Chapter 1 – The Incident

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Like most things in Luke's life, it started as an accident.

Band practice had devolved from Julie and Flynn offering constructive criticism on the newest song Luke had written for Sunset Curve to Flynn gently ribbing on Luke's quality as a frontman – an expectable enough evolution that the moment they started trading jabs Julie abandoned the garage in favor of finding snacks, Alex following her with a roll of his eyes as they settled into an impromptu break.

Luke liked arguing with Flynn, mostly because it was never serious, and whatever critiques she had were meant kindly (not like his parents, who only ever seemed to have a list of demands that grew every day). They were constructive, as Bobby liked to say, except in this particular moment because Flynn was one hundred percent, unquestionably, stupendously wrong.

"Anyone?" Flynn echoed, her brows furrowed with a look of incredulity that was frankly unwarranted. "You think you have chemistry with anyone? Sorry Lucas, but even your puppy dog eyes have limits."

"Sultry eyes," Luke corrected, and Flynn's following eyeroll was entirely predictable, as was the way Reggie stifled a laugh into the palm of his hand.

Luke couldn't see Reggie because the bassist was in his blind spot, 'helping' Bobby tune his guitar, but Luke knew Reggie as well as he knew any of his bandmates, knew the difference between a surprised gasp and an aborted laugh because he spent every moment he could with them and no, that didn't mean they were dangerously codependent the way Carrie said they were. Like Bobby's cousin knew anything at all.

"And yes," Luke continued, getting back on track. "I can have chemistry with anyone – I'm that good."

"He has great chemistry with the toaster," Reggie chimed in, always eager to help. "You should see the way he longingly stares at it when Pop-Tarts are on the line. Not that I blame him."

Flynn made a face. "You're the only weirdo I know that likes Strawberry Milkshake Pop-Tarts."

"What's wrong with Strawberry Milkshake?" Luke asked, turning so he could aim the question at Bobby.

Like, maybe he'd noticed that he was the only one that touched the box during rehearsals or sleepovers or when Bobby let him crash at his place because Luke's mom was throwing around the words military school, but he'd always assumed that maybe Bobby ate them in private or something. They'd always been in the pantry. There's no way Bobby's grandparents would have them if no one actually ate them, right?

Bobby seemed to sense some of his uneasiness (even though Luke hid it like, super well), and offered him one of those small smiles, because Bobby wasn't about being overly expressive. "There's nothing wrong with that flavor," he said, one hand tangled in Reggie's dark locks, petting random patterns that the bassist eagerly leaned into like a cat.

"Nope, nothing wrong," Reggie agreed, his eyes shut now so he could savor the feel of Bobby's head scratches.

Luke did not blame him; those things were the stuff of legends. Honestly, he was a little annoyed at arguing with Flynn – that could be him right now.

Whatever, he'd ask Bobby for some later, after using his puppy do- super sultry eyes on him, but in like, a platonic, bro's-for-life sort of way.

There was an art to these things.

Luke turned back towards Flynn in time to see her send a despairing look towards the ceiling, like she was asking the greater powers that be for some kind of patience. It was something she and Julie did a lot. Luke suspected they got it from Carrie, but the action had spread like an infection through the rest of their friends, to the band – Alex doing it almost daily. Luke was pretty sure Reggie tried to copy him out of solidarity, never one to miss out on an opportunity for bonding, but he never really understood when it needed to be utilized, so now Luke had a collection of photos on his phone that were all of Reggie staring at the ceiling in confusion. It was pretty great. He was going to make a slideshow one day.

Bobby was the only one who kept his eyes on the people he was actually talking to, like a normal person, he would say. Joke was on him though, Luke didn't buy that for a second. He knew Bobbert – the guy had chosen to take the 'cool and mysterious' role of their band and was getting into character now before they got famous, but Luke was onto him. Bobby was the group's dad just as much as Alex was the group's mom, leaving Luke to be the super stud frontman while Reggie was the uh- excitable nephew or something, Luke was losing track of the metaphor.

"You guys are hopeless," Flynn muttered, crossing her arms with a huff because she was totally jealous of their solidarity.

Luke could always count on his bros, was his point.

"Hopelessly good," Reggie chirped, looking slightly more awake now that Bobby's hands had dropped to his shoulders. "With chemistry!"

"Thanks, Reg," Luke said, offering the bassist a wide smile that got him a happy flush in return. "See Flynn? It's unquestionable."

"It's Reggie," Flynn countered, her tone dry. "That gives us plenty of reasons to question."

"Hey," Reggie said, his tone a little hurt.

Luke didn't pay him much mind, knowing that Bobby would take care of things the way he usually did, distract Reggie by working on a particularly stubborn knot of muscle.

"You want a demonstration?" Luke challenged, making Flynn's brows raise in interest. "I'll prove it to you."

He turned before she could respond, because Luke had always been a sort of plan-on-the-go kind of guy, where he made up the rules in an instant and then committed to them. The band had been the best way to get him to plan things out in a long-term, concrete fashion, but that was the extent of his impulse control.

His gaze landed on Reggie, and since he was positioned in front of Bobby (and Flynn needed to be a neutral observer so she could confirm this without bias), Luke made a beeline for him.

This, of course, was where the accident began.

Because the singing thing- obviously that was on purpose. Luke needed to defend his reputation. Flynn was a gossipmonger and could spread information like no other, he obviously couldn't have her going around, daring to imply that Luke's chemistry was questionable. So Luke serenaded Reggie, and he wasn't even sure what song he picked in hindsight, only that he'd made an effort to ooze like, sultry cool vibes.

Luke had sung in Reggie's face hundreds of times before. This wasn't really anything new. Usually there was a microphone between them and like, Reggie was singing back, smile stretched wide because they were creating super cool music and he was never one to forget the immensity of that, but this wasn't all that different.

Except maybe it was? Because Reggie was just taking the full intensity of Luke's chemistry or whatever, and on a whim, Luke settled his hand on the base of Reggie's neck, stabilizing him and making sure he was in the moment.

They were close enough for Luke to see the green tint of Reggie's eyes, something usually hidden by the poor lighting of the garage. He could see the usual rosy splotches on Reggie's cheeks grow into a full flush that spread across the bridge of his nose. Luke knew realistically that he might not have chemistry with everyone in the world, but he certainly had chemistry with Reggie, and when the bassist's lips parted in a small, silent gasp, Luke was granted with an expression he'd never seen on Reggie before. At least, not one that was aimed at him, and-

"What are you guys doing?" Alex's voice shattered the mood like the buzzkill he was, but when he wandered into view he had a bowlful of pizza rolls, so Luke couldn't be that mad at him.

"Alex!" Luke cheered, pulling away from Reggie so he wouldn't just keep staring because he was pretty sure he wanted to. There was this weird churning in his gut that made him feel a little shaky but he shoved it away. "Tell them strawberry milkshake pop-tarts aren't gross."

Alex sighed, then looked up towards the ceiling like the giant traitor he was. "I'm not talking about this again."

"Then tell Flynn I have super chemistry," Luke pouted, because Alex might complain about it all the time but there was a chance that Luke had entirely on accident caught a section of Alex's journal that he hadn't realized was a journal (they all had songwriting books, okay?) that went on about the way Luke's bottom lip poked out when he pouted. Like, enough for Luke to feel really good about himself, and then feel bad for accidentally violating Alex's privacy (if it meant anything, Luke thought Alex had a cute pout too – in like, an objective sense, even if Alex would forever protest the idea that he pouted).

"Oh, you don't have to tell me," Flynn hummed, letting her argument take a complete one-eighty without the slightest hint of care because that was just the type of person she was. "I saw it. I believe."

"Why you doubted in the first place was beyond me," Julie muttered before passing out her bottles of soda. Luke allowed himself a moment to appreciate the way she had his back before she continued with, "To his face, I mean. You knew he was going to make a big deal about it."

"But that's part of the show," Flynn cheered, the two of them toasting pizza rolls and carrying out a silent conversation with their eyes the way best friends did.

Luke would know, he did it with Bobby all the time.

Speaking of- Luke turned to see how Reggie was doing – you know, see if he'd recovered, and maybe he was a little disappointed to see that the bassist was just fine. He'd already moved on to cuddle against Alex's side while eating a handful of pizza rolls, almost like the chemistry moment hadn't happened at all, which was… a bummer?

Luke puzzled over that. He didn't really know the why of it, but he had the distinct feeling he wanted to see Reggie wear that expression again. Wanted to be the cause of it.

Before he could overthink this, Bobby caught his eye and then and there, Luke knew he was done, because Bobby knew.

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The rest of rehearsal passed in a bit of a daze, but after being suitably bribed with snacks, Julie was willing to finish sanding out the rough edges of their song until it was demo-worthy, at least in Luke's opinion. There had been a minor disruption near the end of rehearsal when Alex checked his phone, letting out a surprised squawk a few moments later because apparently Flynn had recorded the chemistry thing and uploaded it to their private group chat. Luke spent the rest of rehearsal puffing up with pride, though inside he was secretly grateful for the video evidence, because even mentioning the story didn't bring the same dazed look back to Reggie's face.

No, the bassist seemed unaffected, too busy laughing at Nick's bemoaning comments and Willie's snarky replies – showing them off to Bobby as though he was not also on the group chat – to contemplate such things.

Luke wasn't disappointed, honestly. They'd had a productive day, he'd defended his cred as the band's sexy frontman, everything was good.

And everything would continue to be good even as the others scattered, returning to their own homes in preparation for school the next day. Reggie bummed a ride with Alex despite his house being in the exact opposite direction and Julie and Flynn were picked up by Mr. Molina, leaving Luke alone with Bobby, wondering how much time he could kill in the studio before he'd be forced to bike to his house.

Bobby always offered to drive him, but Luke already bothered Bobby with enough stuff as it was. Constantly crashing at his place, ranting about his parents – sometimes he felt like he practically lived at the Wilson residence. He always insisted that he wanted to get in the exercise, but really, Luke just wanted to pull his weight where he could. It wasn't like he could offer Bobby a safe refuge to retreat to after a long day or anything, not that the guy would need it.

Luke was absently strumming his guitar, playing around with a new melody to go with the half-formed lyrics he'd been considering in his notebook when he caught Bobby lingering on the other side of the garage, after he'd straightened up. He was super responsible like that.

"Stay for dinner?" Bobby asked, Luke's shoulders relaxing at the offer he hadn't known he'd been waiting for. "Text your mom and tell her we're gonna tackle our homework after. I'll drive you home when we're done."

Luke perked up. "But we'll really listen to music?"

Bobby sent him an unimpressed look. "And then we'll do our homework," he deadpanned, and then he was helping Luke put away his guitar, and since he was officially slotted as Luke's best bro for life, he was actually allowed to touch Luke's baby.

It was okay, Luke was allowed to touch Bobby's too. It was a thing.

Luke made a face to combat the warm feeling that filled his chest every time Bobby helped him with something he didn't necessarily need to. "You and your thing with schoolwork. We won't need algebra when we're famous."

"Kids are gonna look up to us though," Bobby pointed out. "Try to emulate us. Even if we get a record contract-"

"When," Luke corrected, because this was important.

Bobby continued like he hadn't heard him. "You know the odds of anyone mimicking our success is slim. We've got to be responsible, Luke, at least get our GEDs."

They'd had this discussion many times before, and just like every other time, Luke sighed, but reluctantly agreed. "Even if they're stupid."

"Even if they're stupid," Bobby agreed, because he understood the way Luke's attention seemed to skitter around from second to second when trying to focus on non-music related topics. Honestly, the guitar had been a bit of a godsend with the way it had settled Luke, giving him the means to entirely commit to something (and not hyperfocus or whatever his mom thought – it was music, not like, steroids or whatever. It was a good thing).

A hand settled into Luke's hair, and finally, he was rewarded with head scratches, and Luke maybe lost a few moments savoring those before Bobby cleared his throat.

"Come on," he said, pulling his hand away. "Gran made spaghetti. We need to heat up the garlic bread."

Luke perked up. "Can we add cheese?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Bobby hummed, and then he was leading Luke towards the kitchen the way he had so many times before.

Dinner was great, but it always was at the Wilson residence. Bobby's Gran was a mean chef who believed in heaping portions, and maybe that didn't super help Luke with his workout stuff, but it was so delicious that he couldn't really argue it. He'd take the tasty food and warm, supportive atmosphere of Bobby's house over the tense, frozen dinners at his house, at least when his parents were home at all. Sometimes he thought they liked to work overtime more than they liked living in their own house.

Whatever, Luke had a solid repertoire of recipes at his disposal thanks to the combined efforts of Bobby's Gran, Mrs. Mercer, and Mr. Molina. He could feed himself just fine.

Luke, because he was not a total mooch, helped with the dishes – as always having to insist upon it multiple times because Bobby's grandpa didn't like imposing on guests in such a way, but at this point, Luke liked to think he was more family than a guest, and if his own parents had taught him anything, it was that impositions were expected with family. In retaliation, Gran packed him up some food to go same as she always did, and then Bobby whisked Luke up to his bedroom before Luke could get pulled into helping make dessert, because he was pretty sure there was going to be cobbler and he'd been trying to get Gran's recipe for that for years.

"Homework," Bobby tutted, tugging Luke along by his wrist. "You finish your algebra, you get cobbler."

"Slavedriver," Luke pouted, but then Bobby was helping him make sense of the math shit he could never keep his focus on during class, so it wasn't a huge loss.

Bobby was kind enough to wait until Luke was down to reviewing his vocab cards for English (so boring – seriously, he might be a songwriter, but who needed this many words?) before he brought up the topic Luke had been waiting for him to touch on since the others had left rehearsal.

"Luke," he began, just that, just one word, and after all that time it would be reasonable for Luke to be confused, but he knew Bobby too well and was too damn known by Bobby to not have a perfect idea of what he was referring to. After all, Luke hadn't exactly been subtle about staring at the video in the group chat while they'd been studying.

Just- that face. Luke caused plenty of ladies to swoon at their gigs, that was his job, but getting that reaction from Reggie… it was just different.

Luke swallowed, tried to organize his thoughts. "Just-"

"No," Bobby said, and when Luke abandoned his flashcards to actually look at him, Bobby was meeting his gaze head on, his expression firm, like this was a hill he'd gladly die upon.

Which was how Luke knew he was a little bit fucked. "But-"

"No," Bobby said, and he didn't even raise his voice, didn't bust out that slight air of disappointment that ruined Luke every time – just established a boundary. "You can't play with Reggie, Luke."

Despite his best efforts, Luke knew his face crumpled with a bit of hurt, and Bobby was kind enough to seem apologetic in light of that. "I wouldn't- I don't want to play with him."

"But you want to see that response again."

"Yeah," Luke said, and it seemed selfish, now that Bobby was talking to him. Greedy. Luke was hyperfixating and he hated it, hated the awkward thrumming pitter-patter of his heart, the idle energy that threatened to make his fingers shake.

Bobby sighed, seeming to read the torn feelings on Luke's face, and motioned Luke over to him. He'd claimed Bobby's bed once he'd shifted to his flashcards (the ones Alex had made for him despite being in AP English because it helped when his hands were occupied with easy tasks), leaving the rhythm guitarist at his desk to tackle his AP History stuff.

Luke hesitated for a moment, never one to enjoy a pity invite, but he gave up his pride with a sigh, abandoning his cards and crossing over to Bobby so he could cuddle in his lap. It was something they'd started doing as kids and never really stopped, and Bobby's grandparents had never made any comments about it (and they didn't see Luke's parents enough to do it in front of them), so they'd held course. Luke pretty much cuddled with everyone in Sunset Curve – they all did, because toxic masculinity was stupid and cuddles were great – but Bobby was his go-to teddy bear.

After he settled in, Luke was rewarded with fingers carding through his shaggy locks, something that had him instantly melting against Bobby's chest.

"What did you like about it?" Bobby asked, and it seemed like a simple enough question, Luke just felt like maybe it wasn't though.

"I don't know," Luke replied honestly. "It was just cool to see Reggie all… you know."

"So was it Reggie, or was it because he's a guy?" Bobby asked, and Luke paused, really trying to think about this.

"Could it be both?"

"It could," Bobby soothed. "You just haven't seemed interested in guys before this."

"I never really thought about wooing guys before this," Luke confirmed. "But it… it was more than me just like, not minding it. It made me feel good."

Good, and not just cool. The girls cheering at their gigs made Luke feel cool, made him feel energized and alive and like his music meant something, but seeing Reggie like that- it hit in a different way.

Bobby spent a few idle moments carding his fingers through Luke's hair, likely thinking things over. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Regardless of um- that, you can't mess with Reggie, Luke."

Luke knew. He did. Even if Reggie didn't talk about his home situation, they'd pieced together enough clues over the years. The secondhand clothes, the dark bags under his eyes, the missed meals. The way he flinched if they raised their voices too loud in an argument, the way he'd alternate between desperately clinging to them and not being too close for fear of annoying them away or something. Reggie's home life was messed up in its own way, and as a band, they'd silently agreed that they'd only ever build Reggie up. They weren't going to add anymore hurdles to his life, and Luke's stupid fixation on earning a flushed reaction from their chemistry definitely qualified as such.

"I know," Luke muttered, letting his head slump against Bobby's shoulder. "What if I try to do it like subconsciously though, at rehearsal or something? What if I make things weird?"

That was the last thing Luke wanted to do for any of them, not when he loved his bandmates so much. They were all the crazy talented and super cool – they deserved the world, and one day, Luke was going to give it to them.

Luke sighed, pressing his lips together. He needed a plan. "I just need to get it out of my system," Luke decided. "Do it with Julie or something or…"

Bobby probably figured it out around the same time he did – actually, he'd probably figured it out before the conversation had even started, because Bobby was smart like that.

"No," Bobby sighed, but it was his resigned sigh, like he was putting up a token protest.

Immediately, Luke perked up, lifting his head to stare Bobby in the eye. "Please, Bobbert?" he asked, shifting so he could straddle Bobby's lap properly. It was a little awkward, but he made do. It wasn't anything they hadn't done before. "Please? I'll do my homework without complaint for a week. Two weeks," he hastily added. "And um- I won't let Flynn pick so many fights."

"You like those fights," Bobby sighed, his hand dropping to stabilize Luke's hips the way he always did.

"But I like good um- interpersonal dynamics better," Luke settled on, mentally celebrating the fact that one of his dumb vocab words had actually come in handy. "Let me chemistry you."

"What makes you think it's even possible?" Bobby asked, quirking a brow at him.

It was like he hadn't watched the argument happen at all.

"That a challenge, Bobbles?" Luke asked, grinning wide as he snuggled forward. "I got a spark in me, hands up if you can see-"

"That's Julie's song," Bobby pointed out.

"I helped her write it," Luke huffed. He didn't negotiate song credit and royalty percentages for nothing. If Julie's band got famous before Sunset Curve, he'd use the money to fund their demo, probably make some shirts. Maybe get Reggie that leather jacket he's been eying. "Bobbin, please, I need to be Finally Free."

"Fine," Bobby huffed. "Chemistry me."

"Thank you," Luke said, and maybe Bobby took a bit longer to work up than Reggie, but that just made the blush he earned feel all the more worth it, and if he leaned forward to dust those cheeks with chaste kisses while Bobby squawked, that was Luke's reward in itself.

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Endnotes:

Hey, guys! This is my first time writing for Julie and the Phantoms, but I just binge watched the show and thought it was a pretty good time, so I couldn't help but dive in and give writing for it a shot.

I've seen a lot of takes on the chemistry scene from Reggie's POV, but I thought it would be fun to explore Luke's side of things. Of course, everyone's alive because the idea of them being dead makes me sad, so yeah, modern AU – everyone's friends. Because I just can't not ;D

This story will consist of 3 chapters of story content. I update once a week, on Sundays.

Story notes:

This take on Luke's parents doesn't really line up with the show canon, but that's mostly for the sake of angst. I was honestly surprised by the amount of Luke angst I have in the tank, but apparently he's a character that really speaks to me. Having a relationship with his parents that is almost entirely antagonistic fits those needs better, but for the record, I do like their canon versions.

No shade against Strawberry Milkshake pop tarts. I looked up a list of available flavors and went with what I thought the most outlandish one was. That seemed like a flavor of unique only Luke would really like :)

I can't find another last name for Bobby, so he's just going to be a Wilson for now.

Until next time :)