AKA The tatami mat story

Today's story is by MalcomReyolds.

Author's Note: MR here. So several of us were having a discussion about the state of the Couffaines' finances based on the fact that Luka has tatami mats in his room. (HIGHLY impractical on water) and, well… this happened. And you know what? I'm not even sorry.

Lyra: You should be. This looks like a Lukanette story! :P (I'm joking. I'm joking. - mostly. #adrienetteforlife )


Luka Couffaine was rich. Not in the 'buy your own sports team' kind of rich, but at 16, his savings account was almost at seven figures, and that was something. Not that you'd know it to look at him. He always wore the same hoodie, his most comfortable jeans were all ripped, and he still shared a room with his sister. Not in a creepy way, just in a 'we don't have much space' kind of way. His mother was a genuine rock star, retired now, and while his father had chosen life on the road over parenthood, the checks that he sent every month went straight into his and Juleka's bank account.

His mother was always willing to indulge him in esoteric instruments that they didn't already own, although he'd been surprised at the sheer variety that she had stashed away around the ship. He'd been going through a George Harrison phase when his mother walked by one day and handed him a sitar. She'd nodded brusquely, informed Luka that the sitar's name was Ravi and that he preferred to be surrounded with organic materials and couldn't stand ukuleles, before walking out of his room.

While the wooden planks of the boat were technically organic, Luka figured the amount of paint and preservative in them probably nullified that status, so he went out looking to find something for his room. While he indulged in very little for himself (it was just stuff, he didn't really need it) most of his money he put away in the bank.

He spent quite a bit of time researching wall and floor coverings, and fell in love with Japanese tatami mats. He didn't realize the drawbacks, though, until he was too far gone, and wouldn't consider anything else on his floors.

They were expensive, and they rotted quickly when wet, but Luka fell in love with them, and was the only thing that he really threw money away on. He replaced them way more often than he'd like, but loved the feel and the smell of them, so they stayed, long after the sitar was relegated back to its dark cabinet.

So, Luka grumbled to himself, as he rode his five-year-old bike around the city, he didn't really need to be delivering pizzas, but his mom insisted that he get a real, non-music-related job so that he could learn responsibility. He had to admit that most days it wasn't too bad. He was out in the fresh air, and had plenty of time to himself, time to work on his latest compositions in his head.

When the weather was terrible he didn't enjoy it, but he let the rudeness of some customers slide off his back. He got to meet all kinds of interesting people, and the polite ones far outweighed the nasty ones.

That evening, he had one more delivery: to someone staying at the Grand Paris Hotel. He was given a room number, as well as being known by the doorman, he'd delivered there, frequently. Juleka was at the hotel that evening for some kind of fancy evening she'd been invited to. She'd been invited to several of these, now that her modeling career was taking off, and she was losing some of her shyness in person as well as in front of the camera.

He entered the lobby, two boxes in hand, and scanned the room. Sometimes the person came down to wait for him, so he always checked before heading to the elevator. His eyes locked onto the most gorgeous pair of sky blue eyes he'd ever seen. Walking towards him, she was an absolute vision in a stunning pink dress, that appeared to be hand-stitched by one of the top designers. She was exquisite, but didn't quite have the look of a runway model. She was tiny, even in heels, and she moved nervously, rather than confidently. Her dark hair hung in a curtain around her shoulders, brushing tantalizingly at the pale, lightly freckled skin of her shoulders.

When a small blush started to stain her cheeks, he realized he'd just been standing there, staring at her, and hastily tried to say something to make the situation less awkward. Unfortunately, that's not what came out of his mouth. "Am I the one you've been waiting for?" He blushed slightly as her face went brilliantly red, and he hastened to correct his mistake. "I mean, did you order a pizza?"

She smiled brilliantly at him, then jumped as an arm dropped around her shoulders. Attached to the arm was a blonde boy with brilliant green eyes, who looked vaguely familiar. Luka shook off the surprising amount of disappointment he felt that this girl he'd seen for all of 20 seconds was taken, but his heart still sped up when he heard her sweet laugh, and her voice, as she confirmed that the pizza delivery was not for her.

He shrugged and was turning towards the elevators, when the boy's voice stopped him. "You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Murmuring his agreement, Luka cocked his head towards the party. "You guys from there?" Nodding the blonde boy affirmed that they were.

"My father's party." He acknowledged with a sigh, and held out his hand. "Adrien Agreste. Nice to meet you."

Luka's eyes lit in recognition. "Luka Couffaine. My sister, Juleka, is one of your father's models."

Adrien beamed up at him. "That's where I've seen you! You've come to pick her up a couple of times."

Nodding, Luka gestured to the elevators. "Well, if these aren't yours, I'd best be finding the person who did order them. I hope you and your girlfriend have a great night."

He turned, but not before seeing the girl blush and hand her head, and Adrien snatch his had back as if burned. "Oh. She's not my girlfriend. We're just really good friends."

Not trusting his voice at that moment, as the rock that had lodged in his stomach the moment Adrien materialized suddenly vanished, Luka merely nodded, holding up his free hand with a wave, and scuttling towards the elevators.

Once he'd completed his delivery, he pressed his forehead to the cool interior of the stairwell, struggling to control his swirling emotions. He was going to have to ask Juleka about… that girl. He groaned, bumping his head against the wall, realizing he never even got her name.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to fix his hair and straighten his shirt, before chuckling to himself at the ridiculousness of the situation. What excuse did he have to go talk to her, anyway? He opened the door, and stepped out into the completely deserted lobby. He glanced over to the doors leading into the ballroom where the party was being held, but they were closed, and he couldn't catch a glimpse of anybody.

Shrugging, he texted his boss, who told him to just head on home, that he'd clock Luka out for the night. Luka sent him his thanks, and clambered back on his bike, snapped his helmet in place, and pedaled slowly back towards the boat his family called home.

The next day, he casually asked Juleka about the party. She happily chatted about the people she'd met, and connections she'd made, and the clothing she had seen. One of her favorite designers seemed to be someone called MDC, who had promised to make Juleka a dress. Apparently MDC was a girl about Juleka's own age who had a knack for bringing out a person's inner beauty through her clothing. She didn't have her own label, and was interning under Gabriel Agreste, but it was the general consensus that it was only a matter of time before she became one of the biggest names in the fashion industry.

The designer had naturally created her own dress for the party and had caught the interest of anyone who hadn't previously heard of her. She'd worn pink, and rumor had it that Adrien had refused to leave her side all night, whispering in her ear who she should or should not talk to. Gossip Mongers were saying that Adrien was looking out for Gabriel's best interests, but anyone who knew the younger Agreste knew about the strain between father and son, and could see the interest he had in the young designer was much more personal.

Luka's eyes narrowed a little at that, having seen the lightly possessive way he'd thrown his arm around the girl, but hastened to correct him when Luka had referred to the girl as Adrien's date. There was definitely a story there. Giving Juleka a heavily edited version of their encounter, he looked up when she remained silent.

"What?" He asked when she just sat there, giving him a look.

"You did it again, didn't you? You went and fell for someone you know nothing about." She took in her brother's soft face, slight blush and completely unapologetic smile. "You KNOW how badly that turned out last time. She accused you of stalking, and threw your guitar. You stayed up half the night apologizing to it."

"Her. The guitar's name is Claire, and she's temperamental. She needed comforting."

Juleka sighed. "Her name is Marinette. She is the designer MDC, she's sweet and shy, but can be firey and bold as well. She's exactly the kind of girl you go for, but has the purest heart and if you do anything creepy, I swear, brother or not, I will hurt you."

Luka blinked at her a couple of times before shrugging. "It's not like I'm likely to meet her again, anyway. You're the one with an eye for fashion, not me." He gestured between them, both in their pajamas, hers were name brand shorts and a tank top combination, and his consisted of a pair of ratty sweatpants.

His sister laughed at him. "We both know you can clean up really well when you want to, and while you may not admit to it, you have a name brand, tailored suit hanging in your closet. And while you may have embraced the grunge look a little too wholeheartedly, that doesn't mean you can't look nice. You know. If you put in any effort at all."

Sticking his tongue out at Juleka far enough to show off the teal stud in his tongue, he was rewarded with her pillow being thrown at his face. They ended up laughing together, collapsed on the tatami mats of Luka's room. "Why do you even have these things, anyway?" She asked, brushing the flooring. "You have to buy new ones, practically every year!"

"I like it. It's comfortable. And I have to buy new ones all the time, because they don't like humidity. But it's not every year." He rolled his eyes at his sister. This was a conversation they'd had many times, but he didn't mind. He had a name to go with his daydreams. Marinette.


The next week, Juleka had her first meeting with MDC, for Marinette to work up some dress designs for Juleka. She was gone for several hours, and walked across the gangplank just as Luka was about to head to work. His sister had a shit-eating grin on her face, and she daintily waved her fingers at him as she called in a sing-song voice, "have fun at work tonight" before blowing him a kiss and quickly slipping below deck.

A knot of anxiety pooled in his stomach, worry about what Juleka might have said or done while she was there, but he put it out of his mind, as he pedaled around the city, daydreaming of spending time with Marinette when he didn't smell like sweat and pizza. He pulled up outside a bakery, double-checking the address. He'd been inside a few times, and had loved the place, both for the food, and for the patissier who was a giant of a man who would sing while he baked, and the tiny woman who made everyone feel at home the moment they stepped through the door.

The lights inside were off, but he rang the bell, and heard a clatter from behind the counter as the light turned on, illuminating the inside of the bakery. A small figure with two dark pigtails darted around the counter and crossed to the door. As it opened, he was shocked to see Marinette standing there, this time in a pair of pink capris and a white t-shirt. Barefoot she looked even tinier than she had when she was in her ballgown.

Her luminous blue eyes looked up at him, her smile shy. When he didn't say anything, only stared, she started to blush and squeaked, "This time I was the one waiting for you!"

His mouth was dry, and he just nodded at her, holding out the pizza. A voice from behind the counter snapped him out of his daze. "You're right, Marinette, he is cute. Pity he doesn't seem to be all that bright."

"Alya!" Marinette was turning an attractive shade of pink, while Luka's mind latched on to a few of the new girl's words. She thinks I'm cute!

Marinette took the pizzas and handed them to Alya, grabbing a bag off the counter. "These are for Juleka. She asked for some of our purple macarons. And I threw in a couple of napoleons, because she said they were your favorite. She handed him enough money to cover the food, and stood there a little awkwardly when he still hadn't said anything.

He shook himself, knowing that he needed to say something, anything really, to break the silence that was dragging on a little too long. "Thank you." He smiled, holding up the bag. "Your music is gorgeous, just like you."

Face exploding into a bright blush, she looked at him wide-eyed. "My music?" She frowned, confused.

"Everybody has a song inside of them." He explained. "The music of their soul. Yours is the most beautiful melody I've ever heard."

Blushing more fiercely than ever, Marinette stammered out a thank you, while her friend grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled something on it, and walked over, thrusting it into his hand. "Don't lose that. Now… don't you have more deliveries to make?"

Luka nodded, and walked back to his bike. He heard giggles from inside, and Marinette asking, "What did you give him?" He didn't hear the reply, but did hear her cry "Alya!" in response to whatever her friend had said.

He pushed off and was several streets away, almost back at the restaurant when he stopped to open the paper. It had the name Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a phone number, and the words 'Call Her!' underlined several times. He immediately put the number into his phone, before folding the note carefully, and placing it in his wallet.

The rest of his evening followed in a daze, and he was back home before he quite realized it. Juleka smirked at the sight of him. "She did it, did she? Marinette? She was asking about you. Casually mentioned that she'd met my brother at the party, then asked all kinds of questions about you."

"Her friend gave me her phone number. I don't know if I should call her or not, though."

"Why wouldn't you? Call her up. Keep it simple though. Ask her to go see that band on Friday that you've been talking about for weeks. If that's too much take her out for a coffee. She lives on the stuff. She won't say no to coffee."

He went down to his bedroom, resting his bare feet on the tatami, grounding himself as he tapped on her number. After three rings she picked up, saying "hello?"

"Hi Marinette. It's Luka. Luka Couffaine. Juleka's brother?"

She squeaked, and he heard a crash, a few seconds of silence, before her friend's bark of laughter, then the rustle of cloth before her quick breaths. "I'm so sorry, Luka. I dropped the phone. Hi! How are you doing? Alya told me that she gave you my number."

"I'm good. Just got home from work. I-I was wondering if you wanted to come hear a band with me on Friday. They're local, but they are really good."

He could hear the smile in her voice as she answered. "I would love to."

They chatted for a few more minutes about the band and made a little light conversation. When they hung up, Luka flopped back on his bed, grinning to himself. Friday couldn't come soon enough.


Even though they'd been texting all week, Luka still felt nervous as he approached the entrance to the bakery. Marinette had suggested grabbing a coffee before the band, so they'd have a chance to sit and talk, and he agreed without hesitation. He'd worn his normal hoodie/jacket/band shirt combination over a pair of minimally ripped jeans, but when he saw her, he wished he'd dressed up more.

When she'd asked what kind of music the band played, and he'd reported that it was rock leaning towards metal, assuming that she was trying to align it with her musical tastes, not that she was planning her outfit around it. Opening the door, Marinette stepped into the sunshine, and Luka's breath caught in his throat. She wore black combat boots, black leggings, a red and black plaid skirt that stopped at mid-thigh, red tank top and black overshirt, with her hair piled on her head in a messy bun, tied up with a red ribbon.

She'd applied her makeup with a heavier hand than the other times that he'd seen her, and the effect was that her eyes looked bluer than ever. Eyes that were currently locked on his, a shy smile playing on bright red lips. "Is this alright?" She asked, indicating her outfit.

He nodded, and after clearing his throat a couple of times was able to tell her that she looked gorgeous. She blushed lightly, but her smile brightened, and she shyly held her hand out to him. He grasped it, lacing his fingers with hers, a lovesick smile on his face that he didn't think would be going anywhere for quite a while.

They chatted on their way to the cafe, Marinette asking him about his music, and what he played. Several times he caught himself reaching for a guitar that wasn't there, because his sister absolutely forbid him from taking his guitar on a first date, especially to see another band. He mourned its loss when Marinette expressed interest in hearing him play, but promised her he would play for her another time, and his heart soared when she seemed excited about another time.

Everything he learned about her made him fall a little further for her. He could watch the animated way that she spoke or watch her adorable facial expressions for hours. He loved just watching her talk about her passions, wondering how she would react if he just leaned over and kissed her.

They took the subway to the venue, a stage in a park, where people were already milling around. Luka pulled a blanket out of his backpack, spreading it on the ground. He sat down, patting the blanket next to him, and Marinette sat closer than he expected her to, leaning lightly up against him. Leaning back on his hands, one on the ground behind her, he grinned when she looked up at him, then rested her head on his shoulder. He lay his head against hers, and the smile he'd been sporting all night only grew.

Marinette at a concert was an experience. One that he would happily live a million times over, he just wished that he'd been in any way prepared. She spent the entire set on her feet, dancing and waving her arms. She happily screamed her admiration at the end of every song, and just radiated happy energy the entire night. At one point he stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her hips, just to keep her from wandering as her energy overflowed. She responded by leaning back against him while she swayed, and he had to close his eyes to fight the temptation to kiss her bare shoulder, her overshirt laying on the ground beside his hoodie and coat.

As they walked back to the bakery, Marinette's arm tucked through Luka's, she rambled excitedly about the concert and how much fun she'd had. They stopped by her front door, and Luka reached over to tuck an escaping strand of hair behind her ear, and his fingers lingered against her cheek. "Marinette, can I kiss you?"

She bit her lip and nodded shyly, and he leaned down to brush his mouth against hers. Fireworks went off inside him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. His free hand slid to her waist, and the one that had been in her hair cupped her cheek. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but Luka hoped that it was just the first of many. Next time, he decided, he would take her out as she deserved, and treat her like a princess.

He was broken out of his thoughts when Marinette spoke. "Can we do this again sometime?"

"Of course. I'll text you, OK?"

She smiled up at him, pulling him down for one more kiss, before slipping inside. He saw her watching him through the window, and he waved, then, shoving his hands in his pockets, headed back to the Liberty humming a new melody to himself.

He planned a much more formal second date, wanting to impress her, planning a dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by an evening at the opera. Juleka just shook her head at him. "You're going to be bored stiff all evening, and so is she. Why are you doing this, anyway? This isn't you."

Smiling at his sister, he shook his head right back at her. "She's amazing, Jule. I know this sounds crazy, but I can't screw this up. She's so incredible, I just want to impress her."

His sister quirked her eyebrow at him. "If you think throwing a bunch of money at her is going to impress her, then you don't know her as well as you think. What about a picnic in the park and you play for her? If you want to impress her, then be yourself. Not some snooty rich kid."

"But Jule, she's just so…" He broke off, frustrated that he couldn't find the words, instead, playing an achingly beautiful, delicate melody on the guitar. "And so far out of my league it's ridiculous, but I want to show her that I can give her the same things those rich guys like Adrien can." He ran his bare feet over the tatami, grounding himself in the sensation of it, trying not to let his emotions overwhelm him.

Juleka laughed. "Don't worry about Adrien. He'll tell anyone who'll listen that they're just friends, that he's not interested in her, only he watches her every movement when she's not near him like a drowning man. Marinette wants someone who is honest with her. That's why this won't work. It's not you."

"Opera is still music, you know, Sis. It may not be my favorite, but music always has a message for the listener; a story to tell."

"Fine." Juleka sighed, shaking her head at her brother's stubbornness. "But if there's no third date, don't say I didn't warn you."

Luka told Marinette to wear something fancy, like the dress he'd first seen her in, but refused to give her any more information, hoping to sweep her off her feet with the grandeur of their date. He dragged his suit out of the closet, noting that it was a little tighter than the last time he'd worn it across the chest and upper arms, but realized it was because he was more muscular than he'd been the previous spring, and it didn't look bad at all. He slicked his hair back, briefly debating having it cut, but ultimately decided against it. He removed all his bracelets, but kept the ring that he wore on his left index finger… the one that had been his father's wedding band, a ludicrously expensive onyx and platinum affair that his father had left behind along with the rest of them.

Luka didn't hold a grudge against him. The man had tried, but when he was forced to choose, the lure of the road and the music were just too strong. Instead, Luka wore the ring as a reminder to always live in the moment; to enjoy what he had while it lasted… however long that may be.

He rented a car and driver for the night so that Marinette wouldn't have to take the subway in heels, and they pulled up at her house a few minutes early. He knocked and was invited in by her mother, who smiled at him and introduced herself as Sabine. "Marinette's almost ready, dear. Come on up and I'll go check on her."

Waiting in the living area, Luka watched Marinette's mother walk up a set of stairs, and knock on a trap door. She disappeared inside but was back within minutes, trailed by a vision in teal. Marinette was dressed in a cocktail dress with a shimmery embroidery on it. The straps were wide satin ribbons of a darker teal, and the bodice was fitted through the waist before flaring out slightly over her hips. She wore silver heels and carried a silver purse.

Luka was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open and made every attempt to close it, before clearing his throat several times. "You look beautiful, Marinette," was all that he was able to choke out.

Still, she smiled at him sweetly, running one hand down his arm, although he couldn't remember when she'd come so close. "You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Couffaine." She teased. Blowing her mother a kiss, she grabbed her wrap, and they headed down the stairs.

He held the car door open for her, and she grinned at him. When he told her their plans for the evening, her smile seemed to waver for an instant, but when he blinked, it was as bright as ever. Their conversation over dinner was a little stilted, continually interrupted by waiters, bringing course after tiny course. Three bites of food on perfectly arranged plates. There was barely enough food on each plate for them to get a taste, and Luka was disappointed that they wouldn't be able to share.

The meal over, they made their way back to the car, where the conversation flowed more naturally, Marinette talking about her week at school, and asking how things were going with him. He told her a couple of funny stories from work, and one about a crazy assignment from his history teacher.

Marinette appeared nervous again when they arrived at the opera. Once they had found their seats, she confessed that this was her first time, and she wasn't really sure what to expect. Luka laughed, saying he'd been for the first time last year, as a class trip, and not to worry. It was just a fancy type of musical theatre. He reiterated what he'd said to his sister, that the music told a story, and whether she understood the words or not, the notes would guide her through.

She smiled and relaxed a bit at those words, leaning against his arm, until he lifted it, draping it across her back. His fingers started drawing lazy circles around her shoulder of their own accord, and she leaned as far into him as she could in the theatre seats.

The opera itself, Das Rheingold, was all in German, which neither of them spoke, and Luka could feel Marinette tensing back up as the evening wore on. He tried to let the music wash over him, telling its story, but his attention was drawn to the girl beside him.

Their ride back to the bakery from the opera house was a quiet one. Marinette still had her fingers laced with his but didn't really make any attempt at conversation. When they arrived at her house, he helped her out of the car. He walked her to the door and gently turned her to face him. He searched her eyes, surprised and a little hurt at the sadness he saw there.

"What's bothering you Marinette?" He asked, gently, a worried frown wrinkling his brow.

"Honestly?" She paused, taking a deep breath when he nodded. "If you're into all this fancy stuff, then maybe we aren't right for each other. Not that there's anything wrong with any of it, I'd just rather have a picnic in the park. Just the two of us. Not having to worry about which fork to use, or whether I'm going to spill something. The Luka who danced with me at the concert, and promised to play for me. That's the one I'm interested in. The person I hoped you were." She paused and looked into his ocean blue eyes. "Relationships are built on meaningful moments, not grand gestures. At least that's how I feel. I'm sorry."

Marinette kissed his cheek and turned to walk inside. Luka blew out his breath, muttered something that sounded like "Thank God" and then asked her to wait. Marinette turned back to him, hope in her eyes.

"This isn't me, either. I…" He blushed and looked away. "I just really wanted to impress you."

Laughing, Marinette smiled at him. "You know… playing that guitar you keep talking about would really impress me."

Tugging on his tie, something he'd wanted to do all evening but mostly restrained himself from, he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "I would really like that."

Looking him over critically, Marinette quirked a grin and blushed slightly. "While I have to admit that you look really good like this, will you take your tie off for me?"

He looked at her, confused, but complied with her request, holding the tie out to her. She ignored the offering, reaching into his hair, ruffling it up so that the slicked-back look more resembled his normal shaggy mop. Her face was already close to his when she met his eyes, still smiling, and asked, "Luka, can I kiss you?"

"Please…" He began, but her lips were on his before he could finish. They broke apart, only when breathing became absolutely necessary, and he rested his forehead against hers, realizing her hands were still in his hair, and he was gripping her hips. Luka relaxed his fingers slightly, and she made a sad little whimper that had her blushing and him chuckling.

"Come hear me play." He whispered, suddenly filled with an almost overwhelming need for her to hear him. "I have a gig tomorrow night. Please come."

She nodded, her fingers sliding out of his hair, one curled around the back of his neck, the other coming to rest on his chest over his heart. He was sure she could feel it pounding under her fingers, but he didn't care. There was something about Marinette that made him want to do just about anything for her.

Luka stroked her cheek. "It's late, I should probably get home." He grinned. "I need my beauty sleep… there's this gorgeous girl coming to hear me play tomorrow, and I want her to think well of me."

Pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, Marinette smiled, whispering as she angled her head to kiss him more fully. "I'm sure she will."