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quickspinner · 4 years ago

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Haste to the Wedding

Here’s my fic for the @lukanette-exchange, for @misslenamooney! I hope you like it! The prompts were “Lukanette, happy Marinette, and if you’re feeling a bit salty, you can salt on Alya and Lila.“ I only have the faintest sprinkling of salt here, more like an echo of the past than anything else, but it was a convenient frame for the story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This will be up on AO3 later today.

Come haste to the wedding ye friends and ye neighbours The lovers their bliss can no longer delay. Forget all your sorrows your cares and your labors, And let every heart beat with rapture today. ~ Haste to the Wedding, traditional Gaelic jig.

“Oh, Marinette, it’s so perfect,” Alya breathed, bouncing slightly and then stilling before Marinette could reprimand her. The gown was lovely, the white lace making beautiful patterns against Alya’s darker skin where Marinette had left it open, and forming a more subtle texture in the areas where the dress was lined for modesty. It skimmed Alya’s body beautifully before flaring in a subtle trumpet shape towards the bottom, with just enough train in the back to form a nice shape on the ground behind her. All in all, Marinette felt very satisfied with it. Sophisticated and strong enough for the tough reporter, with a touch of the whimsy and fantasy that one expected in a wedding dress.

Alya was glowing with happiness, and Marinette smiled absently as she selected another pin from a cushion on her wrist. They’d grown apart a bit, going to different lycées and both traveling extensively for their careers, so they didn’t get to see each other often and sometimes didn’t speak directly for months at a time, but they were still good friends, and when Alya had called and asked Marinette to personally design her wedding dress, there was no question of saying no. Marinette had even hesitantly offered to work with Alya on the wedding planning, since she’d be in Paris much more than Alya over the coming months, but somewhat to her relief, Alya had dismissed her offer, telling her she’d run into another old friend who was starting up a wedding planning business and that she was taking care of everything. Marinette wasn’t sorry to be exempted from the planning (and also from bridesmaid duties, since Alya had decided to have only her sisters attend her).

Now she need only worry about the dress, which Alya of course insisted only Marinette could do. Alya had opted for a crisp white pantsuit look for the civil ceremony at City Hall, saving her wedding dress for the fancifully American-style wedding reception they had planned for the next day.

Despite her faith in her friend, Alya had been a bit nervous, Marinette could tell, about having most of their consultations long-distance, but Marinette was used to it, and she had treated Alya like any of her several high-profile clients that couldn’t always meet with her in person. Marinette’s professionalism and smooth process had seemed to soothe Alya’s worries, and they had managed a couple of in-person meetups for the most critical stages.

The only thing that had given Marinette pause was the idea of not having a final fitting until the day before the wedding, but it really couldn’t be helped. Marinette preferred to have multiple redundant contingency plans and plenty of time to implement them. She’d had several mini-meltdowns at the very idea of a huge last-minute problem, and had actually been in the middle of one when Alya walked in the door, fresh from the civil ceremony and glowing with happiness and excitement. The irrational panic that Alya wouldn’t like the dress had melted away as soon as Alya caught sight of it and let out a deafening squeal, and once the dress was on, it became apparent that Marinette’s assistant had been right in telling her to have more faith in her own skill. The dress was nearly perfect. No emergencies, no last minute creative fixes, no (or at least, no more than usual) stress. Marinette only had to pin the hem to the final length for Alya’s shoes and finish it that night, and it would be ready for tomorrow.

She just had to endure Alya’s teasing until then. “Marinette, come on, spill,” the bride urged. “I know something’s going on with you and Luka since he got back from his tour. I just want to know what it is!”

“So do I,” Marinette muttered, selecting another pin from the cushion on her wrist. “I don’t know, Alya, we’ve been flirting a lot and there’s been...I mean, he’s always been a touchy-feely person, so I don’t know if it means anything—”

“Girl, when it comes to you Luka has always meant something and you know it.”

Marinette blushed, but she couldn’t deny it. Luka had never pressed his admiration on her but he never hid it, either, and Marinette had never been unaffected by it. Busy as they were with their own careers, both made it a point to make time to see each other whenever the two of them were in the same city, and the meetings were always comfortable, enjoyable, brief, and just on the edge of flirtatious, charged with potential they never had time to explore. Since he’d come back from his tour and she’d actually managed to be in town for a few months consecutively, they’d met up a few times now (more than a few) and it was—it was so fun, and Luka was so sweet and smooth and it felt so good to be the center of someone’s attention, and they’d always had so much chemistry together, and she was really starting to think that maybe—

Focus, she thought, sticking some pins in her mouth as an excuse not to speak. Fortunately, Alya’s mind was too focused on the wedding to pester Marinette for long.

“We thought about asking if he could play the wedding, but I know it’s not normally his thing, and my friend said she had some other options, and boy, did she! And how amazing will it be to have Jagged Stone playing the reception? It’ll be huge for Nino, for people to know he has enough connections to get someone that big to play—Marinette? Are you okay?”

Marinette’s head had snapped up to stare wide-eyed at Alya, and she was completely frozen now, a sick feeling forming in her stomach. Slowly she took the pins out of her mouth, sitting back on her heels as she looked up at Alya. “Alya,” Marinette began hesitantly. “Jagged’s in Greece. He has three back to back shows scheduled over the next three nights, and two more shortly after. There’s no way he’s going to be in Paris tomorrow.”

Alya’s mouth dropped open slightly, and then she laughed. “That can’t be right, Marinette! He’s been booked for the wedding for six months!”

“Six months?” Marinette echoed, her brows coming together as that sick feeling got worse. “Alya, Jagged’s schedule is booked out for two years at least.”

“Well yeah, for normal people.” Alya flapped a hand dismissively. “But Lila said—” She paused and bit her lip. “I mean—for you know, people with connections…” but she trailed off as Marinette laid her pins aside and stood up.

“You let Lila book the band for your wedding?” Marinette demanded, and then at Alya’s guilty look, she sucked in a horrified breath. “Lila is your old friend that’s in the wedding planning business?”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Alya sighed, twisting her hands together. “I know you guys never got along and I knew you’d be mad.”

“Mad isn’t the word I would use,” Marinette sighed, pacing the floor and pulling at her hair. “Alya, how much of the wedding did Lila book?”

“Almost all of it,” Alya shrugged. “My mom got us the venue and she’s doing the catering, and I insisted on having you do my dress, but Lila booked everything else.” She smiled dreamily. “It’s going to be beautiful, Marinette, she got so many incredible things and her budget was so reasonable. Her business is really going to take off after everybody sees how well she’s done. I was a little nervous, but I knew she could pull it off.”

Marinette just stared at her for a moment, her lips in a firm line, and then she pulled out her phone. “Just a minute, Alya,” she muttered, and dialed. It went to voicemail, as she expected. “Hey, Penny, this is Marinette. I was um, working on a project that I wanted Jagged to see, and since I hear he’s going to be in Paris tomorrow, I was hoping he could make some time for me. No pressure, just, if he’s available. Please let me know either way.”

She hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket, trying to keep her face neutral. “Alya,” she said quietly, “What did Lila book for you?”

Alya shrugged. “Everything except the dress, which of course had to be you, the food, which of course had to be my mom, and the venue, which we already had reserved through one of my mom’s contacts. Flowers—oh, you should have seen the pictures she sent me they were to die for—favors for the guests, the band obviously, the cake—she tried to get your parents but they were booked solid and we agreed we shouldn’t bother you about it—the makeup and hair and photographer, from all that modeling she’s done you know, and the decorations.”

Marinette took a deep breath and sat down in a chair, covering her mouth with her hands. This was going to be a disaster. Alya’s wedding was going to be a disaster. Oh, the important stuff was still there, at least no one would go hungry and they weren’t going to have hundreds of guests descend on some poor bewildered staff person demanding to be let in to a wedding that didn’t exist. Alya and Nino were already legally married and they could still—

“Lila doesn’t have the rings, right?” Marinette demanded, looking up sharply.

“No, Nino does,” Alya frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “Marinette, what is your problem?”

Marinette got up and swatted Alya’s hands away from the fabric irritably. “Don’t, you’ll soil it. My problem is that Lila has never delivered on a single thing she promised you. Have you actually talked to any of these people yourself?”

“No, but Lila and I have been talking every week and she sent me pictures and samples and she did all the consultations. I didn’t have to worry about a thing!”

Marinette moaned, tossing her head back. “You never confirmed anything she booked?”

Alya rolled her eyes. “She sent me invoices for all of them! I can show you the check stubs if you’re that upset about it.”

“You wrote checks?” Marinette gasped. Charges on a credit card they might have been able to dispute, but—okay, no, this was too much. She’d worry about that part later. “Did you sign a contract with her?”

Alya scoffed. “Of course not, we’re friends.”

Marinette pressed her lips together and folded her arms and reminded herself that Nino would be upset if she strangled his bride the night before the wedding. “We’re friends,” she pointed out tightly, gesturing between herself and Alya. “I still made you sign a contract.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve always been anal like that.”

“Anal like—” Marinette stopped, turning her back for a second to breathe, and before she could formulate a response her phone beeped with an incoming video message.

She set it to play on speaker. “Hi, Marinette,” Penny Rolling said, looking pristine as always despite the chaos behind her. “Always great to hear from you! Unfortunately it seems like there’s been some kind of misunderstanding? Jagged’s not scheduled to be in Paris again for two more months. I know he’d want to see what you’re working on, so text me later and we can work out a video call instead. So sorry for the mixup. Talk to you soon.”

Marinette looked up at Alya, who was doing a credible impression of a fish.

“That’s just—okay, so there was a misunderstanding, you’ve told me how Jagged is, I’m sure—maybe he forgot to tell Penny and she didn’t put it on his calendar, but it’s just one thing, there’s no need to—”

“Alya.” Marinette met her friend’s gaze steadily and Alya cut off, seeming to shrink a little. “This is your wedding. Do you really want to take the chance?”

Alya just stared at her.

“Call the florist first,” Marinette said calmly. Too calmly, she knew, but she also knew that Alya was finally listening, because the color drained from her face and she began fumbling for her phone.

Not bothering to wait for the outcome, Marinette pulled out her sketchbook and flipped to a fresh page, making a list down the page as she frantically thought about her options. In a few moments she had a plan sketched out and was dialing her own phone.

“Adrien,” Marinette bit out as soon as he picked up. “Did you know that Nino and Alya’s wedding planner was Lila?”

There was a good thirty seconds of silence on the other end of the line before Adrien breathed, “Oh no. No, I didn’t know, it never even occurred to me to…what are we going to do, Marinette?”

“We’re going to fix this disaster so our friends can have the wedding they deserve,” Marinette said as if it was simple. “You’re on photography and flowers. I know you hate trading on your name and your contacts but so help me, you better use every ounce of fame you have to get this done—”

“I’ll do it,” Adrien said quickly. “I’ll do it. And count on me to cover the cost of whatever else you need to get. Whatever premium you have to promise.”

“I’ll hold you do that,” Marinette told him, and then glanced over her shoulder. An increasingly panicked-looking Alya wasn’t even paying attention to her. “And call Nino and tell him he better get back here now. Thanks, chaton.”

“You can always count on me, my lady. So can Alya and Nino.”

“All right, I’ll call if I need anything else.” She hung up the phone and dialed again.

“Hi, boss,” a chipper voice greeted her.

“Sabrina,” Marinette sighed, unable to match her assistant’s cheerful tone. “Listen, there’s been a problem with Alya’s wedding and I need you to ransack the warehouse for decorations. Anything that we might use for a wedding photoshoot. And start calling any stylist and makeup artist who’s ever done well for us and get them on board to do wedding hair and makeup tomorrow. I know it’s short notice but we need somebody on board in a hurry. Money is no object. Adrien’s footing the bill so if you need a credit card or something, call him. He’ll be expecting you.”

“Colors?” Sabrina asked, and Marinette smiled at the brusque tone and lack of questioning. She’d been nervous when Sabrina had called her looking for a job, having been fired (again) by Chloe, but taking her on was going on Marinette’s list of best management decisions ever. Sabrina was a huge asset to Marinette’s successful and growing business, and the only assistant Marinette had ever hired that was detail-oriented and organized enough to keep up with her.

“Orange, mint, and forest green,” she replied, making a note on her list to text that to Adrien as well for the florist. “Just have the guys pile it all in the van and we’ll sort through it when we get there. Grab whatever you can find in the scrap fabrics, too. I’m not sure it’ll be much but we’ll work with whatever we can have.” She paused. “Sabrina, this is a personal favor, not a job, but I—”

“Got it, boss,” Sabrina chirped. “Text me the address and what time the venue opens, and I’ll meet you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Sabrina,” Marinette smiled, making a mark on her list.

Next, she called her mother, made Sabine put her on speaker so that Tom could hear, and begged shamelessly, using every “Papa’s little girl” trick she could think of to get them on board. Naturally, Tom couldn’t refuse. Marinette felt guilty for putting that much work on them but she’d find a way to make it up to them later.

Looking at the next item on her list, she hesitated. She set her phone down and pressed her hands to her face, and then looked back down at the list, feeling her face heat. She knew what she needed to do—she knew who she needed to call, but…

She glanced up at Alya, who was sitting motionless in her chair, the phone in her lap, staring into space with a blank expression that was...bad. On Alya, it was really bad.

Marinette took a deep breath and dialed the phone. She put a hand over her racing heart and pressed as if that would stop the fluttering.

“Hey, beautiful,” a warm, deep voice said, and Marinette smiled in spite of herself. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you today. Figured you’d be busy.”

“H-hey, Luka,” she said, and swallowed, hating the stutter. “I—well, I am busy, but I—that is, I mean—argh.” She groaned, and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. God, she hated to do this. “I need a favor,” she said through gritted teeth, and then sighed. “A big one. Huge. A really big, I-have-no-right-to-ask-you-this-sized favor.”

“I’m listening,” Luka said, unruffled as always, a touch of amusement in his voice.

“So, the wedding,” Marinette took a breath and blew it out. “Well, long story short, the band fell through. A lot of things fell through, actually, and we’re really scrambling to fix everything and I know this is super, super short notice and I won’t blame you one bit if you tell me to jump ship, but—but this is really important to me, Luka, and I...I…”

“You want me to find you a band in less than twenty-four hours?” Luka asked incredulously.

“W-well,” Marinette cringed, fisting the fabric of her skirt in her hand. “I was sort of hoping you’d be the band? Not that I don’t trust you, I’m sure anybody you could get would be great, but you’re amazing, and I really need amazing for this. This—I can’t explain everything but this is not going to be the wedding Nino and Alya had counted on and I really, really need it to be the best we can possibly give them, and you’re definitely the best, so—please, Luka, I’m begging, I’ll do anything, Adrien’s covering all the expenses and we’ll come up with a number to make it worth it for you and anyone you can bring with you, and I’m sure there’s going to be industry contacts there because of Nino, and I just—”

“Marinette,” Luka said firmly, and she shut her mouth abruptly.

“Yes?” she ventured, when Luka didn’t say anything more.

“What time do you need me to be there?” he asked, and she could hear his smile. “I’m not sure if I can get the rest of the guys, or even subs, it might just be me—”

“You’re more than enough,” Marinette assured him, and then blushed. “I mean. Well. You are. Anyway, I, um...I’ll text you the details and you let me know how it turns out with the others.”

“Yeah, sure. Be sure and send me anything they wanted as far as the set list. First dance and all that.” He chuckled. “I haven’t played many weddings but I remember that much at least.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, glancing aside as the door opened and Nino came through, expression worried. “I’ll probably have Nino get in touch with you directly about that stuff. I’m so sorry to ask this of you, Luka, I...I feel like I’m taking advantage…”

“Marinette,” Luka’s voice was velvety, rich and alluring, and despite the situation it sent a shiver down her spine. “You can take advantage of me any time you want.”

Mairnette scrunched her shoulders as a fierce blush spread over her face. “Luka,” she whined, and he laughed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her, still in that voice. “Save a dance for me.”

The call cut off and Marinette dropped the phone in her lap, dropped her head in her hands, and squealed softly.

Okay. Plenty of time later to think about her complicated relationship with the guitarist and how much she’d been wondering lately if kissing him stupid would uncomplicate it or make it worse. For now, Alya was coming out of her catatonic state, Marinette’s phone was already blowing up with texts from Adrien and Sabrina and her mother, and she had a disaster to mitigate.

At least that was something she was good at. She picked up her notebook and marched over to Alya and Nino.

***

It could have been worse, Marinette reflected with satisfaction as she looked around the party hall. Sabrina was a miracle worker, and that was a fact. Resourceful and much more ruthless than her (current) employer, she knew how to use her contacts and how to trade on Adrien’s name and wealth to get things done. Marinette only hoped they hadn’t screwed anyone over too badly.

“You know it’s bad form to outshine the bride at her wedding,” said a deep voice in her ear, and Marinette jumped and whirled to smack Luka in the shoulder as he laughed. She pouted and shook her finger in his face. “No flirting until after your set.”

“All right,” he chuckled, catching her hand and bringing it down gently as he smiled at her. “You’re the boss today.” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand in a way that made his words a lie. “Where should we set up?”

“We?” Marinette blinked, her mouth dropping open slightly as she finally tore her eyes from Luka to look over his shoulder, where three other people stood with instrument cases and bored expressions.

“I called in some favors,” he grinned. “I’ll probably be playing dive bars and who knows what else for weeks to pay this back, but...anything for you, Marinette.”

She should have scolded him for flirting again, but she couldn’t because she knew that he meant it. He was only laying it on so thick now because she’d been flirting back and encouraging him over the last few weeks, and when he looked at her like that, well...she had a hard time being sorry.

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly and she realized he was still waiting for an answer to his question. He was still rubbing her hand with his thumb, though, too, and Marinette whipped her hand away and turned on her heel, calling “Follow me.”

“Anywhere,” he said softly behind her, and she bit her lip, trying not to giggle like a teenager.

Once she had led him to the stage and the sound system, he sobered a bit, clearly settling into professional mode as he gave his bandmates instructions for setting up. Marinette hovered while he checked the stage lights and asked for some adjustments. The venue staff accommodated him with admirable speed. Marinette was called away for a bit to consult with the frazzled, tired-but-triumphant florist and figure out how best to distribute what they had managed to acquire. She was surprised at how much there was. A lot of it was white but it was tastefully mixed with the orange and pale green blossoms. It would do, distributed correctly.

When she returned, the band was set up and tuning up for their sound check. Marinette checked the time nervously.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be ready,” Luka’s normally soft voice boomed through the sound system, and she jumped slightly. She looked up to find him at the microphone, guitar slung across his shoulders, and as he tossed back his hair and smiled at her, she was reminded of the boy from the boat, Juleka’s brother, the boy who gave her rides on his bike and smiled at her with soft eyes and played songs that resonated in her heart.

Almost as if he could hear her, his hands went to the strings, but it wasn’t her heart that he played this time. She recognized the intro to Alya and Nino’s first dance song, though it sounded more vibrant with Luka’s distinctive rock edge. It would be perfect for them, she noted absently. Luka’s eyes found her again and he smirked. Marinette was barely aware of the drums picking up the rhythm and the bass coming in a bit late as Luka took a breath and sang, low and smooth, his eyes on her.

“What would I do without your smart mouth, drawing me in and you kicking me out, you’ve got my head spinning, no kidding, I can’t pin you down. What’s going on in that beautiful mind? I’m on your magical mystery ride, and I’m so dizzy, don’t know what hit me, but I’ll be all right.”

He dropped his eyes, and Marinette thought he might be blushing as he launched into the chorus. She put a hand over her heart and sighed at the way it beat against her hand as she closed her eyes to listen to him singing All of me loves all of you…

It gave her goosebumps. Luka wasn’t Jagged Stone, and he didn’t try to be. His voice was so rich and full it seemed to fill the space and make everything sound closer and more intimate.

He cut off abruptly and stepped back, motioning his bandmates to cut off. “Okay, can we bring the bass up just a little bit?” The guy working the sound waved an acknowledgement, and they played the lead-in again. This time Luka nodded in satisfaction, and then turned back to ask his bandmates something Marinette couldn’t hear.

They ran through parts of a few other of the more important songs, and Marinette was more and more impressed at the way Luka managed to fit the songs to his own style, without changing the substance.

When he was satisfied with the way everything sounded, they all put the instruments in their stands and came down off the stage.

Luka opened his mouth to say something but Marinette raised up on her toes, took his face in her hands and kissed him briefly on the mouth. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she told him. “You’re really my hero today.”

He licked his lips, and made a visible effort to drag his gaze from her mouth to her eyes, but they flicked right back again when Marinette bit her lip again to keep in another fit of giggles that wanted to burst from her. He always had that effect on her. She patted his cheek. “I have to go check on Alya, but I’ll catch up with you in a bit, okay?”

“Sure,” he managed finally, and cleared his throat as she turned away. She got a few steps away before he called her name and she turned back.

“You really do look beautiful,” he said simply, and Marinette blushed, hands going automatically to smooth her simple pink and mint cocktail dress.

“Thanks, Luka,” she said, watching his eyes follow the slight shrug of her bare shoulders. “You look really good too. I like your usual look, but you clean up nicely too.” She winked at him. “Don’t forget you promised me a dance after your set.”

Luka’s mouth dropped open slightly and he looked a bit as if he’d been hit in the back of the head with a board. Marinette tossed her hair and blew him a kiss, and if she put a little extra sway in her hips as she walked away, it was just for the sake of making her skirt swish that little bit more.

Behind her, Luka put a hand to his heart and pretended to faint into his bandmate’s arms. “She’s gonna kill me,” he muttered with a happy sigh.

“So long as I get paid first, mate,” his drummer grunted, heaving him off.

***

Alya cried when she saw the hall, despite all the ladies in the group converging on her and begging her not to make her eyes puffy on her big day. In all honesty her eyes were already puffy from the hopeless weeping that had followed her denial and disbelief, but the makeup artist Sabrina found did a masterful job hiding it, and the glow of Alya’s happiness and relief did anything else that was wanted.

It maybe wasn’t the decorations Alya had picked out, or the hairstyle Alya had decided on, or exactly the shade of eyeshadow she had planned on, but it all came together just fine. No one would ever know the disaster the wedding had almost been. Marinette spared a moment to viciously wish that Lila might see the social media pictures of just how lovely it had all turned out in spite of her, before putting the horrible woman out of her mind entirely.

“You’re a miracle worker as always,” Adrien sighed as they paused for a congratulatory fist bump.

“Sabrina gets most of the credit,” Marinette observed. “She did a lot of the legwork, and we for sure wouldn’t have been able to do as much without you backing us. It sure would be nice if I could find the money to put a bonus in her next paycheck.”

Adrien nodded. “How about you overcharge me for a custom suit for the charity ball I have to attend next month?”

“That should do it,” Marinette agreed. “Have your assistant call Sabrina, we’ll set something up.”

“Still,” Adrien said, nudging Marinette with a cat-like grin spreading across his face. “Somehow I doubt Sabrina had much to do with the music for tonight.”

“No, that was Nino,” Marinette replied airily. “He called in a favor with a DJ friend of his that was on the guest list anyway.”

“Uh-huh. And the live music?” Adrien nudged her a little harder and Marinette shoved him off so hard he nearly fell.

“I’m going to check on the cake,” she announced, though she knew her parents had delivered it to Mme Césare’s staff earlier and that they surely knew what they were doing.

The ring ceremony went off without a hitch, with Alya’s sisters at her side and Adrien and Noel at Nino’s, without any hint of the drama that had been going on behind the scenes since yesterday.

And the dress, Marinette noted with satisfaction, looked perfect.

Then Alya and Nino took the dance floor, and Luka took over the mic, and then he was singing again, in that voice that gave her goosebumps. It had been quite a while since she had seen him perform live, and she hadn’t exactly forgotten the way he could command a room, but it still gave her the shivers. She drifted closer and closer to the stage as she moved through the crowd, and then suddenly she was looking up at Luka, and he was looking down at her, and Marinette might have felt self-conscious except that everyone else was locked on Alya and Nino. No one had any attention to notice the way they were looking at each other as Luka sang, “You’re my downfall, you’re my muse, my worst distraction, my rhythm and blues. I can’t stop singing, it’s ringing in my head for you.”

Really, to Marinette, it felt like all those other people weren’t even there.

***

She was looking for him, once the band had wrapped up and the DJ had taken over, and he still managed to come up from behind and surprise her.

“Is now a good time for that dance?”

“Luka, stop sneaking up on me,” Marinette scolded, turning to find him grinning down at her once again.

“I’m not even sorry,” he told her, chuckling as he held out his hand. “May I?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was grinning as she put her hand in his and let him guide her onto the dance floor, where his broad, warm hands settled on her waist as her own delicate hands joined behind his neck.

“You did an awesome job up there,” Marinette told him as they swayed. “Really. Jagged Stone himself couldn’t have done better.”

Luka snorted. “As if Jagged could ever contain himself enough to play a wedding. He’d be upstaging the bride every chance that he got.”

“That...is probably true,” Marinette admitted. She loved the rock star, but she was by no means blind to his faults, which included being extremely self-absorbed and a natural attention magnet. It really was better that he hadn’t been here.

She sighed. “I still can’t believe Alya thought Lila could actually deliver on all those promises. I thought after everything—but she did eventually manage to lie her way into some real connections, so I guess maybe she had just enough authenticity to sound credible this time.”

“Don’t think about her,” Luka said softly, whisking her into a turn. “I don’t like the faces you make when you do,” he teased, lifting one hand to stroke the deep crease between her brows. “You pulled it off, Marinette. Look at Alya and Nino. They couldn’t be any happier, so just dance with me and forget about all that mess. What’s on the big calendar for this week, hm? Or should I even ask?”

“Actually, I was wondering if maybe I could take you to dinner,” Marinette said as lightly as she could manage. “As a thank you.”

Luka looked away for a second. “I think you already know I’d love to go out with you, Marinette,” Luka said, his voice serious even though he was still smiling when he looked back at her. “But I’d rather it not be out of pity, or even gratitude. I want you on your own terms.”

Of course he did. That was just...so Luka. Marinette took a deep breath and shifted a little closer to him, letting her fingers drift up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeated, the eyes that had gone half-lidded at her touch snapping open.

“Okay,” Marinette confirmed. “Here’s my terms. I work a lot. My business is very deadline driven and I’m very hands-on with a lot of people as part of the fitting process. It’s entirely professional, entirely necessary, and you have to be okay with it.”

“I can handle that,” Luka agreed, looking as cool as ever, but they were now moving ever so slightly off-beat with the music, so she knew he was rattled.

“I can’t always be home to cook dinner. I might not even be home to eat dinner. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am and in a couple more years I might be able to bring on more staff, but that’s not a guarantee.”

“I’d never ask you to stop pursuing your passion, Marinette,” Luka told her, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “But if you’re not taking care of yourself, if you’re not eating and sleeping enough to at least function, I’m gonna ask you to slow down.”

“Fair,” Marinette acknowledged. “I travel a lot. I’ll be in other cities a lot, on my own, with a lot of clients and models. The tabloids like to stir up trouble and it’s only a matter of time before they have me shacking up with somebody. I expect you to talk to me before you jump to any conclusions.”

“Of course,” he said so simply that she believed him.

Marinette took a deep breath. “Sometimes I have to be places that I can’t explain,” she said softly, no longer looking him in the eye. “I don’t want to have to lie and come up with excuses, so...I need you to just trust me. And if it gets to be too much...I need you to tell me that too, so we can stay friends when we split up.”

“Okay,” Luka said, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Is that all?”

Marinette shrugged and tried to smile. “Mostly, yeah.”

“All right then,” Luka grinned, twirling her around. “I accept your terms. Are you ready to hear mine?”

“O-okay,” Marinette stammered.

“We’re in the same boat on the travel. I work a lot of odd jobs and weird hours,” Luka began. “My schedule’s never the same from week to week. I work a lot of late nights and I hate mornings.”

“Me too,” Marinette giggled. “I think I can live with that. What else?”

“I get hit on kind of a lot,” he said, looking away slightly as a faint hint of red colored his cheeks. “When I play a gig. And this tour was—it was crazy, even though we were just the opening act. Some people get a little handsy. I don’t like it, I don’t ask for it, and it’s got nothing to do with things between us—no matter what it looks like when you walk up. So, same courtesy? Talk to me before you freak out?”

“I don’t freak out as easily as I used to,” Marinette mumbled, blushing herself. “But yeah, I got it. Okay. I don’t really like that people are touching you when you don’t want them to, though. I can’t promise I won’t bend a thumb or two if they’re where they don’t belong.”

“Hmm, we’ll negotiate on that,” Luka chuckled, pinching her waist lightly. “I don’t personally mind but I don’t want my girlfriend getting kicked out of every club in Paris.” He gave her a soft look. “And you would be my girlfriend. I’m not interested in dating around if being with you is an option.”

Marinette blushed harder, but put her nose in the air and pretended to consider. “Hm. That sounds reasonable. Besides, I don’t mind making time for you, but otherwise I’m way too busy to date.” She held her “Chloe face” for another moment and then broke down in giggles, and Luka laughed too, and they collapsed against each other for a moment, Luka’s forehead coming down to rest on hers as they snickered. Marinette closed her eyes, breathing in the peace and contentment she always felt with him, and wondered why they hadn’t had this talk sooner. It felt so...right.

Reluctantly, Marinette pushed him back after a moment, pulling him back into the dance.

“I don’t want to steal Alya’s spotlight,” she murmured, glancing at her glowing friend, floating around the room on her new husband’s arm. “She’s already going to be mad enough we stole her song.”

“Did we?” Luka chuckled, and Marinette grinned.

“I think we did. It sure felt like it to me.”

“Yeah, it did,” Luka sighed. “I should probably be sorry about that. Hopefully everyone else was focused on the bride and groom. But seriously, I think you’ve already kind of stolen the show here. You say you didn’t do much but I was talking to Adrien a bit before.” He shook his head. “You’re amazing. Anyone else would have just patted her back and left her to figure it out on her own.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Marinette sighed. “I just happened to have the resources to make it happen.”

“Because you’re amazing,” Luka chuckled.

Marinette’s lips twitched as she tried not to smile too broadly, pretending to dust something off his shoulder as an excuse not to look at him for a moment. “Maybe. It did turn out pretty nicely, after all. I guess I deserve some credit for that.” She glanced up at his face, half-afraid he’d be put off by her lack of modesty, but he just squeezed her waist lightly and nodded.

“Absolutely. The business you’ve built at your age, it’s incredible. You’re so dedicated and driven and passionate, it blows my mind. Makes me feel like I’m really slacking. If I had your dedication I’d be on my third album by now.”

“You would be,” Marinette chided, squeezing his arm. “If you’d accepted Jagged’s help.”

Luka sighed and looked away. “That’s complicated, Marinette.”

“I know,” Marinette said, giving him a sympathetic look. “And you’re doing great on your own. Are the final numbers in from the tour yet? I know you were waiting to hear.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Luka’s mouth. “Yeah. They’re, um...they’re pretty good. Really good, actually. Nothing’s certain yet, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to pick up our option for the next album.”

“Really?” Marinette screeched in a whisper, bouncing on her toes. “Luka, that’s amazing!” She popped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Her eyes went round when she realized what she’d just done, but Luka’s went heavy-lidded and dark.

Suddenly he made a sharp turn and pulled her into an alcove they’d been about to pass, shielded from the rest of the party by a draping of fabric that some professional corner of Marinette’s brain recognized as leftovers from her spring collection. Then Luka’s hand was cradling the back of her neck and his lips were pressed firmly, though gently, to hers, and she was pulling him down into her, pressing up on her toes to deepen the kiss while Luka’s other hand found the small of her back and pulled her closer.

“Marinette,” Adrien’s amused voice was low, and when Marinette gasped and looked behind her, she saw Adrien was standing casually (or what passed for casually when one was an internationally famous model) with his back to the entrance of their little alcove. “They’re about to round up all the single ladies, and Alya’s going to come looking for you.”

“Right,” Marinette gasped, reaching up to touch her face. “Do I—”

“You’re fine. Me?” Luka smiled at her with so much happiness that Marinette almost didn’t register his question.

When she did, she reached up and wiped away a smear beneath his lower lip with her thumb. “I think that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Luka sighed. “We’ll have to do better next time.” He laughed when Marinette gasped and smacked him in the chest before flouncing out of the alcove to punch a snickering Adrien in the arm.

“So violent,” Adrien moaned, rubbing his arm. “Do you know how much money that arm is worth?”

“You’re insured,” Marinette huffed, eyes narrowed as she got in his face and flexed her own arm. “And we both know I can take you so don’t be giving me shit, Agreste.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and turned to Luka. “Are you seriously signing up for this, Couffaine?”

“Hell yeah,” Luka sighed, clapping a friendly hand on Adrien’s shoulder and shoving him away from Marinette. “That was hot,” Luka grinned, putting his arm around Marinette’s shoulders as Adrien jokingly pretended to stagger into a drink cart.

Marinette giggled. “I think growing up with your mom warped your personality.”

“Almost definitely,” Luka chuckled, his arm slipping down to squeeze her waist, but before he could say anything else, the DJ was calling all the single women to the floor.

Marinette tried to hang back but Adrien was blocking her exit, so any attempt she might have made to hide was thwarted, and then Alya grabbed the microphone and yelled into it, “Get your ass up here, Marinette, front and center!”

“Favoritism!” someone yelled, and Alya just laughed.

Marinette reluctantly wandered over and let herself be pushed to the front. She tried not to feel self-conscious as she stood with the other single ladies, all of whom were quite a bit taller than she was. Stupid Alya and her tall genes and her tallish friends. She exchanged a look with Nora, who looked bored and was clearly only participating because her mother had ordered her to be for the sake of having all the sisters in the pictures.

It was a stupid, meaningless tradition anyway. She’d much rather still be basking in Luka’s calm yet electrifying presence. Marinette pasted on a smile and prepared herself to make the minimum effort necessary to look good in the pictures

“Ready?” Alya called, turning her back to the group. “One...two…”

Suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around her waist and a familiar voice softly murmured, “Jump” in her ear. She obeyed without thought just as Alya yelled, “THREE!” and flung the bouquet back over her head. For a moment Marinette felt weightless as she was lifted up high—very high—high enough to snatch the bundle of flowers out of the air. She looked over her shoulder and found Luka grinning up at her as he lowered her to the floor.

“That was cheating,” Ella pouted, and Marinette very maturely stuck out her tongue at the younger girl. She giggled and leaned back into Luka’s chest, his chuckle rumbling against her back before they made their way back off the dance floor as guests began to trickle back onto it.

Marinette grinned down at the fragrant bundle in her hands, feeling a little flutter as Luka, still behind her, leaned his face down beside hers.

“So I know we only just became official and everything, but I’m just saying, you know, whenever you’re ready—”

“Luka!” Marinette laughed, turning in his arms to look up at him. He grinned and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he teased. “I’m not saying I won’t wait for you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but I wouldn’t be sad if I didn’t have to anymore.”

“Mm-hmm,” Marinette grinned wickedly, and then pulled her phone out of the hidden pocket of her dress. “Hold that thought.” She dialed and brought the phone to her ear. “Hi, Sabrina, sorry to bother you but hopefully this will be quick. I know this is short notice, but you know that flight for Vegas I have booked for Monday morning?” Marinette continued, watching Luka’s eyes go wide and his mouth drop open. Oh, that was fun, taking him off guard for once. “I need another ticket. Mm-hmm. Great! Let me know when it’s booked.” She hung up and slipped her phone back in the pocket. “You should know by now that I don’t hesitate anymore,” she teased, looking up into his shocked expression with a grin. “So if you were bluffing you better speak up now, Luka Couffaine.”

“You know I wasn’t,” he breathed, voice low and serious. “So don’t mess with me here, Marinette.”

Marinette shrugged slightly, blushing as she picked at imaginary lint on his sleeve. “You’ve always been more honest with your feelings with most people, so...yeah. I didn’t think you were.” It was an effort to meet his eyes, but she managed it, though it brought the heat to her face again. “Neither am I.”

A single beat.

“Well all right then,” Luka grinned, taking her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “But we probably should stop by City Hall on our way to the airport just to make sure.”

“You know I like to be thorough,” Marinette agreed, and then squeezed his hand hard. “But if you let a word of this slip before then I’ll kill you. I’m not upstaging Alya’s wedding after all the work I put into saving it.”

“That would be a shame,” Luka agreed. “Also a crappy thing to do to a friend, so.” He tugged her hand lightly. “You know the sooner we get out of here the less we can give away.”

“I like the way you think,” Marinette giggled. “Let’s see if I can keep it together enough to say goodbye.”

Fiction Master Post

I hope you enjoyed it! Here’s the cover I had in mind when Luka played the wedding song.

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#quickspins #lukanette-exchange #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fics #prompt fic #lukanette exchange 2020

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 8 years ago

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The Fake Boyfriend (Part 5)

Summary: Reader bumps into a stranger and her life gets flipped upside down…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language

A/N: I loved this series and hope you guys did too!…

You thought nothing of it when you burrowed your head into the warm chest in front of you. The arm over your waist that gave a tiny tug was heavy and nice. He smelled earthy and a bit like honey. That was when you opened your eyes, green ones opening up at the same time.

For a moment you simply stared. This was cuddling. Not my arm is accidentally touching yours. This was ‘we were holding each other in our fucking sleep’ cuddling.

Dean jerked away the same moment you did, spreading back over to your designated sides of the bed. You shared a look to not talk about that and shook it off instead.

“I’ll uh, change first. You need more time for your hair and stuff,” said Dean, grabbing his suit for the wedding and popping into the bathroom.

You sighed as you wandered over to the coffee machine in your room and made a cup. You knew you should be pulling out your dress, getting to work on your makeup but honestly, curling up on the window bench with knees tucked in your chest was much more appealing.

“Y/N?” you heard Dean say, suddenly right by your side. You glanced away from watching them set up outdoors and turned to see Dean looking very handsome in his suit. “Your coffee is cold.”

“I’ll make another,” you said, grabbing your things and getting behind the closed door as fast as possible. You didn’t have much of a reason to dress up often and normally enjoyed it. Twenty minutes later your hair was curled and pulled up in the way you’d been told to wear it with your makeup finished and face pretty but not overdone. You should have felt good.

But there was that guy out in your room, Dean Winchester, who just had to go and fucking kiss you last night. You just had to fucking kiss him back.

“Tomorrow we fly home and I’ll never see him again,” you said to yourself. You weren’t sure to be excited or terrified of that reality. But today was not your day. It was Angie’s and you were going to do good on your promise to not be in a bad mood.

“Y/N, can you help me with my tie?” asked Dean when he heard you open the door.

“Sure,” you said, walking over and spinning around. “Zip me up first?”

“Sure,” he said, rough skin touching the bare soft flesh of your back as he found the zipper. He pulled it up slowly and you wondered if he would rather be pulling it back down.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping into a pair of heels that got you closer to eye level with Dean.

“You look pretty,” he said quietly, not paying attention to your fingers working the tie into place.

“So do you, De,” you said, putting a hand on his chest when you finished. “Sorry you didn’t get as much vacation out of this as you’d hoped for.”

“I’ve enjoyed myself,” said Dean when your back was turned to him. “Parts of it.”

“We should get going,” you said, glancing at the clock, your delay this morning cutting it close to doing pictures.

“After you runt.”

The wedding went well and Dean seemed to have made peace with your more dickish relatives. You didn’t have a chance to see him until after dinner and the dancing had started but he had a glass of wine waiting for you when you finally found an empty seat by him.

“Have you finally been released from your bridesmaid duties, pretty girl?” asked Dean, his jacket on the back of his chair as he sipped on a beer.

“Yes,” you said, trading your wine for his beer. “How many times were you asked if you were going to propose today?”

“Only eight,” he joked. “Most of those by your mom. You were right, your parents are pretty good about everything but then again, they must have been. They raised you after all.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, Dean taking the beer and sipping from it before handing it back. He threw an arm over your shoulder and chuckled.

“You’re you. The little weirdo ball of fire runt. If they’d raised you like your cousins, you’d probably be marrying a Sebastian or Stefan the third or some shit,” said Dean, lips curled up.

“I like a man who’s not afraid to work with his hands,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder with a smile, seeing the photographer zero in on you and Dean. “Try to look cute.”

“Won’t be hard for you,” said Dean, moving his head and planting a kiss to your cheek that surprised you, the camera flashing as you smiled wide.

“You two have been adorable all week,” said the photographer when you and Dean had finished throwing out a few silly poses. “When you guys need a wedding photographer, give me ring,” he said, handing over one of his cards to Dean.

“Sure thing,” said Dean, sliding the card in his wallet to be polite. When the guy found someone else to interest him, Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you up.

“Where are we going?” you asked, Dean pulling you over to the dance floor. “I don’t dance.”

“Neither do I. Now let’s get out there and show you off,” said Dean, tugging a little harder when he felt you resist.

“De,” you said, feeling your cheeks flush.

“One dance for me,” he said. “Please…”

“Fine,” you said, letting him pull you onto the floor. The song was fast paced and after about ten seconds, you forgot about the other people around and focused on Dean. Maybe people were looking at you, maybe they weren’t, but you were actually having fun dancing for possibly the first time in your life.

Then of course it had to cut to a slow song. The second you and Dean tried to book it out of there your mom appeared and you both relented. You threw your arms around Dean’s neck, his around your waist as you swayed slowly.

“Sorry about this,” you said. “You know my mother.”

“I’ve already been told the various ways I will be killed if I ever break your heart. Good woman,” said Dean with a chuckle.

“I’ll just tell them we drifted apart, mutual decision to end it,” you said quietly, resting your head on his chest.

“When are you going to tell them?” asked Dean, putting his chin on your head. You closed your eyes, letting out a hum.

“My Uncle is having a birthday party here for a weekend in about a month. I’ll tell them then,” you said. “If they don’t like it, fuck ‘em.”

“That’s my girl,” said Dean. “I told you that you’d be okay.”

“I know this has been a messed up situation but you’ve helped me in some strange twist of fate,” you said.

“So I’m not an asshole?” teased Dean.

“That’s unfortunately a chronic issue you for you,” you joked, feeling the rumble of Dean’s chest under you. You heard him laugh perfectly clear and that struck you as odd. You and Dean continued to move for a few more moments before you felt Dean stop.

“Y/N, the music’s gone,” he said, your eyes flashing open. You lifted your head to find yourselves alone on the floor, about thirty something pairs of eyes on the two of you. “Let’s just…” he said, taking your hand in his as you felt your cheeks start to burn.

“Don’t let us interrupt you,” said someone from the crowd as you and Dean quickly made your way away from the center of attention.

“I really thought he was gonna do it just then,” said someone else. A few moments later the music came back and you and Dean were an after thought.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said, grabbing two beers as Dean pulled his jacket from his chair. Outside of the tent, you felt the chill on your arms in the night air. Dean took the beers and sat them down before throwing his coat over your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through. You were drowning in it but it was so warm you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Sorry I made you dance,” he said, handing you a beer as you took off down one of the paths.

“It was fun,” you said, knocking into his shoulder. “I really can’t thank you enough for coming on this trip.”

“A week ago I was a psycho for mentioning it,” said Dean. “Didn’t know I had that effect on you runt.”

“Shut up, De,” you said, stopping to kick off your heels. “Ah, so much better,” you said, grabbing them and walking barefoot.

“Why do girls wear those? They hurt like a bitch don’t they?” asked Dean. You shrugged.

“They’re pretty. They show off your legs, make your ass look better. Obviously make you taller so your date doesn’t have to crane their neck so much to kiss you,” you said, listening to Dean’s chuckling.

“If I want to kiss someone, a pair of heels is not getting in the way of that,” said Dean. “I will never understand women. Same thing with all that makeup you put on.”

“What’s wrong with my makeup?” you said, whacking him with one of your shoes.

“Nothing! It’s just…” he trailed off.

“Just…” you said, slowing your pace.

“You already have long thick eyelashes. You already have soft cheeks. You put stuff on to make your face look like you’ve got high cheekbones. I just don’t get it. I like your normal face much better,” said Dean. You scoffed and saw him pout.

“You like my tired-ass looking face?” you said with raised eyebrows.

“I like that scar you have right there,” said Dean, running a thumb under your bottom lip. “I like the soft curve of your cheek. If I wanted some barbie doll I’d be with a barbie doll.”

“Well, we live in Kansas so not much in the way of barbie doll types there,” you said, moving to kick at the ground like when you were nervous but catching yourself as you weren’t wearing any protection.

“We’ve got plenty of the working man type for you at least,” said Dean.

“They all think I’m a stuck up rich bitch,” you said. “You did at first.”

“They didn’t get a chance to know you,” said Dean.

“As much fun as having a fake boyfriend has been, I don’t see me getting a real one anytime soon,” you said. “You’ve got a couple nice suits now for a date if you find your not barbie girl.”

“I don’t think the girl for me will mind if I show up to the first date in jeans and plaid,” said Dean.

“No she wouldn’t,” you said, coming to the fork that would lead back up to the hotel. “We’ve got an early flight.”

“Yeah,” said Dean a little quietly.

“I figured maybe if you try listening to music when we take off, it won’t be so scary for you,” you said.

“Just hold my hand and I’ll be okay. I promise not to crush it this time,” said Dean shyly.

“I kind of like that,” you said, the two of you turning back up towards the front entrance. “I’m in on your secret.”

“That I’m scared of flying?” he asked.

“That for some reason I help you get through it,” you said. Dean rubbed the back of his head. “Want to see if they’ve got any pie again?”

“Now you’re talking,” he said, glad for the change in subject. You grabbed a slice of lime for dean and chocolate for yourself, eating at the hotel bar still wearing Dean’s jacket. You heard a camera flash and groaned.

“Dude, a little bit of privacy?” said Dean, turning and expecting the photographer but finding the newlyweds instead.

“You forgot your phone, Y/N,” said Angie, handing it over, the picture of you and Dean still on the screen. “Just returning it to the lovers.”

“Goodnight lovers,” said Dean back, pulling you up and out of there before you got anymore comments.

Bedtime was better than the night before but you were agitated at the thought of having to sleep alone soon. You’d always known it was coming but it didn’t make it feel any less strange.

“How you doing, De?” you asked, holding his hands in yours as you sat on the plane, waiting to take off.

“Okay so far,” he said. “Almost home.”

“Almost home,” you said, Dean nearly bolting out of his seat when the safety instructions began. This time he shut his eyes and let you run your hands up and down his arms, humming a melody that didn’t make any sense but calmed him none the less. You kept it up until you were leveled out, Dean’s head practically buried under the crook of your arm. “Dean?”

“I’m okay,” he said, making no indication that he ever wanted to move from that spot. Neither of you moved away and you let him hide himself away in you for the next seven hours, truly realizing how much he’d been in hell the first time around. When you finally touched back down, Dean sighed in relief and you decided he deserved a little more than just a free vacation.

“I guess this is it,” you said at the baggage claim, both of you with your bags in hand. Dean’s car was parked in the far lot, yours in the near one. “Here,” you said, handing him an envelope.

“Y/N, I’m not accepting anymore money from you,” said Dean, knowing what was inside.

“Compensation for the emotional scarring of those plane rides then,” you said, shoving it in his coat pocket.

“You’re not taking no for an answer,” he said sighing.

“Nope,” you said. “Thanks for being my fake boyfriend.”

“It was interesting to say the least,” he said, looking down.

“Bye, De,” you said, unsure what to do with yourself. Dean took a step forward and gave you a small hug.

“Bye, runt,” he said, letting you go and taking a step back. He gave a quick wave as he headed off one way, you the other.

“Bye, Dean,” you said to yourself.

Alone again.

You were laying on your couch in sweats, watching Netflix when you started to get hungry. You sat up to grab a takeout menu when your doorbell rang. It was almost eight and you hardly ever got visitors.

“Hi runt,” said Dean, holding a pizza and six pack. He was dressed in jeans and a blue plaid shirt, a black muscle car parked in front of your house. “Want to join me for dinner?”

“Uh, come in,” you said, stepping to the side, baffled to see Dean Winchester standing before you. Dean smiled as he kicked off his boots and wandered into your kitchen, setting the food down.

“I like your house,” he said, spinning around.

“Thanks,” you said, shutting the door. You shook your head as you searched for the right words.

“Let me,” he said, holding up a hand. “See…I was walking away from you at that airport today and I was like, I’m not ending it like this. What was I going to do with myself if I could never see you again? I couldn’t handle that. So I came up with this genius idea. Go to her house! But I don’t want to seem weird so I brought food. Then I thought, grow a damn pair Winchester and just tell her the truth.”

You stood with wide eyes as Dean walked over, looking down at you with the same eyes you’d seen at the pool, these ones perfectly sober.

“I was always hiding something from you, you were right about that,” said Dean. “Runt, I ran into you on that street because you just made my fucking world stop. It was like getting hit by a bus. I don’t know why but I just knew it was supposed to be you. I’m horrible at being a person though so I didn’t ask you out like a normal guy would. Instead I went and was your fake boyfriend for the past week. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if I was your real one from now on?”

“This is actually happening right? Like we didn’t die in a fiery plane crash and this is some afterlife?” you said, holding up your hands.

“It’s real,” said Dean, taking your hand in his. “What do you say? Real boyfriend?”

“Fuck yeah you can be my boyfriend,” you said, smiling harder than ever in your life.

“Good,” he said, planting a kiss to your lips that felt right and real. “So much better than pretending.”

“How long did you know?” you asked, Dean tilting his head.

“Know what?” he asked.

“That I was falling for you,” you said, wrapping your arms around him.

“Never knew. I hoped that some of the things you did were real, the little touches when no one else saw, the kiss at the pool, waking up in the mornings,” said Dean.

“Mornings?” you asked. “I thought it was only…”

“I woke up with my arm around you every day. You only caught me the once yesterday. I hated having to push myself away when you were curled up in me,” said Dean, moving to run his hands up and down your arms.

“Even this morning?” you asked, Dean nodding. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said.

“Tomorrow when we wake up, you’re gonna keep it there,” you said, Dean kissing you one more time. Yup, that certainly felt the way it was supposed to.

“We’re going to bed together?” asked Dean with a wink.

“I’ve been sleeping by your side for days. Why stop now?” you asked, taking Dean’s hand in yours.

“I like the way you think runt,” said Dean, letting you drag him over to your kitchen counter, sitting him down in one of the barstools. “You realize I’m going to have to get over my fear of flying if we keep going back to that hotel.”

“Or we can move closer,” you said, Dean raising an eyebrow. “Oh come on, you already said you’re gah gah over me. Maybe I didn’t instantly know like you but there’s something about you that’s…”

“Trust me, I understand completely,” said Dean, opening a beer for you.

“What I’m saying is, like moving in with each other isn’t going to happen soon?” you said.

“I didn’t say that,” said Dean. “In fact, I can guarantee it happening this week if you’re willing to take another chance on me.”

“Regular old married couple aren’t we?” you joked, opening up the pizza and taking a slice. You saw Dean smile and had an idea. “Where does Sam live again?”

“Hi Uncle Bruce,” you said, walking into the hotel lobby, dragging a bag in one hand, Dean’s wrapped around your other.

“Hi Y/N. I see you brought Dean back. We didn’t scare him off?” he joked, Dean looking relaxed in his tee and jeans.

“Nah. This family needs a little more Winchester in it,” said Dean, smiling down at you.

“Fly in okay?” you heard your mother ask when she spotted you and Dean.

“Actually…” said Dean with a smirk. “We moved. We’re a three hour car ride away and only about fifteen minutes from my brother.”

“Y/N! Why didn’t you tell us you moved!” she said as Bruce slapped Dean on the shoulder.

“I’m sure upper management worked with Dean to let him move around, huh?” he said.

“Dean owns a garage. He doesn’t trade stock, didn’t go to college, didn’t do a lot of the shit I said he did actually. He sold off the one in Kansas and is slowly getting this one up to speed. If you’ve got a problem with that fact, if any of you do because he isn’t like the rest of you,” you said, turning to face the members of your family that were listening in, “I can tell you exactly where to shove it.”

“Down girl,” said Dean to you. “No one’s made any crass comments yet.”

“Y/N, that’s…” you heard one of your cousins say. Josh. Fuck, like Dean didn’t already hate him.

“Y/N’s happy so everyone back the fuck off,” said Angie. “God knows that girl deserves some kindness from this shitty family for once.” You nodded your thanks to her as some of your relatives who had looked ready to speak shut up.

“So, how about that lucky room?” said Dean, turning around to the front desk. “I’m thinking this might be the time.”

“Dean it’s been like a month,” you joked, knowing he was only teasing.

“Are you pregnant?” you heard your mother exclaim.

“No, we’ve just been together that long is all. We lied about that too. Sorry,” you said.

“No, it’s…as long as you’re happy,” she said. You’d have a talk with your parents later, you and Dean both would but for once you were actually happy to be at one of these things. You checked in without further incident and plopped down on the bed, Dean kicking the door shut.

“So much better than that stupid plane,” said Dean, falling down next to you and pulling you into his chest.

“I honestly just wanted you to be closer to Sam,” you said, holding him tight. “I’m glad you let me talk you into it.”

“I’m glad we decided to stop pretending. I had so many thoughts of what I wanted to do to you in this bed,” said Dean, rolling you over as you giggled.

“Or in that shower,” you said. “All of that in due time.”

“I love you runt,” he said, the words slipping off his tongue effortlessly.

“I love you too, De.”

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