It's almost three in the morning when Spada climbs through his window and shakes him awake; Luca stares at him, tired and fighting the urge to yawn, swaying slightly in his sheets and his eyes lowly drooping. Spada snaps his fingers in front of his face and he jolts, flinches and frowns. Spada grins, jerks his thumb towards the window silently, and whispers for him to get dressed, 'cause they're going out on the town.

It's with a heavy heart that Luca gets dressed while Spada waits by the window, peering out of it and trying to judge if Luca could make the jump or not. As soon as Luca joins him at the windowside he scoops him up, bridal style, and shushes any protests before he carefully leans out and jumps, landing with a hard thump on the packed dirt and pausing, waiting for any signs of life in the house, before straightening up and putting Luca back on his feet. Luca sighs and peeks out from the alleyway created by the two houses, and jumps when he turns his head to ask something and Spada's close, real close, staring at him as if he's looking for something. They hold the position for what feels like minutes (his heartbeats in his ears tells him it's only a few seconds) before Spada laughs, grabs his hand, and pulls him along.

"You shoulda seen yourself, Luca! All scared and stuff, like I was gonna eat you or somethin'."

"I wasn't expecting you to be right there! A-Anyways, shouldn't we try to be a little more-"

"Damn, you're loud. Shut up, or do you wanna get caught?"

Luca purses his lips and resists the urge to point out that Spada had been the loud one first, not him. Urged resisted successfully, they continue through Regnum, twisting and turning down roads and ducking into shadows, peering around to look for guards enforcing the curfew. They meet with none on the way (Luca's not sure how to feel – worried or thankful) and they hit the red-light district with time to spare. Spada tugs him into the first bar (The Golden Crown, or so the sign above it reads) and sits Luca down at a table in the back, promising to return. Luca squirms in his seat, eying the drunk company that neatly surround his escape routes and sighs, twiddles his thumbs and tries not to make eye contact with anyone until Spada returns with two glasses of- of something, though it smells strong and horrible when Luca gets a whiff of it .

Spada raises a silent toast (or maybe he says something; his mouth moves, but Luca can't hear him over the roar of the bar) and downs his shot in one go; Luca mimics the motion but hesitates to drink it, pausing uncertainly until he squeezes his eyes shut and pours it down his throat.

It burns and Luca coughs, smacks his chest a few times and scowls at Spada when he laughs, loud and boisterous, slamming an open hand on the table and wiping tears from his eyes.

"Damn, Luca! You act like you're dyin' or something! It's just a little whiskey, don't be so dramatic."

"It burns when it goes down, Spada."

"Yeah. Good stuff, ain't it?"

Luca makes a face and sets his glass down, pushing it away; Spada grabs it and winks at him before he's off again, evidently to get refills. Luca groans, sets his head down on the table, and closes his eyes, waiting for his next drink to arrive with a flicker of anticipation and fear in his heart. The flicker doesn't fade when Spada slams down the shot glass in front of him again, and Luca feels dread clawing at his stomach when he peeks open an eye and sees it. Spada reaches over and thumps him on the back twice, nudges the glass towards him, and waits. Luca finally realizes he's waiting for him to pick up his because damn, they were going to do this toast-thing in time now, none of this 'sissy holding back' business, and Luca wants to just close his eyes and when he wakes up, he will be back in his bed. This is all just a bad dream.

(Spada's insistence on pinching him reminds him that no, this is not the nightmare he thinks this is, please look in another castle.)

He raises his head and his glass up, clinks it with Spada's and downs the translucent, brown liquid. It burns, but not as much this time, and he manages to crack a smile at his drinking partner, who returns it full-force and holds out his hand for the glass. Luca shakes his head and sets it down, out of reach, and snatches it away when Spada tries to lean over and grab it. He holds it over his head, leaning back in his chair; gravity helps him to tip over when Spada slides onto the table and tries to wrestle it from him, and they both go tumbling to the floor, shouting and landing hard on wooden floors.

Nobody takes any notice, though, not even when for a moment, Spada's straddling his hips and it's really uncomfortable against the chair, and they both lick their lips and Luca gulps, because he's a lightweight but he's not drunk enough for this, and neither is Spada, but they kiss anyways and Luca finds his hand missing one (1) shot glass when he registers that they've broken apart and Spada's slipping through the crowd to get another round. By the time he returns, Luca's righted the chair and righted himself, and he downs the shot as soon as Spada hands it off to him and-

God, that's such a weird feeling; he feels light, really light, as if he's made of feathers and he slides his chair closer to Spada's (even though neither of them really want them anymore, despite the fact they need them for support), tugs his sleeve and frowns when Spada glances down at him with a puzzled look. Luca pouts his lips for a second, thinking, then closes his eyes and lays his head on Spada's shoulder.

"Is this your idea of a good time?"

"You got a better one?"

"No, I just thought... you'd have more planned, I guess, with you being... you."

Spada shrugs and shoulders him lightly, just a nudge and not enough to catch him off balance.

"You're a lightweight, Luca. I wouldn't take you out to anything serious. 'Sides, we ain't old enough for that yet."

"...but we're older enough to get drinks in a bar in the red-light district..?"

"Not exactly, but the bartender here likes me. She thinks I'm cute."

"I can imagine."

And he can; he can imagine himself being behind the bar and having Spada swag up to the counter, all grins and raised brows, and he can see how confident he'd be, slipping onto a stool and leaning closer to have a bit of conversation. It's charming, really, the idea of it, and Luca laughs a little and looks up and kisses Spada, and the latter doesn't know how to react for a moment (why so sudden, Luca?) before he breaks away and pulls him to another room. A little more private and an infinite amount quieter; Luca enjoys the silence until Spada nudges him against the wall and slips his tongue into his mouth. It's all quick from there, until Luca's trying to get Spada's pants off at the same time Sapda's trying to tug Luca's down over his hips and onto the ground. It's a mess of limbs tangled up in sheets (thank god for beds; inns, bars, everything's the same) and Luca decides to just fuck it and ends up spooning against Spada, asleep, who groans but holds him close anyways, stroking his hair and drifting off to sleep despite the boner aching in his pants. It's gone by the time he wakes up anyways, and Luca's still half-asleep, curling tighter and tighter into a ball every time Spada nudges him (until he kicks him off the bed, which definitely wakes him up) and groans from the floor. He can barely stand, weak-kneed and a pounding headache; Spada's isn't as bad, and he regains his land-legs sooner that Luca loses his sea-ones.

They spend the next three hours looking for the residential district, first hobbling through alleyways and roads in the dark and gradually finding their way back as daylight starts to peek over the houses. Luca's dragged up and tucked back into his bed before his parents wake up, and Spada's out the window and out of sight by the time Luca's mother steps in to wake her son up and sees him looking at her with tired bloodshot eyes and just decides to leave him alone for another few hours.

It's the best decision she's made all week, Luca decides.