mc-lukanette

[mc-lukanette]

MC-Lukanette’s “No Context November” 2024 Masterpost

` = ficlet

* = one-shot

^ = part of a larger AU/hypothetical story

{AO3 link for No Context November}

(Halloween bonus) * (5141 words) - Flip the Transcripts {Lukanette} [“Animaestro” Fix-It] [Writing Salt] [Psychological Horror] [Introspection] [Identity Reveal] [Hurt/Comfort]

Marinette could never understand why things never seemed to go her way, or why the tiniest mistakes could blow up in her face so drastically. It was as if she was on a stage for an audience, written to trip on every floorboard and smash her face into every wall for a cheap laugh.

Then, a crack in the universe gives her evidence to that reality, and she questions everything she’s ever known.

Day 1 ^ (2675 words) - {Lukanette} [Gift Giving] [Idiots in Love] [Silly] [Fluff]

Giving friends gifts is so standard that Luka barely gives it a thought. It's only when he notices a pattern that he suspects Marinette might have another motive for it.

Day 2 ` (1397 words) - {Lukanette} [“Ladybug” Fix-It] [Adrien Salt] [Girl Squad Salt] [Injuries] [Hurt/Comfort] [Luka Knows]

Luka comes home from school and finds himself horrified rather than delighted to see Marinette waiting for him.

Day 3 * (1866 words) - {LukaNoire} [Post-Dating] [Fluff] [Guardian Marinette] [Marinette Using the Cat Miraculous]

Luka admires his girlfriend while she wears a new miraculous to show off to him, but she has another reason for it compared to the usual.

Day 4 ^ (1274 words) - {Lukanette} [Adulthood] [Silly] [Idiots in Love] [Quantic Kids as Luka’s Friends] [Unreliable Narrator]

Marinette partakes in a discussion with Luka's friends, curious about the status of his relationships (or lack thereof).

Day 5 ^ (3322 words) - {Lukanette} [Childhood] [Silly] [Light Fantasy Elements] [Transformation] [Fairy Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Tiny Marinette Dupain-Cheng]

Luka listens to Marinette as she laments the reality of the world… until she doesn't.

Day 6 * (1811 words) - {Lukanette} [Injuries]

Marinette takes care of Luka after an incident, regardless of how ridiculous she thinks the cause is.

Day 7 ^ (2847 words) - {Lukabug} [“Glaciator” Fix-It] [Chat Noir Salt] [Fake Dating]

Following Chat getting upset at Ladybug over an imagined slight against him in "Glaciator", Ladybug decides to find an alternate solution to deal with the akuma.

Day 8 ^ (2378 words) - {Lukanette} [Adulthood] [Mute Luka Couffaine]

Marinette is eager to meet up again with the handsome, silent man she'd met just last week. She only expects to learn about what they'd agreed upon, but ends up getting a little more.

Day 9 * (1399 words) - {Lukanette} [Post-Dating] [Sickfic] [Fluff] [Spooning] [Flirting] [Silly]

Luka goes to visit and care for his sick (and slightly delirious) girlfriend. She has other priorities.

Day 10 ^ (1600 words) - {Lukanette} [Witch Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Fantasy] [First Meeting] [Silly]

Marinette, a witch struggling to present like one, seeks out inspiration and ends up finding it in an unlikely place.

Day 11 ` (1282 words) - {Lukanette} [Luka Knows] [Gaming] [Flirting] [Silly]

Luka sees Marinette playing a new mobile game and gets far more than expected when he asks about it.

Day 12 * (1646 words) - {Lukanette} [Gift Giving] [Fluff]

Marinette goes to meet with Luka for guitar lessons and gets a surprise. Luka gets one in return.

Day 13 ^ (2310 words) - {Lukanette} [Multiverse] [Guardian Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Guardian Luka Couffaine] [Ladybug User Luka Couffaine] [Alternate Miraculous Lore]

Marinette makes a casual visit to the one person she knows who understands what she's going through, even if he's an entire universe away.

Day 14 ^ (2062 words) - {Lukanette} [Adulthood] [Online Interactions]

Marinette, a popular online video creator, messages her musical friend, another popular online video creator. They may have made different types of content, but the connection between them was undeniable even if they'd never met in person.

Day 15 * (4571 words) - {Lukanette} [Introspection] [Overall Salt] [Marinette Won Pre-Season 3 Finale] [Identity Reveal] [Alternate Miraculous Lore]

After successfully defeating Hawk Moth and retrieving the butterfly and peacock miraculouses, Marinette makes a discovery that makes her question what she's thought so far about the people closest to her.

Fortunately, she now has all the time in the world to finally think about it.

Day 16 ` (1059 words) - {Lukanette} [Post-Dating] [Trauma] [Hurt/Comfort]

Marinette and Luka are happily dating, though there's one thing one might expect of them that they're still yet to do.

Day 17 ^ (1463 words) - {Lukanette} [Silly] [Luka Knows]

A simple misunderstanding that Luka and Marinette inadvertently cause ends with a favorable suggestion.

Day 18 * (1357 words) - {Lukanette} [Adulthood] [Post-Marriage] [Dreams] [Fluff]

Luka loves Marinette in every way he knows how, for every reason he can think of, even unconventionally.

Day 19 ^ (3692 words) - {Lukabug} [Canon Divergence] [Alternate Miraculous Lore] [Viperion-Adjacent Luka Couffaine] [Overall Salt]

Ladybug, thoroughly exhausted from her role as a superhero, meets a new face that threatens her position in every best way.

Day 20 ^ (3765 words) - {Lukanette} [Demon Luka Couffaine] [Adulthood] [Fluff] [Silly] [Fantasy] [Cuddles]

Marinette goes to extreme lengths to get the simple things she wants in her life. It somehow works out in the end.

Day 21 * (1104 words) - {Lukanette} [“Silencer” divergence]

In which Luka doesn't get away with dropping the sweetest confession that Marinette had ever heard, nor trying to walk away afterward without consequences.

Day 22 ^ (2925 words) - {Viperbug} {Vipernette} [Fluff] [Food]

Ladybug tries to make sure her long-time partner Viperion is taken care of, to delightful results.

Day 23 ^ (4443 words) - {Lukanette} [Adulthood] [Ten Years Later] [Meeting Again] [Mutual Pining] [Second Chance] [Single Parents] [Light Adrien Salt] [Silly]

What Marinette expects to be an innocent trip to the amusement park with her daughter turns into something more when she comes across a familiar face with a little boy at his side.

Day 24 * (5003 words) - {Lukanette} [Late Teens] [Sleepovers] [Physical Attraction] [Intimately Suggestive] [Idiots in Love]

As a way to celebrate the coming end of school and the future start of their careers, Marinette's friends pile onto the Liberty for one last sleepover, only separated by gender. All's fun and games until nighttime falls and she finds herself alone with Luka, her long-time, handsome, and definitely, totally one-sided crush.

(or, two half-dressed teens nearing adulthood try to deal with their growing attraction to each other)

Day 25 ^ (7465 words) - {Lukanette} [Childhood] [Mermaid Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Naga Luka Couffaine] [Fantasy] [Silly] [Festivals]

Marinette and Luka, two kids on a quest for fun and excitement, go somewhere they've never been before to participate in a festival.

Day 26 ` (1049 words) - {Lukanette} [Adulthood] [Post-Marriage] [Fluff] [Headcanon]

Luka wakes up in the morning and notices something different about himself.

Day 27 * (2410 words) - {Lukanette} [Soulmate AU] [Subversion] [Lore] [Childhood Friends] [Writing Salt]

For however long they'd been together, Luka had never really talked to Marinette about her soulmate mark, nor did she with his. They saw them, knew that theirs didn't match up, but that didn't mean they meant any less to each other.

Especially when, one day, Marinette poses a question to him.

Day 28 ^ (1898 words) - {Lukanette} [Rock Star Luka Couffaine]

Luka had always gone to Marinette when he needed to hide away from his rock star life. He just hadn't realized that he was the only one who wanted more out of it.

Day 29 ` (844 words) - {Lukanette} [Fluff] [Post-Dating] [No Dialog]

Two losers try to navigate the "struggles of dating."

Day 30 * (6589 words) - {Lukanette} [Infancy] [Childhood] [Adolescence] [Adulthood] [First Meeting] [Moments in Time] [Fluff] [Silly] [Cuddles] [Idiots in Love]

Some might call it fate. In the minds of others, it seemed more magical to think that it may have been a coincidence altogether: two people who connected in the blink of an eye and could remain close from before they said their first words, to the moment they left their childhood home, and even further beyond.

To think that it all started with a cuddle…

[mc-lukanette]

The bell of the bakery rang, followed by the sound of a pair of boots against the floor. Sabine looked up, brightening at the familiar faces.

"Tom! Look who's here!" she exclaimed, beckoning her husband closer with a wave of her hand.

Tom stopped putting a tray in the oven to look up, beamed, then remembered his task and hurried to finish so he could face their customer properly. Throwing off his oven mitts, he greeted happily, "Anarka! And you even brought little Luka!"

"Everything looks little to you, sailor," Anarka commented with a snort, though he wasn't wrong. She adjusted her one-armed grip on her baby boy, ensuring he was secure against her.

That, in all likelihood, wasn't an actual concern. Luka, despite his young age, had his tiny hands grasping tight to his mother's clothes, as if she would let go of him at any moment. Anyone could imagine him hanging on for dear life even without an arm supporting him.

"Did you come by for a teething rusk?" Sabine wondered. It'd been a special offer for any parent who needed them for their baby at no charge; she and Tom knew from experience how expensive babies could be regardless of such concerns, so they helped others where they could.

"No, but I wouldn't say 'no' to having a few." She raised two fingers. "But Luka's not the only one who needs them."

"Of course." Sabine got a bag ready. "Where is your other one? Sweet baby Juleka?"

Juleka was a quiet one, even more so than Luka, which was a strange thought when considering what their mother was like. It was to the point where you wouldn't know Juleka was there unless you saw her, but it was remained odd seeing a brother without his twin sister.

Anarka tossed her head back with a groan. "With a friend of mine. It's a handful having them together sometimes."

Tom chuckled. "I know just what you mean. Our Marinette is a handful all by herself!"

"Ahh—" She looked off to the side, then to Luka in consideration. Taking a step to be right against the counter, she put a hand to Luka's ear and moved his head so his other ear was against her clothes, keeping him from hearing much as she leaned close to them. "It's actually because of this one."

Tom and Sabine exchanged a look of concern. Was such a cute baby already getting a bad boy streak?

"Oh, they're not fighting," Anarka clarified, standing straight and uncovering Luka's ear, "but he has habits. Never seen a baby feeling suffocated by attention."

She gestured at the chubby hands that still hadn't let go of her. Tom put a hand to his chin, stroking his mustache with his index finger as he tried to piece together what she meant.

She pointed a finger at her son, stressing, "He. Hugs. Everyone."

Luka stared at her fingertip from under his thick, fluffy black hair, following the conversation about as well as the other two.

"That's... sweet?" Sabine commented, not seeing what the problem was.

Anarka shook her head. "Poor Juleka just needs to cry sometimes - babies do that, you know - but Luka squeezes anyone who looks just a little upset. I'm sure she loves him, but he doesn't know when to leave people alone. I had to keep them in separate cribs or he'd hold her all night, but then he gets fussy without something to hold."

That made somewhat more sense and made Sabine a little curious. She made eye contact with Tom expectantly, trying to convey her thoughts without words.

"Hm," he hummed, nodding along to the telepathic conversation, "I want to see it too, dear, but I can't cry on command."

"Think about our wedding day," she countered.

Instantly, Tom let out a choking noise. Doing an amazing performance as the "baby" of everyone in the room, including the actual baby, he grew misty-eyed and muttered, "You looked so beautiful..."

"ah," Luka uttered, the first sound that he'd made since getting there. He let go of Anarka's clothes, only leaving behind wrinkles to indicate that he'd been there, and reached both hands out towards Tom. He was so quick about it that he nearly fell forwards, Tom hurrying to take him in his hands before anything happened.

"See that?" Anarka chuckled, amused. Her tone was mischievous, as of course she wouldn't have let her boy actually fall.

Tom sighed in relief, not yet recovered from the shock. He held Luka carefully and glanced over to speak to him, "man-to-man," only to get a sudden smack to his face. "Ow!"

Sabine cooed, "I think he was trying to wipe your tears away."

"He's got a strong arm for his age!" Tom half-cheered, half-protested, taking one hand off of Luka to rub the tiny mark forming on his cheek.

"That he does." Anarka puffed out her chest with pride and patted her fist against it. "He'll be throwing scoundrels overboard in no time."

Sabine raised a brow at her, wondering if she should be worried, but her thoughts drifted as she looked back at Tom. Seeing him hold a baby reminded her, "Oh, he hasn't met Marinette yet, has he?"

Tom gasped in realization. "He hasn't!" He met Anarka's gaze, questioning, "Should we have a little playdate for them?"

"Your girl is here?" She put a hand on her hip, surveying the room skeptically.

Sabine cut in, looking under the counter at something. "She was napping when we checked on her, but she's awake right now. You two can head up, I'll take care of things here."

Thus, Anarka followed Tom out the back of the bakery and up the stairs, with Tom rambling about the balance between working the bakery, having enough surveillance on Marinette so they knew when she'd need them, and getting others to babysit when it became too much. They didn't have relatives nearby besides Tom's father, who "wasn't around despite being around" as Tom delicately put it, while his mother was off traveling who knew where.

Ergo, their friends helped when needed.

Quietly as a mouse, which was funny considering his size, Tom slowly and cautiously opened the door to the living room. While Marinette had been asleep before, visually apparent from the few strands out of place amongst her soft black hair, they found her sitting in a playpen and playing with a stuffed animal. She'd lay down, holding it above her, then let it drop, but whatever reaction she expected it to make appeared to disappoint her - as much as a baby could sound disappointed - and she'd try again.

Anarka glanced up, spotting a camera in the corner of the room aimed at the baby girl, and guessed that was how Sabine knew Marinette had been awake. She gave it a faux salute, then turned when Tom started talking again.

"We've been calling it Marinette-proof," he explained, indicating the playpen itself and the toys inside. "You wouldn't believe it unless you saw it yourself. We gave her one of those little toys - the ones where you put the shapes in the holes - but not the hard ones; you blew them up with air. She was having a blast until she tried to throw one into the hole; it missed and bounced off, then bounced off the side of the playpen and hit her square in the face!"

He directed a hand to his own face to show roughly where it hit her while Anarka whistled, sympathetic but almost impressed by the bad luck on display. She was seeing a future child of chaos, surely.

She approached and leaned over the playpen, supporting herself with an arm against the edge of it as she wondered aloud, "What's she up to?"

Tom came up beside her and leaned over to get a fully unobstructed view of his daughter. "That one's supposed to stick to her, but she doesn't know how to make it do that." He sighed, but smiled tiredly. "She likes to be held during all the time we can't make for her. She's probably ignoring me because I had to put her down last. Isn't that right, pudding cup?"

Marinette didn't react, nor did she to the pitiful noise Tom made afterwards.

Upon closer inspection, Anarka spotted the soft pads on the end of the stuffed animal's arms, figuring that they'd stick to each other when brought together. While Tom's observation seemed accurate that Marinette didn't get how it worked, she at least appeared to be making a game out of dropping the stuffed animal on herself, or maybe it was only generally giving her some form of satisfaction.

Luka, whose back was facing the playpen due to him being held against Tom's chest, turned his head to follow the attention of the two adults, which was directed solely on Marinette. While she had largely ignored the two adults, the new set of eyes on her made her look up.

Anarka's baby boy and Tom and Sabine's baby girl made eye contact for the first time.

Then, without a prompt or question, Luka let go of Tom's shirt and stretched his arms out for Marinette. He pitched forward like before, trying to launch himself into the playpen headfirst, and Tom made a panicked move to keep him from plummeting for the second time that day.

"You only have one mother!" he whisper-yelled. "Do you want to lose her to a heart attack?"

Anarka, intrigued, reached out to take her son in her arms, slowly putting him down next to Marinette. "He's never done that to someone who wasn't upset, who wasn't his sister..."

Both babies stared at each other in some unspoken staring contest, Luka's arms still out as he leaned towards her. The stuffed animal, once so interesting to Marinette that it'd had her full attention, was set aside without so much of a glance at it. She stretched her arms out and went towards him as well, losing her balance but falling against him.

They both went down onto the soft surface at the bottom of the playpen, letting out little noises and giggles that almost made it seem like they were having a conversation. Tom and Anarka waited, though they weren't quite sure for what: for Marinette to finally get bored of being held by someone and push Luka away, or for Luka to finally reach his limits of holding onto someone and let go?

Neither happened. They moved occasionally, rolled around, got back up just to fall over each other again, but never released one another.

Anarka grinned, waving her wrists about to make her bracelets jingle and see if it might get their attention, but they were completely distracted. "I think my son's found himself a co-captain!"

"A what?"

—————

From there, Anarka brought Luka over as much as possible. There was no reason not to and both Luka and Marinette received all the benefits from it. It was perhaps a little early to call them playmates before they could fully understand the concept, but they enjoyed seeing each other. They brightened whenever they made eye contact and curbed the other's "worst" habit.

The parents let the other babysit for them at times. Anarka could take Marinette when Tom and Sabine were too busy, and Tom and Sabine could take Luka when Anarka needed a break from dealing with twins. Marinette and Luka had even slept in the same crib on occasion.

It was precious. The parents were fairly sure the two didn't know what sharing was yet, but the babies would play together, wait their turn when being fed, and showed each other their toys.

That wasn't to say there weren't problems, but they were purely emotional, meaning realizing their baby had a new favorite person that wasn't them.

The worst of it was when the babies started to talk. Tom and Sabine had been holding out (maybe even placed a bet or two on which of them would be her first word), but they knew deep down that Marinette's utterance of "uuka" was not just a random noise.

On Anarka's end, she had the relative luxury of pretending that "Mah" was for "Mama" and not the first part of Marinette's name.

—————

Inevitably, the babies started to grow up into semi-functioning human beings. It was speculated that they might start unattaching from each other as they gained more personality, still being friends but not clinging to each other as much. However, that did not happen, which served as something both sickeningly adorable but headache-inducing.

The moment Luka could walk without falling and memorize a path he'd been carried through over and over, Tom and Sabine caught him at the door to the bakery. He could barely open it himself, but looked up with bright, Marinette-seeking eyes like he'd done nothing wrong, all while the two co-owners peeked outside frantically for any sign of his mother.

They made sure to keep the side door locked starting that day, just to make sure Marinette wouldn't sneak out to see him too.

Since they were old enough to grasp the concept of sharing now, that was exactly what they did. Whenever one brought toys over to the other's to share, at least one or two stayed there, and Anarka laughed when she commented that Luka had about 60% of Marinette's toys and only 40% of his own in his room.

Not that it really mattered. They saw each other so often that they never regretted leaving a toy with the other, and there was a mutual unspoken promise that they'd take good care of them. The only reason the parents themselves could tell whose toy it was, even if they couldn't remember who they bought them for, was based on the type of toy it was: Luka leaned towards musical toys or ones that made sounds while Marinette liked colorful toys or ones that had her solving problems.

Luka even left his little guitar with Marinette once; his guitar, simply because she told him that she liked how it sounded! The situation was remedied when she realized that it didn't sound good without him, but it showed how close they were.

They still slept together from time to time, and not always because they stayed the night at the other's house. After a day of hard work (play), they could be found peacefully passed out together, either on the bed or a little blanket they'd put down to play on so they wouldn't be sitting on the hard floor.

It wasn't always the same. Sometimes there'd be a stuffed animal between them, or Luka's child-sized guitar would still be strapped to him like he'd lulled them both to sleep with his playing, and other times it was apparent that they'd deliberately set everything aside for a nap. On rarer occasions, they'd have tiny crumbs on their mouths, indicative of having raided the fridge for snacks before settling down to sleep.

Snacks they fed each other, in all likelihood.

It was difficult to get mad about it. Tom took pictures while Sabine sighed and made excuses about it being their fault for not hiding the sweets well enough. It probably didn't help that Anarka thought it was positively delightful, more proud than anything else when such little kids could coordinate so efficiently to find snacks no matter where or how high up they were.

On one day in particular, Tom and Sabine awoke to the small knocking noises against their bedroom door. Sabine slipped out and headed over to the door, opening it to find their little girl on the other side.

"Marinette? What's wrong?" she asked in concern.

Marinette sniffled, dressed in her pajamas but certainly not in bed. A plush was attached to her arm, as she actually got how those worked nowadays.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Sabine pressed.

Marinette nodded, looking ashamed by the fact.

"Aww, gumdrop," Tom began, getting out of the bed as well. He lifted the blanket and gestured towards the center of the mattress, offering, "Come here. You can sleep with us for the night."

She blinked her shimmering eyes at the spot indicated for her, then Sabine, then back at Tom. Finally, she shook her head, saying with a pout, "No. I want Luka."

Tom's expression cracked like an egg into flour, the man having never felt so betrayed in his life.

—————

Years continued to pass, and with the passage of time came Marinette and Luka continuing to grow up. Toys were slowly traded out for more consistent hobbies and the parents were still cherishing the precious moments when they could call their child their "baby" without any fuss about it.

Of course, with that came the cuddling elephants in the room that Tom and Sabine had consistently put off over and over, because how do you tell two preteens who had been sleeping together since literally before they could even remember that they shouldn't anymore?

"The longer we put this off, the harder it's going to be on them," Sabine said, trying to be the voice of reason between the two. It was a slow day at the bakery, making it easier for them to have a conversation.

Tom made a noise at the back of his throat, not at all enthusiastic at the idea. He hit the dough he was kneading in a mini fit of exhaustion, specks of flour being flung off onto his apron. "Maybe Anarka will talk to Luka about it soon?"

The two made eye contact for a long, considering moment, then shook their heads. Anarka was not going to talk to Luka, and they knew that. She found their relationship as "co-captains" (a term which Tom still had not gotten an explanation for) to be something that shouldn't be intruded upon.

Sabine tapped on the counter, then bent down to grab an "out on break, be back soon" sign they hadn't needed since Marinette was much, much younger. She headed over to the front door and hung it, then spun around to face Tom, hands on her hips in a show of confidence.

"We should do it now."

"Now?" he repeated, having not been given any time to prepare.

"They're both here." She pointed upwards. "We'll get it out of the way, and then we'll never have to think about it again."

Reluctantly, he relented and followed her to their self-designated fate. No matter how used to cuddling Luka and Marinette were, they were still a boy and a girl who were exhibiting signs of puberty, and it was hard to know what might happen going forward.

When they reached the top of the stairs next to the kitchen, Sabine knocked to let them know they'd be coming in. There was no answer, so she knocked again, louder, but the room on the other side remained quiet.

Exchanging a knowing look, the two invited themselves in, expecting to see the preteens lying down on the chaise lounge or Marinette's bed (in the worst case scenario), yet they weren't on either. While they initially feared that the two had snuck out for some rebellious preteen shenanigans, they noticed the abandoned guitar near the wall - Luka wouldn't have left without that - and light pouring in from above the bed.

They headed up themselves, careful not to make too much noise, and peeked up at the balcony to confirm their suspicions.

There, of course, were the two sources of their concern, sharing one lounge chair instead of the two they had blatantly bought so they had separate and equally comfy places to sit. Luka had seemingly laid down first, but with one socked foot on the floor and his legs crossed. The action gave Marinette ample legroom on the footrest as she slept on top of him, her face against him to hide from the sun while her hand gripped his hoodie. She was in just the right position for Luka to curl against her, hiding his own face against her hair while he held her.

They were like two black kittens sunbathing together.

Sabine hesitated. So did Tom. They looked at each other for a solid minute, having a wordless discussion on the matter, then sighed and left the two alone.

It wasn't a moment of weakness, they told themselves; it was just better than the alternative where the two resorted to cuddling and sleeping together in secret at Anarka's place instead of where they could see them.

—————

Juleka didn't have any particular feelings about her brother cuddling someone. Marinette was her friend, which was practically guaranteed to happen with how much Marinette came over when they were young and also now. Her mother told her stories of Luka's habit as a baby that bothered Juleka at times but perfectly aligned with Marinette's, and that checked out.

She felt the nice balance of their relationship the way it was. Luka cared about her, doted on her, but she was given space to herself when needed. In a home where they shared a room, it was nice to know that he had other places he could go or be at just about any time.

There was at least one moment when she realized that she was bothered by the seemingly endless capacity for affection on display, but it hadn't been jealousy that someone else was getting her brother's attention.

Rather, it was jealousy that her brother was getting to cuddle a cute girl, a feeling that Juleka shelved for a couple years until she could make sense of it.

Overall, she considered it a positive for all involved. Most entertaining, actually, were the people who didn't know about it and came to hang out for the first time, an occasion that Juleka put her full focus towards.

Her most vivid memory was having a group of friends over: ones who knew Marinette, but hadn't met Luka yet. She'd considered warning them, but decided it'd be funnier to catch the reaction in real time and took them down to the lounge room.

Luka was there, and of course he was because Marinette was there too. The two stared when Juleka and her friends entered, oblivious as to why they were getting looks. Marinette even had the audacity to ask, "What?"

A sight Juleka had grown all too used to seeing was right in front of her again: Marinette in Luka's lap, which was just as much of a home for her as it was for Luka's guitar. Said guitar was atop her lap instead, Marinette leaning against Luka and making it easy for him to put his arm around her to reach the guitar's neck.

"Hey, Jule," Luka greeted, unphased and not putting much thought into the reactions.

The total nonchalance he had about getting "caught" caused Juleka's friends to turn their eyes to her instead, desperate for an explanation. She mumbled a greeting back to Luka and turned away, pretending to look in the cupboard for snacks whilst trying to contain her laughter.

—————

It was inevitable, perhaps, that word would spread at Marinette's school. The bakery was right next to it, thus making for an easy view of the balcony. It wasn't like Luka and Marinette were at all careful either, not getting why they would ever have to hide how close they were.

In a way, it was more surprising that it took until Marinette was a teenager for it to be brought up. She had been sitting in the cafeteria, biting into an apple, when a hand slammed down on the table. She peered past the fruit to see Chloe, who normally disappeared around lunch to eat elsewhere, but apparently had nothing better to do that day than to bother her.

"Hey, Marinette DuPlain-Jane," she sneered, searching through her phone rather than looking at her.

Marinette munched idly, wondering how many hours Chloe spent coming up with that. A voice in her head pointed out, That's generous. It was a week at least.

The same voice corrected a second later, Actually, bet Sabrina came up with it.

She'd been bullied by Chloe for years, so she'd had countless memories of going to the Liberty rather than home in order to cry in Luka's arms as soon as possible. He held her the whole time without complaint, serving as her support outside of school.

"I'm with you," he'd promised at one point, squeezing her middle and pulling her against him. She could still imagine the sensation of his warmth against her, developed over all their time together, and his voice next to her sounding so pained due to being unable to physically be there for her.

It felt like so long ago, which was also when she'd stopped crying. She put up with the bullying, knowing that the staff didn't really care anyway, and calmed herself thinking of all the conversations she and Luka had over her, as well as the conversations she would have with him in the future.

For example, he'd scoffed when she told him about being in the same class as Chloe that year and getting bullied the very same day. "So you grew up, and she didn't? How is she still in your class?"

Marinette just barely managed to suppress a snort as the line replayed itself in her head, not wanting to instigate Chloe any further than Chloe instigated herself against her. That said, the bullying largely bounced off of her now that she was in her mid-teens.

With a noise loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear, Chloe slammed her phone down on the table. On the screen was an image of Luka on the Liberty, sleeping on a lounge chair with Marinette on top of him as usual. Lounge chairs were always their favorites when they sunk down in the middle like it wanted to be an understudy for a hammock; it helped keep them close together.

"Sleeping with a boy?"Chloe asked, also deliberately loudly. "What do you think the whole school's going to think about this?"

Marinette wondered if Chloe could send that picture to her. Excluding the shoddy photo-taking job, it was of her and Luka, and she could always digitally edit it to fix any weirdness.

Point being was that she didn't see what there was to be ashamed of, but telling Chloe that wouldn't go anywhere. While she didn't tend to engage with Chloe when she was being bullied, it was fun to do it every now and then when she could think of something to say that might be fun to tell Luka later. He'd hold her tenderly while listening to her, and his warm, low laugh would echo in her mind for the whole day afterwards.

Glancing at the photo again, Marinette put her apple down and muttered, "How embarrassing."

"Isn't it?" Chloe's smirk widened. "Because I'm about to send it—"

"For you," Marinette corrected with faux concern. "Of course you think it's embarrassing when you've never had a boyfriend before. You're still young."

Whatever Chloe was going to say next, it cut off with a choking noise. "Wha—I'm just as old as you!"

"Couldn't tell." She grabbed the stem of her apple, turning it to spin the fruit on her tray. "So something else bothered you? Oh—" She placed her other hand to her mouth in mock surprise, though she actually grimaced at the thought it conjured up when she said, "Sorry, I'm not interested in girls."

Chloe flushed bright red, either in shame, embarrassment, or both. She might've exploded right then and there by trying to start an actual fight if she felt that she could get away from it.

No longer hungry - not after Chloe breathed in the general direction of her food - Marinette slowly got up from her seat and picked up the tray.

"You—how dare you—!" Chloe hissed.

Giving her just a little more attention that she didn't deserve, Marinette gave her a once-over, eyeing the red cheeks, the blue eyeshadow, and the blond hair. Pointing to Chloe's face, Marinette added, "By the way, yellow, red, and blue are a really bad combination on you."

With that, she left, glad that Luka with his receptive hearing wasn't around to hear the shrill yell behind her.

—————

Luka let out an exhausted sigh, taking a moment to relax against the wall of a building. His part-time job wasn't awful, but it could be tiring with all the biking around and infrequent "bad" customer. Marinette tended to scold him when he looked too worn out (whatever standard that was), fretting over his whole body and reminding him to take breaks.

Thus, he made sure to do so whenever he could. Maybe he could've gotten away with not taking a break if he knew he wasn't going to be seeing her after work, but such instances were few and far between. They saw each other often enough that he probably had more pictures of him with her in his phone than with his own sister.

Not only because taking pictures together gave him an excuse to text her later to send it over.

He smiled to himself, glancing at the thin, red object hanging off of his bike. It was actually something meant to hang up in cars, but Marinette had gotten it for him as a gift.

"The smell of strawberries always perks me up!" she'd told him at the time. "Maybe it'll work for you too!"

He knew it wouldn't, but happily accepted it anyway. He could never say no to her and wouldn't dare refuse anything he could add to his collection of Marinette's various presents to him.

The reason he knew that it wouldn't work was because Marinette smelled like strawberries. After literal years of cuddling, he'd associated her with the scent, which brought him a sense of calm, warmth, and home. The "perking up" was only when she invited him over or told him she needed him, adding an extra rush to his steps.

That didn't stop him from hanging the air freshener on his bike, giving it a playful tap whenever he got off as if to say 'I'll be right back,' and enjoying the scent whenever he biked anywhere. Even the picture of strawberries on it reminded him of Marinette, as strawberries were shaped similarly to her pigtails back when she still had them.

His friends at school rolled their eyes whenever they saw it, but it was all in good fun. They'd seen him with her so many times - enough that they could joke "where there's a Marinette, there's a Luka" and vice versa - and never hesitated to tease him or ask if they'd "finally" gotten together. Juleka wasn't immune to it either, though had learned that she'd get the same answer every time.

Luka couldn't comprehend the obsession everyone had with what his relationship with Marinette was, nor the looks he'd get when he said they weren't dating but weren't "just friends." To him, Marinette wasn't a friend, wasn't a best friend, nor his girlfriend. She was, however, special to him, which was about as far as he went to put any sort of "label" on what they had.

His mother had used the term "co-captains" before, which he accepted but wouldn't use himself. How would one begin to describe a bond that extended past what they could remember?

He thought of it in the same way he thought of music. Words weren't always enough to carry emotion, and a person could be made to feel with music alone even if there weren't lyrics to tell them what the sound was trying to convey.

Luka was Luka, Marinette was Marinette, and together they just were. He could've searched for a word that might define what they had, but he didn't need to: he and Marinette understood on an abstract level what they had and that was what mattered.

A guitar without strings, a piano without keys, and a drum without a drumskin: all things that remained physical but ultimately incomplete. That was how he felt, as Marinette had been a core part of his very being and he didn't want to - couldn't, really - imagine life without her.

He paused, contemplative, then pulled out his phone and tapped down some notes. Such thoughts could make for a good song, he figured.

He sent the notes to Marinette first, as usual.

—————

Seasons passed, fashion trends faded, and songs moved onto the next verse, but Marinette and Luka's relationship stayed the same: older and wiser, sure, yet no less attached at the hip. Whether it was a driver's license or graduation, they shared their experiences with the other, who celebrated like it was their own.

Luka, being older than Marinette, had deliberately held off on going anywhere, so Juleka moved out before him. Moving out tended to mean going farther away and there weren't any places he could go that both suited him and were just as close (or closer) to the bakery.

It seemed utterly ridiculous to anyone who knew, because it wasn't as if the distance was going to stop them. They were both perfectly capable of driving and each had either a bike or a Vespa, thereby making a little extra distance negligible, but it was about the conscious choice for Luka. The path they'd both walked to reach each other from childhood to adulthood was precious to him, and they walked that path even when they had other options. To make the decision to move further away than he already was, it was unthinkable.

He never said any such thing out loud, but Marinette knew. She too had a fondness for the places they'd been together, her balcony alone littered with recollections of being there with Luka to spotting Luka walking along the path below, which often led to her rushing down the stairs at full speed to meet him at the door. She never called it nostalgia, as she wasn't sad to leave it behind, but only on the condition that it meant newer, closer experiences with him.

"We'll just have to move in together. It's the only way," she concluded at some point when he'd brought up the topic of her ideal home. She noticed his awestruck face, feeling almost shy but not really, and shrugged. "Finding two places close enough together might be a problem, and we don't even know if it'll be as easy as the way between the Liberty and the bakery." She made a motion of drawing a line between them, which was a difficult task when they were pressed together. "Unless you—"

"Yes," Luka interrupted immediately. He squeezed her tight and murmured another affirmative into her shoulder, though it was more of a sound than a word. It was like when they were still babies and Luka wanted something but didn't have the vocabulary to express it.

She buried herself against him and echoed the same sound back at him.

—————

To absolutely no one's surprise, finding a place to settle into did nothing to curb the habits of old. If anything, they got worse, as Marinette and Luka "didn't have to waste valuable time heading to see each other" that they could've already been spending with each other. Marinette might've wished she'd done it with him sooner if she hadn't known that her poor parents would've protested at the idea of her leaving the proverbial nest so soon.

But now, the two without a label were free to do as they wished. That meant holding hands whenever they weren't busy doing anything, still staying close when they were busy doing something, and making sure their house had seating that had its hammock-esque quality so they could sink against each other all over again. They got a bed to share that was cheaper than one that two people might buy normally, confident that they wouldn't need one at full width since they already slept so close anyway.

There were also new experiences to be had that they either couldn't fully take in while living separately or didn't have the occasion to before. Luka would hug Marinette from behind when she was cooking, or she'd swoop in to squeeze him when he'd come out into the living room in a bathrobe she'd made for him, fresh out of a shower.

Discussing meals they wanted to have over the course of the week, trying to sync their off days so they could make plans together, always being ready for the other to fall into their arms after a particularly hard day, and the list went on. They'd done just about everything, and it was as perfect as they could've asked for.

Marinette was thinking exactly that as she woke up one morning, not bothering to move since she didn't have anywhere in particular to be. Luka was waking up himself, smiling down at her and keeping her comfortably in his arms. It was difficult not to sync their sleeping schedules with how they were, finding the bed too tempting when the other was laying on it, so they often woke up as one unit.

She was amazed when she thought about it, how one moment from their infancy could lead up to this. Anarka had told her the story before of how they met, a baby girl sitting alone in her playpen and the baby boy who reached his arms out to her. She couldn't say what had been running through her infant mind at the time, but she was glad she reached back.

Visions of the past came together, of Luka when he was a child accepting snacks she fed him, of Luka as a teenager with his arm reaching out to her on pure muscle memory, and finally the adult Luka of the present who lived with her. She saw the highlights in his hair that he'd asked her to pick the color for, the piercings in his ears that he'd gotten while she held his hand in case it hurt him, and the lips that whispered words of comfort and affection to her whether she needed or simply wanted them.

Without another thought, she kissed those very lips. There wasn't any fanfare, or a grand declaration, or any other indication of it prior beyond the heat in her gaze; it just felt right. They'd held hands, they'd cuddled, they'd licked bits of melted chocolate or sauce from the other's fingers, and they'd pressed their foreheads together for minutes on end. Kissing was natural, like they'd been doing it forever or it was an extension of everything they'd done before.

As she pulled away, he followed after her, not letting the contact break for even a moment. His arms went further around her, one hand going lower towards her hip and the other to her shoulder. His kiss was slow at first, then more fervent when she grabbed at him to keep him close.

It wasn't a next step in their relationship, nor changed it in any significant way. The love that flowed off their tongues when calling the other's name had been there for a long time, and they would continue to do everything they already did. It was just more of each other, only with less talking.

They didn't leave the bed until their stomachs protested for them to eat, an unintentional mirror image of two babies sharing a crib until they were made to separate.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette and Luka both knew they had a problem. It'd begun when they'd started dating and only escalated from there.

Neither had really noticed anything in the beginning, nor did anyone else. Those outside of their relationship were busy dealing with the shock that the two had even gotten together in the first place. Granted, some surprise was understandable as, unlike other matters that were given spotlights for all to see, they had been developing their bond in the privacy of each other's company, where no one could tell them how to feel or think.

Once the others had accepted that reality, then came the realization that the two were not as simple as they initially thought. They saw the hyperactive Marinette calm simply by standing next to Luka, they saw the laid-back Luka break into a run whenever he heard that Marinette had arrived, they saw the clumsy Marinette only trip and fall purposefully as a teasing excuse to be held by her boyfriend, and they saw the quiet Luka laugh loud enough to scare off nearby pigeons.

They did everything together, or at least tried their absolute hardest to. Marinette would bring Luka sandwiches made with fresh bread from the bakery, as opposed to the quicker and unhealthier meals he would've grabbed thoughtlessly when he was busy with a song and didn't see a need when it was only him eating. Luka, meanwhile, would come up with lullabies for when Marinette was tired but unable to sleep, often leading to the two napping blissfully on the couch side-by-side.

It was because of such things that no one expected anything wrong. They could chalk it all up to Marinette being well-rested and Luka being well-fed, which was how it went for a while. They would catch the two sitting on a couch, on a bed, on anything they could find that had enough room for the both of them, cozying up to each other as they got into their creative processes. Luka would play his guitar and write new music as it came to him, whereas Marinette would sit and sketch or sew depending on her mood, both unquestionably productive.

The problem? Now they were too productive.

It wasn't uncommon for friends to spot the two in positions that they were sure must be uncomfortable, such as Luka balancing Marinette and his guitar on his lap while they both created away for their next project. Marinette occasionally traded out one sketchpad for another if it was more convenient, allowing her to rest it on Luka's guitar so he could play while she had a surface to draw on. Their friends made faces at them, but they seemed wholly oblivious to it.

Even during sleepovers where one couldn't go home due to how dark it was outside (after stalling for long enough to reach that point), sleep wasn't always a viable option. One or both of them would squirm with a restless mind and reach for the nearest paper or instrument to get in an hour more of output.

That, of course, gave Luka more of a reason to play Marinette a lullaby later so they could nap together, effectively generating an endless sickeningly sweet cycle of creating, napping, eating, and sleeping together. It was enough to make even the more romantic couples feel single.

One might think there would be burnouts or times where neither could do anything, but those were remedied as fast as they came or, more accurately, as soon as the other noticed. When Luka reached such a point, fingers lingering on the strings without the ability to play, Marinette would kiss his face, or whisper sweet nothings into his ear, or tell him how amazing it sounded so far, and he would be at it again with renewed spirits. When it was Marinette who struggled, her pencil mindlessly scribbling more than drawing, he would walk her through it and whisper suggestions or his own thoughts into her ear, even awful ones, which gave her enough to bounce off of or a clearer path to go down.

It wasn't uncommon to find Luka at the entrance to the bakery, or Marinette going across the gangplank to the Liberty, a skip in their step and a fresh new idea to drop on the other. There were at least a handful of occasions where they'd met halfway unexpectedly on their way to visit the other, which led to them plopping down in the nearest cafe to talk rather than delay by going to either's home.

Some weeks, they would have stacks of papers lined up from everything they'd done and would discuss them over the weekend. One particular incident led to a makeout session that knocked the stacks over and sent them flying. Sketches mixed with songsheets, colors mixed with blacks and whites, and neither could be bothered to care as their work fluttered over one another and spread out onto the floor.

Marinette and Luka both knew they had a problem. They just had no interest in finding a solution.

[mc-lukanette]

Thanks. I should be there in five minutes.

The reply came a few seconds later.

Okay! I'll keep an ear out for you!

Near the end of those five minutes, Luka was still dashing down the sidewalk, mentally cursing himself for daring to almost be late. They didn't have any particular plans and he'd only really said it as a guess that didn't mean much, but he could just imagine Marinette standing by the door with her hearing trained intensely on it.

It would've been cute if he wouldn't have felt bad for it.

He knew it wasn't technically his fault. He'd nearly been recognized and she tended to be his safe place to go to, but then most of the detours he knew of had him running into more risk. Hiding his hair and the lower half of his face apparently weren't enough anymore to stop people from doing a double take at him.

Maybe he'd been in this place for too long on his break, but she was there. He simply didn't want to leave, not if it meant losing the "rock star's safe haven," as he called it in his head.

Footsteps still pounding as he ran, he was within arm's reach of the door when it flew open. Without a word, he slipped inside and Marinette shut it behind him. He let himself breathe, pushing his hood up and pulling his face mask down.

Sighing in relief, he said, “You're a lifesaver, as always,”

She laughed him off. “You don't have to go that far.”

“But I do,” he replied. “You're risking a lot letting me hide here. If anyone finds out you're doing it—”

“Stop.“ She raised a hand, turning her face away from him with a faint blush. “It's really not a big deal.”

He pouted a bit, but let the praise go for the time being. He understood, on some level, that she'd done it before for other famous people she knew (the people he'd have to thank if he ever met them, since it led to him meeting her), but it didn't make it any less special.

Not to him, anyway.

Marinette, strolling across the room and waving a hand at all the seating in the living room, asked without looking back at him, “You want any snacks?”

Any kind of food sounded good after the running he did. “Please. Anything's fine.”

As she left the room, he went and plopped himself down on the recliner, going about removing the hoodie he'd been using to keep himself hidden. He also took off the face mask entirely and set them both neatly on the table.

She returned from the kitchen a moment later, tossing a bag of chips at him and sitting down on the couch with one of her own. She popped it open, then hesitated before asking him, “Do you like soup?”

He nodded impulsively, though he honestly was neutral to it overall. “Why?”

“I was gonna make some later, and I—” She made an unreadable gesture. “—I bought too many ingredients when I was at the store, so there'd be leftovers if you didn't have any.”

Huh. Luka didn't doubt that she could've made a mistake on her mental shopping list, but more of all of her ingredients sounded too odd to be a mistake. He could've sworn as well that she'd told him how much she didn't like leftovers, back when she'd ramble about her creative process and forcing herself to take a break by cooking or baking something everyday.

Unless, of course, Marinette had intentionally prepared to make more because of him, in which case he wasn't lying anymore about liking soup.; it just so happened to have shot up on his list of appealing foods all of a sudden.

“We can't have that,” he said with a grin, opening the chip bag in his hands. “Do you mind me staying that long?”

“Not at all!” she insisted. She dug into her own bag and pulled out a single chip, telling him before she put it in her mouth, “Besides, I want to catch up. Have you come up with any new music?”

“No—” He caught himself, realizing it was the instinctive answer he'd been giving to anyone involved with his rock star life, then corrected to, “Nothing I want out there.”

“Oh.” She leaned back, thoughtful. “I get it. Sometimes I make something just for me without wanting to put it out there. I didn't know it worked the same for music.”

He tried not to be obvious about the hearts in his eyes he was throwing her way. She just got him so easily and he did the same for her. He didn't have that many creative people in his life, but even those he did have saw creativity as something so casual. He cared dearly for his sister's wife, for example, yet knew that the finer nuances of creating things went over her head.

Marinette hummed, somewhat disconcerted. “You're not in any... trouble, are you?” She pouted, twisting a corner of the chip bag to the point it formed wrinkles. “I know how much people think we can just rush the process.”

He smiled, appreciating the concern, and shrugged at her. ”They do want me to get back out there, but I'm not going to force it.”

There was a flicker of what he was fairly sure was disappointment in her eyes when he mentioned touring again. He didn't comment on it, but silently hoped he'd caught it correctly and it wasn't just him.

Reaching into his bag for a few chips, he took one between his lips and tipped his head back, opening his mouth to send the chip fully in from the momentum. He chewed, swallowed, then gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Or maybe I'll just retire.”

“Wha—?” Marinette was so shocked that her tightened grip on the bag audibly crushed a couple of poor chips. “Retire?”

Luka had never said it aloud to anyone before, but he had been thinking about it for a few months now. At first, it was more like a joke to himself, an amusing musing on if he did quit and how much chaos that would've spread across the world from the suddenness of it. Then, it became more serious the more he joked about it, thinking about how free he would be and how much he wouldn't have to wither away like whenever he was forced to make something he genuinely wasn't invested in. He thought it would be easier when he initially started out, that he could just create and wouldn't have to bear witness to parts of himself he didn't like.

In what should've been obvious to him, it hadn't ended up that way. He glanced over to check Marinette's reaction and, rather than any displeasure with the idea, she appeared sad for him.

“I didn't know it was that bad,” she admitted. “I thought you just didn't like people recognizing you in your off time.”

“I don't, but it's everything else too,” he explained. Giving her a reassuring smile, he added, “And you couldn't have known. I've never told anyone else before.”

Her cheeks turned to his favorite shade of pink. She averted her eyes to her chips, taking another couple into her mouth and chewing them as she thought over what he'd said. Letting out a small, puzzled noise in the back of her throat, she finally asked the obvious, “Why haven't you yet? Retired, I mean.”

He'd finished the other chips in his hand by then and set the bag aside to focus fully on her. “I... don't have that many places to go. I live on my own, so it'd be hard to not go out. I'd just get recognized all over again, and my sister's famous and married, so I can't stay with her while I wait for everything to die down.”

As much as he would've liked it to be simple, it wasn't. Also, while he wouldn't have told Marinette as much directly, he wouldn't have wanted to give up on their time together. It might've been a little selfish of him, but—

“What if you stayed with me?” she blurted out, turning her body and leaning onto the arm of the couch to face him.

He opened his mouth, almost instantly saying “yes,” but stopped himself to ask, “...What?”

She pushed against the couch with the hand not holding her bag of chips, straightening herself back up and awkwardly elaborating, “Because—well, you already come here? It's already safe, and if you were okay with it then why not, right? I won't bring anyone here either, so...”

“Wait,” he interrupted because, as fast as his heart was pounding at the opportunity, he wouldn't dare risk holding her back in any way. “I don't want you to stop yourself from bringing someone home just for my sake.”

“Huh?” She blinked at him, as if he'd somehow misunderstood whatever she'd been trying to say. Then, wide-eyed and blushing deeper, she shook her head. “No, it's—I meant... I'm not going to bring anyone anyway. That's why it's alright.”

A beat of silence passed between the both of them. Luka knew from all the little moments when Marinette had spoken about romance that she wasn't aromantic, nor had she ever talked about giving up on love entirely, yet she seemed certain that he wasn't going to end up as a third wheel in her house.

He considered asking, considered multiple possibilities without assuming anything specifically, but she bounced up from the couch before he could get anything out.

“O-oh wow! I should really get started on that soup and, ah—don't worry, you don't have to give me an answer right now!” She turned away swiftly, took a few steps, then paused and looked at the chip bag in her hand. Without glancing back, she tossed the bag towards him and offered, “You can finish that if you want.”

He caught it with both hands and watched her go. After she'd disappeared from his view and into the kitchen, he let his eyes drop to the bag, seeing the chips and the crumbled pieces from when she'd gripped it earlier.

Despite that, his own bag didn't look as appetizing anymore, so he plucked a single, broken chip and slipped it between his lips. His mind was already conjuring scenarios in his head without any effort on his part, imagining what it might be like if he actually lived with her instead of just visiting.

He could still make money with music so long as he could do it without showing his face, thus there wasn't much worry about not being able to pay for his staying there. He was certain that Marinette would give him the guest room, and then they'd end up spending their mornings together. He could find ways to lessen her stress or help out around the house, and he would be there whenever she came home after going out.

To say it was tempting was an understatement. Even the clamor of pots, pans, and the openings of the fridge and cupboards as she shuffled about for her ingredients was like music to his ears.

Swallowing the half chip and finding that it suddenly tasted sweet going down, he thought to himself, No excuse anymore, Couffaine.

[mc-lukanette]

"Luka, do you believe in soulmates?"

Luka nearly stumbled after that question left Marinette's mouth. While conversation was common between them on their walks - regardless of if it was a walk to go somewhere together, a walk to find inspiration, or a walk to simply walk - he hadn't expected a topic like that.

Just about anyone wouldn't, actually, not when a vast majority of the population had soulmate marks. Luka himself sported one, as did Marinette.

He looked to her for clarification, but her gaze was distant, drawn up towards the sky like it might give her whatever answer she was looking for. Wanting to consider her question seriously, he asked, "Are you talking about destiny?"

"No ...maybe?" Her brows furrowed and she appeared just as confused as him by her own thought process. Throwing a hand out in exasperation, she tried again, "We're chosen. That's the idea, right? Because someone, or the universe, or something did it?"

"Yeah?" He supposed that was accurate even if he didn't know himself. No one could ever agree on the true cause and evidence was nonexistent, so it was largely left up to interpretation.

More religiously-inclined individuals would call it a God giving people a sign of their all-knowing nature, or giving their approval of two people being together. Depending on one's view, that theory ranged from being about a holy entity asserting their omnipotence to being about the most powerful shipper to ever exist trying to pair up the population to their liking.

For others, it was just a force of the universe, whether a conscious one or not. The way the marks changed as cultures did could answer questions about that, or it may only add them.

Some theories left it down to the individual: that people were magical or that their souls called out and found another, which ultimately manifested in a soulmate mark.

Luka didn't know, and it wasn't something that kept him up at night. The pondering of why soulmate marks existed and what they truly meant held about as much weight to him as why some random person on the other side of the world chose to eat an apple instead of an orange that day.

Of course, it wasn't always like that. There was a time when he was younger when he looked at the mark near Marinette's elbow, listening to her ramble excitedly about who her soulmate might be and what kind of person she hoped they were, and he felt jealous. He'd loved her knowingly for years, probably loved her unknowingly even longer, but he was happy.

In a way, not being her soulmate meant that she had no incentive or suggestion to be close to him beyond enjoying his company. That alone held great value to him, and he liked the simplicity: importance to someone without need of a fancy fate tattoo slapped on at birth to show for it.

"Ugh," Marinette groaned, running both hands down her face. "I get a headache whenever I think about it. It doesn't make sense."

"Which part?"

"Mm..." She pouted. "The good part?"

He still wasn't following, though he did like hearing her talk. He was happy to be her black-and-blue rubber duck if she needed it.

"Everyone thinks that soulmate marks are soooo great," she continued with an edge to her voice, waving her arms wildly, "but they don't always think about who, or what, or whatever's behind it! What if it—"

"Look out."

Luka caught a glimpse of what was about to happen just in time, reaching out to grab her shoulder and pull her back, the honest-to-God cream pie that'd fallen from above splattering on the sidewalk below. He looked up to lock gazes with the person who'd appeared to either accidentally drop or knock it over, but they were already ducking back inside in embarrassment.

Giving a quick glance at her shoes to confirm that the pie didn't get on them, his eyes went to her face next. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer, staring solemnly at the dessert on the ground, though that may have not been entirely accurate. It almost appeared as if she were looking at things all around it that weren't actually there.

He knew then what was happening in her mind before she spoke again.

"What if it doesn't care about you or thinks you're a joke? What if it gave you a soulmate just for a laugh?"

Marinette had never had good luck. Having known her since they were both kids, Luka knew that for a fact. He'd become so used to it that anticipating and preventing whatever insanely unlucky moments he could was like muscle memory to him. His body simply felt the signs and acted on its own.

Thus, her conclusion didn't come as anything strange to him, however depressing it sounded. The thought that there was some higher being taking delight in... whatever this was, it didn't sound impossible.

Cautious with suspicion of what her answer may be, he asked, "Did something happen with him?"

He normally wouldn't say anything about that relationship, nor do so much as to speak the boy's name. After countless times of watching Marinette lamenting some perceived failure that was, more often than not, either terrible luck or the universe personally spiting her, he stopped bringing it up. It made her miserable to talk about it and he had a dog in the proverbial race, so it was convenient for both of them if he kept quiet.

No matter how much he wanted and also didn't want to know how it was going or if any sparks were flying, that was her business and he would only pry if he felt it necessary. Most of what he knew was simply that she had seen the soulmate mark by accident and her soulmate had yet to see hers.

"Ha," she scoffed, turning her face away from him. "Nothing happened, that's the problem."

She went to keep walking, not feeling right standing in the same place on the sidewalk, and nearly stepped in the fallen pie before he caught her shoulder again. She tossed him a grateful look and they continued their walk side-by-side.

"I just wanted to get to know him better! Isn't it normal to want to know what your soulmate is like?" She huffed, face pinkening in shame. "But any time I try to talk to him, it all comes out wrong and it doesn't make any sense, and not even in a way that makes sense!"

She held her hands out, feigning holding a box.

"And the other day, I put a box of my parents' macarons on his desk with a note on it, but Chloe took it and told him they were from her! He even bought it!" She stopped talking, squinting at nothing as she turned to him and corrected, "Her story, not the macarons."

He nodded along and let her continue.

"Anyway!" She faced the sky with a glare, fists tight against her chest. "Like Chloe would ever be caught dead in my parents' bakery. She wouldn't even take the time out to buy a gift herself unless it was for herself!"

He chuckled, though there was sympathy too. He couldn't imagine what was crazier of a thought: that Marinette's parents would sell to their daughter's bully, or that someone would be unaware enough to believe such a story in the first place. The macarons couldn't have been that good.

Head tilted up towards the sky, she clasped her hands together behind her back and sighed. "Maybe my standards for guys are too high, or I'm missing something about soulmates. That's why I asked." Eyes drifting towards where her partly hidden mark was, she grumbled, "I don't think it's a coincidence anymore that it's where my funny bone is..."

Luka hummed, a question lingering in his mind but not one that was relevant to hers: in all of his knowing her, she'd never dated anyone, so he couldn't imagine where her "standards for guys" had come from, but he thought better of saying it aloud.

Turning his head to look at the rest of the world, so far removed from the little bubble they'd crafted for each other, Luka took in their surroundings: the pigeons flying overhead, the cars passing by, and a couple having snacks at a table outside a cafe. His lips twitched at the latter sight as a thought occurred to him.

"Do you remember when we were kids?" He met her confused gaze. "My favorite Jagged Stone song was Bottomless. I thought it was the deepest song I ever heard."

Marinette snorted, a delightful noise that he always loved hearing. "And when he got asked what it meant, he said..."

With a dramatic groan hearkening back to the emotions of his childhood self, he lamented, "That he was hungry when he wrote it."

Her chest heaved as she snorted again, putting a hand over her mouth as she tried to contain her laughter. It was all in good fun and he had fond memories of her comforting him at the time as if the revelation had destroyed his psyche, wanting to protect his innocence.

"I was devastated," he half-joked as he slipped his hands into his pockets, "but then I realized that it didn't matter."

Her laugh cut off with a choke, shocked by the statement. He didn't blame her, as he'd never really expressed the thought to anyone before.

And Luka Couffaine, not caring what Jagged Stone had to say about his own song? Unheard of.

"It didn't change how I felt about it, or what it meant to me," he explained. "Just because he was the one who made it didn't mean I had to see it the way he did."

Marinette was smart, and he could see the parallel clicking in her head. His thoughts on Jagged's song were much like his thoughts on his mark, or soulmate marks in general, in that he couldn't care less about anyone else's theories or ideas about them. Maybe his mark genuinely meant that the person with a matching mark was destined to be with him, or the exact opposite. Perhaps it was a warning about someone he could never get along with, or there was no person at all who matched his mark.

But he knew how he felt. He knew what he wanted, and it had nothing to do with a nonconsensual tattoo he had on his neck.

"What about you, Marinette? What do you want your mark to mean?"

They came to a crosswalk, the warning sign flashing red. Stopping along with her, Luka's hands fell back to his sides as he waited for Marinette's response. Her gaze was locked to her feet, which shifted against the sidewalk while she mulled over her answer.

"...I don't want it to mean anything. My life's already complicated enough without thinking about what I'm supposed to do about it," she decided. "I don't need a soulmate either, just something simple: someone to talk to, someone who comforts me like I comfort them..."

"I think that sounds great." He beamed, charmed by the promised simplicity.

She continued, voice quieting, "...someone to go on walks with."

...Wait.

She gripped the bottom of her shirt with the hand furthest from him, tangling her finger in the fabric. "Someone to hold hands with..."

Then he felt it. It was the lightest of touches, but he knew with certainty the feeling of her other hand's knuckles brushing his. The way her face pinked at her cheeks only supported that.

It was a question in the form of physical contact: Do you want this? Is this okay?

Without having realized, Luka had fallen into the trap of assuming everything about soulmates without meaning to, contrary to his own opinion. Marinette had put so much weight onto it when they were kids that he didn't dare to imagine anything else but that she wanted them romantically.

Had she really just wanted to get to know them? Or had she wanted him to be sure that she wasn't interested in them first? Was that why she'd asked him in the first place? To know whether it would matter to him or not?

A car driving by, causing wind to rustle their hair, brought Luka back to reality. Not wanting to be misunderstood for even an instant, he took her hand in his and brought it to his chest, holding it there so she could feel his heartbeat.

She gasped, but didn't pull away, staring at their joined hands in awe.

"What else?" he asked, sending every implication at her through his tone.

"Ah—" The pink on her cheeks spread further along her face, but she still answered, "S-someone who will touch my face, like..."

She trailed off, lost for a way to describe it, but Luka needed no further instruction. Taking a single step to be even closer to her, he raised his free hand. Fingers bent, he glided the backs along Marinette's cheek, a pleasant heat coming off of it.

"Anything else?"

She opened her mouth, paused to swallow, then gave him a hopeful smile. With only a hint of shyness this time, she requested, "Kiss me."

He did, his hand going from her cheek to the back of her head as their lips met. Cars continued to pass by, but he couldn't hear them over his heart pounding so loud he could feel it in his skull.

"Lu—" Marinette started to say, but whatever it was must not've been more important than kissing him. She tightened her grip on the hand he'd been holding, the other pulling at his jacket to keep him close.

As if he would've ever gone anywhere but right in front of her. The mere thought baffled him.

When they pulled away, hands still intertwined, it took Luka a few seconds for the world to come back into focus. The crosswalk sign signaled that they could walk now, but he couldn't say for sure whether it had done that recently or if they'd been kissing for so long that they'd missed a prior chance to cross. He couldn't bring himself to care either, not when she held his hand like it was something precious.

She smiled gorgeously at him and tugged him along. He followed after her eagerly, silently wondering if she had any further "requirements" that he could meet.

[mc-lukanette]

Surprising Marinette in the morning was complicated in Luka's experience, and both him and her were to blame for it.

Him because it felt impossible to separate from her so early in the morning, when she was sound asleep and looking so adorable, but her because she would not let him go if she had a grip on him.

He'd learned the lesson many times before and was learning it again, his legs off the bed but Marinette's face pressed firmly into his side while her arms remained tightly around his waist.

The temptation to stay in bed snuggling grew ever stronger, but he was committed to doing something for her before she woke up. Steadily so as to not disturb her, he slid forward, removing one of her arms at a time and transferring it to his pillow. With bated breath, he watched as she squeezed it tight and whined, her brows furrowing but she thankfully didn't wake up.

Despite the sudden jealous towards his pillow, he let it be and slipped away from their bed, heading into the bathroom connected to their room. Careful of the sound the door would make if he shut it, he left it open only a crack before flicking on the light switch. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, making his way over to the sink to splash some cold water in his face.

Hunched over with his hands on the bathroom counter, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and peered up at his reflection. Scrutinizing it, feeling like something was off, he tipped his head forward and realized—

“Mmm, Lukaaaa~?”

Luka straightened at the sound of the door opening, turning his upper body to see Marinette standing in the doorway. “You should've kept sleeping.”

Her already half-lidded eyes narrowed further at the comment. With a yawn, she stepped into the bathroom and strolled up to him, hugging him like he'd never left their bed. “You know that dumb pillow trick never works on me. Now what were you looking so hard at?”

She wasn't all there, which was evident in how she leaned against him like she might collapse at any moment. Supporting her with a hand at her back, he replied, “My roots are graying.“

She blinked slowly, either from sleepiness or disbelief that a man barely in his mid-20s would be graying by now. She stared at the top of his head like she'd be able to see it from her position, to which Luka inclined his head towards the mirror again.

Marinette looked, lips parted as her eyes tried to focus on the faintly gray strands where his hair parted. Seemingly unsure if what she was looking at was real, she got on her tiptoes and reached for his hair, trying to get a glimpse without the reflection.

Then, a gasp escaped her, eyes blowing wide open. She pulled back, only limited by his hand on her, and covered her mouth, her brows knitting together worriedly.

“D-did I stress you out that much when we were teenagers?!” she whimpered.

“No!” Luka laughed, bringing her back in to kiss her temple reassuringly. “Love, it runs in the family. You didn't do anything wrong, okay?”

She whined, but leaned into the kiss. “It runs in the family? On your mom's side?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It wasn't always like you remember it, it just turned gray before you met her.”

“Oh.” She frowned, troubled. “Are you okay with it?”

He tilted his head at her. “I never cared about my mom's hair.”

A beat of silence passed. Luka acknowledged to himself that he might've also been tired.

“Ah—” He reached up to play with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck with his free hand. “I thought it might happen, but I never thought about it. I'd only care if you did.”

Worst case scenario, he figured, he could always dye it, which wasn't some foreign concept to him. His mom had always been so Anarka about everything that she kept it gray without doing anything; where some might've seen gray hair as an embarrassment or giving the appearance of old age, she saw it as something unique to show off.

“Of course I care!” Marinette burst, grabbing at his pajama shirt. Just as Luka began to make rapid plans to buy hair dye later, she continued, “I designed all your clothes to match your look, including your hair! I'll have to get started on a new wardrobe for you, before you go totally gray!”

He could only look on as she continued to babble, whatever sleepiness she felt not being enough to stop her creative process. She was his wife - evident by the matching ring on his finger that he constantly caught himself admiring - but she still found ways to leave him in a state of pure awe.

“If I don't,” she began, oblivious to his heated gaze, “then what's everyone going to think?! They'll think I've been neglecting my husband, that's what, and I know we stopped caring about the public a long time ago, but it's about more than—EEP!”

He lifted her effortlessly, delighting in the feeling of her legs around his waist and her hands at his shoulders. With a grin, he simply said, “We can worry about it later. We should get back to bed.”

“B-but—” She moaned softly as he kissed her neck and started carrying her out of the bathroom. “Weren't you going to surprise me?”

“You're already awake,” he countered easily, “it won't be a surprise anymore.”

“It still can be! I don't know what you're planning! I'll pretend like I've been asleep this whole time! Luka!”

He let her drop down onto the bed, then climbed on top of her and kissed her pout away. She continued to protest, but all while returning his kisses and running her fingers through his soon-to-be-gray hair. It didn't take long after that for her to let him back into bed to resume their natural positions: cuddling in each other's arms.

He didn't say it, but it wasn't actually about any sort of ruined surprise; he just couldn't stand the idea of being apart from her for however long it may've taken to set it up.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette allowed Luka to lead her through the forest, his tiny hand holding her even tinier one. Looking down, she could admire the black of his nails, wishing she could match him yet knowing that her mother would tell her it's "impractical," whatever that word meant.

But that was okay. Having met Luka around a year ago, she was just happy to spend time with him and go on whatever adventures they could get away with in their childhood. His grip was unwavering and, despite its gentleness, she truly felt as if no one could pull her away from him if they tried.

Her feet were a little unsteady as they walked, but he went slow enough that it didn't hinder either of them. Whether he did it on purpose or not, she was thankful for him, only having a bully back at home to deal with rather than any kind of friends.

"Almost there," Luka announced, though quiet enough that it might've been him muttering to himself rather than her. There was a tinge of excitement she could detect in his voice, a sure sign that he'd been anticipating this just as much as her.

The forest was so thick and the trees were so tall that barely any light could show through the leaves. Anywhere patches of sun did show through, tiny flowers were growing, and the two of them slowed or changed course so as to not to step on them even if it made the trip longer.

But finally, Marinette saw light coming from the gaps between the tree trunks, her pace picking up eagerly.

She initially flinched when her eyes had to adjust to the light, but that was how she knew they'd arrived. A village, right in the middle of festivities, laid itself out in front of them, people walking around and talking amongst themselves without batting an eye at them. Fairy lights - which she understood as a magical form of light that grew brighter the closer to nighttime it got - were strewn about everywhere, only giving off a faint shimmer in the pinkish, purplish tint of the afternoon.

"Luka!" she exclaimed in a hush whisper, shaking his arm. "It worked! You did it!"

He beamed at her. "You did it too. Our clothes would look weird if you didn't."

She blushed at the praise, unconsciously gripping his arm tight. Where she'd come from, the types of clothes they'd needed would've been entirely worthless, so it was rare to hear anyone praise her knowledge (as much knowledge as a child could absorb anyway) on the subject. She was simply fascinated by such attire and went through all the necessary research to make sure they'd blend right in.

Coming during festivities was intentional, as everyone would be too busy having fun to pay attention to them. It was also a good excuse for Luka not to have to dye the blue highlights in his hair black, which Marinette insisted he shouldn't have to because they were too pretty to hide. There, highlights in one's hair were just seen as a fun, colorful, and temporary thing to do for the festival.

In other words, they were just two kids wandering through a village like they belonged there, and no one would concern themselves with them unless they appeared truly lost. Marinette involuntarily puffed her chest out, wanting to appear confident in the face of any curious eyes.

Luka giggled next to her, imitating the pose. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Hm?" She glanced at him, then their surroundings. Dodging people would be difficult given their heights in comparison to adults, but she suspected that would change as the day progressed. Furthermore, while the villagers were clearly taken by the festival, she was taken by everything, having never been in such a place before.

Grinning, she said only half-jokingly, "Everywhere!"

—————

Playing by ear, as Luka might've put it, 'everywhere' started with a stand that seemed to be boasting about some sort of game: a typical choice for children, but very new for them. The person behind it was highly enthusiastic, waving at anyone who even glanced their way. It was funny, so they were drawn to it.

"Hey there, boy and girl!" the person greeted with a clap of their hands. "Do one of you want to play? Every customer's first game is free, and if you win then you get anything here as a prize!"

Behind them were shelves lined with handcrafted plushies, pillows, and tiny wooden figurines. Marinette turned to Luka to check his interest, but he looked oddly unimpressed with the display.

Still wanting to try anyway, Marinette climbed up onto the stool in front of the stand and bopped the counter with both hands. "I'll play! Um, how do I play?"

The person smiled, pulling out a few cards shaped like leaves and placing them upside-down along the counter, muttering something as they went. Behind them, Marinette took in the main attraction that she assumed must be the "game": a fake tree that had six "levels," each level designated by a single hole with a branch coming out the bottom of it. She blinked, wondering what the connection was, then looked down at the cards and noticed that there were also six of them.

Touching one experimentally, it didn't move but flashed orange and let out an awful (albeit brief) noise. She scrunched her nose up in displeasure, reminded of the sound of her bully's whining.

"My little friend can explain the rest," the person behind the stand added, looking over at the tree.

One of the holes on the lower half flashed green, a small fairy emerging from it and landing gracefully on the branch. They bowed, waving to their captivated audience of two and explaining, "We'll give you one minute to play. I'll be hiding in the tree and pop out of each hole at random to stand on the branch. You need to touch the card that matches it when that happens."

Marinette remembered then that the hole the fairy had come out of was green. Staring at it, it was the third hole from the bottom, and the card that flashed orange was second to the left. It must've been like a rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. The cards hadn't actually been leaves either, they were shaped like the fairy's wings.

The fairy smiled knowingly at her understanding of the game. "I'll go slow for the first thirty seconds, but don't expect me to go easy on you after that just because you're a child."

She pouted, leaning forward in determination with her hands hovering over the cards. The fairy slipped back into the game's tree and the person nearby raised a hand, a wordless gesture to tell her to prepare.

"Ready?" they asked. At her nod, they counted down, "Three... two... one... go!"

They threw their hand down and the fairy immediately popped out from the hole that flashed yellow. Marinette followed by smacking the third card, which let out a pleasant 'ding' noise this time rather than a bad one. When the fairy slipped back in, it took a few seconds before they popped out of another hole, this time blue. Marinette hit the second-to-last card that time.

The game went on like that as the fairy had promised, a consistent rhythm of them popping out for a second, disappearing, and popping out somewhere else. She followed their movements easily enough, going from green to red to purple and then green again.

So far, so good. With each affirming 'ding', a strip of color was added to the fairies wings, corresponding with the color of the hole they'd left.

Then, the thirty seconds passed and things started to speed up. The fairy wasn't waiting as long this time whenever they went back inside the tree, so Marinette had to be quicker with her taps. It was also a little more tricky as it wasn't guaranteed to be a different color anymore: sometimes she had to hit orange twice in a row.

Despite Luka's disinterest in the prizes, she could feel his interest in her playing. His eyes never left the cards under her hands and she was starting to feel the pressure. She really wanted to win and impress him.

Ten seconds left. The fairy wasn't messing around anymore and the timing became more erratic. They barely popped out at all before going back in and Marinette was expected to know where the cards were now, no longer having the time to look down at them to check.

Orange, purple, green, green, and then green again. Red, blue, orange—!

Marinette's hand flew up in the air in shock as the unpleasant whine signified a failure. She blinked rapidly, needing a second to realize what had happened: that, in her panic, she hit yellow instead.

The holes all flashed at once, then slowly dimmed with a fading whirring noise to signify the end of the game. She'd lost, and even worse was that she could see the colored strips along the fairy's wings as they emerged to perch on one of the branches. All the colors she had tapped went along the whole of the wings - disregarding how tacky it looked - barring the very end, which was just barely uncolored.

"You did your best, kid," the person at the stand complimented, leaning on the counter. They appeared genuinely impressed. "I don't think anyone here has gotten as far as you on their first try. Do you want to go again?"

Marinette's competitive side wanted to push for another round, but she didn't have that much money on her. It seemed like such a waste to use it up on something she might not win.

"...No," she replied reluctantly, the frown evident in her voice. She hopped down from the stool, disappointed, but a clattering noise from that same stool made her look back.

Luka had gotten up onto it, raising a hand and insisting, "I want a try."

That was weird to her. It made sense for him to watch her play, but not for him to play if he didn't even want any prizes. Granted, if the first try was always free, there at least wasn't any harm in trying either.

The fairy fluttered their wings, the strips of color evaporating off as if they'd never been there in the first place, then they happily slipped back into the nearest hole. Marinette watched on curiously as the countdown was repeated, wanting to see how well her best friend would do.

The game began, Luka watching each hole carefully and looking down when he needed to. Red, green, yellow, all carefully tapped as he kept his focus on the fairy. Normally, Luka wasn't as good with games as she was, but Marinette supposed he could've been playing just to play. Maybe it looked like fun.

Thirty seconds passed by successfully, meaning it was time to speed up again. Much to Marinette's surprise, Luka dropped his eyes fully to the cards on the counter, no longer looking at the fairy anymore. That, reasonably speaking, seemed in every way a losing strategy, but the first tap Luka made went off cleanly.

Then the second, then the third, and before long she realized that whatever he was doing was working. Purple, blue, yellow, yellow, orange, and he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Marinette gripped the counter in anticipation, unable to count the exact seconds but feeling the time pass in the back of her head.

She got on her tiptoes, wanting to cheer him on but afraid of throwing him off if she did. Her ankles ached from the awkward position, but she didn't even notice in the heat of the moment.

He was getting close to where she'd been, which could be gauged by the fairy picking up their pace. Marinette watched the cards light up under Luka's touches, seeing the hole of the tree flash right before it out of the corner of her eyes. She felt so tense that it was almost like she was the one playing, and she wondered if that was what it was like for Luka watching her earlier.

The one difference was that, with one, final tap on the blue card, he beat the game. She gasped, watching the final flash of the tree as the fairy flew out with strips of color going all along their wings, signifying his victory.

The person behind the stand staggered backwards, putting a hand to their chest in awe. "Wow! Congratulations! You did great!"

The fairy even clapped for him, nodding along to the praise.

Luka didn't particularly acknowledge the victory until Marinette awkwardly hopped up onto one of the horizontal pieces on the lower part of the stool, squeezing Luka in celebration. "That was so cool!"

He had to lean away to avoid the stool toppling over, but he happily returned the hug with one arm. "Thanks, but I got it from seeing you play first."

"Then we both got it!" she corrected. She didn't know if he was telling the truth, but she wouldn't complain if it joined the two of them together in some way.

The person at the stand gave them a few more seconds to themselves, then gestured at the shelves behind them to ask, "So? What kind of prize do you want?"

Luka narrowed his eyes at the prizes, looking all over without committing to any of them. It was taking him longer to pick something than it did for him to play, but slowly, his gaze dropped down and he pointed with his free arm. "That."

Marinette squinted, leaning forward a bit, and saw what he'd requested when the person raised their arm up confusedly. On their wrist was a spiral bracelet wrapping around half their forearm in the colors of the rainbow.

"This?" They waved him off. "This isn't one of our prizes. Those are on the shelves back there."

They jabbed a thumb behind them, but Luka wasn't deterred. "You said we could have anything here as a prize."

"...Ah—?"

They were baffled, then jerked their head towards their fairy companion, who'd suddenly burst into laughter at what was going on.

"Aw, just give it to him!" they said, wings fluttering in tune with their giggles. "He just won a second time against us with that!"

The person snorted, having not expected any of this today, but relented and slipped the bracelet off. "Alright, you little sneak. A deal's a deal."

Luka accepted the bracelet, giving it a final look before holding it out to Marinette. With a soft smile, he said, "Here."

"Oooo~" Keeping one arm around him, she held the bracelet up to the sky with the other, watching the colors shift depending on how the light was hitting it. "It's neat!"

She went to hand it back to him, but Luka's hand had dropped into his lap, curled into a fist so she couldn't. A beat of silence passed, which is how long she'd needed for it to click with her.

"W-wha—" She let go of him, losing her balance on the stool. The drop wasn't at all high, so her feet hit the ground without a stumble. "But why?"

He cast a glance at the shelves. "You can't take any of those home."

So he'd thought about giving her a gift all along? That's why he looked at the shelves like that? And that wasn't even what she meant!

"But..." She stopped short, staring down at the bracelet again and running her fingers over its surface. She'd already been planning to get Luka something anyway, and she had wanted a souvenir from her experience there. Wouldn't the souvenir being from Luka make it all the more special?

Wordlessly, she accepted the gift by putting it on herself. It was too large for her own arm, so she slipped it onto one of her legs instead, wiggling the leg experimentally to make sure it wouldn't fall off. By the time she'd confirmed it, Luka had hopped off the stool so they could continue on their way.

Holding his hand so as to not get lost (one of the few lessons from her parents that she was actually following at the moment), she walked alongside him and asked, "How'd you do that anyway?"

He gave her a curious glance, clueless.

"What you did!" She waved back at the stand. "You beat it without looking!"

"Mmm..." He tilted his head. "But I heard it."

"Huh?"

He made a flapping motion with his free hand. "I heard the wings echoing in the tree, and they stopped when they got to a hole."

He could hear the wings flapping in the tree and know which hole the fairy would come out of from the way he heard it echo and stop?!

Marinette exhaled in disbelief, leaning against him. "But you're my best friend, so I already thought you were the best!" Looking up at him, she genuinely asked, "Does that make you my best best friend now?"

Luka let out a small noise, covering his mouth in a rare show of embarrassment. "It was just a game."

"No it wasn't! 'Cause you won it for me!"

He relented to her point after enough pressing.

—————

Marinette totally, definitely hadn't been searching for one, but one of their next stops was a store that just so happened to have toys in the window. There was a sound of a bell as they walked in and she peered up at it, wondering if someone must've hung it there as a prank to annoy whoever worked there.

Regardless, she had a mission and dismissed the thought to eye the store. Her grip on Luka's hand tightened in determination, but then she noted that she wouldn't be able to secretly buy him anything if she clung to him. She'd even need her other hand to properly inspect the quality of whatever she was buying.

"I'm gonna go over here," she told him, letting go of him to point in a random direction.

"Okay." He nodded, immediately heading there and misinterpreting her entirely.

"A-ah, wait, wait!" She hurried to get in front of him and pressed against his chest with her hands to stop him. "I mean, we should play hide-and-seek, so I'll go over there to count!"

He stared at her, then looked around as she had done earlier, though for very different reasons. Thankfully, the store was big enough, having more than enough shelves, clothing racks, and random objects to either hide around or hide behind. She even saw a few plushes even bigger than her that would make for a good hiding place, though she questioned how a giant would fit into the store to buy one.

"I'll go hide," Luka agreed after an agonizing few seconds. He turned away, getting ready to walk, but stopped to look over his shoulder at her in confusion.

Right, she needed to go count.

Marinette headed off in the direction she'd pointed to, trying not to be obvious about staring at the things she passed on the way. Some of them were candy and snacks, but she didn't want to give Luka anything that wouldn't last. She didn't want to buy him any of the children's books either, because if they were called children's books then that meant it wouldn't be a gift for him when he wasn't a child anymore.

For the time being, she squatted down at the edge of one of the many shelves and covered her eyes, making due on the lie by counting aloud. Faintly, she could hear Luka's footsteps getting further away, straining her ears to hear them over her own voice until she was certain he was far enough from her.

By then, she carefully trailed off her counting until there was nothing but silence, freeing her to stand up and start exploring for a gift. If Luka saw her before he found a hiding spot, she could always claim that she never said how long she would count for.

Finding a balance between eyeing the toys she saw and looking out for anything dangerously Luka-colored, she went down an aisle at a time. Occasionally, she would stop to pick something up, like a pair of two squishy ladybugs forming a ball together, or a slug that made a funny clicking sound when she wiggled it, but nothing was calling to her as a gift for him. She knew Luka was a sweetheart and would like anything offered to him, but that wasn't a reason to not try.

As she tried to imagine what a "perfect gift" for Luka would even be like, she caught sight of something pink and blue on one of the shelves. She hurried over and, while she was briefly disappointed that it was only the back of the packaging that was blue, the pink color screamed her which made it serve as a good reminder of who this potential gift to Luka came from.

It was a clam shell. Marinette ran her fingertip along the ridges and noted that there was a little clip or force of some kind keeping it shut. It opened with a little effort, but nothing was inside; according to the advertisement, it was made to hold something, though didn't specify what.

Luka was someone who could use something to hold things. Eyeing the inside of the clam, she saw that there were even little slits that he could perhaps use for guitar picks. That might not've been the intention of the maker had in mind when they designed such a thing, but they didn't specify beyond "something," and guitar picks would be multiple somethings! Genius!

Taking the clam off the shelf, she ran through the store as fast as her little legs would carry her. She almost tripped and went face-first into the floor, but the sheer importance of the moment kept her upright.

Understanding enough about stores to know that she had to go to the cashier, she took one last wary look for any sign of Luka before handing them the clam. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the few coins she had, which were gathered meticulously over many days on the beach. She still recalled waiting for everyone to leave so she could look for coins they may have dropped, wanting to be ready in case something like this ever happened.

Giving them up to the cashier, they confirmed the price of the clam and returned it to her, as well as a single coin. The packaging had been taken off at her request, so she could fully take in the sight of the little storage clam and the nice weight it had.

Thankful for the deep pockets in the jacket she had, she slipped it inside, doubly thankful that the poofy design allowed for the clam's bulk to not be that noticeable. Then, with all that checked and confirmed, she set off to look for Luka.

By her estimation, it hadn't been that long since their game had started and she'd kept her eyes out for him the whole time, so she felt good about him not being suspicious that she'd been up to anything. Grinning to herself, she daydreamed about his potential reaction while searching for him between shelves and behind the giant plushies.

Tauntingly, she raised a hand to the side of her mouth and called, "Luuuuka~" She looked left, then right. "I'm gonna find y—"

She stopped when a rustling noise caught her attention, her focus shifting to one of the circular clothing racks that had fancy festival wear. Two pieces of clothing were pushed aside, Luka slowly stepping out from the gap he made.

Marinette blinked. They made eye contact and he froze halfway out of his hiding spot, a few confused seconds passing by before they both realized what happened.

He was so used to coming to her when she called his name that he did so without thinking.

Luka bowed his head, ashamed of having ruined their game. "Sorry."

Giggling, Marinette made her way over to him and snatched up his hand. It made her happy, knowing that they could both act silly together. "It's okay! My hand was lonely anyway!"

It wasn't a lie even if she'd planned to return to him casually. Things just felt better when he was around and she hadn't wanted to separate in the first place.

—————

Even over the hustle and bustle of the crowd as the afternoon began to transition to evening, Marinette could still hear the grumbling of Luka's stomach. She stopped, eyeing the source of the sound, and Luka turned to look at her.

"What?"

"Ah... I'm hungry," she told him. "Can we eat?"

An actual lie that time, but she'd been down this road before to know that it was necessary. They'd gotten into loops enough times of noticing that the other was hungry, the other insisting not to worry about it, and back and forth until finally they both decided to eat together. In retrospect, Luka may have given the same lie to her in the past.

It just seemed like such a waste to miss out on potential playtime to eat, but at least now they could have food they hadn't tried before.

Luka agreed, so they set about finding something they wanted. There were plenty of people down the streets waving around food and shouting out what she presumed was the name of it, but the two of them couldn't really make sense of it. Food there was so different from what they were used to that they probably wouldn't recognize anything anyway.

They debated on whether they should risk their money on chance, but then they heard the familiar word "blueberry" and looked over. Luka was a forest dweller and often brought Marinette fruit that he picked, so they both knew what those were.

In the woman's hands, however, were tiny round things that Marinette didn't recognize. They were closer to baby blue than the dark purplish-blue she was used to on blueberries, which confused her brain entirely as they did smell like blueberries. At Luka's asking, the woman listed off a few rough ingredients and the general process of baking them, but it all sounded like random words mashed together barring "blueberries" and "eggs."

"Here." She put her handful of treats back in the container she had them in, pulling out one in each hand and offering it to them. "Cuties like you can have one for free as a taste test."

Marinette exchanged a glance with Luka. She wasn't sure what the criteria was that the lady was using, but she could agree that he was cute: calm, quiet, and always with something sweet to say whenever he did speak.

"Okay," Marinette began, only to not take the one offered to her and point at Luka instead, "but Luka has to give it to me."

He didn't ask why, accepting both treats and holding one up to her mouth. Catching the woman's confused stare on her, Marinette felt compelled to explain anyway.

"My maman and papa told me not to take sweets from strangers, but Luka's not a stranger."

With that, she opened her mouth and let Luka slip the treat in at the same time he fed himself. The taste of blueberry filled her mouth as she bit down, the treat so tiny that she could only bite a few times before it was largely crumbs. The outside had been crisp, but inside it was soft and a little chewy, her tongue getting the full force of the fruit she would still insist it didn't look like.

She put a hand to her lips, letting out a tiny, pleased noise at the flavor, and heard something similar from Luka. It was an easy choice from there to buy it, though she already imagined that the single coin she had wouldn't buy much.

Luka, on the other hand, still had coins of his own. While she'd found hers on the beach, he sometimes found some that forest visitors had dropped, or those snatched up by birds and placed in nests for their shine. He bought enough that the both of them would've struggled to hold them even if they used both of their hands, but the woman settled the two piles onto edible pink paper for them, neatly crimped and folded so as to contain them well.

Walking off with the treats, they found a quiet place to sit and got to eating. Marinette imagined that her parents might have complained about her eating so much of something sweet, but it had fruit in it and it was a "treat" day anyway. They deserved to spoil themselves instead of thinking about such things.

"Why do all kids like sweet stuff?" she wondered aloud. "Some adults do too."

Luka hummed, not able to answer at first when his mouth was full. He swallowed, then guessed, "Maybe they have a spell on 'em?"

She looked down, eyes narrowed in suspicion as she poked the top of the pile. Nothing happened, at least beyond the treats moving from the little push. "All sweets? Do they wanna be eaten that bad?"

He shrugged, still mulling it over, and she took the time to shove a palmful into her mouth.

"What if we have the spell?" he suggested. "So it's not the sweets, and sometimes the spell goes away when we grow up?"

"So we're cursed when we get born?" She nodded along, invested in the hot new theory he just dropped. "I bet your mom could cure us. She's good with magic and potions."

"Mm." He stopped eating to consider that, lightly prodding and moving around the treats he still had, then countered, "But it'd be sad not to like these anymore."

"Yeah," she solemnly agreed. That was the trick of such a curse, she supposed, because why would someone want to take away how good sweets tasted?

The conversation lulled off as they dedicated themselves to enjoying the treats, cursed or otherwise. Marinette even tore a corner of the paper to taste, noting the strawberry undertones, and got an idea. With just a few, precious blueberry bites left, she curled the paper around them and shoved the whole thing directly into her mouth, flooding it with the taste of both berries at once.

Luka was wide-eyed at the motion, but not in any negative way. Rather, he thought it was an amazing idea and went about imitating her, slightly clumsier with curling the paper but it didn't affect the taste.

With any hunger satiated, they dusted off their hands like they'd done a hard day's work, then returned to enjoying the festivities.

—————

Neither of them were used to walking for so long. Knowing that, it was inevitable that their legs would start to tire, but the two of them had left it as a problem for their future selves.

Except now, though thankfully late in their adventure, the future had arrived and they reluctantly accepted that they had to rest. They searched for a quiet place where few people would be and settled on a library, having not even realized how much it was to deal with the crowd of people outside until they were away from it all.

A single librarian stood behind the front desk, idly sorting things they couldn't quite see. On the corner of the desk was a container of candy, either bribing material or congratulatory rewards for kids to read more, but they ignored them to traverse the rest of the library.

The rows of bookshelves almost felt like a maze of knowledge, but they eventually made it to a comfy little spot in a corner. There was a table, chairs, and a few books that were either abandoned or recommended for those who may've come by. Curious, Marinette grabbed one of the books to look at, but scowled when the cover showed blond hair that looked all too similar to her bully's.

Definitely abandoned books.

Luka was tired enough that he didn't even bother pulling out one of the chairs to sit on, opting to plop down on the floor and lean against the wall. Sympathetic, Marinette left the book re-abandoned on the table and went over to kneel at his side.

"You should sleep if you're tired," she encouraged.

He yawned, though tried to hide it with his hands. "There's a lot we didn't do yet."

She tapped her chin in thought. "Well... we didn't sleep yet? I can read you a story too."

Before he could answer, she pushed herself up and walked away to a small rack of more child-friendly books than the ones on the table. Their thinness made it perfect for her hands to hold comfortably, and she returned to Luka with a smile.

Then, considering something, she put the book down on Luka's lap and retrieved the heavier book she'd hated from the table. Dropping it next to their little spot, she sat down next to him and picked the thinner book back up.

"This one's to read," she explained, then pointed to the one she'd dropped. "That's for keeping you safe if anyone tries to wake you up."

He giggled at the exaggerated motion she made of whacking someone with the book. "I thought books were for learning things."

It was playful, but Marinette huffed and replied anyway, "They'll learn not to wake you up."

And that was that. She leaned against the wall with him, their bodies bumping together comfortably as she opened the book to the first page. Her ability to read aloud wasn't perfect and she stumbled on a couple words she'd seen but never spoken before, yet Luka didn't complain.

Eventually, she felt him relax against her, looking over to see that his eyes were shut and his breathing had slowed. She debated with herself on continuing to read, but the book didn't seem as fun when they weren't looking at it together.

Her eyelids drooped, the letters blurring as the sleepiness started to take her too. She had promised to protect Luka while he napped, but she could already hear his voice in her head, telling her that she couldn't protect him if she didn't protect herself first.

Making a compromise with herself, she turned further towards him, settling the book on his lap and placing her hands atop it. His scent was familiar as she snuggled against him and, if she really focused on it, she could still smell the flowers they had picked and put on each other the other day.

The scent on her, unfortunately, had probably washed off by then, but that was fine. They still had the memories even if the scent didn't linger, and that thought lulled her fully into secure slumber.

—————

"Hey... hey there, come on," a gentle, deep voice said. "Wake up."

Marinette whined, glaring off at nothing as she slowly opened her eyes, then lifted her head up towards the source of the wake-up call. It was the librarian, who looked worriedly down at the both of them, just out of whacking distance.

"I wanted to let you two sleep, but it's getting late," he told her. "Aren't your parents worried about you?"

Honestly? Probably not. Her parents were nice but didn't have much of a hands-on approach - probably assumed she lost track of time somewhere - whereas Luka's mom was fully aware where they were and what they were doing. She looked outside to get an estimate of the time, the fairy lights hung just outside the window glowing as bright as ever.

Because it was as late as ever.

Marinette jolted, eyes wide open as she turned to Luka. She didn't even have time to wonder if she'd have to whack herself for trying to wake him, too panicked as she grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shake.

"Luka! Luka, Luka!"

He groaned as he stirred from her efforts. His body was sluggish and might've fallen over had she not had a firm grip on him. "M-Marinette...?"

"It's late!" she cried out. "Late late!"

He blinked slowly at her, because normally it being "late late" wouldn't be a concern for either of them. However, his brain finally caught up and he became wide awake in an instant, pushing himself to his feet as the book fell from his lap to the floor. "We have to go!"

"Yeah!" She hurriedly gathered the two books to set them on the table, barely giving the librarian a "thank you" before her hand grabbed Luka's and they were off. The little corner they'd taken minutes to find after coming in through the front door took only seconds to backtrack from, the two of them working as a tiny unit to force the door open as fast as possible with their free hands.

Ignoring any glances they might've gotten from adults, they ran around and past anyone they could. Occasionally, they might've bumped something or someone, taking up more space from being side-by-side as they were, but their grip on each other was solid and they refused to let go of each other even for convenience.

Before long, they headed back into the forest, Marinette allowing Luka to lead since he was the one who knew the way. Swerving around trees and ducking under branches, it was clear that he was trying to take the quickest route possible.

It was hard to gauge the time anymore, the moon completely out of sight due to the vast foliage above them. Still, Marinette could catch them smell of the ocean, so she felt they could still make it before—

"Ah—!"

She fell forward, Luka stumbling along with her as they both hit the ground. She raised her head to apologize, certain that her legs had finally given out, but then she looked behind her.

In place of her legs was her mermaid tail, bright pink and shimmering like it'd never left. The only evidence that she'd gone to a human village at all was the bracelet she'd put on, which nicely fit right above the fins at the end. She turned her head back to Luka and, sure enough, his naga tail had come back as well.

There was only one conclusion to draw: that the potions his mother had given them had worn off. She groaned, mentally cursing her luck that they'd turned back just before they got to the ocean. To Luka, it was hardly a problem so long as they were out of the village where they could no longer be seen, but not so much with Marinette.

She wiggled her tail and tried to push herself up, but to no avail. She couldn't move on land like he did, only awkwardly crawl or drag herself.

"Marinette," Luka called, fretting. He looked her over worriedly for injuries and reached for her arm when he found none. "Here, hold onto me."

She pouted as he helped her up and guided her hand to his shoulder. "I'm gonna be heavy."

"Nu-uh," he huffed, like it was a personal offense to him if he couldn't lift her.

Slowly, she slipped both of her arms around his neck while he grabbed her waist, straightening up and reorienting the both of them. He kept one hand at her back, the other supporting her tail so they could continue on their way.

She still protested, but he didn't complain, grunt, or show any signs that he was bothered on their way back to the beach. The trees slowly made way for vast skies and pink sand, but she clung a little tighter to him even as she stared out at the familiar sights that should've been home.

They both readied themselves, Luka's arms tensing while she prepared herself to leap. With one precise, strong toss, he threw her upwards and she flung in an arc to land safely back in the water. The crisp, clear world aboveground turned blurry when she looked up, the water distorting it into shapes she knew weren't real.

Popping her head back up above the surface, she looked out at Luka, who had made himself comfortable on the beach. He was leaning back, his hands almost lost in the sand and supporting him as he tried to catch his breath.

"Sorry," she murmured.

He raised a brow at her, puzzled, then offered her a smile. "I had fun."

He'd changed the subject, not even acknowledging the apology like he truly didn't need it. Marinette mirrored the smile back at him, agreeing, "Me too. Maybe we can go again?"

The immediate nod was reassuring. Though it ended rather stressfully, that didn't take away from the experience overall.

She also noticed then that their clothes from the waist up had stayed on: one more happy reminder of their secret adventure. She grinned wider, gripping her jacket and pulling it tight against herself, but something ridged, large, and round nudged at her side as she did.

Gasping, her eyes lit up in recognition. She twisted, awkwardly fighting the wet fabric and the drag of the water to reach into the pocket. "Oh, um, Luka, I got..."

Sand shifted nearby as Luka came closer to her, the tide just barely missing him. Marinette retrieved the clam and swam closer, struggling a bit with the shore but managing to find a comfortable place where she could "sit."

"Here! It's for you!" she exclaimed, holding the clam out to him. It was wet, but a quality enough product that it wasn't damaged or worn from it. "I bought it at the store we went to."

He gaped at her, leaning forward to take a closer look. Nearly losing his balance, he thrust his hands into the wet sand and hovered over the gift while she presented it to him. "Really? For me?"

"For you!" she echoed. Popping the clam open, she pointed at the slits on the inside and explained, "You can hold things inside, like your guitar picks! Neat, right?"

Though, when she looked at it again, she wondered if it was really enough for her best friend, who'd been upgraded just that day to best best friend. A storage container was nice, but was giving someone an empty one equivalent to giving them a gift box with nothing inside? Surely there was something she could put in it.

An idea struck a moment later, Marinette pulling back and turning the inside of the clam towards her. Raising it to her lips, she kissed the inner part of the top for good luck before slamming the clam shut with a satisfying click, wanting to make sure the luck didn't have a chance to escape.

That way, she figured, the bottom could store his guitar picks and the top could store the good luck. It was taking full advantage of all the space inside.

Holding it carefully with both hands, she extended her arms towards him with a hopeful smile. "Do you like it?"

He was speechless, having not expected to get any gift that day beyond his time with her. His lips pressed together in a pout, wobbly with emotion as he raised a hand to take the gift from her.

However, he stopped short, noticing the wet sand still caking his hand. Unwilling to touch her gift with dirty hands, he reached into the water to flap his hands about inside to try and clean them. While that did most of the job, he remained dissatisfied and grabbed at his jacket, pulling it off to wipe his hands on it.

Throwing the jacket-turned-towel aside, he finally took the clam from her and cradled it to his chest. Marinette's heart ached pleasantly, seeing that it was already something precious to him.

"Thanks. I love it," he whispered.

They stayed there for just a minute longer in each other's company, no longer fearing any time limit urging them into action. Their friendship was powerful despite only a year of knowing each other, of having to meet in secret at the shore when no one else was around, of Luka's mother "stealing" Marinette away to show her their home when viable, and of risky adventures created through human disguises.

There would inevitably be a time in the future where they wouldn't be able to do it anymore. They would get older, busier, and it would be harder to keep meeting on the shore. Even further in the future, one of them may even have to make a choice to ensure they never part again.

But in the blissful innocence of childhood, they could simply enjoy their time together.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette could hardly believe that she was on her way to becoming an adult. The years were somehow long and exhausting yet short at the same time. All the effort she'd put towards building a future career for herself were going to take off the moment she got out of school, and she was ecstatic about it.

The only con was that everyone would inevitably be taken in separate directions, no longer bound by the guaranteed meetings in the classrooms. She supposed that was the inevitable test of friendship going forward - seeing who would stay in contact and who wouldn't - but it was a nice excuse to spend time together before things “ended.”

That was what led up to her and the girls having a sleepover at the Liberty, as if they were all children again. Half the silliness of that was knowing that most of them hadn't even known each other as children, but in a way that made it all the more important to do.

The other half was that the guys had also coincidentally planned a sleepover (guys' hangout, not a sleepover because that's girly, no really, stop laughing—) on the same day, leaving them to divide the Liberty up between them. That left the guys with the deck and the girls below deck, though the guys were generously permitted to head down to the lounge room if they needed anything.

Throughout the experience, Marinette had a blast. Alongside the girls, she chatted it up with a sprinkle of gossip, played games, set up a comfy place for everyone to sleep, and cracked a few jokes whenever one of the boys came down for something or made an excuse to say hello to their significant other.

The plan initially was to stay up all night since they didn't have any school the following day, but alas, the old age of being in their late teens had made everyone too tired before midnight hit. Boys and girls alike turned in for bed in their respective places, the boys in the main area above deck and the girls in the Couffaine siblings' room below deck.

—————

Marinette awoke at some point during the night, feeling sweaty and uncomfortable. She hadn't slept over at the Liberty before and had expected it to be colder than it ended up being, because wasn't it so Marinette of her to over prepare and still have things go wrong.

Pushing off the overly-fluffy and thick blanket, she got herself up quietly so as to not wake anyone. Since no one was going to see her anyway, she grabbed the bottom of her tank top and pulled the shirt over her head, leaving her in just her bra and capris in hopes that she might cool off faster.

Tiptoeing, she crept around the girls all sprawled out and sleeping, nearly tripping on Mylene's arm but managing to keep her balance. On her way to the lounge room, she caught sight of an abandoned blanket and looked up, seeing that Rose had gotten up at some point to join Juleka on her bed.

Frowning, admittedly a bit jealous, Marinette glanced at the empty bed on the other side of the room: Luka's. If he'd been a girl and they were dating, would she have been able to sneak into his too?

Of course, they were not dating, not for lack of wanting to but because she hadn't made any moves on him. She'd run through most excuses by then: thinking that he was too mature for her and growing herself into the person she wanted to be, then thinking that there must've be someone else he liked and finding no evidence for that after a few years, then thinking that she was too busy carving out a path for herself and now being at that point where she'd done so. There wasn't any reason not to try anymore, but she still felt anxious about it.

Did Luka even see her as someone attractive, or was she his sister's friend? Would it be weird to ask? Was it better or worse knowing that he would have every excuse not to talk to her again with everyone doing their own thing?

She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts. He was literally sleeping right above her, so it felt weird to be thinking about it, like talking about someone who just barely couldn't hear off in another room.

Heading into the kitchen, Marinette got herself a cup and opened the fridge, peering inside for anything good. She sighed at the cold air wafting out, half-tempted to just shove herself partway inside until she'd cooled off, but resisted and left it at pulling out a pitcher of iced tea. She'd probably regret having a drink in the middle of the night, but that was future Marinette's problem and she preferred it to the alternative of staying hot and gross.

She was only half-awake, but she could do a basic task like pouring herself a drink. With her hands both occupied, she carefully closed the fridge with her foot and put the cup on the counter. Holding it with one hand to keep it in place, she tipped the pitcher and aimed for the sides of the inner part of the cup, figuring that would make less noise than liquid into liquid.

She was so focused on the simple act that she hadn't heard the footsteps coming from up above, nor the ones going down the stairs nearby, nor the slight creak of the door at the bottom of the stairs as it opened.

The quiet, “Oh, Marinette,” however, spoken in the low, melodic tone she'd imagined next to her in a bed just a minute ago, she did hear. Her head spun to look, body stiff as her eyes took in Luka standing there and staring at her.

Also, he was shirtless.

Her mouth opened wide, nearly screaming his name in her surprise before she clenched her teeth to stop herself, then she had to stop herself from overpouring the iced tea into her cup, then she had to stop herself from slamming the pitcher onto the bar. It left her a mess, vibrating in place with the feeling that any movement would be the wrong kind.

“...Hi,” she greeted in a strained voice, shutting her eyes tight. Without the distracting image in her sights, she willed herself to set the pitcher down calmly and get out the jitters with a shake of both arms.

“I'm sorry,” he said. Judging from how his voice projected, he'd looked away. “I'll go back up.”

Her eyelids popped open again, realizing how her reaction must've looked. Rushing over to him, she reached a hand out and said in a hushed whisper, “Wait! No, I'm sorry, you don't have to go.”

She wanted to grab his sleeve to stop him, but there wasn't a sleeve to grab. She considered grabbing his hand instead, which they'd done dozens—no, hundreds of times, but it was different when there was so much skin she could see beyond it. Sure, it wasn't like the skin wasn't always there, but it was covered by the layers of clothing he always wore, layers of clothing that had apparently been covering the nice arms that picked her up that one time they went ice skating on a whim, and the rest of the collarbones that she'd always seen a bit of but were now on full display, and the chest—

Dropping her gaze, Marinette awkwardly slipped two fingers into his shorts pocket, giving it a little tug and blushing beet red as she asked, “Didn't you come down for a drink?”

Because I could really use mine right now, she didn't say.

She heard him breathe unusually deeply, then he asked in reply, “Is that okay?”

“Chest—yes!” She removed her hand from his shorts, waving past her shoulder at the bar. “We can drink together—but separately, because we'll be drinking from a cup but not the same cup since we'll have different cups. Is iced tea good?”

The silence that followed was deadly, but she wouldn't accept death before she had a nice moment with her handsome crush of multiple years. One of the many great things about Luka was that he never wavered at nor made fun of her substantial awkwardness, so if there was anyone to catch her in such a state, she preferred it to be him.

She peered up cautiously at his face, surprised when she saw that he was blushing up to his ears as his head turned to look at her again. She hadn't taken him for the type to get embarrassed seeing a girl partly undressed given that he shared a room with his sister.

It couldn't have been because it was her... could it?

“Then sure. I'd love to,” he finally said, not acknowledging the fumble.

Turning away from him like he was her own traitorous thoughts, Marinette nodded and went back into the kitchen area to get another cup for him. Quickly pouring the iced tea inside, she slid it across the bar to Luka and picked up her own cup. She was careful when daring to look over at him, keeping the cup and her hand in the right position to block as much of him as possible while they both drank.

They tipped their drinks at the same time, and she didn't miss that he took just as big of a gulp as she did, the both of them draining nearly the whole, cool, refreshing thing in one go. It was odd to her that they both seemed equally thirsty, but it was at least a little romantic for them to be on the same wavelength.

Luka took a deep, heavy sigh as he put his cup back down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I couldn't sleep. I'm not used to... this.”

“Sleepovers?” she wondered, fiddling with her cup rather than putting it down. "You've never had one before?"

“There were a couple,” he said with a shrug, “but not with this many people. It's...”

“Too many songs in one album?” she recited, swearing she'd heard that line once or twice from him before.

He met her eyes for a moment, flashing an affectionate smile, then took another sip of his drink. “Something like that. I grew up without that many guys in my life, and on the Liberty it was usually just me and all the strong, smart women who came aboard.”

She giggled, still remembering fond days of Kitty Section and Ivan as the only other guy most of the time. “Yeah. Juleka, Rose, and your mom are all great people.”

He snorted, though she didn't see what was particularly funny about what she said. Tipping his head back to grin at her, he corrected, “I meant you too, Marinette.”

“Uh—!” She blushed all over again, immediately taking in the rest of her drink, lamenting how quickly it went down. Somehow his way with words hadn't faded with time, much to the distress of her heart. “That's... I-I thought it was a little late at night for that?“

That being whatever conversation they appeared to be having right then, the kind that had gone on-and-off throughout the course of their years together.

“I hate to tell you, Marinette,” he began, all with the tone of someone who did not 'hate to tell her'. He reached for the pitcher without looking in a silent offer to refill her cup for her, then continued, “But you aren't one to talk. I'm just playing along to your tune.”

“Me?” She pouted, passing him the pitcher. “What did I do?”

“Your—” His eyes flicked down her body for an instant, but he cleared his throat, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. His face flushed and he, after pouring her another cup of iced tea, filled his own back to the top as well. “You're an incredible designer.”

She was thoroughly confused now, not knowing what he'd been looking at. Sure, she'd taken her shirt off and it was a bit embarrassing having her bra showing in front of her crush, but—

Then, it hit her all at once, her head tipping down to look at herself. She had been branching out when it came to fashion design, with bras being one of them, but she hadn't realized that she'd been wearing this particular one. It was covered with Kitty Section colors and music notes, which wasn't an indicator of anything on its own as it wasn't specifically labeled as such, but what was a giveaway was the clip holding the cups together.

She'd designed the clip after a Kitty Section mask; his Kitty Section mask. Having worn it every now and then to test how good it was at maintaining its durability, she hadn't given a thought to the fact that she'd been wearing it.

Did he realize that too?

Swallowing, Marinette felt the need to physically get away from the situation in her embarrassment. Moving around to the other side of the bar and taking her cup with her, she sat herself down on one of the stools and let her head drop onto the smooth surface. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I—I shouldn't have looked,” Luka insisted, sounding genuinely guilty about it. “I swore I saw my colors, and...”

“You saw right,” she whined, wondering if it was too late to pretend that she was wearing a new piece in a Kitty Section fashion line.

The disapproving frown - aimed at himself - was evident in his voice. “But I didn't want to make you feel awkward.”

It was silly hearing him talk like that when she was the one who wore it in the first place. Did it even matter if she tried to deny anything or make an excuse at that point? She'd been thinking about this when she got up, but now he was actually there, in front of her, thinking he made her feel bad.

She put her hand over her cup, twisting it back and forth on the bar. Raising her head only enough to look at him, she assured softly, “...You didn't. Not you, anyway, because... because you're not any of the other guys.”

She winced, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way. It could've easily been interpreted as her saying that she wasn't shy because she didn't see him as someone she could be attracted to or care about, when actually it was the exact opposite.

Instead of responding, he looked away and took another long sip of his iced tea. Watching him quench his thirst made her want to do the same, and she did just that.

“I'm not tired anymore,” he said all of a sudden.

She hummed in agreement. “Me neither.”

They both paused, and for a second Marinette assumed that Luka was just as clueless as her on what to do next. Then, his free hand fell upon the counter between them, angled in her direction, and she sat up to wordlessly ask for clarification.

Their eyes met again, and he asked, “Do you want to keep talking somewhere else?”

She hesitated before replying even though she knew the answer. She did want to talk more, but his words carried more weight than usual and she felt it. Things had already become a bit more intimate and she didn't want to respond right away like she didn't notice it.

She inhaled, exhaled, then took in the rest of her drink and accepted that she would have to set her cup aside for the time being. Dropping her hand quietly on the bar and sliding her fingers onto his, she answered with her full chest, “Yes.”

He nodded once, cheeks noticeably pink, then turned to open the fridge behind him. With one hand he put the pitcher back inside, and with the other he sipped his remaining iced tea.

Marinette felt a buzzing sensation go through her at the knowledge that something was happening right now. He wasn't weirded out by her wearing his symbol on her bra, to the point where he even wanted to keep talking to her? While he was still shirtless?

She needed to do something - anything - to get the energy out.

“I'll be right back,” she told him extra quietly, getting off of the stool and making her way back to the Couffaine siblings' room. She faintly heard him make an affirmative noise, so she felt assured that he wouldn't think she was running away.

The large bag she'd brought her sketchpad and other assorted supplies in was resting near her little sleeping spot. Sneaking carefully so as to not make a sound, she crouched down in front of it and reached inside, fumbling around for the particular object she was looking for.

Forcing down the excited 'Found it!' that she wanted to let out as her fingers brushed it, she pressed her lips together tightly and pulled it out: a scented candle, encased in glass with a few cinnamon sticks on the sticker at the front.

She stood up, stopped, then got back down to place her bag where she'd been. Pulling the blanket over it to give the appearance that she was still sleeping there, she adjusted it until she was satisfied before making her way back out of the room.

Luka was still there, having put their cups away while she was gone, and was in the process of pulling out a large but thin blanket that had been hidden behind the couch. Marinette looked on approvingly, then shyly approached with her own addition to their future of “talking somewhere else.”

“I was going to use this during the girls' sleepover,” she explained, wiggling the candle at him, “but they weren't into it.”

He responded immediately, “I am,” then leaned over to whisper against her ear, “You know where the matches are.”

Her body felt hot all over again, like she'd still been underneath her thick blanket, only this time it was entirely pleasant. He hadn't said anything crazy, she told herself, but she felt affected anyway. So did he, judging by the way his lips twitched as he turned back to the blanket.

With a bouncy but silent pep in her step, Marinette went over to the kitchen, pulling out one of the drawers and immediately finding the matches he'd been referring to inside. Putting it in next to the candle's wick, she glanced over her shoulder to see what Luka was up to.

He'd bundled up the corners of the blanket oddly, giving it some sort of sack shape, and threw it over his shoulder one-handed in Santa Claus fashion (if Santa Claus was a boy nearing his twenties, shirtless, and violently attractive to her anyway). Scanning the room over, she noted that all the pillows on the couch were gone.

She saw then what he was up to and smiled, walking through the kitchen to meet him by the door to the stairs. It was the closest she'd been compared to when she'd tugged on his shorts pocket, and she still couldn't help the little involuntary whine she let out.

She wanted to touch him, but holding his hand seemed strange at that point. She eyed him up and down while simultaneously trying not to blatantly check him out, but as her eyes darted back up to his face, his expression told her that he didn't mind the attention.

He didn't mind it at all. He appeared delighted, actually.

As the hand furthest from her was the one holding the makeshift sack, Luka offered his free arm to her in an obvious gesture. Marinette felt her heart skip several beats, but was drawn towards him like a magnet, bringing her arm up to link with his while her other hand held the candle to her chest.

Together, they went through the door and headed up the stairs as one unit, footsteps in complete sync. At the top, they turned, not to head into the greenhouse area or where the boys were sleeping, but in the cabin where it was tiny and private.

Marinette took notice of how reluctant Luka was to pull away from her, but he did so anyway so he could drop the blanket on the floor and sort out the pillows. She set the candle down in the corner of the cabin, then got down on her knees to help him.

Before long, they'd set up a cute little comfy space with an absurd amount of pillows, the blanket atop them to nearly complete the look. For the finishing touch, she passed him the matches to light one, which he passed back so she could light the candle. The scent of cinnamon steadily began to waft throughout the cabin and the two got comfy on the pillows, staring out at the night that the open area of the cabin allowed them.

Thinking it was about time she addressed the Kitty Section colored elephant in the room, especially after he was the one to prompt them talking more, she rubbed an arm and said sheepishly, “Sorry for not asking.”

He leaned closer, raising a brow at her. “For what?”

“You know.” She averted her gaze, slipping a thumb underneath her bra strap and sliding it back-and-forth. “I felt like I should've gotten permission?”

“Ah.”

“But I didn't know how to ask. How do you ask someone—you know—” She scoffed at herself, waving her hands wildly in front of her. “—about that, but you make me comfortable and I don't make other people feel comfortable, so I just... did it quietly.”

“Mm,” he hummed. That was all he did at first, long enough to make her think that would be the end of it, but then he asked, “Why would it make me feel uncomfortable?”

She gave him a puzzled look, feeling like it was obvious, but he gave her a look back like it wasn't. She couldn't see anything but him then, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and watching his eyes follow the movement.

“I...” She brought her knees up towards her chest, resting her arms on top of them. “I always thought I felt things too much? Everyone says that I feel too loudly, but you don't. You're quiet and musical, and you're so nice that I didn't know if...”

She trailed off, unsure of exactly what she didn't know. If it was whether Luka would be dishonest for the sake of her feelings, then she already knew that wasn't true. He didn't seem like the type of guy who wouldn't talk to her again over some awkwardness either.

“...I didn't know if I was enough,” she concluded, and it was as much of a surprise to herself to say as it was for him. Hiding her face against her legs, embarrassed, she explained, “I still had so much I wanted to do for you, to prove I was, so it was better to hide it until then.”

“Marinette.”

She felt his fingers against her hand, then a gentle squeeze as he pulled it towards him. She brought her head back up to watch and he held her hand up near his face.

“I never thought you felt too much, or too loud. Your feelings were yours, and I never wanted you to hide them.” He raised her hand higher, close enough that she could feel his breath against her fingers. “I like them where they are now: here, where I can play the same song back to you.”

And there it was: what should've been obvious based on them mirroring each other over the last few minutes, yet actually hearing it was like a weight off her chest. Her eyes softened, fingers shaking in his hand from emotion, and while it was more apparent on her how relieved she was, an observant eye could see the same - albeit more subtle - on him.

Even while looking so calm, she knew it wasn't only her hand that shook, and it was too warm to mistake it for anything else.

“Luka...” She let out a single laugh, shaking her head at herself. “I used to be so sure you weren't attracted to me.”

“Really?” he gasped, genuinely surprised. With a sense of urgency, he tugged her hand towards his shoulder, extending his other hand towards her free one. “May I?”

She didn't know what he was up to, but trusted him without a word and slipped her other hand into his. He pulled her towards him, slowly easing her onto his lap, then grabbed onto her sides and encouraged her upwards. Going along with his motions, she got on her knees with the inner part of her legs touching the outer sides of his, ignoring the reminder that he rode his bike a lot and she could feel it.

With her having raised herself up enough that she hovered over Luka, combined with the way he stared up at her, she almost felt like royalty being bowed down to and appreciated.

“Do you know what I've been wanting to do since I saw you in this?” he asked, his hands on her bare sides.

Whatever got him to keep his hands there was fine with her. She idly tapped on his shoulders as she held onto them, replying, “No?”

He looked straight ahead, eye level with her chest and deliberately staring at the bra he'd tried not to stare at so far. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth, holding her still as he clamped down on the clip of her bra.

Marinette's heart raced. She shuddered, hands tightening around his shoulders as she felt—whatever he was doing. The front of her bra was shifting along with him and it was hard to get much of any thought going on with his head so close to her chest.

Then, she heard a distinct 'click', and with it came the feeling of the bra's cups loosening. Heat overcame her as her wide eyes stared him down, and he peered up at her with his teeth still keeping the clip from coming apart entirely.

Did he really—and with his mouth...?

She tensed, biting her lower lip at the message she had so clearly received from him. Satisfied, he let go of her sides to grip the bottom of the cups, opening his mouth and sliding his fingers inwards to redo the clip again.

She didn't doubt that Luka being so respectful with her at all times of the day contributed to the idea that he wasn't physically attracted to her, but she learned then that he was a near-adult just as she was with everything that came with that. He just hadn't shown it out of what he deemed to be care for her, which only made him all the more attractive.

His eyes, deep blue and longing for nothing but her, were an ocean of possibilities, with her onboard the boat sailing across it. It'd been an unsteady ride at times, her feet struggling to keep balance when the waves of affection struck, and she'd remained on it for fear of drowning.

But it'd been silly, as not only would he not let her go, but how could she drown when he offered her so much life?

Trailing a hand past his shoulder, fingertips running across his upper back and up the back of his neck, her breaths were charged as she gripped his hair. She got down to level with him, glancing meaningfully at his lips and requesting, “Me next.”

Neither waited any longer for the kiss, Luka's hands going around to grip the back of her bra and waistband to pull her in. Marinette, eager to take initiative, parted her lips to probe his with her tongue, a harmonious duet of a moan escaping them when he welcomed her in.

Had she been thinking at all about being heard, she might not've minded getting caught anyway. Being the person that made Luka play at his best and able to show others that he was hers and she was his and look how lucky they are all sounded incredibly appealing. She was awed at the way his confidence bolstered hers and vice versa.

They tasted each other, both the unfamiliarity of the other's mouth and the lingering hint of iced tea. They were two threads of fabric weaving themselves together, ensuring that they would never have to part again, and Marinette's mind buzzed with excitement.

She'd always wondered why Luka, despite being a smidgen older than her and having raised money since he was able to get a part-time job, had never gone anywhere, staying on the Liberty as if waiting for something. She could be certain then, that he'd been waiting for her, clinging to whatever evidence, hope, or curiosity that he may've had that things were mutual between them. He'd sent the knowledge into her through the kiss, yet another case of talking to the other without needing to say it.

The kiss broke with two gasps for air, their chests heaving as they took each other in. Luka's eyes, once iced over not with innocence exactly but as a way of hiding the depth of his feelings for her, now burned with love and desire. Marinette knew instinctively that hers were the same.

Letting out a breath, she reached back for just a moment to grab the corner of the blanket, bringing it up and around them for coverage. Nestling herself around him and cherishing the way he cuddled her so gently after such an intense moment between them, she could only giggle at herself.

“I can't believe I confessed to you in my underwear,” she whispered, a secret for just the two of them.

Drunk on her affection, he chuckled blissfully. “You confessed to me.”

“I can't believe that's all you're focusing on!“

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette had been to amusement parks before, but it'd been so many years since her last one. It was something her parents thought to do every now and then when she was young, and she'd only had so many chances as a teen that weren't tainted with memories of akuma battles. Once she became a full-fledged adult, it was too hard to excuse going to one by herself for fun.

She didn't have an excuse anymore for two reasons, one being her daughter and the other being the tickets that Jagged Stone had practically forced upon her. The man still had just as much energy as he did when they met and appointed himself as her baby-at-the-time's "Great Uncle J," a name that both sounded young and apparently gave him every right to spoil her rotten.

That, naturally, included the tickets, though he'd added at the time that they were a reward for all of Marinette's help throughout the years, whether that be as Marinette or Ladybug.

So there they were, her and the bundle of energy clinging to her hand like they'd be separated the instant she let go, eyes enthusiastically searching the rides and stalls. Marinette was only thankful that she wasn't the kind of child to run off on her own unless it was actually something important and not a whim.

"So? Any rides look good?" she asked, sensing that her little girl was in being so overloaded in her head that she couldn't speak unless prompted to mode. It was just too obvious with how fast she was turning her head, her black hair constantly getting in her face and swishing over her shoulders.

Kalette looked up at her, then grabbed the hand she'd already been holding with her other hand. "The teacups! I gotta know what it's like to be tea in a teacup!"

"Sound logic," she complimented, trying not to giggle. Was it egotistical to think about how cute her child was when said child looked so much like her? "Do you want to eat first?"

"No! Teacups!" Kalette insisted.

"No teacups? You sure changed your mind fast," Marinette joked.

She got a pout in return. "I'm not hungry, really!"

Shaking her head in amusement, Marinette turned around and started guiding Kalette to the teacups ride. There weren't huge crowds or lines since Jagged had made sure to pick a quiet day to buy tickets for, so she was already piecing together what they might do for the rest of the current hour.

If she spins too hard, she might get tired. Maybe we could go on something gentler afterwards where she can just sit and enjoy the ride?

She started searching the area for any nearby gentle rides, but then felt a tug on her hand. She stopped walking and looked down, seeing that Kalette had stilled, staring off into the distance where Marinette was certain the teacup ride wasn't.

"Kalette?" She crouched down, squeezing her hand with a little concern. "What's wrong?"

When Kalette met her gaze, her eyes looked as if she'd been starstruck, her mouth open in awe. She tugged on Marinette's hand - intentionally this time - and pointed, exclaiming, "Mama, that man's got dyed hair just like yours, but blue!"

Marinette felt her heart skip a beat at the familiar mental image that conjured, but she shook the thought away. There was no way that man was there, and she shouldn't be getting distracted by the mental image of someone she hadn't seen in so long.

But then she looked up, following Kalette's point to a man in the crowd that had a little boy with him. The man was decently tall, dressed up a little punk but not excessively so, and had black hair dyed blue at the tips.

She felt her heart clench, recognizing him despite his back facing her. Even the tiny strand at the top of his head hadn't changed, and she involuntarily uttered a tiny, "Luka...?"

She felt sure that there was no way he could've heard her with how quiet her voice had been, yet he suddenly stopped. Her brain fumbled with thoughts about how he must've gotten distracted by something, or was taking in the sounds, or anything else, all of which were put into question when he glanced over his shoulder.

Their eyes met. She couldn't believe it, wondering if she'd tripped and been knocked unconscious as her head hit the pavement, thus making all of this some crazy dream she was having. The screams of people on rollercoasters, the smell of citrus from a nearby drink stall, and the tiny hand squeezing hers were all so vivid, but the sight of Luka Couffaine standing there was surreal.

And then Luka's eyes widened. He turned fully, the boy at his side going with him as he approached, pathing straight towards her.

"Marinette?" He sounded breathless, like he'd ran there. She was still crouched down, leaving the sky as the backdrop behind Luka's face casting a beautiful backlight onto him.

Forcing herself back to attention, she stood up, dusting off her perfectly clean pants. "Luka! Hi! It's—wow, it's..."

"It's been so long," he finished.

"Yeah!" she agreed. Feeling her daughter's dangerously curious gaze burning a hole in the side of her head, Marinette gently pulled her in front, gesturing to her with a free hand. "Oh, this is my daughter, Kalette. Kalette, this is Luka Couffaine, my..."

Friend? Ex? Guy-That-She-Never-Quite-Got-Over-But-Didn't-Realize-It-For-a-Long-Time?

"...He's Great Uncle J's son," she decided, figuring that going with association would be best. Even if she'd stuck with "friend," that was so vague as to be completely meaningless, but Kalette knew Jagged extremely well.

Luka gave Kalette a crooked smile. "Hey, Kalette. Nice to meet you." He gestured to the boy at his side, eyes flicking to both Marinette and Kalette as he introduced, "This is Nika, my son."

Son. Marinette's eyes were unconsciously drawn to his hand, noticing that he wasn't wearing anything on his ring finger. Her free hand falling back to her side, her thumb rubbed at her own ring(less) finger. She reminded herself then that it didn't mean he was single and also that it was none of her business.

"Hi, Nika," she greeted, pretending not to be going through a crisis.

"We were just going to get something to eat," Luka added, confirmed with a small nod from Nika. "What about you two?"

She opened her mouth, but a squeeze tight enough to hurt turned her attention down to Kalette. "What is it?"

"Mama, I'm hungry," she replied, completely straight-faced.

What.

—————

They ended up at a food stall, Kalette making a show of letting "everyone else" choose first out of politeness, as if she cared one bit about what they were having. Marinette didn't doubt that the little traitor intended to pawn most of the food off on her, Luka, or Nika if she ended up full after a few bites, but she couldn't call her out at the moment and left the task for later.

Having walked all the way alongside Luka, things were at least starting to feel more real, especially when their hands accidentally brushed at one point. He had a calm aura that everyone who knew him naturally gravitated towards, and it hadn't faded with time. She started to feel its effects despite the obvious trap her own daughter had put her in.

"Nika, what do you want?" Luka asked, crouching down to his son's level. "I'll order it for you."

"Um..." Nika gave a side glance at all the food items on the sign, but answered noncommittally, "Anything?"

Judging by the disappointment in Luka's expression, Marinette got the feeling that this happened a lot. She was concerned, simultaneously feeling like she shouldn't be involved, but then Luka stood up and lowered his voice to talk to her, like he felt some obligation to explain.

"Nika has a hard time asking for what he wants," he told her. "I don't know where he gets it from."

She muffled a snort behind her hand. At his perplexed look, she couldn't help whispering back, "Oh, I can't imagine where he gets it, especially not with a dad who's always looking out for everyone else and never asks for anything."

He had the decency to look embarrassed by the accusation.

Now that she was officially involved, Marinette stepped past Luka, putting herself to Nika's other side. She sat down on the ground to be more level with him, bending a leg and resting an arm on its knee to give off a more casual impression.

"Nika," she began gently, "do you think he could help me? Keep a little secret?"

The boy stared, confused by her presence but nodding along.

She leaned in, raising a hand to the side of her mouth to tell him, "I'm so bad at picking things; the worst. You know in cartoons where a character waits so long that they grow a beard? That's me, any time I have to make a decision."

Though he tried to hide his giggling, she could see the smile behind his hand.

"It's the same here. Everything sounds so good, I can't decide!" She put her hand to her chest, trying to look extra pitiful. "Can you give me a recommendation? What would you get?"

His once hesitant eyes gleamed with purpose, and he started to look at the list differently. There was a layer of seriousness there as opposed to the reluctance of someone afraid to get invested in something they weren't going to ask for anyway.

"The, ah..." He tilted his head at her. "The soft pretzel?"

"The soft pretzel!" She gasped and hit her own forehead with the palm of her hand. "Of course!"

She took his hands, bowing her head in a dramatic show of thanks, then let him go and stood back up. Leaning confidently on the counter, she held up two fingers and requested, "Two soft pretzels, please! One for me and another for the soft not-pretzel boy here."

She turned to Luka, still grinning, but it faltered at the look on his face: the brows just barely visible between his bangs, the intensity in his eyes, and the lips parted without actually saying anything.

Marinette blushed and looked away, having forgotten how utterly deadly he could be.

—————

After finding a nice set of table and chairs to sit down on, Marinette and Kalette sat on one end while Luka and Nika sat on the other. They all had soft pretzels, Kalette because it was the easiest for someone who - again - was a traitor who didn't care, and Luka for reasons she could only guess at. Perhaps it was really what he wanted, or he'd just been getting food for insurance in case Nika was still hungry, or he simply wanted to match his son.

He was so handsome. She broke off a piece of her soft pretzel and nibbled on it as she observed all the ways he'd grown up over the years. Her young teenage brain, just barely able to grasp the concept of love, did think he was handsome upon first sight, but now she could truly appreciate it. His eyes especially still had so much warmth after years and years, just as she remembered them. She couldn't say for sure if they'd changed at all actually, but at the very least, she felt even more drawn to them now.

Said eyes flicked up from his soft pretzel to meet hers. She pushed the rest of the bite in her mouth, swallowing and trying to come up with a topic of conversation, not wanting to be considered "weird" for staring without reason.

"I didn't know you had a kid," she admitted. "Jagged never told me."

Which was partially her own fault if she was honest. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in Luka's life - far from it - but she tended to change the subject whenever it came up. It felt wrong to hear about the life of someone she knew she hadn't seen in so long. She imagined that Jagged had Luka work with him on occasions like he did with her, but it'd never been at the same time.

Though, worrying that the topic of his kid might be a sensitive subject, she tried to add, "Um, you don't have to share if you don't want to."

He shrugged. "It wasn't anything serious. He was a happy accident, she didn't want a baby but didn't want to abort, and here we are."

She struggled with the idea that something so life-changing was summarized down to one sentence. She couldn't see Luka as having relations with someone unseriously, but she considered that there might've been more to it that wasn't appropriate to say in front of two kids, or to someone he'd only just met again.

"That was sweet of you," she said. "I bet you're a good dad. Being a good big brother probably carries over, right?"

He chuckled, a little shy from the praise. "I'm doing my best, but you saw that I'm not perfect."

"Now you know how it feels to be mortal like the rest of us," she teased.

The comment reminded her of a fun kid's movie she'd watched with Kalette last week. She turned to her daughter to bring it up as a new, lighter topic, but found that said daughter was no longer there. Puzzled, Marinette turned to her other side to see if Kalette had switched just as a little joke, but she wasn't there either.

Her daughter's voice then spoke from across the table, "Mister Great Uncle J's son, what do you do for your job?"

Dread washed over Marinette as she looked to where Luka was, Kalette sitting on his side opposite of Nika.

Luka, oblivious to what she was up to, smiled and answered, "I make instruments."

"Busy-ly?"

She didn't pronounce busily quite right - she might not have even known that it was a word - but he understood. "Sometimes, but Nika comes first if he needs me."

Nika averted his gaze, bashful but not unhappy to be spoken of in such a way.

Kalette nodded vigorously. "Mhm, mhm." Her eyes flicked down to his sleeve, then she grabbed onto it with both hands. "Can I see your arms?"

"Kalette!" Marinette called in a panic, face flushed and utterly mortified.

Luka, unbothered by the request, put his soft pretzel down, then pulled his sleeves back to reveal his upper arms. Marinette's next words got caught in her throat, staring even more intently than Kalette was.

She could acknowledge a pair of nice arms when she saw them. He wasn't some hyper-buff body builder, but there was noticeable muscle. It made sense for the Luka of the past, who was always decently strong from carrying around heavy musical equipment, to still have it in him.

She was so taken for that moment that she neglected to scold her daughter blatantly poking and feeling his arm. She was a little jealous, and the salt from the piece of soft pretzel she'd just finished was making her feel thirsty.

Then, Kalette declared with a beaming smile, "Mama, I want this one!" with a finger still pressing into Luka's skin.

"Hm?" Luka blinked in confusion.

Marinette snapped back to attention, her hands hitting the table. "K-Kalette!"

"He can be my daddy! He's perfect!" Kalette raised five fingers and counted off her reasoning. "He's not famous, he already has daddy training, he has strong arms to pick me up, your hair matches, and he makes stuff like you do!"

Marinette didn't think she'd ever seen Luka's face turn such a bright shade of red before. Had she not been trying to wrangle in her angel-turned-devil of a daughter, she would've found it cute.

Ah, who was she kidding? She found it cute anyway, which was part of the problem.

"Luka, I am so sorry," she said, unable to physically reach and pull her daughter back like a cat owner picking up their kitten by the scruff. "She... she does this sometimes—all the time. She gives me her opinion on the men I meet and their 'qualifications' to be my husband and her dad."

She didn't add that Luka had been the first person Kalette had ever approved of. Was that worse or better than the alternative, considering the circumstances and how unknown Luka's current feelings were to her? Nika wasn't even saying anything, totally unreadable.

Kalette pouted, protesting, "But you told me to always tell the truth!"

"Not like this!" Marinette countered, wondering how such obvious advice for a child - 'be honest' - had backfired on her.

She bit her lip, watching Luka's facial movements carefully. He was staring in her direction, but not at her face, his mouth open but not forming words.

Did Kalette break him? Was that covered by health insurance?

"I..." His mouth shut as he swallowed, running a hand through his fluffy black-and-blue hair. "I... had no idea."

She sighed in relief. He lived.

She tore another piece of soft pretzel off, trying to bring things back to somewhere casual. "This is the first time you met. Of course you had no idea—"

"—that you were single," he clarified, and it became clear then that he'd been staring at her hand before, looking for a ring just like she had to him. "I thought you were still with Adrien."

The name made her brow twitch. The embarrassment she'd felt a second ago washed away into a sea of something else entirely, her grip on her piece of soft pretzel tightening.

"Nooo!" Kalette ducked back under the table and reappeared at her original spot. She whined, trying to pry the poor thing from Marinette's hands, "You're gonna smoosh it!"

While she tried to stretch and squish the pretzel back to its original shape, Marinette let out a tired breath. Shooting Luka a sarcastic look not directed at him, she proclaimed, "Oh, yes, because why would I ever divorce Paris's golden boy, the angel among men? We were Ladybug and Chat Noir, brought together by destiny and the will of people who never left me alone."

The last part was said with extra spite, and she didn't elaborate on if she meant her friends or Paris shipping two teenagers together like they had nothing better to do with their lives. She forced herself to take a breath, having not planned to get riled up on a simple trip to the amusement park.

"Sorry—" she began to say.

"No, I... I'm sorry," Luka stammered. "I know I didn't know, but I should've."

Yet he didn't, which was crazy to her. How out of the loop was he that he missed such big news? Was it intentional on his part? Had he stayed away from news about her the same way she did for news about him?

Her next words spilled out without her meaning to; he'd always been easy to talk to. "It was years ago. The puppy love that got me through a few years of shallow dating where everything revolved around being together couldn't last when we started actually living together. That's around the time you're expected to communicate—" She intentionally said the word as if it'd been foreign to her. "—and we couldn't do that. He'd say he was fine and then blow up later, and I treated life like I was still Ladybug, where everything was on me to fix."

She placed a hand on her stomach, allowing herself a moment to think back, and her other hand went to the top of Kalette's head.

"Then I got pregnant, and I was happy." She paused for effect. "But I realized that I was already taking care of a child and one was more than enough at that age."

Luka's hand flew to his mouth to hide a chuckle that threatened to burst out. He was better at hiding it than Nika, but she still caught it.

Smiling to herself, she stroked her daughter's hair and continued, "So, I got out. Penny even planned out a nice little vacation for me so I could get away from Paris and rethink my life. I needed it; there were so many things I didn't think about until then."

His eyes narrowed in concern, wanting to ask but not sure if it was alright.

She gave a one-armed shrug, not minding. "Trauma, honestly. Turns out that being in a city you've seen destroyed in alternate timelines, were always on edge in since an akuma could attack at any time, and where you always had eyes and publicity on you no matter what form you're in isn't good for your mental health. I only ever go back so my parents and grandparents can see Kalette."

She wished she'd had a drink to sip casually from, but she made due, hoping she conveyed that she didn't need him to feel bad for her.

"It's all in the past," she insisted, and she meant it. "I'm still working out exactly what I want, but I've got a good job, a nice house, and—"

"—and me!" Kalette jumped in, setting the only semi-malformed piece of soft pretzel down on her plate so she could put both hands on the one stroking her hair.

Marinette laughed, pulling her giggly, squirmy daughter onto her lap. "I was getting there! I had to save the best for last."

Her eyes flicked back up to Luka and Nika across the table. Luka had a sad, sympathetic smile on his face, which she'd expected from him, while Nika had a fist in front of his mouth as he looked at both her and Kalette.

"I'm happy for you," Luka said, an emotion somewhere deep in his tone that she couldn't place. "I just wish I could've been there when you needed it."

He really hadn't changed at all, which made her feel even more than in the infrequent random dreams she'd had where they met again. She tried not to let it all show on her face, though her voice shook when she replied, "When you were there, it made all the difference. I know how much you cared about me."

"Care," he corrected without missing a beat. "I never stopped caring about you."

There went the whole "try not to let everything show" thing. She blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears and breaking eye contact with him. "I never stopped caring about you either. Where do you think the dye came from?"

He gaped, leaning forward in his seat. "Really?"

Kalette looked up at her, as best as she could from her place on her lap. "Really?!"

She giggled, shy at the interest but not to where she was going to lie about it. "A few years after Kalette grew up, I finally felt like I carved out a life for myself away from Paris." She still couldn't bring herself to look at him, but turned her gaze enough that she could see his face out of the corner of her eyes. "You know how some people cut their hair as a new start?"

He nodded.

"Well, I dyed mine." She ran her fingers through the pink tips of her bangs. "Kalette liked practicing doing my hair anyway, so I couldn't cut it, but... it felt right to dye it. You always looked so confident with yours, and—"

"It's amazing." Luka sounded like he'd blurted it out, which surprised her, as he'd always seemed to think through everything he said otherwise. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," she squeaked, twisting a strand of her dyed hair. "You too."

He beamed at her, reminiscent of a Luka from the past wearing her silly Kitty Section costume and confessing to her while an assortment of colored stage lights shone bright in the background. It was almost too much for her heart to take.

Nika, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke up. "Kalette?"

He'd never said the name before and it sounded odd on his tongue. Luka in particular was shocked that he'd spoken up at all.

It was also the first time the two kids had addressed each other, but Kalette replied affably, "Mhm~?"

He glanced at Luka, then Marinette, then back at Kalette. "Can we share?"

Luka and Marinette flushed all over again. Kalette, meanwhile, brightened like the sun and hit the table with her tiny fists, exclaiming, "Yeah we can!"

"Kalette!"

—————

After everyone had finished their soft pretzels (or passed them off to someone else when they were full), it was mutually agreed that they'd continue enjoying the amusement park together, and not just because Kalette and Nika wanted to. It was a chance to reconnect, and it was reigniting positive feelings that Marinette hadn't thought she'd be able to have again.

Luka put the plates in a little stack, then went along with the rest of the group to the nearest trash bin to discard them. Nika had already been holding his hand out, so Luka took it and turned to walk with him, instructing gently, "Let's go."

"Ah—wait—!"

Before Marinette had even realized it, her hand shot out and grabbed Luka's other hand. He looked back at her, immediately worried that something had gone wrong, but she hadn't tripped and there was no emergency that required hand holding of all things.

"Uh..." She trailed off, fumbling for reasoning. "I... don't want to get separated?"

It was a laughable excuse out of context - the place wasn't even crowded - but she hadn't been referring to the amusement park. Seeing him turn away from her and make any distance brought a fear that'd laid dormant for so long.

She let out a small noise as he pulled her closer. Their eyes met, his own half-lidded as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Me neither."

She couldn't bring herself to ask him if he meant it the way she'd meant it or the way it had sounded, but the knot in her stomach that had been there ever since their break-up as teens was slowly coming undone. It told her something, even if she couldn't address it at the moment.

Kalette was at her other side, bouncing excitedly and holding her other hand. She was really there, a single mom with her daughter, and now she was with Luka, a single dad with his son. To any onlookers, it really would've appeared like they were two parents taking their kids to the amusement park.

Her grip on Luka's hand tightened, determined not to let go again, and she felt him squeeze back.

[mc-lukanette]

As Ladybug, Marinette wasn't sensitive to the cold, but she still shuddered as the sun made way for the moon. Patrol had been particularly exhausting this time around, but now she was free to sit atop the Eiffel Tower with her partner, Viperion, and stare down at the city below.

“Ugh!” She tipped her head back and groaned. “I'm gonna be feeling all that in the morning. You?”

He chuckled, massaging one of his shoulders. “Definitely. I hope you don't have anything important to do tomorrow.”

“Nothing physical,” she replied, grateful for that fact, ”but I can't wait to get home and relax.”

“Me too—” Viperion stopped short, covering his mouth with a hand as he stared off at the sky.

Ladybug squinted at him, concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I was supposed to get groceries today, but...”

“Patrol happened. Trust me, I get it.” Frowning, she asked, “So you don't have any food at home?”

“I have food,” he insisted, though in typical Viperion fashion of reassuring her first and thinking later. “...Fruit, vegetables...”

“That's not dinner,” she chided.

She considered for a moment that she was crossing a line, but they had always cared for each other. In-between fights, interviews, and all other matters, they asked vaguely about the other's personal lives, just deep enough to be considerate but not so much that they were giving away any important details that might reveal their identities. It was a vital part of bonding as a team, in their minds.

“...Listen,” she began, unable to let the matter go after he'd worked so hard alongside her that day, “what if you had dinner with me?”

He hummed, not entirely resistant to the idea but asking the obvious, “How are you going to do that without me knowing anything?”

She rubbed her cheek, thinking hard about it. She knew intuitively that it couldn't have been impossible to have dinner with him without risk involved, but leaving and then coming back with food seemed improper.

It did, however, give her a very funny mental image of her leaping across rooftops with a plate and silverware in her hands.

The biggest problem would be if they'd known each other in real life. Even disregarding her parents showing up to Viperion and Ladybug hanging out in her room, he'd be seeing where she lived and—

...Seeing.

“Ahah!” she exclaimed, grinning to herself as she grabbed the yoyo at her waist. She saw Viperion lean towards her curiously as she dug around inside the magical compartment, brushing aside object after object until she felt the one she wanted.

She made a mental note to talk to Tikki about the lack of advancement in something so magical, then managed to grab what she wanted and pulled it out: a long, red scarf.

She put her yoyo back, then grabbed both ends of the scarf and stretched it, staring at Viperion with purpose. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

—————

Carrying Viperion into the little studio of sorts was quite the task, but compared to dealing with whatever nonsense Hawk Moth threw their way, it was nothing. Closing the window behind her, she let Viperion down from her back and checked his face, reaching around to confirm that the knot on the scarf was still tight.

“How's it feel?”

“That's the third time you asked,” he noted with amusement. “It feels soft, and I can't see a thing.”

“Perfect!” She beamed. Extending a hand out to him, she offered, “Here, I'll lead you to the couch.

He reached out, missing on the first attempt, but she caught his hand and slowly took him across the floor, past the room they were in then into another.

“...It's quiet.” There was a hint of worry in his voice. “I hope you don't live alone.”

He was careful to phrase it as a statement rather than a question. Though they hadn't told each other personal details, it was obvious that they were both somewhere in their teens, too young to live on their own.

“Ahh, don't worry about it,” she responded easily. “Let's just call this the Ladybunker and leave it at that.”

It was the only real way she could describe it without outing herself. In reality, Jagged Stone had given her the space to work, far away from the bakery and most things that would serve as a distraction. At the time, she'd thought it was too generous a gift, but now she was feeling grateful for it.

Guiding Viperion to the couch, she gave him a second to bump it with his heel so he could gauge its position, then she helped him sit down. Trusting him, wholly and completely, she whispered, “Tikki, detransform me.”

She shut her eyes against the light, releasing Viperion's hand and taking a step back. When she was fully detransformed, Tikki was hovering in front of her, wide eyes swapping back and forth from her to Viperion.

“L-Ladybug! Why is he here?”

“I invited him here to eat. He's not going to look,” Marinette told her. “If you're worried, you can watch him.”

She didn't bother pointing out that it was showing a lack of trust to do so, knowing that Tikki already knew that.

Turning her attention back to Viperion, she wondered, “You're not going to be bored, are you? There's a TV if you...”

He shook his head. “I'll be alright. I can still help you too.” He reached behind him, retrieving the lyre at his back with a playful smile. “I'll set the mood for cooking.”

She snorted, but silently accepted the offer and turned around. She took one step, then a second step, but heard the plucking of a string on the second and another on the third.

He was playing a melody to her footsteps.

Stopping to face him, she pretended to glare even whilst failing to hold back her smile. He couldn't see it, but he smiled back, wholly aware of the reaction he was getting.

Rolling her eyes fondly, she departed for the kitchen and accepted the happy beats playing along to her walking. Tikki flew behind her at first, hesitated, then decided to stay somewhere between where Marinette and Viperion were, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Marinette took her time looking through each of the cupboards, knowing from the last time she was there that there'd be enough food for dinner yet unsure how of what to put together. She didn't consider herself a great cook, but she could certainly make something to satisfy a couple of teenagers whose meals consisted of cafeteria food and whatever they could manage to eat when they weren't busy doing hero work.

The ingredients available to her were mostly ones that wouldn't expire quickly, such as canned tomatoes instead of fresh, which was simply how it had to be when she couldn't guarantee when she'd have time to visit. Besides, fresh didn't always mean better, she reasoned like a poor college student in training.

She reached for a box of dried spaghetti noodles, then froze as something occurred to her. Turning her head to make sure her voice would project properly, she called out, “Viperion! Do you have any aller—“ She stopped short, debating if allergies would be too much information, then changed it to, “Is there anything you wouldn't want to eat?”

Rather than responding with words, the tune he'd been playing changed to something light, but lower-pitched than before. In other words, no.

Giggling to herself, she set the box of pasta on the counter and went about her search for sauce and anything else that might go well with it.

—————

Marinette honestly wouldn't have put it past her luck to somehow burn pasta of all things, yet getting the meal together went pleasantly well. Sure, she may have overshadowed the noodles with everything else she added to it - courtesy of a frozen bag of mixed vegetables, complete with onions and peppers - then oversauced the whole dish in a bit of miscalculation on her part, but it was far better than whatever Viperion would've had back at his house.

She thought better of only putting two plates together, remembering Tikki and pulling out a bowl to put some chocolate ice cream into. Despite being such a stickler for rules, Tikki was surprisingly easy to placate when sweets were involved.

Once she had the ice cream neatly scooped into the bowl, topped with a tiny spoon that even a kwami could manage, Marinette called Tikki out. Taking the two heaping plates of pasta in her arms, she passed by her kwami and headed back out to Viperion, safe in the knowledge that neither of them would be bothered by the world for a few precious minutes.

He was still playing his lyre, though only long enough to bring the music to a natural end. Directing his head towards the plates of food, he complimented, "It smells good."

"It helped that I only had to worry about the smell and taste," she said jokingly. "This could be the worst-looking dish you've ever had and you'll never know."

He put his lyre down, holding his hands out expectantly. "I'm sure it's not."

Slowly, she gave him the plate and sat next to him to get comfortable. While she couldn't tell him so, he was the first guest she'd ever brought there and she was glad it was him despite the invite having only been due to his lack of dinner. It was a shame, she felt, that they couldn't just do this all the time.

She was midway through her first bite of food when she noticed the inevitable issue Viperion was having. Basic awareness and feeling let him stab at the food, swirl the spaghetti using his fork, and lift it to his mouth, but it was uncertain from there. The food would bump just a little off from his lips, or one of the vegetables would fall off without him noticing, or he'd go in for another bite and get an awkward clink from the fork touching a bare part of the plate.

He didn't appear to mind, but it wouldn't be viable for the whole meal.

Setting her plate to her side, Marinette asked hesitantly, “Um... could I feed you?”

There was another clink, this time from his surprise at the sudden offer. He turned his head towards her and she could only imagine what the unseen part of his face must've looked like.

“You sure?”

All things considered, it was a promising reaction, as he didn't appear disgusted by the idea. She ran with it eagerly, replying, “Yeah! I invited you here, so it's my responsibility. What'll Paris think if they hear that the great hero Viperion kept dropping his food?”

His lips twitched into a smile at that. He gave in without any further argument, turning himself towards her and passing her his plate and fork. “Sorry I can't help with the dishes.”

She scoffed, “It's not that much. Now hush and open your mouth.”

He giggled, leaning in and obeying the playful order. Marinette fidgeted for a moment with his fork in her hand, noting that it was still warm from his touch, then twirled some spaghetti and made sure to get some of the other ingredients on top before raising it to his mouth.

A few noodles hung down from the fork, but it just made it all the easier for Viperion to tell when she'd gotten the food in his mouth. His lips clamped down, a soft “mm,” emanating from the back of his throat that she couldn't recall him making when he'd been feeding himself. She could feel the movement at the unseen end of the fork as took the food off of it with his tongue and teeth, even pulling back with a lick of his lips.

“It's really good,” he whispered. “You're a great cook.”

Marinette swallowed, suddenly realizing the kind of situation she was in. She'd genuinely invited him there as one partner-in-crime-fighting looking out for the other, but she hadn't known it would turn out to be so domestic. There they were, two teenagers all alone and having dinner that she made for them. Barring the makeshift blindfold and Viperion's bodysuit, it would've looked like a normal date between a couple.

“Ah... thanks,” she uttered. Part of her wanted to reject the compliment and point out all the obvious mistakes she'd made, but she couldn't bring herself to do it when he smiled at her like that.

This was dangerous, at least going off of what her heart was trying to communicate to her, but she was the one who'd offered to feed him, so she continued. It wasn't that she was unaware of how she felt about Viperion, but usually it could be ignored under the guise of worrying about akuma or looking out for danger on patrol. She didn't have any such excuse when they were having such a nice, quiet moment together.

A few minutes passed, Marinette swapping between feeding Viperion and feeding herself. She would've been perfectly willing to heat up her food later, but he'd insisted that she eat too, leading to her working out how to feed him with one hand and herself with the other. Most distracting of all was when she didn't swirl the spaghetti quite right and Viperion would slurp the loose-hanging noodles into his mouth with the rest of them.

It almost made it a relief when she looked down and saw that there wasn't any food left on his plate. She still had a couple bites' worth on her own, but they had fairly decisively finished having dinner together. Not wanting to delay him longer than needed since he was already done, she turned briefly to her plate to eat the remaining noodles, careful not to scarf them down or risk him hearing and gently scolding her for it.

As she stacked the plates and silverware on top of each other, she took one last glance at him, stopping short of heading off for the sink when she noticed a bit of sauce lingering on his face. It was right below his lips, just out of range for his tongue.

"Oh, you got..." She went to point, but remembered that he couldn't see and told him, "I'll get it."

She supposed she could've just went to grab a paper towel, tried to instruct him on the specific spot, or took his hand to show him physically where he needed to wipe away at, but she did none of those. Perhaps it was because she was already about to go back to the kitchen where she could've washed her hands, but she reached up to him, using the back of two bent fingers to wipe away the sauce on his face.

Unexpectedly, Viperion visibly froze, sucking in a breath and holding it in. Marinette pulled back, puzzled by the reaction, especially from someone who was typically so composed.

A few seconds passed before he let out the air in one exhale, the portion of his cheeks that she could see flushing a light pink. Faintly embarrassed, he said, "Sorry. I thought it was... something else."

Something else?

Marinette stared down at the sauce on her fingers, parsing together what he could've meant by that. She'd grant that he couldn't see, but all she'd done was touch near his lips to—

Ah.

She matched his blush, the mental image burning its way into her mind. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, thoughts racing to process that Viperion would even think about her kissing him. Did that mean it was something he would've considered, or hoped for?

“...You didn't pull away,” she noted, mostly to herself. She chewed at her bottom lip, debating on what she should do next. They were heroes, she reminded herself, but they were also teenagers and there was definitely something in the air that wasn't coming from just her.

Slowly, she leaned forward, placing a hand delicately on Viperion's shoulder and licking the sauce from her other before bringing her face a few inches in front of his. With her heart pounding in her ears, she experimentally let out a breath, ensuring he knew what was in front of him this time.

The reaction was immediate. Viperion's arm snagged her waist, Marinette gasping inaudibly as he pulled her in and took hold of her chin. She shuddered as his thumb brushed just underneath her lips, him gauging their exact position before tilting his head.

Then, he pulled her in and kissed her. She squeaked in delight, grabbing onto his other shoulder too and following his movements to bring her onto his lap without breaking the kiss. The hand behind her gently massaged her back, working at the knots that had accumulated over the course of patrol, and she repaid the favor by kneading his shoulders.

They might've spent longer tasting each other rather than her food, and she blushed at the loud clicking noise when they pulled apart, taking solace in that he had the exact same face as her. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

They didn't talk about what had happened for the time being, lost in thoughts of what ifs and what it meant for their partnership, but she secretly hoped that he might want to join her for dinner again.

Especially if there'd be another kiss for dessert.

[mc-lukanette]

"Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody. You've been the song stuck in my head since the day we first met."

Luka meant every word of it. He hadn't known Marinette for long but he knew people. Whether one called it intuition, a sixth sense, or nothing more than a "feeling," he didn't care. Marinette was a special girl and anyone who didn't know didn't understand her. It was the way she talked, the way she laughed, and even the way she was constantly stumbling over herself because she cared so much about others.

He felt it in her designs and had seen the process himself, how she would sit in the same spot for hours until someone snapped her out of it. He wore his Kitty Section costume proudly because of it and swore that it made him play better, just by having a piece of her with him.

That was all he needed, as far as he was concerned. Whether she loved him or not was irrelevant, and he only confessed at all in the first place because he wanted to alleviate whatever doubts she'd had. He was just happy to know her and to be called her friend.

She looked so beautiful against the colorful stage lights too. Had he not needed to leave, he might've told her so. He only hoped she wouldn't run off to let them take all the credit if there were any interviews afterward. She was just as big a part of the band as he was.

He smiled and released her shoulder, turning around to face the stage where he was set to play with the others. He took one step, two steps—

and then his wrist was snagged, pulling him back. He tried to keep his balance, especially as another hand grabbed at his jacket to bring him downwards. Everything was happening too fast, his vision only able to register the blur that was Marinette's face coming towards him.

Heat flooded his system as her lips came into contact with his skin, just to the side of his mouth. She'd kissed him on the cheek before, but that had come off entirely friendly as opposed to the one she'd given him now.

"Worse" still was that he knew she'd missed her intended target in her rush, which was definitely not his cheek.

It was over too soon, but he registered the voices behind him calling him to the stage as Marinette let him go and pulled away. Despite the bold move, she looked away sheepishly and cleared her throat, her blush obvious even in the lighting.

"U-um... good luck?" she said, giving him a fluttery wave.

His shoes felt like they were filled with very selective lead, keeping him firmly in place unless he was moving towards her specifically. Alas, his bandmates were still calling and not going would've ruined all the effort Marinette had put into getting them to this point.

Thus, he turned - for real this time - and went to set up with the others.

—————

Luka somehow managed to concentrate throughout the entire performance. The nice thing about his Kitty Section mask was that he could look around freely without being noticed, particularly at the siren of a girl standing in the background watching his every move. Her fingers were steepled in front of her mouth, making it hard to gauge her exact expression, but her eyes never left his.

Each note he played felt like a pleasant shock through his body, a positive feedback loop that kept going throughout the whole song. It'd happened before when he was in a good mood, playing his feelings through the strings, but not like this.

Not after being kissed by the one he was in love with, and not on a stage where the energy surrounding him was so high. Whenever he turned to the other bandmates, they were staring at him in bewilderment, but not in any bad way. He wasn't overshadowing them or throwing off the song, he was just more of what was already there, and the stage crew was getting into it.

It was fantastic.

By the time everything was over and the recording was done, there was nothing stopping him anymore. He wordlessly passed his guitar to a confused Rose, then walked off the stage, past the crew, and past a reporter who had snuck in and was asking him questions he didn't bother listening to. He pushed his mask up and took a straight path directly towards Marinette, who was bouncing from the thrill of the moment.

"That was incredible, Luka!" she squealed. "It sounded even better than in the video! People are going to love it, I—"

He grabbed her face and kissed her. It momentarily occurred to him that he could've said something romantic like, "I only played so well because you were there," which was true, but kissing her the way she'd tried to kiss him seemed like a far more appropriate response to what she'd done.

It felt equivalent to getting to play a song she'd written just for him, which was almost a shame. Had he known she could've made noises like she was just by him kissing her, he would've suggested a different type of song for the music video.

There was a shriek in the background that was probably Rose, which he paid no mind to. He broke the kiss, but remained hunched over to Marinette's level, still holding her blushing face and cherishing the warmth against his palms.

"Did you love it?" he asked quietly, stroking her cheeks. "That's all I care about."

Her voice had raised an octave when she replied, "O-of course? I said it was incredible! I love you—it! A lot!"

She managed to fit her hands between his, covering her face with an embarrassed whine. He sighed blissfully, dropping his hands to wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her shoulder.

"I can't believe you tried to kiss me," he began, then added even though he could've left it at that, "right before I had to go on stage."

"Sorry," came the muffled apology behind her hands, though he smirked when he caught the hint of not actually being sorry in her voice. She returned his embrace, squeezing and shaking a little as she whispered, "I should've done it sooner."

When Luka had thought just a few minutes ago that he would've been perfectly happy just getting to know Marinette and be her friend, he meant it, but he wasn't about to complain about being thrice as perfectly happy either.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette took a breath, as well as her time, as she made sure that everything was correct. She'd looked up all available information that she could, wrote it all down multiple times to make sure she'd memorized it, and now it was just a matter of putting it to work.

Her knees began to hurt from kneeling on the hardwood for so long, but she persisted, wiping sweat from her forehead to keep it from dripping onto and potentially ruining her work. The chalk in her hand had been whittled down to a little nub, causing her knuckles to occasionally scrape against the living room floor as she drew with it, but she merely adjusted her grip and kept going.

She'd worked so hard for this. She couldn't delay it now.

When she finished, she took a step back to survey her work. Though the lights were off, the illumination from the candles provided more than enough for her to see what mattered; if anything, she added too many.

Nevertheless, the drawing on the floor matched what she'd put in her sketchpad, barring the excessive notes and instructions she'd written for herself.

It was ready.

Retrieving the slip of paper from her pocket, Marinette patted her chest, took a sip of water from the cup on the coffee table, and cleared her throat. The absolute, most embarrassing thing would be to do all of this and then mess up because she couldn't pronounce something properly.

With a quick tongue twister to ensure that her mouth was set for the task at hand, she finally looked down at the paper and read it aloud, that mess of letters and pronunciations that she wasn't sure she'd ever used in her life. Her notes helped, but she could hope that she got it right.

At first, nothing happened. Marinette stared down at her drawing, then at the candles that looked pretty but ultimately weren't doing anything. Her work suddenly appeared as a random impulse to draw on the floor and make it look spooky by using the candles.

Then, she felt a light breeze. The fire on the candles wavered, flowing outwards away from the center of her drawing. She took a cautious step closer, feeling the wind grow stronger to where the hair flowing over her shoulders was blown behind her, falling loosely along her back.

All at once, the fire on the candles were snuffed out, Marinette's breath catching as she watched it the flames appear in the center of her drawing. The colors flashed, from orange, to blue and then to pink, before the fire blazed outwards with a vengeance. Startled, she jumped back, swearing that she saw the embers touch her bangs, yet her hair seemed perfectly fine when she checked. It made sense coming from a magical fire, but she wasn't used to it.

She'd never tried summoning a demon before.

Sparks of light popped off from the ever-brightening fire, sounding like tiny fireworks amidst the hissing of the flames. She couldn't bring herself to look away for an instant, even when she had to squint against the light.

Faintly, she could spot a forming silhouette in the middle of the fire, but couldn't make out any definite shapes. It was only as it blazed upwards, all energy from her efforts coalescing into that one moment before bursting and burning itself out, that she could finally see the being it'd hidden.

Demon horns, sticking out amongst a mass of black hair that was blue at the tips. As if that weren't enough of a giveaway of the inhuman nature, the demon - notably male - had skin that was light blue and had notable ridges going along it, as well as blue eyes that glowed in the darkness of the room.

His eyes met hers. Marinette's heart pounded at her success, perfectly in tune with his footsteps as he approached her. Could he hear it?

"You summoned me," he stated, placing a clawed hand to his chest. In contrast to the hint of fangs that showed through, his smile was soft and polite. "How can I help you?"

She blinked, dropping the slip of paper she'd been holding, almost unable to believe that her plan had actually gone through without a hitch. With all of her bad luck, she half-expected to summon a dragon or giant or something and have to explain to everyone why her house was destroyed.

"O-oh!" She hadn't planned this far and hurried to formulate an introduction. Flailing, she babbled, "Yeah, yes, of course! Um, I'm Marinette, and I really could use your help!"

"Hi, Marinette," he greeted. "I'm Luka."

Luka. All things considered, it was a surprisingly human name, but she remained focused on the task at hand.

"Right. Well, see... the thing is—" She brought her fists up in determination. "I need someone to cuddle with."

A pause followed, only accompanied by a slow blink from Luka. His smile faltered, expression turning to confusion.

"...What?"

Marinette faltered as well, but for entirely different reasons. "You can't do that?"

"No—" He shook his head, the smile returning with amusement as he ran his claws along his shirt. "Sorry. No one's ever asked for that before. You surprised me."

"Oh." She sighed in relief.

"We can use magic for almost anything. Why do you think we wouldn't cuddle with someone?"

"Culture?" She shrugged. "I thought maybe demons would have rules or etiquette for this. Maybe it'd be weird to cuddle with a human or you'd be—I don't know." She waved off her own idea. "Allergic?"

He snorted, and didn't bother to hide it. "Thanks, but I'll be fine." He looked down at her summoning circle, asking, "Is that why you added more candles? To set the mood?"

She followed his gaze to the floor, able to see his tail now that the glow from his eyes was directed downwards. She wondered how it would feel, both having or touching one. "No. It just... didn't seem like enough? I thought, if I was going to summon a demon, they'd deserve more than what the instructions said."

She'd nearly run out of candles during the process, though it did make for a nice look when she added some tea candles around the taller ones. For a demon making an entrance, it seemed appropriate.

"They're scented," he added, crouching down to take a closer look. "Is that vanilla?"

With a flick of her wrist, she replied proudly, "That is to set the mood! I was trying to think of something soft, and maybe you don't have marshmallows where you're from but it's the perfect soft treat here!"

He hummed, grin widening the more she explained. Placing his hands on his knees, he pushed himself back up to his full height and turned to her. "Should we start then?"

Marinette bounced on her heels, positively thrilled. There was a voice in her head expressing concern over how she was so excited over things simply not going wrong, but she ignored it.

"Yeah! I already have something set up in the corner, ah—" She looked around, trying to spot it in the darkness, but couldn't. Turning back to Luka, she raised a finger towards him. "...Hold on!"

"Wait—"

Just as Marinette went to turn around, a hand caught her wrist. She stiffened, looking back at him worriedly. "What is it? Did you change your mind?"

"We should take care of this first."

He didn't elaborate on what he meant, but he wouldn't stop staring at her hand and she quickly realized why. There were some minor abrasions on her fingers from all the times her knuckles had brushed against the floor, as well as a small burn from when she'd rushed through baking that day so she could do all this sooner.

"It's not a big deal," she insisted, not used to such a reaction. Her friends always rolled their eyes at her clumsiness instead of fretting. "I get hurt all the time."

Luka didn't respond to that. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Eh?"

"That's where you keep your ointment and bandages, right?"

"Uh, yeah, but..." She trailed off, unsure of how to handle this. Didn't demons only ever care about doing what was asked of them, or was that a common stereotype? Would she be expected to pay him extra for this and, if so, how much? Half a soul? A quarter of a soul? How would one go about that?

Those were the thoughts bouncing around in her head as Luka took her across the room, hitting the light switch on the way. Though she hadn't given him any guidance, he smoothly navigated the hallway until he found the bathroom himself.

He had her sit on the bathroom countertop while he rummaged around the cupboards for the necessary supplies. She watched him in a mixture of awe and puzzlement, having apparently not been permitted to do anything, and her hand unconsciously rubbed where he'd grabbed her.

Though his skin had been rough, his grip hadn't been. She still thought he was overreacting, but when she saw the horns moving about just underneath the sink, she couldn't find it in herself to say it.

"Do you do this for everyone?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"It depends on the person," he replied, not looking up from the first aid he was sorting on the other side of the countertop.

What did that mean? That he only did it for clumsy people? For people he thought were worth it? Or...?

After washing her hand under water and drying it, he applied ointment that he managed not to puncture whilst squeezing the tube. His claws, as she soon noted, were also good for more than what one might imagine, as he was adept with handling the bandages thanks to his skin never coming into contact with the sticky side. His claws would handle it, reminding her vaguely of tweezers or a thread slipping smoothly through a needle.

Holding her hand to look it over, he asked, "Is it too tight?"

"Hm?" She blinked at him. "No, you're not even squeezing it."

He raised a brow at her, but smiled. "The bandaging."

"Ah—" She blushed, eyeing his work and flexing her fingers to test; anything to avoid eye contact in that moment. "Y-yeah, it's good. Comfy. Do you do this a lot?"

"I have a little sister," he explained. When he let go of her hand and turned, she thought he might not elaborate, but he added, "We got into a lot of trouble when we were kids and I'd take care of her."

It was odd hearing him so casually bring up a sister. If she'd closed her eyes, she could've pictured a human person standing in front of her instead of a demon. The thought of them having siblings hadn't even occurred to her.

And now she was learning that he's a big brother type. That was... cute, actually.

Hopping down from the countertop to follow him out of the bathroom, she frowned sympathetically. "I guess you got punished by your parents for it?"

He snickered. She didn't understand what could be so funny until he glanced over his shoulder at her and replied, "My mom was more trouble than the both of us, actually."

She gaped at him. There were so many implications to that and the curiosity was burning a hole in her brain. She only held back because they'd arrived at the living room where her little "cuddle area" awaited them.

It was simple, but with every effort made to get it looking comfortable. She'd used cushions, pillows, and the comfiest blankets she had to make a space in the corner that was in every way effective for a place to get snuggled. The scent of vanilla only added to the appeal.

"You went all out," Luka said with an impressed whistle. It sounded a bit like a songbird.

Standing straighter at the praise, Marinette puffed out her chest with pride. "The only way I can do things is to overdo them." Though, deflating slightly, she admitted, "But I didn't know what kind of fabric demons like."

"We're like humans," he answered simply, going up to the pile to feel one of the blankets. "We don't have one kind we like. We're all different."

Given what she'd known of him so far, that made sense. She had tried to research demon preferences but came up empty, so the obvious conclusion was that no one kept track because it wasn't consistent.

Though, she supposed she might also be giving the authors too much credit.

When she pulled herself out of her thoughts, Luka had already sat down on her comfy setup, his tail shifting behind him as he searched for the best place to lie down. He'd taken to it so easily that it was hard not to feel confident in it.

So much so that it looked even more inviting now than it was before he'd arrived.

Stepping up to the cuddle spot herself, she waited for Luka to make room before sitting down next to him. Everything had been freshly washed just before she'd set them out, so there was still the pleasant lingering scent of the dryer sheets as her weight sank into the cushions. She breathed it in, leaning back and pressing her hands into the fluff of the blankets.

"Do you want to lay on me?" Luka asked suddenly.

"What?" Marinette looked over, seeing him laying down comfortably on his back. The cushioning must've been enough that his tail wasn't bothered by it. "Ah."

She hadn't thought that far. The mission was getting a cuddle buddy, but...

"I've never cuddled anyone before," she admitted.

"Me neither," he replied, whether for reassurance or genuine honesty. Maybe both?

Regardless, he outstretched an arm to her in a silent offer for them to learn together. Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity and she nodded.

Laying down against his arm and bringing herself close, the arm soon wrapped around her. She was pulled to his chest, her hands grasping at his shirt before she realized that the cuddling could be mutual. Slowly, piecing the act together like a puzzle, she slipped her arms around him, her head against his chest as she hugged him. Neither of them may have known what they were doing, but she did feel comfortable.

She was surprised to feel the fast heartbeat in his chest, though there wasn't anything in her research that suggested it was abnormal. Maybe demons just had faster heartbeats?

"You're warm," she also noted, feeling the heat encompass her from both Luka and the blankets she'd laid out.

"Demons can change how cool or warm their body is when they need to," he explained, "just in case we get summoned somewhere really hot or cold."

She hummed as she processed that. Demons really seemed to have adapted well to their roles. "And... you said that you could use magic for almost anything? What can't you use it for?"

He needed a moment to think of how to answer her and she allowed it. In the meantime, she focused on the fabric of his shirt in her fingers - only limited by the bandages preventing the skin underneath from touching him - and his claws on her back, able to be felt but never getting caught in anything.

"We can't make people fall in love," Luka finally said. The tone implied there were more examples and he was merely giving one of the bigger ones. "We can help, but the rest is up to them."

Intrigued, she lifted her head to look at him. "Help how?"

"We can make a moment for whoever summons us and the person they want to fall for them; something that makes them curious and want to know more about them." With a grin, he added, "Like this."

She blinked at him. "This?"

"You summoned a demon. Most people do that for something extreme, but you wanted someone to cuddle. You could've gotten another human to do it instead, so of course I'm curious about you."

Curious? Marinette knew that she could act a little unorthodox, so it wasn't uncommon for her to be called odd or strange. By the time she'd become an adult, she'd accepted that part of herself despite being aware that people would still think of her as clumsy, rambling, bizarre Marinette. She could be overwhelming to others, causing difficulties making new friends, but she was content where she was.

Yet, this was the first moment she'd heard anyone be curious rather than weirded out. Was it because he was a demon? Were demons already different enough by default that they wouldn't consider her strange? Or was it just Luka?

Ducking her head, she toyed with the fabric at the back of Luka's shirt. He didn't even seem to mind. "My friends would've made fun of me if I tried to ask any of them, and finding another—uh, human to help was too awkward." She tried to shrug from her shrug-resistant position and felt that he got the gist of the gesture. "I thought that if I asked a demon, it'd be more in my control? And we probably wouldn't see each other again anyway if they rejected me."

"You wanted someone that badly," Luka mumbled, though strangely it sounded like he was talking more to himself than her. Was he sympathizing?

"Almost all of my friends are dating," she elaborated, as if she had to excuse her actions, "so I've seen them cuddling all the time. They always look so happy, and..." She sighed. "I wanted to know what it was like? I did have a boyfriend, but we never got that far before we broke up."

He might've been curious on the details of this 'boyfriend', but he didn't pry. "And? What do you think?"

What did she think? Marinette shifted, pulling herself further against him and focusing on the sensations: the fluff of the blanket against her skin, the body heat warming her, the bandages around her fingers that weren't too tight nor too loose, and the soft shirt under her palms. Squeezing him tighter, she turned her head and pressed her face against his rapid heartbeat to take in his scent. He didn't just feel warm, he smelled warm somehow, like how pastries smell just as they're being baked. That combined with the lingering scent of vanilla made her think of s'mores made over a fire.

"It's really nice. I've never been this relaxed before," she admitted, letting out a little noise of content when his arms squeezed her in return. "Definitely worth a soul."

Luka stiffened and she felt his chest suddenly rumble with a chuckle. She peered up at him, confused.

"I'm not taking your soul, Marinette," he told her. "Demons don't always ask for a soul as payment."

That solved the whole quarter or half of a soul thing she'd been wondering about, at least. "Then what do you want?"

He didn't answer for a moment, staring deeply into her eyes like he was searching for something, all while his hand slowly went up her back, a thumb roaming across one of her shoulder blades. She shuddered in delight.

"What if we do this again?" he eventually asked.

"This?" she repeated, though it hit her a second later. "You mean... cuddling? But that's what I asked you for?"

"And now I'm asking you back."

Blushing, she could only blurt out, "But why?"

He reminded her, "I already told you. I'm curious about you, so I want to do this more, if you'll let me."

He said it like it was really that simple. Marinette had only summoned him there with the intent of getting to feel what it was like to cuddle someone - to be held in someone's arms and hold them back - just once, but now he was offering to do it again, and maybe even more than that?

The answer was obvious, though she did pout and asked bluntly, "Do I have to draw that summoning circle every time?"

The lights were still on, his eyes still had a subtle glow to them, yet his grin was the brightest in the room. "No. Here, get up for a second."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, the two pulling away from each other to sit up. Given the slow speed at which he released her, she wondered if he was just as reluctant as her despite whatever plan he was brewing.

Hunching over and tilting his head down just slightly, Luka instructed, "Put your hands around my horns."

"Wh—is that really okay?"

Instead of answering, he reached out, rough skin brushing against soft as he took her hands in his. He guided them upwards, adjusting his grip to curl her fingers around his horns.

Marinette held her breath, keeping still just in case. She could feel the prominent ridges against her skin and, slowly, those ridges flashed blue. Her instinctive reaction was to pull away, but it didn't hurt, only tingled.

"There," he said, pulling back and out of her grasp. "I marked you."

Her mind went directly to, "Like a cat?"

He shook his head, though entertained by the idea. "No. Now you can call me whenever you want."

She stared down at her hands, turning them every which way, but couldn't see anything different. Luka held them in place to stop her, turning her palms so they were facing upwards.

"All you have to do is say my name and want to see me. Then I'll come to you," he explained.

Her hands really didn't look any different, but somehow, it sounded correct. Experimentally, she called out, "Luka?"

She nearly jumped at the reaction, her hands flashing in a set of parallel lines that matched the ridges of his horns.

Luka's own ridges flashed in kind, and he beamed. "Yeah, like that."

He looked so thrilled that it had worked. Marinette thought that maybe it was because he didn't think it would until the actual conditions of the enchantment registered with her: she had to want to see him, meaning that every time she successfully called him to her - and even now when he was already there with her - she was admitting to wanting him near her.

And that, apparently, made him very happy.

She blushed, imagining that her heartrate was similar to the one she'd heard from him just minutes ago. Did she really just make a cuddle pact with a demon?

Was she going to be alright?

[mc-lukanette]

Ladybug stood on a rooftop, dazed, staring up as the magical ladybugs flew up into the sky and dispersed into nothingness. It hadn't even been a year, yet she'd lost track of all the akuma she'd found.

All the time she'd lost.

Dropping her gaze to the roof under her feet, she wondered how many times she'd jumped across it. The rooftops of Paris had all blended together in her mind, which had long since stopped seeing them as buildings or shops so much as something to step across to get wherever she needed to go, or an object to throw her yoyo at to swing somewhere.

Down below, a crowd was cheering for her and Chat Noir. Their faces were hard to see with her vision occasionally blurring, but she felt they were grateful, at least, and the distance was the only reason why no one saw the tiredness in her eyes. Chat Noir, though he stood right there next to her, was simply too busy putting on a good smile to the cameras to see the way she swayed like she was about to fall over.

That's what she told herself, anyway. Besides, heroes didn't get tired, they didn't need breaks, and they certainly didn't demand sympathy from those around them. They were meant to serve as a higher being, perfect in the eyes of the public.

That was all.

As Ladybug raised a hand to give a smile and wave with energy she didn't have, a group of screams rang out.

"Oh no, i-it's another akuma!"

"Quick, everybody, run!"

"M'lady, look out!"

Everything happened so fast. It was hard to catch up and understand where the horror was directed to, but she turned around under the assumption of a sneak attack. Chat's hand came into contact with her shoulder at the same time, the motion of which indicated that he was about to shove her out of the way.

Instead, she saw a flash of teal and Chat was catapulted back onto one of the rooftops a few buildings away. She couldn't even call out his name before something thick and smooth wrapped around her and brought her to the ground, the air leaving her lungs from the shock. She looked down, noting the snake-like scales, and wriggled, but the grip was tight enough that it was hard to get her arms out.

Strangely, it wasn't so tight that it hurt. Maybe there was an opening somewhere?

"Ha." A smooth, strangely mellow voice spoke, preceding a few delicate, harp-like notes. "That joke Hawk Moth made it too easy."

Twisting her head any which way she could to see the source, Ladybug looked up to see the start of the snake tail she was wrapped in, connected to a seemingly male human body like naga in mythology. The boy - not looking that much older than her - wore a bodysuit matching his snake tail, transitioning so smoothly that it was hard to tell where the torso ended and the tail began. Darker teal lines snaked - quite appropriate given the theming - up his arms, all the way to the hood on his head.

The hood cast a shadow over his face, but she could still see the teal mask, the lower corners jutting down sharply into points to imitate fangs. Had she not been in the process of being restrained by him at the time, she may have complimented his style.

A lyre was clutched in one of his hands, explaining the music she'd heard earlier, and he played a few more notes over the cries of the few people who remained below. "You can call me Hoodstrum. I seek the most valuable things in the world and have had my sights set on this beautiful bug for a while now."

"Get in line!" Chat yelled out from afar. "That's my partner you're taking!"

Ladybug rolled her eyes, genuinely unable to tell if this was more about her being kidnapped or two boys fighting over a girl. "This is not the time, Chat Noir!"

Hoodstrum clicked his tongue, unimpressed by Chat's retort, then raised his free hand behind him in a fist. Slowly, his fingers curled open, and with them what Ladybug could only describe as the fabric of dimensions. A portal was opening at his command, more than large enough for the two of them and shaped like a snake's mouth opening wide. She couldn't see what awaited on the other side either, only colors zipping from side-to-side like lightning bolts.

Were they going to hurt?

"They always say that you don't know what you have 'til it's gone." Plucking one string at a time in a slow, taunting motion, Hoodstrum continued, "But don't worry. I'll be sure to put her in a nice little terrarium."

Chat called out for her again, followed by the sound of his boots against the rooftops, but it was too late. Ladybug felt the tail tighten briefly before throwing her, her world spinning as her surroundings blurred into nothing discernible. The sounds of Chat Noir, the crowd, and Paris itself faded in an instant and she braced for impact, her body curling in on itself to protect anything vital from the rough landing.

Only then to feel the impact against something marshmallow soft and pillow-y.

"Uh—?" Ladybug's body unconsciously relaxed at the unexpected sensation, then tensed again when she recognized what must be a trap. The ground below her would be unstable and hard to move around on, giving Hoodstrum the advantage as he floated above it.

Pushing herself up and fighting against the struggle for balance, her fists flew up into her fighting stance. Her eyes searched viciously for any sort of advantages she could have in this boy's lair, such as a defensive spot under the coffee table, the TV to smash over his head, the fridge in the other room to....

wait.

Ladybug blinked, staring at the weirdly normal living room she was in. The floor was a smooth, gray vinyl and the walls were black, curving into an equally black ceiling. The TV stand housed a couple of well taken care of gaming systems, and the coffee table had a deck of cards stacked neatly atop it. There was an opening with an arc shape in one of the walls leading into the kitchen, an electric kettle on the counter emitting steam and even a clear jar of sweets nearby.

Also, was that a bean bag chair near the couch?

She couldn't see any sign of a front door, but there was a hallway that she could only guess led to a bathroom and bedroom or something similar. Point being, this was not a lair, and certainly not a terrarium in the sinister way Hoodstrum had spoken it. Under her feet as well, there was no deception or trap to be caught in, but actual pillows that she'd landed on.

She had to admit at that point that she was officially, utterly confused.

At that moment, Hoodstrum's voice called out from behind her, "I'm glad I aimed right. I would've felt terrible if I missed the pillows."

Ladybug spun around to face him, but stumbled on the uneven surface. That one was her own fault and she went for the obvious solution of stepping outside of the "pillow zone" while Hoodstrum casually slithered past her, the portal behind him long gone. She watched, waiting for him to suddenly turn and pounce at her, yet he laid himself on the couch instead, looking totally vulnerable to any and all attacks.

"Um," Ladybug began, raising a hand to point around the room, "am I missing something?"

He tossed her a smile, stretching his arms before propping himself back up into a sitting position. The long snake tail made it awkward, but he didn't appear bothered by it. "Sorry. This is my first time doing this for someone."

The phrase 'doing this for someone' implied that it was to her own benefit, only making her more confused.

He explained before she could ask any further, "I'm not a villain. I'm part of a group against the Order of the Guardians."

"The Order of the Guardians?" she asked warily. "But how aren't you a villain then?"

He leaned against the backrest, unbothered by the half-accusation. "We don't want to harm anyone; they do. Before the accident, they took kids in even if those kids didn't want it, and starved them as part of their training."

Ladybug bit her lower lip, already eerily familiar with that story. That's what Master Fu had gone through before Feast happened.

Hoodstrum, staring at her with a wealth of emotional intelligence, seemed to know that she understood that already. "They wiped themselves out because they didn't care about anything but their rules. The first one of us knew that and ran away with some of their miraculouses."

At that, her gaze dropped, scanning his body over to search for something she hadn't thought to before. On his wrist, she noted, was a bangle designed like an ouroboros. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"You're learning the notes fast," he complimented with a nod. He raised his arm out to her in a silent offer, adding, "The snake was one of the ones they got away with."

Though still hesitant, she couldn't detect anything suspicious in his posture. One step at a time, she slowly made her way towards the couch until she was within arm's length of him. Taking hold of his forearm and hand, she examined the supposed snake miraculous in question.

It was bizarre. In her limited experience with the miraculouses Master Fu had, it definitely looked like a miraculous: it was an accessory to wear and his bodysuit had remnants of what she might expect, but something wasn't quite right. While the design of the miraculouses was done who knows how long ago, Hoodstrum's appeared modern as if made recently, or perhaps refurbished.

Looking upon her thoughtful expression approvingly, he told her, "I don't know everything, but the miraculouses they stole got taken all over to other people; people who could make them better with the times." He glanced down at it. "Think of it like a record of an old song compared to the music we have now. It's always changing, and we're finding new ways to play and record it."

"So that's why you have other powers," Ladybug deduced, recalling the portal he had opened. She wanted to leave it there, but the nagging voice in the back of her head refused to let go of the scale-covered elephant in the room. "...But the tail? And fangs?"

He grinned, inadvertently showing off the fangs in question. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, steadying breath...

and started to detransform.

She yelped, recoiling from the bright light. Her calves bumped into the coffee table, but she remained standing and instinctively covered her eyes in thought of seeing someone's civilian identity.

She could hear Hoodstrum chuckle, but a different voice was the one who spoke up. "It's fine to look, Ladybug. My holder trusts you."

"N-nggh, but why?" she whined from behind her hands.

She got no answer, but the permission had made her too curious. She lowered her hands first, then opened one eye at a time until she could fully take him in. Rather than the half-human, half-snake she had seen earlier, Hoodstrum looked entirely normal, if a little bit punk. His black pants were torn at the knees, under his denim jacket was a thick midnight blue hoodie - the hood of which had been put down to reveal fluffy black hair with blue highlights - and his white shirt had rips as well as—

"Is that Jagged Stone?" she blurted out, staring at the logo across the chest of the shirt.

"Yeah," he admitted, "he's my favorite singer."

"Mine t—" She clammed up, remembering that she wasn't Marinette right now. Hoodstrum had such a calm, amicable tone when speaking that it felt like talking with a friend rather than a stranger. Was this somehow part of catching her off-guard?

The voice from earlier, as she soon discovered, belonged to a snake-looking kwami flying beside him. He chimed into the conversation, explaining, "Gaining our features are a side-effect of the modern miraculouses. They might be inconvenient for our holders, but it's the price they're willing to pay for our will."

"Will?" Ladybug repeated for clarification.

Hoodstrum raised his wrist again, showing the disguised form of the miraculous. "I can't transform if Sass doesn't want to."

Sass crossed his legs, his long tail curling around them. "The modern miraculouses keep us from being used without our consent, or if we think it might put our holder in danger. It gives us more power in the bond we share and our holders are happy to take the consequence of that."

It was a lot of information at once, but she tried to follow as best as she could. The idea that kwamis weren't slaves to whoever had their hands on their miraculouses sounded almost fantastical, making her think of poor Nooroo under Hawk Moth. "You didn't have to detransform to prove that though."

"I know," Hoodstrum said. He got up from the couch to stand in front of her, gesturing to himself. "But I want to earn your trust if I can, so you don't feel uncomfortable here."

"Here?" Ladybug took another look around, reminded of the situation that led them to this moment, and raised a finger. "Wait, yeah! Why am I here? Where is here? And I thought you kidnapped me!"

He shook his head. "I'll take you back whenever you want. This—" He outstretched an arm to the rest of the room. "—is for you, and anyone like you."

She brought a hand to her mouth, brows drawn together in thought. "I don't get it."

Sass flew up, lounging lazily on Hoodstrum's shoulder, and "pointed" at her with his paw. "You're exhausted. That much is obvious in everything we saw."

Her eyes widened. They noticed? Had it been that obvious to these two that didn't know her? "That...that's normal."

"It's not," Hoodstrum argued with a frown. "Whoever your guardian is, he chose a cat who loves the job. He could've done the same for your miraculous too."

Sass clicked his tongue in a way not unlike what Hoodstrum had done towards Chat. "That's typical of guardians: never ask, just choose."

Ladybug swallowed, wanting to defend Master Fu but unable to. It was true, she hadn't wanted to be Ladybug, and in fact had to when the holder she had intended to replace herself with got trapped behind a car. There were so many times that she thought about giving up or lamented how overwhelmed it made her feel, but she hadn't wanted to question a decision made by someone who seemed so much older and wiser than her.

"So you brought only me here because of that," she concluded, "but... to do what?"

Hoodstrum and Sass exchanged glances that were a mix between concerned and amused, as if the answer were obvious and it was worrying that she didn't understand.

Simultaneously, they looked at her and simply said, "To rest."

"R—" She would have staggered back if the coffee table wasn't in the way, so she opted to wave her arms about in disbelief. "Rest? What? That's it?"

Hoodstrum turned away, moving to walk around the room. Sass remained hovering where he'd been, observing Hoodstrum's movements alongside Ladybug.

"I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I was still learning how to use my miraculous." He knelt down to the TV stand, feeling around for dust. He only stood back up when he was satisfied it was clean. "This place hasn't been needed in so long too. Me and my family tried to update it to make you comfortable, but it took a while."

Sass cleared his throat, Ladybug turning to him as he added on, "You could call this a pocket dimension inside our world. Here, time moves at one-sixth the speed as it does outside. Luka is hoping to make it better than that one day."

Ladybug almost didn't register that Sass had just used Hoodstrum's civilian name, her mind whirling thinking about the massive time bomb that had just dropped on her. One-sixth of the time meant that one hour in Paris was six hours here, and one day was six days, yet Luka didn't think that was good enough? That was already so much!

Even the idea of it being a pocket dimension, she could tell it was the truth. When she listened closely, she couldn't hear a thing that she wasn't aware of in the room: no birds chirping, no cars driving by, and no people chatting idly. Only the sound of her own breathing and Luka's footsteps filled the space.

It was just the three of them - four if one counted her growing disbelief at this point - all by themselves.

Luka continued the mini tour of the space as if none of this was particularly amazing; to him, who had experience preparing all this in the first place, maybe it wasn't. He wandered into the kitchen next, opening one of the cupboards to reveal a whole variety of tiny snack bags in just about any color she could imagine.

"I don't know what kind of food you like," he began, opening the fridge with his other hand to show her the fruits, milk, and such, "so we got whatever we could. I can give the rest to my friends, so you don't have to eat all of it."

Ladybug couldn't say anything, at a complete loss for words. Not moving her eyes from Luka, she went around the coffee table to follow him into the kitchen. Tearing her eyes from him to look at the food - the food for her - was difficult, because she didn't understand even after having it all explained to her.

It wasn't him alone who'd done all this, as he'd openly said, but he'd taken on the primary role. He brought her here, blindly trusted her to the point of letting her know his civilian identity, and for what? So she could rest?

Why?

"That act you put on..." she started to say, because she was certain now that it was an act.

"I needed a way to talk to you without accidentally seeing your identity," he confirmed. Looking off to the side, not wholly innocently, he admitted, "And I meant what I said about value: maybe they'll learn to care about you if they think they could've lost you."

"They care," she claimed weakly; an instinctive defense of the people she worked hard to protect.

She felt a small breeze to her side, Sass flying past her and into the fridge. He pulled a single hard-boiled egg from inside, then shut the door with his tail and flew over next to Luka. Taking a big bite of the egg's top, he almost looked like someone with a giant egg-shaped glass of alcohol.

"Ladybug," he said with patience she suddenly felt she didn't deserve, "We've seen the Face-to-Face interview."

She cringed at the memory instantly, her cheeks growing pink from embarrassment. Of course she recalled that: the interview with Nadja Chamack where she and the audience seemed to care for nothing more than whether Ladybug and Chat Noir were dating. Any time she tried to change the subject or tell the truth, she would be ignored or shot down.

Even Chat himself brushed it off as the price of being a star. Maybe then, the people did care, but only so far as to whether she could save them and get together with who they wanted her to.

She just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

Luka, meanwhile, had been ready for it. He'd made himself their bad guy so that he could offer her this. Guilt tore at her stomach, telling her how much she didn't deserve this.

"I...I have school," she tried.

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Luka supplied easily.

"My parents will wonder where I am."

"You can tell them you're staying with a friend."

"If Hawk Moth attacks while I'm here..."

"We can still get alerts. You'll know."

They really planned it all out. They had an answer for all of her questions and, as she'd already calculated earlier, she'd have six whole days to do whatever she wished even if she stayed there just for one Sunday. It was as Luka said: this was for her.

"...What's the catch?"

Luka smiled sadly at her, at the idea that they would require some sort of payment. There's a three step distance between the two of them and he closes that gap by two, his hands taking hold of hers and squeezing them reassuringly. It hadn't even occurred to her that he hadn't touched her until now, beyond what it took to bring her here. He'd let her get closer to touch him, but it was only when he felt she needed it that he gave it to her.

"No catch. We just want you to enjoy yourself. I'll give you my number and you can call me on your yoyo whenever you want me to bring you here. If you want to quit being Ladybug, we'll help you do that too, but you can still come." He squeezed her hands once more. "I saw you, I wanted to help you, it's that simple. It's not a favor, it's a reward."

She looked up at him. She'd noticed, but hadn't really thought about the fact, that his eyes had been green as Hoodstrum. When he was Luka, they were instead a deep, soothing blue.

She liked the blue, even more than the green.

Staring down at the hands holding hers, Ladybug curled her fingers inwards to squeeze him back. Unable to make excuses to get out of relaxing any longer - a thought she knew should give her much to self-reflect on in her future - she gave in and wondered aloud, "Can we do stuff together too?"

Luka beamed, more than happy to do just that.

[mc-lukanette]

Luka loved Marinette. He loved her so much and still felt like he hadn't fully expressed it no matter how many years passed. It wasn't for lack of trying - words, songs, gestures, he'd done it all - but simply that there may've been no way to convey it under human limitations.

Thus, he accepted that he could only love her as much as he could. He courted her, dated her, and married her, all in the hopes that she might understand one day.

He even loved her in his dreams.

It wasn't as good as having the real deal, but he knew her body well enough that it almost felt real. When she'd push him down on the bed, he could imagine the plush surface and scent of the freshly washed sheets.

She'd lean down for a kiss, her flavored lip balm rubbing off on him. He'd long since foregone wearing it himself since they got together, knowing that it would always end up on his lips anyway.

Dream Marinette had the exact accurate amount of freckles going across her nose. He knew because he'd counted them before on days where they had nothing to do and he'd taken to watching her sleep the morning away. Stroking her face, her skin wasn't perfectly smooth either, having been neglected skincare on days where she was too busy to think about it.

He'd pull the dream Marinette down to kiss her nose, her forehead, her cheek, and anywhere else he could. Mutual kissing was his personal favorite, but it was just as important to him that every precious centimeter of her body receive attention from him.

She loved to be praised, to be told that she mattered and that she was doing great where she was. He'd say as much in-between the soft gasps in reaction to her breath against his skin or her fingers playing with his hair. During warmer nights where she'd wear shorts instead of pants, her leg had a chance of nudging his shirt up just enough during their movements that he could feel her skin against his side.

She was the one who made his pajama tops for him in the first place, actually. He found that it all depended on her mood, as sometimes she would gift him shirts with pointless buttons, shirts with strings, or shirts with cuts low enough that she could kiss his chest.

Always with purpose, of course, whether that be to play idly with the little additions or tease him. He'd watch, mesmerized by the movements even if they didn't appear like anything special; she was special to him.

She designed her own pajamas as well and liked the buttons the most. It let him technically remove it even if she was laying on the bed, but was a task that took time. She loved the attention and he loved giving her that attention, so he would hold off for the perfect moment.

When it came time to play his own part in their duet, they would switch spots, Marinette letting out an excited squeal as he flipped them over. Her hair was just long enough that it could get trapped underneath her back, creating potential problems if she turned or tilted her head. Just in case, he took the extra time to check, gently tugging the hair out and letting it spread out gorgeously over the bed.

She'd exhale against his hair when he kissed her collarbone, nails grazing his back as she grasped his shirt in her hands. When her pulse quickened, he'd nestle his face against her neck, feeling and estimating the BPM of her pulse so long as he could distinguish it from his own.

He was a simple man. He too loved to be praised and told that he mattered, but his favorite sound was her name rolling off his tongue. She knew it too, her blue eyes in that blissful contradiction of innocence and mischievousness as she called his name, over and over.

It was as if she was beckoning him closer, reminding him with her tone that he was hers, or merely liking how it sounded out of her mouth. He loved it all the same.

Depending on how much skin she was showing that night, he could see the little marks she'd accumulated over the course of her life: a scar on her shoulder from when she was a child, another near her ribcage, and multiple similar-looking ones at her hip that she promised to tell him about one day when she stopped being embarrassed by the memory.

He was fine with that. In his mind, it was just another thing to look forward to learning about his wife.

Sometimes, the marks would be something more temporary, like a slight redness to her leg when she bumped it against the table that morning, which he would be careful not to accidentally irritate. It gave him the perfect excuse to treat her just a little differently than usual, keeping her guessing as to what he might do next.

She had a particular noise she made whenever he slipped his hand under her shirt. If his hand was colder that night, it'd be a shuddery whine, but if it was warmer, then she'd let out a pleased hum. He always made sure to touch the scar at her ribcage, cherishing it even if he couldn't see it at the time.

When her grip on his shirt tightened, he knew what to prepare for and moved back appropriately as she pulled it off of him. It was a bittersweet feeling, seeing her so carelessly toss her work that he loved so much to the side, yet knowing that it meant she could freely touch more of his skin. Whether he had a "conventionally perfect male body" or not, her fingertips traced over the lines of it in such a way that he felt like, in her eyes, he did.

They caressed the other's body, they kissed, they hugged and cuddled each other. Before long, neither were below or atop the other anymore, or at the very least it was hard to keep track.

And then, not long after that, he'd wake up, the sun from the window shining against his back. Marinette would consistently be in his arms, face buried in his chest whether he had a shirt on or not, using him as her shield against the unfairly early morning.

"I had a dream about us," he'd say if she was awake, eager to spill the details.

Every time, she'd playfully admonish him, giggling and hitting his chest. "We're married! You see me every day!"

He'd chuckle, squeezing her tighter and telling her, almost like a promise, "Not enough."

Thus, the cycle would continue. Perhaps it did seem silly to others that he would seek to please her in the realm of his own dreams, but it was all he had left that he felt he could do.

He was thankful that her time as Ladybug had long since passed, and long enough to where she didn't tense up when she got an alert on her phone. The normal girl with the normal life who actually was anything but that, was now an extraordinary woman with a (relatively) normal life.

However, that didn't give her back the time she'd lost saving Paris, nor time she felt had been wasted that they could've spent together. He'd told her repeatedly that he didn't blame her and that all that mattered to him was the time she chose to spend with him now, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wish that he could allow her that time back.

Despite that, he could still dream and tell her about it. He could practice pampering her in his mind to then follow up on in reality, trying to make up for the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years that they could've had. He just needed her to know that, whether awake or asleep, he thought of her, and not even the time they "lost" would give him enough to express that.

But he could try.

[mc-lukanette]

"I sent you a twenty-page document on Jagged's requests. You can't tell me you didn't get it," Penny told the person on the phone. Putting her free hand over the lower half of it to keep them from hearing her, she glanced over her shoulder at Marinette on the couch and said, "I'm sorry. We'll talk about designs as soon as I'm done."

Marinette waved away the concern, understanding the struggle of changed plans. She'd already gathered enough information based on the call they'd had inviting her to their hotel room that she could stay occupied by doing some experimental sketches anyway.

However, realizing how much she may have underestimated the time she was going to spend there, she set her sketchpad aside and pulled out her phone. Navigating to her text conversation with Luka, she typed out a couple messages to update him on what was going on.

Got stuck here a little longer. Penny seems swamped. We could do this any other time, so I'm surprised she didn't send me home yet.

She got a reply less than a minute later.

I'm not. Everyone loves you and wants your talent, Marinette. They're probably making sure no one else can steal you away.

She shook her head in disbelief at such a bold statement, but smiled. Luka was never afraid to say exactly what was on his mind and, while she didn't agree with him, it did make her happy.

She was about to message him back when she caught movement out of the corner of her vision. She looked past her phone to check, nearly screaming when she saw Jagged's face mere inches away from her.

"W-what?!" she asked, stiff. "What's wrong? Did I zone out?!"

"You were smiling," he stated.

"I'm sorry! I'll stop smiling!"

He snorted, then plopped down next to her on the couch, resting both arms along the backrest. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with smiling! A rock star's smile is one of their best assets!" He smirked for emphasis. "But you looked like you were texting your boyfriend."

"H-huh?"

He tilted his head. "Girlfriend?"

"No! I was texting Luka!"

"So his name's Luka!" Jagged brightened, leaning in with interest. "What's he into besides you?"

"Besides—" Marinette choked. "No, h-he's a musician? He plays guitar!"

"Guitar!" he exclaimed, and which was clearly the only word he'd heard. He jumped to his feet, strolling over to Penny and wrapping an arm around her. "Hear that? Our frockstar's got herself a rock star boyfriend!"

Penny ignored him briefly to talk into the phone, "If you can't take the requests, you can always find a different number one music star to book your venue," then covered the lower half again to address Marinette. "Congratulations."

"But—!"

"I told you," Jagged boasted, though to no one in particular, "our designer deserves the best and has the best taste!"

—————

Luka was on his way home when he heard a familiar sound of pounding footsteps behind him. Stopping in place, he turned to look at the source, bracing himself as Marinette practically plowed into him.

It would've been delightful had she not looked so distressed.

"Luka, I'm so sorry!" she burst, gripping his sleeves. "I swear I'll make it up to you!"

"Easy, Marinette," he soothed, taking her wrists and gently pulling her hands away. "What happened?"

"Nggh." She pouted, then hung her head in shame and replied, "Jagged Stone thinks we're dating."

That—

...huh.

He kept on a poker face, not wanting to freak her out further with his potential reaction. Something must've happened to make Jagged think that they were dating, and while he recalled sending Marinette an affectionate text earlier, that alone shouldn't have been enough to make any assumptions.

Did that mean that it was something Marinette did? And it had been convincing evidence for someone to think they were dating? Granted, Jagged Stone wasn't known for being a perceptive guy and Luka was content with the friendship he had with her. He hadn't confessed for that very reason, but—

Oh, she was still talking.

"Sorry," he interrupted, having caught none of it, "what were you saying?"

She rubbed an arm, embarrassed, her hand slipping under her sleeve to rub at her shoulder. "I...I was asking if we could pretend to date? He seemed so happy for me and I didn't want to disappoint him and neither of us are dating anyone—but if you're uncomfortable or you already like someone then I'll think of something else!"

Huh.

On one hand, it was charming in a way how much she wanted to please everyone, if a bit concerning, but he didn't miss the amusement of her talking about him "already liking someone" when she was the one he liked. Perhaps ironically, he might've even agreed to the proposa—suggestion if it hadn't been for that fact. He simply didn't have it in him to date her if it wasn't real.

"...I can't," he admitted reluctantly, as tempting as it might've been to say otherwise. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he frowned and explained, "It's not your fault, Marinette, and I'm not uncomfortable. I just couldn't fake date you."

She pursed her lips, disappointed but not upset with him. He looked away, feeling bad anyway but not so much to where it'd change his stance; it wouldn't be right. He would, however, be willing to help break the news to Jagged to make it a little easier for her, especially if his text was at all responsible for what happened.

The silence started to drag on. Luka debated on breaking it by asking her if she wanted to go somewhere or do something, but hesitated when he considered that it might seem insensitive after having just rejected her.

"Ah, then—!" Marinette, surprisingly, spoke up first, stepping forward and clutching Luka's forearms to get his attention back. "Then we'll real date! That's okay, right?"

His mouth fell open without a sound.

"I'm okay with it, and I'll take really good care of you! I've already been all over Paris, so I know all the best date spots, and I could always ask my parents where they like to go if we run out of ideas! So..."

She trailed off, the situation slowly dawning on the both of them. Luka's mind was still stuck somewhere at "I'm okay with it" and was making unsteady progress to get past it. The thought that the whole fake dating may have been a substitute for what she felt was the most she could get out of their relationship was something that'd have to come later.

Marinette's fingers twitched against his skin, then pulled away as her face flushed red. She couldn't look at him anymore, but her eyes were unable to decide on anything interesting enough to focus on. One foot shifted against the ground, and he realized what it meant before anything actually happened.

"Wait."

He reached out to grab her wrist, but it was too late. Marinette turned and bolted, leading into a full-on chase as he ran after her. If he'd had his bike then he could've caught up to her easily, but as things were, he was just barely keeping pace with her.

The problem was that he wasn't really a runner, and he knew without having seen it himself that Marinette had all sorts of experiences getting away from awkward situations or going somewhere in a hurry. Out of all the people he'd ever met that he could've fallen in love with...

She sped down the sidewalk, nearly bumping into someone on the way, then turned a corner. Luka followed, smoothly slipping past the same someone, but his eyes never left his destination. As he took the same bend that Marinette did, he caught sight of her just as she ducked between two buildings.

He hurried to go after her, only to find when he reached the alley that she'd seemingly disappeared. He looked left, right, then around the sidewalk he'd stood on in case his eyes had played a trick on him, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

A noise from somewhere up on the rooftops caught his attention. He stepped back as far as he could without tripping onto the road, eyes scanning the sky just in time to catch Ladybug throwing her yoyo out and swinging off into the distance.

Face slightly flushed, not entirely from the exertion, Luka snorted and put a hand to his mouth, his other hand feeling the phone in his pocket. He resolved to talk to her later when they both had cooled off, but it didn't stop the song that desperately wanted to be sung playing up a storm in his chest.

That's cheating, Marinette, he thought affectionately.

[mc-lukanette]

"I'm sorry," Marinette mumbled, her grip on his shoulders tensing.

Luka shook his head, trying to reassure her, "It's not your fault. We don't have to kiss if you're not ready."

"But I am! It's just..." She sighed.

Ever since they'd started dating, there had been problems with kissing each other. He understood that they both wanted it even if Marinette had some struggles with it, and he was more than willing to be patient about it. He was just worried.

Marinette opened her mouth, then grit her teeth, hesitating over something. Still unwilling to move from his lap that she'd climbed onto to kiss him in the first place, she let go of his shoulders and clenched her fists atop them so she wasn't squeezing him.

"You don't have to tell me," he told her.

"I want to." She averted her gaze, blushing in shame as she pointed out, "And you already know most of it. Everyone does."

"Most of... ah."

He suspected for a while, but didn't want to assume. Paris was utterly obsessed with Ladybug and whatever she did, so they made a big deal over everything, especially when it concerned romance.

"All the kisses I've ever had or tried to have ended up a disaster," she muttered, running her fingers along the seam of his hoodie. "It's always because of a misunderstanding, or getting interrupted, or something I can't even remember, or being really embarrassing."

He couldn't see exactly what was going on in her head, but her face said it all. She just wanted to enjoy herself kissing him, but she was traumatized on some level and it held her back from doing so.

Hoping to help her work through it, he asked, "What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know?" She pouted. "It'll go wrong, or an akuma's going to happen, or you won't like it..."

"I don't have any expectations." He rubbed her sides in slow, easy circles. "I just want to kiss my girlfriend. It doesn't have to be perfect. We can always try again if something happens."

She scratched her cheek shyly, then let out a heavy sigh and fell to the side. Rolling to lie on her back, her legs still rested on Luka's lap as she lamented, "I'm sorry—again. It feels like I'm always behind everyone else."

There was nothing wrong with that, and he would've told her as much if he wasn't certain that she didn't want to hear it. If he thought it would've helped, he would've pointed out how unfair it was for her to expect herself to keep up with other people who didn't have to constantly worry about being woken up in the middle of the night because of the dumbest reasons imaginable, all whilst being expected to smile and be a hero without negative emotions.

But it wouldn't help, and he supposed it was time for him to be honest as well.

"You're not the only one," he began, running a hand slowly across one of her legs, "who feels behind."

"Huh?" She pushed herself up just enough with her elbows to comfortably look at him. "You—wait, you?"

He nodded. "Jule started dating before I did. I know she met Rose before I met you, but she never thought about our dad the way I did."

Frowning, Marinette sat up, bringing her legs off Luka's lap and closer to herself. She leaned forward, gripping his arm and asking, "You mean... how he wasn't around?"

"How him and Mom got far enough to have me and Jule, but still ended up leaving each other." He looked at her, eyes flicking up and down her body. "Some people are fine playing solos, but if I play a duet, I want to keep it going. I don't want to push my partner too hard or scare them off."

He still recalled the day they'd met, where he'd upset her and genuinely worried that he'd ruined a chance at a good relationship. He hadn't foreseen falling quite so hard afterwards, but still, he'd been fearful of everything crumbling over a bad first impression.

Thankfully, it worked out in the end, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Luka," she uttered softly, the hand gripping his arm sliding around so she could hug it instead. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You're not going to scare me off."

He returned the lean, letting out a breath that may've been a little relieved. "And I'm not going to get upset because you need time to move past all the horrible memories you have."

She gave his arm a squeeze in wordless thanks. He adored the overthinking, rambling, and energetic Marinette just as much as all the other Marinette, but there was something special to him about the moments of calm that only he seemed able to provide. Maybe it was selfish in a way, but it made him happy seeing that he had something of value to offer her.

Marinette's fingers loosened against his arm. She was briefly lost in thought, staring off at nothing as she wondered aloud, "Does everything you said mean you think I'm the one?"

He briefly stiffened. It made sense that she would deduce that much, but he hoped it wouldn't make her uncomfortable. "...Yeah."

Rather than pulling away from him, she squished herself closer to him, one hand still holding his arm while the other rested on his thigh. "Good. I want a spring wedding."

His head swerved to look at her, stunned. She'd thought that far ahead? When?!

"You like wearing too many layers for summer, but too many rips for fall or winter." She toyed idly with the rips on his shirt. "I know having the rips sounds weird for a groom's outfit, but I was thinking that I could do something wi—!"

Her last word turned into a squeal as he freed the arm she'd been hugging so he could pull her back up onto his lap. He hugged her tight, burying his face in her shoulder and sighing happily. When Marinette (eventually) regained her bearings, she giggled and lovingly stroked his hair.

They could wait until the wedding for their first kiss for all he cared. All that mattered then was being able to simply have each other.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette held the butterfly miraculous up towards the ceiling, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully. It was amazing, really, how harmless it looked, yet it'd been so disastrous in the wrong hands. She felt lucky that she got it back before anything seriously bad happened, like Hawk Moth - Gabriel Agreste - finding Master Fu and getting his hands on the Miracle Box.

Nooroo hovered nearby, saying for what must've been the tenth time now, "Thank you so much for saving me, Ladybug, really."

"You can just call me Marinette," she assured, as being called by her hero name was too formal for her tastes. Too used to having a kwami of her own around, she unconsciously pet his head, though he at least didn't seem to mind. "Besides, you shouldn't have been held captive in the first place. You deserved to be free."

She'd already decided to hold onto him for a while to let him heal. Even being as ancient as he was, it couldn't have been pleasant dealing with the situation he'd been forced into.

She frowned, bringing the miraculous back down to chest level and thinking over the situation. Under Gabriel Agreste's ascot the whole time was the butterfly miraculous, and inside that was the woman who led up to all of—

"...Huh?"

Nooroo flew closer, peering over her shoulder. "What is it, La—Marinette?"

She blinked. She remembered the moment she tore the miraculous from Hawk Moth, the way it flew across the room as the man detransformed in front of her. She'd hurried to retrieve it before even seeing who he was and caught the image of Adrien's mother inside, the miraculous having popped open during the fall.

However, in her possession, the picture of Emilie was gone and in its place was Luka Couffaine. It was a simple shot of him looking delicately at the "camera," his eyelids relaxed and a soft smile on his face.

"It changed..." she muttered.

"Yes," Nooroo replied casually. "He feels like a sweet boy. I'm glad you have someone like that. Not all heroes do."

She raised a brow at him, puzzled, and not just from the comment about Luka "feeling" like a sweet boy; it must've made sense to kwami, or maybe just Nooroo specifically.

"Oh." He went over to float next to the miraculous, placing a hand next to the image. "I'm the kwami of emotion, and my miraculous reflects that. The person inside changes based on what's in the holder's heart."

"But..." She hesitated, lips pressed into a tight line as she considered the information. "What about Adrien?"

Nooroo placed a paw to his chin, thoughtful. "Yes, he could have been in my mas—" He tensed. "—ah, in Gabriel Agreste's miraculous."

She wanted to correct him - to say that it wasn't what she'd meant - but the answer he'd given did go down a similar path to what she'd been wondering. "What do you mean?"

"Some of my holders had their lovers inside, some had their best friends, and other had their child or children." His eyes grew briefly distant in his reminiscing. "Even when they already had lovers, there were holders who had their best friend here instead."

That... well, it was interesting, but it didn't explain what she was experiencing. Adrien had been the crush everyone had (unfortunately) known her for, and Alya was always someone she considered her best friend, so what did that make Luka? If she was honest with herself, she never got to think about it; whenever she'd tried to, there were interruptions or other matters to tend to.

Nooroo stared at the mix of emotions on her face, eyes too intelligent for someone so small and cute. Offering her a comforting smile, he reminded her, "You have time to think about it now if you wish to. That's what many holders do after everything's over, even if I can't be there for it."

The statement was so obvious, yet it'd never occurred to her before. She'd been so deep into the monotony of being Ladybug, of chasing Adrien, of making time for everyone and everything she wanted to do, that it didn't feel real for it to be over. He was right though: there were still loose ends to tie up, but she finally had time for herself and for her own thoughts.

She felt... reassured.

—————

One of said loose ends to deal with after the two lost miraculouses were retrieved was Master Fu and Marianne. Now that Gabriel was in prison where he belonged, they were free to be together as much as they wished.

Part of that wish was to travel the world in order to do all of the things they'd once planned to long ago. The Miracle Box would go with him as well as Duusu, who was getting her own well-deserved vacation after having her miraculous broken for so long. Beyond the butterfly, Marinette kept the ladybug miraculous with her in case of emergencies, promising to call if Marianne needed to don the horse and bring her a miraculous or two.

It was bittersweet, heartwarming but confusing. She'd seen them together only for a moment before, but they really did make a charming couple. Despite years apart, they touched each other like it was instinctive and were like a pair straight out of a wedding, ready to jump into their honeymoon phase.

She wanted that. She had wanted that for a long time, ever since she was a child. Someone to grow old with, to share secrets with, and to be comfortable around.

It was uncomfortable realizing that she didn't have anything close to that with Adrien. She'd worked towards something like it, and where had it gotten her? She'd almost managed it and got humiliated in front of her friends.

It hurt worse to see Master Fu and Marianne so thankful to her, when she felt like she was the cause of them being apart for even longer. No matter how many assurances she had that it was an accident, it didn't change what happened. Emotions she hadn't felt before began to bubble to the surface; ones that she either hadn't focused on or simply hadn't had time to feel.

Sure, she would meet up with them again someday, but she wondered if it could've been different. Even seeing them off, it was difficult to say what her relationship with Master Fu even was. He lured her into running in front of a car to save him, but simultaneously cared for her well-being and trusted her abilities. He mentored her and the plan had originally been to make her the next guardian, but it wasn't like she'd really wanted it, or to be Ladybug in the first place.

She hadn't asked for any of this.

As for Marianne, Marinette barely knew her at all. Had the letters not been mixed up, they might've gotten to know each other better. Maybe she would've had a positive female role model in her life, or she could've come to see her like a grandmother figure, someone who stuck around more than her actual one.

She should be thankful, she told herself. Ladybug gave her the strength to stand up to her bully, and she was such a screw-up that it was a miracle she hadn't made things worse for them. It wasn't fair for her to be lonely, jealous, or resentful of them.

"Negative emotions don't have to be ugly," Nooroo whispered from her bag when he caught her wringing her hands together. He touched her with a paw, trying to soothe her. "It's how you work through them that matters."

All in all, she felt... conflicted.

—————

Marinette's friends were the first to learn of her identity, almost as soon she'd been given the okay to do so.

It wasn't all of them, of course, but figuring out which ones she could tell had ended up being more difficult than she'd thought. Her secret had been kept safe for so long and it was precious to her, so even if she was largely out of the weeds of risk, she didn't want it getting out into the public.

Thus came the natural conclusion that she could only tell people she truly trusted, and it would be pointless to tell those who she barely ever hung out with. The latter alone left out most of the boys in her class barring Ivan, who she'd interacted with plenty during the two weeks of preparation for their Kitty Section video.

While Nooroo munched away peacefully on some snacks, she had to resort to writing down all the people she considered "friends," a list that ended up surprisingly long. The Marinette of the past swelled with pride at the sight but, upon closer inspection, there were only a handful she could say she'd genuinely bonded with.

It was then that she realized she didn't really know what having a friend meant. Her parents had always encouraged her to talk to people, make friends, and had been the ones who gave her the box of macarons on her first day of the new year.

A bribe, essentially, or a conversation starter if she was being generous; reel people in with the prospect of sweets and then try to make some sort of connection with them. It never really worked, and the basis for most of the friendships she had nowadays came down to them being nice to or doing something for each other.

Reluctantly, she'd had to scratch most names out and write them on a more proper list, like acquaintances. She was also just as reluctant, if not more so, to recognize that she couldn't come up with a valid reason to tell friends like Alix, Rose, or Alya about her identity.

Alix was for reasons unrelated to Alix herself, as Marinette associated Alix knowing her identity with Bunnyx and therefore the traumatic events of Chat Blanc. Rose, meanwhile, was too likely to let the secret slip by accident.

Alya though, had already spilled a secret of hers before: she'd told Nino about her crush on Adrien, then tried to lie about it. How could she have counted on her to keep her big secret if she couldn't keep the (relatively) smaller one? They spent the most time together, certainly, and Marinette didn't dislike her, but could she say that Alya was her "best friend" if she couldn't keep her secrets safe?

Not really.

In the end, she'd picked four people: Juleka, Ivan, Mylene, and Luka. Juleka was too quiet to care about telling people, Ivan would be fine so long as he could talk to Mylene about it, and Luka was—well, Luka, the most mature out of all her friends to the point where people went to him for advice.

When she pointed out what she felt was a pathetic number to Nooroo, he replied, "It's good not to spread yourself too thin. Even my most caring holders only had so much love and trust to give before they exhausted themselves."

The word resonated with her. She felt... exhausted.

—————

It was, perhaps, inevitable that Chat Noir would want reveal their identities to each other. He'd wanted to since the very beginning and there was little danger to worry about anymore.

Hesitantly, she agreed, but hadn't been mentally or emotionally prepared to see Adrien Agreste standing in Chat Noir's place. He was equally surprised to see her own identity, but she couldn't make out his excitement about them already knowing each other or the actual words he was saying with everything going on in her head.

She put her arms behind her back, allowing her to pinch herself without being seen. She could see the appeal of it, in a way: she'd been crushing on Adrien and Chat had been crushing on Ladybug, so it sounded perfect on the surface that revealing their identities would "solve" things.

Yet, to Marinette, it sounded like a sick joke, like a prank Chloe would've set up so she could laugh while watching Marinette spin in circles over it. Her life had been complicated enough without throwing in something straight out of a cheap drama that tried to keep the characters apart for as long as possible. After all of that embarrassment she'd been through, she'd apparently been "loved" by him all along?

Except she wasn't interested in Chat. Technically, she wasn't even interested in Adrien either until he gave her that umbrella. Was Adrien the "real" Adrien, or was it Chat Noir? Was it half-and-half? If so, what did it say if she wasn't crushing on both of them?

She could still recall that rainy afternoon after having finally stood up for Chloe after multiple years. It was so picturesque, with the sound of thunder punctuating the emotion as Adrien offered her his umbrella. It was the first act of kindness any boy had really—

Oh God, did she really fall for the first boy to show any semblance of kindness to her as Marinette? Had she been that desperate for someone to cherish? How could she go back in time and offer the Marinette who felt like she had nothing a hug?

She tried to focus on what Chat—Adrien was saying, and to respond with her own questions in kind. Why did he notice Ladybug and not Marinette? Why did he tell her that he had no friends when he'd known Chloe as a friend for years? Why...

just why?

But it all came out scrambled, too many thoughts stumbling about to form into anything coherent. Her brain ached at the onslaught of everything she wanted to say and everything she wished so badly to forget about while struggling with the knowledge that Adrien lost his dad and she should be gentle with him.

"It's okay to take a step back," Nooroo had told her sometime before, "You don't owe anyone your time if you're not ready to talk yourself."

Had he known or suspected something like this might happen? Regardless, she took the advice and left for home.

The revelations had left her feeling... disappointed.

—————

Marinette ate meals at home without needing to rush, she finished projects that she'd had to drop due to having no time before, and she slept soundly with the knowledge that an akuma wouldn't appear in the middle of the night to disturb her.

Refreshing was an understatement: it was healing. The ache in her feet and the pain in her spine that no fourteen-year-old should have to deal with disappeared, and she hadn't even noticed how much it had hurt until they were gone.

She could finally make time for herself, going off to an art museum for inspiration or taking a stop to eat just because. She shared food with Nooroo when no one was looking and pretended to be on the phone with someone when she wanted to talk to him. The small things she'd taken for granted before becoming Ladybug felt like a luxury now: like a princess spoiling herself, not with a shopping spree or servants but a hot cup of tea and a midday nap.

When she could enjoy the act of doing nothing in particular, she found herself pulling out the butterfly miraculous to look at. Luka's face continued to stare back at her, the same gentle gaze as always.

While Adrien had been at the forefront of her romantic pursuits, she couldn't dismiss Luka's presence either. Her heart skipped a beat when their eyes first met, they bonded over a mutual appreciation for Jagged Stone, and he gave her what both her and Tikki agreed was a tender and very real love confession.

At the same time, Luka was her friend. Alya had teased her a couple times over being attracted to him, but then wasn't happy with her letting Adrien go date Kagami. She didn't really get it and, as she reminded herself again, there always seemed to be something in the way when she tried to make sense of it.

People rarely batted an eye or said anything when she called Luka a friend, like they didn't even take the idea of him being anything more seriously. Calling Adrien a friend, on the other hand, earned her snickers and sarcastic comments.

It was ridiculous, wasn't it? Either they mocked the idea because she'd made so little progress that they weren't even friends at all (which she wouldn't have disagreed with), it was such an unimportant step on the road to being a couple that it was laughable, or she couldn't see him as a friend so long as she was crushing on him, which was—

Marinette's eyelids flew wide open. She sat up in her seat, taking her first gasp post-epiphany.

"Nooroo, I'm so stupid!"

He blinked at her, gently admonishing, "You're not stupid, Marinette, and you shouldn't say things like that about yourself. If you feel like you have to, try something softer, like silly."

"Then I'm REALLY silly!"

—————

The weather as Marinette waited near the Liberty was only average. Clouds filled the sky, not storm clouds but ones that covered the sun enough to where it felt later than it really was. It wasn't exactly the making a grand statement kind of atmosphere, but the weather had never worked how she'd wanted it to anyway, apparently.

There was no one home, so she lingered around, reclined on the stairs going back up to the city, and idled on her phone. She'd shown up wholly unannounced in her haste to get there, so she was fine being left to her thoughts for a while.

It could've been anywhere from five to thirty minutes before she heard a familiar, "Marinette?"

She looked up. Luka was standing there with his bike, understandably surprised to see her.

"You should've called me to tell me you were coming. I could've been here sooner."

She giggled when he pulled out his phone, just to make sure she didn't text him while he was doing his job and failed to notice. "It's okay. I didn't want you to rush."

"We love having you here," he added with a frown, putting his bike aside so he could make the awkward leap onto the Liberty. Setting up the gangplank for her, he added, "You can invite yourself in any time."

"It felt too empty when there wasn't anyone here." She shrugged, stepping up the little walkway to go across. At the Liberty's side, she sat down on the steps and looked up at him expectantly. "And I came to talk to you?"

It came out like a question because she had considered that he could've have prior plans or some such but, because it was Luka, he smiled and sat down next to her.

He didn't even go back to get his bike.

"Okay." He undid the straps to his helmet and put it aside. "What did you want to talk about?"

It was oddly casual, all things considered. The others that she'd told her secret still were a bit star-struck after she told them that she was Ladybug. It wasn't at all a bad thing - Nooroo encouraged the boost to her ego it gave her - but it was also nice to have someone who didn't care: who just saw Marinette.

Her eyes flicked up to the top of his head. The signature strand of hair there had been pressed down by the helmet he'd had on from his job, and she unconsciously reached out to fix it. His face remained carefully neutral and he was entirely still for all of it.

It only registered with her what she'd done when she pulled back to check her "work." Blushing faintly, she dropped her focus to the brooch clipped to her jacket.

"Do you remember when I told you I was Ladybug—I mean, of course you do—but..." She fidgeted with the brooch, then gently pulled it off. "...how I was keeping the butterfly miraculous for a while?"

He nodded. "Its kwami must've been through a lot. Are they feeling any better?"

"A little." She smiled, impressed and touched that he'd thought about some kwami he hadn't even met. "But I was surprised. There was a picture inside, and it changed when it became my miraculous."

She took a deep breath before handing it over; Nooroo had told her to imagine her own nerves as if they were beings that needed oxygen in the same way she did, and they could only breathe if she did as well. The thoughts raced through her mind from "What if he thinks it's weird?" to "You mean weirder than anything else you've ever done? Please."

Luka turned the brooch over in his hands, Marinette suppressing a giggle as she noted that it wasn't unlike what she'd done when she first got it. Nevertheless, he eventually popped it open, staring at the image of himself inside.

She kept speaking before he could ask any questions, the words rushing forth from her throat, "I didn't get it. I didn't even know it did that. Nooroo - he's the kwami - told me that it could mean anything. Other holders had friends or crushes in theirs, but all I knew for sure was that..." She swallowed, watching his expression carefully. "...you’re important to me."

His head jerked to the side to look at her, mouth dropping open like he might say something, but nothing came out. In the background, she could still see the sky, overcast and gray, but Luka's eyes were blue and appeared even brighter than usual.

"Y—" He exhaled, almost chuckling, but not in any mean way. He was charmed. "You're important to me too, Marinette."

Her heart fluttered pleasantly and she sat a bit straighter from how light she felt. In a way, she already knew that - he'd confessed to her, after all - but it was so soothing to hear it out loud. She threw her arms out, gesticulating left and right as she added, "But I felt like I couldn't just come here and tell you that. I wanted to be sure, instead of saying, hey, Luka, my vaguely important something-or-other!"

That got him chuckling for real. Whatever he expected her to say next, it didn't seem to be what she was going to say. Being "important" to her really seemed to be enough to make him happy all on its own.

She hadn't thought about it before, but all those loose ends had been leading up to this. The kind of romance she hoped to have for herself, the people she could trust, the phrase "just a friend" thrown around almost like an insult.

Luka.

She turned her body towards him, her knee bumping lightly against his. Extending an arm towards him, she gently held the hand that he wasn't holding the brooch with. He quieted, noting the change in atmosphere.

"I'm comfortable around you. I trust you," she told him. "Those two weeks together were probably the most me I've ever been."

He squeezed her hand.

"You're such a great friend—" She hurriedly waved her free hand about. "—and I don't mean it that way, but you are! So I thought it meant we shouldn't be not friends because you wouldn't be that great friend anymore!"

It was a little disjointed, but the underlying message was there. Her experience (or lack thereof) had told her that there was being friends and being together with no in-between and no overlap. When it came to a romantic relationship, friendship was a pathway and nothing more. Following that logic and what she'd interpreted from Nooroo's teaching, she thought that meant that Luka had to be her friend or her crush.

"But... I want it to be both," Marinette concluded. She held onto his other hand too, their thumbs touching just above the picture in the brooch. "I want to be friends with you, Luka, and I want you too. I—" She averted her gaze, voice almost inaudible as she added, "I want to kiss you."

It was perhaps - no, definitely - a bold declaration, but she'd been holding it in ever since she left the house. It was so obvious when it clicked, like the solution to a Lucky Charm finally coming together.

Only this was her life, not the distant life of her superhero self, and the only thing she was fighting was time; time that she wasn't going to waste now that she had it back.

"...Marinette," Luka finally spoke.

Oh. She shuddered, catching onto the heightened emotion in his voice. Not turning her head, she peeked up at him hopefully.

He'd closed his eyes and leaned towards her just slightly, but otherwise didn't move from his spot. In other words, he was opening himself up to be kissed. She nearly uttered a "wow," but it couldn't make it past her lips.

She couldn't believe it was really happening. Was it really so easy, or did it being easy make it all the more real? In a life where everything had been so complicated - making friends, being Ladybug, coming up with grand plans for anything and everything - wasn't it perfect for the love she'd longed for to be so simple by contrast?

Luka loved her. She loved him. That was it, and she just had to embrace the chance.

She slowly took her hands off of his. Then, remembering the thing that got her there, she took the brooch out of his hand. Holding his jacket in place, she clipped the brooch onto it, smiling to herself over the little visual metaphor for their shared feelings.

Luka's eyes stayed closed, but his twitching smile told her he understood.

The miraculous had been kept open, so she saw it change in real time. Light that didn't exist reflected off of the surface, turning it so white that she couldn't see Luka's image anymore. When it faded away, she was the one pictured there, her teeth showing in a beaming grin and eyes glowing in the same way the rest of her face was.

Hands free, she looked up affectionately at who she felt she could properly consider her boyfriend. She cupped his face, her thumbs caressing the tiny lines caused by the straps of the helmet he'd had on. She would've even been happy to continue doing just that, fascinated by the intimate bubble they'd created for themselves.

Still, she eased herself towards him, pulling him in. She tilted her head to the side and encouraged his to tilt to the other, which he followed along to without a word.

She kissed him, and felt Luka's previously stationary body move with purpose. He kissed her back as his hands went from his lap to her sides, holding her tenderly. The sensation was strong enough that it made her squeak, a sound that made Luka let go in alarm.

She took a hand off his cheek to grip his sleeve tight and keep him in place, assuring him that he was doing fine; fantastic, actually. He took the message exactly as intended, sliding himself closer so he could fully wrap his arms around her.

At some point, she climbed onto his lap, or maybe he lifted her there. It didn't really matter. They were kissing, and her whole world made sense at that very moment.

She felt loved, and was finally able to give it right back.