Step One

Friend, I mean I'll call you
in the daytime out in the open
friend, you know what I really mean
know exactly what I could be

Marinette woke with a pounding headache and feeling like she had tried to swallow a fistful of cotton. Without lifting her head or opening her eyes to the painful sunlight streaming into her room, she groped around the bed searching for her phone wanting to see the time and any messages she may have missed. Her hand hit something cool and metal before it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Marinette groaned before moving to crawl to the edge of her bed, and she poked her head over to stare down blearily at the phone she had just knocked off. The screen blinked 11:14am back at her.

Rolling onto her back, she picked up one of her many pillows and buried her face in it to muffle her tired moans. She hadn't gotten home until nearly three am last night, having had too much fun hanging out with friends she rarely got to see, as well as enjoying not having to buy a single drink thanks to both Nathaniel and Luka.

Luka . Fuck. The blue-haired man had stopped drinking about halfway through the night and had been sober enough to offer her a ride back to her parents so she didn't have to walk in the middle of the night or pay an exuberant taxi fee. And Marinette, sloshed and thought she was good at flirting Marinette, had agreed. She remembered quite vividly spending the entire ride home shamelessly feeling up Luka's toned chest, even going so far as to compliment him on his workout routine.

Marinette wanted her bed to swallow her whole at this very moment. Even if Luka had been sweet about the whole situation, politely doing his best to ignore her blatant molestation and not making any effort to take advantage of her in her inebriated state, she still felt mortified. Kicking her legs out in aggravation, she rolled back over to scoop up her phone and began scrolling through her messages.

One from her job asking her to cover an evening shift: delete . Another from Alya from earlier in the morning wanting to be sure that she had gotten home okay and was still alive. Marinette typed a quick confirmation to her, asking if she wanted to meet up in a few hours for a late lunch. Nathaniel had texted, long after she had already fallen asleep, thanking her profusely again for bailing him out and helping his boyfriend's band. Based on the number of typos and emojis in the message, he had still been quite drunk when he'd sent the message. Continuing to scroll, Marinette stopped on an unread message from a number she didn't recognize. With a curious tilt to her head, she clicked it open.

Hope your night wasn't too bad and you woke up not feeling like total shit! Last night was fun, hope we all get to hang out again.

She wasn't sure exactly who it had come from, but she could reasonably guess that Luka had gotten her number from his sister. Or sometime during the night inebriated Marinette had shared it herself. Regardless, she felt a shy smile stretching across her face. It was sweet of him to check in on her. Her phone started ringing abruptly. In a startled panic, Marinette almost dropped it again.

The screen flashed Nathaniel's name at her and she rushed to answer. How was this man even awake? He had texted her, still totally sloshed, no less than five hours ago. "Hello?" With pursed lips, Marinette listened to him ramble on, sounding like he hadn't slept at all. Apparently, the studio had news and wanted to meet the entire band that night at some restaurant to talk and meet some other people in the company.

"And get this, Luka insisted you be invited as well," Nathaniel told her smugly.

Marinette blinked in surprise, trying to process this new piece of information in her sleep-addled brain. "He what? Why would he do that?" She continued to listen to Nathaniel prattle on, managing to absorb at least every other word. Something about how her clothing had been a key component in their success? She wasn't sure, and she wasn't really sure that clothes had anything to do with them impressing the studio executives either. That had all been Luka in her opinion.

After confirming the time for a very late dinner - didn't executives ever eat at normal times? - at a restaurant on the more expensive side of Paris, Marinette hung up before letting her head flop back down on her bed. Her calm day had just become anything but. With a groan, she pulled herself out of bed and made her way into the bathroom, dropping articles of clothing as she went.


Marinette glanced at her watch for the third time in as many minutes. Alya was waiting for her at their favorite little corner cafe, and if she was much later she wouldn't have any time to spend with her best friend before Alya had to return to her job as a journalist. Watching the numbers tick down on the street crossing monitor, the dark-haired woman darted over the cross walk before it had barely ticked zero. She practically threw herself into the deck chair at their preferred table a few seconds later.

Alya, who had already been sitting there sipping an iced tea and scrolling through her phone, jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of her best friend. Shoving her phone back into her purse, the redhead leaned up on the table, smirking at Marinette while taking in her disheveled state.

"Well spill, how did last night go?" Leave it to Alya to get right to the meat and demand to know how the audition and night after had gone.

Marinette tilted her head and stared at the other woman in confusion, not exactly sure what she was talking about. The last time she remembered talking to Alya yesterday had been when she had shot her a text in the early evening telling her where she was going. At her questioning look, Alya dug her phone back out. She scrolled through her most recent messages before coming to the saved conversation she shared with Marinette. Peeking over, Marinette saw that whatever she had sent seemed to be filled with random letters and emojis that she did not remember sending. Unable to make out exactly what it said at this angle, she grabbed the phone out of her friend's hands and stared down at the enlarged text message in mortification.

Fucjc he's so ducking hot i cnsnf handle it. I wsnt to clibf his finde ass liekd s tre ? ゚ヘム? ゚ムナ?

Marinette felt her face heat up, steadily growing a rosy red as she processed exactly what she had sent. She glanced at the time stamp of the message; 2:25am . She wracked her brain, trying to remember snippets of her night. She desperately tried to remember exactly what she had been doing at the time of the message. Hell what had she been doing all night? It couldn't have been that bad if this morning Luka had willingly invited her to a dinner. . .right?

The dark-haired woman handed the phone back, a dejected slump to her shoulders. The text had been sent around the same time they had all been getting ready to leave. Luka had offered to give her a ride on his bike, and had been strapping the helmet she was using on her head while she giggled about something to him. He had been all patient smiles. He had wanted her to sit in front of him on the motorcycle, the position would have been slower going, but it would have been much safer for her. Unable to physically handle the idea of being sheltered in his embrace like that for an extended period or time, Marinette had insisted that she was much more sober than she had been.

The waiter came over to take their orders and Marinette took the opportunity to put off telling her friend just what had happened-or sadly what hadn't happened last night-for a moment longer. As soon as the waiter left, Marinette buried her face in her folded arms and mumbled out a response, even though she knew it wouldn't be enough for her nosy friend.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, Marinette." Damn her, Marinette could practically feel the smug smile Alya was undoubtedly wearing.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette straightened herself up before taking out her own phone to scroll through the saved pictures. Sometime during the night the entire band had insisted on taking a slew of pictures together, and for some reason they had included her. Luka had quietly asked her for one of just them, something about wanting a keepsake for when she was a famous fashion designer. Flabbergasted, she had agreed. Her feelings were clear as day in the photo, at least to her eyes. While she wasn't as red as she was right now, her cheeks still glowed. She had an almost shy smile on, nestled in the crook of Luka's arms while he took the picture for them. He looked so pleased with himself; he was wearing that soft smile that she adored.

Wordlessly, she handed over her phone to Alya, wincing at the volume the redhead squealed at upon seeing the picture. "Oh he is a handsome one. I can see why you wanted to climb all over him."

God, Marinette felt so mortified. She couldn't believe she'd actually thought, let alone typed, that. Not that it wasn't true, of course. Luka was extremely attractive, and given other circumstances she would have been all too happy to continue their acquaintanceship. Last night she hadn't thought she would ever see him again, and if so, only in passing whenever she hung out with Juleka. But apparently he still wanted to see her , if his insistence that she be included in this dinner was any indication. Or was it just an obligation? She had spent days making clothes for them, and now he felt indebted to her? Marinette felt her stomach sinking at the thought.

"So tell me about him," Alya finally said after handing her phone back over. She leaned back as the waiter came around with their food, watching Marinette as she struggled with her words for a few moments before deflating.

"He's Juleka's brother. He sings and plays guitar in the band." Marinette took a sulky bite out of her own salad, chewing for far longer than necessary without saying anything. A classic stalling tactic for when she either didn't want to say anything or when she was trying to figure out what to say. The redhead across from her continued to enjoy her own salad, probably knowing that Marinette wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut for long. Marinette knew if she didn't spill enough of the beans now, Alya would just go digging. And then who knew what she would find.

"We flirted okay? Like a lot," Marinette finally mumbled out, eyes locked on her food and cheeks steadily growing red again. "He's really sweet and so hot it should be goddamn criminal." Dropping her fork, the seamstress fell back in her chair, covering her face with her hands and groaning. She was now well into the over-sharing portion of her retelling. "And his ass was so fine. And his abs! Those biceps! He took his pants off in front of me for christ's sake!" Marinette lurched forward, feeling and looking distressed as her hands flailed around, as if she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do with them. "Who even has a body like that?!"

Sure, models and actual famous people had bodies like that. But that was also because they had workout trainers, nutritionists, and photoshop . Marinette had never met a person in real life that had a body she would have quite happily licked sweat from.

"Well if he flirted back, that's a good sign right?" Alya's question didn't get quite the reaction she had apparently been hoping for based on her confusion. Marinette just groaned louder and slumped further into her chair, salad long forgotten.

"Well yeah, I guess. But I doubt he'll even remember me after this dinner." They wouldn't have any reason to hang out together anymore. If the band got what they were hoping for out of this meeting, she wouldn't be seeing the others any time soon either, if ever again. In her experience, famous people tended to forget about the little people they knew before becoming famous.

Alya leaned over the table to gently pat at Marinette's arm in a placating gesture. "Look, everything will be fine," she said in a soothing voice. Marinette slowly extracted herself from the hole she had let herself fall into, going back to moodily eating her salad. "Maybe you've finally met your prince charming," the redhead continued. "Now, let me tell you all about what Nino did for our anniversary last week. . ."


It was nearing seven in the evening by the time Marinette was able to drag herself up to her loft bedroom to get ready for the dinner with the band and executives that night. After her late lunch with Alya, Marinette had spent the rest of the afternoon helping her parents out in the bakery, taking over the baking for a few hours while her parents took care of the front of house server. It had allowed her to bake a small box of macarons to give to Luka in thanks, without her nosy parents wondering just who she was baking for. She never went out of her way to bake anything herself for anyone when her parents were so much better at the craft. But she wanted the gift to be somewhat personal.

She hopped out of the shower twenty minutes later, feeling clean and tingly. Sitting at her vanity to blow dry her hair, Marinette regarded her open closet with a wary eye. What in the world could she even wear tonight? They were going to a very upscale restaurant on the expensive side of Paris. Sure she had nice clothing, especially those she had made herself, which she enjoyed wearing. But none of it would hold up to the standards at Les Papilles or the people she would undoubtedly be meeting there. With a sigh, she turned back to the mirror itself, beginning to apply her makeup for the night and hoping her color choices would inspire whatever she was going to pick to actually wear.

She chose a heavier liner and fuller lashes as her only daring choice of the night, finishing the rest in her preferred more subtle tones, before getting up to begin rifling through her clothes. A-line skirt? Next. Grecian style dress? Definitely not. The nice pant suit she had worn to her job interview? Think again. Her hand paused over a little black dress she had made a few weeks ago. Other than the ring of lace around the bottom pleats and the cap sleeves made entirely of bunched tulle, it was a rather plain dress. But it was cute; it was simple. And most of all, it wouldn't look totally out of place. It would have to do.

Marinette tugged the dress on after selecting undergarments, choosing to forgo any sort of stockings. After a quick perusal of her shoes, she selected a pair of shiny black heels with a bright red bow on the front. The red would be her pop of color, and she'd accent it with the small ruby drop necklace her grandmother had given her last time she'd visited. Marinette stared at herself in the mirror, turning left and right repeatedly, trying to judge how she looked from every angle. She had never worn this dress before, and she wanted to be absolutely sure it looked amazing. Smoothing her hair back for the fifth time, Marinette continued to eye her outfit critically.

Maybe if she paired the lacy shrug she had finished the other night it would go better. . . Marinette let out a defeated sigh before slumping down onto the plush ottoman she kept close to her stand up mirror and closet. What was she even doing worrying about her appearance this much? It wasn't even like Luka was going to have any time to interact with her tonight. He'd be too busy cosying up to all the studio executives so he could improve his band's chances. And why shouldn't he? It was the perfect opportunity, and they clearly deserved it.

With one last once over, Marinette grabbed her purse and headed downstairs to call a taxi.


Something about coming to the expensive side of Paris just screamed money. So much so that taxi drivers liked to think they could charge an arm and a leg for what turned out to only be a ten minute car ride.

Marinette stared up at the softly-glowing restaurant sign. She rarely even ventured into this part of town, usually only for the occasional fashion inspiration. It was so far out of her price range, it was absurd. She wasn't about to turn down a free meal in a Michelin star restaurant from some bigwigs who could certainly afford it, though. Readjusting her clothing and hair one last time after the short car ride, she followed the string of couples entering, and waited her turn to speak to the maître d' standing just inside the entrance.

"Uh, I'm here for the Record Star Studio dinner?"

The maître d' eyed her up and down, clearly not impressed with what he was seeing, before asking her name. Marinette wasn't too worried, she doubted they would ever see each other again after tonight. The man turned to run his finger down the listing on the small podium just to the side of him. "This way please." He spun around and started making his way through the half-full dining room. Marinette rushed to catch up. The maître d' led Marinette to one of the side rooms that was closed off behind frosted glass. He knocked softly on the glass before pulling the door open and stepping aside.

Marinette nodded in thanks at her, ignoring the displeased huff she received in return, and walked into the room. She took a quick look over the room and its occupants as the maître d' closed the door behind her with a soft click . The entire room was just as fancy as the entrance and public dining room of the restaurant. The walls were painted a soft grey with pretty watercolor pictures from unknown artists breaking up the long expanses. The lighting was soft, casting the room in an intimate glow. The only thing in the room was a large circular table ringed by chairs that looked more like they belonged in a library than a restaurant.

Marinette turned her attention to the occupants. The fat, balding man she had seen the day before talking to Luka after the audition was speaking quietly to his coworkers gathered around one side of the table. The band was also already seated. Alix was once again tapping out a beat on the wood with her fingers, while Marc and Juleka talked with their significant others that had accompanied them. Luka, however, was smiling at her, looking delighted to see her arrival, and running his gaze appreciatively over her outfit. The only seats left were next to him, just two. Having no choice-not that she really had a problem with it-Marinette sat into the seat next to him, leaving the one on her left empty between her and the studio representatives.

"Hey!" she whispered to him as soon as she slipped into the seat. "Have they told you guys what this is all about yet?" As far as she could see, there were no other bands here, and there wasn't anywhere for them to sit even if they did show up anymore. The only open chair was next to Marinette, which she assumed would remain empty if not for the place setting in front of it. More than likely, another studio worker was on their way.

Luka gave what she was beginning to think was his trademark smile. He shifted until he was fully facing her, turning his back on the rest of the band and focusing solely on her for the moment. "They haven't told us anything yet. We're waiting for someone else still apparently." He gestured to the spot beside her with a shrug.

The balding man from yesterday finally looked up from his phone to address them all. "Alright everyone, our last guest is on his way, so why don't we all get settled and we'll tell you what this is all about." He waited for the rest of his coworkers to sit, though most of them didn't even bother paying attention to what he was going to say, more than likely already in the know. "Now for those of you who don't know me, I am M Damocles. I am the head recruiter for Record Star Studios . I wanted to congratulate you guys: we've decided to go ahead with Kitty Section! You will be the main opening act for a five show, anniversary tour around France with -"

As if on queue, the door behind them opened, and M Damocles stopped talking, his face breaking out into a smile as he addressed whoever had opened the door. "Ah! The man of the hour has finally arrived!" Marinette twisted in her seat to see who it was. Blond hair, green eyes, perfect nose. She saw red.


Luka's entire body was still buzzing with excitement over the announcement. Kitty Section was going on tour . Sure, it wasn't their own tour, but opening for someone - someone big enough to have an anniversary tour - was a great first step. They'd have their own record deal and their own tour in no time, he just knew it. He turned to the door as M Damocles welcomed the newcomer, excited to meet the person they would be spending the next couple of months with, already planning all the questions he could ask them. Juleka would tell him it was just easier to ask their dad, but Luka knew as soon as he broached that subject with him, any chance of making it on merit alone was gone.

The blue-haired musician tilted his head, observing the man who had just entered. He looked to be about the same age as him, with perfectly styled hair, and wearing designer clothes that easily cost more than his entire wardrobe. He had a happy smile on his face as he greeted the entire room. He looked so familiar, but he couldn't quite place- the bar. This was the same man he had seen accost Marinette in the hallway before she had punched him. Strange; his nose looked perfectly fine.

Luka turned to look at Marinette, to ask her if she was okay. But the petite, dark-haired woman was nearly vibrating in suppressed rage as she glared daggers at the man. Her lips curled in a silent snarl. He wouldn't be all that surprised if she suddenly started breathing fire. A little startled, he turned back to facing her, turning his back on the man who was now quietly talking with the executives. "Marinette, are you okay?" Luka asked her in concern.

The woman in question finally tore her eyes away from the blond, a little of the fury leaving their depths when her eyes fell on Luka's concerned look. She seemed to struggle for a moment before leaning into his space so they wouldn't be overheard. She smelled like vanilla, cotton, and an underlying scent that was almost metallic in nature.

"He. . . You saw what happened at the bar." Luka nodded, silently urging her to continue. He had seen her punch the blond man and storm up to him in a huff, but she hadn't shared what exactly had transpired, insisting that she wanted to get back to their night out. "First it was pretty innocent flirting; sleezy, but innocent. Whatever," she continued, waving her hand in dismissal. "Nothing I couldn't handle. But then he got all in my space -" Marinette was working herself into another fury, her cheeks beginning to color again. "- and then he started propositioning me, said he was the famous Adrien Agreste," so that's who he was, "and had I ever wanted to sleep with a celebrity." Her eyes cut to the man in question again with disdain. "He wouldn't take no for an answer, so I made it crystal clear."

Luka frowned, suddenly not all too keen on being here anymore and going on tour, no matter how much it would help the band. "Do you want to get out of here?" At her hesitant nod he held out his hand to her. He got to enjoy the feel of her slipping her own small hand into his own for just a few seconds before the door slammed open once again with far more force then was necessary. They both turned to see what the interruption could be this time.

If he hadn't been sure he was stone-cold sober, Luka would have thought he was seeing double. Standing in the doorway with a scowl plastered across his face and a smattering of yellow and purple bruises under his eyes, was a carbon copy of the man claiming to be Adrien Agreste. Same perfectly styled hair, same green eyes, same designer clothes. Only the nose that had clearly been broken and readjusted set them apart.

Adrien walked up to his doppleganger and slapped him on the back in welcome, unaware or uncaring of the seething mood the newcomer was in. "Ah, Félix! I'm glad you could make it last minute!" The cheerful blond took a quick look around the room before leaning out the door to ask the maître d' for an extra chair. While they waited Adrien returned to making his way around the table, pausing to introduce himself and shake everyone's hands. Luka watched with a frown as Marinette extracted her hand from his to shake Adrien's with a confused frown of her own. She was the last one he greeted, and after doing so, Adrien slipped into the seat next to her. Marinette watched him the whole way.

She was staring at him, which he was probably used to, and not in that typical stalker fangirl way. Marinette was staring at him obviously confused. And Luka didn't blame her. There were two Adrien Agrestes. One she maybe hadn't met, and one she had definitely met. She was refusing to look at him, even if he personally would want to gloat over the bruises maring his picture perfect face.

"So. . . Félix, was it?" she finally asked, addressing her question to Adrien.

Adrien was all easy smiles, seeming to radiate literal sunshine from his being. "He's my cousin. We grew up together." Félix appeared in his field of view, dragging a chair and wedging it into the small space between Adrien and the executive sitting next to him. The blond threw himself bodily down into the chair, arms crossed and looking angrier by the minute. Félix's eyes cut over to their section of the table, skipping over Marinette before flying back in startled recognition.

"You!" He nearly spat out, his anger seeming to multiply tenfold, as if she was the one at fault in the whole scenario. Luka felt like breaking his nose again on her behalf. Marinette was tensing up, gearing up for another fight. He could see the stiff line of her shoulders. Adrien however intervened, seemingly oblivious to the mood rising between the two.

"You know each other! That's great!" Adrien wrapped an arm around Félix's shoulders, dragging his cousin close in a half hug. The other blond looked disgruntled, but the anger on his face faded away. His eyes were still glittering hatred however as he continued to stare at Marinette, and Luka was fairly certain he was just hiding his anger behind a blank mask to appease his more famous cousin. At least, Luka had never heard of Félix before.

Marinette slumped back in her seat. Luka debated still leaving. Clearly Adrien wasn't the one she had had an altercation with, but Félix was still there, and he didn't want to leave her in the position to deal with him at all. At least Adrien was acting as a barrier between them.

He watched Marinette order a glass of wine when the waitress finally started coming around. She looked like she needed it, but he also hoped she didn't drink as much as she had drank last night. He hadn't brought the bike along tonight, not that she could ride it in those shoes, and while he didn't hate it, he also didn't relish the thought of carrying a drunk Marinette all the way home. The waitress returned with their drinks, and he took a sip of his water while watching her down nearly half her glass right away.

Carrying her home it was then.

Marinette was clearly uncomfortable, and Luka wished she had taken him up on his offer to run away. Something he was still willing to do even if the person who had assaulted her was not the same person as who they would be working with.

That was how he spent most of his evening. Worrying over Marinette as she consumed glass after glass of wine. She'd turn to him occasionally to talk, or smile, but for the most part she stayed focused on Adrien. Or more likely, glaring daggers at Félix who did his utmost to ignore her. Luka ate his own dinner slowly, not even able to enjoy the meal that probably cost more than his weekly paycheck. He had been hoping to spend most of the time getting to know Marinette better, but she seemed intent on her other neighbors.

Eventually the food was cleared away and the executives turned to the band to explain that they would officially be playing as the only opening act on Adrien's tour. Just five shows over five weeks. They would be paid, of course, and who knew, maybe the opportunity would blossom into something more. Adrien at least seemed eager to work with him, even if Luka seriously doubted they would be seeing much of each other. Finally, M Damocles called an end to the evening.

Luka stood with everyone else, offering Marinette his arm to help her stand. Despite how the night had gone, he was pleased when she took it with a smile. As the band filed out, M Damocles stopped him only long enough to tell him that they would be emailing more information in the coming days before turning his attention back to Adrien. Luka and Marinette made their way out of the restaurant, her arm still a heavy weight draped over his own, to find the rest of their friends had already disappeared to head home.

Once outside they only made it a few steps towards her residence before she stumbled a step. Luka slipped his arm around her waist, doing his best to steady her with a mumbled curse. Marinette bent over to remove her shoes, sighing in pleasure before they continued on. It only took a few more steps before he noticed she had started walking funny and poorly trying to hide the grimaces with each step. Parisian sidewalks were generally clean, but walking over them barefoot was never pleasant.

Luka slowly extracted his arm from around her waist, making sure she'd be able to stand on her own for a few moments before he was kneeling next to her and indicating she should climb on his back. Marinette seemed startled to realize that there was even someone with her. "Luka? You. . . You don't have to walk me home."

He smiled at her, indicating his back once more. "I want to make sure you get home safely, Marinette. I promise I can carry you just fine." Even if he didn't spend any amount of time at the gym he wouldn't have doubted that; Marinette was such a petite girl. Carrying her on his back would be easier than trying to carry her the entire walk back bridal style. Luka felt his cheeks heat, glad for the low light, as he tried to wrestle his mind away from that train of thought.

Marinette stared at him for a moment before wrapping her arms around his neck, nearly smacking him in the face with her shoes in the process. "Hold on tight." At her tentative nod, Luka stood, reaching his arms back to hook under her when she hopped up to wrap her legs securely around his waist. He was desperately trying not to think about the fact that his hands were gripping at the soft skin of her upper thighs, and that he could feel the lacy trim of whatever she was wearing under her dress.

After readjusting so they were both comfortable, Luka set off down the sidewalk towards the bakery. He could feel Marinette breathing softly against his neck where she had buried her face. Unwilling to break the quiet, Luka stayed silent, worried about holding on to Marinette if she fell asleep. Thankfully that didn't seem to be something he had to worry about when she started mumbling nonsense to herself. He grit his teeth, his muscles tensing. She had settled herself in the dip of his shoulder, face turned towards his neck. With each exhaled word he could feel her soft lips brushing against the suddenly hypersensitive skin of his neck. It was pure torture.

When her cool fingers suddenly started brushing against his exposed collarbone, Luka almost yelped and dropped her, causing Marinette to giggle next to his ear. "Sorry, Luka." She didn't sound sorry at all. Especially when she just continued doing it, being so bold to even slip her fingers under the fabric of his shirt to follow the ridge of the bone.

"Please be careful, Marinette. I don't want you to fall," he tried desperately, tightening his grip on her even as he said it. His fingers gripped tighter on the pliable flesh of her thighs and Marinette squirmed against him in response, letting out a featherly little moan in his ear. Fuck, he was so dead. Luka was going to need a very cold shower when he got back to his apartment. Were he a weaker man he could have enjoyed spreading his fingers out on her skin, trying to elicit more of those little sighs she was releasing with her head buried back into his neck. But he wouldn't take advantage of her while she was drunk.

Too soon, he could see the bakery in the distance, which meant the end of Marinette's little teasing against his skin. Stopping outside the building, Luka slowly lowered himself to the ground until he was kneeling, waiting as Marinette took her sweet time to slide down his body, sighing in pleasure the whole way. Once she was off, Luke straightened himself, turning to help her back up and steady her on her feet. He didn't let go of her arms even when she seemed to stop wobbling.

Marinette turned her face up to him, all sleepy smiles and looking utterly content despite standing outside in the cold at one in the morning. "Thank you so much for escorting me home, Luka." Escorting, right. She rocked up on her tiptoes, tilting her face up. In a panic, Luka did the only thing he could think of to prevent himself from kissing her when she was still so drunk: He kissed her forehead. He kept his lips there longer than was strictly necessary, but he enjoyed the feel of her skin under his lips.

She fell back on her heels, blinking up at him in hurt confusion, and Luka instantly felt bad. As much as he wanted to be kissing Marinette right now, he didn't feel right having their first one be while she was wasted and might not remember or even really consent. "You should get to bed, it's late," he whispered, hoping he didn't sound like he was utterly rejecting her.

Marinette pulled her arms out of his, a crestfallen look on her face that tugged on his heartstrings. She started down at her bare feet for a moment, and Luka could only pray that she wasn't crying. He wasn't sure exactly what he would do if she was. A few seconds later she finally looked at him, a smile plastered across her face that he was pretty sure was fake, judging by the stray tears he could see glimmering in the corners of her eyes. "You're right! Thanks again, Luka! I really appreciate it. . . Again."

She turned to go, and Luka felt his heart skip a beat in panic before he leaned forward and snagged her hand in his own. "Hey, uh. . ." Suddenly feeling embarrassed himself, Luka ruffled his hair in a nervous habit. "Do you want to maybe exchange numbers? It would be nice to have someone to talk to back home when we leave." He had no idea if they would be able to see each other again before the band left with Adrien. Luka sure hoped so.

A hopeful smile crept its way onto Marinette's face and she turned back around, digging in her purse to pull out her cell phone. He dug out his own, and they swapped them to program their numbers in. When he looked up, she was holding out a small box with the bakery's logo on it.

"I made you some macarons, in thanks for making sure I got home safe last night. And tonight too, I guess."

He took them with a quiet thanks, stowing the small box in his pocket to be eaten later. With another murmured goodbye, this one sounding much more cheerful, Marinette slipped inside the dark bakery. Luka watched her go with a loopy smile on his face before turning and making his way back to his apartment, a little spring in his step.


The first time Luka called, Marinette stared at her phone sitting innocently on her bedside table for the full minute it took to click over to voicemail. They hadn't spoken since he had carried her drunk ass back to the bakery a week ago. Unless you counted the text message he had sent her a few days after the dinner with Kitty Section's schedule. She hadn't answered beyond some generic encouragement, still too embarrassed.

She had woken up after the studio dinner hungover and painfully aware of what had happened the night before. Besides once again blatantly feeling Luka up, she had gone so far as to try and kiss him! It didn't matter that Luka had seemed to enjoy the attention at first, and that she had secretly been hoping the entire way home that his hands would inch just a little further up her thighs. He had made his feelings crystal clear at the end of the night when he had refused her more direct advances. And that hurt. She had thought they might be building to something, if not long-term, at least short and pleasurable.

She was startled out of her thoughts when her phone beeped loudly, alerting her to the fact that she had a voicemail. Scrambling away from her sewing station, Marinette grappled with her phone for a few moments. She pulled up the voicemail and hesitantly held her phone up to her ear.

"Sorry I missed you, Marinette. We just got done with our first opening show, man what an experience!"

Marinette listened to him talk all about the experience, and what it was like touring on a real tour bus. How Adrien was actually a pretty decent person the few times they had interacted. He told her all the things he had clearly wanted to tell her over the phone, and for a moment she felt bad for giving in to her nerves and not answering the call. A small smile spread over her face as he rambled on however. There was a long pause while she listened to him shuffle with something on his end before his voice came through the speaker again.

"I miss you. I'll call you again later."

The line clicked dead again, the robotic voice of her phone listing all the options for the voicemail while she stared down at it in confused wonder. He missed her? She wasn't sure they knew each other all that well, but he had sounded very genuine. The day of the audition they had spent plenty of time together, especially at the bar later when they had been practically attached at the hip for hours. And there had been the dinner where she had. . . Practically ignored him.

Feeling suddenly ashamed, Marinette pulled up her most recent message with him and looked over the schedule he had sent her. Vowing to be available the next time he called, she quickly typed out a reply saying sorry for missing the call, how excited she was for him, and that they'd talk later. She was too scared to say that she missed him, too.


The next few times he called, Marinette was reading. She took to sitting in bed and reading while he was supposed to be playing, looking through sewing journals at new techniques and advances in fabrics and dyes, phone fully charged and within easy reach. Despite being ready, the special ringtone she had set for Luka blaring through her otherwise quiet room always startled her into dropping whatever she was doing.

They always started off by talking about their days. She helped out in the bakery, she dealt with the most recent bridezilla of Paris at work. She talked about how excited she was about the new sewing project she was working on. She kept quiet on the few pieces she had begun toying around with for him. He told her about how much he was enjoying touring. Enjoying the small taste of that rockstar lifestyle. He wasn't super interested in the partying that took place, or the crazy groupies - her heart clenched at the thought - but just the chance to play on a big stage and move people with his music had always been his dream. The crowd at their next few shows had been much more receptive, finally starting to pick up on some of their songs, and the executives seemed impressed as a result. But he was missing Paris, missing Sass. Missing her went unsaid.

Between phone calls, they exchanged text messages: Normal chit-chat about their days and small trivia that didn't come up during their weekly calls. She learned that his favorite color was a type of teal blue, the same color that he tried to emulate in his hair. She learned that he had been playing guitar since before he could walk. Apparently so had Juleka; both their parents were big into music. He shared far more information about his childhood with her than his sister ever had. He talked about his mom, how her passing had crushed both him and Juleka a few years ago and almost ended the band before it even started. But in all that time, he only ever said that his father was in and out of their lives, even now.


The night of the final show, Luka slipped away from his band members milling around in their dressing room after their set to make his way back to the small tour bus they were all sharing. While this tour had been an amazing learning experience, the chance of a lifetime, he would be lying if he didn't say he was looking forward to returning home in a few days. He missed his own bed and apartment. He missed Sass, who was staying with his best friend, Henri. He missed Marinette, as embarrassing as it was to admit when they had only known each other for such a short time. But these past few weeks exchanging daily text messages and phone calls with her made him really feel like he was getting to know her.

Like how her favorite color was the same pink painted on her walls. How she dreamed of opening her own little fashion boutique in downtown Paris and selling high quality but affordable one-of-a-kind clothing. She was an only child and clearly loved by both her parents. She didn't have nearly the skill in baking as either of them, but she still enjoyed the calming motions of it. She hadn't grown up with any pets, and she was jealous that he had one at all. And she sort of wanted to learn guitar now thanks to him, even if she knew she didn't have the time. Luka promised to teach her when he could, secretly hoping they could turn the whole experience into a real date with just the two of them.

Stowing his gear away, Luka quickly changed into something more comfortable to sleep in before settling into one of the few plush chairs scattered around the bus and pulling up his list of contacts. He hesitated a moment before making the split second decision to video call her. He waited as the phone rang, worried that she wasn't going to pick up. Eventually she did, and he frowned to see her already curled up in bed. "Hey, Marinette." She smiled sleepily at him as soon as he started talking. "Sorry, did I wake you? Go back to sleep, we'll talk later okay?"

The dark-haired woman quickly shook her head, trying and failing to hide her yawn behind her pink and white comforter. She insisted on staying on the call, she was just tired after her day. Luka frowned, not sure he really believed her. But he had been missing Marinette, and only really got to talk to her on the phone after the band's set, so he was willing to be selfish and talk rather than insist that she go to bed. She told him about how her dad was sick and she had woken up super early to help her mom out in the bakery all day before her normal job. Which hadn't been a cake walk either apparently, with difficult bride after difficult bride making visits. She held up and wiggled her fingers, wrapped in a multitude of bandages. She was disappointed that her own projects would be put on hold while she healed.

Expressing sympathy for her, the musician went on to tell her about how tonight the crowd had actually started singing along with some of their songs, the first time on the entire tour. The fact alone had made his entire year, giving him a heady feeling just thinking about it. M Damocles had slapped him on the back and promised good things to come after Adrien had finally taken the stage.

"That's great, Luka! I'm so happy for you!" She exclaimed, her eyes slipping closed against the light of her phone.

Luka was halfway through talking about a new song he was working on when he glanced back at the screen and saw that the phone had tilted when her hand relaxed. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing quietly, fast asleep. With a smile, he dragged himself out of the chair with a groan, trying to stay quiet enough not to wake the woman. His entire body was sore after they had gone all out tonight. They had wanted to leave the best-lasting impression they could on the last night.

He hauled himself up into the top bunk he had been using during this entire tour and wrapped himself up in the blankets, knowing how cold the bus could get at night while they traveled. Turning so his back was to the hallway, Luka propped his phone up in the little nook inside his bunk, whispered a quiet goodnight to Marinette, and fell asleep to her even breathing.