A/N: Hello! I've read enough Ladybug fanfiction to know that Marinette and Adrien are meant to be and Lukanette will only ever be temporary, so this is my attempt to give Luka, my new love, his own happy ending. I'm starting it off on Season 2's Gorizilla episode and will be slightly altering Captain Hardrock, so consider this an AU and I'll warn for future spoiler alerts if I start pulling from Season 3. Oh, and I don't own anything but Charlie.
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Music Inspiration:
Set It - Ol' Burger Beats
Four Shots - BadBadNotGood
Same Logic/Teeth - Brand New (Instrumentals Only)
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Chapter 1: The Parisian Underground
Luka eagerly approached the wooden door described to him online. It stood on a cobbled street corner, nondescript under the bright summer sun and with a crisscross of cast iron bars covering the blackened viewing window. A quick sigh passed his pink lips before he pulled on the handle and stepped into the darkness, taking care to shut the door behind him.
He traversed down the stairs into the Parisian underground, welcoming the chill of hidden bedrock and inhaling decades-old cigarette smoke still seeping from the walls, a dull flicker of candlelight and smooth lofi beat paving the path ahead. From what he read, this café was a refuge for the poetic, philosophic and musically inclined with fresh coffee beans brought in daily for top-notch pour overs, and smooth live music playing frequently throughout the week. As he crossed the true threshold into the cozy space, he noted that intel checked out. A quick glance around the room revealed almost every seat occupied with illuminated laptop screens and the blackest of berets, but he didn't spare them much attention as they weren't what he was looking for. Thanks to his sister, Luka had already found a bassist and singer for the National Music Festival in his two weeks back home from England, but it was a light clap of symbols coming from the stage that signaled his next venture.
Luka's cerulean gaze locked on to his wavy haired target seated behind the drums: the fabled drifter drummer. Every Saturday she would come to this café with her mish mash of band mates who'd soothe the masses with their lofi hip hop beats. No one had a name for her online, just a description and pages worth of praise. It was rumored that she popped up in various other venues throughout Paris, sitting in for sick drummers or soloing on the street on a Pearl Compact, but her elusiveness kept those sightings unverified (except for what he could gather from blurred video footage). Her seemingly lack of connection to any one band, rumored talent at multiple genres, and plainly obvious love for music was what hooked him when browsing the forums for potentials. He'd be lying to himself he didn't admit the mystery behind her was intriguing as well. Now, though, as Luka stood in front of this woman he'd listened to and read so much about, he was at a loss for how to approach her.
The curtain of chocolate hair that hung on the left side of her face glinted gold in the low mood lighting as her head bobbed to the hypnotizing beats reverberating from the brushes in her hands tapping against the snare. She trapped him like a snake caught in a charm, finding his own head bouncing to match her as the rhythm flowed through his bloodstream. His eyes continued their journey over her form, noticing the hair on her right temple closely braided back against her scalp, and allowing him to see her own cat eye-lined eyes closed, creating heavily feathered crescents on her olive cheeks. She had a small concaved nose that led to full lips stretched and slightly parted in an ethereal smile, and as his eyes fell further down from her visage, he noticed goose bumps dotting her skin. At the brass croon of a saxophone joining the melody, his eyes tore from the tattoo sleeve on her arm to the fellow at the forefront of the stage, feeling his own goose bumps arise in appreciation.
Luka was a lover of the hard rock genre, if his favoritism towards Jagged Stone was any indication, but he was also a lover of music in general, and with the magical production happening just steps from where he stood, it was hard to resist grabbing his guitar from where it hung in the bag on his back and joining them up on stage. The deep vibration from the kick drum traveled up through the soles of his feet straight to his chest cavity, the smooth plucking of the double bass pulled at his own taut heartstrings, and the fluid tenor of hammers hitting strings in the piano massaged his over-anxious nerves.
A few more beats of tranquility passed before the song transitioned to a more energetic hot jazz number, picking up the beat into a pulse pounding melody. Luka could feel his heartbeat increase and his breathing become erratic, his pupils dilating to absorb the environment around him. His head bopped quicker to the sound, his eyes finding themselves trapped back on swing of waves from his original target. Somewhere between the last song and this rapid tempo of music, she'd changed her brushes out for drumsticks, causing her beats to reverberate more throughout his body. It even felt like the throb coming from her kick drum was becoming more powerful as the song went on.
"Wait a minute," he mumbled in confusion, that last vibration nearly knocking him off his feet. His concern joined the other voices in the room as dust and small debris began drifting from the ceiling and the glasses lined up behind the bar started lightly chattering against each other. The music died down slowly from the stage, and an arty boy's quick search on a laptop to the Ladyblog notified the patrons of what was going on.
"Akuma alert!" the beret shouted, throwing the crowd into an organized frenzy. By now, with the normalization of Akuma attacks in Paris, every citizen knew what precautions to take until Ladybug and Chat Noir could solve the situation. Even though dust was still falling from the strong vibrations that were increasing in frequency, the safest place for these artists was down here, protected by bedrock and with food and water available from the café. Everyone crowded under tables that had been quickly pushed together in the center of the room to shield their bodies from the rubble, and soon, in their close huddle, they were all sharing information about the Gorizilla and Adrien commotion found online to fill the time.
Luka observed all of this from the sidelines, standing by the stage in a daze from how fast everything occurred and still rendered immobile from the effect of the music just moments before. He turned to notice that most of the band had abandoned their instruments and, at some point, made it under the tables with the rest of the patrons, but the drifting drummer hadn't left her post, still sitting behind the kit with a blank look in her golden orbs and uncaring of the dirt coating her.
Even in the dimness of the room those eyes shone from the shadows and drew him out of his stupor, compelling him without much thought to move and stand behind her with his body curved over her head to protect her from the falling detritus. He caught a whiff of tea tree and peppermint before she turned her sight up towards him, blinking owlishly at his nervous grin.
"Uh, hey," he started lamely; caught in a rut from her intense stare and wishing he'd taken the time to properly think about what he was doing. "I noticed you have some pebbles getting stuck in your hair, so…" he stopped his butchered excuse for invading her personal space, his eyes locked in fascination on that tattooed arm he'd been admiring earlier slowly raising from her side. Luka's gaze slid back to her amber watch as he felt a slight tug on his scalp from her slender digits twisting around a tendril of cerulean tipped hair hanging over her face. The world phased out around him, centered solely on this treasure he found as she took what seemed like hours to drag her forefinger and thumb down that lock of hair.
"Looks like you're no worse for wear, mon chevalier," her molasses voice poured with a smirk, her calloused palm opening to reveal the tiny rock she pulled from his hair. Feeling her eyes still locked on him, he stared at that lonely pebble in contemplation, making the revelation that whether or not she would join his band, he would do all he possibly could to get to know this girl better and become part of her life. His lips spread in a wide grin at the thought and then he spontaneously lifted his hands to shake the dust from his hair, creating a mini storm cloud between their heads. She giggled at first, the soft lilting noises growing into laughter, and a bit of a sneeze, observing his raised eyebrows and the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
"How about now?" he asked with a chuckle, liking the way her eyes glinted when she laughed.
"Hm," she mused, running her fingers through his hair to smooth it back down, his toes curling in pleasure, "Better, but let's get out of the line of fire before it returns to what it was." Grabbing her drumsticks and brushes in one hand and his hand in the other, she gracefully stood from her seat and pushed past him, leading him to a forgotten table in a darkened corner, the candle on top of it reduced to a frail wisp of smoke from the amount of debris caught in the jar. She sat beneath the table, pulling him down with her and leaning her back against the wall, spreading her fishnet-clad legs out in front of her and patting down her black skater skirt. Luka followed suit, leaning back against the wall next to her, placing his guitar in his lap and leaving just a sliver of space between his legs and hers. He found it hard to resist the urge to tap the side of his shoe against her Chucks playfully. They weren't quite friends, yet, he mused, despite the way they were already acting close to each other.
"Why were you still up there when this started?" he asked, motioning towards the stage just barely visible from their impromptu hideout. The vibrations had begun to decrease in frequency by then, but with the Akuma still at large, everyone was staying put until the Ladyblog stated it was safe and restorative ladybugs had made their rounds.
The laughter from moments ago still shone in her eyes, but her lips had returned to their blank state, parting to reply, "I was still coming down from playing…" She left it open ended, as if she had more to say but she stayed silent instead, simply staring at their pair of shoes sitting next to each other. Luka smiled to himself, feeling a connection there from his own previous state.
He fiddled with the zipper pull on his bag for a moment, mustering up some confidence through his guitar for the next plan of action. "My name's Luka by the way. Luka Couffaine. Sorry I kinda got in your space earlier. I wasn't really thinking."
She giggled again, drawing his eyes back to her as she stated, "I don't really mind. I'm all for doing what you want and regretting it later." She then moved closer to him, until their thighs and arms were touching, and tapped his shoe with her own, causing a smile to break out on his own lips.
"I'm Charlie. Or if you're the Man, I go by Charlotte Mullois. Just call me Charlie, though." She folded a piece of hair behind her ear, revealing a few studs pierced through the upper plane of cartilage. Before he could reach up to graze them with the tips of his fingers she continued, "So do you play?"
It took a minute, but when he realized she was talking about the guitar on his lap, he sighed in relief, excited to have an excuse to pull out his guitar to begin talking to her in a familiar language.
Luka smirked, remarking, "I dabble a bit here and there," as he slowly dragged the zipper around the bag and reached in to grab his black and white Stratocaster with care. He slid the worn leather strap over his head onto his shoulder and wiggled an arm between them to reach into his pocket to grab a pick, her emitting a ticklish snicker and him murmuring a quick sorry with a grin. It took a bit of maneuvering with the close quarters they shared, but he managed to bend his arm just enough in front of her so he wouldn't elbow her in a soft appendage when he strummed.
"I'm a little more adept at making friends with tunes than with my conversation," he excused, pressing nickel strings against the frets and strumming out an A Minor. He progressed into a smooth rhythm, transitioning into a lead riff after a few beats. He hoped to express to her his amazement at finding her here, the passion he felt when listening to her music, and his desire to create a band and future relationship with her through his song.
Charlie hummed to herself, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall as she let the music run through her. "I wouldn't say that mon rockeur," he shivered at the pet name, "I was thinking we'd become great friends, even without your Strat, but now…" she trailed off, drumming a beat on her thighs with her sticks, and bobbing her head up and down, tickling his exposed skin with her flyaway locks of hair.
His curiosity got the best of him and he lightened his strumming, making it soft enough to hear her response.
"But now?"
She kept up the pattering on her thighs as she turned to smirk at him, her gilded eyes gleaming in the shadows. "Now, I'm gonna want more."
He faltered, swallowed, and blushed, watching her dissolve into giggles.