A/N: My apologies for the wait darlings, too much shit has been going on recently. This sucks, I'm terribly sorry, it's 6 am. It was the only day I got off work early enough to accomplish this and really wanted to update for you guys, I apologize again!
There will be one more chapter ^-^
Enjoy, or try to!
(*)
Judging by the size of Smackle's ring, she shouldn't be so surprised to find how well off they are. Walking into the open foyer, she dismisses the two girls talking and her jaw drops.
A large spiral staircase right smack in the middle, large portraits decorating the salmon colored walls with the highest ceiling she's ever seen. Sometimes she had to duck to make sure she didn't bang her head off her door frame and Farkle can throw a ball up and lose it with the height of his ceiling.
Makes her apartment look like a homeless shelter- it pretty much is.
She hums in surprise, he really out did himself, she was proud.
"I assume Farkle informed you we would be coming?" Riley's voice snaps her back to reality as she bounces on the balls of her heels, turning to the raven haired woman glancing between the four of them.
Smackle grins, pulling the door back, black stilettos echoing into the foyer. "He did." She says softly, turning her head to look up the spiral staircase. "He's upstairs, four doors down on the right! Go on up, just knock first!"
Zay snorts, "Why, is he watching porn or something?"
Silence.
Maya rolls her eyes.
"I'm...that was uncalled for, I'm sorry, this staircase right? Got it."
She takes a quick glance at Lucas who is wrapping an arm around the darker boys mouth, guiding him towards the stairs and away from the tense situation he just put them all in.
(*)
"They have fourteen different choices of cereals. I'd like to think this would be Leonardo DiCaprio's biggest decision every morning. That's my goal in life."
"The stairs are that way, how did you find your way to the kitchen?"
Snickering, she glances up at Lucas, jumping off the stepladder (she didn't need him making any more midget jokes) with Lucky Charms tucked protectively under her wing. Arm. Same thing.
And she knows just by the way his lips crook slightly that he's not even surprised to find her suboging through the kitchen of someone she hasn't seen in over two years. She can't decide if she likes that he already knows her ways or if maybe she'll letting him in a little too early.
"I'm taking full advantage of this situation and I'd advise you to do the same, chiseled chest." She quips as she props up on one of the tall bar stools, two bowls in front of her. "Seriously, do you buy shirts two sizes too small on purpose to show off or what?"
Lucas shakes his head slightly and she's not surprised he listened to her, and maybe he's letting her in a little too early too.
"Maya, you can't just take all the marshmallows for yourself."
He really underestimates her.
(*)
Twelve minutes, a petty argument and Lucky Charm marshmallow's down her shirt later, she's being dragged up the spiral staircase by the loving hands of Riley. She can feel the brunette's sharp hold already bruising under her skin and she already looks like she volunteered in one of HeeHaw's hoedown throw-down bull riding incidents, she just doesn't care anymore. Like honestly, how long does it take for a gash on a forehead to heal up? She only got gassed and hit her head against a floor, it wasn't that big of a deal.
"If I promise not to run away again, will you unleash your satanic grip on my delicate body?" She wines dramatically.
Huckleberry is laughing beside her before he realizes he's also being dragged by the tiny brunette.
Riley snaps her head back with a dismissive glare, "You were shoving marshmallows down each others shirts," She scolds as they reach the top of the stairs. "Have you no manners, Maya?"
The tense hold on her arm is gone and she pulls her arm back, inspecting it for blood before looking back up with a smile. "It's like you don't even know me, peaches."
And then they're walking through this door that's double the height of Lucas and come on. Seriously?
Her eyes wander over the wall of computers, different sizes, different makes, colors. on the other side was pie charts, bar graphs. A long shelve above them cluttered with trophies he's won dating back to preschool to top of his class in university. It was literally just a decent room full of computers. She needs one, she only goes on it for three things: Pizza delivery, porn and cat videos.
"The tape." Farkle demands, holding out his hand for the cd, eyes glued to one of the many computers.
She was living off noodles in a cup while he's having steak for breakfast. That's both their lives summed up in a sentence. "Still as welcoming as always." She mumbles, dropping the cd in his awaiting hand.
Farkle quickly slides it in the side of his desktop before twirling his chair around to face the group of confused faces. "Still a misanthropist I see." His eyes flicker to Maya as someone lets out a "What the fuck does that mean?"
Sighing, his eyes landed on a darker skinned boy with frizzy hair. "To hate, vige and disgusted by the human race."
"That explains a lot." Lucas comments, sending a smirk in the blondes direction.
Riley doesn't hesitate to pull an arm out across the blondes chest to prevent her from lunging at the boy. "Farkle likes his words. "
"And who are you?" Farkle questions, ducking his head, observing the strangers, hands clasped together like he deemed himself an important member of society. He probably was, she hasn't kept track.
She just realized she's a pretty shit friend and should probably ask him out to coffee to catch up sometime. Except he'll declare they go to the place that sprinkles real gold flakes on his ice cap and her bank account would break.
Kidding, she doesn't have a bank account, fuck that. Her money is all under her mattress, right where it should be.
She glances at the boys before looking back at Farkle, speechless. Because who really are they to her? More importantly, who is Lucas to her? She can feel the sweat building in her palms. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't have gotten this far, she wouldn't have made it to her opening, hell he saved her life. How much more important can a person get after saving your life?
And fuck if she doesn't actually look forward to sitting on his couch, going through videos every other night, throwing popcorn at him just to see his nose crinkle and the way his jaw locks. The way he pretends to be annoyed (except for when she scratched his car, that he was actually not pleased about) but there's a ghost of a smile on his face every time because he knows she doesn't mean any of it. Or the fact that there's always strawberry ice cream in the fridge because he knows she likes it (not because she keeps eating it all on him) and how he still pins her down every now and again to make sure the gash on her head isn't infected.
He cares.
And fuck, so does she.
Her eyes linger on him for a moment, standing there with his hands in his jeans pockets.
Shit, fuck, dammit, fuck.
He feels her starring at him and looks at her with furrowed brows. The blood drains from her face and she reaches out to grab Riley's arm to steady herself. She can see him word an "Are you okay?"
And oh god stop fucking caring so much.
And fuck she likes him.
This is the worst thing that could ever possibly happened.
Riley glances down at Maya's hand cutting the blood circulation off in her arm before shooting her an alarmed look. "What's wrong?" She hisses, eyes snapping back to Farkle typing away.
"Nothing."
"Clearly not nothing."
"Drop it."
"It's happening isn't it? You're realizing you like him!" The brunette's entire face lights up and she hates it.
Nope, she's not doing this. Clearing her throat, she ducks her head and heads for the door. "I'm going to the bathroom."
"With your cereal?"
She forgot she'd grabbed the bowl while Riley was dragging them off out of the kitchen. Glancing down, she pauses, looking at the bowl full of marshmallows. Okay, yeah, this is fine. She doesn't look back at Lucas, letting out a snappy "Yes I am, Problem?" Before running out of the room.
(*)
That cannot be what she thinks it is.
Please don't be what she thinks it is.
Her fingers graze over her signature at the bottom before running along the paint strokes of the portrait.
Everything slows down, her eyes trained on her painting, over every line and smudge that she erased, every paint she mixed to get the perfect green to color the trees. The amount of tears shed on that very painting because it just wasn't perfect yet and she didn't know what it lacked for it to be perfect.
And she wasn't angry, she wasn't sad, she wasn't anything. She couldn't feel anything.
She shuffles back, her hip hitting the shower curtain as she takes it in.
Yeah. There it was. That's...the painting that was stolen. Farkle has her painting in her bathroom. Farkle broke into the gallery.
She doesn't feel the bowl slip from her fingers, she doesn't hear it crackle onto the ground, her eyes are focused on one part of the painting.
"PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN'T JUST DROP THAT BOWL ON MY NEW PORCELAIN FLOORS!"
But this doesn't make sense, that wasn't the voice she heard. She may have been literally dying but that's not the fucking voice. That voice repeated in her head a hundred times every night before she went to bed, echoed when she was alone with her thoughts. She couldn't shower without remembering it. He doesn't have any tattoos, this doesn't make sense.
"Maya?"
She moves her head slightly, finally taking in the group pilled into the spacious bathroom.
Her eyes dart back to the painting.
Answers, she needs answers. Where the hell is her voice? Why can't she talk or move?
"She's in shock."
"She's in shock fo-"
"Farkle, why is she starring at your painting?"
That's Smackle's voice. She doesn't know when she got in the bathroom but I guess it's a party now.
She's probably gonna cry. Or scream. Most likely cry because if it really was Farkle then he's capable of anything and she's probably gonna die.
She doesn't know what the fuck she's gonna do, all she knows is she's definitely having a panic attack.
Again.
How fucking embarrassing.
"Farkle that's her painting. What is her painting doing in your house?" Riley interjects and she glances at her in shock because she's never hear that tone of voice come from such a tiny person before.
"Wait, what?" Lucas's face lights up, a dark expression, pupils dilating.
Remember five minutes ago when Lucas was her biggest worry? She misses that.
"You have five seconds to explain yourself before I rip your throat out."
Zay pushes at his chest with a throaty laugh, Farkle stumbling back into Smackle. "Lucas, Luke. Back down, you're good, you're good."
Farkle is shaking his head ferociously and steps into the circle they've created around him. "I-I-I have no idea what you guys are talking about, a guy gave me that on the street like two weeks ago." He stutters, arms flailing.
He's probably freaking out more than she was but something clicks. She tilts her head slowly, teeth clenched. "What did he look like, Farkle?"
"I don't know, blonde, really tall, holes in his shirt. Scruffy beard."
Lunging at him, she fists his shirt in her hands, pulling him as close as she could. "And he just gave this random painting to you? And you had absolutely no fucking questions?" She growls. She can see the fear building in his eyes, his face pallid, skin gone cold.
"Someone told him to give it to me but wouldn't give in to who it was. And it was a great painting, I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity." He whispers against her and she doesn't know what she was about to do and she'll never know because there's hands on her waist and suddenly her feet are off the ground.
God dammit Lucas.
"Okay, short stack, take a breath. We're gonna figure it out." His breath is in her ear and how the hell is she supposed to be intimating and get answers when she's being thrown around like a ragdoll.
"Hey Lucas," She says softly, starring at the group that she'd captured the attention of.
"Yeah?"
"I hope you're not allergic to nuts because yours are gonna be in your throat if you don't put me down right now."
"Do you promise to act civilized and listen to Farkle?"
"I will end you."
"Okay, that's a no."
(*)
"Maya, you of all people should know that Farkle would never do that."
Somehow, Riley was the one to convince her to not decapitate Farkle for not knowing more about the mystery man and now they're back at her homeless shelter apartment. The tv's on in the back as static noise between Riley's life lesson's she keeps getting off those five cent gums.
Why is she even here? She should be out on Broadview street to find this guy, why he hell was she here?
"You do know that, don't you?"
Maya sighs, leaning back against the couch, eyes following the pattern on the ceiling. "Yes, Riles. Farkle isn't the big bad villain. I've caught on."
The brunette's knee's knock against hers as she turns to sit cross legged in front of the blonde. "Well then, what's wrong?"
What's wr- is she kidding?
Sitting up, she blinks at her best friend in judgmental silence. What's wrong.
"What's wrong? Let's talk about number one," She lifts a finger with a groggily laugh. "This guy went through the trouble of breaking into the gallery, releasing toxic fumes, stole my painting. Then gave it to another guy to give to Farkle?" She squeaks and her arms are flailing because how can Riley not know how unbelievable this situation was? Not to mention dangerous.
"Nobody goes through that much trouble without coming back to finish the job they started. I've watched CSI, Riley! I'm in danger! My pocket knife can't protect me from a mentally ill man with access to poisonous gases!"
Riley nods, pursing her lips. "Okay, well I can barely open a pickle jar so I'll be no help here."
Maya's brows scrunch together for a moment. "Okay, but those are actually really hard to open-"
"I know right! Like it was a bad hypothetically situation to compare my strength to but-"
"Okay, no we're getting off track. Who's the strongest person I know?"
Riley's lips curl into an evil smile. "I have an idea." She says slowly, shifting closer to the blonde.
"No."
The brunette pouts, placing her hands on Maya's thighs. "Maya, he's strong, intimidating-"
"No."
"He's an EMT, he probably knows how to kill someone with a pressure point. The guy will break in, he'll be like whoop, let me just pinch your neck and oh look you're paralyzed on the floor. Fool proof plan!"
"I said no."
"And he cares about you! He's the best protection you have!"
Maya huffs, closing her eyes. "Zay's a cop."
"Who pulled a gun on Farkle because 'I don't know who this guy is'?!"
"You have a valid point and that frustrates me."
(*)
"So that's why i've come to the conclusion that you would be...best suited to provide safety until I find out who it is. He's got everything planned out and could potentially come back and put a bullet in my head if he knows I'm looking for him. I don't know about you, I've had a shit life but I'd prefer not to have my brains splattered across the pavement. So whaddaya say Sundance?"
Lucas squints at her in confusion and suspicion. And he's not saying anything and why is she so nervous?
Rocking back and forth, she tangles her fingers together, looking at the key scratches on the door frame of his apartment.
"I'm gonna call Zay." He says finally and her eyes go wide as he turns to walk back inside to grab the phone.
"No!" She shouts and hauls herself onto his back, causing him to let out a grumbled 'oouf'.
"He knows how to deal with this stuff! Get off me!"
He tries to shake her off but she wraps her arms around his neck to steady herself, crossing her ankles together around his abdomen.
"He'll end up shooting one of us instead." She explains, practically seeing his eye roll. "Now, I like Zay, I do, but if you put him in charge of my safety, I'll be more likely to die than if I were to protect myself." She stops for a minute. "Plus, you're more..fit, therefor I feel safer around you. Double plus, I can actually stand being around you for more than five minutes without wanting to put my head through a wall. So, I've decided you're best for the job. You don't have a choice in this, is what I'm getting at."
She can feel him stiffen beneath her and this is not the time to tell him he smells like mint and axe shampoo. And that his hair is damp, probably just out of the shower. Sweat pants look good on hi- ok hands wrap around her thighs to steady her even though she has a pretty tight grip and turns his head slightly with an amused smirk.
"Did you just call me attractive?"
"Is that seriously all you got from that? I mean, yes, no, I said you're fit." She emphasizes on the word, "It's not the same thing."
"It is in England."
"Are we in fucking England, Huckleberry?"
"You're trying to flirt with me." He confirms with a chuckle before turning towards the couch and dropping her on it.
Her heart picks up and she licks her lips, sitting up straight and fixing her hair. "Absolutely not. Me and you? I-I-I can't fathom it."
He cocks his head, brows raised. "Really? You c-c-can't?"
"Someone needs to pop your ego bubble, it's getting too big." She notes, turning away from him.
And then he's sitting down beside her and the playfulness is gone. Oh no.
No no, seriousness was not her forte. Yeah, she acts confident but one time a boy tried to kiss her, she punched him in the nose because she didn't know how to react.
Don't judge you assholes, she was sixteen.
"Mhm. So then..." He starts, turning fully towards her, eyes flicking between hers. "Why did you run out of my apartment that night?"
Her tongue runs along her teeth, how does she answer this without spilling that he made her feel like a teenager again and that she wasn't ready to deal with icky emotions?
"What night?"
Yeah, that's what she went went.
"You know what night, Maya." He snaps.
"Why did you really decide to help me with all this?" She says instead, turning fully towards him to mirror his actions. Yes, deny then switch the topic. Always works.
"I already answered that."
Fuck.
"Not truthfully."
He bites his lip for a moment his gaze drops to her chest. "What exactly is the answer you're looking for?" He teases but her stomach flips because there's something in the way his voice changed and his gaze rises back up to hers. "That...I thoroughly enjoyed seeing you in just a bra?"
Her body jolts, she hopes he misses it because he hasn't looked away yet and her body fills with a warm sensation. Her finger tips are tingling like her body just set off fireworks. "I'm sorry, what?" She clears her throat, leaning back slightly.
He grabs her wrist, pulling her back, "Or that the curves of your body..." His hand runs up her arm to her shoulder, up to her jaw. "Run through my head every time you look at me now?"
His breath is against her lips, his thumb running along her jawline and she ultimately loses her shit.
She came to make sure she doesn't die, not be seduced. She's half convinced Zay's gonna pop out of a closet or some shit with a camera.
"Lucas-"
"Or that I should have kissed you but you ran out before I could?"
How is he even closer than he was before?
"W-w-what?"
His eyes flicker to her lips, "Or that I really want to right now?"
"Lucas." She closes her eyes for a split moment before he pulls away.
"But of course that's not what you wanna hear." He smirks.
"You're an asshole."
"And you're a manipulative bitch sometimes."
"Don't call me a bitch."
"Don't act like one."
what the? No.
She grabs his face in her hands, crashing her lips against his. Without thinking, his hands roughly grab at her hips, pushing her against him.
"Still a bitch?"
"Shut up." He mutters against her lips, backing them up until she's uncomfortably leaning back against the arm of the couch. Her hormones don't give a shit apparently as she props herself back up, leaning back on her elbow, cocking a brow. "That's not a way to talk to a lady, Huckleberry, didn't they teach you that on the farm?"
He slips his hand over her elbow, causing her to fall back onto the couch, hovering over her. "Stop talking." He grunts as he ducks his head into the crease of her neck.
Swallowing a moan, she tilts her head back with a smile, feeling his lips on her skin. "It's easier to just admit you like me."
He stops abruptly, pushing away, placing his hands on either side of her head to hold himself up. "Mama told me never to lie to a lady." He taunts.
What an asshole. But she has no comeback, she just really doesn't wanna stop this and the heat between her legs needs to be taken care of.
She buckles her hips against his, grazing him through his sweatpants. His eyes scrunch closed, letting out a faint groan in the back of his throat.
"Don't start what you can't finish, short stack." He mutters quietly and it almost sounds like a plea rather than a threat.
She opens her mouth to speak when a loud knock comes through the door.
Lucas lets out a frustrated sigh, dropping his head on her shoulder.
"LUCAS IS MAYA THERE?"
He sighs again. "Go away, Zay."
"I NEED TO TALK TO HER, IT'S IMPORTANT!"
He lifts his head, looking down at her in annoyance. "WE'RE A LITTLE BUSY!"
"What could you possibly be doing, you live the most yawn worthy lif- oh." Silence. "Shit, you fucking in there?"
Jaw clenched, Lucas rolls onto his side beside her. "If we're quiet enough, he'll leave."
Is he serious?
Rolling her eyes, she crawls over him towards the door, adjusting her shirt.
"Zay." She says awkwardly as she pulls the door open just enough to see the boy on the other side.
"You better be dying or dead." Lucas mutters from the living room.
Zay scoffs, leaning against the door frame with crossed arms. "Yes, Luke, died twice just on the way over here." He says sarcastically and looks back at Maya. "I found the guy."
This is way too many emotions to deal with in one day. Wincing, she runs a hand through her hair, whipping the door open. "I-um, where? How?"
"We have to wait for him"
"We?" Lucas says from the couch, irritation still evident on his face. She glances back at him, now sitting up, elbows propped up on his thighs, one hand holding his head up.
Zay nods, "Well I cant arrest him with no proof of a crime and Farkle isn't answering to be able to identify him, so you'll have to just talk to him and get your answers." He continues, pushing into the little apartment just as Lucas throws a pillow over his lap, turning a crimson red. "lets go?"
"I'll be there in a minute." He grits through his teeth.
"Wh- oh." He snickers. "You got a boner."
"OUT!"
(*)
