A/N: This is my newest Lucaya oneshot. This, like anything I'll be posting now and in the near future was written pre-season 3 so nothing in the past few episodes is taken into account when it comes to my fics (unless otherwise noted, I suppose, if I were to write and post something Season 3 related, but, I digress, this is not one of those occasions so why should it matter? I don't know, I'm rambling). This means the art teacher mentioned here, is not referencing the one featured in the show, although said teacher is only mentioned in like one sentence, so it doesn't matter all that much as it is. I say it's rated a Hard T, for a few curse words and a little steaminess. Anyway, enjoy! R&R! Thanks! ~Mac
Disclaimer: I don't own GMW.
How Rumors Get Started
There were times like this one when Maya wondered how they were the thing everyone was talking about. Then it occurred to her that these times were probably exactly the reason why they were.
…
Maya was working on a project in the art room after school that day. Her high school art teacher liked her even better than her middle school one, which was barely possible, and let her stick around while she waited for her friends to finish with their extracurricular activities for the afternoon. Riley was still with the cheerleaders, still basically an alternate, and still just as enthusiastic about the opportunity. Farkle was a member of literally—and, yes, they had checked—every relevant academic club or team offered, so he was always meeting with one group or another. Lucas was the star athlete, this season for the baseball team, and had daily practices. Zay, mostly, got acquainted with bleachers and benches watching the others practice. And Maya, she painted. When she wasn't looking out for the others, she looked out for herself by spilling everything on a canvas—waiting until practices and meetings let out and her friends needed her again. This was how they had spent the last three years of high school. This was how they were still as close as ever.
So, Maya was in the art room. If she glanced at the clock, she would have noticed that it was almost time to wrap up, but she was absorbed in what she was working on, It was an assigned piece, a little extra time would do her well, and she figured someone would come find her when they were all ready to go. It was Friday. They all went to Topanga's on Fridays for smoothies; it was their thing and they did it without fail, even if they all had separate plans for after. The lower corner of her painting needed more green. She was mixing to the proper shade when she was collected—only she wasn't being beckoned to fresh smoothies.
Riley skidded to a stop at the open doorway of the art room, catching herself on the door frame when she almost flew right past it. She was out of breath and still half in her practice clothes. Her eyes were wide and full of the worry she often exhibited, only this time tenfold. Only Maya didn't see any of that yet.
"Maya, you need to come right now."
"Why?" Maya asked, just then turning toward the door to take in her best friend's state.
"I don't know what happened. I was in the locker room and then I heard—" Riley shook her head, as if tossing away the details that didn't matter. "Lucas is out of control. We need you NOW."
At Lucas's name, Maya had already dropped her things onto a nearby cart. She could get in trouble for the mess if her teacher came back before she did, but she was no stranger to detention, even if her record was far cleaner than it once was. By the time she was following Riley down the hall, she had already put thoughts of that behind. Obviously there were far more important things for her to address before a few tossed around supplies and left out paint.
A few steps before they turned the corner, Maya could hear the commotion. There was the sound of people cheering on and encouraging an altercation. Above that, she could hear Zay and Farkle's voices trying to reason with Lucas. Riley's brunette head had already disappeared around the corner and Maya followed a second after, in time to see the motion that caused the sound of something slamming against metal.
The something was one of Lucas's teammates from the baseball team and the how was Lucas shoving him roughly and then punching him hard enough to send the guy flying backwards against the row of lockers located just outside the doors to the athletic locker rooms.
Spurred on by the inevitability of the next physical connection, Maya ran down the hall, pushing her way through the small circle of onlookers and coming to a stop in the center. She planted herself between the two just as Lucas lurched forward. He stopped the second she blocked his path with her hand outstretched and pressed against his chest. Her hand rose and fell with each of his fast and hard breaths. For a moment, it was just the two of them, anchored by that touch.
"What are you doing?" Maya demanded.
Lucas glared over her shoulder at his teammate, his face contorted into an angry, twitching scowl, but he didn't respond. She could feel him vibrating with barely restrained aggression. She wasn't going to get any answers from him when he was in this state. Her only chance at reeling him in was to deprive him of distractions so he would focus on her.
"Get lost," Maya said over her shoulder to the guy still half slumped against the locker.
"Why should I—" the guy started to sneer, wiping his forearm across his lip as he righted himself on his feet.
Keeping her hand upon Lucas, Maya twisted enough to look at the guy. "If I remove my hand, my friend here is going to eviscerate you. So take the gift I am giving you and fuck off before I change my mind and let him."
The guy shot her a dirty look, but slunk off as directed. He snatched up his bag from where it had been tossed aside and then shoved his way past some of the gathered people. He disappeared down the hall, still in a huff. Getting rid of him was a start, but then there was the rest of them to deal with.
"That goes for the rest of you too," Maya raised her voice for everyone to hear. "The show is over. You can see yourselves out."
Everyone else started to disperse immediately. As they found their ways out of the hallway, it left Maya and Lucas alone with their friends. Riley had joined Farkle and Zay a few feet away. She looked just as concerned as she had when she had found Maya, but the boys seemed relieved that reinforcements had arrived just in time, because they certainly hadn't had a handle on the situation. Farkle had a comforting hand on Riley's shoulder and Zay hovered close to both of them. This was how they showed their support. All three of them watched to see what happened next.
Maya's hand was still resting on Lucas's chest, but he had started to regain a normal breathing pattern beneath her fingers. Now that they had mostly lost their audience, she looked up to meet his eyes again. His brow was knit together in a scowl, but some of the anger had left his eyes. Without a target for his rage, he was starting to calm down. But now that it was just them and their friends, Maya was the worked up one.
"Are you crazy?" Maya hissed. "What did I tell you? Huh? What did I tell you?"
"Maya—" Lucas started to explain.
"I'm your second. Always," Maya answered for him to keep talking, because she needed to be talking, if only because none of it would make it out if she let him get started. And once she got set off, there was no stopping her. This was why the others needed her. She was the only one he listened to when he was like this, the only one who could get him to stop. "You don't get yourself into messes like this without me to back you up. You got it?"
"I—" Lucas tried again, but was cut off.
"You could have gotten yourself expelled. Or kicked off the team at the very least," Maya said, pressing her hand harder into his chest to be sure he was listening. "What if you had really hurt him? What then, huh?"
"I wasn't thinking," Lucas said, his words quick to rush out before she cut him off again. He reached up and curled his fingers around her wrist.
"Damn right, you weren't," Maya sighed, letting the anger deflate out of her with it. Now she had to subsist on mild frustration, the twinge of guilt she felt for yelling at him even though she had been able to intervene in time, and lingering fear over what could have happened if she hadn't been on time. "Now I have to go back to the art room and clean up the mess I left coming to your aid. And you have to come with me, so I can keep an eye on you. Let's go."
Maya clenched her fingers around his shirt and tugged him forward. Zay handed off Lucas's bag to its owner as Maya led him away. Riley seemed to fill up with relief, already lighter on her feet because she knew it would all work out from here. Farkle gave Maya a curt nod, his way of saying thank you for stepping in and for her ultimate success.
"You three don't have to wait," Maya said. "I'll make sure Wild West Side Story here gets home without getting into anymore rumbles."
Riley took in and released a deep breath that could be seen in the heavy rise and fall of her shoulders. She mouthed a 'thank you' to Maya, as if now was the time for subtlety, before running a hand through her hair and heading for the girls' locker room, presumably to finish getting changed. Farkle shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but besides that neither he nor Zay made a move to leave. They would wait for Riley, probably walk her home and do their best to comfort her into believing everything would be okay—because it would be, because if there was one thing Maya was good at, it was Lucas, whatever that meant in the grand scheme of things. They didn't hide things like Pluto from her anymore, but the Riley Committee still had purpose. First, though, those two were going to watch Maya lead Lucas away until they disappeared around the corner. Maybe Maya had been wrong. Maybe this was how they all stayed connected. Maybe this was how they were still as close as ever. They each need each other in equal measure. That probably wasn't what other people thought—it certainly wasn't what other people said—but, in that moment, damn if Maya didn't believe it.
The walk to the art room seemed longer in reverser, although the difference might have been right there in the word walk, where as Maya had ran—or even more appropriate, sprinted—the first lap of that trip. She was also carrying far more baggage this time, a full sized man sized piece of baggage. Lucas would have followed her on his own. There wasn't much he didn't let Maya dictate, especially at times like this. Still, she felt better knowing she could feel him under her fingers. She had released his shirt in favor of wrapping her hand around his writ. She would have taken his hand, but that felt a little too personal when she was still, at least a little, irritated with him. So Maya walked and Lucas followed, each step feeling like ages, until they reached the art room.
Maya let him go once they were inside. He wasn't going anywhere and she had things to do. She didn't say a word to him as she started to clean up her workspace. Lucas stayed over to the side, leaning against the counter that ran along the wall near the door. He was quiet most of the time, with his head hanging, but as she was collecting the last of her brushes to put away, he spoke up.
"I'm sorry," Lucas said.
"Why are you apologizing to me? I'm not the one you tried to clobber," Maya said. She didn't look at him; in fact, she had her back to him as she picked up a rag to wipe up some of the paint she may or may not have splattered when she threw aside her palette. "I'm not the one you owe anything to."
"But I do," Lucas said, clenching and unclenching his fist. "I promised myself and you and everyone that I would be better at keeping myself in check and I failed. He just—what that guy said—Texas Lucas came out swingin'."
Maya flipped around and threw the rag at him. It hit him round he face and he caught it with an outstretched hand as it fell. He frowned at her and she stared at him with her hands on her hips.
"Alright, you need to stop saying 'Texas Lucas' like it's someone else other than you," Maya said.
"But it's not me—" Lucas started.
"Yes it is," Maya insisted. "You are Texas Lucas as much as you are Lucas the Good. It's a part of you, always will be. The sooner you learn to embrace that part of yourself, the sooner you'll be able to control it."
Lucas fell silent again, still frowning.
"Look, Huckleberry, you're probably the greatest guy I know and I know that's not something I tell you often, but it's true. And when I say that it's true, I say it with the understanding that there are parts of you that aren't perfect," Maya said. "If I'm honest, it's the fact that you have flaws that makes you so great. I see that, but as long as you see 'Texas Lucas' as this separate entity that operates independent of you, you never will. Doing that, pretending that the person out there in the hall wasn't you, only detaches you from the responsibility for what's happened."
"I know I'm responsible for that," Lucas said.
"Do you?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "Because blaming Texas Lucas when you do something wrong and then shoving him out of sight like he was never there isn't going to prevent a repeat of today. Pretending to be Mr. Perfect, who would never in a million years lash out physically, is only going to set you up for failure."
"What do you think I should do then?" Lucas asked.
"Like I said, embrace Texas Lucas as part of you. Accept that it's always there, that you carry that part of yourself with you," Maya answered. "And, maybe, in moments like this, it won't sneak up on you. Knowing it's there, knowing that it could assert itself, is how you control it. Knowing that you could snap is how you give yourself a chance to stop it before it gets to that."
"I guess it couldn't hurt to try," Lucas said.
"It couldn't hurt anymore than not trying has," Maya eyed the knuckles on his dominant hand, which were in the early warning stages of bruising and some of the skin had been broken—probably on his teammate's teeth if that guy's split lip was any indication. She picked up his hand in both of hers to inspect the damage up close. "I'm gonna have to clean that. Stay here."
There was a first aid kit in one of the cabinets; every classroom had one. It was only a matter of finding it. Maya muttered to herself as she moved around the room opening and closing doors in haste. Of course, it was in the last cabinet down at the far end of the counters shoved behind old containers of paint that probably should have been tossed out already they were so dismally empty. The kit was mostly a disorganized mess of different sized band-aids, but there was a tube of antibiotic ointment that still had enough in it to be useful. She took it and grabbed a clean rag before she returned to Lucas. She dampened the rag with warm water from the sink and used that to clean away the bit of dried blood from his fingers. She was careful, gentle, with her touch. His brows pulled together, but otherwise showed no reaction to her actions. When she was satisfied, she dried his hand with the other end of the rag. Then, she picked up the antibiotic and squeezed some onto her fingertips before she took up his hand again.
"Do I want to know what he said to get you all riled up?" Maya asked as she started to smooth the ointment evenly over each of his little wounds, because it was far too quiet in the room and she couldn't focus with silence pressing in on them.
"No."
Lucas obviously didn't feel the same about the silence.
Maya shook her head and went on anyway. "Is that really how this is gonna go? I just spilled out all this insight into how well I know you and you're gonna turn around and act like you don't know me well enough to know that I'm gonna want to know what he said even if it's not pretty? Really?"
"Maya—"
"Which means it was about me, had to be, otherwise you would have just told me," Maya nodded as she realized she was right without needing Lucas's confirmation. She kept sliding her fingertips over each of his knuckles, spreading the ointment. "You're trying to spare me. That's sweet, if misguided. I'm a big girl, Lucas. Whatever it was probably hurt you more than it would hurt me. And I'm sure it's nothing I never heard before."
"Someone bet him fifty dollars that he couldn't get you to hook up with him," Lucas's jaw tightened as he bit out the words. The response hadn't come right away and he clearly strained to get the answer out at all. "And he said the guy could save his money because you were too easy to be a challenge. He'd do it just to have done it."
"Huh, that's a new one," Maya replied. Her eyes were still on Lucas's hand as she returned her casual remark. "Most people at least think I'm worth the risk of losing fifty bucks."
"It's not a joke, Maya," Lucas snapped, yanking his hand away from her. It was clenched into a fist before it even reached his side.
"Sure it is," Maya said. "It's a joke that these people think for a second that I give a damn what they think of me. It's a pretty good one too."
"But it's not true," Lucas scowled. "Guys like that shouldn't be allowed to get away with saying crap like that."
"Maybe so," Maya shrugged, staying calm while he ramped up again. "But what are you gonna do about it? Punch your way through every teenage boy past puberty? There are always gonna be stupid boys, who think so highly of themselves that they believe it's their fundamental right to concern themselves with who I may or may not have opened my legs for. I know you want to go around avenging my honor, or whatever, but are you gonna beat them all up for me? Or just the ones you catch red handed? You gonna go a round with yourself? Because you might believe deep down that I have honor to protect, but I'm sure there have been moments when you wondered to yourself how those rumors got started. They didn't materialize from nothing. Am I right?"
His silence was an answer, but he cleared his throat and added, "I was looking out for you, Maya."
"And I'm looking out for you!" Maya countered. She jabbed him in the chest. "Don't you see that? You wanna get angry? Do it. You want to tell someone off? Go ahead. But the next time you put your fist in someone's face it's not gonna be in my name. You hear me?"
Lucas took a deep breath. "I hear you."
"Good, because I don't like to repeat myself," Maya said and took his hand up again to finish what she was trying to do before. "It never sounds as good the second time through."
"You also don't like to lecture, because it distracts from your wild, fun and spontaneous image," Lucas said and, when Maya couldn't stop her small laugh from slipping out, he added, "See? I know you."
"Like an open book," Maya murmured. She finished smoothing another thin coat of ointment over his knuckles, wiped her hands off on the rag and tossed it aside. She released his hand and breathed in deeply as she looked up at him. "There, I think that'll do."
"Maya?" Lucas started, leaving off the question he wanted to ask.
"You want to know who," Maya said. It wasn't a question. She could read what Lucas wanted all over his face. "You want to know who I trusted enough to give the fuel to ignite those rumors."
"You don't have to tell me," Lucas said.
"You're right. I don't. I shouldn't," Maya said. "You'll just want to beat him up too—"
"I wouldn't—"
"—but I'm going to tell you anyway," Maya continued. "Because I trust you enough to know that you'll know the right way to use the information."
"I'll try my best," Lucas promised.
"The answer is," Maya looked right into his eyes as she spoke her words carefully, "no one."
"I don't understand."
"Well, rumors get started one of two ways," Maya said. "Usually, a person does just enough that things get exaggerated. And boom, rumors spread like wildfire. Each one with a grain of truth."
"That's not what this is?"
"Nope," Maya shook her head, "This is scenario number two, when a person does the exact opposite and someone decided to tear them down anyway."
"You're saying, someone you didn't sleep with started the rumors because you didn't sleep with him," Lucas was scowling again.
"Brilliant deduction, Huckleberry," Maya said. "Are you surprised?"
"That means there is a who though," Lucas said, ignoring her small jab if he heard it at all. "Who was it? Telling everyone what happened between you and him would be one type of awful, but blatantly lying is...it's...worse."
"Not from where I'm standing," Maya shook her head. "I'd rather everyone think I'm easy than to actually be easy, just so we're clear."
"You know that's not what I meant," Lucas said.
"I know," Maya patted his arm. "You're just worked up. You're not thinking straight. I won't hold it against you."
"Maya—"
"Like I said, Lucas, I don't care what these people think about me. I know the truth. You know the truth. My friends know the truth," Maya said. "That's all that matters."
"You deserve better."
"Sure," Maya shrugged.
"You do," Lucas insisted.
"I'm fine with what I got," Maya looked him right in the eyes.
"He said something else," Lucas said. "About us. I didn't understand it then, but maybe..."
"What could he have possibly said about you and me?" Maya asked, even though maybe she had an idea of what it could be.
They all shielded Riley from certain things, to protect her and the pure hearted nature of her that in turn kept them all a little lighter and hopeful just for knowing her. But Maya, also, had learned that there were things that Lucas needed to be shielded from. Maybe needed wasn't exactly right, or maybe it was her that needed him to be shielded from them, because that was what she needed to be protected. Perhaps it was how she kept them connected and close as ever—because to hear him contradict those things might have disrupted the balance that kept them all together.
"He said that it would be satisfying to take you right as you slipped through my fingers," Lucas said.
"He probably realized that you are protective of your friends and it would require a lapse on your part to get to one of us," Maya said. There was a time when she was better at deflective fibs like this, but Lucas had this funny way of disarming the liar in her.
"I don't think that's what it is at all."
"No?" Maya swallowed thickly. "What do you think it is then?"
"I think he, like a lot of people, see something different between you and me than we've led each other to believe is there," Lucas responded. His voice was full and intense, but lowered to an almost inaudible rasp for his next sentence. "Rumors of the first kind I think."
"You're sayin..." Maya couldn't say what he was saying, not out loud, although she tried. It evaporated somewhere between her chest and her tongue as his eyes searched hers so carefully that she honestly believed for a second that he could see right through her.
"I'm worked up. I'm not thinking straight," Lucas said, each word slow and deliberate. "So, please try not to hold what I do next against me."
"What are you—"
Maya's words were lost as Lucas caught them from her lips with his own. If there was a time before he was kissing her, she hardly knew it. This kiss was the entire stretch of her world now. His uninjured hand pushed into her hair and tangled in her curls. He used his hold to keep her head angled up toward him as he dragged his lips over hers. She let out a sigh of a moan into his mouth and, at the sound, he slung his other arm around her waist. He used that hold to pull her close and turn them around so she was the one pressed back into the counter. She had parted her lips to let his tongue meet hers. He groaned as her hands found purchase at his side, her fingers curling against his ribs, and the back of his neck to tug him even closer. He released her hair to have both hands free to lift her by the waist to sit her on the counter. From her perch, her legs opened just enough for him to settle between them. His hands trailed from her hips, down the sides of her thighs, and then hooked around the backs of her knees to bring her flush against him. She wrapped her legs around him, locking them at the ankles to keep him in place. She pulled back her head to breath in desperately and his lips moved along her jaw and down her neck. Her arm wrapped around him, so her fingers could dig into his back, and the hand at his neck carded into his hair to tug gently. His teeth nipped at the crook of her neck and she stuttered out a breathy whimper.
"Jesus, Lucas, this is how rumors get started."
Lucas nuzzled against her skin. "I thought you didn't care what people said about you?"
"I don't," Maya said and forced his face back level with hers. She leaned in and kissed him once, twice and a third time, each one slow, soft and intimate. "I was just letting you know."
"Let 'em talk," Lucas replied.
"Only if you do," Maya said. Her eyes locked on his until she was sure he got the meaning behind what she was telling him.
"Deal," Lucas said and swept forward to kiss her again.
Had Maya really been angry at him earlier? Had Lucas really been in a fist fight over spiteful words about her not even an hour before this? It was hard for her to remember when he was kissing her like he was. It was hard to remember anything when he was kissing her like that—things like the fact that they were in the art room where just a short while ago she had been working on a project, that they were still at school, that just about anyone could walk in on them at any second. Somehow, neither of them seemed to care who saw. Though it was true that people would talk either way—already had been for quite some time if they paid attention to hallway whispers and locker room gossip—maybe, in this instance, it was better that the rumors had a little truth to them. Because maybe this was Lucas embracing the parts of himself that he had tried to deny, maybe it was the same for Maya. Maybe this was their new way to stay connected, because they were certainly closer than they had ever been before.
And that was probably the only rumor they wouldn't mind spreading.
-fin-