Night Drive
Kiss me with your cherry lipstick
Never wash you off my face
Hit me I can take your cheap shots
Leave you with the love we made
Halfway through their European tour, the entire band and production crew were granted a small reprieve. They had an entire week off to themselves to relax and recharge for the final stretch of the tour. Record Star Studio had even been kind enough to rent them all individual rooms so they could stretch their legs in an actual bed. Both Rose and Nathaniel had flown out to spend time with their significant others, roaming as a group around London where they had stopped for their break.
During the downtime, Luka was determined to get Marinette alone and on a real date. But so far, getting a day, let alone a night, to themselves had been next to impossible. Everyone wanted to hang out and explore the city together. Finally, the night before they had to pack up and start off on the road again, he finally had his chance. The rest of the band was off doing their own thing, probably the same thing he intended on doing with Marinette if she would let him.
Luka found her hunched over one of the few flat surfaces on the bus, a little table they usually ate at when no one could be bothered to go out somewhere. She had various sewing supplies scattered around her, none of which he understood the purpose of, as well as yards of fabric. He ran his hand down one of the unfurled rolls, a midnight blue velvet that had little white pinpricks of stars scattered throughout.
"This is some beautiful fabric, Marinette," he complimented, sliding into the only empty spot in the booth chairs that surrounded the table.
Marinette only gave him a grunt in acknowledgment, too focused on the fabric she was carefully stitching seams into. Luka would have been perfectly content to spend the day like that, watching her create masterpieces, while he hummed along to some song or another. But he was visiting with a purpose today, and he wasn't sure when he'd get another chance. Before he could lose his nerve, and praying the entire time that he had read the mixed signals right, he reached out when she finally stopped sewing to lay his own hand over hers, careful to avoid the sharp needle she still held between her fingers.
"Marinette, I was wondering if. . . If you'd like to get dinner with me tonight?" he asked quietly.
Marinette blinked at him as if just realizing that he'd been there the entire time. She gave up the hunt for whatever she'd started looking for when she stopped sewing and shoved the needle into a little red ball with black spots that was already stabbed through with a multitude of other needles.
"Oh, where are we all going?" she asked innocently, not appearing to connect the dots.
Luka's lips quirked into a little smile despite what she had said. Maybe he should be annoyed that she was clueless about the whole thing, that her mind first went to a group outing instead of spending time alone, with him. But Luka chose to see it instead as a testament to Marinette's big heart, that she was always thinking of everyone else's happiness before her own.
"No, Marinette, just you and me," he clarified, feeling the warmth of happiness spread through him when her face lit up in a brilliant smile.
"Okay! Yeah! That sounds great!" She glanced at the clock on the bus's microwave before turning a forlorn look to her sewing supplies still scattered around the area. The thoughts dancing across her face were obvious. She still had so much to do, not to mention just cleaning up. But even though it was already nearing dinner time, Luka was more than happy to wait a few more hours.
"I've got some errands to run," he mentioned, gesturing to the exit of the bus. Luka didn't really have anything to do, but he was willing to wander around the city for a little bit if it meant Marinette would have the time to clean up and get ready. "I'll meet you here in two hours?"
Marinette nodded eagerly to him, already beginning to gather up all her supplies. "I can't wait!" The excitement in her voice nurtured the little flame of hope in his chest. "What should I wear? Where are we going? Is it just dinner?"
Luka laughed at her rapid-fire questions, holding up his hands in an effort to stem the onslaught. She blushed, grinning sheepishly at him when she noticed his reaction. "It's a surprise," he said, meaning he hadn't figured it out yet. He'd never been to London before, and he hadn't even been sure she'd say yes.
"But nowhere super fancy, it will be nice though," Luka finally clarified. None of them had packed anything really dressy other than stage clothes. They had stuck mostly to comfortable pieces they could lounge around in, but they each had a couple of pieces that could be rotated to create a couple of nicer outfits.
Luka bid her goodbye, and she distractedly responded, already focused back on her work, only this time she was busy shoving everything away into some kind of tiered box. He gave her an indulgent smile before leaving to find something to do in the city for the next few hours.
Exactly two hours later saw Marinette cramped into the only, rather small, bathroom on the bus, doing her best to put the last-minute touches on her makeup. Various cosmetics and hair products were scattered around the enclosed space, stuff she hadn't gotten a chance to use once this entire trip. Dinner with Luka was more than an ample excuse to justify their continued existence on the bus, however. One last sweep of bright red across her lips, the pop! of her mouth smearing the color everywhere it needed to be, the final touch.
"Well. . ." Marinette smiled at herself in the mirror, suddenly feeling nerves creeping over her skin.
It was only dinner.
But it was dinner with Luka. It was dinner alone with Luka. Tonight would be the true test of whether there was anything there or not between them. If all the back and forth flirting that went nowhere was ever going to amount to anything. And if there wasn't, and it didn't. . . Well, Marinette would just have to learn to live working in close quarters with someone she had genuinely come to care about.
"Knock 'em dead, Marinette."
Shoving all the products littered around her into her toiletry bag with little care for their wellbeing at the moment, Marinette exited the bathroom and paused long enough to throw the bag on the pile of her belongings before making her way into the main part of the bus. She felt her breath catch when she found Luka waiting for her, and she took a small moment to observe him before he noticed her.
Where had he gotten that outfit?
Marinette was pretty sure she had seen all the clothes everyone had brought with them on the trip. There wasn't exactly a place to hide things on the bus after all, and she had seen everything by virtue of being the group's seamstress alone. She recognized the tight black jeans he was wearing at least, so black they might as well have been dress pants. The white henley she was fairly certain she'd seen before as well, at the very least she remembered quite enjoying the way it stretched tight across his chest. It had been the model for something she'd made him after all.
But it was the simple grey suit jacket with three-quarter sleeves, something that kept it just casual enough, that she knew was new. He definitely hadn't packed that. Which meant his errand earlier had involved going out and buying it. It was sweet that he would make an effort and go out of his way to dress up for their dinner. Just as Marinette was allowing herself to enjoy following the hard lines of his legs, Luka finally turned enough to notice her in the doorway.
"Marinette!"
He was staring at her with his mouth slightly parted, pink starting to color his otherwise pale cheeks, as his eyes roved up and down her figure. Her outfit wasn't anything elaborate either. A simple black a-line dress with everything above the collarbone made of delicate see-through lace. It was the thigh-high white stockings that she was hoping would entice Luka to do more tonight than just kiss her on the forehead. Marinette wasn't totally oblivious, she remembered the way his eyes had lingered on her legs that first night they met.
Luka finally seemed to gain some of his senses. "You look amazing," he told her with a soft smile. Marinette returned it, walking up to him and slipping her hand in his as he led them both off the bus.
Five blocks into the heart of London was all it took before Marinette was turning to him to begin peppering him with questions again. She had been near vibrating with restless energy ever since they had left the bus, but so far she had been remarkably quiet.
"Soooo," she began, drawing the word out far longer than it needed to be. Luka found it cuter than it probably should have been. "Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"
Luka chuckled, opting to answer her question with one of his own, "You don't like surprises much, do you?"
Marinette didn't answer him for a minute, her mouth morphing into an adorable pout. "I don't like surprises when I know there's a surprise coming."
Luka nodded at her answer, filing it away in the back of his mind for future reference. They continued on with Luka humming quietly to every restaurant Marinette pointed out on the way in her effort of figuring out their destination. Finally, they stopped outside of a colorful building had Gloria written in elegant script glowing softly above the doorway.
The hostess just inside the door led them through the waiting crowds when Luka gave his name, weaving her way through the tables already occupied with lively diners. He glanced behind him as they went, lips twitching at seeing Marinette staring in fascination around them, eyes darting from the plush colored rugs to the metallic ceiling that reflected back the many lights spotted over it. After assuring them that their waiter would be with them shortly, the hostess left them at their table.
Luka pulled Marinette's chair out, his cheeks coloring at her soft thanks. He had dated his fair share of women before, but he couldn't remember a single time he'd gone so far as to pull out their seat for them. Then again, he'd never been somewhere as nice as this with any of them either. He rounded the table after she'd gotten comfortable and settled into his own chair before scooping up the menu to begin pursuing it.
He was halfway through the drink list when Marinette started giggling, the noise wrapping around his brain and sticking. Luka raised an eyebrow at her in silent question as she slapped a hand over her mouth to silence the sound while her cheeks took on a stark red hue.
"Sor-sorry!" She whispered, lowering her pitch when the first few syllables were louder than she apparently anticipated. "It's just. . ." She gestured at her own menu in exasperation before leaning across the table and tapping at a line on his own under the appetizer section.
Filippo's Big Balls, he read slowly.
Luka pursed his lips in his own effort not to chuckle as he read further, Marinette was still struggling to contain her own giggles. Slow-cooked meatballs in a San Marzano tomato sauce. They sounded delicious.
"I know it's juvenile, but it was just so out of place to see them on the menu!" She explained, hiding her persistent smile behind the edge of her menu.
"Well, maybe we should try them." Luka's suggestion sent Marinette into another fit of giggles and his lips quirked in a crooked smile in response, her laughter had been his intention. He would happily spend money if it meant Marinette got some sort of enjoyment out of it, to say nothing of how good they sounded.
Their server finally put in an appearance, and they made their orders, wine, and Filippo's Big Balls included.
The dinner date had been amazing, much like Marinette had hoped it would be. They had stayed right up until closing, laughing over shared childhood stories, sampling the many Italian delicacies the restaurant offered, and indulging in the rich wines that were ever-flowing. Gloria had shooed them out eventually, long after the last customers besides themselves had left. She and Luka stumbled their way back to the hotel the record company had procured them rooms from. They didn't even make it inside before Marinette was pushing Luka up against the brick exterior to claim his lips in a fevered kiss. If their relationship wasn't going anywhere, then she wasn't going to bother following him back to his hotel room. She'd rather slink back to the tour bus to nurse her bruised ego in peace.
Luka had been receptive, more than receptive in fact. He'd returned her kiss with just as much enthusiasm, panting against her mouth and asking her if she wanted to come to his room for another drink. Her question about whether the hotel even had a mini-bar had brought on a round of giggles and a sheepish shrug from the guitarist. Marinette had nodded out her approval regardless. She was parched, but the drink she was thirsty for wasn't alcohol.
Luka led them to his room without any sidetracks, but she had spent the entire trek up the stairs giggling like a schoolgirl. Mostly because she had been staring at his ass, which looked delectable in his tight jeans.
As soon as the lock clicked in place behind them, Luka pressed her up against the door, boxing her in. Marinette could feel the hardwood of it against her back. The cheap grain scratched at her skin even through the material of her dress. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped it didn't ruin her pretty dress, but with Luka's lips pressed desperately against her own, and with his tongue massaging the length of hers, it was a small distant worry.
Marinette's arms slipped around his neck, her fingers tangling into the dark tips that just tickled the collar of his shirt. Luka's own hands began inching down her sides, tickling at the sensitive skin through her clothing, he swallowed the giggle the feeling tore from her mouth. His entire hands nearly circled her waist as he paused for a moment, rubbing his thumbs leisurely just below her belly button. His hands traveled the rest of the way down her thighs to rest warm against the strip of skin just above her stockings before reversing and traveling back up and under her skirt to grip at her ass. His hands tightened and pulled, and with a quick hop, Marinette wrapped her legs securely around his waist as he pressed her even tighter into the door.
She wasn't sure how much time passed like that, but she enjoyed the thrilling feeling that raced up and down her spine at the gentle massage Luka's calloused fingers were giving the exposed skin of her backside. When the two of them finally parted for air, Luka laid his forehead against her shoulder, taking deep lungfuls of oxygen. He pivoted after a moment, still holding on to her, and though she doubted he would drop her, she still tightened her grip. When they reached the middle of the room, he hit the bed and she pitched backward to fall almost bonelessly onto the soft bed. While the hotel had skimped on the door, the same couldn't be said about the mattress.
Luka fell with her, catching himself on his forearms before they crashed together. He grins down at her impishly while looming over her in her space. Marinette scoots herself up until she is lounging against his pillows, one hand clutching at the soft material of his jacket to drag him along with her. Once she's comfortable, she starts tugging his jacket off and after a moment of breathless laughter, Luka starts helping her.
"Eager, are we?" He quips at her.
Marinette gave him a mock glare but refused to dignify him with an answer to such a ridiculous question. He was the one who had pinned her against the door after all.
With the jacket finally removed and flung somewhere into the darkness of the hotel room, Marinette began working on Luka's shirt, pulling it from where it had tucked itself into his jeans over the course of the night. Luka reared up over her, peeling it off and tossing it in the same direction as the jacket. She felt her mouth go dry when she could finally take in the sculpted lines of his chest close up without feeling like a peeping Tom.
Luka eased himself back over her carefully, giving her a chaste kiss, before trailing light kisses across her cheek to the shell of her ear, "Like what you see?"
Marinette gulped, only managing a small nod as her fingers traced the watercolor-like lines of Sass' tail wrapping around Luka's bicep, sending visible tremors down his body. He laid one last chaste kiss right behind her ear before he started working his way down her neck, placing open-mouth kisses that leave her skin wet and tingly. She bit back a moan when he reached her shoulder where he began laying multiple kisses along the hard ridge of her collarbone. He scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin, sending shockwaves down her nerves that caused her toes to curl.
Luka moved down her body far enough to lay a kiss right over where her heart was hammering in her chest, and Marinette thinks she might tear up at the gesture. He gives her a wicked grin and begins stalking back up her body but stops just short of her lips, his own mouth hovering just out of reach.
"You're so beautiful, Marinette," he whispers, the expelled air tickling over her kiss swollen lips.
Normally, she'd appreciate the words. But right now, Marinette felt like she wanted to deck him in his pretty face if he didn't start kissing her again right now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and mirrored the action with her legs around his waist. She dragged their bodies together and swallowed the long groan he let out when their bodies connected. They kissed languidly for a few moments until the friction from rubbing against each other just isn't enough anymore. She starts to tell him to take her dress off, but Luka pulls back away from her.
He separated their bodies, holding his shaking one away from hers and burying his face in her shoulder to pant and catch his breath. Frustrated, Marinette's hands went to the side buttons on her dress, but Luka's hand wrapping around her tiny wrist and tugging stops her.
Marinette felt like she'd been dunked in ice water. Why were they stopping? She had seen the way he looked at her. Hell, he had to have noticed the way she looked at him half the time. Physically they clearly wanted it, so why wasn't she good enough? She felt her face heat up from embarrassed rejection, rather than the heated arousal she had been feeling just moments ago. She started trying to scoot herself out from under Luka's body, but his grip on her was tight, and he refused to let her go anywhere.
"No, just. . . I'm sorry, Marinette."
She finally turned to look at him, doing her best to try and keep her face carefully neutral and not let him in on any of the distress she was feeling at the moment. She must have failed in some way because Luka's blue eyes softened, and he leaned forward to lay another chaste kiss on her forehead.
Marinette was sick of chaste kisses.
"I want you, Marinette. Trust me, I want you." Luka clarified, gesturing to himself sheepishly as he sat up on his knees. He climbed totally off her and moved to perch on the edge of the bed, turned away from her, and hunched over.
"I really like you, Marinette, but-" she felt her heart clench at his words, "I don't want some seedy motel after our first date, where we drank quite a bit, to be our first time."
The fingers that had slowly been closing around her heart released their strangling grip as understanding settled in her brain. Marinette could understand his reasoning, respect it perhaps, even if she didn't personally give a damn about where they did the deed so long as they did the deed. As far as she was concerned, they had been on edge almost since meeting each other. She didn't say anything as Luka stood up and made his way over to a small overnight bag and began digging through it.
"Do you want to stay here tonight? I've got some clothes you can sleep in." His voice sounded small and unsure. As if he was scared of what her answer would be, scared of what her reaction would be. He still hadn't even glanced at her.
Marinette couldn't help but smile after a moment of thought. She'd come out tonight totally intent on seducing Luka into bed and putting them both out of their misery. Ever the gentleman, he had put a stop to it before it had gotten too far, but he also hadn't said no. Scooting herself off the bed, she padded silently up to the still crouched musician. She laid herself out over his back, feeling his body tense up under her own. Resting her chin on his shoulder, Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulder and continued to smile, despite the fact that Luka couldn't even see her from this angle.
"I'd love to stay the night," she finally told him.
With each passing second after that, Marinette could feel the lard lines of Luka's body slowly relax until he was just a steady presence keeping her up. She reached out and snatched up the oversized shirt he was holding loosely in his hands, but purposefully left the sweatpants he had draped over one of his knees. She seriously doubted they would fit even if she had wanted to wear them. No matter what he said, she was still determined to give it one last go.
Marinette laid a light kiss against the pulse point steadily beating in his neck, delighting in the little shiver that danced over his body in response, before sliding off of him and standing back up to make her way into the attached bathroom.
"I'll just get changed then," she said before closing the door behind her, leaving it unlocked.
With quick fingers, Marinette undid the shiny row of buttons that marched up her side, keeping her dress closed. She let it slip off her body to fall in a pile around her feet. Holding up the shirt, she grinned at the faded tour information of a Jagged Stone concert from many years ago. Pulling it over her head, she turned to the mirror to give herself a slow look over.
The makeup could go. As much as Luka seemed to enjoy her bold colors, she wasn't about to risk her pores by wearing it overnight. The chiffon knot her hair was in she slowly pulled apart, leaving her hair to fall around her shoulders in artificial waves brought on by being twisted together for hours. The stockings. . . Marinette smirked. The stockings could stay.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth with the hotel-provided toiletries, Marinette flipped off the light and opened the door. The bedside lamp was on now, and Luka was back to perching on the side of the bed, now wearing the sweatpants she had rejected earlier. She was pleased to see he had foregone a shirt if he even had an extra one that was, leaving his upper body on display for her viewing pleasure.
Luka's eyes flickered over to her, zeroing in on her legs that now had much more skin exposed with the band shirt being shorter than her dress by a good few inches. Marinette watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat as his fist clenched and unclenched on his thighs. She hadn't even taken two steps to the bed before he was rushing past her into the bathroom to finish his own nightly rituals.
Marinette shook her head with an amused smile before busying herself turning down the comforter for the both of them. She waited until he had come back out of the bathroom and slipped under the blanket, patting the spot next to him. He was still refusing to look at her. Marinette crawled onto the bed, sliding herself under his arm and throwing one of her legs over his own.
He didn't take the bait though, instead sliding them both further under the blanks and pulling it up over their shoulders. Luka wrapped both of his arms around her and tucked her into his side. Marinette huffed in mild annoyance, miffed that she hadn't been able to convince him to renege on his earlier insistence. But he was warm pressed against her, and the alcohol they had drank at dinner was still a pleasant veil over her mind. She didn't fight it when the darkness of slumber slowly crept over her.
Two and a half months. Seventy-six and a quarter days to be exact.
That was how long Marinette had managed to avoid interacting with Félix. She went out of her way to avoid him. She was sure he did the exact same thing. She made no effort to ensure the clothing she was required to make for him even fit right. If they were too tight, or too loose, well he wasn't technically part of the band now was he? And she was under contract to dress the band, not uppity little shits from London.
Seventy-six days was a good record in her mind. Though she had been hoping to go the entirety of the tour without saying a single word to him. He avoided her like the plague and she returned the favor. Marinette had never seen him even talk to any of the other members of the band either. Avoiding him was easy, especially because he chose to spend the majority of this time locked away in his own travel accommodations.
But Félix, little shit from London that he was, just had to go and ruin her streak.
He cornered her on the night of the seventy-sixth day, not even an hour before the start of the next concert. Everyone on the crew was backstage at the newest venue, busy setting up. Luka and the rest of the La Mar en Été were going through a small rehearsal out on the stage, tuning their instruments to the acoustics of the building. Félix boxed her into a little alcove right off the stage with her back facing it so she couldn't see anyone else.
He was once again leaning over her, reminiscent of that night in the bar many months ago. He didn't have that stupid leer on his face this time, which was a plus, but Marinette didn't buy the friendly smile he was trying to put forward either. Something was off about it, something mean, but she couldn't pinpoint what.
"What do you want, Félix?" There was more bite to her words than she really intended to put there, but she wasn't exactly enjoying being crowded into a corner by him again. She didn't even really want to be talking to him. If anyone was going to pin her into dark alcoves, it was going to be Luka.
Félix just kept smiling at her, appearing unaffected by her blatant hatred. "Look, I feel bad about how we hit it off."
Hit it off was an apt choice of words. Marinette was fairly certain she had broken his nose that night. She was sort of surprised that he, or the company, had never retaliated against her in that time. They even went so far as to hire her. Especially when he was related to Adrien Agreste, who was much more connected and famous than his doppelganger cousin. Maybe he had simply never told anyone, the shame of being beaten up by a girl too much. It was just their little secret. Hers, Félix's, and Luka's.
"I want to make it up to you," he continued as if she wasn't glaring daggers at him the entire time. "I've seen the way you look at my cousin."
Who didn't look at Adrien Agreste like that though? He was handsome, he was rich, and he was famous. A sweetheart from what little interaction she had had with him. He was the media's darling. He was famous in his own right despite having two equally famous parents. One would have to be blind to not look at Adrien Agreste.
"I happen to know he's single, and I'd like to set you guys up on a date as an apology."
Marinette's brain slowly ground to a halt.
Her? On a date? With Adrien Agreste?
Her brain kicked back into gear as the dying notes of Luka's guitar jump-started her thought process again.
Even if she went into this with no intention of ever seeing the singer again, which she didn't as she was perfectly happy trying with Luka, it was far too good of an opportunity to pass up. Adrien's father was Gabriel Agreste, the founder of her dream fashion house. Having any type of relationship with Adrien was the perfect stepping stone to getting her foot in that door. Surely Luka would understand if she just explained she was going only to set up an acquaintance. He would understand that you had to sacrifice for your dreams, and a single night was nothing in the scheme of things.
But why was Félix helping her? Marinette's eyes narrowed. She didn't believe his smile for a single second, nor did she really believe that he had forgiven her for turning down his advances. It was easy to see in the way that he moved and the way he talked to everyone that he thought he was above the common people. And to him, everyone was a common person.
"What do you get out of it?" she finally asked.
For an instant that nasty look that he always sported, the one that said 'you are beneath me and it's an annoyance to even talk to you' flitted across his face. But it was there and gone in the blink of an eye, and Marinette wasn't sure if she had seen it just because she didn't want to believe him, or because it had really been there. Then the smile was back, his face as smooth as glass.
"I told you, I feel badly and wanted to apologize," he continued to insist, his eyes flickering over her shoulder and then back to her face just as fast.
Marinette still didn't believe him, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt like she just had to take the chance. Luka would understand. He had to.
"When?" She finally asked.
Felix finally stood up from towering over her, "I'll introduce you two at the wrap party, he already agreed to come." His eyes flicked over her shoulder again, the nasty smirk she had come to know stretching across his face before he turned to go without a word. Marinette watched him go, wondering if she had made the right decision. When she turned back to the stage, Luka was gone.
Luka was avoiding her, that much was certain.
Why he was avoiding her, she didn't know. The show had gone off without a hitch from what she had seen, but rather than coming over and kissing her as he had done after every show since their date, Luka had stormed off the other side of the stage without so much as a word to anyone else. Neither Alix nor Marc had any answers, and Juleka had just said that he needed time, her eyes colder than they had ever been. Time for what though, the seamstress also didn't know.
Marinette waited exactly half an hour after the show before knocking softly on Luka's dressing room door and opening it only when there was no answer. It was pitch black inside. Confused, she flicked on the light switch and swept her eyes over the room. Luka wasn't there, and neither was any of his stuff. All of her things were still in a pile on the couch where she had dropped them when the band had arrived hours ago, but any evidence that the lead of La Mar en Été had used this room was conspicuously absent.
Just to make sure she wasn't missing anything, Marinette knocked on the bathroom door as well. It opened with little resistance and was just as dark inside as the dressing room itself had been. Beginning to feel both hurt and exasperated at Luka's disappearing act, she slowly began gathering up her own bags before leaving the room at a subdued pace.
Where had he gone? Why hadn't he said anything? A multitude of questions ran through her mind. They had been kissing and laughing together right before he had gone on stage to warm up, and they hadn't exchanged so much as a word since then. What had happened in between that time?
Climbing onto the bus, she wasn't surprised to find Juleka already passed out in her own bunk. Marc and Alix were in the main part of the vehicle, relaxing and playing a video game. But again Luka was nowhere to be found.
Stowing her bags in her own bunk, Marinette left the bus again, pausing to talk to the crew member who was always standing nearby on watch.
"Excuse me, sir?" she asked. The man turned to give her his full attention. "Can you tell me if Luka's been back to the bus yet? I didn't see him in the building."
The roadie jutted his chin out towards the exit of the parking lot, pointing to a cluster of buildings across the street. "He went that way. I think I saw him walk into the middle building over there."
Marinette gave the man her thanks before hurrying across the street. When she approached the building in the middle she was surprised to see it was a bar. Only half of the letters above the weathered door were lit, shining a sickly yellow into the night. She pulled the door open, grimacing when her hand came away sticky.
The inside of the establishment was just as dingy as the door was. The overhead lighting was dull, and when she looked up she saw the glass had been clouded over by years of cigarette smoke, just like the windows that no longer allowed any outside light in. There were barely any other patrons this late at night. A few solitary men scattered around the high tops, nursing their lonely drinks. A pair was hunched over a broken pool table in the corner, their arguing carried through the otherwise quiet bar.
Luka was easy to find. His blue hair was like a beacon in the melancholy building. He was perched on a stool at the end of the bar, hunched over his own half-empty glass. As Marinette approached him, her concern grew. There were already two other empty glasses in front of him. Gently she laid a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't even flinch, didn't even turn to look at her until she opened her mouth and softly called his name.
"Luka."
Slowly he twisted to look at her, a carefully blank look on his face. Luka didn't say anything, downing the last of his drink and slamming the glass back to the countertop, causing the other glasses to rattle in protest. Like a ghost the bartender appeared, resting another full glass at Luka's elbow, accepting the money the guitarist slid across the bar to him.
Luka took a swig, polishing off a quarter of his drink before finally addressing her, "What do you want, Marinette?"
The blankness in his voice startled her. Before, Luka's voice had always been so warm, so bright and sweet. Now he sounded more like his sister, Juleka. A carefully neutral tone that betrayed no emotion. Marinette pulled her hand away, frowning at him in confusion.
"What are you doing over here?" she asked. "You ran off after the show, and I haven't seen you since."
Luka made a dismissive noise at her questions, turning back to hunch over the bar and swallow more of his drink. Marinette was beginning to grow worried.
"Oh you know, just drowning my miseries." His answer made no sense to Marinette. What was there to be miserable about? They had been happy and making out no more than two hours ago! How could things change so drastically in such a short amount of time?
Hopping up on the barstool next to him, Marinette reached out and gently pried Luka's fingers off his glass to pull it out of his grasp and closer to her. She was grateful when he didn't seem to protest the action; she knew plenty of belligerent drunks.
"Luka," she started softly, "please talk to me."
His response was instant and biting. "Go talk to your boyfriend!"
What? Now Marinette was thoroughly confused. Though they hadn't put it in so many words, she had been fairly certain that she and Luka had been dating. Or at least they had been approaching that fact.
"What are you talking about, Luka? You're my boyfriend." Or at least she had hoped he was.
Luka rounded on her, his face full of hurt and anger, his voice dripping venom. "I was never your boyfriend! You were just some rock star groupie I kept around to keep the party going!"
Marinette was stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing but releasing no sound. Her brain struggled to process exactly what Luka had just spewed at her, let alone formulate a reply. Distantly, as sounds began catching back up with her, she realized Luka had been talking the entire time and she hadn't heard a single word of it after his initial outburst. He was still glaring at her, but she didn't see the hurt in his eyes anymore, just the simmering anger. Her mouth snapped shut and he turned away from her, taking his drink back to grip it in trembling hands.
"Just go away, Dupain-Cheng." Luka raised the glass, ready to polish another one off. "You probably weren't even a good lay."
The stool she had been sitting on clattered to the floor when she abruptly stood, her hand stinging from where it had connected with his cheek. Never once in all their interactions had Luka called her anything other than Marinette. And to hear the total dismissal of her last name nailed what he had been saying deep into her heart. He was staring wide-eyed at something past her, his cheek slowly reddening, and his drink dribbling to the floor from where it had spilled onto the bar top.
"Fuck you, Couffaine," Marinette bit out, hoping that the heartbreak she was feeling was buried deep under the loathing she felt for Luka at this very moment.
She left him where he was, staring at some unknown spot on a far wall, letting the bar door slam behind her. Marinette stormed across the street and back onto the tour bus, fighting the tears that threatened to escape the entire way. She made a beeline for the beds in the rear, not even bothering to mumble out a reply to Marc and Alix's concerned questions. Shoving her pile of things from earlier to the end of the bed, she slipped under the covers and rolled towards the wall, only to be confronted with the picture of herself and Luka smiling at the bar.
The tears started in earnest, blurring the hard edges of the picture. Marinette ripped it off the wall, feeling it crumple in her clenched fist. Even after everything that had happened, she still didn't want to give it up. Her tense fingers eased, and she stared down at the picture for a long moment before raising it and ripping it down the middle before she could rethink her decision. Letting the pieces fall in the crack between the bed and the wall, where it could stay forever for all she cared, Marinette curled into a ball under her comforter, muffling her sobs as well as she could.
Chapter 5 has been on AO3 forever. You're more likely to find updates there. Also remember this says endgame Lukanette.
