#this was supposed to be a warmup but i spent too long on it and got sick of drawing so boom

[unordinary-diary]

Blyke in Season 3.

This is my prediction. With the way Season 2 ended, I think they’ll find Blyke months later looking something like this.

Shit happens to people in prison. Terrence was murdered in his cell, Rein was worried about being killed by other inmates, hell, Blyke’s already pretty banged up in the finale and he’s been there for 2.5 seconds. Not to mention that the Authorities seem to have no problem torturing kids *COUgh* Keon.

Perhaps it’s a bit pessimistic, but the story’s been getting a lot darker lately. I doubt Blyke’s getting out of prison without a little extra trauma at least.

Latest Chapter as of Prediction: Side Story — Triple Threat (1)

[sugarfreerooibos]

Dirb Striger

[sp0o0kylights]

Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine. 

Anyway I wrote a lil thing as a warmup 

PART TWO

"Why don't you come sit with Hellfire?" Gareth asked, angrily leaned against the bathroom wall while Steve fixed his hair.

He'd tried not to cling since he entered high school. Tried to keep things on the downlow, least any gossipy mouths started running. 

It was so stupidly, needlessly, hard. 

 His cousin was only two years ahead of him but they'd spent the last year in different schools because of it. 

 That year, and the lack of Steve's presence in it, had grated. Now that he finally had Steve back, Gareth was loathe to play by the rules. 

"Sit with you and Eddie, "the freak" Munson? I'll pass." Steve said, but there was no bite in it. 

That, Gareth knew, was because Steve was  using Eddie as an excuse. 

"You'd like Eddie if you spent five minutes with him, King Steve." Gareth fired back on automatic. His fingers dug into his arms, as he resisted the urge to pace around the bathroom floor. 

Unspoken was all the shit that had taken place.

Steve and Nancy's breakup. The rumor mill in overdrive, first about how Jonathan Byers had taken creep shot photos of them, then about how he'd taken his shot with Nancy herself. 

The supposed cheating, the public fights, the crazy background of Jonathan's little brother being missing. 

Billy Hargrove beating Steve to a pulp. 

Now friendless, Steve had thoroughly fallen from his place at the tippy top of the social hierarchy and between his utter lack of friends and his shit tier parents, Gareth was concerned. 

"You do not want me to sit with you, Gary. I'd tell all your little friends that you're apart of the royal family." Steve turned, making an exaggerated face. "How's Munson feel about cozying up to a Prince?" 

"I'd technically be an Earl, Steve, not a prince." Gareth grumbled. 

He got an eye roll in response. "Somehow I don't think he'll care." 

"I do though." Gareth blurted out, absolutely thoughtless. 

Steve blinked at him. 

"What?" He said. 

In for a penny right?

 "I care." Gareth said, looking down and scuffing a shoe, making it squeak against the grimy tiles. "About you. You dick." 

"Wow Gary you almost sounded loving there."

For once, he ignored the jab. "I'm worried about you, man." He said it quietly, the painful truth pulled out of him almost by force. 

He knew better than anyone how few people Steve had. Knew how his dad was likely taking all the crap Steve had been involved in lately. 

Richard Harrington hadn't been the wedge that had separated his and Steve's mother, but the man hadn't done them any favors, either. 

His intolerance towards the working and lower classes, his demand for perfection, the way he looked down his nose not just on Gareth's parents but on his own wife and son…

Gareth's mom didn't tolerate it. 

Likewise, Stella Harrington didn't tolerate her sister ruining her shot at being a rich trophy wife. 

Both their sets of parents were dramatic and neither of them weren't anywhere near the concept of "good" but at least Gareth's weren't neglectful and abusive. 

Shitty absolutely, but he never worried about getting thrown out, or that his mom wouldn't acknowledge his birthday because he'd "complimented her outfit the wrong way." 

(”It's fine dude she just thought I called her ugly. It was a miscommunication. Dad said it's a good lesson about how women work."

"Casual reminder that your dad's an asshole and also how is telling your mom that she looked lovely in the sunlight telling her she's ugly?”

“It implied she wasn't lovely the rest of the time or some shit, I dunno man.”) 

The BMW was a shitty prize when compared what Steve had dealt with to receive it. 

"I'm okay." Steve said seriously. "It's almost the end of the year anyways. I can tough out having some extra alone time." 

"If you're sure…"

"Yeah man, I'm sure. Thanks though."

Then Steve pulled him into a hug and fuck their parents, who demanded they continued some stupid grudge. Gareth clung to him just as hard as he had at ten. Unsure if he'd ever be allowed to see Steve again.

[teapartyprincess4two]

I need a jealous matt fic from you. like actuallyyyy

Urban Cowboy- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Cowgirl!reader x CityBoy!Matt

classification: fluff, angst

warnings: use of y/n, mentions of jealousy, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol and alcohol use, set in the county/ a ranch

inspiration: request^^, Urban Cowboy (the movie) but with a twist & none of the abuse. Also, we’re taking a different route with jealousy hehehe

summary: Matt, a city boy, tries one upping you, the best bull rider in town, only to be met with a painful outcome.

—

Every summer the triplets were shipped away to their grandparents ranch out in the country. For a couple of months, they left their busy city life behind in favor of days plowing the field, tending to livestock, and helping their grandparents out.

Since they were kids, Matt and his brothers have always loved summers out in the country. They spent their days swimming in the river, attending the state fair, running across acres of land, and riding their bikes down dirt roads. So many of their core memories were made during these summer trips, the change of pace allowing them to unwind and relax.

But, as the boys grew older, they began practicing less innocent hobbies. Days playing in the sun were replaced with long, drunk nights at local bars. They danced with attractive people, got into bar fights, and most importantly, they traded in their bikes for mechanical bulls.

Nick and Chris were experts on the mechanical bull, easily outlasting everyone else, but everyone knew that they were just the warmup. The real show started once Matt mounted that bull, his firm grip on the leather rope enough to hold him for longer than anyone else. He had an unmatched strength that helped him too, and he quickly became cocky about it.

Crowds of drunk people would gather just to watch Matt, cheering him on with each passing minute. They would bet on how long he’d last, each time surprised that he was able to hang on for so long. The mechanical bull thrashed and bucked, but Matt’s firm grip held him steadily in place.

No one could ever outlast Matt, until you came along at least. Unlike Matt, you weren’t a city transplant. No, you were born and raised in the country, spending more than just summers doing manual labor. So, where he had natural strength, you had muscles built from years of hard work. There was also another distinguishable difference; he was bull riding as a serious hobby, but you were only doing it for fun.

Bull riding is a past time you’ve practiced your whole life, you didn’t see the point in showing off, but the second you mounted that bull and beat Matt’s time, he couldn’t help but feel like you were. It felt like you were kicking dirt in his face.

Matt, Nick, and Chris watch from the bar. They’re sitting on the stools, facing the crowd that has piled up around you. The conductor, who sits just behind the bull setup, is jolting the remote aggressively from side to side, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t knock you off. Matt feels the jealousy stir in his stomach as the crowd cheers for you, they were only supposed to cheer for him!

“Who the fuck is that?” Matt grumbles mostly to his brothers, but loud enough for the bartender to hear.

Nick and Chris shrug, how were they supposed to know who you were? Chris calls the bartender over with a tilt of his head, silently ordering three beers with his hands.

The bartender immediately fills up three glasses, the alcohol fizzing and frothing at the top. “That’s Y/n… Her dad owns the mill on the outskirts of town, biggest flour company in the west. I heard they made enough money to buy another ranch last year… Shit, they own just about every business this side of town. Pretty sure they own this damn bar,” the bartender chimes in his deep country accent catching the boys off guard as he slides the glasses to them.

Matt, who’s leaning against the bar counter, crooks his neck to look at the bartender, looking him up and down before quickly averting his gaze back to you.

Matt can’t believe anyone could ever outlast his record time of 10 minutes, but as he watches the clock he notices that you were nearing 15. “She’s fucking beating you, dude,” Chris laughs, taking a sip of his beer before slapping Matt’s chest enthusiastically. The neon clock numbers are taunting Matt, causing him to clench his jaw as his pride gets the best of him.

His whole shtick was that he was the city boy who easily outlasted all these country kids, what good did that do if he was beat by a girl?

The mechanical bull thrashes violently as the conductor tries knocking you off, but you’re using your momentum to push you past the 15 minute mark. You don’t even look like you’re struggling either, a big smile plastered on your face as you grip onto the leather rope with one hand and your hat with the other. Everyone is watching excitedly, suddenly erupting into a loud cheer as you create a new record.

“I’ve never seen anyone last that long,” Nick comments, a look of awe and shock on his face. “Then you must not be from ‘round here. That girl is a natural on that thing, she wins the bull riding contest at the state fair every year,” the bartender replies, butting into the conversation once again before shaking his head and walking away.

Matt waits until he’s out of earshot to say, “What the fuck does that mean? ‘You must not be from ‘round here?’” He puts on a dramatic, exaggerated country accent as he says the last part, an annoyed look written all over his face.

You’re standing on the bull now, riding it like a surfer rides a wave. The crowd is going crazy, cheering you on as you continue putting on a show. A smile is spread across your face as you gently sit back down, laying on your back and propping your feet on the horns, your hands weaved between your thighs as you hold onto the leather rope. Everything about your performance was effortless, and it angered Matt.

Matt decides he’s seen enough when you throw both legs to one side, casually holding yourself up with your hands on either side of your hips. He snatches his beer from the bar violently, practically chugging it before throwing it back in the counter. He sucks in through his teeth shortly after at the strong sensation, following it with a burp before throwing his hat back on and stomping over to the crowd.

“I’ll show you who ain’t from ‘round here,” Matt mutters, pushing his way through the crowd until he’s directly in front of the inflatable foundation of the bull machine. You walk right past him as you dismount, making brief eye contact as you drunkenly giggle and laugh your way to your friends. He watches as you stumble, dizzy steps guiding you through the crowd. For some reason this only further upsets Matt, causing him to mount the bull haphazardly.

He sends the conductor a look, signifying that he’s ready to start, before gripping the leather rope so tightly that his knuckles turn white. The machine starts off slowly, rocking back and forth at a pace that gives Matt enough time to properly adjust himself.

But, before he knows it, the bull is gyrating, twisting, and turning so aggressively that he’s struggling to hold on. Matt’s mind is racing with thoughts, the fear of embarrassment causing the anxiety to build up. It feels like the conductor is purposefully trying to knock him off with enough force to hurt him, and it doesn’t help that no one in the crowd is cheering.

After the show you just gave, Matt’s performance was sub par in comparison. He was stiff as a board from the nerves, making it harder to keep his balance. By this point his his hat flew off, bouncing on the inflatable floor beneath him, and he was holding onto the rope for dear life.

“Look at this guy, showing off because he got beat by a girl,” someone snickers from the crowd, the comment being followed by a roar of laughter. That’s when the conductor bucks the machine forward, quickly knocking Matt onto his stomach before pulling the remote and forcing Matt to straighten his back to stay mounted.

Just as he’s gaining confidence in himself, the bull tilts to the right sharply enough to send Matt flying. The inflatable cushion beneath him does nothing to break his fall, the sheer force at which he was thrown being enough to break his arm. The crowd immediately groans as they watch Matt’s body ricochet when it comes in contact with the edge of the ring.

You were facing away from the crowd, engaged in a conversation with your friends, but as soon as you hear the crowd groaning and yelling you turn towards the scene. Matt is laying on the ground, clutching his arm as he tries to breathe through the pain. Everyone watches, but nobody helps, they just stand there either laughing or wincing at the idea of being in that much pain.

“Move!” you exclaim, pushing your way through the crowd and immediately walking into the ring. The spongy ground makes it harder to walk to Matt, who’s looking at you with wide eyes. This was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

You crouch in front of him, using all your force to pull him up from the ground while still being careful not to hurt him.

He lets you pick him up and guide him to a secluded area. His cheeks are burning hot with embarrassment and his eyes sting, the tears threatening to spill from the build up of anxiety and pain.

But he sucks it up and follows you, avoiding everyone’s wandering eyes.

—

“It don’t look broken, just sprained,” you comment, wrapping a bandage around Matt’s limp wrist. He hums in response, avoiding eye contact with you and you can’t figure out why.

“Sorry if I’m oversteppin’. just thought you could use some help,” your country accent is thick, and for the first time since the night started Matt isn’t completely jealous of you. He’s silently grateful that you evacuated him from the embarrassing situation, immediately feeling guilt for trying to one up you and show off.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, wincing as you accidentally pull his wrist. Once the pain subsides he continues, “you were pretty great out there.” The compliment hurts his ego, but you’re being so kind to him that he puts his own jealousies to the side. Matt’s sitting on a bar stool, the both of you in a secluded corner of the bar as you continue tending to his injury.

“Thanks, weren’t too bad yourself,” you offer him a genuine smile, gently placing his arm onto his lap. It was evident, just by looking at him, that Matt wasn’t from here and that made him more alluring. You stand in between his legs, the close proximity building a tension that neither of you know what to do with.

“Can I be honest?” he asks, once again avoiding eye contact and looking into the distance. His eyes train on the mechanical bull, watching as someone else takes a turn on it. You hum in response, trying to move in front of his line of vision to catch his attention.

“I only got on that bull because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” His statement caught you off guard, what did he have to be jealous of?

“Yeah, jealous. It sounds childish, but I really wanted to beat your time… all I ended up with was a sprained wrist,” he chuckles, fiddling with his fingers. If he wasn’t being so vulnerable, and if he wasn’t injured, you might’ve gotten upset.

“Well, I’ve seen you ride before. You’re better than everyone here,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation uplifting.

“Not better than you.”

“Yeah, not better than me,” you reply seriously, waiting for him to face you before smiling. “I’m kidding,” you laugh, punching his shoulder slightly. He winces before joining you with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I can teach you a few moves,” you continue, your eyes wrinkling from how hard you were smiling. Matt’s smiling too, he felt silly for feeling jealous earlier.

“I’d like that,” he chuckles, opening his legs wider for you to scoot in closer. You take the invitation, your hats bumping together slightly. The smile on your face is engulfed by Matt’s lips as he moves in for a kiss, his uninjured wrist resting on your waist.

“Easy there, cowboy,” you murmur as you feel his hands inch down towards your ass. He laughs in response, going in for another kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

Cowboy Matt is my favorite. I might make a part two that’s much more angsty bc we need that full Urban Cowboy moment, but for now enjoy this 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[beepbeepinthecorner]

well, this was supposed to just be a warmup but i accidentally spent way too long designing. oops. Basically I wanted to do an android-y GLaDOS design where her actual android body is still fixed in place, but idk if I really landed there? In the end it's just a cool alternate design I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[keefwho]

January 04 - 2024 Thursday

11:07pm

6/10

This morning I showered immediately because mom was going to take me to Seeley. For breakfast I had a little leftover potato soup with a couple pieces of toast and a babybel cheese. We left 30 minutes later than I wanted to because breakfast took longer than I thought.

The first place we went was the grocery store. I grabbed 2 potatoes, a carrot, a celery stick, and really good looking egg noodles. Also picked up drinks for the weekend. The guy at the register didn't card me. After that we went to the high school so mom could drop something off. I've been wanting to see the inside of the school again and I finally got to 10 years later. It was a strange experience, I felt like I wasn't supposed to be there or like I loaded a 100% completed save file. I was flooded with memories of things that happened in the few halls we went down and the few rooms I saw into. Very nostalgic. Then we went to the post office so I could mail Daisy's Christmas presents. I crumbled a little and asked mom if she could go in with me but she said no which was a good thing. I went in on my own and it went okay. It was a little awkward because I was standing at the wrong card machine but other than that, it went fine. Our last stop was the weed store where mom picked up a new disposable vape pen for me. I can't enter the store myself because my ID is expired.

When I got home I started work and was warming up with space art. Daisy called me for something so I stopped streaming to spend time with her but started again when we were done. I finished 2 space art warmups and worked on 570's commission for a little over an hour. I ended early because of my busy morning but I did as much as I needed to. Right after that I hung up Daisy's friendiversary gift over my bed and relocated my Master Sword a little to the left. Both nails were being finicky and got bent but I made them work.

Lunch was a big turkey sandwich with some Doritos. Breakfast was small calorie-wise and I could feel it. I was also weighing less from yesterday so lunch was very big and hardy. While I ate I watched Bojack as usual. After lunch I did today's request which was a little hard and annoying but I did it. Then I spent an hour working on a Zelda pic while hanging out in David's server. I actually wanted to socialize so I wasn't so annoyed being there this time.

After work I did my yoga which has made my core sore. Not long after that Daisy was free so we called and were productive together. She worked on her fursuit and I worked on a couple worlds. When I was done I started playing Kerbal finally since thats all I wanted to do today. We watched another Chris Chan reading and some more of My Immortal. Daisy headed upstairs so I booted up Neopets. We talked a lot tonight about work stress, change, and the sexual atmosphere of the furry fandom. In Neopets I got bugged and had to reload and re-fight the entire coloseum. I was able to squeeze in one more rocket launch in KSP after she fell asleep. I also had to address some urges for the second time today even though it was too late for it.

Today went well. I didn't feel like going to Seeley and interacting with people but I got over it and had fun outside. I felt a little bad about not doing my full commission time but realistically I was okay not doing it all. I had some thoughts today about change and how scary it is whether it's good or bad. I'm looking forward to partying tomorrow. In general I feel good about some things and worried about others.

[mikansei]

it's january 3rd and i have not finished a single kisuke but what i DO have is:

a hime cut, for some reason (that was supposed to be a warmup sketch but u will notice there is ink. Do Not Ask)

a desperate reckoning with the six arms of Nyoirin Kannon statues and my phone’s horrible camera (at about which time i realized the pose i have in mind has far outstripped my abilities. also i couldn’t draw the hougyoku so it’s a d20)

this sick ass benihime i looked up so many pictures of bjds for (and that i drew on the back of another drawing and didn’t mean to render. “it was only supposed to be a quick sketch" my old nemesis. my beloathed. worstie i did not miss u)

and

appx. half a kisuke and a composition mockup i spent WAY too long on considering i’m not actually going to draw it digitally, but at least i can rearrange his legs without erasing holes in the paper

edit: WAIT

ooh ahh perspective......

[cephalort-cephalart]

Midna

[butchdash-archive]

finally drew butch luna!! I don't have the energy to digitize this and make it nice so here's a messy sketch of her

[cheswirls]

spent a lot of time thinkin abt alt hair colors n i borrowed 2 kids for it

( lyss is @fullmoonisle‘s and den is @sydchan‘s )

[sweet-curried-powder]

i said i was going to do it, so i did it. i wrote something for sk8. specifically kyagawa. or haseyan. whatever their ship is. 

this is shorter than i’d like it to be, really, but it’s my first time writing fic for a fandom outside of undertale/ibvs, so this is sort of a warmup, kinda, to see how i want to write these boys cause my god, i love these boys.

i don’t think there’s any warnings for this, really? there are spoilers for the sk8 in here, so yea. a heads up.

the fic’s under the cut!

@jitters-box i’m tagging you cause i told you i was writing sk8 fic and i know you want this shit

When they first announced that their class was getting a new transfer student, Reki didn’t really pay too much attention. In fact, he wasn’t really even paying attention that day, he was busy doodling an idea for a new skateboard design in his sketchbook. He got lectured by his teacher that day for not paying attention not too long after, even though nothing was actually being taught.

But it didn’t matter to Reki, at least not then. He soon forgot about the exchange student who was supposed to come soon. At least, for a little while. 

Then came the race against him and SHADOW. He didn’t just end up losing, he ended up slamming right into a wall at full force. Reiki’s arm was hurt in the process, but luckily it wasn’t broken, but it did need to be bandaged. Too bad there wasn’t a bandage for the lithe boy’s pride.

The next day, the exchange student arrived.

His name was Langa Hasegawa.

He was from Canada, but spoke Japanese. 

He had blue, snow like hair, which fell past his ears.

His eyes were blue too.

And he was pretty. Really, really pretty. Reki even heard a few of the female students talking about how cute Langa was. He had to be honest, Langa was fairly attractive, but he seemed so...spacey. Like he was zoning out. So he didn’t really pay much mind.

But later, after school, Reki was just messing around with his skateboard in front of his work, when he accidentally dropped the board and it went zooming away.

Reki was cursing under his breath as he ran after his board, which was quickly gaining speed. The road was sort of slanted downwards, which wasn’t good for Reki at this moment in time. It seemed like nothing was going right for him this week.

At least, until he spotted Langa picking up his skateboard, staring at it with some sort of fascination in his eyes.

Little did either of them know, was that very first interaction was the beginning. The beginning of a beautiful friendship that soon rooted and took bloom. 

A lot of times when they spent time with each other, from the very beginning, skating was a main interest shared between the two of them. They talked about skating tricks, famous skateboarders, and potential board designs. They would practice tricks after school, sometimes in places where they weren’t allowed to skate, which led into occasionally being chased by police officers. Langa would spend the night at Reki’s or vice versa, and they’d be up late watching skating videos or skating movies, huddled up under a blanket.

Reki cared deeply for his friend. He trusted Langa with all his life, and he believed in him deeply. And how could he not? His Canadian friend had been there during the beef between him and Adam, saved him from the weird monsters that had chased them down when they visited the beach… 

He didn’t even realize that his feelings for Langa had changed...at least, not until recently.

It was a few weeks after their beach trip. Reki’s injuries had fully healed, but even despite Cherry and Miya’s warnings to be careful, he attempted to practice the jump that Joe had done back at the beach. He didn’t do so well, and he crashed onto the ground hard. He wasn’t seriously hurt, luckily, but he was scraped up and mildly bruised. It was nothing for Reki, he’d gotten banged up like this before, but Langa panicked and ran over to help him up, dragging him to Cherry’s calligraphy shop, where he knew there was a first aid kit.

“Langa, I’m fine, really,��� Reki tried to reassure his friend, who was splashing some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball. “It’s only a few scrapes, I’ve had worse-” Reki flinched, feeling the sting of the rubbing alcohol on his open wound.

“Sorry,” Langa apologized. “But you should have been more careful. Your injuries just fully healed, you need to take it slow.” He tended to his friend’s wounds gently, as if he were handling something frail and delicate. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Then Reki felt something. Something that he couldn’t describe, but part of him knew what it was. Love.

And it was for his friend. 

...fuck.

[blu-joons]

Exposure. Jeon Jungkook

Part Two

OVERVIEW: Being the little secret of a member of the world’s biggest boy band was never going to be easy. WIth all the hiding around and tiptoeing, it only seemed to be a matter of time until you got caught out, but when you are, how will that affect your relationship with the man who had given you it all?

PART: i ii

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.4k words

——————————

“The boys really are so excited to see you, they’ve been pestering me to bring you to the studio since we got back,” the blue-eyed blue told you as he drove down the road. The small crack in the window blew his fringe back in the breeze bringing a smile to your face, the roads were quite, allowing your ears to be filled the mellow tunes of one of his new playlists he’d created whilst he’d been on tour. “They don’t know you’re coming, so hopefully it will be a nice surprise for them.”

“I’d be a bit disappointed if they weren’t happy to see me,” you chuckled, pointing out to the road, turning his eyes away from yours, earning a cheeky giggle from him.

The studio wasn’t too far away, conversation was minimal, instead the two of you chose to enjoy the sounds of the music and tune in to the outside world through the gaps in the windows. He parked in his usual spot, looking around at all the cars that were outside. “Looks like we’re just waiting on Jimin.”

“There’s a surprise,” you chimed, stepping out of the car, grabbing your handbag from the backseat.

“I’m sure Namjoon will give him a talking to,” he informed you, slipping his hand into yours as you walked into the building. The three security guards who stood at the foot of the building offered you both a warming smile as you walked across, his hand moved to the small of your back guiding you into the building, following closely behind you, shutting the entrance door.

The noise of all the boys quickly hit you, it was as if they hadn’t spent the past few months on tour, everything you knew fell back into palace. Takeaway boxes could be found trailed along the corridor, jumpers and hoodies had been discarded wherever they pleased, not to mention the several mugs of coffee that had been forgotten about during different moments.

“It’s a good job no one important is coming to visit,” you teased, pointing out all the bits of rubbish your eyes instantly fell on. He sighed, shrugging innocently to it all, if you knew he was responsible for most of it, you’d never let him live it down.

“I think the boys would argue you that you are very important, as would I,” he responded, kissing the side of your face.

Your eyes rolled at his cheeky grin, brushing your hand along the side of his face, before pulling him down so he was level with you. “I know you’re responsible for this,” you assured him, shaking your head at him.

He pouted down at you, leading you down the corridor across to the rehearsal room where the five boys, who’d managed to arrive on time were sat. Each of them was on the floor, everyone had a coffee in front of them, except for Taehyung who wisely decided just to drink from his water bottle. You pushed the door open, watching as they all looked around, smiling wide when they saw the two of you walk in together.

“Y/N!”

You thought Jungkook was exaggerating when he told you the boys would be excited to see you, but when arms quickly flew around your frame pulling you into a tight hug, you knew how serious he truly was. “Guys, I need to breathe, please.”

Jungkook’s hand came across, grabbing their shoulders, one by one pulling them away from you, smirking as you adjusted your outfit and hair from the mess they’d caused. All of them possessed sheepish grins when you turned to face them.

“It’s so nice to see you, we all missed you whilst we were on tour,” Hobi was the first to speak, clapping his hands together in excitement, skipping around you.

Namjoon chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand, “what he means to say is that we missed having you look after us, you’re the rightful mother of BTS after all.

“I’m sure you all managed just fine without me,” you smiled, giggling when they all shook their heads. Despite being in a relationship with their maknae, you were just like a mum to the rest of them. You cooked them meals, kept the place tidy, hence the state it was in without you around, and made sure they were well looked after. “Except, who do I need to have a word with about the current mess in that hallway?”

Fingers were pointed everywhere along with shrieks of protests claiming innocence towards you, no one wanted to admit the fault and face your wrath of fury. You smirked at them all, they all argued you had Jungkook whipped, but you definitely had all of them wrapped around your finger most days.

You sat down with them all, being passed a water bottle from Jungkook off the side, “we’ve got loads of things to show you from our travels, if you’re interested?”

You nodded, opting to sit yourself in between his legs, resting back against his hard chest, “we can’t do anything yet, Jimin isn’t here,” you reminded them, hearing them all sigh.

“I doubt he’ll be here for some time, since tour, he’s been late every day,” Namjoon told you, grabbing a couple of boxes from one of the cupboards on the left wall of the studio.

Each of them began to take out items that were important to them, Namjoon had bought small ornaments from every place they visited to place on his shelf, Hobi had several garments from markets and stores they’d visited on their days off, whilst Taehyung had lots of hats, flipping between several of them to show you precisely how they looked. Whilst Taehyung gave you a catwalk, Jin was happy to show you all the games he’d found from different places that he was excited to try, followed by Yoongi who had exhausted most shops for equipment to place in his studio, as he argued, small gifts were just meaningless in years to come.

Finally, you looked to Jungkook who pulled out a box filled with lots of random pieces, he had a flag from America, a snow globe from France, a magnet from Australia, as well as several statues and glass ornaments that he’d found along the way.

“Everywhere we went, I picked up something that reminded me of you,” he told you, passing you a glass angel ornament he’d purchased on the New Zealand leg of the tour.

“This is beautiful Kook; what do you think you’ll do with it?”

He took it from you with a shaking hand, wrapping it back up, placing it in the box. Your eyes furrowed in confusion, watching him do the same with everything that he’d bought. “I’m going to wrap them back up and keep them safe, just like how I’ll always keep you safe,” he smiled, leaning across to press a kiss to your cheek, “they’re far too important to risk breaking them, I want to keep them perfect.”

Around the room humorous gags came from the rest of the boys at Jungkook’s sweet comments. He looked around, but you pulled him back so that he was looking at you, “they’re just jealous.”

The box was repacked and placed safely away by Yoongi, just as the door opened, and an exhausted Jimin came flying through the door. His cheeks made it seem like he’d ran a marathon, his hair was a mess, but his smile still remained, just like it always did, widening only when he saw you sat with Jungkook’s arms firmly around you.

“What time do you call this? I’ve been sat around here for hours waiting for you to arrive,” you teased, standing up so that you could greet him with a proper hug.

He squeezed you tightly, apologising for the state he was in, glancing into the mirror of the studio, adjusting the blonde strands of hair so that they suited his face perfectly. He dropped his bag, absentmindedly listening to the scolding from Namjoon that Jungkook had so wisely predicted when the two of you were still in the car park.

With all the boys at last in the studio, they could begin to start their rehearsals. It quickly surprised you how after the conclusion of one tour their minds were so focussed on what was to come next. You sat down on one of the chairs that was around the circumference of the room whilst Hobi led them all in a warmup.

“Y/N, do you reckon you could be in charge of music?” He asked, looking back at you in the reflection of the mirror. You perked up, looking across at him, nodding your head. “If you’ve got your phone with you, anything will do.”

You reached into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out your phone, opening up your music app. “I’ve got the perfect song for you all.”

They stood in anticipation and waited, only their excitement turned to dismay when they recognised the opening melody of Euphoria playing into the room.

Jungkook quickly ran over, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head, “you’re so good at this,” he smiled proudly, poking his tongue out at all the boys.

Yoongi ran over, snatching your phone to press the pause button on the track, much to the relief of all the other members. “We expected better than that from you, I can’t believe you’d make us listen to that rubbish.”

“I might be a little bias, but he is my boyfriend.”

None of them seemed to care as they abruptly stripped you of your audio duties, passing the baton onto Namjoon. You pouted as Jungkook walked away, shaking his head shamefully at them all for being so cruel to you.

“You’re supposed to all be happy to see you may I remind you,” you shouted out, folding your arms across your chest. It mattered to none of them as Namjoon played a new song, one that everyone liked, well, except for you of course.

Their rehearsal went by reasonably fast; they were still very much in the early stages of it all, squabbling about what moves to place when in their routines, and which song they would consider singing at which point of the show. Whilst they argued amongst themselves, you sat back with a wide smile on your face, it was these small interactions that you missed the most when they were all on tour. Neither of them had any idea they were doing it, but perhaps that was what made them so cohesive and popular to so many people.

In the middle of their routine, the door opened once more, all of them paid no attention, except for you, smiling weakly when Bang PD walked in, huffing when he saw you sat on the chair, scrolling through your phone.

He walked in the opposite direction to where you sat, leaning on the back of the wall until the boys finished the song, breaking off for a drink.

“We weren’t expecting to see you today,” Jin spoke when he realised who else was stood in the door. In his hand he had a few pieces of paper, gripping onto them tightly until his fingers were white.

In your gut you could feel something wasn’t right, he’d never been completely immersed in your relationship like everyone else had been, but that never stopped him at least greeting you whenever you were around. Jungkook walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder as the boys all sat around you, drinking heavily from their water bottles.

Your eyes stared up at Jungkook who looked across at you with a weak smile brushing his hands through your hair, “why are you looking so nervous?”

“I don’t know, something just doesn’t feel great about all of this, I- “

You were interrupted by Bang PD clearing his throat, making everyone look across at him, his eyes were firmly exchanging stares at both you and Jungkook. All of the boys could tell straight away too that something was going on to do with the two of you, only no one had a clue what it all was about.

“Tell me Jungkook, when you came home from tour, where did you go?” He asked firmly.

Jungkook looked down at you, pointing towards you, “I went to see Y/N, like I always do when we come home from somewhere. Don’t worry, I was really careful and aware of my surroundings, I’ve become quite the master of sneaking around Y/N’s estate.”

A sinister chuckle escaped from his manager, leaving the two of you puzzled. He knew exactly how to get to your home, he’d always park as close as he could, wear dark clothes so that he didn’t stand out as much, and keep a hat on his head, and sunglasses on the bridge of his nose until their was a roof over his head.

He walked over to the two of you, handing you the paper he’d been holding, “if the two of you are so confident of being able to make all of this work, then how about you talk me through this.”

You turned over the printout that he gave you, studying it closely, to begin with you recognised his car, and then a few features of your street, and then focussed on the two people in the photo. One you were able to work out was you, leaving the other figure to be Jungkook by process of elimination.

Then your eyes fell on what was happening between you both, you remembered the evening clear as day, Jungkook told you to come down and say goodbye to him at the car, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did so.

“I-I don’t understand, we were careful,” he stuttered, looking across at everyone.

The disappointed look on everyone’s face was heart-breaking, all of them had been so trusting of the two of you to make things work, you had done for such a long time, but one lapse of judgement had ruined it all.

“I’ve now got several media outlets demanding to know what’s going on, they want to know why the nation’s sweetheart has been photographed kissing a random girl in the middle of a street.”

“I can fix this, I promise,” he tried to assure everyone, but they all quickly looked away.

“The two of you need to fix this now, you’ve been exposed, so tell me, how do you plan on fixing this?”

---

Masterlist

[myhockeyworld87]

Cheers - Matt Grzelcyk

Word Count: 1,261

Requested: yes

Warnings: Language

When you moved to Boston a couple of years ago, you never expected to meet the love of your life, but that’s exactly what happened when you met Matt. You knew nothing about hockey, but when your coworker asked you to go to a Bruins game; you figured you had nothing to lose since you were new to the area. She made you go early, so you could watch them warm-up and that’s when you saw him. 

 You didn’t really notice him until he came crashing into the boards in front of you. It honestly scared the shit out of you and had your beer splashing on the floor. “Fuck,” you muttered and looked up to see Matt smiling at you. He had the most piercing blue-gray eyes and at the moment they were staring at you. “Sorry,” He mumbled through the plexiglass. 

 You shrugged it off, and added, “I’ll live.” He skated away then. 

 “Oh my god, he is so into you,” Abigail told you while grabbing your arm and spilling more of your beer.

 “Really Abs?" you asked brushing more beer off you. "He just probably couldn’t stop or something.” 

 “No, I’m telling you. I read somewhere that when they think a girl is hot, they totally do this.” You rolled your eyes at her. 

 “He probably has a girlfriend and is just looking for a side piece.”

 “Nope, totally single.”

 “And how do you know this?” She went to say something, but you stopped her. “No, don’t tell me, the same place you read about ramming into us.” She simply lifted her shoulder and smiled.

 “Don’t look now, but he seems to be warming up in your line of sight.” Matt was of course. He was doing some kind of stretch right in front of you and Abigail. 

 “It’s probably what he always does.”

 “Nope, I’ve been here a few times and he doesn’t stretch here. I’m telling you he likes you.”

 “Abs, I can’t even pronounce his last name. Hell, I don’t even know his first.” This was your first hockey game, the most you knew was that the puck was to go in the net.

 “It’s Matt.” 

 The next thing you knew he was skating over, dangling a puck off the end of his stick. “Hey,” he shouted over to you. “Sorry about the beer.” He flipped the puck up then tossed it on the other side of the glass to you. You grabbed it and mouthed a ‘Thanks’ back over to him.

 “I told you!” You didn’t want to admit it, but the puck in your hand was telling you Abigail was right. 

 “So he gave me a puck,” You said trying to brush off the gesture. “He probably gives them away every game.”

 “Sure to children, not grown women.” The team skated off the ice, ending the warmups and hopefully this obsession that Abigail had with this Matt guy being interested in you. You changed the subject, and thankfully Abby let you. 

 The countdown to the start of the game began on the jumbotron. Saying that it would begin in three minutes when an usher came down and tapped you on the shoulder. He had a folded piece of paper in his hand. “You’re the girl that got the puck right?”

 “Yes,” you said holding up the aforementioned object. Maybe you’d won a prize or something; how exciting.

 “Then this is for you.” He said handing over the paper.

 Slowly you unfolded it, then read what was inside. ‘Would love to get to know you. Call me after the game 617-555-1212 - Matt.’ You handed it over to Abigail. “What do I do?”

 “You call him!” She screamed, and those around all stared at the two of you. You snatched the piece of paper back and slunk down in the seat, shushing your friend at the same time. The whole evening you spent worrying between calling Matt and watching the number forty-eight skate around on the ice. In the end, you decided to just send him a text, even though Abigail said you were chicken for not calling.

 ‘Thanks for the puck.’ It was short simple and to the point. I mean what else were you supposed to say. This way if he was truly interested, he would text back. His reply came back fairly quick. ‘Would love to sign it for you and maybe buy you a drink sometime.’ Of course, you and Abigail ended up meeting up with him a couple of guys from the team for drinks. After that, the two of you were inseparable. There were long dinner dates at first, that was just the two of you. As you got more comfortable, he started offering you tickets to his home games, where you got to be friends with the other wives and girlfriends. Before you knew it, he was taking you to team events and one year later you were moving in with him.

 Now here you were three years later, on the exact day that you met him, celebrating your anniversary. Matt had gone all out, taking you to one of Boston’s finest restaurants. You were midway through the meal when there was a commotion on the other side of the restaurant. Both of you turned to see what was going on. You watched as the young woman was squealing and trying to get what looked like an engagement ring out of a champagne glass. “Awww, Matt, look how sweet that is. Can you believe it?”

 “No, no I can’t, because I literally put that ring in the champagne glass and told the waiter to deliver it after our meal. Now, what the hell am I supposed to do? Go tell her that’s not hers?”

 “Okay, but back up a for a sec, YOU DID WHAT?” Had Matt just implied that ring was for you? You glanced back over at the table, the man looked frantic, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. You swiveled your head back to Matt, waiting for an answer, his face was flushed red.

 “Umm…so like yeah. I wanted to propose tonight, but…” His hand went to the back of his neck, and he hissed out a soft, “fuck,” before getting up and grabbing the waiter. You couldn’t quite make out the whispered conversation, but the server seemed quite embarrassed that he’d gotten the wrong tray. He headed over to the other couple, apologizing profusely for the mix-up. You weren’t sure who was more uncomfortable, the waiter, the guy who wasn’t proposing, or the woman who just had her dreams crushed.

 “I’m so sorry sir. We’ll comp your meal completely.” He handed the ring back over to Matt.

 “That’s not necessary.”

 “Again, I’m so, so sorry.” He quickly hurried away before Matt could say anything more. 

 “Well, um…it’s not exactly the romantic proposal I had planned but…” He got down on one knee then. The whole restaurant now watching, after the ring debacle. “I love you, (Y/N). I think I have from the moment I saw you. I never told you this, but I ran into those boards on purpose that night. I wanted to get your attention and I’m so glad I did. You’re my everything (Y/N) and I don’t know what my life would be like without you. Will you marry me?”

 “Yes, Matt, yes!” It was barely above a whisper as you were too choked up with emotion. Matt slipped the ring on your finger, then reached up and kissed you. The whole restaurant cheering in the background. 

[quickspinner]

Beautiful Dreams - Ch 5 Reality Check

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | AO3

I’m sorry this chapter took so long but I assure you it was necessary. For updates on my in-progress stories, check my WIP Report tag. It will probably be a while before the next update to this story because I’m going to try to get the last few chapters closer to completion before I start posting again, so that we will only hopefully have one more significant delay and then the remaining chapters will come quickly.

I hope you enjoy this chapter in the meantime!

He couldn’t have asked for a better beginning. Even the fifty-three texts from Rose he had to answer when he got home couldn’t dim the smile on his face. 

Luka spent the next few days in a glow of quiet contentment, polishing his new song and texting occasionally with Marinette. She was incredibly busy during work hours, but they spoke a little bit each evening. 

Happy as he was, though, he still felt...heavy. It made him think about what Juleka had said and he began to wonder if there was more to what he was feeling than grief over his mother.

Luka could have texted but he called just for the comfort of hearing her voice and the everyday sounds of her life in the background. “Hey, Jules,” Luka said, smiling at the sound of Angie’s distant coos and Rose’s baby talk. “Can you text me Dr. Thorpe’s number? I think the one I have is out of date.”

“Yeah, sure,” Juleka replied, surprised. “Is...is everything okay? I thought...your date went okay, right? You told Rose it was good.”

She would have mocked him mercilessly if she could see the grin that broke over his face. “It went amazing,” he told her. “It’s just...I was thinking about what you said, about how I’ve been lately, and maybe there’s...maybe there’s more to how I’ve been feeling than just losing Mom, you know? You know the medication never worked for me like it did for you, but it’s been a few years. I thought maybe I could just check in with the doc and see if there’s anything new I could try. Obviously just the meditation and exercise isn’t cutting it anymore, so…can’t hurt to ask, right?” 

“Yeah...yeah, I get it. I think that’s a good call.” He heard her sigh of relief and winced slightly. “You’re still going to the support group?”

“Not as regularly, lately, but yeah, I go when I need to,” Luka told her, tapping one finger on his leg restlessly. “Hey...thanks for everything. I know I’ve made things really hard for you when they were already difficult, so...thanks for being there.” 

“Just returning the favor,” Juleka mumbled. 

“That’s not one I ever wanted paid back,” he sighed. 

“Well…” Juleka fell silent for a moment, and Luka waited for her to put her thoughts together. “Well. It’s not over yet, but you’re working on it so...it’s okay. I’m okay. I can handle it.”

“It’d be okay if you couldn’t,” Luka reminded her. “I don’t ever want to be—”

“Shut up,” Juleka bit out harshly. “Just shut up, Luka. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She sighed heavily. 

"Okay,” Luka said gently. “Okay, Jules. That’s all I needed anyway. I love you, okay?” 

“Sap,” she muttered, and then, “So the date went well?”

Luka let his head fall back and grinned at the ceiling. “The date went great. Amazing. We’re supposed to go out again soon.” He hesitated. “I was thinking,” he said slowly, “About maybe taking her to The Highlander.” 

“The Highlander? You haven’t been there in months,” Juleka said, and Luka could hear she was frowning. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Especially for a second date.”

“No,” Luka admitted, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You think it’s too soon?”

“I think maybe you should go by yourself—wait, not by yourself. I think you and I should go first. See how you handle it. It didn’t go so well last time, Luka. And you haven’t been there in ages, you know people are going to stop to talk and they’re going to want to know how you are and...it just might be hard.”

Luka pressed his lips together and sighed through his nose. “Yeah. You’re right. Maybe a little bit later.” 

“I just don’t want you to take on more than you can handle,” Juleka said, and he could hear Rose’s worried voice asking indistinct questions in the background. “Or rushing things too much and getting hurt. It might be just a quirky little Scottish pub to her but that doesn’t change what it is to us. It’s not fair to take her there like it’s just another theme bar.”

“Right,” Luka sighed. “Okay, I’m convinced. I’ll think of something else. You know I kind of hate movie dates.”

“That’s because you’re intense and nosy,” Juleka told him bluntly. “Movie dates are good, they give you something to talk about besides prying out her darkest secrets or spilling all of yours.” 

Luka rolled his eyes. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I always do,” Juleka snorted. “Someone has to keep you from getting all up in your head and being an idiot.”

“Yeah, thanks so much for that,” he grumbled, but he was smiling. 

“Luka…”

“Yeah?”

There came another gusty sigh. “I love you too.” 

Then she hung up on him. Luka rolled his eyes, but smiled a moment later when his phone dinged as her text with the number came through.

***

Luka’s good mood lasted through the week, right until the moment he opened his door to a slightly pale Louis and a stone-faced Adrien. Luka pursed his lips for a moment. Adrien didn’t say anything until Luka sent Louis into the studio with instructions to start his warmups. The room was mostly soundproof with the door closed. Luka made sure it was shut and then went back to the hall where Adrien was still standing, his expression still stiff but murder in his eyes.

“Enjoy your date?” Adrien growled. 

Luka folded his arms and leaned one shoulder against the wall. “I did. I’m hoping to take her out again sometime soon.” 

Adrien’s face twisted. “Did you fuck my wife, Couffaine?” 

Luka sighed through his nose, lips tight. “I did not sleep with your ex-wife, no,” he said slowly, looking Adrien in the eye. “I took her out, I did my best to charm the hell out of her, and I kissed her.” He straightened up off the wall and faced Adrien. “Not that it’s actually any of your business what we do together.” 

“If it gets out—”

“I don’t give a shit, Adrien,” Luka said sharply, leveling a glare at his old friend. “I don’t care about your reputation, I never have. Isn’t that why your father told you to stay away from me in the first place?”

Adrien reared back a little. “That—”

“Forget it,” Luka cut him off, holding up a hand. “Listen, I don’t hold your father against you. Not the things he said and did, and not the things he made you do. I know that none of that was your fault. But what you do and say here and now, Adrien, that’s on you, so don’t talk to me about making Marinette dance to your tune to save your reputation, or this conversation is gonna go downhill real fast. She’s single. She’s her own woman. She can date who she wants. If that’s me—” Luka shrugged. “I couldn’t care less what your investors think about it.”

“You absolute bastard.” Adrien scowled when Luka didn’t react. “How the hell can you stand there and act so calm?”

“Because I know your feelings don’t actually have anything to do with me,” Luka said softly. “You feel angry and hurt and betrayed, just like you have for the last, what, year and a half? Almost two, now, right? But deep down I don’t think you’re petty enough to want Marinette to be miserable, or to resent me for making her happy. If that’s even something she wants, by the way, which is by no means certain. It was only one date.” 

“I can’t believe you,” Adrien burst out, his hands making an abortive gesture at his sides. “You knew her for what, five minutes?”

“Don’t give me that,” Luka snapped, his arms unfolding as he gave Adrien a hard look. “I know exactly how long it took for you to find somebody else after the divorce was final, the whole world does.”

Adrien winced. “That was a mistake,” he muttered. “I was hurt, I was angry, she was the one person I thought would never leave and I just wanted—” he broke off and took a shuddering breath. 

Luka softened a little, reminding himself that this was his friend. “Look,” he sighed. “I know you’ve gone through a lot and we do stupid things when it comes to the people we love. I get it. I know that the divorce wasn’t what you wanted, I get that too. But you don’t get to decide when she’s allowed to move on. Or to whom.” He waited for a moment but Adrien said nothing, and he went on. “Look. For what it’s worth, I give you my word, I will treat her right. I’ll be careful with her and I’ll be careful with Louis. I’m trying to be as careful as I can with you, I really am.” 

“I know,” Adrien ground out. “I think it just makes it worse. I really want to hate you.”

“I know. If you don’t want to talk to me for a few weeks—or longer—I totally get it. I can start doing written reports over email for Louis. You can just drop him off and pick him up and leave without saying a word to me if you want. I mean, you can pull him out if you want to, but I don’t think either of us really wants that. He’s doing really well so far.” Luka hesitated. “I don’t want to cause him problems though so if he’s no longer comfortable with me, I’d understand.” 

Adrien took a deep breath. “We’ll see,” he said grudgingly. “I just don’t know right now. I’m not sure he’d tell us if he was uncomfortable, to be honest, and I don’t...well. Like I said, we’ll see. You’ll probably see it before either of us if he’s got a problem with you. For now, just go on, he’s waiting for you, and I really need to get out of here. I’m still mad as hell.”

Luka nodded. “Later, Adrien.”

“Asshole,” Adrien muttered as he left.

When he entered the studio, Luka wasn’t surprised to see Louis sitting tense on the piano bench, not playing. He went over and leaned against the piano instead of sitting next to him as he normally would. “Hey,” Luka smiled. “Your mom talk to you?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, staring at the keys. 

“You want to talk about it, or are you not ready yet?”

Louis glanced up at him in surprise, then seemed to think about it. “I don’t think I want to,” he said after a moment. 

“Okay. Can I sit?” Louis hesitated, and Luka added, “Or do you just want to play your feelings for a minute?” It had become part of their routine, whenever Louis seemed to need it. He still fumbled a lot, not quite comfortable with improvising, but the emotions were there and came across and that was what mattered. 

Louis nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I need that.” 

“Can I stay, or would you rather I let you get it out on your own?” 

Louis seemed to think again, and Luka was glad. At least the boy wasn’t just rejecting him outright. “You can...you can stay, I think. Maybe it’ll be easier than talking.” 

“Okay. Thanks for that. If you change your mind, let me know and I’ll go. I know this is all—” Luka sighed. “Confusing, and frustrating and maybe even hurtful. It’s okay. You just...feel what you need to feel, and play what you need to play, okay? We don’t have to talk until you’re ready, and if that’s not today, that’s okay too. There’s no rush. We can set our own pace with this.”

Louis nodded, and raised his hands over the keys. “Okay,” he said, more to himself than Luka. “Okay.”

Luka leaned back against the piano, folded his arms, and closed his eyes, tuning into the music and the boy who made it. It was all the things he’d expected. Confused, angry, hurt, sad. Luka kept his expression neutral and resisted the urge to sigh. He reminded himself that he’d known it wouldn’t be easy. There wasn’t anything he could say to make this better. 

He just had to be patient. This might have been easier if they hadn’t known each other already; he could have dated Marinette for a while until they were sure they had something serious and then met Louis. At least Luka hadn’t had to deal with every person his mother dated; she only asked him to meet the ones that mattered (though in the end, it turned out none of them had mattered that much). 

But Louis was a smart kid, he already knew something was up, and when in doubt Luka tended to err on the side of openness. In Luka’s experience, secrets almost always hurt worse. 

As he listened to Louis’ song, he was reminded of his conversation with Nicoline and the recorded performance he’d listened to when he got home. Luka had talked to Louis about performing in the recital and hadn’t gotten much more than weary acceptance. Apparently Louis was accustomed to being expected to perform whether he wanted to or not, which told Luka that, much like the younger Adrien, Louis had never performed a piece he was emotionally invested in. Luka hated that, and he didn’t want to ask Louis to perform another soulless piece, even if Louis technically picked it himself.

An idea was forming in his mind, but Luka was going to have to think carefully about it, about whether it was in Louis’ best interests or whether he was letting his own feelings, both old and new, color his judgement. He took a slow, thoughtful breath, tapping his fingers against his arm as he considered.

“Luka?” 

Luka jumped slightly, and realized Louis had stopped playing and was looking at him. “Hey, sorry, man, I had a thought and I zoned out there for a second. I got the gist, though.” He motioned towards the piano bench. “Can I sit now?”

Louis slid over immediately, but Luka didn’t move until he said, quietly. “Yes. Go ahead.” 

“Listen,” he said, “I said we don’t have to talk about anything until you’re ready and I mean that. I just want you to know that nothing that happens in this room changes. Here, it’s about the music and about helping you get to a good place with it. I know maybe it looked like I was off in my own world a bit for a second there, but it’s not because I wasn’t paying attention to you. What I was thinking about just now, that was about the music too. I just need to think about it a little more before we can talk about it, but I promise we will, okay?”

Louis nodded slowly. 

“Do you want to talk about this thing with me and your mom?” Luka asked, stroking his own fingers along the keys for a moment, and then beginning to play absently as he spoke. “Or do you want to wait a little longer? Or maybe do it somewhere that’s not here?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis mumbled. “It’s not like it matters what I think.” 

“Of course it does,” Luka said, pausing for a moment to look at him. “What you think always matters, Louis, and you deserve to be heard. So if you have something to say, you tell me so. I can’t say how much it’ll change anything, but I will always hear you and consider what you have to say, okay?”

“Yes,” Louis said after a moment. “That’s what Maman said, too.”

Luka put his hands back on the keys and began to play the turbulent waves of his own emotions, though it didn’t come as naturally to him on the piano as the guitar. “I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, because we’re two different people in different circumstances. But my parents split up when I was little, a few years younger than you, and I know how it felt when other guys started coming around my mom. So I’m not totally clueless here.” He glanced at Louis, and then went on. “I like your mom a lot, and she seems to like me pretty well so far, and it’s going to take a while to find out exactly what that means for all of us. Your mom and I, we have a lot to figure out and we’re going to take our time doing that. That’s what dating is for, you know? Getting to know each other and figuring out whether you can be good together and you want the same things out of life and relationships and whatever, and that takes time. So not a lot’s going to change overnight, okay?”

Louis nodded slowly. “That’s what she told me.” 

“Good,” Luka smiled slightly. “So that part’s between me and her and that’s stuff nobody can figure out but us. You and your mom are a package deal, though, so that means, you and I have stuff that nobody else can figure out either. That’s the good news, though, that you and I get to decide what that means, no one else. I mean, your mom and dad, they’re still your mom and dad and they’re going to make the rules for a while, and you and I, we get to just hang out and get to know each other. And if it turns out we can’t stand each other, well, obviously that’s a problem that we’re all going to have to deal with. But, so far, I think you’re a pretty cool kid, Louis.”

Louis looked up at him sharply, eyebrows soaring, breaking that polite mask into a look of incredulous doubt. “You think I’m cool,” he said in a deadpan voice. 

Luka laughed, actually pleased to see a normal kid expression on Louis’ face. “Why is that a surprise?”

“Nobody thinks I’m cool,” Louis drawled, like Luka was completely dense. “Not sure how you didn’t notice, but I’m a nerd, Luka.” 

Luka was struggling not to completely lose it. “Nerds can be cool,” he managed to say through the suppressed laughter threatening to strangle him. “So what if you’re a nerd? What’s wrong with being passionate about knowledge?” 

“But I’m—” Louis looked down at himself, at his clothes, Luka realized, and made a face. 

“Sophisticated?” Luka grinned. 

Louis gave him an exasperated look. “I look like I tripped and fell off a catalogue page.”

Luka tried not to laugh. “So what?” 

“So I am not cool,” Louis pouted, folding his arms. “I’ll never be cool.” 

“Louis,” Luka chuckled, taking his hands off the keys and turning slightly to face the boy. “The kind of cool I’m talking about isn’t about how you dress or what your hobbies are or what instrument you play.” He nodded at the piano. “It’s about being interesting and fun to be around and putting out good energy to the people around you, and you’ve got all of that. You want me to pick another word, I will, but what you call it isn’t going to change anything.” Luka cocked his head. “Do you want to be different from the way you are?”

“Well…” Louis looked thoughtful, his hand going up to rub the back of his neck in a gesture that Luka immediately recognized. “No? Or maybe...maybe sometimes. Maybe some things. I like most of it, fencing and music and...and school—” He darted a quick look at Luka.

“Nothing wrong with being good at and enjoying all those things,” Luka nodded. “But there’s other things you’d like to try?” Luka suggested. “Including maybe changing up your look?” 

Louis nodded.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Luka said, again having trouble keeping a straight face. “Trying out things is part of growing up. And if you don’t like these supposedly cool things, that doesn’t make you uncool. Uncool is going with things you don’t really like just because you’re trying to fit some image people made up.” He paused for a second, suddenly feeling both an intense sense of deja vu and like he was on dangerous ground, because this time he wasn’t a kid talking to his friend, he was an adult, an authority, talking to a child who wasn’t his own. The last thing he wanted was to upset either of Louis’ parents by encouraging him in the little kid version of a Couffaine-style rebellion, even if he felt like the kid deserved to be a kid a bit more. “If there’s something like that you want to do or try, just tell your parents so,” he said. “Or your therapist, if you don’t feel comfortable going to them right away, and she’ll help you figure out how to ask. It’s her job to help you work through hard stuff like that, right?”

Louis wrinkled his nose slightly. “I can’t tell my mom I want to change the way I dress, she’d be so upset. All the clothes I wear are her clothes.”

“You think so?” Luka asked, slightly surprised, his eyebrows raising. “You think your mom would rather you wear clothes you don’t like and don’t feel good in just to make her comfortable, instead of being honest with her and letting her help you find something you like better?” 

Louis opened his mouth and then shut it again. 

“It’s okay to want things and it’s okay to ask for the things you want,” Luka told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You might not always get them but your parents love you and I know they’ll at least talk about them with you. I might not know your mom as well as you do, but I feel pretty confident she wouldn’t want you to stay silent about something that’s bothering you just to keep from upsetting her. I might be way off base but I bet helping you figure out a look you actually like would be a fun challenge for her.” He shrugged. “Ask her and see. The worst she can say is no, right?” 

“Yeah...maybe…” Louis looked away, reaching for the keys again. He played a simple exercise, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Hey,” Luka said, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Are we cool? For now, at least?”

Louis took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah. For now.” 

“Fair enough,” Luka smiled, letting his hand fall away. “So, we still have a little time left before your dad comes back, let’s get back to the music, shall we? And from now on, anytime you want to talk to me about any of that other stuff, you can call or text. We won’t talk about it again during lessons. I meant what I said. This time is for you and the music and everything else stays outside the door, okay?” 

“Okay,” Louis gave a little smile. 

Luka felt a little encouraged by the talk, and a little relieved that once it was out of the way, they’d been able to fall back into their usual routine for lessons. Guilt descended on him though when Adrien returned to pick Louis up. Both men were nothing less than cordial in front of Louis, but the easy familiarity they’d always had was gone, and Luka was sure Louis sensed the tension between them no matter how the two adults tried to hide it. 

Luka sank back on his couch when they were gone, letting his head fall back against the back. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there just staring at the ceiling, but the sun was down when he finally got up.

***

If he’d had any second thoughts over the next few days, his second date with Marinette renewed his resolve. He took Juleka’s advice and they went to a movie, something not too intense that they could laugh and poke fun at afterwards. Marinette seemed a little more relaxed, and he teased her about her choice of snack foods and she teased him for the way he kept humming the soundtrack over and over.  

If the kisses they shared were softer and maybe a little shyer than before, they were just as sweet, and Luka couldn’t find it in him to be disappointed. They had maybe gone a bit fast for a first date, anyway. If she wanted to slow down a bit, that was fair. He came home smiling again, a little lightness in his heart that couldn’t be crowded out by all his other worries. 

Luka was humming to himself the next day as he let himself into the small cafe and waved to the owner before throwing himself down at a table by the windows and waiting for the company he expected, but who was, as usual, late.

Nicoline Sardou was a tall, angular woman with a commanding presence almost as powerful as her voice. It served her well on stage and in crowds, but she didn’t seem to know how to turn it off (or she chose not to), and being in a small space with her tended to feel overwhelming. She walked into the small cafe like the diva she was, complete with oversized sunglasses and giant, flashing chandelier earrings, and scanned the tables for him. 

Luka waved to get her attention. He saw her chin jerk when she spotted him and chuckled as he watched people practically leap out of her way as she approached. Luka had grown up with Anarka Couffaine, who’d had a different energy but just as much force behind it, and Juleka, who’d had a runway walk so fierce it made everyone in the front rows lean back every time she was on the catwalk, so he wasn’t phased by the aura of mystique she projected, and he always found it mildly entertaining to see other people react to her. 

Besides, he’d known Nicoline since university and it was hard to be intimidated by a woman he’d taken to the emergency room for a fractured coxis when she’d landed on her ass after a botched kegstand. 

“Good to see you, Nic,” he said, standing to greet her. They exchanged a bise and Nicoline squeezed his arm briefly before they sat back down.

“It’s been ages since I saw you last,” she said as they waited for the food they’d ordered. “You’ve barely even been answering my texts.”

Luka sighed and tried to smile. “I’m really sorry about that. I’m trying to be better.”

“You look better,” Nicoline said, tilting her head slightly. “Not so...sleepy. Are you resting better?”

“Sometimes,” Luka shrugged, but he didn’t really want to talk about it just then, even with someone he’d known as long as Nic. “So, Spring Recital,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I know I haven’t been as engaged as I should and I’m sorry. Can you bring me up to speed on where we’re at?”

“Right,” Nicoline said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a folder, setting things out on the table between them. “I’ve reserved our usual venue and my students have chosen their pieces. Here’s the ones I need backup for.” She slid a list across the table, and then tapped one painted nail on a name. “This is the one I wanted to talk to you about. She’s really good, Luka, probably one of my favorite students I’ve ever taught. I want her to do the showcase piece, but if you don’t have any students who can match up to her, I’d rather use canned music.” 

Luka gave a thoughtful hum, looking at the name and the piece listed next to it. “Do you have—” Nicoline was pushing a CD across the table to him before he even finished speaking. Luka quirked an eyebrow at the choice of medium but picked it up and set it next to him on the table. 

“She’s track six,” Nicoline told him. “You’ll know her when you hear her. I was thinking maybe piano and guitar? Maybe drums if you can keep them from being too heavy.

Luka nodded. “I’ll listen to her and see who I’ve got that matches her style. I’m not going to pressure anyone into it though, Nicoline, you know I don’t believe in that.”

Nicoline waved that away; it was an old argument. Their teaching styles were as different as their personalities, and when they’d first gotten the idea to have Nicoline’s vocal students pair with Luka’s instrumentalists and collaborate on a few recital pieces, it had seemed almost crazy. Luka had always managed to match up groups that worked, though, and he was of the opinion that the students worked a little harder when someone else was counting on them. 

“Just let me know once you’ve got an arrangement put together,” Nic said, “And we can work out a rehearsal schedule.” 

“Who else is on board for the recital?” Luka asked, and they spent the rest of the lunch gossiping about their colleagues. Luka was sadly out of date on the news and he cringed a little as Nicoline related the latest drama to him. He should definitely touch base with some people.

“You want to come home with me?” Nicoline asked as she stirred her drink. “You look better but still like you could stand to lose a little tension.” She offered him a little smile. “And I missed you.” 

Luka shook his head and he could feel his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile too broadly. “I’m actually seeing somebody at the moment.”

“Oooh,” Nicoline raised her eyebrows, a sly grin of her own spreading over her face. “Is it serious?”

“It’s new,” Luka said, avoiding her gaze as he poked at his food, still smiling. “But yeah, it’s pretty serious. For me, anyway. It’s...things are...well—” He bit his lip to stop the fumbling, and shrugged just slightly. “She’s got baggage. And it’s not like I’m exactly rock steady myself right now. So...I think it’s gonna go slow....” He caught Nicoline’s look and grinned sheepishly. “Slow-ish,” he amended. “But…” That smile was trying to break through again. “But I think it’ll be worth it.” 

“Worth it, like, the one worth it?”

Luka made a noncommittal noise but he still couldn’t look her in the face.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Nicoline said, eyes narrowed, and he felt all the force of her personality on him in that moment. “Spill.” 

“Her son is one of my students,” Luka admitted, leaning his chin on his fist.

It was almost comical, how fast Nic’s eyes flew open. She leaned forward slightly. “You’re dating a client?”

“Technically, no,” Luka mumbled. “Technically, her ex-husband is my client.” 

Nicoline didn’t answer for a moment and he flicked his eyes up at her.

“Luka,” Nicoline sighed, shaking her head. “You never do things the simple way.” 

“Never,” he agreed, sitting up straight. “It’s a Couffaine thing.”

Nicoline checked the time on her phone. “I’ve got five minutes. Spill.”

Luka snorted, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “No.” He grinned to himself as he counted out the money, watching Nicoline’s mouth drop open in surprise and outrage, and then he stood up and dropped his cash on the table. “See you later, Nic. I’ll be in touch about the group.” He waved the CD at her and turned away, chuckling to himself as he left the cafe.

***

A week later, Luka was looking forward to his third date with Marinette with the same excitement and anticipation fizzing in his veins, but he knew something was wrong as soon as they met up. Marinette was tense, and she couldn’t seem to look at him for very long—but she couldn’t seem to stop looking at him, either. She kept shooting him quick, darting glances that skittered away before he could meet them. He reached for her hand and she let him take it, but her grip in return was weak and he thought maybe she was shaking. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, when there was a lull in the sidewalk traffic that gave them a quiet moment.

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled up at him, and her hold on his hand got a little tighter. “It’s good.” 

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly as her gaze shifted away again. “Marinette,” he said, letting go of her hand to put his on her shoulder. “Please.” 

“It’s nothing, really, just something I wanted to talk about, but it can wait until we’re settled somewhere. It’s not, um...nothing earth shattering, I promise. I think.”

That was less reassuring than she had probably intended, but Luka did his best to cover his concern until they got to the restaurant they had agreed on. 

They ordered food and tried to chat, but Marinette was distracted and Luka was worried, and they couldn’t seem to keep a topic going. 

“Marinette,” Luka sighed finally, pushing his plate aside to take her hand. “Please just tell me what’s on your mind? Let’s just...deal with whatever it is, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said quickly, her fingers curling tight around his. “I didn’t want to ruin everything, and now I am and—”

“Marinette,” Luka interrupted, “Please. Just tell me.” 

She winced a little at his tone, and he regretted it, but the flightier she acted the more he began to fear the worst. “I just,” she hesitated, and Luka’s worry increased. “I guess I just wanted to know if we’re, um, exclusive? Or are we...not allowed but...I mean are we…” 

Okay, he told himself, that...wasn’t as bad as it could have been. “Do you want to be?” Luka asked, trying to keep his tone neutral. 

“Well I—” Marinette began, and then she looked down, fiddling with her napkin. “It’s just, someone else asked me out, and I realized I didn’t know, um, where you stood on us dating other people besides each other.” She glanced up at him and away, and Luka picked up his drink to give himself something to do while he tried to gather the wits her simple question had just scattered to the wind.

“Well,” he said slowly as he set his glass down. “We’ve only seen each other a few times. I think things are going really well and I hope that will continue, but if you want to see other people too, I wouldn’t feel right telling you not to.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Honestly, it pains me to say this, you probably should, Marinette, if you want to even a little bit. It might be good for you. I don’t want you to have any doubts or regrets.”

“I just can’t help but think...I never really dated anyone but Adrien before, and…” 

“Of course,” Luka nodded, and took her hand. “That makes total sense. So if you want to try going out with some other people, then I’m not going to stand in the way of that. I won’t say I really like it, but I understand.” He gave her a lopsided smile that he hoped didn’t betray him too badly and gave her a quick wink. “I’ll just have to step up my game, that’s all.” 

She squeaked and reached quickly for her water glass, and Luka chuckled in spite of himself. 

He tried to act as normal as he could for the rest of the date, but he knew he was quieter than he had been. He clung to her hand a little tighter, but kept his distance more than he had before, suddenly unsure of himself in a way he wasn’t really accustomed to. Luka couldn’t help feeling like he’d been misreading something, getting more invested than was justified, and all he could do was hold it together as best he could until he could get home and think. 

Their kiss goodnight was soft and sweet and he lingered over it longer than he probably should have, but it was reserved, too, in a way it hadn’t been before now, at least on his part. 

“Luka, is...are you really, okay with what we talked about?” Marinette asked him, her eyes tight.

Luka sighed. Clearly he hadn’t fooled her at all. “In my head, yeah,” he said, looking down at their fingers tangled together. “I know this is the right thing to do and I genuinely want you to be with me because you want to, and not because you just felt like you couldn’t explore other options. At the same time, I’m really into you and my heart and my gut might be having a harder time with it, that’s all. I’ll deal with it.” 

Marinette’s brow creased slightly and she frowned. “If you’re not really okay with this...I really like you too, Luka, and I don’t want to—” 

Luka smiled faintly. “I want you to be happy, Marinette. When you are ready for something more serious, I don’t want you to have any doubts. Figure out what you need, and do it, okay? Thank you for being honest with me about it.” He lifted her hand and stroked his thumb along the ladybug tattoo. “Just...keep me posted? On where we stand.” He hesitated. “Do you still want to go out again next week?”

“Yes,” Marinette said firmly, squeezing his hand. “Definitely.” She tugged him forward a little, and he stepped closer. “Luka, this doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you. I like this, I like what we have. I like you. A lot. And this is definitely not me liking you less as time goes on.” She blushed, dropping her eyes for just a moment before she looked back up at him. “It’s just, it’s like you said. I don’t want to have any doubts. I had such tunnel vision, with...before, and look how it turned out.” Marinette sighed, her brow creasing slightly. “I feel like that could happen again really easily...with you, so…” She bit her lip, eyes searching his face. “But now I’m scared of ruining what we have. Maybe I shouldn’t—what are you doing?” 

Luka drew her close, hands sliding from her waist to the small of her back as he dipped his head towards her. 

“If I’m going to have some competition, I want to make sure I leave an impression,” he breathed, lips brushing hers. “Is that okay?” 

He felt her lips move but no sound came out. “Marinette?” 

She managed to make a noise of assent and nod slightly, and Luka kissed her softly, once, twice, and then more firmly, tasting her with light brushes of his tongue as he coaxed her lips open. Luka kissed her as thoroughly as he knew how, focused on her reactions, intending to do exactly as he said, but also to fill himself with the taste, the feel of her, the sound of her soft noises in his ears, to burn it into his mind against the day when he might have to give it up. Marinette’s fingers curled into his coat and she whimpered softly. He let her turn her head away to gasp for air but pressed his lips into her jaw, and then her neck, and when she gasped his name it was shaky and breathless in a way that made him shiver, but it also held a note of warning that he couldn’t ignore. Luka nuzzled her neck one more time, breathing her in, and pulled back, placing one more soft kiss on her lips before he straightened.  

“Too much?” he asked quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

Marinette shook her head, her cheeks bright pink. “It was a lot, but...not too much. Not from you.” 

That brought the most genuine smile he’d had all evening to his face. “I should go. I’ll text you about next week?” 

Marinette nodded, and rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Luka.”

“Goodnight, Marinette.”

Luka rode the subway home in a haze of confused, upset feelings. When he got home he kicked off his shoes and tossed away his jacket, pulling off his shirt on the way to his bedroom. He fell face down onto the bed, his phone gripped tightly in one hand, the edges of it digging into his palm. 

He raised it up and turned his head enough to peek at the time, and then he buried his face in the mattress again. It was late. Juleka would answer, even if she was sleeping, but he couldn’t do that to her. He took a deep breath and rolled over. He unlocked his phone, thumb hovering over Juleka’s number, and then Nicoline’s. She would be awake, but...he didn’t think Nicoline’s brand of support was what he needed right then. He switched to his music app and turned it on, dialing the volume up as high as it would go before setting the phone in the charging dock on his nightstand. He shimmied out of his pants and under the covers, and then curled up, counting the beats of the music and praying for sleep. 

***

It took Luka a few days to get his head together again after the bomb Marinette had dropped on him. He felt stupid, and frustrated, and disappointed (and irrationally angry at Juleka for being right), but he was determined not to let it bring him back down. He wasn’t sure if Marinette had talked to Louis about her intention to date other people. Louis didn’t bring it up at his lesson, so Luka let it lie, figuring it wasn’t his business to mention it if Louis didn’t. 

He felt a little bit better when Marinette called and asked him to go to a concert with her. The musician was a client and had given Marinette tickets, and she thought of him, so if he wasn’t busy, although it wasn’t really his style of music and maybe he wouldn’t be interested, but if he was, she really would rather go with him than anyone else, and— 

Luka was laughing by the time she paused long enough for him to accept her offer, and teased her about implying he was a music snob, and eventually she recovered from her spluttering to tease him back, and by the time Luka hung up the phone he was smiling. She thought of him, she invited him, and that was enough to help him find his resolve, and determine to put truth to what he’d said to her about stepping up his game. 

He focused his mind back on his work, and work found him sitting in a boring little bar in a neighborhood full of high rise office complexes. 

Luka had taken his time with this decision—almost too much time, if he wanted the kids to be ready in time, but he still tapped his fingers nervously on the table while he waited. It wasn’t a particularly ritzy bar, but Luka felt very out of place in this crowd. It wasn’t his normal hour to be out and the place was full of businessmen getting off work for the day.

Luka didn’t actually have to be here. Technically, he could have had this conversation over the phone, or even over email, but he wanted to do it in person. Luka wasn’t sure if he was in for an argument or not but he’d get a better read of the situation face to face. 

He was expecting it to be...awkward, though, after their last conversation. 

“So much for  you don’t have to talk to me for a while,” Adrien grumbled, dropping into the chair across from Luka.

It had been several weeks, but Luka could understand that it probably didn’t seem like long enough to Adrien. “I’ll be quick,” Luka said, leaning his elbows on the table. “Drink? On me.”

“God yes.” Adrien flagged down a server and ordered a drink that made Luka raise his eyebrows slightly. “It’s the end of the work day and I’m not driving,” Adrien defended himself, and Luka shrugged.

“Just not the kind of thing you usually drink,” he commented, voice carefully neutral. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since we got a drink together,” Adrien snorted as the server returned and tapped the glass down in front of him. Luka was mildly amused at the prompt service; Adrien’s rich guy vibe was palpable, apparently. Or maybe he was a regular here, since it was near the office. “Now what do you want?” Adrien demanded, picking up his drink.

“I wanted to ask,” Luka said, curling his fingers in as he realized they were still drumming on the table, “If you’re still on that whole ‘Agrestes are soloists,’ thing your dad was so dead set on.” 

Adrien’s expression didn’t change other than the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because an opportunity has come up for Louis—”

“No,” Adrien interrupted, putting his glass down. “No way. Marinette and I agreed before he was born, no opportunities until—”

“Let me finish,” Luka broke in, raising his hands slightly, and Adrien pressed his lips together. “Sorry,” Luka continued. “I forgot that might be a loaded word for you. Not that kind of opportunity, not a money-making type thing. Just, a chance to play as part of a group in the Spring Concert. I have a colleague looking for a group to back one of her singers. I’ve got a few students in mind and I think Louis would be a good fit for them. But before I even brought it up to him, I wanted to run it by you. I don’t want to get him excited about something you might not approve of.”

“As if you ever cared about anyone’s approval,” Adrien snorted, and Luka shrugged.

“It’s different when you’re working with kids,” Luka pointed out. “I don’t make decisions about what’s right for other people’s children. I’m just his teacher. You're his father.” At Adrien’s sharp look, he added, “That won’t change no matter what happens between me and Marinette. You’ll always be his father.” 

“I know that,” Adrien growled, picking up his drink and hiding behind it. Luka fought the urge to roll his eyes. After a minute, Adrien put the glass down with a little more force than necessary. “I’m not my father,” he said bitterly. 

Luka raised his eyebrows. “I know that,” he echoed.

“Do you?” Adrien sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Does anybody?” 

“Do you?” Luka asked, before he could think better of it, and stiffened slightly when Adrien’s eyes narrowed at him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Look, Adrien, I—” 

“Don’t,” Adrien snapped. “Just don’t, Luka. I know you lost your mom unexpectedly too and all, but don’t try to tell me you understand.” He turned his face away, blinking rapidly as he took a large swallow of his drink. 

“Okay,” Luka said softly, looking at the table and turning his glass absently. “I won’t. I don’t.” He closed his lips on whatever else he wanted to say. At least you got to bury a body, he thought bitterly, but he knew that was unfair. Luka had always had very black and white feelings about Adrien’s relationship with his father, and he was beginning to suspect Marinette did also, but Adrien had never been able to see it that way and had ignored or resented any suggestion that he really didn’t owe his father the kind of loyalty he’d been trained to show. Adrien had spent his whole life waiting for...something. Some kind of catharsis. Some acknowledgement from his father. Some kind of confrontation that would end with a hug and an apology and the snooty rich person equivalent of “you did good son.” 

It was never going to happen, even while Gabriel was alive, but there wasn’t even the remotest hope of it now that he was gone. And now it was all tangled into some vague wish of following the path his father would have wanted like the good son that he was. The good son Gabriel had never acknowledged him to be. 

It was sad. It was also, Luka couldn’t help feeling, raised to independence and free will as he had been, a little pathetic.

It was maybe a little easy for Luka to say, though, just like it was easy for Adrien to feel like Luka’s pain was less because Luka had been close to his mother and always knew where he stood with her. 

Luka shoved aside uncharitable thoughts about how little difference there was in Gabriel’s presence in Adrien’s life whether he was dead or alive, and how much one could possibly miss someone who had never bothered to be there in the first place, and wrenched his mind back to the issue at hand. 

“Look,” he sighed, “If you’re not completely opposed to the idea, just think about it and call me before Louis’ next lesson. I think it would be good for him to play with other kids, to have a chance to interpret a piece of music into something he’s excited about playing and performing, start seeing music as a way to connect with people, but like I said, I’m not even going to bring it up if it’s not something you’re going to be on board with.” 

Adrien looked at him with an expression Luka couldn’t quite parse. “Did you ask Marinette?” 

Luka shook his head. Adrien might not believe it but Luka had no desire to cause problems between the two of them. He wasn’t sure how Adrien would react to the proposition, but he had a pretty good idea how Marinette would react if she found out Adrien had kept Louis from doing something because Gabriel Agreste wouldn’t have liked it. Luka had no interest in provoking that fight—at least not right now. 

Adrien looked away and said nothing for a long moment. “I heard,” he said finally, still not looking at Luka, “I heard Marinette’s going out with one of the accounting consultants this weekend.” He glanced at Luka. “Office gossip, you know. And Nino let slip that she was seeing someone else last week.” 

Luka just looked back at him, careful to show no reaction. Whoever else she was seeing, Marinette was still making time to go out with him pretty consistently, but that wasn’t really Adrien’s business. Just like it was none of Luka’s business, for the moment, who she was seeing besides him. He half expected Adrien to make some kind of crack at his expense, but Adrien just shook his head, getting up from the table. 

“If Louis wants to do it that’s fine with me,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “I’m not my father, and Louis isn’t me. And…” He hesitated, pulling some money out of his wallet and dropping it on the table. “I brought him to you for a reason,” he said finally. “If you think it would be good for him then I trust your judgement. He’ll have plenty of chances for solos in the future, I’m sure,” he added, almost to himself.

Luka rolled his eyes, though he had no doubt Adrien was right. He kept his mouth shut, though, as Adrien made his way out of the bar. Luka paid the tab and left, leaving Adrien’s money on the table. 

When he got home, he sat down at his table and took out his phone. He stared at it for a moment, and then dialed Marinette’s number. He half expected voicemail, but just before it would have clicked over, the call went active, and there was a sudden thud and crash and “Oh shit!”

Luka was laughing when Marinette finally came on the line with a breathless, “Hi Luka!” that made his heart flutter.

“Hi Marinette,” he chuckled. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, still panting. “Just, um, I almost didn’t hear it, and then I tripped, and when I went to grab it I knocked it off my work table, and—um, anyway you called so…” 

“I did,” Luka smiled, “And I would have called back. You didn’t have to half kill yourself to get to the phone.” 

“Well, I...it might have been important!” He could almost imagine the way she blushed and pouted as she said it. 

“Is this an okay time?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair and trying to collect his thoughts. “I just wanted to run something by you about Louis.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said, and Luka might have imagined it but he thought she sounded disappointed. “Okay. Y-yeah, now’s fine. What’s going on?”

Luka explained, unsurprised when Marinette asked quite a few more questions than Adrien. 

“Well, it sounds fine to me,” Marinette said at last. “I’m not a musician and you’re his teacher, so if you think he’s up to it and that it will help him, I’m happy for him to play with the group.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure how Adrien will feel about it though.” 

“I already talked to Adrien,” Luka admitted. “I know that was kind of a thing with his dad—it’s why he pulled him out of the band, or so he said at the time, so I wanted to get a read on where Adrien stood. He said he was okay with it as long as Louis wanted to do it.” 

“Oh,” Marinette sighed. “That’s a relief. I mean, he loves Louis and he always has Louis’ best wishes at heart, but—” She cut off and sighed. 

“But he was brainwashed for twenty-five years by his asshole father and sometimes his sense of reality is warped by his incomprehensible loyalty to the man’s memory?” Luka suggested sardonically. 

“At least someone can say it,” Marinette laughed, sounding a little guilty as she did. “But...yeah, basically. I’m glad to hear he didn’t put up a fuss. Thanks for, um...thanks for talking to him about it. I could have, but—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Luka shrugged. “It’s my job. Okay, if both of you are on board then I’ll talk to Louis about it at our next lesson.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Marinette agreed, and a slightly awkward pause ensued. Luka was opening his mouth to tell her goodbye when she suddenly said in a rush, “So, um...how was your day?” 

Luka blinked, and then smiled, tracing the pattern of the wood grain on his table with his finger. “It wasn’t bad. I have a kid that’s been struggling with a piece and she really made a breakthrough today, and that’s always nice. How was yours? Or should I say, how is yours, are you still at work?”

“Yes and no,” Marinette replied, and there was some noise on the other end of the line, like she was moving things around. “I’m not at work, but I’m working in my home office. Louis is with Adrien tonight, you know, so I thought I’d get some work done, because I’m a little behind after all the chaos earlier.”

“Rough day up until now, huh?” 

“Crazy,” Marinette groaned. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to deal with this morning…” 

Luka smiled, settling back in his chair as Marinette began to rant in extremely entertaining terms about some mix up that had happened on the production floor that day. It reminded him of something that had happened on the boat years ago, and they chatted back and forth until Marinette yawned and Luka suddenly realized he was starving. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Marinette gasped. “I didn’t mean to keep you so long—I didn’t realize it was so late.” 

“Me neither,” Luka chuckled. “But I don’t mind.” 

“You’re so easy to talk to,” Marinette sighed. “I wish…”

“You wish what?” Luka asked, when she didn’t continue, his pulse picking up a little.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, and Luka suspected from the tone of her voice that she was blushing. “Never mind.”

“Hey, do you maybe want to grab coffee tomorrow?” Luka asked on impulse. “I’ve got students in the afternoon, but in the morning—” 

“I can’t,” Marinette nearly whined, and Luka bit down on a smile that wanted to become a laugh. “I’d really love to, but I can’t. I have um—plans already. For brunch.” She sighed like she was genuinely disappointed.  

“Okay,” he said, smile fading slightly. “Some other time then.”

“Yeah,” Marinette said unhappily. “Some other time. Soon.” 

“Soon, for sure,” Luka said quickly, the smile coming back a bit. “Goodnight, Marinette.” 

“Goodnight, Luka,” Marinette sighed, and though he preferred hearing her happy, it gave him a little flutter that she seemed so reluctant to say it. 

***

“Hey, man,” Luka grinned, crouching down to get a better look at Louis. “Spiderman, I like it.” He indicated the shirt under Louis’ button-down. Instead of his usual green Gabriel brand t-shirt, he sported black t-shirt with a red spiderman emblem on his chest. Louis grinned broadly and shrugged, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

“Really?” he asked shyly. 

“Yeah,” Luka nodded. “That’s from the new movie, right? The animated one?”

“Yeah,” Louis lit up. “It’s sooooo good!” He paused. “It’s not exactly new, though. It’s been out on Blu-Ray for a while already.” 

“Man, I’m so out of touch,” Luka sighed with a lopsided smile. “The soundtrack is killer, I just never made the time to actually watch the movie. I didn’t realize it had been so long.” He leaned forward a little. “Your mom didn’t give you too much grief right? Do I need to talk to her?” He glanced up over Louis’ shoulder and winked at Marinette.

“Nah, my mom’s the best,” Louis beamed, looking back at her. Marinette blushed, and Luka coughed to cover a laugh. 

“All right, go on back,” Luka told Louis, squeezing his shoulder as he stood up. “Warm up while we wait, the others should be here soon.” 

“Okay!” Louis went around him, heading for the music room. 

Luka looked back at Marinette, who was shaking her head at him. 

“Charmer,” she accused, and Luka grinned, spreading his hands. 

“I’m only charming because I’m honest.” 

“And cute,” Marinette wrinkled her nose at him. 

“Guilty,” Luka winked. “But don’t tempt me while I’m on the clock. I’m still a professional here.”

“Right,” Marinette said, reaching up to smooth her hair as she blushed. “Sorry.” She shuffled back a step, but didn’t turn to go. For a moment they just looked at each other, neither sure what to say. Piano music floated down the hallway; Louis hadn’t shut the studio door, and Luka laughed to himself as he recognized the tune of What’s Up Danger. “Wonder where he found piano music for that,” he murmured to himself, and Marinette giggled. 

“The internet, probably. He’s pretty resourceful when he wants to be. Or maybe Adrien helped him find it.” She shook her head. “I should be mad at you,” she said, poking him lightly. “You could have warned me. About the whole ‘new look’ thing.”

“Ah, I probably should have,” Luka sighed, dropping his head back. “Sorry. I forgot. I don’t know, though, maybe it’s better this way. That he talked to you about it himself. Sorry if he blindsided you, though.” 

Marinette shrugged. “It was a surprise, but it shouldn’t have been. He’s getting old enough to have opinions of his own on that kind of thing. I’m just happy he’s still willing to work with me on it. I don’t mind designing something more to his taste but I’d be pretty depressed if he refused to wear anything I made.” 

“Why would he do that?” Luka grinned. “His mom’s the best.”

Marinette blushed again and put a hand over her face. “Stoooop,” she whined, and Luka chuckled. 

“Yeah, I better.”

A familiar pattern knocked on the door before Marinette could answer, and Marinette stepped aside so Luka could open it. 

“JP,” Luka grinned, greeting the boy standing there with a complicated high-five hand-shake fist bump. He raised a hand and waved to JP’s aunt, who waved back out of the car window before driving off, swerving around the town car still waiting for Marinette at the curb. 

“I should—I should go,” Marinette said, squeezing past him and backing down the walk. “I’ll be back to pick up Louis later. Obviously.” Luka caught her arm and she blinked up at him.

“Step,” he reminded her with a lopsided smile, and she flushed as she took the small step down before pulling her arm away. “See you later,” he said, and she turned and waved awkwardly. Luka lingered on the doorstep, watching her get back in the car. 

A cough by his elbow wiped the goofy smile off his face. Luka looked down and saw JP looking back at him with raised eyebrows. “Inside, punk, come on,” Luka muttered, shoving at the kids shoulder, and JP snickered as he went past him. 

“Louis,” Luka called as they neared the studio, and the piano music stopped. “This is Jean-Paul Locke.”

“Louis Agreste,” Louis said formally, getting up from the piano bench and holding his hand out. JP gave Luka a look that asked, ‘Is this guy for real?’ but at Luka’s nod, he reached forward and shook Louis’ hand.

“Call me JP,” he said—mumbled, really, keeping his head down. Then he glanced up and smiled a little. “I like your shirt.”  

“Thanks,” Louis grinned. “I like your shoes.” 

JP grinned back, shuffling his graffitied kicks. “Thanks.”

“Get plugged in and tune up, JP,” Luka said, and JP let the guitar case he was carrying slide off his back. “I want you guys to listen to something.” 

He got out the CD Nicoline had given him and put it in the player, watching the boys out of the corner of his eye. JP was a couple of years older than Louis, and while Luka had a complicated relationship with the word ‘prodigy,’ it fit more than it didn’t. Luka tried not to have favorite students, but JP was...a kindred spirit. He might struggle more than Louis with the technical part of making music, but Luka had never heard him play anything that didn’t come from his heart. He made everything he played his own, and Luka felt Louis had the same potential. He was hoping JP’s example would help Louis connect with his own music. 

When JP looked up from his guitar, Luka started the music. 

Nicoline hadn’t been lying about how good her student was. Her voice was clear and powerful, though still not quite mature, but she had that something that just hit you in the gut. Luka agreed with Nic, she was the real deal, and when he looked at the boys, he had to smile. Louis’ eyes were round, and JP looked impressed. 

“Shit,” commented JP, when the music ended. Louis’ mouth dropped open and he turned to stare at the older boy. Luka sighed and smacked the back of JP’s head on his way to shut off the player. 

“Come on, man, don’t make me be the swear police,” Luka admonished, and JP hunched slightly. 

“Sorry. Just. Pretty nice pipes, that’s all.” 

Luka hummed agreement, hooking a rolling stool with his foot and pulling it underneath him so he could sit and face the boys. “So, that’s the assignment. I want you guys to back Dez in the Spring Concert, if you’re up for it.” 

“Dez?” JP snickered, and Luka rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Jean-Paul,” Luka said, with a pointed look and JP made a face. “So,” he continued. “Let’s see what you guys can do together.”

Louis and JP looked at each other, and back at Luka, and he just grinned. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, leaning back on his stool and waving towards the piano. “Play.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Whatever you want. Just jam together for a bit.” 

“But…” Louis began, looking between Luka and JP. 

“Talk about it,” Luka encouraged. “Work it out. Or, you know, one of you can just start playing and the other one can join in. Go for it.” 

The boys just stood there, and finally JP rubbed a hand through his spiked hair. “You, um. You know Fallout Boy?” 

Louis perked up. “Like, Big Hero 6?” He went to the piano and played a section of Immortals. Luka brought up a hand to rub his chin, covering his smile. 

“Wow, you’re kind of a nerd, huh?” JP chuckled, but he went and perched on the piano bench, kicking his amp cord out of the way. “Sweet. Keep going, but pick up the tempo a bit.” He began tapping a rhythm out on the floor with his foot, and Louis increased his pace to match it. “Yeah, yeah,” JP muttered, bobbing his head, and his fingers began to move on the guitar. Louis looked at him, mouth dropping open slightly, and missed a note. Flushing at the mistake, he turned quickly back to his own playing. 

Luka let the boys have fun for a little while, and then gave them the music they would actually be using for the spring concert, explaining that he wanted the boys to learn it as written first, and then they could talk about any changes or creative flairs they wanted to try. 

JP’s aunt was there on the dot to pick him up, and he said goodbye to Louis with an easy grin, swatting Louis’ offered handshake away in favor of a fist bump. Louis was still at the piano when Marinette arrived a few minutes later. He jumped up from the bench, ran two steps, then remembered himself and did sort of an awkward power-walk to the door. “Come on, Maman, I gotta go home and practice some more!” he said, the written music held tightly in his hand. He remembered Luka and paused just long enough to say goodbye before opening the door himself and speeding towards the car.

“He looks really excited,” Marinette giggled, following him out of the door a few steps. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty exciting, the first time you play with somebody you really vibe with,” Luka chuckled, leaning on the door frame. “Good, that’s what we want to see. Now I just gotta find them a drummer.” His thoughts wandered for a moment as he considered the possibilities, and when he focused on Marinette again she was smiling at him with a soft look in her eyes that made him swallow. “Can I call you later?” he asked impulsively, and she blinked back to reality, cheeks tinting pink when she realized what he’d said. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she replied, and looked like she might have said more, but Louis was suddenly hanging out of the car window, yelling for her to hurry up. Marinette’s lips pursed in a frustrated (but cute) pout. “Rude,” she called back to Louis, who rolled his eyes and popped back in the window. It was more like a kid than Luka had ever seen him act and he couldn’t help laughing, which caused Marinette to turn that pout on him. 

Luka entertained a brief fantasy of completely grossing Louis out by kissing her stupid right there on the step, but instead he said quickly. “You better go. I’ll call you later. Bye, Marinette.” 

He stepped back inside, barely managing to wait for her soft, “Bye, Luka,” and for her to walk back to the car before he shut the door and scrubbed his hands over his face with a sigh. They were supposed to go out again the following week, and he really wasn’t sure he could wait that long. 

***

A few nights later, he was about to go to bed when someone knocked, loudly, on his front door. Frowning, Luka went to open it, thinking perhaps a neighbor had gotten locked out or something. 

He had the barest instant to take in Marinette standing on his doorstep, styled and made up and wearing a distractingly well-fitting black dress and a distressed expression, before she burst out, “I don’t want to see anybody else.” She stood there, shifting from foot to foot and breathing fast, and for a moment Luka could only stare, blinking stupidly, and Marinette opened her mouth to speak again, but he held up a hand and stopped her, stepping back and motioning her inside.

Marinette swallowed whatever she’d been about to say and stepped inside. Luka closed the door behind her and took her hands, drawing her further inside so they weren’t standing in the echoing hallway. “Okay,” he said, squeezing her hands. “What’s going on?” 

“I just, um...I had a date tonight and…” 

“Did he hurt you?” Luka demanded, face darkening. 

Marinette’s eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. “No! No, no, of course that’d be the first thing you asked with me showing up like this and—No, I promise it was nothing like that, it was fine, actually, it was all fine—good, even, but...I just…” Marinette shrugged helplessly. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing lightly. 

To his surprise she took a step forward and slipped her arms around him and squeezed tight, pressing her face into his shoulder. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It is now.” 

Luka was still extremely confused, but he put his arms around her and held her until she squirmed to get free, pulling away from him. He let her go and she took a step back and a deep, shuddering breath, and then put her hands out to him. Luka wrapped his own around them, rubbing the backs lightly with his thumbs, and waited. 

“This was maybe the...fourth guy I’ve gone out with?” Marinette frowned in thought. “Something like that. And...they’ve all been fine. It’s like you said, you know, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I had fun, mostly, but…” She flushed suddenly and bit her lip, looking away. Luka squeezed her hands gently. 

“I kept thinking how much more fun I’d be having if I was with you,” she said finally, quietly. “Even tonight, this guy, it was our third date, and he was nice enough, just...he wasn’t you, and when he tried to kiss me, I just...I didn’t want to. And then I got in the cab to go home and instead I came here.” She took a deep breath and looked up into his face. “I know you said I should date other people—” 

“Only if that was what you wanted,” Luka broke in, squeezing her hands a little tighter, trying not to show how his own heart had begun racing, the fluttery feeling in his belly.

“It’s not. I don’t want to, Luka. I just...I just want to b-be with you,” she stammered a bit, turning red again. “I, um, oh, shit, ” she hissed, stamping her foot and looking away from him, and Luka had to bite his lip to contain the laughter that wanted to burst from him. 

“Take your time,” he said, not entirely without chuckling. 

“I don’t want to date anybody else,” Marinette said, looking up to his face and suddenly looking very calm. “I just want to see where this takes us. I don’t want to have plans when you ask me to get coffee. Well, what I mean is, I don’t want to waste time I could be spending with you with someone else.” She paused, and then added in a rush, “And I really want you to be the one kissing me.” 

Luka nodded slowly, a smile growing on his face. “I’m cool with all of that,” he said, and then added, “More than cool. I’m really happy, Marinette.” 

“So, we can, um, be a couple?” she dropped her gaze, but he could see her smile. “Um, exclusively?” 

“We can be whatever you want,” he said, letting go of her hand to brush his thumb along her cheek. She looked up again and his thumb brushed her lower lip, sending a jolt through him. “I’m good with whatever label you want to put on us,” he continued, a little roughly, and he had to clear his throat. “I didn’t want to say it at the time because—well, I’ve been told I can get a little intense and I didn’t want to freak you out, but I was never planning on dating anybody else. I’m in this to the end, whatever that turns out to be. I want to be the one kissing you, for as long as you’ll let me.” He took a breath. “Was that too much?” 

“No,” Marinette murmured, her free hand coming up to curl around his wrist. “You are intense, that’s true, but...I like it. I like it a lot, Luka. I always appreciate how patient and careful you are with me but I think there’s something you need to understand about me.” She took a step forward and leaned gently into him. “I overthink things a lot, and sometimes I get nervous and run off at the mouth, and I definitely have some issues around relationships and intimacy, but...I’m not fragile. I can handle you. If it gets too much, I’ll tell you, but...I’m not really worried. Not about that, at least.” She sighed and slid her arms around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Now I left the taxi waiting, so can you walk me to the door and then I can get my goodnight kiss from the man I really wanted it from? From...my boyfriend?” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “That sounds so...high school.” 

“I like it,” Luka said roughly, pressing his forehead to hers. “I like it a lot.” 

“Then it’ll do,” she whispered, and then slid her hands to his shoulders. “Now walk me to the door because if I kiss you here I’ll never make it home.”

“That’s a problem?” Luka only half joked as she took his hands again and tugged him along. “Hey, who’s walking who here?” 

“You weren’t moving,” she giggled. 

“Why would I want you to leave?” he teased. 

“Mm, so I can go brag to everybody about my hot new boyfriend?” Marinette leaned back against the door, pulling him closer with a double handful of his t-shirt. 

“Now that really does sound like high school,” Luka laughed, bracing one hand against the door as he leaned over her. Marinette tipped her head up, and he kissed those red lips, reveling in the way she sighed and pressed into him, in her lush, full lips, the smooth softness of her cheek and neck under his rough fingers as his thumb traced the elegant line of her jaw. Then her lips parted under his and she reached up and laced her fingers behind his neck, pulling him down into her, and she shifted her weight off the door until she was pressed against him. Luka slipped his hand from her face to wrap around her waist and pull her even closer, his hand still on the door steadying them both and grounding him, giving him the strength to finally pull back when he really would just as soon have suffocated if it meant kissing her a little longer. It took more than a moment for them to both catch their breath, both taking in each other’s disheveled appearances. Luka in his significantly more rumpled pajamas, the faintest trace of her expensive lipstick staining his mouth, his eyes hooded and his hair a wreck, and Marinette’s gorgeous blue eyes gone glassy and dark, her delectable mouth kiss-bruised, and—okay she really, really needed to go right now. Apparently she reached the same conclusion at that moment, because she reached back and fumbled for the door handle. Luka got there first and opened it for her. 

“Text me, let me know you got home safe?” he managed to get out, aware that he was grinning like a fool. 

“I will,” she flashed a bright smile at him that made his racing heart skip several beats, and he watched her until she was in the taxi before closing the door with a sigh. 

No way he was sleeping now. Luka went straight for his guitar.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | AO3

[likeshootingstarsinthenightsky]

You Matter to Me (Kevin Hayes)

So, I’m not the best with writing sad/angsty things, but this has a lot of angst in it. But yeah, this is me trying to write something that’s not really fluff. The parts that are in italics are things that happened in the past (memories). Hope y’all like it.

 Kevin had been your first crush. Your first kiss, and your first heartbreak. When the two of you dated in your freshman year of college, things started out great. The two of you were so full of love for each other. But things changed towards the end of the year you spent as a couple. Kevin was working harder and harder with the hopes to make it to the NHL. You on the other hand, were trying to figure out what you wanted to major in.

You could remember the moment the two of you broke up. It was a memory that always haunted you, especially when you started thinking about your college days.

“When did things get so complicated?” You asked your boyfriend. You see his shoulders sag, and you could see the way his eyebrows furrowed together, the tiredness in his eyes, with dark circles underneath them. You could just see how much pain he was in- you were sure that your face matched his.

“I don’t know.” He whispers, as he ungracefully sits on his bed, his head hanging, and his hands running through his hair. “I don’t know.”

All you wanted to do was go over to him, and wrap your arms around him, and run your hands through his hair, and tell him ‘it’s okay,’ but you don’t know if things will be okay. Instead, you distance yourself. Reaching the door, you turn once more.

“I’m sorry.” You say, as you open the door and walk away from the man you thought you’d spend forever with.

Every time you thought of that memory, you always thought about how it felt so much like a romantic comedy movie, except, you were sure that there wouldn’t be a happy ending like in the movies.

---

Kevin went on to play college hockey, and even made his dream to play in the NHL come true. You had graduated and started working in California, before making yourself a home in Philadelphia. The first time you saw him in Philadelphia, you couldn’t believe it.

You were out with your coworkers when you saw him. He was at the bar with some people, probably teammates of his. At first, you doubted that it was him. But once you heard his voice, and his laugh, especially his laugh, you knew that it was Kevin. Hoping that he wouldn’t see you, you focused on the people you were with, and tried not to let your eyes wander in his direction. And it worked, for the most part. You laughed when something was funny, and you joined in the conversations, but a part of you always felt anxious, and that he would see you. To your relief, he left with his friends after a couple of drinks, not that you were counting or anything.

---

Two months. That’s how long it was until both Kevin and you were drawn to the same location once again.

You don’t know why you’re here, and yet; you feel like this is where you’re supposed to be. Amanda, one of your coworkers got hockey tickets as a birthday gift, but no one wanted to go with her; mostly because no one was into hockey. Naturally, being the good person (and friend) that you are, you had decided to go with her. She wanted to get as close to the glass as possible, because someone had told her to watch warmups before the game.

You didn’t know who was playing, you didn’t even care who was playing. Instead of looking out to see what was going on during warmups, you were busying yourself on your phone. It was only when Amanda was practically yanking on your arm that you looked up. In front of you was that man you thought you’d be with forever. You were frozen in your spot. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t think. You noticed that he had something in his hands- a puck. He wanted to give you a puck. Tossing it over, you caught it- like your body was on autopilot. You could tell Amanda was freaking out next to you, and you knew that she was going to ask you about this once you made your way to your seats. Once the game started, any mentions of what happened during warmups was forgotten.

His team won. And you finally had the courage to look at the puck once the game ended. Along the side, there was tape that said to look for someone. He wanted to see you. You knew that you shouldn’t have agreed. But you told Amanda that you would see her at work. The two of you made small talk, but the one thing you knew was that you wanted him.  

The next morning, it took you a moment to figure out where you were. But as the fog cleared, you realized that this was his place, his room. As your body started to wake up, you could feel the familiar weight of his arms around your waist, his breath on your neck, and the soothing warmth of his body next to yours. You knew that if you moved, you wouldn’t be able to leave without walking him up. You decided to move, and just like clockwork, you felt the arms holding you tighten, and you could feel his lips on your skin. You whispered that you needed to use the bathroom, and he gave you the room to move. You grab the closest thing, a sweater- his sweater. In the bathroom, you give yourself some time to breathe, and wash your face. Making your way back into the room, you see him sitting up on the bed. You want to leave, but he points out that your wearing his sweater. He offers to make coffee for the two of you, and you accept it.

The two of you are in his kitchen. The bar being the only thing distancing you from each other. The two of you talk. You bring up all the feelings you felt the day you left, and he tells you how he felt too. You both feel like this time it will work out.

---

Kevin and you worked. You knew him better than he knew himself, and in turn, he knew you better than anyone else. You got along well with his teammates and the other significant others. Everything was going well. The two of you decided to move in with each other, and you couldn’t be any happier than the two of you were.

Until you weren’t. You wanted to blame the long road trips, the long work hours, anything.

The two of you were in the living room, it was a nice sunny day. For a moment, you were transported back in time, to the first time the two of you were in this situation. But this time, it was different. You could tell in the way Kevin was pleading with you to stay.

“Wait,” you can see the pain in his eyes, “you can’t leave me. Not again.” The desperation in his voice makes you want to stay, but you knew that words can sometimes hold empty promises.

“Why?” Your voice cracked, you didn’t want him to see your tears, or hear how hard this was on you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this hurt you. “Why should I stay?”

“You matter to me.” He says, moving to hold your head in his hands, so that you could look right into his eyes. “You matter so much to me.”

“Don’t.” You say, your voice sounding colder than you expected it to be. You see the hurt flash through his eyes, and you almost want to take it back. “Don’t.” You say softer, moving out of his reach.

“Please, (Y/N).” He looks like he wants to reach out to you but rethinks the action and balls his hands into fists.  

“Fuck!”

The curse word that left his mouth made you look at him. You were frozen in your spot.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Kevin mumbles as he moves to sit on the couch. His hands covering his face.

Slowly, as if you don’t want to wake a sleeping bear, you make your way towards him. Kneeling on the floor, you move to take his hands away from his face. Holding his much larger hands in your smaller ones, you look up into his face. You see the tears that have fallen from his eyes, and just how broken he looks.

“What was supposed to happen Kev?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. But he heard you. His eyes trained on yours. He pulls on your hands so that you move from your spot on the floor and onto the couch next to him. Turning so that one of his knees is touching yours, you wait for him to start speaking.

“We were supposed to be happy, y’know.” He says, one of his hands moving to hold on of yours. He waits for you to pull your hand away, but you never do. “You were supposed to move in, and I was going to ask you to marry me, and we get married and have kids and grow old together.”

“Oh Kevin.” You wanted to say how much you wanted that too, how you saw all of that happening, but that was the only thing that came out of your mouth.

“You probably think it’s dumb.” Kevin says, shaking his head, “it probably is.”

Reaching out, you take hold of both of his hands, giving them a squeeze, you wait until you see him looking at you. You give him a small smile, and he returns it with one of his own.

“It’s not dumb,” you say, emphasizing your words with another squeeze of your hands. “I want that all with you too.” Kevin’s eyes go wide.

“Baby,” Kevin says, “how do we fix this? How do we fix us?” You don’t know what to say, so all you do is launch yourself into Kevin, who easily wraps you in a hug. The two of you going through all the emotions. You can feel his tears wetting your shirt, and you’re sure that your tears are doing the same to his.

Once the tears subsided, you tried to ease yourself off Kevin’s lap, but you feel his arms holding you, preventing you from moving. You look at him, and you knew that if you wanted to, you could move. But you didn’t.

The two of you started talking about everything and anything. It was the most the two of you have said to each other in a long time. Kevin gestures for you to get up, you look at him confused.

“I can’t be the only one who’s hungry.” He says with a shrug, and you laugh, which makes him smile.

Once you’ve recovered from laughing you make your way towards the kitchen. Looking through all the things you have, you turn to Kevin and ask, “how does pasta sound?���

Kevin moves towards the kitchen counter and sits on one of the barstools. “If you’re cooking, I’ll eat anything.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Just you wait, I’ll cook something, and you’ll regret ever saying that you’ll eat anything I make.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin says, as he watches you move around the kitchen gathering the things you’ll need.

“If you’re going to be in the kitchen, might as well make yourself useful Kevin.” You tease him. Kevin moves around the counter and helps with dinner. Under your instructions, he helps you with dinner.

Once dinner was prepared, the two of you eat in comfortable silence. The two of you clean everything and end up on the couch again.

“Are we going to be okay?” Kevin asks. You look at him, and in your heart, you already know the answer to that question.

“We will be.” You say. Kevin nods his head.

“I meant what I said.” He says, and you’re not sure what he’s talking about. He moves, so that he’s holding your head in his hands. Looking into your eyes he tells you, “you matter to me. Even the day you left all those years ago, you still mattered to me.”

He brushes a few of the stray tears that escaped before kissing your forehead. “You will always matter to me.”

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Go Play Your Video Games

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Teen (T) Word Count: ~5k Notes: This came from the prompt “You beat my high score? You... beat my high score?” from my anonymous pal. I went the high school au route - it turned into something a little more interesting than I anticipated. Might follow this one up if you guys are interested! Warnings: Steve Rogers is kind of a tool & there’s a bit of “violence”. Summary:

Tony grew up in a small town where everyone knows everyone and nothing ever changes. Then a new kid comes to town and flips everything upside down. Peter is everything Tony’s usual is not and he’s a big fan of that.

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

In Littleton, things still moved pretty slow. Not that progression didn’t happen – it was 2020, after all. Yet, there were many things that existed from the “past”; drive-in theaters, record stores, and most importantly – an arcade. For most of the youth in the town, nightly hangouts met up at the record store and finished the night off at the arcade. At least, that’s how things were for Tony.

Spending time at home really wasn’t an option – despite being insanely intelligent and successful in his athletic endeavors, Tony’s father hated him. He wasn’t sure of the reason, it felt innate from the time Tony could remember trying to gain his approval. The older he got, the easier it was to ignore it – not being in the house was one of the best ways to do that.

Because of that, the arcade quickly became a place that Tony could disappear into for hours on end. Whether he was meeting the guys there later in the evening or only had a couple of hours between school and football, Tony spent all of his free time there. It astounded him, how long he could play on one quarter – how each of the games on his row had AES in the high scorer column. Regardless of the way his father felt about him, the arcade never let him down.

Then, Peter Parker moved to town.

The fact that a new family was moving into Littleton had the rumor mill running. In all of the years of Tony’s life, he only saw a couple of new additions to the small town. Most of the families within it, including his own, were old and had rich roots in the businesses that kept the small community running. Stark Industries was over 100 years old and stood as a looming reminder of the next disappointment he planned to add to the pile of shit his family already disliked about him.

When Tony first heard about it, they were starting football training camp. They were a small 2A school, but the team and the 5 straight state titles the school brought home were important – so, most of the parents and friends of the people on the field were crowded around the sidelines. Ever since Tony could remember, practice was a social affair just as much as the athletic gathering that it should have been.

He and Clint were doing running drills when Steve ran over, a new sort of look on his face. “Have you guys heard about the new kid coming to town? Peggy told me that he was a senior just like us and smart as hell,” Steve babbled, excitement and a certain kind of fear lacing his voice. Tony knew that Steve hated changed the most out of them all – always had.

Stopping himself, Tony turned his full attention to the conversation, his aversion to change not anywhere close to Steve’s. The small-town life wasn’t for him, he secretly had a calendar that he crossed off the days left until graduation (only 297 to go!) A new person brought something different and that was more intriguing than anything else – even the football being chucked at his head.

Tony turned just in time, his hands coming up to stop the ball from hitting him square in the face. “Hey, fuck off, Barnes. Your boyfriend is telling us about the new blood coming to town,” Tony hollered across the field, a smirk slipping across his face at the blush that immediately pooled in Bucky’s cheeks. Things between him and Steve were still newer, and Tony loved to give them shit for it.

A throat clearing had Tony turning back to Clint and Steve, both of them looking a little worse for wear. “As I was saying – this new kid is supposed to not only be smart, but good at sports, too – “

Try as he might, Tony couldn’t get the thought of newness and what came from that out of his head. Last year, he started to get chatters from several different universities wanting to sign him to play football. Though his father wanted nothing to do with it, Maria took Tony to a couple of different overnight stays to see what the college athletics thing was all about; he fell in love with it instantly.

The thought of getting to appreciate something shiny and new before heading off to whatever school he could convince to take him made his heart beat a little faster. Littleton needed something to spark a little fire in the mundaneness of scheduled and unmoving life.

Steve’s pointed look and the repeated question of “what do you think about this, Tony?” brought him away from the daydreams, his eyes blinking for a second.

Running a hand through his sweaty hair, Tony shrugged his shoulders. It wouldn’t do him any good to go gushing or anything. “I haven’t thought about it,” he decided to reply, instead. “It’ll be nice to have some uniqueness in this godforsaken place.” Tony shot Steve a wink and reached across the way, his hand giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just keep your fingers crossed he doesn’t have a better arm than you.”

Practice went off without a hitch after that – Fury called them in for a huddle and they got to work. Luckily, Tony spent a bunch of time with the rest of the guys working out, so the drills and running felt like a piece of cake. It was good to be back to some semblance of a routine, even if that meant spending less time surrounded by his beloved video games. They’d still be there when he was done sweating for the day.

And they were – still standing there when he walked into Munchies later that day. It took him a while to shower and get away from the rest of the group, which meant he hit the games when the floor wasn’t busy. Changing in $5 for quarters, Tony headed to his most favorite game – Galaga. Most of his attention was usually spent on the dark screen with ships and missiles flying across it.

Tony set down the lot of quarters on the ledge of the game by the player 2 joystick, one of them already in his hand to slip into the coin slot. Yet, he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the top score screen flash in front of him. Instead of AES as usual, the initials PBP were sitting above his, the score more than a 1000 points better than his. Sucking in a breath, Tony felt his hand clench into a fist. 2 things ran across his mind in that instant – how the fuck was he going to score another 1000 points and who the hell was PBP?

----

He didn’t have to wait long to put a face to the initials.

The very next day at practice, the collective was staring over at the far end of the field – the bespoken new kid was putting his cleats on; it was obvious that everyone was staring, so it looked like he was trying not to stare back. When he looked up, Tony got the air knocked out of him. Whatever shit the other guys were saying completely blew past him. Getting up, Tony started over in his direction.

Not only did he look well built, which would come in handy on the field, this new kid had pale skin that seemed to go on for miles. His sleeveless shirt did nothing to hide the tight bundles of muscle covering his arms and upper chest. As if the long, lean limbs weren’t enough, Tony noticed that the stranger wore his hair longer, the curls at the back of his neck barely grazing the surface of his shirt. The longer bits in the front were pulled back by a gray headband to complete the look.

More than anything, Tony instantly wanted to know more about the beautiful person confidently striding over to him. Since things ended between him and Beck the year before, Tony hadn’t even thought about going after someone new. Yet, his eyes glazed over a little bit when the guy started to jog, his muscles clenched with every step and the sway of his hair was slightly hypnotic.

Tony forced himself to suck in a couple of gulps of air before the new guy was standing right in front of him, a smile on his face. “Hey man, I’m Pete.” He spoke without preamble and stuck his hand out between them like there wasn’t a group of 50 dudes staring the two of them down.

Thinking fast, Tony grabbed his hand and squeeze, the gentle up and down of their shake just as distracting as the movement of Peter’s hair in the wind. He probably held on much longer than necessary before reining himself in. “You must be the coveted new kid. Nice to meet you, Pete. I’m Tony,” he replied lightly, his head turning a bit. “I’m not sure you’re going to get anything other than that from those guys. Want to warm up with me?”

The ease in which Peter accepted brought a grin to his face – Tony caught Steve staring at him as the moved further onto the field, but he simply shot him the middle finger, put his head down, and jogged after Peter.

Leather flew across the air at him with a sharp snap – his warmup toss seemed to be more accurate than any of Tony’s best throws. Tony caught the ball a couple more times before turning his focus back to Peter. “So, where are you from, Pete? We don’t get a lot of transplants.” Though Tony didn’t really give a shit, the rest of the guys would be breathing down his neck for answers later on.

“I’m from Queens, actually. My aunt got a job at SI, so here we are,” Peter replied, his throwing mechanics never faltering as he spoke. “You can tell them my last name is Parker and I’ll be trying to play quarterback.” Peter smirked at him; the ball still held tightly in his hands. Tony watched his eyes move passed his shoulder to the group that was still looking at the two of them intently.

A laugh fell from his lips before he could stop it. Tony rested his hands on his hips and let the feeling wash over him. It was refreshing, to be around someone that didn’t have to think for 2 days before putting all of the pieces together. “I think I’d rather let them find out by themselves.” Then, because it also took Tony a second to piece things together, he realized he was talking to PBP – the Galaga genius.

“Have you been to Munchies?” Tony asked, his smile growing a bit wider when a look of recognition rolled across Peter’s face.

Peter threw the ball at Tony before responding – his hands were quick, the whole vision of it almost distracting enough to not put his own hands up in time. “You mean the arcade? Yeah, I went when we got in last night. I love all of those old games.”

Shaking his head, Tony let his fingers curl over the laces of the ball, the feeling comforting. “You beat my high score? You… beat my high score? You’re PBP! How the hell did you get to be so good?” Tony let the surprise roll off of him, the soft look on his face hopefully enough to make Peter understand the sarcasm of the words.

“Ah, so you’re AES. I wondered who had the top dog spot. Don’t worry – I’ll only beat your high score on a couple of those games. My real talent is skee-ball. Coney Island isn’t too far from where I grew up – I learned everything I know there,” Peter remarked, his eyes shining brightly at the exchange.

Chucking the ball back, Tony forced himself not to beam – this new kid was already an interesting addition to the masses, and he knew him for less than 20 minutes. “You’ll have to show me some time,” Tony said right before the whistle blew. He caught the ball one last time and closed the distance between them. “You’re going to be a good addition around here, Peter Parker.”

----

Despite how enamored Tony felt with Peter and his presence, the rest of his friend group did not share the same opinion. For one thing, Peter was gunning for Steve’s spot and that didn’t sit well with either him or Bucky. Peter didn’t help himself when he came out and blew them all away in sprints – he was fast and strong; a combination that not a lot of people could cop to. His knowledge of the game became apparent when he took to the plays like he ran them constantly, not just once before. Like everyone else feared – the new kid brought change, and not a single person around Littleton liked change.

A few weeks after Peter’s arrival, Tony convinced him to head to Munchies with him – they talked frequently about it and like he predicted, Peter took over his highest score spot on a couple more games. It was about time Tony saw the master in his element. After practice, Tony opened Peter’s door for him as they climbed into the black Mustang Tony restored himself the previous summer.

“The customization you did to this thing is incredible, Tony,” Peter mentioned when Tony climbed in and started to get settled. “You said you did a lot of work, but I didn’t think you meant – this much.” His eyes widened a little as he took in all the shiny things Tony added around the car.

His favorite thing, the new sound system in the dash, pulled his Spotify up and started to play the more recent Kings of Leon album – the deep sounds of Caleb Followill’s voice swarming around them. Smiling, he turned the volume down a bit; his father didn’t understand his obsession with creating things, but it felt good to sit in something he brought back from the dead. The car was just the first step in a long journey of creation – Tony wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to getting the car on and into traffic before he thought to respond. “It was basically just a rusty frame and a couple of axels when I bought it. I redid the engine, transmission, brake system – all the fun stuff under the hood. Steve, Bucky, and I did the exterior – Buck’s an artist, so the paint job is all him.”

Peter shifted a little in his seat, Tony caught the movement out of the corner of his eye as he stopped at the light. When he looked over, he was facing Tony. “So, you’re into engineering and stuff, then? Engine restoration isn’t rookie work,” Peter said softly, the cutest smile on his face. He seemed relaxed, which made Tony feel at ease, too.

The comfortability that existed in the small space between them was unlike anything Tony ever experienced.

“I am, yeah. The family business is so far outside of that scope that I kind of keep it to myself. I’m almost done with an Associate’s of Science so I can start into a Mechanical Engineering program wherever I decide to go to college. Littleton Community College does this degree transfer thing with the high school, so I’ve been using the garage there since my freshman year.” Tony blinked, the thought of saying that much in one breath pulling a blush to the surface of his skin.

“You’re smart, too?” Peter questioned, a hand coming up to his chest in fake exasperation. In the days since getting to know each other, Tony brought up many topics of conversation that were well beyond his other friends, but not Peter – it was clear that as intellectuals, there was a mutual appreciation of the other’s mind.

“Jokes aside, that’s really cool. Seems like we’re going to be competing for highest scorer in school, too.” As he spoke, he reached a hand out and grazed Tony’s extended arm, the touch like a scorch of fire against his skin. It lingered, the heat of it. Then, Peter dropped his hand and let it rest lightly on the edge of Tony’s thigh.

Before Tony could stop it, a hearty laugh left his lips – Peter brought competition into everything and set out challenges for them both to overcome; even in the few short weeks of knowing him, Tony understood that. It felt a different kind of good, being with him – he loved his friends, but like all things about Peter, his feelings towards him were completely unique. It felt easy to reach down and wrap his fingers around Peter’s – their hands resting on his leg.

“I feel like there’s no competition, though. I’ve never gotten anything less than an A in my life,” Tony remarked proudly, his fingers giving Peter’s a squeeze.

The snort he heard on the other side of the car made his heart pang – another point in the bank of things he liked about Peter. It was getting rather full, between his smarts and the quippy shit he had to say to any of the guys that ragged on him – it was hard to not be adding things to it on a daily basis. So when they drove by the arcade, Tony kept driving; Peter’s nod as they met eyes for a second made it easy to do.

Instead, Tony drove them out of Littleton and across the miles of empty space between there and the next town over. They talked about everything – Peter’s want to do Biomedical Engineering and the multiple sport talents he’d be showing off throughout the year. Tony learned about his uncle Ben and the unfortunate death that brought Peter and his aunt there to begin with.

In return, Tony told him a little bit about growing up in a small town and the immense pressure that came with being a Stark when he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the name or anything that came with it. When he talked about his dad, Peter let their fingers tangle together, the anchor of his touch making it a little easier to gush some of the details that he never thought to tell another soul.

It was so easy to lean across the center console and press his lips to Peter’s when they pulled up outside of the small house the Parker’s now lived in. The hand that was tangled with Peter’s all night reached up to cup his cheek lightly, the skin there soft and smooth under his fingertips. Tony let himself linger for a couple of minutes before pulling back, a shy smile slipping across his lips as he did.

“I had a good time, Tony,” Peter mumbled, his cheeks just as flushed as Tony’s felt. “Let’s actually go to the arcade sometime – I’ll cash out the first round.” With that, he leaned over and gave Tony a kiss on the cheek, then got out – all of it happening before Tony could even think to reply or give back or even say goodbye.

Blinking, Tony shook his head – the haze of being with Peter overwhelming him, making him lose himself for a second. The sound of On Call hit his ears when he resurfaced – the music pulling him back down to where gravity had ahold of him again. Before pulling away from the curb, Tony ducked down to see Peter leaned up against the door frame, eyes on Tony.

He didn’t look away until Peter was no longer in his sight. A goofy smile settled on his lips, the feeling of happiness settling in and taking hold.

----

The inevitable blow up Tony expected from day one finally happened right after the 1st game of the season.

Despite Steve being the starting quarterback for 3 years, Fury trusted his gut and put Peter in. It paid off, too – between his throwing abilities and the collective talent of the offense, Littleton was up by 30 at the end of the first half. It was obvious that a few people were upset by the change, but the juice the team got from the squeeze of Peter’s efforts was more important than hurt feelings (so was a win by 50 points, but who was counting?)

Tony met Peter at the edge of the field when the last seconds of the 4th quarter trickled down, his arms wrapping around the large pads that covered both their shoulders. The chemistry between them extended to the field, Tony went for 4 touchdowns that night.

Excitement was not the feeling that Tony walked into the locker room to, however – after Fury gave his post-game speech and hyped them up for post-game walk through the next day, the tangible tension came to a head. Tony got out of his gear, into the shower, and changed as fast as he possibly could. Grabbing Peter when he noticed he was ready, Tony directed them out of the locker room and into fresh air that wasn’t tainted with misplaced anger.

“Me playing is really that big of a deal? We won – the team played great. I don’t see what the issue is,” Peter said as they walked towards Tony’s Mustang. During the last couple of weeks of practice, the reality of Peter starting started to sink in for everyone – including Steve, who already felt the need to keep the grudge he formed before ever even meeting Peter.

“You know the answer to that question, Pete. This is a small town. Steve and his family and all of the people that know his family have seen him play all game every game for the past 3 years. There’s no getting around that dynamic, Pete – that’s why I want out so bad. It’s toxic and leaves no room for new or change or anything other than the usual. You have to understand that, at least,” Tony replied.

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulder bumping into Tony’s in silent agreement. “Okay, I do get that. I do – it’s just nothing personal. I know that’s not the fucking point, but it seems like it should be.”

Getting to the car, Tony dropped his bag by the passenger side door and let his arm trap Peter between himself and the car. He let a palm drift to Peter’s cheek, Tony’s thumb brushing over the seam of plush lips. “It should be, Pete. It doesn’t mean that it is.” Tony said truthfully, his own knowledge of being stuck in the box of the people around him fresh in his mind. “You just keep doing what you’re doing. I like it, at least.”

Their lips met in a soft kiss, Peter leaning forward to seal their lips together. Tony smiled into it and let his hand move into the still wet locks of Peter’s hair. The idea of getting away quickly vaguely registered – Tony broke the kiss and took a step away from him to break the spell Peter’s presence put him under. “Want to actually go to Munchies?”

It didn’t take anything other than Peter’s slight nod to have Tony opening his door, and walking around to his own side of the car, his bag getting tossed in the backseat as he got in. Tony made quick work of backing out and getting them on the road towards the arcade. It was a little more crowded than usual, but it was a Friday night – the crowds were inevitable.

As promised, Peter cashed out a $10 bill and split the quarters between them. Tony directed them towards the skee-ball immediately, his curiosity in Peter’s talent wining out over the need to kick some ass in Street Fighter. The way Peter’s eyes lit up said he made the right choice and for a solid 20 minutes, Tony watched in awe.

“The trick is to aim the ball high on the side so that when it banks, it catches the lip of the double bonus,” Peter muttered, his arm swinging gracefully, the ball doing exactly what he described. Ticket after ticket came barreling out of the game. The thought of having the skee-ball machines turned off because of too much prize distribution was quickly becoming a reality.

Unable to contain himself after Peter’s 8th game and the smiles that came with every play, Tony placed a hand on the other’s hip. The touch was enough for him to turn around, Peter’s hands wrapping around his shoulders tightly. They didn’t need to be making out in the arcade, but a kiss or two wouldn’t hurt anyone. Meeting in the middle, their lips met in a soft kiss – the shockingly familiar feeling of Peter against his front overtaking him.

The sudden shout of his name had him pulling back – the sound of Steve’s voice unmistakable. Tony thought about letting his lips linger, the forceful tone of his friend’s shriek one he didn’t like very much. Deciding against that, Tony detached from Peter completely, his hands drifting to settle into the depths of his pockets.

“Stevie – surprised to see you here,” Tony answered, his eyebrows quirking. Since he started to hang out with Peter, the rest of his friend group didn’t go out of their way to spend too much time with him. The usual nights of hanging out with a big group were reduced to Peter and Tony – something he actually wasn’t upset about at all.

Steve settled in front of him, Bucky and Clint on his flanks. “What did he do to gain your loyalty like this? Everyone else is pissed about tonight and you’re here making out with the person wreaking havoc.” Steve’s voice sounded petulant, the cross of his arms adding to the effect.

“Wreaking havoc? Steve, can you hear yourself? Peter is here living his life – which happens to include playing football on the same team that you do. What’s happening here has nothing to do with loyalty. He’s better than you, that’s all there is to it,” Tony stated bluntly – his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure if that was the right approach to take – but there wasn’t much to be done about it now.

His friend looked taken aback for a second, the blue of his eyes darkening. “How could you choose him over us? We’ve been your friends since birth, Tony.” The words were cutting and by the barely withheld smile on his face, Steve knew it, too.

“The fact that you’re playing that card is exactly why I’ll gladly stand by Peter. You’re too wrapped up in your own shit to realize that the team did well tonight – no matter how bad you felt about standing on the sideline, you should know how important that is. My friendship with you should not depend on my relationship with Peter. You’re my best friend, Steve – but I’m not going to let you make that sort of decision for me.”

In retrospect, he should have seen the punch coming – Steve got angrier with every one of Tony’s words. Throughout their life, Steve had been known to speak with his hands before thinking it through. It still stung, though – the throb of the punch and the fact that Steve delivered it at all. His hand shot up to cradle his cheek, a bruise already starting to form there.

It looked like Peter was going to try and retaliate, so Tony moved in front of him quickly. “It’s not worth it,” Tony whispered before Peter could protest or try and move him out of the way. He could do it, they both knew that; the sound of his voice must have reached something in him – Peter stopped in his tracks.

“I think you’re going to really regret doing that, Steve. Not because I’m going to hold it against you, but because you’re going to feel like a total asshole when I don’t.” Tony flashed him a smirk, his cheek smarting at the movement. Softening his voice, Tony spoke again. “Please get the fuck out of here, man. I think we’re done for the night.”

Despite the stupidity he just showed, Steve nodded stiffly and turned around to walk out the door. He shot a remorseful look over his shoulder, but Tony ignored it, his attention shifting back to Peter, instead. He let out a soft moan when the coolness of Peter’s hand touched his cheek, the other’s grip there locking their gazes. “Thanks for not letting me beat the shit out of him,” Peter whispered, his nose brushing against Tony’s.

Soaking up the touch, Tony felt himself smiling. “That’d make him right. The key is to always be one step ahead.”

Peter let him go then, his eyes drifting towards the entrance. “Want to get out of here?” he asked, the adrenaline of the situation obviously sucking the fun out of the great time they were having right before it.

Without thought, Tony nodded, his eye throbbing as he did. Grinning, he grabbed for Peter’s hand and twined their fingers together, his grip tight. “Yeah, I really do,” Tony answered, the feeling of how right that was on so many levels washing over him.

Between the contentment and the big grin Peter kept on shooting his way, Tony figured a punch in the face wasn’t the worst thing to take in the name of love.