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deja-you · 4 years

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ten ways to say (i love you)

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Thomas has never liked the conventional way of saying ‘I love you.’

word count: 6.1k

warnings: a little bit of angst, high school, karen

masterlist

There is no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to your first class.

In Y/n’s defense, she had left her house early. For once in her life she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time, Y/n allowed herself to stop at a drive thru and pick up a drink as a reward. Everything was going according to plan.

That is, until the Karen in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it. To make sure she didn’t mess up Karen’s order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow. Y/n groaned as she watched the time tick by minute by minute. Just her luck.

Y/n watched the barista hand the drink to the Karen and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, Karen’s car didn’t move. She had her drink, but Karen continued to talk with the barista. Y/n cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel. She must have been more aggressive than she was expecting, because she accidentally honked her horn.

She jumped back in shock at the loud noise. Karen poked her head out of her window and immediately began lecturing Y/n on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what Y/n assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear the Karen with her windows rolled up. Y/n bit her lip, gave the Karen a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually Karen had finished her rant and left the drive thru. Y/n got her drink, no longer a reward, more like a consolation now, and sped to school. There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time Y/n arrived, remind her of just how late she was. Y/n shoved all her materials in her backpack, locked her car, and quickly walked into the building.

Of course, Y/n’s first class just had to be with Mr. Rousseau. Any other teacher would just let her tardiness slide. She opened the door to Mr. Rousseau’s classroom, and any conversation that was being had stopped. More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and Y/n wanted to melt right there and then.

“Miss L/n, nice of you to join us.” Mr. Rousseau addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning against his desk as he sized her up. “If you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.”

Y/n swallowed roughly, and nodded. Rousseau went back to lecturing the class on how his class would be run, and Y/n did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. She instinctively made her way over to where her best friends, Abigail and Thomas were sitting.

Thomas moved his backpack off the desk next to him, and mouthed, “I saved you a seat.”

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks.’

Abigail leaned forward and whispered, “Mr. Rousseau wasn’t very amused with you being late, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” Y/n insisted.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t hate you, hon’.”

“Thomas is right,” Abigail said. “Mr. Rousseau doesn’t hate you especially. Everyone knows he just hates women.”

Late night study session was code for hanging out at John Adams’s house and messing around.

Abigail was dating John, so Y/n was friends with him and his friends by association. Abigail, Dolly, and Y/n were actually trying to study. John and James were discussing the football team’s chances of winning their next game. Martha and George had snuck off to get freaky somewhere.

“Okay, Dolly.” Abigail held up a flash card. “What can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?”

“Um, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” Dolly replied lazily.

“No. Well, I guess you’re not completely wrong...”

Y/n threw her body against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay here any longer, Y/n would throw herself out a window. Not that she didn’t want to hangout with her friends. After a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she spent the whole day with. If it wasn’t for her fragile social status, Y/n would have already been home in her bed right now.

“Sorry m’late, had to drop my sister off at a gymnastics class. Or fencing. Or Italian. Honestly, I can’t remember.” Thomas walked into the living room where everyone was hanging out.

“Ah, yes. I had almost forgot that the Jeffersons are all overachievers,” Y/n said with and eye roll.

He wore an easy grin as he made his way over to Y/n, leaning against the couch and staring down at her. “What can I say? We’re just built different.”

Y/n scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes again, pretending she was back at home under warm covers.

“I brought you food.”

This caught Y/n’s attention. She slowly opened one eye to see if he was telling the truth. Thomas held up a bag of fast food he must’ve picked up on his way over. Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she sat upright.

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, hon’.” He handed her the bag. “I know you didn’t have time for lunch today, and I know you likely wouldn’t have gotten around to eating anything yet.”

Y/n happily pulled out an order of large fries out of the bag. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are, Thomas?”

“Not often enough.”

“Well. You are amazing. So amazing.”

Y/n finished her fries and was looking through the rest of the bag to see what else he had gotten her when John called out to her.

“Hey, Y/n,” John said, “what are your thoughts on my cousin?”

“You mean Sam Adams?” Y/n asked.

“Yep. The very one.”

She shrugged. “He’s cute. Why?”

“He thinks you’re cute. Wanted me to ask if you’re single,” John said nonchalantly.

Abigail took time away from quizzing Dolly to get invested in the conversation. “She’s very single. Right, Y/n? You and Sam would be so cute together!”

Y/n could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and she suddenly found the hardwood floors very interesting. “I don’t know... he really thinks I’m cute?”

“S’what he said,” John replied. “Can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a shrug. “Yeah, why not?”

“Y/n and Sam? I totally ship it,” Dolly said.

“Right?” Abigail grinned. “They’re going to be such an attractive couple.”

“Okay, can we stop talking about this now? I’m here to study,” Y/n insisted, pulling out a textbook.

“I’d rather not fail tomorrow’s test,” Thomas agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Thomas took that moment to sit next to Y/n on the couch. She was flipping through the pages of her textbook before she came to a stop. Y/n passed the textbook to Thomas and pointed to the painting on the page.

“Look, this one’s my favorite,” she said.

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” Thomas read. “You’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich, then?”

Y/n shrugged. “I’m just a fan of the Romantic movement in general. Everything was just so creative, and beautiful, and emotional. There’s just so much feeling in this painting. It’s overwhelming.”

Thomas frowned looking back at the painting, and then back to Y/n. “It certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Thomas watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. Finally, he decided to say what was on his mind.

“So, you and Sam Adams, huh?” He nudged her gently with his shoulder.

Y/n bit her lip and focused on a peculiar tchotchke the Mrs. Adams had decorated the living room with. “I guess. I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

“That’s right. Abbie and I spent most of science class teasin’ you about that. No wonder you’re so bad at physics now.”

She frowned and playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “I’m not bad at physics.”

“Really?” Thomas considered her with eyebrows raised. “Remember that botched science experiment that nearly killed Mr. Newton?”

“Can we not talk about that? He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

He hid an amused look. “Whatever you say, honey.”

You’re tired. The sheets are too hot. It’s been a long day, your body is exhausted. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Your mind is tired, too. The sheets are too hot. If you just close your eyes and stop thinking you’ll be asleep in minutes. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Not thinking isn’t exactly easy. The sheets are too hot. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how -- damn you, Sophocles, and your terribly beautiful words.

Thomas threw his covers off his body and sat up in bed. He wasn’t going to get much sleep no matter how hard he tried. Thomas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there had been any sleep to begin with.

There was no doubt that he was tired mentally and physically. Emotionally? His heart was eternally restless. He crossed his room to sit at his desk, fully accepting that sleep wasn’t a viable option anymore.

The blue light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of his room, but his eyes adjusted quickly. Thomas didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night.

His fingers knew. They opened up an application and began scrolling. No, no, no, yes. Perfect. No, no, no, no, no, yes. This is her. And this went on for an hour or so, Thomas lost track of time. He’d be tired tomorrow, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he was finished.

When he actually was finished, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calm washed over him, and before he knew it, Thomas was back in his bed falling asleep.

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as a Jefferson could look. He had still had the sense to dress nicely, collared shirt, sweater, ironed pants, polished dressed shoes. Thomas was still sharp as ever in all his classes, but anyone who really knew him could tell he was a mess.

“You okay, Thomas?” Y/n asked at lunch in Mr. Locke’s classroom (Mr. Locke was kind enough to let a group of moody teenagers eat lunch in his class, the lunchroom just wasn’t cool enough for them).

“Hm? Yeah. I’m great.”

Y/n cocked her head to the side. “You sure? You seem tired.”

“Don’t worry about me. Actually, I have something for you.” Thomas fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Yeah, I’m sending it now. Check your phone.”

She raised an eyebrow, but Y/n opened up her phone to check the text Thomas had sent her.

“Sophocles and Serotonin.” Y/n read aloud. “What is this?”

“I made you a playlist of songs I thought you might like.”

“Seriously?” A smile played on her lips; Thomas couldn’t help but reflect it. “When did you have the time for this?”

He shrugged. “I have more free time than you’d think.”

“With all your APs, varsity sport, and extracurriculars? I highly doubt that.” Y/n looked up at him, a teasing lilt transparent in her tone. “I appreciate the playlist even more, knowing you took time out of your rigorous schedule to create it. Thanks, Thomas.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on to press a kiss to his cheek. Thomas froze like a deer in headlights, and if Y/n noticed, she didn’t say anything. He put himself back together before she could notice he was momentarily put-off, and leaned back against another desk in an attempt to look cool.

“S’what do you have planned for after school?” He asked in his best nonchalant voice.

“Well, Sam and I are going to go see a movie.”

“That’s still a thing, then?”

Y/n shot him a look that had him raising his hands up in surrender. “Yes, it’s still a thing. I really like him, okay? He’s a good guy.”

“But is he good enough for you?” Thomas crossed his arms, his eyes not leaving her’s. It wasn’t that Thomas didn’t like Sam. Sam was great. It was just a fact that no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend.

“He is.” She said with an eye roll. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Hon’, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh trust me, I know.”

Summer had felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago. The yellow leaves and the updated fall Starbucks menu were enough to convince anyone that it had always been October.

It had taken a lot of convincing and a little bit of bribery to convince Thomas to attend the Homecoming football game, but with the assistance from Abigail, Y/n had eventually gotten Thomas to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there.

Of course she could have taken her own car, but Y/n would rather not waste her own gas when she could use Thomas’s instead. It’s not like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, his Mercedes Benz had a seat warming function that Y/n couldn’t get enough of.

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over his seat warmers, and Thomas spent most of the ride making fun of how excited she was about seat warmers. Eventually, they parked outside of the stadium, and Thomas paid for their entrance fee into the stadium.

“It’s co--” before Y/n could finish her sentence, remarking on the obvious cold weather, Thomas had handed her a sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at Thomas, her mouth slightly open. “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t have to ask,” he shrugged. She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Thomas glanced at, bit the inside of his lip, and shook his head. “Now, don’t go thinking I care about you or somethin’ like that, hon’. Couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d be cold.”

She looked at him with a smug smile on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place. “Yeah? Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all.” He was doing his best to act annoyed by all her questioning, but he couldn’t help but find it endearing. When he came up with another argument, he added on, “besides, ma would be upset with if she knew I let you freeze. It seems like she loves you more than she loves me sometimes.”

“That’s because she does,” Y/n pointed it out like it was obvious. “Can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man I have to drag to football games.”

“That’s it. Give the sweatshirt back. I hope you freeze.” Thomas was giving her the dirtiest look he could muster. Y/n had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her purse, and after some digging around, she pulled out a five dollar bill from her wallet. Y/n thrusted the money into Thomas’s hand and pushed him in the direction of the concession stand. “Here. Go get us some popcorn, maybe you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you. I’m going to go find some seats.”

Thomas grumbled something about “not being irritable” but nonetheless ventured off toward the concessions. Y/n climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Abigail sitting in the student section, all decked out in school colors and face paint. Abigail greeted Y/n with a warm hung, then holding her at an arms length, she took note of what her best friend was wearing.

“Is that Thomas’s sweatshirt?” Abigail asked.

Y/n looked down at the the University of Virginia sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself. “Hm? Oh yeah, it is.”

Abigail pursed her lips and mulled over this new information. “What’s going on between you and Thomas?”

“What d’ya mean? We’re friends.” Y/n pursed her lips.

“And Thomas knows that?” Abigail observed Y/n. “Do you know that?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Sam now, okay? Thomas and I have always just been friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Abigail held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. If you say so, I’ll believe you. I just don’t want any feelings to get hurt between the two of you.”

“There are no feelings between the two of us,” Y/n said, but she wouldn’t stop thinking about Abigail’s words for the rest of the night.

All week, Thomas had dreamt about the mint chocolate chip ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer.

It was his favorite flavor, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl. He had promised himself he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he had really deserved it. After spending a productive hour studying for the test he had tomorrow, Thomas decided he had finally earned that delectable bowl of artificially colored green ice cream.

He made his way to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. Thomas had made it all the way to the freezer when there was a knock at the front door.

Thomas paused. He was so close to getting his ice cream. Maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the bowl or ignoring and continuing to dish himself ice cream. Thomas was leaning toward his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the fridge and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Y/n?” He said in surprise when he opened the door.

“Hi, Thomas. I didn’t know who else to come to. Abigail’s out with John right now. Dolly and Martha aren’t good in situations like this,” she was speaking quickly, sniffling between sentences, and trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheeks. “I just--”

He interrupted Y/n by pulling her into his house and his arms. Y/n melted into his touch, her hands gripping his shirt as she hugged him back.

“What happened?” Thomas asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Sam and I broke up.”

Thomas sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip, weighed his options, and came to a reluctant conclusion. Thomas pulled away just enough that he could look Y/n in her bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream, huh?”

She offered him a miserable smile. “Ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to his kitchen and began digging through the kitchen while she hopped onto the counter to sit. Thomas hid a frown from Y/n while in the process of pulling out the nearly empty carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“So you want to tell me what happened?” Thomas asked, pulling out a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup.” Despite her words, Y/n still wiped at her tears with the sleeves of her shirt. “We mutually agreed it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “He’s just not... he’s not the one.”

Thomas felt something twist and turn in his stomach, but he knew it wouldn’t be right to be happy when his friend was so miserable. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form in the corners of his mouth. “M’sorry about that, honey.”

“I know it was the right decision,” she said, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt not to let any more tears stream down her face. “Doesn’t mean it hurts any less, though.”

“It’s normal to be upset after a break up,” Thomas shrugged.

“You’re not going to have any ice cream?” Y/n asked quietly as he handed her a singular bowl.

“Not in the mood for it,” he lied.

“You get enough sleep last night, hon’?”

Y/n was in mid-yawn when he asked her the question. She held a hand over her mouth and nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him. “Wow. Just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re a charmer, Thomas Jefferson?”

“You’d be surprised.” He gave her a teasing smile. “So who’s the cause for your sleepless nights?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She held up her textbook for him to see. “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you like spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch.” Thomas held a hand over his heart. “You really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone’s as gifted as Thomas flippin’ Jefferson.”

“Flippin’?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school. Gotta keep it PG, right?” She shrugged. “So yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a good amount of sleep. S’not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. I’ll make you a Quizlet next time so you can get more sleep.”

Y/n was about to say something in response when her phone began ringing in her pocket. “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Thomas turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his smile.

“Thomas.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Abigail sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? Thomas had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he would be certain not to share with her.

“Yes, Abbie?”

“Do you have a crush on Y/n?”

Thomas blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Abigail right. “Excuse me?”

Abigail rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You heard me right, Jefferson. Do you have a crush on Y/n?”

“Y/n? Where’d you get that idea?” Thomas made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re always following her around and doing whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention you always call her “hon’,” seems pretty affectionate to me.” Abigail had a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since I can remember, of course I care about her. So what if I have a nickname for her? Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you ‘Abbie’. I have a nickname for everyone.”

“We both know that’s a load of B.S. Are you really telling me you don’t like Y/n?”

“I don’t like Y/n.” And it wasn’t exactly a lie, because the feelings he had for Y/n had progressed far beyond liking.

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” Y/n said, pulling out a ball of azure colored yarn.

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall. “Sure, ‘cept maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She scowled at him. “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student. My only income comes from birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure Abigail will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” Y/n muttered, staring at the mess of strings in her lap.

Thomas’s eyes widened a little. “You telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“How hard could it be?” She pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, Y/n had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help.”

“You know how to knit?” Y/n raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands. “This is crocheting. You don’t even have knitting needles.”

“Apologies. You know how to crochet?”

“Lucy went through a stage where she was really into crocheting,” he shrugged. Thomas had quickly untangled Y/n’s “progress” and began to expertly thread together loops of yarn. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form. “See? Perks of growing up with sisters.”

“I hate that you’re good at everything.”

He snorted and gently began to move the work into Y/n’s hand for her to finish the rest. “’M’not good at everything. Just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Y/n was now laser focused on the project in front of her, determined to get it right this time. Thomas would advise her, but for the most part he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner.

“You’re never going to get it like that, hon--” Thomas caught himself, remembering the conversation he had had with Abigail earlier. “Y/n. You’re never going to get it like that, Y/n.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “What?”

He swallowed roughly and shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just... You’re going to want to pull the yarn tighter or it’s all going to unravel later.”

“Oh. Thanks, Thomas.”

It was 2 a.m., and Y/n had already came to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to get more than five hours of sleep. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe a dozen times now, but it wasn’t like anyone was posting in the middle of the night. Instagram was doing a poor job keeping her mind distracted.

Lightly biting her bottom lip, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and caved, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, Y/n tapped his contact with her thumb. Her phone began to hum while she waited for him to pick up.

“Hey, Thomas. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. Y/n frowned when she saw him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no. Couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy voice.

“You’re lying. Hey, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t let me bother you.”

Thomas stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at Y/n firmly through the camera. “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, yeah? Don’t worry about waking me up. I’d rather talk to you any way.”

Y/n pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. Thomas was too polite to ever tell someone if they were bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he really wanted to talk to her, or if he was just too courteous to tell her otherwise.

He noticed the look she gave him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me. Would’ve stopped bein’ friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing. Promise.” Thomas shot her a smug smile that made her wish she hadn’t called.

“So kind of you,” she said sarcastically.

“I try.” His grin widened, if that was even possible. “So what’d you want to talk to me about?”

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Thomas narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted, uncomfortable by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved. “I can’t stop thinking about how you called me ‘Y/n’ earlier today?”

He tensed up but the action was barely noticeable. “What about it? It’s your name.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “but you never call me ‘Y/n.” It’s always ‘hon’’ or ‘honey.’ Always. Did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No, ‘course not. Everything’s fine.” He paused. “That really upset you? Me calling you ‘Y/n’?”

“It’s just not normal.”

“It’s not normal for people to call you by your name?”

“It is, but you are supposed to call me ‘honey.’ Okay?”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop an amused smile from spreading on his lips. “Okay, honey.”

“I’m finally going to get to see your mural, then?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s not my mural, Y/n. It’s the senior mural. It’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea.” She gave him a playful nudge. “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the great Thomas Jefferson designed it, it’ll be the best Senior mural ever seen at Charlottesville High School.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, hon’. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re Thomas Jefferson.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Henrietta Johnston, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colorful hand prints standing above the blue-gray sea.

Y/n stared at the mural with an open mouth. She looked from Henrietta to Thomas, then back to the wall in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colorful with handprints,” Thomas said. “Thought it would be nice to let our class to literally leave a mark on this school.”

Henrietta smiled at the mural and set down her paintbrush. “It was a good idea. The splash of color is just what it needed. What do you think, Y/n? Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it. It’s... it’s perfect.” She turned to Thomas with wide eyes. “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. This is my favorite painting.”

“I noticed -- don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much. You just never shut up about that painting. It’s annoying, really,” Thomas muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the ground.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the painting, and Thomas was glad.

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Thomas was flustered. If Y/n had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t say anything.

10.

Charlottesville High School was filled with rich kids. The Charlottesville High School debate team had a minimal amount of members. These factors resulted in Thomas and Y/n having their own hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating, Thomas and Y/n walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they spared looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Thomas cleared his throat. “So that guy in the green shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him. “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. Told him you snored like an ogre and I gave him Maria’s number instead,” he said with a shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? I don’t snore like an ogre! He was cute and interested in me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Y/n scowled. “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny and enjoyable to be around. Even if I ‘snore like an ogre’ I’m also extremely attractive, so it makes up for it.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable, honey,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At the same time, Y/n and Thomas turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realized they were only inches apart, he could hear every inhale and exhale. His eyes flicked to her lips. It was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed it.

Thomas took a step back and cleared his throat. “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed. They both hurriedly stepped into their own rooms.

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Y/n leaned against her hotel room door. Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook her head and grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe Y/n could stop thinking about it after a good nights rest. She changed and was about to brush her teeth when she felt some kind of nagging feeling inside.

It was naïve to think she was going to get any sleep tonight if she didn’t confront Thomas about it. Y/n set down her toothbrush and made her way out into the fluorescent lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she paused.

Is this really what she wanted to do? If Y/n brought up their almost-kiss, would they be able to go back to friends? Did she even want to go back to friends? Y/n bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should just go to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their friendship in jeopardy. But then again, Y/n would always wonder what could have happened if she didn’t confront him.

She raised her fist to knock on Thomas’s door, but before she could knock, the door swung open. Thomas and Y/n once more stood face to face. She had a wide eyed expression that mirrored Thomas’s.

There was an accelerated heartbeat. A flutter. Thomas’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Y/n’s hand found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to her’s. His eyes were half open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair was all too real.

Thomas pulled her into his room, kicking the door closed behind them. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Thoughts were racing in Y/n’s mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist tightly -- there would be bruises there the next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss. Y/n came up empty handed.

There was no way Y/n felt the same way, Thomas told himself. There was no way she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with Y/n L/n. And for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her best friend.

Thomas missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were swollen and her hair was a mess. Her bright eyes, and the way light highlighted the softness of her skin. Thomas took that moment to memorize every line and curve of her face, branding the memory into his head.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time, sitting up. “Stop. We... we can’t do this. This can’t just be a one time thing.”

“Why not?” Her voice was quiet and delicate.

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw. “Because I love you.”

231 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Killer Combo - Ch 8 Epilogue

Luka sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, as he played the song again, listening hard for that wrong note, that chord that was just a little bit off, or whatever it was that he needed to fix. He shook his head slightly as he finished it, pressing his lips together. All the songs he’d written in the months since he’d gotten Claire back, some that he’d even been able to record in the studio thanks to his tournament winnings, and this had to be the one that didn’t want to come together. He’d been working on it the longest and it still wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure out why.

“I like this lovesick tune so much better than the last one,” Juleka sighed from where she was fussing with her hair in her mirror.

“Color me shocked,” Luka chuckled, slipping Claire off and setting her carefully in her stand. “You and Casey never did get along.”

“Yeah, well,” Juleka muttered, not looking at him. “This is why.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly. “I don’t follow.”

Juleka sighed and fidgeted, nervously rearranging the things on her table. “Because I know you didn’t feel like this with her. And this is what you deserve to feel. I felt like you were settling for less than you deserved and I didn’t want that for you.”

Luka paused, considering that. She was right, he knew. He’d been happy enough with Casey, but even the best parts of his relationship with Casey paled in comparison with the things he felt for Marinette.

He wasn’t going to admit it to Juleka’s face though. “Since when did you become the love expert?” Luka asked instead, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

Juleka tossed her hair over her shoulder and put her nose in the air. “We all have our talents.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just lying and I thought from the beginning that she was a high-maintenance, over-dramatic bitch who thought having a hot potential rock star boyfriend doting on her made her look good to her friends.”

Luka barked a laugh and turned away to cover the sting he still felt at her words, pulling off his shirt and dropping it on his bed as he dug through his drawers for a clean one. The one he wasn’t wearing wasn’t bad, but he’d been working on deck in the sun. If he hurried, he still had enough time to shower before he went to see Marinette. He grinned stupidly at the thought.

“Are you going to play it for her?” Juleka asked, leaning her chin on one hand and giving him a knowing look.

“I will,” he said, still smiling. “When it’s right. It’s just...not there yet. I don’t know, something’s just not quite right, it just...needs something. I’ll figure it out though.”

“You’re going to see her now, aren’t you?” Juleka snickered, and Luka rolled his eyes.

“She asked me to come by,” he shrugged, hoping he wasn’t blushing too much.

“I’ll bet she did,” Juleka leered. “I bet she loves it when you come.”

Luka rolled his eyes, snatching up the shirt he’d just changed out of and throwing it at her. “What are you, twelve?”

“Ew,” she complained, pulling off his shirt with two fingers and dropping it on the floor with an expression of disgust.

“I’m going to shower,” he huffed on his way out the door, and shut the door quickly before Juleka could make any comment on his shower temperature or activities. He was starting to think the benefits of his own place would start to outweigh the money he was saving living at home.

Half an hour later Luka stepped off the boat and headed toward the bakery with a grin on his face that he couldn’t have suppressed if he tried.

Luka Couffaine had never been a big believer in fate. He didn’t believe in predetermined destinies or that he was bound to adhere to some kind of cosmic will.

He did believe he was one damn lucky bastard.

Even in the depths of frustration and betrayal and heartbreak, he’d known that. Maybe things weren’t going his way, but he was lucky in so many ways. Luka was lucky to have a family that loved and supported him. He was lucky to have grown out of his lanky teenage ugly duckling stage into a young man that many people found attractive. He was lucky to have a talent and the means and passion to pursue it. He was lucky to have connections and friends all over the local music scene who helped him out when he needed it.

He was lucky to have met Marinette.

Luka had spent a long time wondering after his plans to tour with the band went to hell in a handbasket. About whether his friends had ever really been friends. About how much of his relationship with Casey had been a lie. Had they all been users from the start, and he just hadn’t seen it? Or had their friendship been sincere, had they been content with the plan, until Xavier had come in and dazzled them with promises of something greater? Had Casey been satisfied in their relationship until Xavier was whispering in her ear about what she deserved, how she ought to be treated, and who knew what else Luka hadn’t been around to hear?

It took a lot of thinking, a lot of sad and angry songs played on borrowed guitars that never sounded quite right, a lot of long talks with his mother, and even a few with his sister, to get him out of the spiral of self-recrimination and get his focus back on the future, on what he had to do next.

Luka hadn’t been thinking about fate or destiny or karma or even luck when he looked into Ladybug’s stunning blue eyes for the first time and shook her small hand. Oh, he’d been impressed with her from the beginning. Her entire vibe was intense and alive and she was sassy and competitive without being cruel, and she was really, really cute. But romance couldn’t have been farther from his mind at that moment.

Then she kept being thrown in his way, spirited and determined and clearly attracted to him. Marinette had a terrible poker face, and some part of him was delighted by her blushes and glances, but he squashed down the remnant of that ugly duckling teenage boy and kept his cool. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, he wasn’t interested in a fling, and he wasn’t about to lead her on just to flatter his vanity. She dealt with enough bullshit already, so he tried to show her he liked and respected her without letting it go any further.

Luka kept his cool right up until she was standing there, tough as nails, cute as a button, trying and utterly failing to cover up what a blow it was to have to forfeit an entire event’s worth of matches, knowing it would more than likely knock them out of the running for the finals. Marinette’s frustration was obvious, as was her care for her friend and her determination not to blame him.

In hindsight Luka wasn’t sure if Marinette was lucky, or he was, that he was there in that moment, ready to swoop in and save the day with his impulsive decision to stand in for Max. He’d had no idea what he was getting into. Playing with her was a blast, but he already knew she was smart and capable and powerful. He could handle Ladybug.

He was completely unprepared for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the beating heart and passionate spirit behind that tough gamer girl front she put on.

Luka knew he was in trouble when he left the bakery with weak knees and a frantically beating heart.

He knew he was in deep trouble when she was sewing his hoodie on the Liberty and he began thoughtlessly composing a song to fit her.

He knew he was doomed when she stood on the gangplank practically glowing with the sun behind her, looking at him with those big gorgeous eyes, her perfect lips curved into a sweet smile, and all the warmth of their easy companionship still fresh in his heart.

Still, Luka had hesitated, willing to explore a tentative friendship with her but telling himself he wasn’t ready for anything more. He didn’t trust the attraction he felt towards her. Her crush on him might not even be that serious. He shouldn’t read too much into it. He would just go and compete and they would go back to being casual acquaintances and…

And then she’d taken that first step after him, reached out to him despite her obvious fear, almost expectation that he would reject her, and opened the door to so much more.

And now he had a beautiful, impossibly sweet, deliciously passionate, insanely brilliant girlfriend with a creative mind like nothing he’d ever seen, and he was the most lovestruck, useless sap on the planet. Marinette was as dramatic as Casey had ever been, but even her drama was comfortable, accommodating, nothing she ever expected him to solve or eliminate. He just stood back and sympathized as she ranted and fumed and had her dramatic movement and then she moved on to actually solving the problem. She was incredibly driven, incredibly kind, and no matter how much time they spent together, he never wished it was less. Maybe Marinette wasn’t a musician but she was an artist, and she always seemed to know how to give him the space to pursue his own passions without ever being out of reach and every time he was with her he felt like the luckiest dumbass on the planet, whether they were doing something together or just existing near each other as they did their own thing.

Or making out. Oh Marinette was a fantastic kisser, sweet and attentive and exciting, tuned in to his every reaction. The height difference took some getting used to, but before long he found that he loved the way she fitted against him, the way he could curl around her, how small her hands were in his, how big his own looked on her hips or her back. She had learned impressively quickly how to tempt him into taking charge or reduce him to a pile of goo. And she made the best sounds when he returned the favor.

Focus, Luka , he told himself as he opened the door to the bakery. He’d already been on the receiving end of one gentle, if mildly embarrassing, reminder from her mother that Marinette was eighteen and could make her own choices, but that she was still younger than him and he should be cautious about pushing her into things she might not be ready for. Sabine had been so mild about it that Luka couldn’t really feel insulted, though Marinette would probably be mortified if she knew her mother had said any such thing to him.

Still. Better not to have those kinds of thoughts in his mind just now. Luka always came into the house through the bakery so that they knew he was there, mostly as a courtesy (and partly so they would know to knock before barging into Marinette’s room). He greeted Sabine and waved at Tom in the back, then went on up the stairs.

Luka knocked on the apartment door but went ahead and let himself in, not expecting her to hear him if she was up in her room.

Marinette wasn’t in her room, as it turned out, but in the kitchen, singing to herself as she flitted back and forth in the small space. She waved at him and he grinned, setting his bag down on the couch and coming over to her. “You came,” she smiled, stretching up on her toes as he leaned down to meet her for a quick kiss.

“You asked me to,” he pointed out, choking back a laugh at the memory of Juleka’s teasing.

Marinette ignored him, and Luka waited until she had set down whatever mysterious baking implements she was holding before catching her wrist and pulling her close. Marinette hummed happily as he leaned down to kiss her more fully, resting her forearms on his shoulders but keeping her flour-covered hands away from him.

Not that he would have cared. He was more than happy to let her cover him in flour paste if it meant she was holding him. This was good enough for now, though, as long as her plush lips were under his. She’d clearly been nibbling on whatever she was making and she tasted amazing.

Marinette pulled back a little when he tried to press close to her. “Don’t, I’m dirty,” she whispered, and Luka couldn’t help laughing even as a twinge of heat shot through him. Marinette backed away from him and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he grinned at her. “Juleka was picking on me before I left and it’s got my mind in the gutter.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and then she blushed and pouted as she thought back to what she’d said. “Juleka should keep her mouth shut,” she grumbled, turning away from him to wash her hands.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Luka chuckled, putting his hands on her hips and stepping up so her back, which was mostly clean, was against his chest. “Why are you stress baking?” he asked, and leaned down to trail kisses along the side of her neck.

“What makes you think I’m stress b-baking?” she asked, tilting her head, breath hitching slightly as she reached blindly for a towel that was well out of her reach.

“Mmm.” Luka reached out and snagged the towel off of the oven handle easily, putting it in her hand. Then he lifted his face and looked pointedly at the mess around them, and then back down at her. “When you’re baking from a project, you’re super organized and everything is set out carefully. You only make this kind of a mess—” He gestured down at the pile of baking dishes in the sink and then at the haphazard collection of ingredients crowded on the small counter. “—when you’re stress baking.” He returned to her neck, pressing a kiss to the hinge of her jaw. “So tell me why you’re stressed, and how I can help make it better.”

Marinette huffed and shoved an elbow back into him. “It’s your fault to begin with,” she muttered, and Luka straightened immediately, frowning.

“Me?”

Marinette sighed. “Yeah, I—” She blew out a sigh and pulled away from him, turning around to face him. “I just, I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“That sounds ominous,” Luka said slowly, shifting back a little.

Marinette put her hands over her face and made a frustrated noise. “No, it’s not that bad, I’m—I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

Luka coughed to cover the laugh that he couldn’t quite keep in, and it was a supreme act of will to say nothing.

Marinette dropped her hands and glared at him, clearly knowing what he was thinking, and reached back to untie her apron with quick, decisive movements (which shouldn’t have affected him the way it did, damnit Juleka). Once it was off, she grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the kitchen behind her. “Shouldn’t we clean up?” he asked, glancing back with concern.

“We’ll do it later,” Marinette said.

“But your baking—”

“I just put the dough in the fridge to chill, it’s fine,” she said, pulling him up the stairs to her room.

Luka couldn’t say he hated where this was going but he was pretty confused. He followed Marinette up into her room, where she let go of his hand and kept walking. Taking that as his cue to stay put, Luka shut the trapdoor gently behind them and nudged the lock into place with his foot. Just in case.

“Well. I, um...I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this,” Marinette was saying, bending over a large chest in the corner of her room to get at something behind it, and Luka had to look at the floor. “And I want you to know I had nothing to do with it—well, I mean not nothing, because I did tell Jagged something about what happened with, you know, before, with XY and how he stole your music, but I didn’t use any names and I kept everything really general, it’s just I was thinking about it while I was working on his fitting and I guess I was making a mad face and he wanted to know what I was thinking about and, well I know it’s not my story to tell so I—but Jagged is so—so—” she paused, making a grunt of effort as she hauled something up and over the chest.

“Okay, I only followed about half of that,” Luka said as evenly as he could, glancing up from his determined study of the toes of his boots just as Marinette turned to him, both hands wrapped around the handle of a heavy black case that was...very familiar in shape.

Luka looked from the guitar case in her hands to her face, uncomprehending. Marinette shrugged, and bit her lip, shuffling across the floor towards him. “It’s for you. From Jagged. Take it,” she muttered, blushing.

That stunned him speechless. Luka took the case from her on autopilot, crossing the room to lay it on the chaise and flip up the latches as Marinette began babbling again, insisting that she didn’t deserve the credit (or the blame) for this, and then he opened the case lid and felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Marinette shoved a chair under him just in time as his knees went weak and he sat down, bringing one hand to cover his mouth as he stared down at the sleek professional quality acoustic guitar in front of him. It was black, with Jagged Stone’s logo emblazoned off-center on the lower half in purple.

“It’s from the new line he’s sponsoring,” Marinette said uncomfortably, shifting her feet. “Not released yet,” she added quickly, before he could gather his wits enough to question her. “They sent it to him to demo and approve, and well...once he played it and decided it was good enough he gave it to me, to give to you. He said a pro should have both kinds. Which is weird, really, because I’ve never seen him play anything but an electric, but...” She cringed as Luka’s fingers hovered over the unmistakable signature scrawled up one side in some kind of glitter ink. “He insisted on signing it. I hope that’s okay.” She reached forward and plucked a note tucked into a pocket of the case and handed it to him.

Luka took it absently, still staring. He touched the guitar lightly, taking in the silky texture of the finish and the quality of the wood, the elegant shape, the gleaming hardware. It was beautiful. He loved Claire, he really did, but sometimes you needed a different sound for different songs—

His brain screeched to a halt. A different sound. A different sound.

Marinette nudged him, startling him out of his thoughts. He unfolded the note.

Hey kid, he read, I heard your story. Wanna be’s always hate the real deal, and you’re it. I wouldn’t blame you if you want to keep things to yourself for a while, but I’d love to hear what those songs were meant to sound like before that baby-faced nobody murdered them. If you’ve got more to share, Marinette’s got my number.

Rock ‘n roll!

Jagged Stone

P.S. Fuck with my girl and I’ll stick this guitar where the sun don’t shine, and that’s just for starters.

He looked up at Marinette, and she fidgeted. “You don’t have to take it,” she said weakly.

There were about a thousand things he could have said at that moment, but what came out was, “Is this why you asked me not to bring Claire?”

Marinette shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t know if she was the jealous type.”

Luka chuckled. Marinette always seemed fondly exasperated with his tendency to anthropomorphize his instruments, skeptical but indulgent, willing to play along without actually trying to compete with an inanimate object (one of Casey’s more annoying habits).

“So...is it okay? You’re not...mad?” she asked, and Luka laughed weakly.

“I’m not mad,” he said, leaning back and reaching for her. She let him pull her over and sit her on his knee. “It’s amazing, Marinette, really.” He squeezed her, and trying hard not to sound like a total fanboy, asked, “Jagged really played it himself?”

“He did,” Marinette confirmed. “For over an hour. First time I’ve ever heard him play an acoustic, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda sorry I missed that,” he said, leaning into her as she put her arms around him. “Jagged Stone.” He looked at the paper in his hand and shook his head slightly. “He wants to hear my music? Wow, Marinette, this is just...I’m speechless.”

“I told you, I didn’t do anything,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his neck. “I shouldn’t even have said anything to him without your permission, I just...I was distracted fitting the jacket, and I didn’t even realize I’d said it until he screamed ‘I knew that little shit didn’t have that kind of talent!’ and I nearly jumped out of my skin.”

Luka laughed and kissed her hair, and he felt her lips curve against his skin. “Did he really say that?”

“Mmhm,” she said, responding to his nudges against her temple by lifting her face so he could kiss her. He took his time about it, savoring her soft lips and the smooth, soft skin under his thumb as he stroked her cheek. Marinette’s hands slipped under his hoodie and he gladly shifted so she could push it down his arms and off, feeling more than a little warm as it was. His hand went to her waist instead of her face, slipping under her shirt to settle against her abs where he could feel the rippling muscle beneath the slight softness as she moved. He didn’t even know that was a thing for him until he met Marinette and now he couldn’t get enough of it. It was just more luck for him that she liked his rough hands against her skin. Her hands slid up and down his chest and over his shoulders and arms and he pressed into her touch with a little moan.

Luka loved that she understood that about him, how much he craved the connection of touch. Even before they were together, it had been a struggle to keep his hands to himself as they grew closer. The night of the party, up on the roof, he’d been so lost in a confusing whirl of emotion that he nearly felt sick, and her small, strong arms around him had grounded him, soothed him, without him even having to ask. She’d been amazing that night, beautiful and fun and temptation itself as they danced, and fire and fury as she defended him and Juleka both, and gentle and comforting when he needed her.

Somewhere in that confusing ball of emotion it had suddenly dawned on him, with the clarity and sharpness of cut glass, that he would be an idiot to let her go, if she still wanted him. He was so lucky that she’d waited for him, that she’d had the patience to let him go and settle things with Casey, that she’d decided he was worth steeling her courage and facing up to the memory of whatever idiot had hurt her in the past. It was hard, waiting that last week, unsure and nervous but choosing to trust her, and choosing to trust his own instincts again—instincts that were telling him whatever you do, don’t let this one go. But she’d waited on him for far longer, so he could hardly refuse to wait for her. And it was...so worth it.

He was so, so lucky.

“So, are you going to try it out?” Marinette asked, bringing him back to the moment. Her hands were still flexing against him and she was kiss-bruised and ruffled and breathless and God he had never been less interested in a new guitar, he was so stupid for her, he half-expected violins and rose petals and fucking rainbows and unicorns every time they were together. She blinked slowly, smile shifting into a smirk, and Luka swallowed hard.

Focus.

“Only if you get off my lap,” he told her, voice a little rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat as Marinette giggled and slid off his knee.

“What are you going to call this one?” Marinette asked, amusement plain in her face.

“I don’t know,” Luka said, lifting the guitar out of the case. He noticed with amusement the strap, and glanced knowingly up at Marinette. She blushed and shrugged, looking away.

“It had that skinny kind you don’t like,” she mumbled, “So I made a new one.”

“I love it,” Luka grinned, unreasonably pleased by her fancy signature in gold embroidery on the inside of the strap. It took him a moment to get his stupid grin under control and slip the strap over his shoulder.

He ran long fingers over the neck and body lightly. “I have to get to know them before I can name them,” he continued. Luka set his fingers and then strummed slowly down the strings, but he winced at the sound. He worked on the tuning, noting the silky feel of the wood under his hands, the way he hardly had to adjust his hands at all, like the guitar had been made for him. When the strings were in tune he strummed slowly down them again, and this time the sound was…

His pulse increased, and he glanced up at Marinette. “I’ve been working on something,” he said. “I wanted you to hear it, but it wasn’t quite right. I think I’d like to try it now, if that’s okay.”

“Oh,” Marinette blinked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Of course.”

Luka moved the guitar case and slid onto the chaise, patting the spot next to him. Marinette sat down, fidgeting with her fingers and watching him with gratifying anticipation. It always gave him a thrill, to see how eager she was to hear him play.

Luka set his fingers on the fretboard again, took a settling breath, and played the song he’d been crafting and refining in his mind since the day she came to practice at the boat.

Marinette gasped quietly, and laid her hand over her heart, closing her eyes. Luka let his own lids fall as he played, though the instrument wasn’t quite familiar enough yet for him to close them all the way.

He knew as soon as he began that he wasn’t wrong, that this was what he’d been missing and trying to find all this time. The melody was just right, but the sound had been off. Ladybug might be the jangling twang and sassy attitude of the electric, flashy and exciting, but Marinette...Marinette was the mellow, sweet sound of the acoustic, authentic and sincere. Simple, but quality, resonating with craftsmanship and passion and warmth. He took a shaky breath as he listened to the last chord resonate and fade away, and then lifted his eyes to hers.

She swallowed at the look he was giving her, and then whispered, “How was it?”

“Perfect,” he breathed, gazing at her with all the wonder and love she inspired in him. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Great,” she said breathlessly. “Now put it down.”

Luka did, setting it carefully in its case, and before he’d even straightened up all the way Marinette was crawling onto him. She straddled his lap and took his face in her hands, as she kissed him hard, drawing an answering passion from him. Luka wrapped his arms around her, drawing her as close as he could get her, overwhelmed and overflowing with feelings he couldn’t contain or ignore.

He wanted to be sure she understood, though. He’d been told before that some things had to be said out loud, and Luka didn’t want to mess this up.

“Hey,” he mumbled, as soon as he had space to, but Marinette was kissing him again before he could get any more out. She made an inquisitive noise, moving her kisses to his jaw so he could speak, but Luka pulled back gently, just enough to be able to look her in the eye—in those beautiful, breathtaking eyes, and he had to swallow hard before he could speak. “I love you,” he breathed, and Marinette’s smile shone like the sun.

“I know, silly,” she said, rubbing her nose along his, and then she nodded at the guitar. “I heard you the first time.”

He felt the slow, stupid grin spreading across his face.

It made Marinette blush from her collar to her hairline, and she kissed him again fiercely. “I can’t say it as beautifully as you did,” she whispered against his lips, “But I love you too.” Then she yelped as Luka moved suddenly, dumping her off his lap back onto the chaise. Marinette moved back against the arm, shifting to accommodate him automatically as he crawled over her; by now they had plenty of practice arranging themselves in the small space.

“Is this all right?” Luka asked, even as she was running her hands appreciatively over his arms braced on either side of her.

“It’s perfect,” she sighed, leaning up to meet him as he kissed her, intent on showing her just how lucky he felt to know her, to hold her, to love her.

It was totally worth the lecture they got from Tom for leaving a mess in the kitchen.

#quickspins #killer combo #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #reverse crush #gamer au #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug

76 notes · View notes

imma-potatoo · 3 years

Text

I HAD TOO

I AM NOT SORRY AT ALL @superwholockandpfl

This is once again written for my friend k.c.cosplay on tiktok! Once again, amazing cosplays 💙💛💙💛💙💛💙

Same universe then this fic

*Logan is a dark side*

Ships: Loceit, parental logicality, parental anxceit

Warnings: none that I know of? Let me know if you want me to tag something

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Perseus and Andromeda

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Logan and Janus stood in front of the other four. Smiles completely coated their faces as they both held out their left hands. Janus holding Logan's bicep with his right hand.

Rings. On both of them.

"You- you got married?" Patton's voice was timid. He didn't expect this day to come. But he currently wanted his father-son dance with Logan

Janus and Logan's faces quickly turned to shock. "What?! No! We're engaged! These are engagement rings daa-- Patton!" Logan blushed at the almost use of Pattons old title. Not that Logan didn't view Patton as a father figure -far from it, Janus and him were the youngest sides- but calling someone dad while you are practically the same age and completely imaginary is quite weird in his opinion but I mean-

"My love, your zoning out again."

Logan could hear the amusement in his fiance's voice. Squeezing Janus' hand slightly; Logan cleared his thoat, "What was that question again?"

Roman was slightly laughing before Remus elbowed him in the ribs, "OW REM-" "Roman sh! Do you have a date picked out yet?" Virgil had a hopeful shimmer in his eyes

Logan and Janus looked at eachother briefly, "Not really, to be honest" Janus laughed slightly. "He just asked me last night," a lose curl falling from behind the yellow sides ear. Logan quickly catching it to tuck it back to its rightful place

The sides migranted over to couch. They had a feeling that they'll be talking for a while.

"Any ideas on a theme yet?" Roman was bouncing enthusiastically, hands tight fisted on the couch. A huge ear to ear grin spread on his face

Logan hummed, thinking back to a precious conversation, "We're thinking victorian or dark academia. But we're open to any suggestions!" his hand was tracing circles over and over on Janus' back.

Roman jumped off the couch. Bouncing up and down over and over and over, "FEAR NOT MY BELOVED FRIENDS! I will help you plan it!"

Romans eyes sparkled rapidly. Grin glowing like wild, he paused for a second or two before gasping, "WE COULD HAVE IT IN A HUGE GOLDEN BALLROOM! With crystal plates! And a hundred foot tall cake! An-"

It was at that point where the blue and yellow sides completely zoned out to Romans tangent.

The newly engaged couple gave eachother a look. This look said a lot of things. But mainly 'are we seriously going to let a side who thinks throwing glitter at random objects equels fashion. Complete control of our wedding?' that look. Its a very very specific look. But its a very obvious look.

The red creativity seemed to notice the couples glazed over eyes and blank expression. So he quickly stopped his rant to add on a rather important detail, "I mean... If you guys want me to help. Its completely ok if you don't!! I mean, its ok, I just-"

"Roman for the love of all things holy. Please stop talking." Logan was rubbing his temple with his free hand, "We would love to have you help plan our wedding. But we don't need a ballroom, or crystal plates, or any fancy fairy tale type things." He squeezed Janus' hand with a bright grin, "We just need eachother."

Roman's dramatic pose and extreme tangent faltered. He paused. Seeming to process the information. Before a small grin took his face. "then thats what you two will have."

Janus moved his gaze from Roman to the green twin... Looking at the floor.... With a pout that could kill a god.... Looking very non-Remus esq.

"Remus, do you also want to help plan our wedding?"

In the span of a second, Remus' face bounced between 50 different emotions before settling on complete and utter happiness, "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD NEVER ASK MY AMAZING DOUBLE D-"

Patton slapped his hand over Remus' mouth, "lets not talk about my future son-in-law like that! eeewwwWWWWWW!!! ROMAN HE LICKED MY HAND!!" Patton snapped his hand away as soon as he put it on.

Laughter filled the rest of the night... And quite a bit of wine.

------2 mouths later-----

Logan grumbled as he threw another crumpled piece of paper against the desk. Elbows on the desk, hands pressing into his eyes.

His supposed vows were going amazingly. Completely. Totally. A hundred percent. Amazing....... Oh who was he kidding? His vows were going terribly.

Not from lack of love or anything absolutely ridiculous like that. He loved Janus more then the stars, moon and galaxies combined. He loved everything about Janus.

He loved Janus' snark. He loved the way his eyes glowed when they watched a movie. Or how Janus' voice drips like steeped honey and smoked chives. Or how his snake eye dilates when he's happy. Or when he gets excited and talks for hours and hours about a philosopher or a certain myth that sparked his interest or reminded him of their relationship-

Thats it.

The last myth that Janus was talking about was Perseus and Andromeda.

Andromeda was to be sacrificed to save her kingdom because her mother boasted about her beauty to the nererids. The nererids told their father, Poseidon, and as revenge; Poseidon sent a sea monster to ravenge the kingdom. Perseus, the hero who slayed Medusa, saw Andromeda chained to the stone and slayed the sea monster. After saving her, he took her hand in marriage.

It was far from their love story. Far far from their love story. But...

The way his eyes lit up.

Logan could get drunk on that look. He could live off that look alone for the rest of his life. Oh and that smile

Logan takes his head out of his hands. Mouth agape.

He had an idea

---------

Janus had been hitting his head against his desk for hours.

Janus could write millions of speeches, and could convince armys to do his bidding, and he could use empty words to get his desires.

But these damn vows.

Janus supposes that its because he isn't used to truth. But he wants too! But the truth seems to be avoiding him more then mouse with a cat.

Logan likes cats, he could never get one before because Patton's allergic. Should he even call Patton by his name? Wouldn't he call him dad now?

He allowed his mind to wonder for a short period of time. Elbows on the desk, hands pressing into his eyes.

This needs to be the truth and its not like he's low on love for Logan. Far far from it

They met when they were younger. Really really younger. He doesn't even remember it. But according to Virgil, Logan and him stared at eachother for five minutes before actually talking to eachother -more like babbling- after that they were practically inseparable. They did everything together apparently. Then they stayed friends for a long time. They barely even talked to eachother by the time that he introduced himself to Thomas. But...

But then Logan became a dark side. Logan started to unbutton the top of his polo. Logan stopped wearing the tie. Logan started to wear ice blue makeup. The Logan he knew as a child came back.

The Logan who loved science, bugs and books. Who loved ranting about old dead philosophers and Janus loved to listen. Logan loved old libraries and classical music. The Logan that used to watch Bill Nye as a child and knows the theme song by heart. The Logan that loved old myths and stories. The Logan who would go outside to the imagination and watch the stars and constellations for hours. His Logan

His favourite constellation was Perseus-

He has an idea.

----The Wedding Day----

Janus adjusted his suit for probably the millionth time. Running his fingers through his hair, attempting to make it lay properly. But only making the curls more wild.

Grumbling obscurities while trying to smooth down his damn hair, he heard low chuckles behind him.

"You know your only gonna make it worse, right Jan?" Virgil was leaning against the wall. His own hair absolutely perfect.

Janus sighed, "I know dad. But I just want my damn hair to lay properly for once! This is why I wear my damn hat-" the chuckles turned into full laughter.

"Logan will love you, no matter how your hair looks," Virgil stood up straight (HA) and walked over to Janus

He took a comb and started to go through his hair. Janus stopped growing by the time he was fifteen, so he was maybe at shoulder height with Virgil. "You need to stop worrying so much, and thats coming from me. Lo loves you more then the sun itself. Don't worry about something as silly as your hair."

Janus watched from the floor to ceiling mirror as Virgil expertly calmed down the mess of his hair.

Meanwhile.....

"Patton please stop crying. Your going to stain my suit-"

"BUT MY BABY'S GETTING MARRIED!!!" tears were still leaking down his face. He's been doing this since he came into the room -which was about twenty minutes ago-

Logan sighed, a smile apparent on his face as he patted his father figure on the back. "I know." he straightened his bowtie slightly in the mirror, "I just love him so much dad," Patton sat down in one of the dressing room chairs. A smile covering his entire face.

"Jan isn't really one to cry. But when I proposed to him? Tears just started leaking. I thought he was upset, so I went to comfort him," blush growing on his cheeks, "then he kissed me and looked me directly in the eyes and said yes." Logan felt a huge grin spreading on his cheeks against his will. He looked out of the mirror and back to his father. "He said yes."

Patton stood up from his seat and put his hands on Logan's shoulders, "and now its your wedding day. You two are going to get married and live out your lives being complete loveable nerds as you talk about philosophy and the stars and things I could never understand. You two are absolutely perfect for eachother and I can't wait to see where you two go next." while tears still shone in his eyes, the smile showed that they were of happiness.

They stared at eachother for a few minutes. Patton nitpicking small details to fix on Logan's suit.

"Janus the one walking down the isle right?"

Logan laughed softly, "yeah, he said it was a more dramatic entrance. Thats my future husband, right there"

Patton looked a little puzzled, "Can you even call him your future husband if the ceremony is starting in less then ten?"

"I mean, technically thats in the futur- wait. How much time was left?"

Patton blinked. Looking in the eyes of his son, "Ten minutes."

A look of panic shot through Logan. "We have to go!"

Logan grabbed Patton's hand. Pulling him out to the room. The celebration hall was stunning

It was outside, circle tables scattered around the clearing like the stars above scattered in the sky. A banquet table for the newly weds, their parents and their best men. The altar was covered in delicate fairy lights illuminating a soft glow. The shimmering stars above their heads shone brighter the usual. The constellations of Perseus and Andromeda were by far the brightest.

Logan stopped in his tirade to the altar. And simply looked at the brilliant view that the twins had put together for them.

For once in his life. Logan was speechless.

"They did a good job right?!?"

Logan was still looking around the meadow, amazed at every tiny detail. From the black dahilas that Remus insisted on including because of the famous unsolved murder, to the fairy lights climbing up the pillers that was no doubt Roman's doing.

"Its beautiful... How di-"

"The twins are a very creative bunch, kiddo!! We have five minutes until your wonderful groom comes out!" The other guests were starting to fill the room as Logan took his place at the altar. It was mostly figments that Thomas had made. Emile, Remy, The Critic, etc. They all took their seats and watched the meadow.

Logan walked over to his place next to the altar. Hands fidgety and resisting the urge to mess with the hair that he spent so long combing down. Roman stood at his side, while Remus waited at the other side of the altar for Janus. Before he knew it the music started to play, the quests rose from their seats, he felt his desire to stand straight. But none of those compared to when Janus walked into the room.

Janus walked in with Virgil latched on to his arm. A periwinkle blossem on the left of his chest. He still had his yellow gloves on -he really hated taking them off. Without the gloves, Janus couldn't lie- but he was without his hat. He was in a black tux with a yellow bowtie.

Logan couldn't think of anything else more beautiful. Logan couldn't think of anyone more beautiful then the side in front of him. Logan couldn't help the gigantic, ear to ear smile as Janus arrived at the altar and took his hands in his own.

The officiant -Who Roman just summoned from the imagination- cleared his voice and spoke to the whole room of people, "Friends and Family, we are gathered here today to connect two side's hearts and souls through this ceremony.

Logic Logan Sanders, Do you take this side to love and to hold, to protect and charish and to adore until the end of your lives?"

His smile growing wider, eyes sparkling with deep love and affection; Logan gazed into Janus' eyes, lightly squeezing his hands. "More then the sun and the stars."

The officiant smiled slightly before turning to Janus. "Deceit Janus Sanders, Do you take this side to love and hold, to protect and charish and to adore until the end of your lives?"

Tears shone throughout Janus' eyes. He removed his hands from Logans and for a second the blue side felt his heart drop, only for it to swell when he sees Janus remove his gloves and place his hands back in Logans. "More then every lie, secret and promise I have ever made."

The officiant turned back to Logan, "Please say your vows."

Logan felt his heart throb as he opened his mouth,

"Janus. In the very very long time that I have known you, I find myself falling more in love with you every day. I love how you laugh. I love how when you're tired you curl up to my side. I love how you stay by my side through it all. My translation from a light side to dark, my learning cerve to our new family, every dilemma from the others that we have to enviably fix.

Every night, every day, every hour, every minute, every second. You occupy my mind. And god Janus, I never want you to leave it.

I love you. I love you more then Perseus loved Andromeda." Logan's eyes were shining with unshed tears, he lightly squeezed Janus' hands. "I love you Janus and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

The officiant nodded, then he turned to Janus. "Please speak your vows."

Janus drew a shaky breath before speaking.

"Logan, I honestly don't remember when we met. You were my only constant, the unchanging variable that I could always fall back on. You were always there for me and I want to always be there for you.

I love you more then anything Logan. The way you light up when a new documentary comes out, drives butterflies to my stomach. When you laugh, I get lightheaded. When you smile, I get bolts of electricity to my heart. When you take me to the imagination for a date among the stars, I get so love drunk that things get dizzy. When you took me to our favourite place and got on one knee, I cried tears of joy.

There is nothing that I don't love about you. I've always found honest words hard to process. But believe me when I say that I've said no lies to you. You are the one person I will never lie to. I love you more then Andromeda loved Perseus," Janus looked up at Logan. The height difference apparent, but he smiled like he never smiled before. "I love you Logan. And I cannot wait to call you my husband."

The two sides gave eachother looked at eachother with pure adoration and love.

"Please put these rings on eachother."

They could hear Patton's loud sobs in the background as they slipped on the rings.

The officiant smiled wide, "I now pronounce you, Husband and Husband! You may now kiss your groom!"

They flew together like magnets. Logan grabbed the side of Janus' face to pull him closer, the earthy smell of cloves and plums filling his senses. Janus held Logan's arms and pulled him towards him. The kiss was far from chaste, but they pulled apart not long after to be met with......

"NOW YOU GOTTA STRIP AND FU-- OW ROMAN!!"

"NOT AT THE WEDDING YOU BABOON!"

The twins were a very chaotic bunch...

The wedding continued perfectly as planned. Then it came to the father-son dances.

Virgil as Janus were doing well. Virgil was giving Janus his best wishes and telling him how proud he was if him.

Patton and Logan??

Patton always cries at wedding to say the least...

Then it was their turn to dance.

Logan took his husbands hand and led him to the dance floor. It was lit by only fairy lights and the extra bright stars. They twirled and spinned and danced like they was only the two there.

The two battled for the lead before Logan won. Hand now in the swell of Janus' back and leading him in a very elaborate ballroom dance. Janus' scales glowing a bright yellow. Even over the music you could hear their laughter.

Patton and Virgil stood on the sidelines. Watching as their children had their fun. Virgil hummed slightly, "you owe me twenty bucks Patt."

Patton was very confused, he hadn't made any new bets recently or borrowed any money. "Why is that kiddo?"

Virgil turned and looked at Patton, "Ten years ago, you bet me that Lo and Jan would never get married. You owe me a twenty."

Patton grumbled slightly as he pulled a bill from his jacket pocket and handed it over. "This is the best bet I've ever lost then."

Virgil laughed, purple beginning to dust under his eyes. "You got that right," He took two glasses of champagne from the waiters walking by, "To our beloved children?"

Patton took the glass and raised it with Virgil. "To our beloved children." they then took a long sip and continued to watch as the couple danced.

The stars shining above, the moon full. They loved eachother more then Perseus and Andromeda.

-------

I. REGRET. NOTHING!!!

I also have 0 self control soo

The charcters are very ooc... But I don't overly care.

💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛

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lucifer-lacroix · 4 years

Text

Interview With a Witcher Chapter 2

Geraskier - Fanfic - Romance - Fantasy - Netflix Series - Wild Hunt - Future Plot - Ravenloft

(For Chapter 1 go here)

Geralt rode up to the castle that Jaskier had circled his map of Novigrad. Out on the far coast of the western reaches, a once-abandoned castle was in the middle of being rebuilt. Blanketed construction scaffold lined the wall while dozens of men brick and repair the stonework. A new settlement of families had moved in, and there were large dogs who ran around with kids in the late hours of the afternoon. The dinner bell rang in the distance as Geralt rode through the homes towards the castle. About three hundred meters off Jaskier came around the bend with sweat dripping from his brow and he struggled to catch his breath. He ran the entire way by hopping fences and using a shortcut to catch up to Geralt who was now in eyesight. By the time Jaskier had reached village his legs were ready to give out as he leaned against a tree trying before he could continue.

“Halt!" A guard dressed in black armour stopped Roach before she could step onto the bridge. "You have arrived at Castle Ravenloft. What is your business with his Majesty King La’Croix of Ferelden." The knight addressed Geralt with a salute. "I’m here on behalf of Julian Alfred Pankratz... Viscount of… Lettenhove, the owner of the Chameleon. The theatre wishes to personally invite his ...highness to the next show." Geralt nodded to the guard after stumbling over the name. "Sir Eckhart will show you the way." The guard motioned Geralt to cross the bridge where a man sat on horseback wearing midnight armour and a violet caplet on his shoulder.

As Geralt crossed the bridge, he felt his heart beating in his throat as Roach came to a stop in front of the black knight. "Sir Witcher." The black knight removed his helm and revealed himself to be a man with raven hair and tipped ears. "His Majesty bids you welcome. I am Sir Nathanial Eckhart, Knight commander and personal guard to his majesty Lucifer La’Croix King of Ferelden who is here fleeing from the blight with his people. If you pose a threat to his grace or his guests, I have authority granted to me upon King Radovid V ruler of Redania to strike you down where you stand. Are we clear?" "Crystal." Geralt replied as he was lead towards the stable up the mountain trail.

Jaskier had finally caught his breath and took off running once again. Once he reached the gate he was just in time to see Geralt be led away by a knight. Jaskier cursed “Shit Balls fuck! Dammit! Geralt!” Jaskier quickly approached the bridge sliding to a stop. “Halt!” the guard said, “What business do you have at Castle Ravenloft?” Jaskier gave a small flourish, “I have come to invite the King my magnum opus performance The Princess and the Frog live on stage in three days time at the Chameleon. Forgive my friend he seems to have arrived before me and didn’t bother to wait for me. So hard to find good help these days.” The guard looked over the exhausted-looking mess which was Jaskier as he ranted. His hair mussed, and his skin clammy and red. The bolero he was wearing under his arm, with the top few buttons of his shirt undone.

The guard waved to the battlements above as a man with a crossbow ducked out of view. “You will have to come back…” The guard started to turn him away when Jaskier started protesting. “Wait, wait! I am a Viscount of Lettenhove. I am the proprietor of the Chameleon. Please let me prove to his royal highness that I am indeed the greatest bard that will ever rejoice his name.” The guard hesitated and looked away for a moment before lowering his spear. “Go a head.” He said and let Jaskier through with a wary glance. “You will wait for Sir Lionheart to lead you inside.” The guard looked up to the battlements again and waved. A teenager ran down the stairs and appeared a few moments later wearing scouts armour and a purple caplet “Sir…” the boy had a sour pout on his face as he walked up to the Jaskier. He had long raven hair tied in a ponytail, and youthful looks but walked about with a scowl as if someone had to spit in his waterskin. “So you’re the famous bard Dandelion?” Sir Lionheart asked. “You’re pretty old looking.”

Geralt and Roach followed Sir Eckhart in eerie silence, no questions or resistance into his person or his goals as Geralt stared at the silver sigil on Sir Eckhearts back. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice behind him, slowing Roach down to listen. Before he could focus, Geralt spotted a man with a crossbow pointed at him from the battlements. “Keep moving.” Sir Eckhart spoke, breaking the silence between them. “Not a very nice way to greet a guest…” Geralt spoke and stopped the horse as the Knight turned around and drew his sword. “You are no guest. You are a witcher who threatens this castle. March.” Sir Eckhart sat tall on his horse sword at the ready, making Geralt sweat. A fight was not what he expected and when Geralt tried to draw his sword he heard Jaskier close by.

Jaskier followed behind Sir Lionheart. “Hey! It’s seems as if there is a misunderstanding, I know the King he came to my show last month!” Jaskier over sharing as he fluttered around the knight. “I apologize for my friend barging in without—- ” Jaskier noticed a glimpse of silver-white hair ahead of him. “GERALT!” He called out. “Jaskier what are you doing here?” Geralt asked and jumped off of Roach. If he was going to be shot, he didn’t want her caught in the crossfire. “Get on Roach and go.” Geralt said sternly. “I shouldn’t have come alone, but it’s too late.” he tried to speak, but Sir Lionheart drew a knife and pointed it at Jaskier’s neck from behind. “Not a step further. You will deliver your invitations in person. You know, because you’re so chummy with the King” Sir Lionheart threatened.

“The Witcher and The Bard will both be greeting his Majesty this late evening. We will see if you are telling the truth. Put down your weapons, you are surrounded.” Sir Eckhart spoke loudly to catch his attention. “I pray you mean no harm, or else we will be forced to ensure the safety of our own.” Nathanial said as Geralt and Jaskier shared a worried glance. Although directed to surrender his weapons Geralt did not remove the swords from his back. “No thanks, I will keep them sheathed but you aren’t touching them,” he replied.

In the main hall of the castle, a line of wine casks lined up along the wall each one the size of an elephant. Halfway down the foyer standing in front of a cask draped with red cloth sitting under a magnificent stained glass window stood a man wearing midnight blue evening robes, his long raven hair falling past his waist and tumbled into soft curls. It had been a while since he had last shaved and his balbo styled goatee was overgrown into a dense scruffy beard. Sir Eckhart escorted Geralt at sword point while Sir Lionheart held a dagger to Jaskier's back. They marched forward up to the King of the castle who turned to them with a wine glass in hand. "What is the meaning of this? Why are they being threatened." The King demanded. Jaskier had heard rumours but had not ever having been this close to King Lucifer La’Croix in person. His pale skin like snow contrasting his pure blue eyes which glowed in the dim light. "They claim to be inviting you to the theatre, but this one is a witcher he arrived in Velen by boat this morning." Sir Eckhart nudged his blade into Geralt's back, making him step forward. "So what? Has he posed a threat to me?" Lucifer asked, somewhat offended. Jaskier cleared his throat, “g—good evening,your highness,” he tried to greet the King, but he was slightly distracted with the dagger pointed at his back. His skin prickled with goosebumps knowing that this was a situation to employ wit and not brutality. “The Witcher is Geralt of Rivia. He is with me, not as a Witcher but as a fellow patron of the arts. My first muse,” Jaskier tried desperately to talk his and Geralt’s way to safety. Hopefully, Lucifer could sense his honesty and would be willing to listen.

“Wait, I know you,” Lucifer said, looking at Jaskier for a long moment. “Yes! You’re the bard Dandelion the one with the catchy tunes but can be off-key in the high notes Your theatre runs those boorish plays in the slums. You need a better writer.” Lucifer said as he placed his wine glass down next to three others All of which were filled with various wines in the middle of a taste testing. Jaskier’s lips pursed as Lucifer told him his notes were flat. “Perhaps you’re tongue can be used for other things here this will be better… well put down the blades, and everyone have a taste.” Lucifer walked up to Jaskier and handed him a glass of white wine. “Sir Eckhart, go back to your post. Sir Lionheart you can stay.” Lucifer waved them off, but Sir Eckhart and Geralt were in the middle of a staring contest. “I don’t trust this witcher.” Sir Eckhart said and sheathed his blade.

“I have not lived this long by not being cautious, my friend, Sir Lionheart, will keep an eye on me. Won’t you son?” Lucifer smiled graciously, and despite the rough greeting of his armed guards, the King of Ravenloft was welcoming and kind. “Not interested. Jaskier wants to invite you to his show at the end of the week and to write a good review, there isn’t enough creativity in Novigrad, and your words put a dent in business.” Geralt spoke up in defence of Jaskier, however, was incredibly distracted by the words Jaskier had used. Why would he say muse? Also, why would he say that in the past tense? As Geralt battled those thoughts in his mind, Lucifer’s gaze focused on the witcher with intensity as if he knew. Jaskier took a sniff at the wine, checking the aroma then took a sip. “Hmmm… not bad, there are some nice sweet notes in it,” he commented, examining the glass. Jaskier noticed the intensity in the air and tried to think of how to change the subject back to the reason why they were there. “Right, I would like to personally invite you, most gracious King Lucifer La’Croix to my latest show at the Chameleon, it will be a grand affair of song, dance, wine and music.” Jaskier said with a flourish of his hand and a jovial bow. “I am hoping my latest piece will inspire you to review us more favourably.”

“No, you haven’t. You came to make sure Geralt didn’t try to kill me, you told him I am a vampire and witchers slay vampires so when he disappeared after your lovers quarrel you thought. What?” “Hold on that’s not fair.” Geralt tried to interject. “Oh yes, Geralt of Rivia, I know who you are the white wolf. My brethren have warned me of you.” Lucifer said with a smile, waving his fingers at Jaskier like he was a naughty child. “Oh, how the gods laugh upon me, a silly play is what reveals me to you,” Lucifer said and started to walk down the hall towards another cask. The torches in the room shifted as their flames all pulled towards the rear window, which was open. The sound of rain softly rattling against the glass as the leaves of trees began to sing. “I’m not come here as a Witcher.” Geralt snapped as Lucifer came to a stop at the next cast. This one smaller than the rest with a burned dwarven rune on the side of it. Lucifer poured another glass this one, blood-red with a pungent smell. Jaskier couldn’t place, but it was intense and inviting. “I admit, I invited him with me because I had figured out what you are and asked Geralt to accompany me because I was afraid to approach you alone,” Jaskier tried to plead his case to Lucifer. “But it was only to invite you to the show. That’s it, I swear to you. Nothing more, not even a threat for a good review! Your grace delighting our presence is all I need” Jaskier nervously laughed while Geralt stood there glaring at Lucifer with malice behind his gaze. “So you are a vampire?” Geralt asked as Lucifer brought the glass to Jaskier. “So what if I am? Does that make me the villain? A monster?” He asked and placed the cup in Jaskier’s hand after delicately taking away the white wine. “Tell me, do you find me that terrifying?”

Lucifer asked, his gaze like a mirror Jaskier could see himself within. A window into the truth which Jaskier wished to see more of. “What are you doing?” Geralt asked, noticing how intensely they were staring at one another. Jaskier’s eyes glazed over, and a small smile appeared on his face. “No, you’re not a villain. Someone with an acrolite carved face and eyes that shine like crystalline glaciers? Not at all… misunderstood perhaps… hmmm… I want nothing more than to make you melt with heated passion at my performance, ” the bard pondered a moment examining Lucifer intently. “I’m certain you have amazing stories as well. Ones that could inspire song and lyric that would enchant the world over!” Jaskier seemed quite taken with Lucifer. His eyes sparkled with inspiration Geralt has seen before. “Please your highness, tell me your story. I will make people better understand you and your greatness,” Jaskier exclaimed wide eyed as he waited for Lucifer to reply.

Lucifer hungry eyes gazed upon Jaskier wrist, his black painted fingernail grazing across Jaskier’s delicate skin along the artery in his forearm. Lucifer attention taken away at how calm Jaskier was. When their eyes locked Lucifer was suddenly infatuated by him. Jaskier spoke nothing but the truth and Lucifer quickly let go of Jaskier’s wrist. A small imprint in his skin that was about to bleed as Lucifer stepped back away from him. “My story? It’s long and complicated.” Lucifer turned away from the question. Geralt suddenly confused by the whole situation as the two exchanged longing looks. “Jaskier?” Geralt asked as he focused on the lovey-dovey face he recognized since Jaskier made it to every muse he had ever taken. “Hey, snap out of it.” Geralt marched up to Jaskier and snapped his fingers in front of his face. Jaskier seemed not to notice his attention on Lucifer. “I have time, please. I must know,” Jaskier all but begged at this point. Lucifer was the most fascinating person he had ever met and damned all to hell he forgot to bring his lute. “Geralt, you horse’s ass. This is not about you!” Jaskier cried with tribulation.

“A pity I feel like on a different day and under different circumstances I would have enjoyed your company, but alas I cannot tell you my tale oh sweet… Jaskier.” Lucifer turned to Sir Lionheart and nodded his head. “Take the Witcher to the private suite and lock him inside until I figure out what Jaskier’s real plan is. Come here.” Lucifer beckoned to Jaskier who forced by magic walked forward. “What! Jaskier snap out of it!” Geralt went to strike the bard, but Sir Lionheart attempted to grapple him. Geralt slapped Jaskier across the face in an attempt to break the spell as Sir Lionheart failed at trying to grab hold of his arm.

The teenager was not strong enough to fight against Geralt’s muscle. He palmed the boy in the face and knocked him on his rear using his Ard ability. The table leg holding onto one of the larger kegs broke as Sir Lionheart collided with it. Geralt watching at the barrel began to rock off its stand and onto the boy. Jaskier paused for a moment after Geralt slapped him across the face. He held his cheek looking a little dazed. “It’s alright, Geralt. I am just going to speak further about the cabaret. I very much want his approval,” still enamoured with Lucifer Jaskier would follow him anywhere. Geralt grimaced as Jaskier walked away and caught the keg before it rolled onto the kid. Lucifer watching them all as his expression fell to horror for what happened within moments of these two entering his castle. “It’s going to be that kind of night.” Lucifer sighed and with a wave of his hand, the table leg snapped back into place making everyone in the room stop for a second. “If you please. We will speak in my study. Come, Witcher, I will not harm him, less I steal from you his love.” Lucifer winked, and Geralt let go of the keg and used his Axii ability. Reaching into Jaskier’s mind using the powers of chaos taking control of his will for the first time. “Step back! He’s dangerous.” Geralt warned.

“Uh! That’s my move!” Lucifer gasped and noticed Sir Lionheart scramble up to his feet with his dagger drawn. “Halt!” Lucifer said to the knight before he attempted to stab Geralt from behind. Jaskier stopped moving and took a cautious step back from Lucifer. He blinked a few times as Lucifer’s charm went quiet at Geralt’s warning. Jaskier continued to step back until he was away from the vampire. His eyes didn’t leave Lucifer as he carefully and cautiously flead back to the witcher. “Geralt…” he whispered, “I think I should have just swallowed my pride and not have gone looking for the King’s approval.”

“You think?” Geralt snapped but realized he caused this situation at equal blame. “Listen, I am not here to kill you.” Geralt said firmly to Lucifer. Lucifer couldn’t read him, a blank slate and Geralt could not understand him. Jaskier was feeling overwhelmed while looking for and exit. He did not dare to move while a stalemate between his dear friend and a misunderstood vampire. The castle Ravenloft sitting in a cursed silence. It was an inspired moment, and Jaskier suddenly understood what he had been missing in his recent works. “Your Highness, I think Geralt and I would like to take our leave. I do hope to see you at the Chameleon at week’s end. I promise you it will be a show you will never forget!” Jaskier grovelled. “And walk into my assassination like a lamb to the slaughter?” Lucifer asked with a delightful grin. “How scandalous? You think once you came into my castle, I was going to let him go?” Lucifer asked, pointing to Geralt. “No, he does not leave… you may go and if you come back I will make sure you and everyone you love disappear. Luke take him away.” Lucifer dismissed the Bard and glared at Geralt. “You wish to fight me alone?” Geralt asked, noticing the room would be just the two of them once they left. Geralt’s witchers senses were paying attention to each and every little thing in the room. Lucifer was no ordinary vampire. The smell on him was old, like a carcass dug up from an ancient tomb. The simple parlour tricks Lucifer had shown so far just a hint from the aura of chaos which exuded from the King. Geralt hoped he had what he needed, superior oil for slaying undead creatures. A potion of black-blood already in his bloodstream to poison a blood sucker. All of these things which Lucifer had probably picked up on by the speed of his pulse. “Are you afraid of me?”

Geralt asked. Sir Lionheart following orders and forced Jaskier away. “Of course, a coward hides behind a lie. Is it so alarming that I fear death?” Lucifer replied nervously scratching his chin. Jaskier struggled against Sir Lionheart. “No, I’m not leaving without Geralt,” Jaskier had to think quickly. He needed to say something that would get Lucifer to let Geralt go. “I— I can’t perform the show without him! Geralt is one of my leads! Without him, there is no show!” Jaskier exclaimed as Geralt’s eyes widened with sudden enlightenment, and he nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been on the stage before with Irina and Pricilla last year. The play was called “The Doppler’s Salvation,” I played the witcher.” Geralt said speaking the honest to gods truth.

“Do you expect me to believe Pricilla, the gorgeous, the grand and my love Let you perform with her? That is a laugh you can barely express the truth let alone a human emotion. Who pre tell are you playing this time? Another witcher? Do you take me for a fool?” Lucifer said rather astounded at the garbage coming out of the wolf’s maw. Jaskier butted in to wrangle the conversation in their favour. “Yes, Geralt is usually very method, but this time he will be playing the villain. A glorious call back to his first role in one of my stories,” he was getting elaborate. “Of course Pricilla will be our leading lady and as for my role… that will be a surprise!” Jaskier sounded as if he had planned all of this from the start, but truth be told he was making it up on the spot and going to need to write a whole new script that night if Lucifer let them go. For More Fanfics go ( here )

#witcher #geraskier #gerlion #fanfic #lucifer #the wild hunt #future plot

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bakugou-tm · 5 years

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HELLO IMYSM i hope youre having a relaxing christnas break bc u deserve to rest!!!! anyways may i request a scenario where katsuki's s/o is in college then with all the due dates and requirements she can't visit him or smth? then suddenly he just appears in her campus and everyone's swooning over him like that, she feels so happy bc she misses him and all,,,,, thank you so much!! have a great day 💜

Awh this one is sweet of course I shall

“What do you mean you can’t come this weekend?!”

Wincing a bit at the loud voice on the other side of the phone you let out a sigh, guilt coursing through your body. You weren’t wincing because of your boyfriend’s aggressive manor, you were used to that. You were wincing because of the slight pain you heard in his voice, though you would never admit.

Every month or so you and your boyfriend would meet up for a weekend due to the long distance relationship you had been put in. While he was off working trying to build his brand as a hero, you had left for your dream school that happened to be two hours away.

Of course he would never step in the way of following your dream, he also refused to cut the relationship off for that matter. It had been decided you would both visit every month until you could graduate and move back with him.

The only problem was, these past couple of months you kept having to call off your meetings due to harsh due dates since you were nearing the end of the semester.

This was the fourth time you had to call your boyfriend and give the dreaded news that you couldn’t come, and it only kept getting harder and harder.

“I..I’m sorry Suki, I wish there was another way…” You said sadly through the phone, “I tried to convince my professor to move back the due date but with exams in less than four weeks, there was no way for him to push it back.”

Biting your lip you closed your eyes painfully as you only heard your boyfriend sigh in response, the sound itself holding every bit of pain he felt.

“I really am sorry Katsuki, I..I miss you so much…” You breathed out, a slight hiccup in your voice as you felt warm tears come to your eyes, “I would do just about anything to see you again.”

Hearing the hints of saddness in your tone Bakugou was quick to speak up, “Don’t think to hard about it shitty girl I understand, as long as you come over here after your exams.”

Perking your head up a bit you smiled, remembering you would be able to graduate just after exams, “Yes yes I will, I promise! I’ll spend everyday with you baby I promise!”

“Damn straight you will..” Bakugou replied, a soft smile on his face as he looked out the window of his suite, “Good luck with your exams babe.”

Smiling giddily at the change of moods you let yourself dance around your room before leaning against the wooden door to your dorm, “Thanks Suki, hey… I love you by the way!”

Blinking for a moment the ash blond remained silent, the last time he heard those words was the day you left for college just four years ago, every time those three golden words came from your lips it took his breath away.

“I love you too (S/o).” Bakugou said softly in the tone causing a surge of warmth to flow through your body before you hung up.

You couldn’t wait to see your Bakugou Katsuki soon.

—

Just a two weeks later you found yourself even more swamped with work. Don’t get it wrong, as much as you loved what you were doing, the study of design interesting you greatly, with so many due dates and assignments it was slowly making you envy the subject.

You tried your best to remind yourself it would be worth it in the end, but with the heavy work load it was growing harder and harder to stay focused.

Throwing on a pair of leggings and a random hoodie out of your closet you walked towards the mirror so you could do your hair.

Snatching your brush from the vanity you began to brush out your (h/c) locks before you slowly stopped, recognizing the orange and black hoodie to be your boyfriend’s hero merch.

Ever since he started his own brand for himself, his marketing team decided to get him all new merch inspired by his hero name, Ground Zero.

It was incredibly smart, the cups, shirts, hoodies, backpacks, anything you could think of were soon to be sold out for the season.

Luckily your boyfriend had sent you a ‘limited edition’ hoodie signed by Ground Zero himself which he made sure to cockily brag about until you threatened to sell it for big bucks.

Giggling to yourself when you remembered those warm moments you shared you let out a sigh, shoving your hair up into a messy bun before you looked at the trademark Ground Zero logo with a determined expression.

“I’m gonna see you soon Katsuki, hang in there..”

–

Bakugou already hated this place, and he had only taken roughly ten steps on the campus.

Everything about this university screamed you, the beautifully creative structure, the hundreds of students zooming around; not without offering a greeting or smile of course. Everyone here was so cheerful even though the aura of the school was clearly tense and stressed.

Shuffling his boots down the cobblestone path to look for any sort of directory, his body froze when he heard an all to familiar cry with those dreaded words he was doomed to hear everywhere he went.

“Is that Ground Zero?!”

Dread flowed through Bakugou’s body as the sound of footsteps scampering over to him came near, sounding like a stampede of animals in a zoo during lunch time.

“It’ll be worth it for (S/o)..” Bakugou grumbled under his breath, his sharp crimson eyes glaring up to the herd of students that surrounded him, cameras already out and ready to fire.

The ash blond should’ve known better than to come to the your campus without a disguise, the fact that he was wearing his hero uniform boots not helping the case either.

Bakugou had just been so excited to get here. After getting off the phone with you and remembering the pained tone of your voice, he couldn’t not come over here. You had one last week at this hell hole, and Bakugou would be damned if you ruined it over the massive stress you were carrying.

The young hero’s agency was far from pleased when they heard he would be under the radar for a full week, but they weren’t in any position to tell him no. At this point Bakugou ran that agency, they depended on him more than he did ever since his popularity boomed.

In less than a year he had been the first teenager to ever be in the top ten, proving to be the youngest successful pro hero in history.

Did this inflate his ego? Yes, yes it did. Did he care? Not a chance. And luckily he knew a certain (h/c) that loved his massively large ego.

The feeling of people grabbing his arms is what snapped him back to reality, his head whipping down to see multiple people shouting twenty different things at once.

“Can you sign this shirt for me?”

“Get a selfie with me Ground Zero!”

“Are you coming to this college permanently?”

“I don’t have a pen, can you just set a mini explosion off on my arm?”

Bakugou let out a growl of annoyance and a bit of disturbance at the strange demands he was receiving, didn’t these students have work to do or something?

Flicking his eyes up in hopes of seeing any sort of directory anywhere, he let out an annoyed sigh when there wasn’t anything in sight. Maybe these kids could be useful for something.

“I’ll sign all your shit later but I have a mission first,” Bakugou barked, effectively silencing the entire group as they awaited his word, “Any of you know where the hell the design wing is?”

Bakugou regretted his idea when an uproar of students began shouting out different answers, rubbing his head he let out another loud yell to silence them.

“Grape hair only, where is it.”

The tall boy in the front blinked for a moment when the pro hero pointed to him before quickly pointing over to the second building in the middle.

“Are you looking for someone?” A girl questioned from the back, causing Bakugou to look over to her direction.

“(L/n) (F/n).”

A few people in the crowd perked up at this, obviously recognizing your name.

“I know (L/n)!” A girl shouted, shoving her way to the front before pointing over to a stone pathway, “I saw her walk over there a few minutes ago with her laptop, I bet she’s finishing up her sketches for exams.”

Flicking his crimson eyes from the path to the girl he gave a curt nod of gratitude before shoving past the students, ignoring their obnoxious goodbye’s and pleads to come back soon.

As annoying as this place was, it sure was beautiful.

The stone path shortly had turned into gravel as he got deeper into the trail, the multiple sculptures he had passed beginning to disappear as the atmosphere began to look more botanical.

While he couldn’t help but admit the path was fairly neat, he was also growing fairly annoyed. He just wanted to see your beautiful face already so he could snatch you up in his arms and never let go.

Ducking over a short stone arch that was wrapped in a messy vine that contained pale blue flowers, the ash blond’s dream finally came true as he saw your rugged form laying down on a blanket in front of what looked to be a koi pond.

Just as he was about to walk over to you, he paused when he heard a sharp growl escape your lips. While it wasn’t a foreign sound to him, it certainly was a rare one.

“Come on brain think of something! What else can I add to this to make it different?” You cried, tugging at the loose strands of your hair that already seemed to be falling out of it’s place in your messy bun, “Why is my brain so.. so.. ahhhHhhh.”

Bakugou chuckled quietly to himself as your mini rant went onto a slurred new language of your letting out a mix of growling and groaning noises.

“You know I was pretty scared I wouldn’t be able to find you,” Bakugou spoke up, causing your head to jerk up before you whipped your head around to lock eyes with the ash blond, “But your annoying ass whining was pretty easy to follow.”

“Katsuki!”

Ignoring the harsh insult Bakugou through at you, your eyes lit up upon seeing your boyfriend, quickly stumbling up from your blanket and running towards him.

Bakugou stumbled back a bit from your sudden attack but was able to catch you eventually, lifting your form into his arms as he spun you around with the added momentum you gave him.

“W..What are you doing here?” You said breathlessly, your lips in the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

Placing a rough kiss on your lips the ash blond plopped you back down on your feet while keeping his arms tight around your waist, “I knew you were probably stressing the fuck out on your last week of exams.. and by what I heard earlier I was correct per usual.”

Rolling your eyes at his cocky tone you placed another quick kiss on his lips before nodding for him to continue on.

“I couldn’t just let you bomb anything because you missed this pretty face so much, so I decided to stay down here for awhile.”

Letting out a few more giggles as the ash blond attacked your face with more quick kisses you squeezed your arms around his neck tightly before looking back up to him, “What about your hero agency? Aren’t they going to be mad that you’re missing a full week?”

Bakugou scoffed at your words, his crimson eyes cockily looking down to you as a smirk flashed across his lips, “Tch.. to hell with that shitty agency, they couldn’t fire me if they even wanted to. Honestly if I said I was leaving I would have all those fuckers on their hands and knees.”

Bursting into laughter you placed yet another kiss on his lips before running your fingers through his ash blond locks playfully, “That’s my cocky little shit.”

Grinning excitedly down to you, the ash blond lifted you back off your feet again causing your laughter to fill the air once more as he swung you around before stumbling backwards, his back falling against the smooth grass while you landed on top of him with a grin.

“Walk much?” You questioned cheekily, causing him to narrow his eyes as he stole a kiss from you most likely to shut you up.

Pulling away softly, you kept your face close to his own, both of your eyes locked on each other as each of your breaths collided with each other’s lips.

“I missed you so fucking much (S/o).” Bakugou muttered just loud enough for you to hear, his hands running down the small of your back.

Inhaling deeply you kept your fingers gliding through his hair as you looked down to him lovingly, “I did too Katsuki, more than you will ever know.”

After what seemed like forever of staring, the two of you shared one last final kiss. While any kiss with Bakugou would always be somewhat rough and demanding, this one held a certain passion and love with it.

A passion of two lovers deeply missing one another’s touch. You couldn’t begin to explain how wonderful your heart felt, as if every bit of stress had flown off your shoulders. The two of you could never be happier.

Breaking away only because you ran out of air the two of you panted slightly, still looking at each other with joyful loving eyes.

That is, until you felt a pair of wondering palms.

“You look sexy as fuck in these leggings by the way,” Bakugou said with a mischievous grin, his palms giving your cheeks a firm squeeze causing you to squeak slightly before his grin formed into a somewhat impressed smirk, “Somebody’s been working out, that ass is firm babe.”

Rolling your eyes you placed a warm kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his chest, “And there you go ruining the moment yet again.”

Opening his mouth to rebuttal, both of you came to silence when the all too familiar sound of stampeding feet were heard.

“W..What on earth is that?” You asked softly, sitting up from his chest as the sound grew louder and louder.

Bakugou let out a growl as he sat up, carefully holding onto you so you didn’t slide off of him, “Your fucking classmates, I forgot to disguise myself so they went fucking crazy..”

“And the news spread..” You finished with a gulp, sharing an annoyed yet fearful expression with your boyfriend before an idea popped in your head.

Scrambling off Bakugou’s lap you quickly grabbed your blanket and laptop before yanking the ash blond off his feet.

“The hell are we going?”

Looking back to Bakugou you smiled, grabbing his hand and yanking him down another unmarked trail, “I know this little secret trail back to the campus, that way we can sneak to my dorm hopefully un-noticed.”

Deciding to follow your lead, the ash blond ran side by side with you, taking your laptop and blanket so it would be easier for you to run while you lead him down the messy path.

Bakugou had only been with you for ten minutes and chaos already seemed to be unfolding, but much to his surprise he didn’t mind, quite frankly he actually liked it. It felt like the good old days when they were at UA, just goofing around and living in the light hearted chaos you both grew to love.

But if there was one thing Bakugou knew back at UA and sure as hell knew now, he never wanted to stop living in the chaos with you.

He wanted to rule this world of chaos with you by his side..

Forever and always.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou #fluff fluff fluff #idk how i feel about this #but that's okay #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #enJOY

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tinysidestrashcaptain · 7 years

Text

Comfort and Cats - Chapter 1

I have no explanation for this. I should be working on so many other things, but I have an idea for a story, so here we go. Basically, Virgil finds a kitten, but it’s not necessarily what it seems. There will be multiple chapters, because I don’t know how to write short things.

Parings: None, this isn’t going to be shippy, I’d like to keep it platonic.

Warnings: Uhh...maybe someone will swear, but not in this chapter???

Virgil wandered aimlessly, not really paying attention to the rain. He didn’t mind it, and the mindscape was warm. He often went on solitary walks just to get away from everyone. It was getting better, had been for a while now, but there were still times when he and the others just clashed, and it was too much to deal with. Rather than fighting them, he gave in to his “flight” instinct and took off. It had really worried the others, at first. Especially Patton. But nowadays they were starting to understand his need for space and distance at times.

He wandered down one of the sprawling, empty streets, and he wasn’t really paying attention. He very nearly squished the poor, little thing. If it hadn’t squeaked at him at the last second, he probably would have. Hearing the tiny cry, he froze in place, then saw it. Tiny, shivering, pitch black and all alone. A bedraggled kitten. He leaned down, putting a finger by its face, and it immediately cuddled into his touch, desperate for warmth.

“What are you doing here?” he murmured, perplexed. Animals didn’t just appear in the mindscape. Generally speaking, Roman had to conjure an animal into being, or one had to escape from his area in order to manifest in their reality. This tiny little kitten should not be here. But, staring down at it as it cuddled into his hand, crying pathetically, Virgil just couldn’t leave it now that he’d found it. He knew Dad was allergic, but…he couldn’t just abandon it!

Decision made, he gently picked up the kitten, cuddling it close to his chest. A surprisingly loud purr rumbled out of it, and it immediately snuggled close, kneading its tiny paws and making tiny squeaking sounds. Virgil’s heart absolutely melted, and even though he kept telling himself not to get attached, he could feel the fragile tentative hope that he’d be allowed to keep it taking root. He quickly made his way back to their “house” on the street in the mindscape, the kitten happily purring away against his chest. He hesitated a moment, looking down at it. Huge blue eyes peered back, and it squeaked a tiny “mrrow” at him, as though in question.

“They might not like you. They definitely won’t want me to keep you but…I’m going to try anyway.” He felt a little ridiculous, talking to a cat, but the little thing just squeezed its eyes at him slowly, then buried its face back into the fabric of his hoodie.

He quietly opened the door, hoping to slip to his room unnoticed, but Patton was waiting in the living room. Damn, busted! And by the one person he knew had the best reason to reject his new fuzzy companion.

“Hey there, kiddo! You look soaked. Did you have a good…what’s that?” Patton cocked his head, regarding the tiny ball of fluff in confusion.

“I found him…her…it. It’s too small to be on its own, and I know you’re allergic and you probably don’t want it here, but it’s really kind of cute and I had to bring it home, I’m sorry I’m so sorry—”

“Hey, whoa, it’s fine kiddo! You did the right thing. I’m allergic, but I can just take medicine. It’s no big deal. Hey there, cutie! Wanna say hello to me?” Patton gently put one finger down, and the kitten tentatively sniffed it, then reached a paw out and released a soft sneeze that had the father figure squealing.

“OH MY GOD IT’S SO CUTE!!!” Virgil chuckled at that, ruefully looking at, watching the kitten lick its nose with an outraged expression on its face, as though sneezing were a terrible offense.

“Yeah, it really is. What should I do for it first?”

“Well, let’s ask Logan!”

“No WAIT—”

“Logy Bear, can you come out here for a second?” Virgil almost choked, trying hard to suppress a laugh as Patton shot him a playful wink. The logical side immediately stormed out of his room and down towards the commons, ranting as he went.

“For the last time, I DETEST that nickname! Why you insist on calling me that, I will never—oh! Hello, Virgil. I see you’ve returned from your walk…with a companion, no less.” Logan adjusted his glasses, then walked closer. The kitten mewled a little, reaching out its paws and purring loudly. Virgil could actually see the moment the logical side melted, a soft smile crossing his face.

“Well, Teach, this little kitty needs some help, and I thought you’re so brilliant, you’d know exactly what to do!” Patton beamed, and Logan cleared his throat, preening slightly at the praise. He gently scratched under the kitten’s chin with one finger, and the purr got even louder and more enthusiastic.

“This kitten appears very young, maybe 3 weeks at best? Far too young to be separated from its mother. Is it male or female?”

“I’m not sure.” Virgil shrugged, and Logan gently moved the kitten’s tail out of the way. The kitten swatted playfully at his hand, but didn’t use claws.

“Ah. Female. Well, she is going to need formula and multiple feedings. Her stomach is extremely small, so she’ll probably need to be fed every few hours. Kittens are also dreadful at retaining body head, which is why she is so keen to be held and cuddled. She might have frozen to death if you hadn’t found her, Virgil.” The anxious side’s arms instinctively tightened at that, and he was that much more grateful that he’d stumbled across her.

“It is odd, though. Logically speaking, she shouldn’t exist, unless Roman conjured her. He didn’t mention creating kittens.” Logan cocked his head to the side, pondering. The kitten was an interesting puzzle.

“What about me and kittens?” Roman breezed through the doorway, stopping short when he saw the others and the tiny ball of wet, black fluff in Virgil’s arms.

“Oh! How…I didn’t create you.” Roman said softly, a perplexed expression on his face.

“This is very odd. Roman, can you conjure some kitten formula? Virgil will need to feed her. We should also dry her off and keep her warm. I don’t imagine she’d have fleas or parasites, as the mindscape doesn’t have them, but since she technically shouldn’t exist a bath wouldn’t hurt.” As Logan spoke, Roman flourished his hands, holding out a can of kitten formula.

“Why does Virgil get to feed her?”

“Because I found her, and she’s staying with me.” Normally, Roman would have argued, but the flat tone of Virgil’s voice and the possessive way he held the kitten told him he wouldn’t win.

“We’re also going to need a litterbox and litter. Non-clumping, please.” Roman started to conjure what Logan asked for, but was interrupted by another voice.

“And toys! She’ll need toys!” Patton added enthusiastically.

“I’m just a walking PetSmart to you lot, aren’t I?” Roman sighed dramatically, but another wave of his hands and all the requested items were there.

“What are you going to name her, kiddo? She’s going to need a name!” Patton was bouncing on his heels, looking overjoyed. Virgil hid a smile by ducking his head, then quietly regarded his purring companion, who only blinked up at him and yawned.

“….Lucky.”

“Lucky?! She’s a BLACK CAT, Virgil!” Roman squawked indignantly.

“Yeah, and she’s lucky I found her. What would you have named her? Bagirah, after the Jungle Book? Oooh, so creative, Princey.”

“OH, SHUT UP!!!”

“I would have named her Midnight…or Smudge! Because she looks like a little smudge!” Patton interjected, hoping to head off an argument.

“Huh....that’s a good one, Dad. I could see that.”

“At least I would have given her an interesting name…” Roman muttered, huffing and crossing his arms.

“Roman! It’s Virgil’s cat. He gets to name her. I think Lucky is a wonderful name!” Patton effectively quashed the squabble, and Roman reluctantly let it go. Virgil grabbed the can of cat formula, heading to the kitchen.

“Do I need something to feed her with, or can she eat on her own?”

“Let’s find out. Here, get a low dish, something she can easily access.” Virgil grabbed one and handed it to Logan, who set it on the floor. He opened the can of formula, pouring a small amount in the dish.

“Set her down, let’s see if she can manage on her own. If she can’t we may need to use an eyedropper or syringe to help her.” Virgil obediently set Lucky down, and the little fluffball immediately scrambled to the dish. She sniffed for a few seconds, then delicately leaned down and started lapping up the formula, making happy “mmnm mmnm mmnm” noises as she did. Virgil huffed in laughter, sharing an amused look with Logan.

“It would appear she is quite capable of feeding herself. We’ll be able to start weaning her shortly, and she’ll need solid kitten food.” Logan turned to Roman, but the royal had already conjured a bag of dry food and a few cans of wet.

“Way ahead of you, Nerd.”

“Thank you, Roman.”

The kitten ate quickly, her face covered in formula. As soon as she was done eating, she toddled over to Roman, mewling up at him. He chuckled crouching down to give her an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

“I have no idea how you got here, but you are incredibly adorable.” The kitten purred in response, then turned and made her way back to Virgil. When the anxious side didn’t immediately pick her up, she took it upon herself to start climbing his pantleg.

“AH! CLAWS!!!” Virgil quickly grabbed her, pulling her off and snuggling her close again.

“Lucky” purred in contentment, her tummy full and surrounded by warmth. Yes, she was glad she’d picked this one. He needed her, and she was going to take excellent care of him. Yawning, she closed her blue eyes and drifted off to sleep.

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@randomslasher @acookiedragonblog @the-sides-of-patton @tree4life25 @penstarz96 @cefmua56 @cinquefoilelove @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @otpislife2002 @didsomeonesayprince @chemicallyimbalancedromance @pirate-patton @leesacrakon @sidewritings @prplzorua @cup-of-blue @a-valorous-choice @toxicsanders @sanders-sides-fic-archive @sanders-sides-safety-squad @emeliethetimelady @justanotherpurplebutterfly @thelogicalloganipus @sanders-trash-4ever @potatoes-and-depression

#cats and comfort #sanders sides #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #logan sanders #logic sanders #patton sanders #morality sanders #roman sanders #princey sanders #sanders sides fic

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unkindnessofone · 7 years

Text

5SOS. One Nest

This was a tough one to write. I don’t know how good it is. I know some people might not like it but it was highly requested. Probably helpful to read Rooms You're Tall In first. Enjoy. There’s a lot of stuff I want to write more on that happens in this story, let me know what you think! It’s also dedicated to my beloved @rotten-kandy who is always so supportive and nice to me. An absolute sweetie!

Dry from cleaning Daphne's car with more elbow grease than he was used to exerting these days, Luke took his uncomfortable hands on a search for salvation in the drawers of his wife's vanity in their bedroom. It wasn't as if he was snooping because it was where he often sat while she tweezed his eyebrows, trimmed his hair, or just harassed her with his mouth and hands while she tried to wax her own upper lip or attach her false eyelashes before going out. Plus Cagney was sitting right there, legs crossed as she listened intently to her daughter on the phone. Usually, the three just Skyped, but every now and again someone would ring up the other for a check in. Luke glanced at the time on his own phone in the pocket of his jeans and figured it was very early in the morning for Penelope. She was probably on her way to school or still just eating breakfast beforehand.

“I know what it's like. I've been there.” Cagney nodded at the end of both her sentences, offering her daughter some empathy before leaning into her advice. “It's nice to consider everyone's feelings, but you need to do what's best for you at the end of the day.” She had always told that to her children. When Miles had debated quitting football briefly, when March didn't want to go to another kid's birthday party, and when she was trying to get Penelope to reconsider going out on the weekend when there were exams to study for. Cagney very much believed in letting her kids make their own choices, but she still wanted to steer for them when they allowed her to. “I know he's your best friend.” Luke's interest was peeked and he stopped actually looking for his wife's hydrating hand cream and just stared at her profile while shuffling around aimlessly in her top left drawer. “Well, he is responsible for his choices and actions and you are responsible for yours. You can't make someone else's mind up for them.” Luke nodded in agreement even though he knew how frustrating that fact could be. He still was getting teased by his friend's for once roaring, over a decade ago, that everything would just be better if people did what he wanted. Calum and Skye had vowed to never let him live it down.”Alright, Pen. Have a great day at school, try not to think about it.” She didn't think her driven and usually relaxed daughter should have any trouble with compartmentalizing. “Do you want to talk to your dad before you go?” Luke stood up straight and reached for the phone eagerly. “Okay, I love you.” Cagney moved her cellphone from her ear and ended the call. “What are you looking for?” She asked before putting her phone down between her round brush and dry shampoo can.

“Hand cream.” Luke sighed, disappointed that Penelope hadn't said so much as 'hello' to him. He had talked to her just the other day in the morning out of the blue, but he wanted every opportunity to hear how she was. France was far away, but with her there, it felt even further. Of course, he understood she was probably running late for school and that was the priority.

Cagney opened up the top drawer on her other side and produced an apricot scented tube from the drug store, “I re-organized.” She told him with a smile before tending the open Zuca kit behind her, shifting around on the chair to sift through it. She had an upcoming girl's trip with Simone in a few days, joining one of her closest friends as a hairstylist and shopping buddy while she went to different stores where her jewelry was sold among the boroughs of New York. Cagney had been worried about leaving with March being so down in the dumps, but Luke was on vacation from all his producing jobs and his own creative work that she felt better about being going away. He and Luke had been becoming closer and Cagney thought there couldn't be a better time for them to delve into bonding.

“How is Pen?” On the edge of the bed, massaging his hands together thoroughly with just a dime size of lotion, Luke enquired. He would have been satisfied with just a quick 'good' or 'great', but he knew Cagney would give him more details. The kids talked to them about different things. Cagney always managed to earn their gossip and emotional rants while Luke earned more practical questions and what they should ethically do in real and hypothetical situations.

“She seemed a little stressed.” It was a sentence neither of them had uttered about their eldest and it was also one they had never heard about her. Luke completely stopped what he was doing, hand lotion bottle open beside him and hands still clasped together, and just zoned in on the straight center part of his wife's perfectly blown out hair. “She is in a love triangle. Well, kind of.” It wasn't as if they knew how Jules felt. To quote Penelope, 'He's just being so wonderful and French, so I don't know!'

“Is that what you two were talking about when I walked in?” He had only heard what Cagney's advice to her was. She didn't keep the volume on her phone as loud as he did his, Luke couldn't make out anything being said on the other end of the call.

“Yeah. She doesn't want to hurt anyone, you know? Connor and her apparently had a fight when he came in because he thought they would just pick up where they left off here and Penelope's met someone else that she thinks she might like.” While Miles had been lusting over every male and female body on the beach since he was about eleven and March had lost count of the girls on television that he had tickled his pickle to, Penelope was always unconcerned when it came to romantic feelings and relationships. She just always found other paths more interesting. It wasn't as if guys didn't pursue her and one particularly relentless female, but Penelope never really cared enough to try. Both Cagney and Luke figured this French guy must have been somebody special to capture the attention of their cool daughter.

“You told her to just do what she wants?” He paraphrased from his wife's response that he only could half recall now and closed up the lotion's tube with his much nicer feeling hands.

“I think that's pretty solid advice.” If Connor or this Jules fellow talked to their parents, which she doubted, Cagney assumed they would hear the same thing.

“I don't know.” Luke mused as he stood up and stretched. His arms and knees were sore from a lifetime of playing music physically as well as just from the last hour he spent with March scrubbing at the paint that refused to part ways with Daphne's car windows.

“What? You've never liked two people at the same time before?” Cagney finally looked up from her bag, two large cans of hairspray in one hand and asked Luke with a humored smile. When she met him in London in the Sassoon salon, he was in fourteen different tabloid articles all with different girls. She figured somewhere in that time he must have accidentally sent a text for one girl to another or found himself on a date with a pretty blond while thinking of some other model. He was young and had the world at his fingertips after all.

“I don't think we should be getting into this.” Luke advised her as a warning before putting her lotion back in the wrong drawer. He leaned down and kissed her, a small peck on the lips. “I'm going to go to my studio.” He informed her and headed out the bedroom, changing the vibe as he petered out. It had been a long time since Cagney thought back to when they were new parents of twins, to before Luke managed to get his fear or missing out and his lust for approval under control, to when they both were the worst versions of themselves. It was before all the therapy, when the largest crack in their relationship existed, jagged, right down the middle.

-----------------

It was where he felt he really shone. Shirt off, skin to skin, laying somewhat upright with one of his infant sons on his chest. Luke felt pretty unimportant when his children were first born. He couldn't produce food for them and he didn't have the forty (or thirty eight and a half in the case of the twins) weeks of bonding that Cagney did with them. So he just took to the instructions of his wife and helped out like a half diligent and half dimwitted intern. When it came to soothing though, Luke knew he could do that and do it well. It was where he had the chance to comfort and bond with them. Depending on the mood of the baby, he would just tell them about his dad or he would sing low one of his favourite songs. He had bathed and put Penny to sleep in order to take a load off Cagney while she fed Miles his last meal of the night. When March grew fussy as soon as Luke put Penelope's bedroom light out, he groaned tired and took off down the hall of their Sydney home to the nursery. Instantly, he had his small screaming son in both hands and held him against the exposed part of his hairy chest under his shirt. Once seated in the rocking chair, a gift from Gigi Hadid when Cagney was pregnant with Penelope, and he snuggled March close while carefully unbuttoning a few more buttons to give March more warm skin. He was only eleven weeks old and the world was still a cold scream in comparison to his mother's water bed womb.

Once back asleep, Luke stayed put in the chair. His own body was exhausted and he was running a deficit with sleep himself. He closed his blue eyes and hung his head back while his knees kept the chair rocking slightly. It was another thirteen minutes before he forced himself to stand up, rest March back into his crib, and leave the room with a trace of his kiss on both the babies soft heads of barely blond hair.

Luke was ready to crash. He had been since he dragged his body that felt like swamp water and sludge home around five in the morning. He would have collapsed on the couch if the babies hadn't been up and Cagney, along with his mom, weren't sitting on the couch with both twins, the two of them screaming in unison. It had been natural for Luke to rush in and help. It bought him a little time to think of a good argument about why he was out all night for when his Mom asked. He knew she would.

Luke walked to his room with shut eyes. They only peeled open when a gust of wind hit him much to his surprise. When he spied into his bedroom, he saw a mess of his clothes everywhere - mostly jackets - and Cagney furiously shaking them, checking the pockets and throwing them on the floor. She was half in their spacious walk in wardrobe and half in the main room. She didn't stop when Luke came closer, she didn't even notice him there.

"Looking for something?" Luke leaned his shoulder and hip into the door frame and just watched her for a moment. He hated how attractive she looked when she was on a mission. He secretly loved watching her at a photo shoot where she was crunched for time and trying to finish Michael's hair. The serious look that took over her stare always hooked him in.

"I don't know." Cagney sighed, dropping his vintage John Varvatos motorcycle jacket to the grown with a groan. She really didn't know if she wanted to find something or not.

"What's going on?" He inquired through a yawn, one hand lazily trying to shield his open mouth.

"You tell me." Cagney swiped at the mess around her bare feet, grabbing the collar of the dirty jean jacket he had worn out the night before and tossing it at him, just barely missing his face. Luke fumbled and caught the item of clothes right before it met the floor again.

"I don't understand..." Sincerely clueless and confused, Luke responded and looked over the frayed lining of one of his favourite jackets. He really had no idea what she was so frazzled about, but Luke assumed they were both just too tired to communicate well.

"There's fucking coke in the pocket." She surprised Luke so quickly with her curse, something she didn't have a habit of doing, that he didn't notice her charge at him to pull at the jacket without concern for its material. She reached into the chest pocket and whipped out the tiny bag and it's even tinier white dust.

"Jesus, Keg. You went through my jacket?" It had been lying on the bed from when he peeled off his sweat and liquor scented clothes from the night before. It was Luke's turn to be disappointed.

"You lied to me!" Cagney had some inkling that his friend's birthday was more than just shots and staying up til the sun rose. She recognized the gray tone of Luke's skin from the one other time she had seen him after a night of countless bumps. It had been a few months after they officially began dating and she told him right then that it wasn't her scene. Luke had shrugged his way through an explanation, telling her he only did it once in a while when offered and that if she didn't like it, he wouldn't do it.

"What?"

"I asked you if you did coke this morning right before we showered." With three small kids, they hadn't been able to be as intimate and sexual as they had been when they only Penelope to consider. Thankfully Liz had offered to take Penny for lunch while the twins napped, giving Cagney and Luke time to spend together. "You said ‘no’ and then we had sex!" She felt absolutely furious.

"I don't really remember doing it, okay? It's not mine." He could be honest when he said he had never actually spent any money on cocaine.

"I don't think it's unreasonable to not want coke in the house!" They had small children wandering around. Cagney had a sick feeling that if Penny had found it somehow she would have thought it was candy and eaten it.

"Of course. It shouldn't be in here, I agree. If I knew I had it on me..."

"I don't want you to go out as much!" The words rushed out of her mouth before they even ran through her brain. Cagney was gripping at her messy ponytail and squinting her eyes shut. She was exhausted and now she was angry with her husband, the combination made her chest ache terribly. She realized only then in the silence that she was trembling.

"Okay..." Luke hated being told what to do, but he could see her body shaking under her generous gray shirt and black capri leggings. It was her uniform since having twins. She refused a nanny despite the many recommendations she was given. "Keg, I don't do coke." With trepidation, Luke began to approach her, stepping through his jackets and dress shirts. "You know I'm not an addict..."

"You party all the time."

"You've gone out since the twins were born." It wasn't as if she became June Cleaver after Penelope was born. She and Luke had always been really proud that they still went out even when Penelope was first born. They would spend their mornings exploring new cities as a family of three and then leave Penny with a sitter or Liz while hitting an after party, making out like teens before doing it all over again.

"I went out once to dinner with Grace. I had two glasses of wine and was home by midnight." She had felt guilty the whole time. "I don't believe you when you say you don't do coke." The signs were all stacking up in her mind. Her shoulder shook on purpose, forcing the hand Luke placed on her to slip off.

"Are you serious?" His eyes narrowed in on her and framed her tightly. Luke forgot all about his exhaustion as he felt himself be insulted by his wife.

"You have a problem. You're so fucking scared of missing out on a good time, so you stay out and get messed up with all your 'yes' people." She was overwhelmed with three small children and she knew Luke was as well, but they were choosing it to handle it differently. She was trying to do it all by herself like superwoman and he was trying to pretend his life hadn't drastically changed eleven weeks ago. “You don't want to grow up.”

“I am trying to make both my lives work!” He roared. Luke didn't expect Cagney to get it, not when they were both this overtired. He had to still be Luke Hemmings the rock star and the diligent husband and adoring father of three. It was not easy to strike an equal balance of the two very different lives. “When I'm out, I'm disappointing you and when i'm home, I'm disappointing everyone else.” He felt the strain no matter what he did. When he skipped album release parties and industry events to stay home with his family in Australia, Luke received countless annoyed texts or vaguely threatening emails from his management just like when he did fly elsewhere for a couple days he could feel the irritation from his wife. He fallen for her because of her warmth and understanding, but he had come to know she knew how to cast a chilly breeze with a single glance.

Luke had moved away from her now, thrusting his arms through his beloved denim jacket. He wasn't planning to leave though there was always somewhere for him to go. He was just overheating with anger and needed to do something with his hands. Cagney just watched him with utter disgust. It was an expression she hadn't ever given to him before. He had seen it before when she was cross with paparazzi coming to close, when another woman told Luke that she was okay being the other woman right in front of her, but it was never directed at Luke before and he had to look away. The sight of it brought shame shooting through his body. He felt dry and oily all at once. There was no amount of cleansing to rid him of how gross he felt.

“Well, I'm sorry that we are cramping your style here.” She overannunciated every word, making sure each vowel hit him before she kicked away the jacket closest to her and rushed out of their walk-in. “But don't worry, you keep bringing drugs into the house and partying til 5 in the morning, I promise we won't be here anymore.”

“Is that a threat? Fuck.” He growled right back, feeling the heat of her threat and reacting promptly without any though. “Are you fucking threatening me?” This was ugly now. They were headed to Michael and Grace territory, a place they promised not to go after listening through a hotel room wall to Grace throwing objects and Michael roaring like a poked and prodded tiger in it's cage. Luke knew, in the back of his mind, if they weren't so tired that things wouldn't have come to this, if he hadn't stayed out this wouldn't have happened.

“If you want to be Luke Hemmings, Party Monster, go for it. We'll be in Minnesota and we will not miss you and your hungover bullshit.” Cagney's finger ripped through the space between her and Luke. She nearly poked him right between the eyes.

“That's not funny, Cagney. Don't say that.” Luke could admit, maybe quietly between friends or to his older brothers, that he had been losing control lately. He was anxious when he missed out on a party somewhere, he craved the burn of whiskey down his throat the moment it hit six PM, and he liked being the center of attention. He wasn't under the spotlight at home and that was hard. Still, he couldn't stand the thought of his children being taken away from him. He hadn't realized how ungrateful he was that he was allowed to see them whenever he wanted and as much as he wanted. He had a job that allowed him to bring them with him. He didn't have to stress about daycare or family trips. He was lucky and, if he kept messing up, he would lose comforting his sons against his chest or splashing in the shallow end with toddler Penny.

“I'm not joking.” Her tone of voice made that crystal clear. “Go. I don't want to sleep near you tonight. I can't even look at you – bringing cocaine in the house. We are not these people.” She began to walk away from him, hands on her hips as she counted between her inhale and exhales.

“What do you want me to do, Keg?” Luke gasped, throwing his arms out at his side's like a scarecrow just to drop them against his ribs. He watched her backside and waited, hoping she would turn around and face him with the same kind eyes he had proposed to.

“I want you to be the person you promised me you'd be!” She went to scream, but instead, began to sob. Cagney's chest sunk inward as she stopped walking. She curled up in the middle of the room, hugging her stomach, and bawling. “I want you to be who Penny needs you to be.” Very slowly, as Luke crept up behind her with caution, Cagney turned around and squeaked. Luke opened up his arms to allow her in. He touched her like she was glass, but she pushed away while shaking her head expeditiously. “No!” She shouted and jumped away. “Be better. Get better. If you need to go away to do that or if we need to make changes, whatever. Just don't be this guy.” When the brought Penelope home, Luke was a dream. He was attentive and interested while also scared, but they were both in over their heads with the twins. Somehow, Cagney was laying on the door in the middle of the ocean while Luke had let go and was inviting water into his lungs.

He didn't need her to push him away anymore. He left the mess in their closet and walked out of the room. Luke would have rather stayed and comforted Cagney, but she refused to let him so he went downstairs to the basement to sleep by himself. As he shut off the hallway light, he passed by the twins room. There was no noise, not even the sound of a mobile or creak, so he kept walking. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted half of Penny's curious face through the forced crack between her door and it's frame. He and his wife bickering must have alarmed her. Luke locked his eyes with her and reached out to push her door open with a heavy sigh, but she took off running into her bed as quick as her very small feet could carry her. Luke decided to let it go. He was too tired. Simply, he took himself to the basement and brought out a fur blanket to sleep under in his underwear. His cell phone was lit up on his stomach when he awoke an hour after drifting off. Two year old Penelope Hemmings was crawling over his long legs without any knowledge on how to be discreet.

“I love you, Papa.” She whispered through the dark. Luke sleepily blew her a kiss with just his lips before moving the blanket behind his knees, allowing her to burrow behind them and stay warm with him.

-----------

It felt like years had gone by like speeding cars since he was last in front of Calum Hood and Skye Pierre's house. Of course, it had only been a few months since March last pulled up on his bike to pick up Daphne with the handles as a seat and bike downtown to hang out with a bunch of their friends doing nothing with slushie drinks in hand. When the two teenagers were together, they spent most of their time at the Hemmings house, but March had still become something of a staple in Calum's doorway where he would often wait for Daphne to finish getting ready. He had sat in the living room with Daphne, sprawled out over the coffee table, and helped her with her homework while finishing his own. March still felt like Skye's gravy was the best that he had ever had and that included a lot of five star meals and his mom's home cooking. Of course, he had not mentioned this fact to his mom.

March breathed slowly like his Dad had advised him to when he felt outside of the control room of his emotions. He watched his nervous and shaking hands on the steering wheel and didn't turn off Daphne's car until the anxiety subsided. Once the car was off, March pushed open the door and freed himself of the nostalgic scent of leather seats and Daphne's favorite perfume to spray after dance class in an attempt to mask her body sweat. As he walked around front of the car, he heard another door close. He was halfway up the driveway, just next to Skye's SUV when Daphne appeared in comfortable sweatpants and tight ribbed magenta sweater that pulled over her breasts that barely fit inside the fabric. Her hair was folded lopsided into a giant messy bun on top her head and March drove his eyes into the different twirls of chocolate hair to keep himself from gawking at the curves he missed touching.

“Here you go.” He reached forward with her keys, the oversized pink glittery cupcake fob on the end dangling in the space between them. “It's clean.”

After taking the keys, Daphne turned her head to stare at her car, previously covered in uppercase hate, and discreetly nodded in agreement that it was now clean. In fact, unless someone had seen it earlier in the evening, they would never know it had been vandalized.

“You didn't have to do that, you know?” Through her always breathy voice, Daphne told him. She wanted to look him in the eyes, but she hadn't been able to since coming out for longer than a second. Daphne just kept referring back to the heavy key fob in her hands as if it was more interesting than March's sharp blue gaze.

“I did, actually.” A hiccup of laughter choked it's way up March's throat at her comment. “You know how my Dad feels about being told 'no' when he asks us to do something.”

“True.” Daphne chuckled back. She hadn't realized this was the first pleasant exchange they shared since breaking up. It felt very naturally for them both. “Thank you. All of you guys.”

“Just so you know Miles didn't help at all.” While he had been nervous about dropping off the car and wished his Dad had just done it himself since he was the one who drove it to the car wash from the football game, March now felt relaxed. It was just him and the girl who meant everything to him. Her day had ended with bullying, so he didn't want to pile onto her anymore with the feelings that tormented him all the time. “He says he twisted his ankle at his game, so it was just me, my dad, and Taylor who worked on your car.” March was a twin before he was anything else and there was no way the guy older than him by just a few minutes was getting the credit for his hard work.

“You don't believe him?” Daphne dropped her keys into one pocket of her sweatpants before gripping her hip and asking with two brows raised so high that they disappeared under her messy bangs.

“Nope. I twist my ankle on my board all the time. He's hamming it up so he can lay around and watch TV and get out of washing a car.”

“He just had a football game.”

“Are you team Miles now? You don't have to be team March, but that's a low blow.” It was a fluid interaction. March had been teasing Daphne since they were as tall as their parent's shins. They just melted back into themselves on the driveway. They were laughing into one another's smiles and March was hoping time would stand still so he wouldn't have to say 'goodbye'.

“No!” Daphne shook her head and playfully retorted. “Twisted ankles hurt. I'm team be nice to your brother.”

“Fair, that's on brand.” March folded his arms around his chest as he laughed. A small silence stepped between them and he considered filling it. He could damper the moment with an apology for previous behavior, he could ask her how school was going and pretend to care about small talk, or he could reveal to her what everybody already knew by telling her he wanted her to be his girlfriend again. Daphne rubbed her lips over one another again and again, wondering what he would say if she invited him in or if she even had the right to know if he had hooked up with somebody since they broke up. “My board is in your backseat. I'm going to get it and go.” He told her and shuffled a few steps away, moving his arms down and pushing his hands into the pocket of his tight jeans.

“Okay, but don't leave yet.” She froze him by saying in a quiet rush. Daphne took off running back into her house and March waited patiently by her car's backseat door. He had no idea what was happening, but he was hopeful that she would come flying back out to kiss him or something like that. A guy could dream.

Instead, right as he reached in for his skateboard, he heard Daphne's front door close again and when he turned around, she was standing steps away from him with a a large Tupperware square. It wasn't her lips reglossed and all over his, but he could tell from the transparent edge that it was something with chocolate and that was a decent second.

“I made these to say 'thanks'.” She reached out to give him, figuring the brownies were secured enough for him to skateboard home with them. “Don't eat them all. Save some for your Dad and Taylor.” She supposed anybody else who wanted them as well. “There's pecans in them since Penny isn't at home.”

“Man, I've eaten so much peanut butter since she left.” He laughed mostly at himself, one palm on his belly so he could pat it as if it was full of only the food that could literally kill his older sister. “Thanks.” March took the Tupperware as soon as his board was on the ground. “And hey, Daph, if someone is being shitty to you at school, tell me.” He played it cool, running his empty hand through his hair, but March meant what he was saying as law.

“I didn't know if you'd care...” She admitted to her feet and the cement like it was an embarrassing secret.

“I'll always care.” As soon as he admitted it and her wide eyes went in on him, March wished he had kept that to himself. “And I'd happily rip the hands off of whoever wrote that shit on your car. Do you know who did it?” March had his own theories himself, but he didn't know as much about Daphne's life anymore. Maybe, she had a new enemy. He couldn't imagine the soft spoken dancer purposefully hurting anyone.

“I really don't.” She knew she wasn't exactly cool, but Daphne didn't think anyone hated her that much.

“Well, they're wrong. You're not those things and you're my friend. So let me know if it happens again.” March's stomach was feeling twisted inside. He felt like he had said too much and he might as well have been standing naked in front of her. “I really would kill whoever did it.” He promised again. “See you tomorrow.” He held the brownies against the side of his ribs and took off quickly, leaving Daphne to watch him skate away before moving her car into the garage. She felt better somehow. It seemed like things with March might be okay for now. She knew they may never go back to normal and that they might not actually be friends, but it was nice to hear him say so anyway.

= ~~~~~

Most days, Penelope's schedule was the same. She went to school, studied, and then took the subway for three stops to arrive back in her neighborhood and just a few blocks away from the restaurant she worked in for both money and experience. She was lucky because since she wasn't a culinary prodigy or had a plethora of experience in a kitchen, her routine still felt like a wild adventure where anything could happen. It was that kind of excitement that Penelope needed to stay interested in something. It was one of the many reasons she loved to surf back before she was chronically concussed. No matter how talented or well seasoned you were on your board, nobody ruled the water and you could encounter a challenge to conquer with every wave. Sometimes, experimenting with recipes gave her the same feeling. When something went wrong on her stove top or she had a few, but strange ingredients in her cupboard, she felt hugely successful when a good meal came through.

Penelope was wrestling her arms out of her lined autumn denim coat and into her white chef's jacket as she raced down the last block before work. She usually made impeccable time, but one of her instructors had asked her to stay after class to talk to her about getting a weekend of next month to go to the small town of Uzerche to visit and tour a cattle farm. He thought it would be an excellent opportunity for her since the closest thing she had been to was a petting zoo. He also really liked Penelope, much more than their pastry instructor did. Mademoiselle Valerie thought that Penelope lacked any instincts and criticized her work at any opportunity. Cerise always just told Penny it was because she was half American and Mademoiselle Valerie felt that French technique belonged to, simply, French people.

She pushed open the kitchen door and expected to be greeted by steam and the scent of rosemary olive oil. Instead, she nearly collided with the faux gold buttons of a flashy coat she had seen a few times before. It belonged to Jules, he was just getting off his first job at the hotel. He was early as he usually didn't come to work before the sun had set. Penelope really thought she would be able to be completely avoid him their entire shift together, the first day they worked together since she had revealed her feelings for him last weekend. It wasn't as if there was much free time when you were working in a kitchen or on stage anyway. She planned to just keep her head down, do her job, and ignore the beautiful Ferrer Rocher eyes of Jules Archambault and his spicy cologne. Now she had no choice, but to greet him since he had already said 'Bonjour, Penelope' and turned his attention away from the bulletin board to face her.

“'Allo Jules.” She said inwardly, focusing more on doing up the front of her clean uniform.

“Do you have time to chat?” He asked sanguinely, eyes full of hope and his smile as inviting as a formal letter from a royal suggesting a tea date.

“No. Sorry.” It wasn't really a lie. She did have to join the line in under two minutes unless she wanted the head chef to take a Wusthof to her throat and serve her like croutons with the evening's salade special. “I'm late today.” She was not proud of that fact.

“It'll just take a second.” He knew it wasn't common for her work to come without scheduled breaks and once he was on stage, he couldn't just step down to talk to whoever he wanted. Even if they were as lovely as Penelope Hemmings was to him.

“Can you text it?” She didn't generally have the chance to look at her phone until after work, but that way he would have whatever he was holding onto off his chest and she could answer when she had actual time. “Or is it really bad?” Penelope didn't want him to consider her a bad friend even though she was feeling out of her element standing before him with her having been so honest last time they were together. Still, if Jules needed a shoulder, she wanted to be there for him.

“No, it's not bad. I just....No, it can wait.” He didn't wrestle with himself. He sighed inwardly and began to walk away. He wasn't very fond of his doormen uniform and was eager to strip it off him anyway. “Have a great shift.” He wished Penelope before disappearing from her line of sight, presumably headed to the back office to hang up his bright blue jacket where he usually hung up the hat he often was made to wear with it.

Penelope finally exhaled after holding her breath tightly through their exchange. She was scurrying over to her place in line across from Alexandra, but the very moody French woman, the Daria of the kitchen, waved at her with a cleaver to turn around. Penny stood still and squinted at her workmate. It was challenging to read the girl's lips as they were thin by design and she didn't speak English fluently. Eventually, after a couple tries, Penelope figured out that she was telling her to turn around, but she didn't know why.

“I've got this! Go talk to him!” Alexandra finally just shouted over the room of bodies, the simmering pans, and the curses of other line cooks. Since discovering that her beautiful blond friend was a virgin, Alexandra felt inspired to help her romantically somehow. She saw the way Penelope sunk into hypnosis when they watched Jules play drums. It was obvious the Australian-American was two steps away from being a full fledged fan girl which was Penelope's greatest fear since she grew up being scared of the girls who chased her in her dad's arms or screamed outside their car when she was a small baby.

Penelope rolled her eyes and then did as she was shouted to. She trusted that if anyone could help her weasel her way out of the wrath of the kitchen talking heads, it was Alexandra. Alexandra was a woman who had spent her life proving how good she was and now she didn't take shit from anyone. One day, if she was able to grow up, Penny wanted to be just like her.

Fidgeting with her hands together in front of her, as if she was playing cat's cradle with the air, she followed the way Jules had gone until she spotted him between the chef's office and the manager of the restaurant’s. He was wearing just his brown chinos, black socks, and nothing else. With her manners gone for a moment, Penelope just gawked. It was like the first time Simone saw Ashton backstage after going to a 5 Seconds of Summer concert for the first time. His hair was coated in sweat, his eyes were held captive by exhaustion, but his body was a maze of surprises and subtle brush strokes. Penny was in desperate need of a sit down talk with her Aunt Simone that would include a lot of wine. She wanted to know everything about dating a drummer as long as her aunt could leave out any stories of her Uncle Ashton naked.

“You change back here?” She pulled herself out of her stare to step forward and interrupt Jules. He squinted at her before pulling his head through an undershirt and then started to force his arms through the sleeves of a recently dry cleaned white shirt. “It's still technically a kitchen.” In her own apartment, sometimes Penelope would just wear an apron or a big shirt while cooking, but she felt like it was way more hygienic in a professional kitchen to have your body covered. “You should wear a hair net or something.” She half-joked.

“I thought you were a busy bee.” He shrunk the space between them, stepping into the open door frame between them and clutching both sides of it. His smirk was strong and Penelope just knew he was pleased she had returned.

“Alex has things under control at our station.” Penny shrugged quickly with one shoulder.

“Well, I was hoping you could send me your list of restaurants you want to go to here.” Jules informed her, holding her eye contact even when her eyes fell and just stared at his uniquely chiseled chin.

“Yeah, sure. I'll do it tonight when I'm home.” It was on her laptop on a spread sheet. She wrote down what she ordered, what she thought, and what she wanted to try to make herself after her experience there. It was very nerdy and she refused to show anyone, so she would have to just take the restaurant names and text them to him.

“Okay.” She was so obliging that Jules wasn't able to really get his point across. “I know you're not working next Saturday until late,” The after hours crowd that was usually when he was on stage. “I thought we could cross a few places off. Breakfast, coffee, lunch, snack, maybe dinner if there's time.” Jules knew Penny couldn’t drive in France and wasn’t really supposed to be, but he felt like biking together would be safe.

“Yeah, that would be so fun. I already know where we could go for lunch.” Penelope may have had a long wishlist of places to try, but she also had spots that she loved already. L'as du Falafel was one of those beloved places and not just because her and her ate there twice when he helped her move to France.

“No, Penny,” He rarely called her by her shortened name and it flicked in her eyes as strange when he said it that way. “I'm trying to plan something. I'm asking you out on a date.” He came right out and just said it.

Penelope didn't realize it, but her mouth was hanging open. Her eyes were hooked onto the one pocket on the chest of his shirt as she stood still and stunned. It wasn't until Jules rested his head on his shoulder and forced himself into her view that she shut her mouth and laughed.

“Okay, sure.” She shrugged again, playing it cool. Connor appeared in her mind though. She was ten seconds into a mental dance party when her lifelong friend came into her mind with his ukulele and perfect teeth. “Can I actually get back to you?” She asked as Jules pushed himself off the door frame and further into the room to finish buttoning up his shirt. “I just want to make sure I don't have any plans already first.” It wasn't a lie. She did have to check with her school schedule, but Penelope also wanted to talk to Connor beforehand. She hadn't answered any of his six apology texts and they hadn't said anything to each other since she walked away from him and out of the club parking lot a few nights ago. It felt like a string pulling on her stomach, dragging her to unfinished business. She couldn't move forward until everything was settled.

“Sure, whatever you need.” Jules thought that she would agree instantly given that she had been the one to share her feelings with him, but his mother had warned him that American girls could be complicated even if she only gathered that from soap operas he downloaded for her.

-------

California didn't feel like home anymore. Even though she was American by birth, Cagney preferred their house in Australia. Now that she had three kids, she just felt as if she was waiting in someone else's life in their house in Burbank. They were only ever there because of Luke's work. It had been a week since their blow-up and while they were functioning fine, there was frost on the gears. She was more nervous in California since it seemed to her that there was more temptation and pressure for Luke there. She was trying not to lose her mind about it though. He was an adult and she couldn't control what he chose. She had two baby boys who needed her attention and body. She couldn't waste time trying to also raise Luke.

Accepting the night out as an opportunity to reconnect with her husband, Cagney took to the Capitol Records party with hopeful optimism. She invited Simone over so they could get dressed together, sharing a nanny for their five children for the evening. Cagney agreed to a black satin Theory dress that Simone picked for her despite not feeling as confident as she might have before harboring two babies inside her at once. It wasn't as if Cagney was ever a pillar of self-confidence. Still, she knew that she had not been making the same effort she once had due to her new schedule. Cagney blew out her hair the way she always wore it when she and Luke began dating, remembering how untamed he was with his hands when they would be sitting in a booth, surrounded by people, his calloused fingers running through her blond locks like they were his source of comfort, his Linus blanket when everything felt like too much.

At first, Cagney pretended she wanted to be there. She pushed herself to not check her phone in her clutch for the first hour. She smiled with the tip of her tongue pressed to the back of her teeth and even acted thrilled to see people she didn't remember ever having met. Still, Cagney just wanted to run out of the room, hop in the first Uber, and go back to her children. It was nice, she had to admit, to have Luke's hand on her backside though, guiding them both through the room, whispering the occasional name into ear. He even checked twice if she was having a good time and he pretended to believe her when she said she was happy.

Luke excused himself once he had his second drink in hand, leaving Cagney with Calum who had come alone since Skye was on bed rest in British Columbia. They were so excited to finally have a child together. It seemed like it was going to work out for them this time, but everybody was holding their breath. The struggle Calum and Skye had gone through had not only been brutal, but it had not been in private. Even people who disliked the pair were wishing them well. They were due soon and Calum's knees were bouncing nonstop. He couldn't wait to fly back to Canada to be with Skye and her underwhelming bump.

“Hey gorgeous.” A distant, but familiar voice forced Cagney to look up from her phone. She was just about to check her texts after showing Calum a few pictures of Miles and March, but she threw her head upward quickly. It didn't sound like Luke, but she hoped that it was. She worried about where he went or who he went with. While it wasn't Luke, she jumped up gleefully and wrapped her arms around her old friend, holding her phone behind his neck.

“God, I haven't seen you in so long!” In Dacre's ear, Cagney happily cooed as he squeezed her back, one hand where Luke's had been all night. “When was the last time I saw you?” When Luke wasn't touring, Cagney had the chance to take other jobs and early on, she had met Dacre Montgomery while shooting a video for VMAN. They became fast friends since she was dating an Australian at the time and he was Australian. They bonded fast and Luke had come to like him just as swiftly.

“You were pregnant but not the last time,” Through tabloids and the grapevine, he had heard she and Luke welcomed twin boys. “It was with your daughter. Penelope?” He had to guess.

“Yes!” Her eyes blinked rapidly, her fake lashes causing a small breeze down her face. It felt like ages since she had dressed herself up and put lipstick on let alone false lashes and earrings. “I heard you were just cast in a huge action film. Like a franchise.” Not knowing it could have been a rumour, Cagney gushed.

“Keep it down. I'm not allowed to say anything.” Laughing, he pretended to shush her before guiding her back to the both she was sitting at. As Cagney collected the back of her dress under one hand, she realized only then that Calum wasn't there anymore. He had gone to find a quiet spot in the crowded room in order to answer a call from Skye. “You look beautiful by the way.” Dacre mentioned off hand. “Where's your husband before I get in trouble for staring?” He only half teased. He had been disappointed many years back when they first met and she mentioned casually that she was in a committed relationship. He felt like she was something like a 70s bombshell with her big blond hair and girl-next-door smile.

“He's around here somewhere.” Cagney looked around, twirling her finger like a slow cyclone through the air beside her. “You know Luke, he knows everyone a little bit.” She half-laughed. Without realizing, Cagney melted into the way Dacre's eyes were biting at her. The attention was nice since she hadn't been feeling very pretty lately (or even very human) and she had felt so distant from Luke, more so than any time there had been an ocean between them.

“He would agree anyway.” Dacre laughed with a shrug of his shoulder to his ear. “You're gorgeous.” While they didn't see one another often, he always made sure to tell her that. He never had his chance with her, but it didn't mean he didn't wish for it.

“I don't know about that.” Rolling her eyes, she said truthfully. “It's hard to be sexy when you have two new babies and a toddler running around. This is the only thing I have without drool on it and it's not mine!” She joked and leaned into the booth behind her, genuinely enjoying herself and feeling relaxed for the first time since she and Luke fought in their closet back in Sydney.

-------

Empty. She was a Tamagotchi blinking rapidly to be recharged. Penelope felt drained after work. Taking a day off from her usual routine of school then work had given her body the opportunity to forget the stamina it had built up. She told herself that she would work on her assignment during her lunch hour tomorrow like she often did as Penny slowly pulled her body up the steps to the floor her apartment was on. She was dreaming of passing out on top of the blankets on her futon naked. It wasn't until Penny heard her phone buzzing in her purse as she dropped it by the front door of her small place that she remembered she had texted Connor, asking if they could talk. Grumbling to herself, Penelope locked her door and then bent down onto both knees to retrieve her phone. It was Connor.

"Salut? I mean, hi." She corrected herself and inhaled, giving herself one last shot of energy.

"Hey." On the other side, Connor sounded unsure of himself. He was goofy and confident around her, but she could hear the insecurities that she always knew he had through the phone. "You wanted to talk? You good?" They might have had their first fight, but Connor still cared about his best friend.

"Yeah, I'm good. I just walked through the door. How was Marseilles and Lyon?" There was a part of her that was buying time, but Penny also was genuinely curious. As awful as some of the things he had said to her had been, Penny was in the habit of reading any and all reviews she could find about Connor's songs and live performances. They were currently very mixed in France. The sentence 'Talented and truly adorable aren't enough to make Connor Wylie more than just a warm up act' stood out for Penelope, but she recalled reading about how much they had loved him in Berlin. The reviewer called him 'a blinding star absolutely necessary to keep an eye on'.

"Okay. I can't shake the feeling of...Sunday." He didn't want to be dramatic, but it was the truth. He was trying to devour the energy the crowds were giving to him graciously, but his mind was reeling over how guilty he felt and his body ached with regret.

"Yeah." She understood that. "I hate that I upset you like that."

"No, it was me. I know what it's like to like two people at once," Connor had gone through high school dreaming of Penelope while buying other girls cocoa and bracelets. "I could have been nicer." He should have been. "I was just disappointed, not that it's an excuse." He just really thought they would spend all his free time together with their bodies as close as they could be without fornicating in public.

"I'm sorry." Penny didn't worry about letting others down. She just wanted to live her best life. However there was something about crushing Connor's dreams that picked at her. She wanted them to raise one another up, she wanted them to find happiness simultaneously somehow.

"You don't have to be sorry. You don't owe me anything." On the other end of the phone, Connor's voice was dry. He was in need of the break he had finally had today, but talking to Penelope hurt so badly that it was as if he hadn't self medicated with copious cups of lemon and hot water all day. "Have you told Jules about your...crush?" Connor decided to try his best friend hat on again, making sure it still fit. He knew for a fact that Penelope had done things she didn't like doing for him, so he could pretend that asking about Jules didn't make him want to vomit all over the fluffy white hotel robe he had on while laying in bed in the dark.

"Connor," Penny almost laughed, knocking her head of messy hair falling out of its ponytail against the closed door. "I know you don't want to talk about that."

"I'm trying, Pen." As a reaction, he chuckled back at himself. She had never agreed to being his dream girl, but he was committed to being her best friend.

"Connor," Her tone deepened and Penelope closed her tired eyes to prepare herself to be unabashedly honest. "I really like you and there's a part of me that wants for us to have a chance to be together."

"Really?"

"It pops into my mind out of nowhere way too often." It made her feel very uncool. "But our lives are so different right now. You got to know this isn't the right time..."

Connor was reluctant to agree. He had been fighting with himself since he saw Penelope in Paris looking like a lazy Sunday Disney Princess. He wanted to be her Prince Charming so bad, but there was no one in the world who was going to stand in the way of the music career he was currently building on the road, not even Penelope Hemmings.

"I know." Finally, through a congested throat, Connor cracked.

"Tonight Jules asked me out and I want to say 'yes', and while I don't need your permission, I don't want to lose you as a friend. I'm not going to say yes if it hurts you at all." She was firm and sincere. For Connor or anyone she loved, she would set aside her wants and needs. Being selfish gave her enough concussions that she couldn't partake in her favourite activities anymore. She wasn't even supposed to drive, so Penelope had learned to be more considerate. “You’re too important to me.”

Connor felt the power she was giving him. He wanted to abuse it and tell her how badly it would ache at him just to keep her single, keep her closer to him, but he knew how wrong that would be. It was just a date. It wasn't marriage. Connor leaned into his pillow and shut his eyes, Penelope's face hurt in the parking lot immediately coming into view.

"I want you to be happy." He meant it even if his voice sounded deeply pained. "And I really hope you have a good time." Connor felt confident that he could take Penny on a very memorable date when given the chance. In his head, he told himself he would fly her to a private island on a private plane and they could spend a night with their toes in the sand and their hair in the saltwater. Connor didn't know much about Jules beyond that he had one leg and played drums, but he doubted that he was any real competition. If Penelope saw something in him, it had to exist. She was no one's fool.

"Thank you." It was exactly what Penny needed to hear in order to tell Jules 'yes'. Connor's sentiment massaged at her conscience and she let a tiny sigh of relief as proof.

"And the stuff I said about your Dad - " Connor started and Penny began shaking her head rapidly.

"Let's not dive back into that, okay? I know you're sorry and that's what counts for me." Penelope really didn't want to drudge up all the horrible things they had said to each other. She had grown up accepting that people said things about her parents and other people in her life for the sake of selling news. Hearing rumors from her best friend's mouth was different than bright letters flashed on the internet. It brought up questions and questions she didn't want to consider.

"Okay." Connor confirmed to her plea. "I'm crashing. I have an early flight tomorrow." Really, today. "Skype soon?"

"You got it." Penny leaned into the phone, the heat it was radiating against her cheek only making her sleepier. "Love you, miss you." She mumbled before hanging up and dropping her phone between her knees. Penelope sat up against the door with shut eyes for a few minutes before picking herself up to strip out of her clothes. She thought, for a second, about texting Jules, but decided to go to bed and just talk to him in the morning on her way to school.

----

He had been walking a line and he knew it. Luke entered his house on pointed toes from the back door. The night hadn't slipped away from him even though he planned to tell Cagney that it had in order to avoid a fight. It wasn't as if they didn't usually drink when they were at the studio, but he hadn't planned to be recording the last song for their album deep into the night. He also didn't realize that their usual vodka drinks and cold beers would turn into shots. Luke did think he deserved a couple points for leaving his car behind and taking a cab home. He even made sure to drink a bottle of water before even calling for a ride. Luke dropped his keys causing a few jingles in the key of F as they hit the floor. He cursed himself out under his breath and bent down to get them. The light was new to them as he had shut his eyes upon reaching down to pick them up. Once standing upright, he looked around confused and then hung his head in defeat when he spotted Cagney, face red, in an old 5SOS shirt and a pair of black cotton shorts on the couch. She had a glass of wine sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

“I can explain -” He put both his hands up to stop her from speaking even though she wasn't about to.

“It's fine. You texted me. I really appreciate it.” Sniffling, she nodded over and over. It was the truth. When Cagney knew that he was okay or that things weren't going as planned, she felt better. It was when her mind was left to wander that she became nervous and upset.

Luke heard what she said, but he was concentrating more on her eyes. She had been crying. In fact, underneath her swollen red eyes, he could detect glistening which meant she had only just stopped.

“What happened?” Luke rushed over, feeling a burn in his throat from all the vodka he had consumed, but he pushed through and dropped to her side. His arm instinctively wrapped around her and pulled her close. Whether something awful had happened or it was just a hard day with the kids, he wanted to make things feel better. Luke had a hunch that would never change when it came to Cagney. He would always want to be the hero in her story. With the hand that had been on his leg, he reached up and wiped at her tear marks with his thumb. “Keg...” He kissed the side of her head, fly away hairs and all, and waited for her to explain. Since having children, she rarely had a hard time expressing herself. “Penny tough today?” She could be a stubborn when she wanted to be, Luke could admit it.

“No.” Cagney shook her head and frowned her forehead at the thought. This had nothing to do with Penelope. “She was great. Everybody was good.”

“Then what's going on?” Luke had never been very good when it came to guessing. He always felt out of the loop when it came to his own life.

“Dacre just left.” She swallowed and shared.

“Oh? I didn't know you guys had plans.” He knew Dacre and liked him. It was always nice to have a fellow Aussie in America. Luke personally felt like his people were better to party with not that he admitted it to any of his American friends who provided him with many good memories. It didn't strike Luke as odd that Cagney would catch up with old friends when they were spending time in the US. He imagined he would want adult company when cooped up all day with three children who could barely speak in audible English.

“I took Penny to the splash pad. He came with us.” Since coming to the US so Luke could finish the latest album, Cagney had decided to accept the help of babysitter and nannies, but just so she could have independent time with her eldest on occasion. It helped since Liz wasn't around to be an extra pair of hands when she needed them.

“Oh?” Luke nodded. He didn't really like the idea, but it wasn't worth mentioning, not when they were just getting close to reconnecting.

“Yeah, it was fun. I'm not feeling super swimsuit ready, so having him to - “

“You look great.” Luke shook his head at her words, turning them down with his scrunched up nose and kissed her lips. He was a little drunk and caught her completely off guard.

“Luke,” She slipped away from the touch of his arm and turned to him, one knee facing her wine glass and the other pointed at his groin. “Penny was in her room, she napped after, and...”

“What happened?” Luke expected the worst. He was waiting for Cagney to tell him their daughter fell and knocked her baby teeth out. “Is she okay?”

“She's fine. She’s fast asleep. Listen - “

“What's going on?”

“Dacre kissed me.” Cagney finally shut her husband up. Luke's back shot straight up and he stared off over his head, red glowing under his blue eyes from inside the pupils. “And I kissed him back.” Flames grew in rich hues, orange and yellow. Cagney glanced at Luke's hands, fingers gripping into the teal leather of their couch while his other nails dug into the skin exposed on his knees from the new frays in her black jeans. “We didn't have sex.” She thought, foolishly, that might make him exhale with relief, but he stayed still, burning a hole into the family photo of him, Cagney, and a newborn Penny behind him. “But we kissed for a long time....” She didn't know else to admit without saying they made out like horny teenagers in the pantry. “I know this is not okay,” Tears started to rush down Cagney's face. She felt shame and anger and she worried that Luke felt the same about her. “I hate myself.” She reached for him, looking to grab his hand on his knee with both her palms, but he pulled it away and let her fall onto the cushion between them. “I hate myself and you should hate me too, but I have felt so alone and you have been out all the time and - “

“Fuck you.” He muttered, a bonfire wild in his stare as he just barely glanced at her.

“I deserve that. You should yell at me.” She was shaking her head so viciously that she didn't notice that Luke was crying now. The fire raged on his glare, but tears were stinging at the dry skin that his face wore from being so dehydrated from the LA climate and his drinking habit. “But there's something else...” She had to purge. He needed to know everything if there was any chance that they would be okay.

“Fuck! What?” Luke threw his head back on the couch, his hands racing up and down his thighs as he tried not to overreact. What more could she possibly have to say? Was she leaving him? Was she pregnant? Was Dacre upstairs naked on his bed waiting for a threesome to commence? His own failure scratching inside the walls of his stomach. This was his fault, he knew it. He hasn't put her first, he hadn't turned himself around, he hadn't been enough...

“I think Penny saw us.”

Luke roared so loudly that his 'fuck' couldn't be made out properly. He stood up in a nanosecond and, with a force unknown to himself, he tossed their glass coffee table and the contents on it including stone coasters, her wine glass, and her cell phone across the room. Before he could scream at her or she could stifle her out of control crying, the sound of wailing cries from down the hall were unleashed. It was one of the babies and Luke instantly resented her for knowing which one since he couldn't tell their noises apart yet.

“When you're here, you're hung over and Dacre made me feel - “

Stopping her as she cried to him, gripping the stomach of his white shirt, Luke put his hand up in front of his face and pulled away. He needed to be comforted. He needed the same thing one of his sons did and he started to shake off his leather jacket as he headed to their nursery, readying to comfort his son and try to calm down himself. Cagney followed close behind him, trying to explain how Penny came into the pantry, but Luke closed the door on her and gathered March in his hands in the dark, singing through his painful tears 'Ten Years Gone' by Led Zeppelin. He could hear Cagney crying in the hallway, but she might as well have been on the other side of the world. They were going to need a lot of saving and Luke worried what they would become once he walked out of the nursery.

***********************

In the kitchen, Cagney wiggled her nose at the screen of her laptop that she had set up on the kitchen island. Most of her life since she turned eighteen had been travelling especially being married to Luke and making their relationship work, but she still always felt anxious when it came to travelling. So she always had to look over her airline itinerary a hundred times before she set off.

“Hello.” She took her eyes away from the screen and smiled at Luke as he strolled into the kitchen, yawning with his arms over his head. “Good morning.” She grinned as he came around and kissed her. With the conversation they had had the night before, she wasn't sure how romantic he would be feeling. It had been a long time since they almost stumbled even into a conversation about the roughest patch they encountered. Cagney was thrilled when she felt her husband pull her closer and suck on her bottom lip. It wasn't a usual morning kiss. “You're in a good mood? Excited to have the house to just you and the boys?” She teased, staring up at her tall man as he held her to his chest.

“I'm proud of us.” Very sincerely, he told her in a serious tone. “We are really good.” It didn't always feel like they would make it and yet he felt closer to Cagney than he had when they were young, child free, and travelling the world together.

“We are. We've built a good life.” Cagney agreed with a smile that made her entire face beam. She had been so grateful for the mountains they climbed. They had carried each other sometimes, but together they made it to the top and she knew now they could do it again with their boys going through high school and their daughter studying in Paris. They could do anything as long as they were together.

“Let's go for breakfast. When was the last time we just went out the two of us?” Luke had tried to remember when Miles and March were whipping by him, racing one another to see who could get to the end of the driveway to their bikes the fastest. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if it had actually happened or not.

“Not to an industry thing? I don't know.” They always had another couple with them or one of their kids.

“I got to take you for a date before someone else does.” Luke joked, not even realizing what an accomplishment that was for him. Cagney just melted closer, hugging his chest to her as she kissed him again. She had made her mistakes and Luke had made his, but she wasn’t going to risk even the hardest parts of their lives together for a fleeting moment of joy. As painful as some of their memories were, Luke and Cagney had both learned the hard way how to appreciate one another.

#5sos au #5sos imagine #luke hemmings au #luke hemmings imahine #lukehemmings imagine #luke hemmings imagine

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