FIC: "I Have Your...Cake" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)
@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list? We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?
(Rated M for Bachelorette Party-style shenanigans)
Read on Ao3
05 September 2024
Prompt 27: Opposite
The man who answered the door was the exact opposite of what Marinette had been expecting, going from the pictures.
For one thing, he wasn’t blond. For another, he wasn’t…he was…that is to say…
He had a face, for one. The pictures she had been sent for ‘reference’ were not of her client’s face.
(…but she wasn’t sure you could actually dye…where the pictures were, so again: she had thought the client was blond.)
And from the few phone calls they’d had – because most of the correspondence had been through Rose, because she didn’t normally do this sort of thing but Rose was a dear friend and she was doing her a favor – she hadn’t expected him to be so…well. Cute.
…which was an entirely unfair thought to have, because this man was getting married the next day – she was holding the baked proof that he was very much getting married the next day – and was definitely not someone that Marinette should be considering ‘cute’.
(…panty-dropping, Alya would probably say, because good Lord those eyes and shoulders and…down, girl.)
“Yes?” he asked, and if her brain had still been functioning she might think it weird that his voice sounded deeper, too. Less accented. Less manic.
The voice from the phone had bee grating at best. This voice…oh, she could spend hours listening to that voice. She wondered what her name would sound like wrapped in it. How other things would sound wrapped in it.
…she was perhaps just a little gone, which, going back to the fact that he was completely and utterly unavailable, was a big problem.
“Mademoiselle?” he asked, and she shook her head as she (mostly) came back to her senses. She was making an absolute fool of herself – she had to get it together! She straightened her back and thrust (…goddammit phrasing!) the bakery box out at him.
“I-I-I have your penis!” she actually yelped, and dear God just kill her now. There was a beat that passed between them as her words seemed to sink in, and then his eyebrows were lifting into his hairline and an adorable little flush was coloring his cheeks and Down, Girl! “I-I mean your cake! Your penis cake! The cake of your penis! For your party?”
He blinked again as realization seemed to sink in, and the flush on his cheeks grew darker as a strangled little chuckle left him. She groaned and hung her head.
“…kill me now,” she moaned. She glanced up at him, her head still bent over the box, and bit down on her lip. If she hadn’t been in the middle of dying from mortification, she might have noticed the way his eyes seemed to focus on that. “I am so sorry. That was so unprofessional, M. King. It’s just…I didn’t expect you to be so hot.”
His eyes widened again, and she almost dropped the cake. She jerked up, her back ramrod straight, and squeaked.
“I-I mean cute! Attractive! I mean you’re not – you’re taken! Engaged! Affianced!” and God, now she was rambling. Why wasn’t he stopping her? Why was he grinning like that? She groaned again and pushed the cake out a little more. “…please take this and put me out of my misery.”
“…I think I like your misery,” he chuckled, his voice sounding more than a little strangled, but he still took the cake. He winced as he glanced at the box, distinctly not opening it, and put it on a table behind the door. He turned back to her with an easy smile and folded his arms over his chest as he leaned against the frame. “And for the record. If it makes any difference. I’m not M. King.”
He glanced back at the box as she sucked in a breath, his eyebrows furrowing. His expression turned wry as he looked back at her.
“…that’s not seriously a cake of his junk, is it?” he asked. She nodded, and he grimaced. “I was really hoping he was joking about that. Bri’s gonna hate…shit. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“…sorry?” she squeaked, her eyes widening again. He turned back into the flat, his expression suddenly furious, but she was more than a little distracted by the way his ass looked in those jeans.
“Dingo, you jackass – you didn’t actually order strippers for your party, did you?!” he shouted, and her eyes grew even wider. Ordered what now??? When no answer came, the man’s jaw clenched. “I am not going to jail for you, asshole!”
“…um…” she coughed, and he jumped as he turned back to her – like he had completely forgotten she was there.
“…shit. Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just…Dingo – the groom – is a fucking moron. I didn’t think he’d actually ordered the stupid cake – his fiancée, Bri, told him multiple times she didn’t want it, but he kept joking about…”
There must have been some kind of expression on her face – there had to be, from the heat she could feel filling her cheeks and the way her eyes were stinging – that made him wince and look away. His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck, and his own blush had spread to the tips of his ears.
…he had no right to be that hot and that adorable.
“…sorry,” he said again, wincing. “That’s…that’s not actually your problem. Sorry. They…um. Fuck. They paid you, right? For the cake?”
“Y-yeah,” she said, nodding. She cleared her throat and nodded again, a bit stronger. “Yes. I was just dropping it off on my way home. I…sorry. So you’re not Dingo, then?”
“God, no,” he laughed, shaking his head. He held out his hand, his smile softening. “Luka. Luka Couffaine.”
“Oh! Juleka’s brother, right?” she asked, snapping her fingers. He lifted his eyebrows. “The musician?”
“You know Jules?” he asked. His hand was still held out awkwardly between them. She nodded.
“And Rose,” she said. “We’ve been friends since collège. I’m Marinette.”
“Oh, right! The designer!” the man – Luka – said, nodding. “They talk about you all the time. It’s nice to finally have a face to put with the name. Your parents are bakers, right? Is that how you ended up making…”
He glanced back at the box, and she giggled nervously.
“Rose and Juleka are really good friends, and I never turn down a good friend,” she said, shrugging. “…even if it makes me really uncomfortable. I’m chronically helpful.”
“Your stuff’s incredible,” Luka said. He rolled his eyes and smiled. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m almost looking forward to eating Ding’s junk now.”
She choked on a laugh, clapping her hands over her mouth, and his smile grew. When she had better gathered herself, she looked up at him with an almost giddy smile.
“…hey, are you doing anything tomorrow?” he asked. Her eyebrows lifted, and he grinned. “I’d love to…well. I’d love to buy you a coffee, but I’m kinda supposed to be in this wedding. I may have promised the groom I’d be his best man.”
She giggled at the way he rolled his eyes, and his smile grew. He dipped his head towards her.
“Care to be my plus one?” he asked, grinning. “I’m told the cake’s going to be amazing.”
She choked on another laugh. She knew it would be – her parents were making it.
“Isn’t it bad form to invite someone to a wedding for a first date?” she asked. “Besides. I’m already going to be there – I have to help the bakers set up the cake.”
“Perfect!” he said. Something moved in her periphery, and she noticed he was wiggling his fingers at her. He was still holding his hand up between them. “You have to be there. I have to be there –best man, remember? Why not be there together? I’d say I’d buy you a drink, but it’s going to be an open bar. Maybe I can buy you some cake instead.”
“…the cake’s free, too,” she laughed. His grin grew.
“Perfect,” he said. “You can buy me cake.”
He wiggled his fingers again, and she rolled her eyes as she raised a hand to clasp his. She was momentarily dazed by how…warm his hand felt around hers. Like it was made to hold hers.
“It’s a date,” he said, squeezing her hand. Her smile warmed, and she nodded. Suddenly she didn’t really care if it was bad form, asking someone to a wedding for a first date.
“I can’t wait.”
23 notes
·
View notes