"So, a snake walks into a bar."
"Okay."
"And the bartender goes, how'd you do that?"
They sat together on their random rooftop rendezvous spot.
The cat's eager, luminous eyes dug into his brain, the expression almost pleading and Luka was just buzzed enough to think a few things that were not nearly as dorky and wholesome as silly puns.
Given his typical smooth rhythm, a little grin from Luka was enough to have Adrien preening at his success to the tune of the overplayed Flight of the Bumblebees (So damn frustrating when it won talent competitions just because everyone knew it).
Luka downed some coke from the half empty cup at his side to quench a snort. Overplayed, but still enough to make you laugh.
"But clearly I'm the snake in this joke. I can't tend bars when I don't have any hands." Luka leaned into his lyre, propped up against his knee as he reached for another slice of vegetarian pizza from the box that his fellow hero had plopped down on the rooftop next to him roughly ten minutes earlier.
"True," Chat granted with some regret and then mulled over the terrible quandary that was Luka's future, tapping at his chin in thought before scowling at his greasy fingers and grabbing a wad of napkins to clean them off.
"When it comes to long-term career plans, you could always become an accountant." Chat mopped up a little dollop of sauce and grease under his jaw. "That's really dry, soul crushing work. Seems like it's right up your alley if you want to be a respectable member of society."
"That does sound suitably horrifying, but I don't think that I have the training for it, and I'm not looking to spend years in Uni." He didn't have the time to devote to caring for his mother and sister while getting a "real" education, even a trade. Low-skilled labour was the best that he could look for, and no way in hell was he getting government assistance. Being beholden to the government was the antithesis of liberty.
"Education? Are you serious?" Chat stuck out his tongue, face pinched up like he was going to vomit. "You don't need that. You're already a great adder."
Luka huffed at the wiggling blond who was grinning wide at his own joke.
"I was always too focused on multiplication to get the skills I'd need." Was that too flirty a pun? Was it really that he was just looking for something easy and silly and using Chat for that?
That dismissive flick of Chat's claws was like a kitten pawing at the air.
"Of course a guy like you would get a lot of practice running through his multiplication tables." His fingers snapped, and his chest puffed with pride in a way that Luka only now realized was kind of adorable as he struggled to blot out the sound of the sweetest song that he could no longer play.
"You could always look into government work." Adrien kicked his heels against the edge of the roof and dug out a fry from the bottom of the small bag they'd been sharing, poking the droopy potato wedge in Luka's direction. "You'd be a great civil serpent."
"Speaking of soul crushing."
"Yep." Chat popped the fry into his mouth and offered the remainder of the bag to him.
"How about in your industry? Think you could find me a job at Agreste Designs?" Viperion accepted the dubious present, partially translucent with fat, and frowned to find it empty. At his glare, Chat just wiggled his brow.
How did Marinette ever stay mad at that dork, especially when the melody playing underneath those puns and meaningless flirts was more often than not I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry?
Luka sighed, crumpling the bag in mock disgust. "I could do paper work."
"Oh, no. You'd get snapped up in a second by our designers."
"What?" Viperion scoffed. "As a pin cushion?"
Chat blew him a raspberry, clapping his shoulder playfully with a swing of his baton, fumbling because it was slick with pizza grease.
And that pizza had been really, really greasy, especially Chat's meat-lovers half. If you're going to blow your diet, Luka presumed, you might as well go all the way.
"No. As a model. You'd be perfect for the upcoming summer collection."
That was a setup, clearly. Why not? Luka schooled his expression, keeping his hands tight on his lyre for stability. "Oh? Why's that?"
"You'd look pretty cute in a pythong." Adrien framed Luka's midsection with his fingers, like he was aiming a camera, then angled lower with a suggestive wink. "Very sexy."
"My God. It never ends, does it?" Still, a little buttering up and flattery after a bad breakup was nice to hear. At least it wasn't his appearance that had turned Marinette off.
No. It was the fact that he wasn't going anywhere with his life, which meant that he was a burden. After a lifetime of only twenty-two years spent trying to lift the weight from others' shoulders, it was strange for him to be something she had grown tired of carrying.
It was a surprise to wake up one day at 5:00 to start your deliveries, slogging and sweating while bolstering your spirits with the thought of an evening date you'd been squirreling away money to pay for over the last month, only to find that you were a layabout without plans or career prospects or – or anything because he'd given all of that up to make sure that Juleka was raised properly. That she had those chances.
"I'm terrible. I know." Chat shook his head as if ashamed of himself, stretching his arms into the air.
"Thanks for that, by the way."
"Being terrible?"
Luka snorted. "For trying to lift my spirits. It helps."
The tip of Chat's baton twirled between his fingers in a slow roll, keeping him occupied, gaze to his lap while he mulled.
Luka scooped up some napkins to clean his gloves and took the time to crumple up the few waxy paper cups and other detritus and stuff it into the now empty box, trying not to appear overly interested in Adrien's response.
A kind of cool curiosity overtook him as he wondered what Adrien might be mulling over so thoroughly. His heartsong was a muddle, low-tuned string instruments whose quivering notes flitted about too soft and quick to be teased apart.
Leaning back to stare up into the dull sky, cloudless but tinted a hazy orange blue by the city lights around them that washed out the stars, he tried to put himself into the other man's mind. Adrien was probably just trying to find something to say to a soulful guitarist who was good for a teenage fling, and nothing more.
Ugh. Even his inner monologue was spiteful.
That wasn't fair, of course. Marinette had always made her feelings clear, and it wasn't his fault that she never really loved him the way he did her. If things hadn't worked out between her and Adrien, why should he have been any different?
But he was a snake who'd just been dumped. A little venom was in order.
"I don't really have many friends, Luka." Adrien's shoulders stooped. He was bent over his knees while his eyes followed the slow, easy rocking of his boots. "I- I just want to make sure that I can do everything I can to help the people who matter. Even if that's just being silly."
"It's not."
"Oh?" Chat's response was a whine. It was so easy, Luka realized, for Adrien to tumble into sore points, a dozen little depressive triggers that could consume him in a moment, especially when he struggled to play the happy clown. "It's not like I have any other meaningful skills."
"Of course you do." Luka reached out and, caught up by the glassiness of those green sclera, took Chat by a gloved hand. Sitting down, they were nearly the same height, although a growth spurt had left Adrien taller when they stood.
"In addition to your business skills and all the talents of Paris' premiere male superhero, you're also very sweet and considerate. I'd probably be halfway through my fifth bottle of cheap beer at this point, working myself up to a hangover if not for you."
Adrien shifted, and it was actually a surprise to see that blush that Luka might have noticed only because he was a little flush with alcohol.
Adrien didn't take compliments well, but he did take them adorably.
"It's gotta be the cheap bear," Adrien scoffed, withdrawing his hand to lay it on his lap.
"Oh, yes. It adds to the aesthetic. Not like you rich people with your champagne and ... uh. What's an expensive wine?"
Was that going to far? Was it a joke or a needle? Luka was normally better at reading people.
"You're asking me?" Chat replied, baffled.
"Okay, then something that sounds incredibly pretentious," Luka offered with a grimace. The surrealism of sharing seven-euro pizza with a multi-millionaire hit him again. Marinette wasn't in the least materialistic, but he had been a downgrade from the way Adrien must have dinned her if not wined her.
That kind of thinking might have been due to the three beers that he'd managed to pound back before Adrien had tracked him down and drug Viperion off for a run and rooftop pizza party with soda rather than cheap beer that was only useful in getting you drunk.
An end in itself sometimes.
"But it was nice not to get blackout drunk, and pizza is always a nice touch, even if you did hog all the fries."
"And it helped?" Now, Adrien was a bashful child, eyes flicking towards the city beyond. "Really, I mean?"
He was really asking if he had helped, letting the real Adrien shine through.
"It's going to take a while to get over Marinette, but, yeah, Adrien. It did."
"Yeah, I get that." That regretful smile, unabashed and unashamed and beautiful not just because of the pearly teeth – though his pink lips were greasy – but because Adrien was able to actually show it, reminded Luka of why Adrien had been weaved so tightly into Marinette's heartsong that no composer could have ever found a way to tease out a melody that made sense without him.
As skilled as he was in falling into pits and divots in the road, Adrien was better at banishing dour thoughts, likely because he'd had so much practice. Luka couldn't help but laugh and shove the cat so hard that he nearly tumbled off the roof when Adrien pulled up his "Marinette breakup playlist" on his baton.
They sang karaoke, supplemented by Luka's lyre, while following along with the lyrics on Chat's baton, starting with the Righteous Brothers' You've Lost That Loving Feeling, for the next hour.
While watching the blond's wild shock of hair flaring in a little gust of wind as he yowled out, "Bring back that lovin' feelin' cause it's gone, gone, gone. Whoa-oh!" his eyes tight but smile wide, Luka decided that it wasn't so bad to lose the tune when you found a new melody to sing, even if it was a breakup song.
Author's Notes
My first unserious attempt to write Lukadrien is likely to be quite lighthearted, though we will see some attempt at exploring Luka. A simple and straightforward story is really a means for me to try to grapple with his voice, while also indulging my lizard brain with some easy fluff.