Title: "Move Like Jagged"

Author: Veritas Found

Rating: T / PG-13 / Teen

Characters/Pairings: Jagged Stone, Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Summary: Luka's been a little down lately. Anarka has just the thing to cheer her boy up: the last surviving copy of Jagged Stone's 1980s workout video, Move Like Jagged. Now with 100% more Lycra.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes/Warnings: So this was written for the 5/12-5/19 LBSC Sprint Challenge, using the prompt "Neon Colors" and inspired by some bullshitting from an AU that the Disco knows about but the rest of y'all have to wait for. xD (Um…I feel like I should apologize to Adam Levine/Maroon 5. I'm not sorry, but I'm sorry. xD) SLIGHT 04x01 "Truth" spoilers (in the "is that even a spoiler anymore" category). These kids I swear.

Just a reminder: LBSC Sprint Challenge Guidelines: Three 15-minute sprints to write/draw. 24 hours to edit/post. My 24 hours got spread out over like three days because of Life, but it still counts. xD

(For the Pit readers…you might want to check this out either on my Tumblr or the Archive. There's a picture involved. xD)

"Move Like Jagged"

Luka blinked at the old VHS tape the Captain had just handed him. He didn't even think they made these things anymore, though he was sure there was a TV with a VHS player somewhere aboard the boat he could play it on. His ma was eclectic like that – she held onto a lot of weird old shit for a lot of weird old reasons. And if that failed, maybe the AV club at school still had one?

But that still didn't explain why she had just handed him an old VHS with the title of a Maroon 5 song scrawled on a piece of masking tape on its casing. He looked up at her, lifting an eyebrow, and she patted his shoulder.

"Ye've been a bit…" she paused, pursing her lips and considering her words. She didn't want to say depressed, because he hadn't been, not really, even though it did feel like the most appropriate word. "…despondent lately. Thought ye could use with some cheering up."

She snapped her fingers, and his frown deepened as she grinned at him.

"Why don't ye call yer lass over? Marinette?" she asked, and his stomach churned a bit at the mention of his…ex-lass. "I think she'll enjoy that, too."

"What even is it?" he asked, looking back at the tape. She tossed him another wink and turned, wiggling her fingers as she made her way above deck.

"Just watch it, m'b'y!" she called. He looked back at the tape and frowned.

The Captain was so weird.

– V –

Thirty minutes later, Luka was sitting in the common area, gawking at the television screen. It hadn't taken him as long as he'd thought to find something to play the tape on, but figuring out how to hook it up had been an exercise in and of itself.

…exercise.

Heh.

He paused the tape, choking down a laugh at the cheesy grin it had frozen on, and pulled out his phone. A moment later, Marinette picked up.

"…hello?" she asked, and he hated how uncertain she sounded. He remembered not that long ago when she would've sounded so excited to hear from him. He swallowed against the reminder and shook his head, refusing to get distracted by…

"Marinette," he said, still grinning, "I need you to drop whatever you're doing and get over to the boat right now."

"…ok?" she said hesitantly. "Are…is everything all right, Luka? Are you ok?"

"I am great," he said, trying not to laugh – or at least trying not to laugh too much. "I am so great. I just…please come over. You will never believe what Ma gave me. You have to see this. Oh my God, Marinette. I'm…please come over."

"Ok?" she said, but this time she was laughing a little, too. "Um…I was just doing some homework. Give me maybe fifteen minutes?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

Except for above deck, where he met her a little under fifteen minutes later. She had barely greeted him, had barely crossed onto the boat, when he was grabbing her hand and practically dragging her below.

"Luka!" she laughed, and he shot her a manic grin over his shoulder. It was so good to see her smiling again – to hear her laughing like that. Because of something he did. He squeezed her hand, and her smile warmed. "What on earth's gotten into you?"

"Ma's been holding out on me," he said. "Marinette, it's beautiful."

"What is?" she asked. He led her over to the couch, where he stopped and turned towards her. He took both her hands in his own and squeezed. She was still smiling at him, her expression a little baffled but still happy. He leaned in, his grin still splitting his face.

"You thought Crocodile Heart was good," he said. Her eyebrows rose, and he laughed. "Marinette, did you know Jagged Stone made a workout video in the eighties?"

"…what."

"You can't make this stuff up," he said, shaking his head. A crazed little giggle escaped her, and his grin widened to shit-eating levels, he was sure.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No way. He did not. Luka, stop lying!"

"C'mon," he said, tugging her down to the couch with him. He picked up the remote and hit play, and Marinette's eyes widened to the size of saucers as the jaunty '80s pop – pop! He couldn't even use rock! – music started playing.

"Oh. My. God," Marinette gasped as an inverted neon triangle appeared on the screen, neon cursive spelling out Move Like Jagged writing over it. Her hands clapped over her delighted grin as Jagged appeared in bright neon Lycra, moving his legs (covered in his signature black and gold stripes and fuzzy purple leg warmers) in a series of high kicks as about eight people – all dressed garishly in more neon Lycra – moved behind him. He had a frickin' mullet. The back was tied back into a rat tail, but it was definitely a mullet. "I'm dead. I got hit by a car on my way over, and I'm dead. This is not real."

"This is so real," Luka said, shaking his head as a young Jagged went through his introduction. He pointed to a woman with a long, lilac braid and thick red glasses in the back. "That's my mother, Marinette."

"Oh my God!" she squealed, bouncing in her seat as she recognized the Captain. "Luka!"

And then Jagged was singing one of his early singles, and dancing around the studio, and the others were moving with him as the pop rock blared in the background. It was horrible. It was glorious. It was…

"…Luka," Marinette said, turning wide eyes on him. He grinned at her. "Where did…why did…"

"Ma thought I could use some cheering up," he said, nodding towards the screen. "I…honestly, I think she just wanted to humiliate Jagged. Or make me feel better about…apparently he's spent the better part of twenty years chasing down every single copy of this tape and burning them. Ma's pretty sure she has the only surviving copy."

"Luka," Marinette gasped, as if she was just realizing something important. She grasped his arm, squeezing tightly as she shook. He was reminded of Rose, or an over-excited puppy. "Luka. The title of the tape – Move Like Jagged – that's…it's…the song, Luka."

Luka's eyes widened as she started singing the chorus to Maroon 5's Moves Like Jagged.

"You don't think…" she said, looking back at the exercise tape. Jagged was twirling, shimmying his purple-Lycrad ass at the camera in an almost painful close-up. (The whole thing was painful: Luka was pretty sure he'd never be able to burn the image of Jagged Stone's Armpit Hair out of his mind.)

"…you think they knew about this?" he asked. His eyes widened as he turned back to her. She looked horrified.

"Oh my God, Luka, Jagged killed Adam Levine," she gasped.

He blinked at her, trying to connect the dots. Just because the title was practically the same – Moves versus Move – didn't mean…but as soon as that song had dropped, Jagged had invited them on tour with him…except the private jet carrying four of their seven members had crashed en route to the first venue, killing everyone on board…it had been tragic, but it had also been just an accident. No way Jagged would have…could have…but the Captain had said he'd done everything within his power to destroy every copy of the tape.

…including murder?

"…it was a plane crash, Marinette," Luka said, though he didn't sound very sure. "It…no. No way Jagged orchestrated…"

"They made his workout tape a tribute song and he killed him for it," she said, and a beat passed between them.

"ROCK! IT! OUT!" Young Jagged screamed from the TV, and then they were bagging up and collapsing against the couch. Jagged was a lot of things (rock legend, flake, deadbeat dad…), but he definitely wasn't a murderer. The very idea was ridiculous! Luka was laughing so hard his sides hurt, but it was all worth it when he looked down and found Marinette had wiggled her way against his chest, her face pressed against his shirt as she gasped for breath.

"…oh my God," he laughed, squeezing his arms around her in a tight hug – and when had he started hugging her? God, he'd missed that. He'd missed her. He'd missed that ease of familiarity they had around the other. They'd lost that, ever since…but he pushed those thoughts aside, preferring to stay in the moment. Where they were happy and laughing and them. She peeked up at him from his chest, and he grinned down at her. "My dad killed Adam Levine."

And then she was laughing again, and it was all just so ridiculous. He glanced back at the TV to see Jagged was lying on a pedestal and kicking his legs into the air while sparks and glitter cannons rained down on him. God, he looked like such an ass. His Ma was right: he did feel better after this. Worlds better.

Eventually, their laughter died off, and soon they were just…ok. They were cuddling. They were definitely cuddling. But he wasn't all that eager to move, and she didn't seem to be either, and if drawing her attention to the fact that she was curled up against his side half-lying on his chest with her arms wrapped around him was going to make her move…he was ok leaning back against the couch, holding her as they watched the tape play out. Her head was tucked beneath his chin, and his thumb was rubbing absently against her arm. It was…nice. It was really nice.

He'd missed this.

"Thanks for calling me," she said after a long while. "I really needed this, Luka."

"I wouldn't share it with anyone else," he chuckled. She moved back enough to look up at him, a smile teasing at her lips, and suddenly he was entirely too aware of how close she was. Her eyes locked on his, and then dipped down to his mouth, and then…he wasn't sure what happened next exactly. Who moved first.

All he knew was that one moment he was sitting on the couch, cuddled up with Marinette as they laughed at his father's over-the-top workout video.

And the next…they were kissing.

…ok.

They were more than kissing. They were making out. They were definitely making out.

Her fingers were in his hair, and she made a little mewling sound as his hand cupped the back of her head and the arm around her waist pulled her closer – except she was already pressing herself against him, trying to crawl into his lap. She tugged on his hair, and he gasped – and then her tongue was brushing against his own. Her movements were slow and uncertain at first, but she grew more confident when he groaned and met her kiss for kiss. When they gave as much as the other took, reminding themselves how much they had wanted this – wanted each other – in the first place, and why had they called it quits again?

There was a little voice in the back of his head that whispered how he needed to stop this, to push her away before they went too far and things got even more complicated – because they had called it quits, and as far as he knew that hadn't changed, and this was only going to hurt worse when she ran away and decided she never wanted to come near him again. But he had an armful of Marinette who seemed more than happy to make out with him, and he kindly told that voice to shut the hell up.

When she finally did pull back – because like hell was he going to be the one to end it – she blinked at him with hazy eyes, her kiss-bruised lips slightly parted and her panted breath warm against his face. Before he could second-guess himself, he darted back in and pecked her lips one last time. Her grip tightened on his neck, and she whimpered as she leaned into him.

"Luka…" she whispered.

"I know I should apologize," he sighed, brushing his nose against hers, "but I'm really not sorry."

"…I kissed you," she breathed, and then the reality of the situation seemed to slam into her. Her eyes popped open, and her face burned. He could feel the warmth on his own cheeks. He tried to ignore the dread curling in his stomach, the Knowing that told him she was about to run. "Oh my God. I kissed you!"

"Not complaining," he said, rubbing his thumb on her arm. "Really not complaining. Really not gonna fight you if you wanna do it again."

"…I really do," she whispered, and didn't that just surprise the hell out of him. He was surprised at how quickly the doubt turned into joy, even if it was a slightly hesitant joy. He smiled at her, but instead of kissing him she tightened her arms around him. She pressed her face against his neck, and he couldn't help but notice how it felt wet. "I've missed you so much, Luka."

"…yeah," he sighed, squeezing her closer. "Same."

"Nothing's changed," she mumbled. "I still don't…"

"Nothing's changed here, either," he said when she trailed off, unsure or unwilling to put into words what she still didn't. "I still love you."

She was quiet for a long moment, and then: "…I still love you, too."

The smile she gave him was uncertain. He kissed her again, to try and reassure her.

"I'm still not going anywhere, either," he whispered against her lips. Her smile was more earnest when he pulled back. He nodded towards the TV. "…wanna watch it again?"

"…wanna pretend we're watching it again and make out instead?" she asked, and he laughed as he hugged her tight. She giggled as he pressed his face against her shoulder, her hands back at the nape of his neck and playing with the hair there. She pecked a kiss against his jaw, which led to one against his lips, which led to…

The TV had been on a blank blue screen for a while by the time Juleka came home and caught them, though neither were very apologetic when she chucked a pillow at them and shouted, "Gross!"