Well, finally 2022 has arrived where I live, so I thought I'd make a contribution to sending off the abomination that was last year in story format. I hope everyone is having a safe and comfortable New Year. It's hard to believe I've been contributing to this series for over three years now. It's been an interesting and fun ride so far. With that said, I want to take a moment to show some gratitude. I have one long-time reviewer, here from the very first baby one-shot I posted and to you I just want to say a massive thank you for continuing to read and post comments on most every chapter that goes up, no matter how infrequent. It means a lot that anyone would take time from their day to read something I've written and share their thoughts on it. It's helped me to improve and I appreciate it very much. I also commend you on being the most patient dang follower of any content on the internet. Thank you!
About the story -this one is a companion piece to "Iris", another chapter in this collection, which was posted quite some time ago. It's set close to a year after the events in Iris, and ultimately concludes the romantic arch from that story. The song this is set to, if it's not obvious, is "Waiting For a Girl Like You" by Foreigner, which is my latest musical addition. As always, the pairing featured is Lukanette, so enjoy if it's your thing and read stories you like instead it it isn't.
In the dark of the night, with snow steadily and heavily coming down, a lone figure makes their way down the street toward the one pub with a lit sign on this block. With the weather predicted to worsen, it may well be one of the very few open establishments in town currently. The walk had only been a few short minutes from his apartment to where he stands now, in front of the entrance. But it had felt so much longer.
There were originally no plans to come out and spend New Year's Eve at the pub drinking, but with no other holiday plans to speak of, he decided it would at least be better than moping in his apartment. After all the weeks of avoiding this place, it might be good for him to see some friendly faces and even if not, getting in out of the cold is great, too. At any rate, he holds a strong suspicion that the individual he's been avoiding coming to this bar to keep out of the way of is not likely to be here tonight. The relief of opening the door to a heated indoor setting after a solitary trek through the silence of a dark and snowy night hits just right.
"Welcome, man!" Calls a familiar voice from behind the counter as the bell installed over the door is triggered by it swinging open and signals the newcomer's arrival. "Have a seat anywhere and we'll be right with ya!"
Head turning in the direction of the bar, he spots the familiar man who had just called out to him. Back turned to the crowded and noisy room, Nino is selecting a bottle of alcohol for a customer's mixed drink. Actually a bit happy not to be recognized right off the bat, Luka glances around for an inconspicuous place to take up residence for the remainder of the evening. Noticing that there is an open seat on the end of the bar next to the window, Luka heads over and makes that his space for the evening.
"What can I get ya man?" Nino seems to have noticed from his periphery that his new patron has chosen a seat and is remaining attentive while preparing someone's else's cocktail.
"Rum and coke on the rocks, strong please." Luka may not have been here recently, but he still doesn't need a menu to know what his selection will be. "And a couple sliders to go with it."
As he pulls his phone from the pocket of his puffy winter coat and lowers his hood, he notices Nino turn to look his way just after handing off the drink he'd just made to another customer. For the life of him, Luka can't decide whether he's pleased to be recognized or not. At the very least, he'd hoped it might be a while before the bartender took notice of him or got around to collecting an order. He has been intentionally avoiding coming to this bar for about a month now, after all.
"Is that who I think it is?" Nino's curious inquiry comes from around the other side of the larger man in the barstool next to Luka's just before his face comes into view.
For obvious reasons, it makes the musician feel somewhat sheepish showing up here after so long. The man with the blue highlights simply offers an awkward wave with the hand not occupied by his phone, eyes darting quickly up from the device in his hand to gauge the other person's reaction to his presence. Much to his surprise and relief, Nino's face lights up when he realizes his suspicion is correct.
"Aww…shit man! It is you!" The enthusiasm in the bar tender's voice stuns poor Luka, who is as lost now as the other startled patrons, some of whom now staring thanks to the commotion. "Where've ya been all this time?"
"Around…" Glancing around at the other concerned customers apologetically, Luka doesn't elaborate much more on this thought.
"Well not around here, for sure…" Leaning over the counter, the next words out of the man's mouth just about freeze the oxygen in the space around them, "Well…whatever, since you're here now…I need your number man! It's important!"
For a moment the poor musician is too stunned by the sudden request to say a thing. A few people hurriedly return to their conversations and food, while others simply continue to stare. The man in the next seat scoffs before getting up and heading for another place to sit. It takes another moment or two for Luka to get past the shock of this out-of-the-blue request to begin formulating a reply.
"Uhm…not that I'm not flattered…but don't you think you should get to know me a bit better first?" If he had picked up any actual romantic motivation from Nino, he would have refrained from joking about this. Somehow -whether it be the fact that Luka is sure Nino is happily in a committed relationship or the unnatural urgency in the man's tone as he had asked for Luka's contact information- he innately knows this is a matter in which responding with a quip is appropriate. The two men lock eyes for a moment, one becoming increasingly amused as the other realizes his slight blunder.
Though a bit flushed as he looks around to notice the prying gazes of onlookers and takes in the remark from the amused looking musician at his bar, Nino laughs out loud in response.
"I'll try to keep that in mind in the future." He arrived late at the realization that he has been drawing far too much attention to the two of them, but now that he's here, he's keeping up with the pace of Luka's wit just fine. "Nothing to see here folks. Go back to your business, and remember, beer is free starting 10 minutes to midnight!"
A round of excited hoots and hollers breaks out in the tiny, crowded establishment for a brief blip in time before all seems to settle back in to routine. In the newfound but still relative privacy, the conversation continues between the two of them.
"Cute, but you're not my type. I'm asking for Marinette." Offering this explanation seems to only raise Luka's defenses. Puzzled by the way the guitarist seems to stiffen, Nino falls silent, studying the dour expression that has settled over Luka's typically carefree features. The behavior seems so out of character that the other man is thrown completely off-kilter and is rendered speechless for a moment or two.
"That so?" Honestly, he's not at all impressed to hear this. He's been trying -and admittedly failing at times- not to take a simple change of mind as a personal slight. People are allowed to do that, after all. He just has trouble imagining why it is that he is only just now being prioritized. "How interesting."
A little taken aback by this comment, Nino remains speechless, blinking once or twice in a state of understandable bewilderment. As he opens his mouth to make the obvious inquiry, he is called upon for a refill by another patron.
"Hang on a sec, Luka," The bartender and DJ stepping away allows him a quiet moment to reflect -one he really doesn't need or want. He's had this on his mind far too often the last couple of weeks as it stands.
It must have been close to a year ago now he ran into a distraught Marinette in this very bar after years of next to no contact. In that first conversation, she opened up about her divorce and they'd shared a few drinks. He walked her to her apartment, she invited him in for a while and they had a heartfelt and frank discussion about the reasons why it didn't work with her husband. This led to realizing they had some pretty big things in common.
The foundation for the bond that began to develop that evening was laid in a single instant and led to a moment of weakness where a mistake was very nearly made. Luckily, he'd still had some sense left in his head and managed to practice enough basic restraint to refrain from kissing her. Having left his number scrawled in ink on her arm, he'd promised not to be a stranger. A promise he kept -making plans to hang out often as friends getting reacquainted. Though many other things changed rapidly over a matter of months, their relationship only grew more sturdy. As her design business took off and she was able to expand, he was there for her. Even as he and the rest of his band transitioned away from making music to pursue various other goals and interests, they managed to find time to meet. When he finally opened the music shop he'd dreamed of owning, she was there to celebrate that achievement with him.
He promised himself not to rush it. He didn't want to come off as over-eager and scare her off. No, this time around things would be done right -handled with care and nurtured slowly. Take it a single step at a time, day by day and let whatever is to develop do so naturally. Well, that's what he told himself for the first couple months, anyway. How quickly his feelings began to outgrow that mindset. The rapid increase in the depth of everything was both exhilarating and jarring. The instantaneous connection they'd made that spring evening in her small apartment remained a constant presence in the back of his mind in all their interactions. It was difficult to keep the most urgent of all these thoughts and emotions from forcing its way into a position of control in his mind, overriding the rational and practical approach he'd decided upon. That thought being, of course, that it feels like it's taken way too long to get to a point where any relationship could make him feel this way.
Everything just felt so right. There were so many elements in that friendship for those in many romantic relationships to envy -secure attachment, good, open communication and a general sense of peace. Though he'd entered into this with a practical mindset and they've fostered something wonderful, it was clearer each passing day that it wasn't feasible to maintain. The objective approach was failing him this time around. After months of this same song and dance, he finally gave up on struggling against his own emotions. It was time to concede defeat and admit his feelings were too strong to keep forcibly stifling them.
One day, while they were enjoying lunch in a small bistro not too far from Champ De Mars, he finally decided enough was enough and asked her to go out on a real date with him.
The way those bluebell eyes danced joyfully warmed him. Her reply was an immediate and enthusiastic yes.
Imagine his surprise when a few days later via text, she'd completely changed her mind, refusing to meet for the date they'd agreed on. Imagine his disappointment when following this, she'd not spoken to him even once since. Of course, it seemed so unlike her that he knew he had to confront her in person to get answers and see if there was hope of working it out. However, he hadn't run across her in any of their usual hang out places. Asking Juleka turned up nothing useful -she hadn't heard from her friend for sometime, either. This was when the woman's safety became a huge concern, and he briefly considered just going to her apartment. But if she didn't want to see him, was it okay to do that? Somehow, showing up unannounced at her home seemed so wrong. It would be like he was cornering her alone and it felt slimy to think about. As worried as he was, he just couldn't bring himself to do it when he was uncertain she even wanted to have anything to do with him.
Going back to the bar after missing her in all the other places they frequented together had become somewhat of a frightening notion to the man. Either he'd run into her and actually be able to confront her, which could potentially result in a scene in a public space or he wouldn't see her there either and become even more frustrated and depressed by the situation. So, he simply avoided it altogether. Though not one to avoid his problems in ordinary circumstances, this was different because it involved someone else. A human he respects, with their own agency, perspective on and feelings about this situation. Given the complete one-eighty she did on the date, he couldn't help but harbor worries over what else she may have been having second thoughts in regards to. He had wracked his brain so many times, trying to turn up anything he might have said or done that caused her to suddenly shut down. It's so easy to convince yourself that you've done harm when you're combing through fine details of interactions looking for any minute thing that could have resulted in miscommunication.
In the end, the option of going to her and settling all this seemed off the table as options go. More and more, it began to seem as though what was best would be to wait it out and let her come around in her own time, so that's what he chose. In turn, unfortunately, his concern for her and frustration over all this had only begun to fester, and now he's just one fine, hot mess.
"Luka…yo…hey, Luka!" The concerned voice of his bartender friend relieves him of his spiraling thoughts at long last and his head darts up from the dark phone screen to look at the person speaking. The brief flash of gratitude that the thoughts can be temporarily held at bay is almost entirely overshadowed by the strong disdain for the conflict he knows is probably coming.
"O-oh…s-sorry man…" Muttering out a quiet acknowledgement that he'd been unintentionally tuning out being spoken to, Luka attempts to shift the subject away from what had most consumed his thoughts for weeks. "So…how about that drink?"
"Hold on man…you gonna explain what was that all about?" Brow furrowed in confusion, a questioning gleam hangs in his brown eyes.
"I really would rather just have the drink." There probably is no way to avoid this conflict, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to make an attempt. This being the situation, he mutters this short reply as his eyes slide away from their contact with Nino's to focus his phone as he unlocks it. He tries to refrain from pulling up his conversation with the designer as he stares at the small device. It won't do him any good to make another attempt at analyzing it and he knows it.
"What's with you tonight? This isn't like you, dude." Though controlling his tone as best he can, an accusatory lilt creeps in. "Marinette has been feeling so hurt. She thinks you're avoiding her."
Hearing this completely snaps his frayed thread of patience.
"She what?" The only thing he can feel is disbelief at the words he's hearing. "I don't know what you mean, but if anything, I'm the one who feels like I'm being avoided…" After all the agonizing going on internally the last few weeks, finally speaking these feelings out loud feels a little too cathartic. "You have no idea how confused I am right now. I've had no clue what's been happening for weeks." Voice coming out a little louder than intended, he realizes he's more worked up than he wanted to get here.
"What are you talking about? She comes hobbling down here asking if you've been by as often as she can manage to make it out. She always leaves so disappointed and I'm tired of seeing her feel like that. I don't know what happened, but you need to fix it." The bartender's voice is not raised, but it remains stern as he issues this admonishment.
"I'm talking about this." Having pulled up the last text from Marinette, he turns the phone to show the other man. It's not much to go on, for sure. There, in the chat bubble are six curt words reading simply:
[Marinette November 30, 1:00pm: I'm sorry I don't want to]
The message which trailed off into radio silence.
Luka continues to hold the phone out before the other man, allowing a moment for him to take it in. He watches as Nino's eyes flood with realization once he reads it. "I was obviously upset, but I understand if she changed her mind. I just wanted to…I don't know…actually end things properly if that's what she-" Nino's forehead has dropped into his palm as he shakes his head, a befuddled expression coming to rest on his visible features. He doesn't speak for a moment. He can't. This whole thing is just one big, stupid cluster.
As the other man stands before him at a loss for what to say, a sudden realization occurs to Luka. Some of the words Nino had used stick out to him from amongst their somewhat heated dialogue. 'As often as she can manage to make it out,' and 'hobbles.' What in the world is that supposed to mean? Has something happened? "Wait a minute…what do you mean she hobbles?" A new wave of worry floods the musician as he stares across the bar at the other man.
The next words out of the bartender's mouth end this discussion, sending Luka scrambling for the door and back out into the stormy winter night in an instant. As quick as he can make his chilled feet move through the heavy snow, he does, silently thanking his friend for sticking to his guns in spite of how obstinate he'd been acting. Nino didn't just win an argument, he might have saved an entire relationship. Hell, there hadn't been an argument in the first place. Clearly there is a story here Luka knows nothing about and he's been operating on assumptions this whole time.
It feels like the longest fifteen minutes of his life, but he eventually reaches the front door of the person he set out to contact. Body consumed with shivers after his walk from the pub to her front door, his frozen brain lacks the filter which would make him hesitate before knocking. Reaching out with a trembling arm, he gives the door a few loud raps with the back of his knuckles.
"I will be a few minutes but I promise I am going to get there." Her cheery voice calls to him from inside the door, kicking up a storm of emotions within. What if she's happy? What if she isn't? Will she even want to see him? Will she refuse? Cuss him out? Would this be considered overstepping? His mind shuffles through the possibilities as he waits for the occupant to make it to the door.
His heart about leaps into his throat when he can hear the locking mechanism turning over. The door swings out into the hallway where he stands, revealing a young blue-haired fashion designer, dressed for bed and leaning on a pair of crutches, her left leg casted. Swallowing thickly, he must remind himself that staring is not polite. Instead, he raises his eyeline so that it may align with hers. When their eyes finally connect, it feels almost as if he is gazing through her, rather than looking at her. He feels frozen, all applicable and useful thoughts abandoning him.
"Luka?" Her startled voice seems to restart his stalled mind, her face suddenly coming back into focus. At this very second, a million thoughts flood his mind at once, all of them demanding to be spoken at the same time.
"Marinette…" Her name is the first thing that tumbles haphazardly over his lips as he does his best to maintain the eye contact he established, "Marinette…I was such an idiot…If I had just made myself come over and talk to you instead of freaking out…I'm just…I'm really, genuinely sorry. I let myself overthink all this -it didn't need to be so-" The words don't even all make it out before he hears the clatter of objects falling to the floor. Focusing on her movements more closely, he realizes she has dropped the crutches and is doing her best to move toward him. Her expression is unreadable as she scrambles in his direction, telling the man nothing of her intent. Expecting the worst, he braces himself. Though she never seemed like a person inclined to be violent when angry, he can't blame her if this is retribution either.
Almost to the surprise of both people, she stumbles and falls against his body, her arms flying out on pure impulse to catch herself. Whether or not she intended this action to result in an embrace, she now has both arms wrapped around him and clings tightly to his body for support. Instinctually, his arms move to embrace her in return, but he freezes before letting himself do so, still not certain this contact had been her intention. For a moment he studies what he can see of her body language, hoping for a clue as to how to react.
A quiet and somewhat tense moment passes.
When he starts to think she simply might need help to stand after tripping, a reaction finally occurs. Like this awkward embrace itself, her next action is also not what he expects. The woman nuzzles into his chest, hands clutching fistfuls of his winter coat. Her embrace only tightens as she draws nearer to him. Warmth ripples though his body, chasing off the last of the bitter cold he'd waded through to get here. Softening immediately, the man wastes no time in returning the affection. God, it feels so good to hold her.
Suddenly, he is pushed roughly away.
Hellfire raging in her bluebell eyes, the young lady glares up at him. Understandably, she's every bit as angry as one might expect.
He swallows thickly, awaiting her next move.
Annoyed frown deepening as she gazes up into his alpine eyes, the designer pulls one hand back, clapping it somewhat roughly against his chest. It's more a pat than an actual hit and with his thick coat on, all he really feels is the slightest pressure from the act. This most certainly is a rebuke -though a half-hearted one at best.
"You are a massive jerk." A scolding he has earned in right.
"True." His companion is correct in her observation, so there really is very little else to say in response here. "I'm sorry."
"Nino texted me about some things after you left the pub," Sighing, Marinette eases herself into a more upright position and glances at him with a somewhat weak smile, "Why don't you help me get inside and we can talk?"
His jaw falls slack for a moment as he looks at the woman. What he had expected was expressions of frustration or anger. Instead, she barely even chastised him after this whole mess. Now she's even inviting him into her home and is willing to talk through the details of the trouble between them. For a moment or two, all his thoughts are centered on how much he admires that patient and compassionate nature of hers because right now he doesn't really feel entitled to the benefit of the doubt. After shaking off the awestruck feeling, he nods and helps support her weight as they move inside her apartment.
About twenty minutes and two glasses of sparkling cider later, the two sit on her couch in the midst of hashing out the cluster of nonsense that is the last thirty-ish days. She listens patiently, watching in attentive silence as he explains his side of the story.
"So, basically...you avoided me because you thought somehow you'd upset me." This summation of events is quite a lot shorter than his version, but is nevertheless correct. Luka nods, examining her features for clues. What does she actually think of all this? "I don't get it. You're normally the kind of guy who would just come and talk to me about something like that."
Okay, that's a pretty fair remark.
"I know. I wanted to, but I kinda panicked." It's not a good excuse, but it is the start of an explanation for his out of character reaction.
"You panicking?" Scrunching up her face in confusion and disbelief, the woman shakes her head. "It's a little hard to imagine."
"Believe it or not, I'm human, just as prone to overthinking as anyone else," a slightly more solid retort helps him make his case, "I really thought you might not want to see me. I wanted to try and respect that, even as much as I wanted to work things out."
"And you thought you deserved silent treatment because?" The honest confusion in her bluebell eyes strikes a chord in him.
"Not the slightest clue. I tried like you wouldn't believe to figure it out, though." Try he did, which only ended up making his whole predicament worse.
For a moment the woman meets his gaze, studying the man in silent wonderment. In her life, she's never crossed paths with another person who can come close to matching his natural good-natured personality. It truly is a feat to be reckoned with.
"I can't freaking believe it..." the woman trails off, true astonishment in her tone, "...Luka, you're actually too nice for your own good."
A moment of silence passes where he digests this insight. But it doesn't take long for the laughter to consume him as he drops his forehead into his hand and shakes his head, having realized the pin-point accuracy of his companion's observation. Now he can truly appreciate how Nino must have felt earlier while tolerating all of his obstinate responses. It must have been difficult to keep a straight face there at the end, so credit where credit is due. Silently, as his laughter subsides, he sends another thanks out to his oh-so-patient friend.
"I wouldn't call some of the crap I've pulled in the last few weeks 'nice', but I guess you're not wrong, either." He finally manages, shooting her an amused grin.
In return, Marinette finally cracks a smile.
"So, now you know what I've been thinking," leading with this, he waits until she nods acknowledgement to continue, "but I'm still curious about this." He passes her his phone, having unlocked the device and pulled up the app with her last text message appearing in the chat window. Studying her features in the fractions of a second it takes her to glance over the message, he is unable to draw any conclusions and must await an answer regardless of his impatience. Their gazes align as she reaches out to pass the phone back to him. Wearing a sheepish smile, the bluenette shakes her head before hanging it shamefully, covering her face with both hands. Curiosity piqued, the young man is practically on the edge of his seat anticipating this answer.
"Well, this whole stupid mess isn't entirely on you. The reason I haven't been talking to you is because I broke my phone that day." As if to further illustrate her embarrassment, a bit of pink color begins to show in her cheeks. For his part, Luka only has more questions.
"You broke your phone?" Not much of a follow up, but he wants to make sure he's following her side of things.
"Yup." Capped with a slow nod, this single word reply does little to alleviate his confusion.
"And you broke your leg." He tries again, hoping for more info this time.
"Uh-huh." No dice.
"Okaaaaay..." He drawls, feeling more confused than ever. "You gonna tell me how or are you hoping I have a crystal ball?"
"Nino didn't tell you that already?" Now she also appears confused.
"Sure he did. I'm just asking you again because questions are fun." This small quip actually does elicit a short laugh from Marinette, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement when they finally refocus on him.
"It's embarrassing, so I don't really like bringing it up." She really had held out hope that her friend had explained her mishap to Luka so that she wouldn't have to tell this story again, but it looks like that won't be the case today. "Both things kinda happened at the same time. I had already gotten ready, because we...had plans..." She trails off at this point, suddenly worried that bringing up the failed plans they had might upset him. Before continuing, she eyes him cautiously, wondering if the mention of it is having the effect she suspects it might. However, Luka simply sits, listening patiently with no intent to interject with thoughts and realizing that's how it will stay, she continues.
"I got called as I was leaving the house about being needed at the site of a shoot to make a few last-minute alterations for the model. I grabbed my supplies and ran over, hoping to get it over with fast. But when I got there, the alterations ended up being some repair work, too. Somehow, I managed to take care of it in less time than it looked like it was gonna take, but..." This time when she trails off, it's more out a genuine hesitancy to continue telling the story. Her face flushes more deeply, an involuntary and unconscious wince the automatic reaction to an unpleasant memory. "I got in a rush because time had gotten away from me. I pulled out my phone and started to text you when I tripped. After losing balance, I kinda threw my phone accidentally while trying not to fall. It didn't work, obviously, and I fell down this embankment..."
"Hold on. You fell down an embankment?!" At this point he can't help but to interrupt the story out of sheer disbelief. He needs to know he heard that right. Just where in the hell was she?
"Uhm...yeah, well...the shoot was for my winter line, so it was outdoors for more realistic photos," pouting through this clarification, the woman continues her story, "it had just snowed a bit the night before. I tripped over a root I didn't see cause I wasn't paying close enough attention. I fell down the embankment and cracked my leg on this boulder, 'hit it just right' is what the doctor said."
Good god. It's apparently once again his turn to not believe what he's hearing. All this time he was so worried she had changed her mind about their relationship that day. He straight agonized over the idea that she may never speak to him again and he wouldn't ever find out why. In the end, it turns out those panicked assumptions were the total opposite of reality. The woman fell and got injured because she had gotten into a rush to come and meet him. Now he just feels like an even bigger jackass.
"Jesus, Mari..." Sighing at length, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch, sure he's the biggest idiot alive. After a moment of mulling that idea over, he turns his head to one side so he can meet her eyes from the place he's chosen to lay down in defeat. "First of all, I'm just glad your injuries weren't any worse," she smiles through her sheepish expression, grateful for the concern as he continues, "but I'm also sorry I'm the biggest idiot on Earth. This whole time I thought you never wanted to see me again. All I had to do was come and talk to you."
"Aww, come on Luka, that's not true," In a showing of support, she extends her arm, placing her hand near his shoulder on the back of the couch. She isn't able to quite reach him, but the intent behind the action is obvious. A small smirk ghosts over her features before she speaks again. "I'm sure somewhere out there, there's a bigger idiot than you."
Though he still feels awful in regards to both her getting injured and his actions, this remark does get a small laugh out of the man. Her comedic timing is improving bit by bit. But as the story begins to sink in, he remembers he still has a few other questions he'd like to have answered.
"So, I know now that you didn't mean you wanted to cancel. What were you trying to say?" Finally lifting his head up off the couch, he smiles as he watches her realize she'd never told him that part.
"Oh! Right, I guess I kinda forgot that. 'Sorry, I don't want to have to do this on the first date. Work called and I might be late.' Or something like that, anyway." Each new revelation is another anvil marked 'stupid' that falls from above to knock him on the head old-school cartoon style.
"Ugh," he groans, dropping his head once more onto the back of the couch, feeling downright mortified by his behavior, "I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole."
"Funny, that was my wish too, up until just a little bit ago." Another well-timed quip that makes him laugh out loud.
"Ouch. But also, I totally earned that." This time when he lifts his head from the pillow, he shifts the arm next to her hand back and somewhat hesitantly places his own hand down over hers. Surprise gleams in those bluebell pools as she locks eyes with Luka, her mouth falling agape. He feels a little rush of heat move up along the back of his neck under that questioning gaze and almost pulls his hand away reflexively, feeling scrutinized. What stops him is his companion. Leaning as far forward as she can with the cast in the way, the bluenette woman threads her fingers through the spaces in between his and applies a soft squeeze. He fails to stifle a gasp at the lover-like display of tenderness.
'Oh shit,' He realizes while looking into those adoring deep blue eyes, 'I missed this so much. So much more...way more than I realized. I...missed her.'
"So, you broke your phone, but obviously wanted to contact me. How come you didn't just ask someone to use their phone or use your computer or something?" He wonders aloud, genuinely curious, but also trying to shift the mood out of one that was feeling increasingly romantic. After weeks of inadvertently being at odds, the two of them are just beginning to make up with one another. Getting caught up by a romantic mood could lead to taking advantage of her in a vulnerable state. That isn't something that he's willing to allow himself to do. He'd prefer she be the one to initiate things if they are to take a more romantic turn. He knows what it is he wants, but he can only know what she wants if she makes it clear or states it outright.
Her answer to his question is to gesture over her shoulder. Following the direction she points him in, he notices a box with a picture of a laptop on the outside. His eyes scan the object for a minute before they line up once again with hers, not entirely satisfied with this as the conclusive response.
"My old computer was in the blue screen of death stage of it's life, so my parents got me a new one for Christmas. But I haven't set it up yet because," Using her free hand, she gestures once more, this time to her casted leg, "kinda a pain trying to get it all out of the box, set it up, connect wires and set up accounts while gimping around. I live alone, and the person who might have been able to help wasn't talking to me, for some reason."
"Okay, fair enough." Though he concedes that point, the matter of why she didn't use someone else's phone is a curiosity that remains.
As if she can see the question hanging in his eyes, Marinette addresses this one next.
"Don't hate me...I know I need to be better about it...but I let technology remember numbers for me. It would have been a waste to ask to use someone else's phone when I had no clue what your number was." Now it's her turn to appear sheepish under his incredulous stare.
"Wha- How? You didn't know my number? We'd been hanging out for months!" He pulls his hand from hers, sitting up as if that might help him to better retain this information. In this day and age, it's not all that strange. In life, most people his age rely on tech to remember their passwords, numbers and other important information for them. Still, it's just so silly not to at least know some of that information precisely because of situations like this one! Is he the only person in the world who still memorizes things that are important to know?
"I know! I'm sorry," She squeaks out sheepishly, unsure how else to answer, "I'll make sure to remember it this time, though!"
"Alright, I guess I can forgive you." He tries to keep his tone purely playful, but on the inside he's absolutely ecstatic. Butterflies swarm his stomach at the words she uses. 'This time.' Implying that she's already made an unconscious choice to give him a second chance, perhaps? "But only because it sounds like you're willing to forgive me too?" Less a statement than a hopeful inquiry, this set of words has her gaze snapping back into alignment with his.
Anxiously, he studies the pensive look she wears while quietly pondering his question. 'Please, whatever you say, just let it not be a 'no'.' His mind supplies unwanted commentary as he waits.
"Hmm...well...maybe..." quite possibly the most promising sounding 'maybe' in history. "You could...stay for a while and I can think about it while we ring in the New Year." 'Yes' would have been a shorter and still accurate way to state it, sure. Right now though, she knows he is likely considering taking his leave for the night, secure in the knowledge that things between them have been settled. The man's sense of propriety and inclination toward gentlemanly behavior are both excellent qualities -qualities she has no shortage of appreciation for. But tonight, she doesn't want that. What she wants is for him to stay and her hope is that he will feel more inclined to keep her company if an invitation is extended.
"The New Year?" What in the hell is the time anyway? Pulling his phone out of the pocket he'd stowed it in earlier, he turns on the screen, seeing the current time is 11:25pm. "Holy...when it did it get this lat-" he is a little caught off guard by the impatient edge to the woman's imploring stare and realizes he's yet to actually acknowledge her suggestion. "Uhm...I mean, sure. Yeah. I'd love to."
"Good save." Tossing out another small playful comment, she makes to get to her feet and noticing what appears to be some struggling, Luka stands up.
"I-Is there...anything I can get for you?" A little anxious under her befuddled gaze, the young man fumbles a bit with his words.
"There's pie in the fridge. Would you like some?" She asks, carefully maneuvering her leg around and onto the coffee table as Luka shuffles to get out of the way. He nods, forgoing a verbal remark. Carefully, she shuffles so that her casted leg is sitting on the edge of the coffee table, then uses one hand to push herself up and the other to help guide the casted leg to the floor. Meanwhile, her male companion, who had been about to ask if she wanted help up, can only stand and stare as she brings herself up to balance on her good leg entirely on her own.
"What?" Grinning at him, she motions for him to grab the crutches. "I'm a person in a cast who lives alone. I gotta get creative to get around on my own."
Passing her the crutches, he just shrugs and grins. "I can be impressed, can't I?"
"I guess, a little." Shifting the pair of support devices into the proper position, she moves past him and into the kitchen, getting in to the fridge and pulling out a pumpkin pie and some whipped cream. He steps into the small kitchenette behind her, a bit puzzled. Though she lives alone and doesn't appear to have been expecting company, the pie appears to be freshly made. It's way more than she would eat on her own in a night. Was she maybe expecting someone else she's familiar enough to eat pie with in her pajamas? His questioning gaze shifts between her and the food for just a moment.
"Maman and papa brought it by when they visited earlier. They didn't want me to have to worry about getting there to celebrate in the snow with a cast on my leg. Everyone's been kind of...overprotective since the accident and I haven't really been going out. So, if you're worried about other guests, you don't need to be." The way she emphasizes the word 'other' implies a certain type of company -one of the date variety- is what he was thinking of. A rather apt educated guess. Feeling his skin burn with a flush, his eyes fall away from hers, not missing the self-satisfied twinkle they hold.
"Anyway," Clearing his throat, he takes the pie from her and sets it on the counter, removing the lid from the container it was brought in, "looks great. Let's cut into it."
Before either of them really know what's happening, she places a hand down on the counter for balance and leans in to give this darling of a man a soft peck on the cheek. His breath catches in his throat for a moment, eyes widening. Strictly speaking, they aren't dating and they're not lovers and though she has kissed him on the cheek a number of times during their friendship, it's still surprising she is comfortable enough to do this now. When taking everything that has happened between them in the last few weeks into account, it is more than just a little surprising. The contact lasts only a fraction of a moment before she pulls away and when he turns to look at her, the smile she wears just about reduces him to gelatin. Stars in the heavens, it has got to be the most scorching gaze he's ever seen her direct his way. Reaching up, he rubs the back of his neck, a mixture of elation and gratitude making him feel as though he is walking on air.
"What exactly was that for?" He just can barely keep the startled edge from his tone as this question slips out.
"I wanted to." The bluenette shrugs shrugs it off, turning toward the counter and pulling a pie cutter and two forks from the drawer in front of her. "Well, that and you're being cute. Do you object to any of that?" She knows this is a self-answering question, but waits for a moment anyway, peeking at him from her periphery as she pulls two plates out for the freshly cut pie.
"Hey, a compliment's a compliment. I don't mind being cute, if it's what you like." 'And I'm obviously not complaining about getting kissed.' Though it's the truth, he keeps that last part to himself for now. He picks up both plates as she moves the dirtied pie server into the sink and stores the food back in her refrigerator.
When she returns to the couch, he gets up to help her sit, placing the pillow against the armrest on the far side of the couch. Looking at it, then up at him, Marinette simply shakes her head before explaining herself.
"Would you mind if I sat next to you?" Comes her bashful request.
"No, that's fine." Quickly collecting the throw pillow and tossing it close to the spot he'd been sitting in, he helps the designer to sit down so that her casted leg is facing away from him and then hands her food to her. Easing his body down in the remaining space next to her, he picks up his own plate and helps himself to the first few bites of his food. After a minute or two, it occurs to him that his companion seems somewhat frozen in place beside him. He turns to look at the woman, noticing she isn't touching her food and hasn't leaned back into a position that would surely be a lot more comfortable for her. Her gaze is directed at him. One glance, and he can tell what she's thinking. Smiling softly, he allows his upper half to fall back, pressing into the back of the furniture he sits on, shooting his companion an encouraging smile before speaking. Hopefully, seeing him feeling more at ease will help her to feel that way, too.
"It's fine if you want to lean back on me." Leaving the choice up to her, he moves out of his reclined position for a moment to grab the remote from the coffee table and then settles back in. "I'm gonna turn on one of the countdowns."
The first news channel he flips to has live feeds from many celebrations around the world. Turning the volume to a tolerable level, the remote is discarded on the end table next to him and he continues eating his pie. Every few seconds, he peeks at his companion from the corners of his eyes. Is this anxiety related to the kiss on the cheek? Is she second guessing whether she wants this or not? Is there something else in play? He may not know the reason she's feeling anxious now when she seemed okay earlier, but he hopes she can relax. It will be difficult having a romantic relationship if she's uncomfortable getting close to him.
"O-okay..." Now feeling self-conscious over the kiss, Marinette takes the first couple bites of pie without moving from what is undoubtedly an uncomfortable position. After everything they've been through lately, it's extra important this moment not be screwed up. Pondering how to proceed, she continues enjoying her slice of pie.
It's only after he has begun to pay attention to one particular panel on the TV screen in which an interviewer is walking around in the cold talking to people attending one of the live celebrations that he feels her back begin to lightly press against his side. A lot of mental energy goes into trying to not stiffen or jump reflexively. To keep himself from grinning like an idiot, he takes a large bite of his pie, which forces his facial muscles to focus on chewing. Finishing the food is short work and once the plate he'd been holding is safely out of the way on the end table, he extends one arm, draping it around her shoulders and letting the underside of his forearm rest against her collarbone. In a display of affection, he lightly squeezes the area of her shoulder in which his hand comes to rest.
A second or two later, there is a clink of her plate hitting the table and one of her small hands comes to rest over his before lacing their fingers together again. A strong surge of delight consumes her as she feels the gentle pressure of his hand squeezing hers and the woman is compelled to look at him. The unabashed adoration in his alpine gaze completely floors her, stealing her breath for a moment. A faint flush colors his cheeks as he gazes into her eyes, a gaze so deep and intense that she feels her own skin flush. After a few more seconds, she turns away. Behind her, she can hear him pick up his glass from the end table.
"We're gonna want something to toast with when the time comes." They don't need to, not really. This is only said to prevent over-active nerves from intervening and messing with the perfection of the evening. Glancing up at the TV, the bluenette can see the time is now 11:38pm. The last few minutes of the year are disappearing fast.
He gives her glass a soft shake for emphasis as he lifts it from the table, silently asking if she would like a refill and she nods her approval. Before he is even all the way up onto his feet, she has her arms placed behind her body, leaning onto them like support beams.
"You really are used to that thing, huh?" He observes casually as he heads back into the kitchen to pour them each another cider.
"Very," She huffs out, inflection decidedly a bit frustrated, "another three or four weeks and it's gone, hopefully."
"I bet it's annoying." The trip for more refreshments is short-lived, the man returning with both glasses freshly filled. His is placed onto the end table and he reclaims his spot on the couch before handing the other glass to her.
"Yes!" She snaps immediately in return and leans back into his body without hesitation this time, venting her frustrations. He wraps her in another one-armed embrace. "And sooooooooo damn itchy. Constantly."
Looking down upon the cast for the first time since arriving, he only now notices that the entire surface is practically covered with signatures. There are several names he doesn't recognize scrawled all over the thing and for a split second he feels a slight pang of envy. It's not that he doesn't want her to have other people in her life, or anything quite so possessive in nature. He just wishes he could have been there for her when she needed him the most, and instead he was letting assumptions cloud his judgement and acting like a petulant child. It's great that others were so clearly there to support her, it's just impossible to not wish it could have somehow been him.
She studies her companion, silently taking in the details of his expression as he gazes at her injured leg wrapped up in bandages. The knot in his brow. The frown on his lips. That disappointed look in his eyes. Sure, she's seen him emote before, but this...this is on a whole other level. It's so new to her -this vulnerable side of him is something she feels she hasn't seen so clearly until tonight. The resentment he's feeling toward himself burns in his eyes. The slight pout gives away hints of jealousy and regret. Sighing softly, she rotates her upper body toward him to get a better look. His eyes rise from the cast at long last, meeting hers again.
"Luka, I was so angry at you these last couple weeks. I had no idea what was going on, no way to contact you and the feeling of being intentionally avoided hurts -which I'm sure you know, cause that's what you thought was happening until today." As she looks into his eyes, she can see the regret begin to roil, growing more intense with each word and winces as if stung. Her words were meant to help them both reflect and make a point, not cause more damage. Better hurry along to the point. "But...I'm just glad this was all a crazy misunderstanding and I still get you have you in my life." At these words, a small, albeit half-hearted smile begins to brighten up his features and she feels herself mirroring that expression as she expresses her thoughts. "I don't want to be someone who lets an honest mistake screw up something awesome. You've got to know that I've already forgiven you by now. The point is, if I forgave you, don't you think you should forgive yourself?"
Hearing this, Luka feels a full smile completely shatter the sadness that's settled over him. She's right, of course. He can't dwell on things he can't change forever.
"Wow, what a speech!" The young man comments, the tone joking, despite the fact that he is genuinely impressed. "You sound a little like my therapist."
"Have been doing remote sessions," her smile reminiscent of bright rays of sun, "I'm glad some of it is sticking."
For a just a single split second -the most infinitesimal segment of time- each person feels the mood leading them in a particular direction. They can see the same thought in each other's eyes as he holds her and the searing eye contact continues.
Just as he considers going for it, another voice interrupts, coming from the flatscreen.
"With close to ten minutes left, the crowd is becoming more and more excited..." Both people jump, startled by the volume of these comments and turn to look away from one another again, picking up their glasses and taking a drink to distract themselves from the awkwardness of the interrupted moment. In a matter of seconds, they both decide they want to at least try to pay attention to the on-screen celebrations. He reaches out, picking up the remote and turning the volume up a few more notches. The next ten minutes are spent just trying to follow the many events happening in each part of the world as eager crowds of people say goodbye to one year, and collectively hope for the promise of something better in the next. Fireworks are bursting in a few panels, leading to a finale coming up in just a few moments. Reporters speak with guests at events in others.
In a panel on the lower left, as if knowing the couple on the couch in this living room needs a bit of persuasion, another young couple kisses. The two people on TV seem quite excited as they pull apart and wave for the camera.
Marinette feels a flush creep up along the back of her neck and glances at her companion out of the corners of her eyes only to find he has already turned back and is looking at her, too. Her heart rate picks up a little at how plain to see the intent in Luka's eyes is. Then again, what reason would he have to hide it? They've spent way too long dancing around the topic of what it is they want to be. Even if he really wanted to, he can't keep what he feels for her hidden any longer. It is a sentiment he sees reflected in her eyes. Neither person seems to be content to wait anymore.
"It's tradition to kiss on New Year's at midnight," the bluenette points out with a knowing smile, "If you want...we could...participate."
There was a time where he may have turned down such a proposal on the grounds that one or both of them simply weren't ready. That time has passed, water under the proverbial bridge, as it were. Right now, they sit together on her couch, each person well aware of the other's feelings. Right now, he knows there is no way he could refuse this request. Not when she asks in such an adorable way. Not when he's waited this long already. Especially not given all they've been through to make it to where they are right now -in this unimaginably precious moment.
A crooked grin takes the place of words in response to her request. Words really aren't necessary to give the woman the answer she wants. Certainly, she must have already seen the answer written plainly all through his expression. Collecting the plates and glasses, he moves those safely out of the way before carefully assisting her in turning her body so that her injured leg can rest on the coffee table in front of her. In this new position, now with her body slightly angled toward the man next to her, contact is much easier. Carefully, she moves in close, wrapping her arms around the musician in a tight embrace. Nestled close to the rapid rhythm of his heart, she feels his arms encircle her body in return. For the second time tonight, the woman nuzzles in against his chest, sending a shiver through Luka's body.
"I missed you, so much." Hearing the words mumbled into his chest and knowing that they are a reflection of his own thoughts makes his own embrace tighten around her small body.
"So did I." Though it really doesn't need to be said aloud, the words tumble out anyway, completely unbidden.
On TV the countdown of the final seconds of the year is now underway. Slowly, Marinette pushes herself back and out of the embrace, settling in such a way that her eyes can line up with his.
Ten.
Her fingers grip the fabric of his shirt as she bites her lip, a small rush of exhilaration consuming her as she realizes thoughts of kissing him are about to be reality.
Nine.
He reaches up, resting his hand over the fingers that clutch the fabric of his shirt and pulls them away, guiding her hand to his lips and gently placing a kiss against her knuckles. 'Please don't be so tense.'
Eight.
His eyes seem to communicate this thought well, because he sees her eyes drift to a close and she takes a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Seven.
When those bluebell eyes open once more, the nervous energy seems to have died down significantly, a smoky haze beginning to replace the wide-eyed anxiety that had given him pause just seconds ago.
Six.
This time around, it would appear both of them are finally ready for this. The next two seconds in the countdown pass as they lean in, noses brushing lightly together. Her eyes have fluttered to a close again, this time in preparation for a moment she need only feel. Right at about four seconds to go, Luka seems to have frozen. 'Ugh, come on man, move. You both want this.' Why now of all times, must he feel this pesky trepidation over her readiness? Sensing his hesitation, her eyes open once again. It only takes a fraction of a second to spot the hesitation in his eyes.
Three.
"You don't have to worry. This time, I know I'm doing something right."
Two.
This small bit of encouragement seems to be exactly the push that he needs.
One.
Just as the clock strikes twelve, their lips come together in a raw, emotional and long-awaited moment. Auld Lang Syne begins to play on the TV, lost on the two of them completely as they bask in each other's warmth. Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling his chest flush to hers as she draws his lower lip in between hers. The kiss itself is undergoing an early metamorphosis now that Marinette has made the first move, making the contact deeper, more sensual and further whipping Luka into a frenzy. Feeling the slight grazing of her teeth on his lip, a low hiss escapes him while he matches the passion she shares with him. His hands tangle into and run through locks of her soft hair before trailing down over her shoulders and sides, taking in and memorizing the curves of her body along the way. As his rogue hands finally come to rest just above her hips, he lets his fingers dig softly into the woman's skin through her shirt. When she hums her satisfaction into the kiss, raking her fingers through his hair and running her tongue along his lower lip, Luka growls. A sound from deep in his chest -born equally of desire and frustration as he wants so much more but must keep her injury in mind.
Gently, he eases himself back, gazing into her perplexed yet still smoky bluebell eyes, knowing that this shouldn't escalate farther than it has. He still burns with longing to touch her and when she pouts up at him, making it obvious she is also not ready for the moment to end quite yet, it breaks him. It is an act that obliterates the last remaining shreds resolve he thought he possessed. 'Fuck, I can't stop when you look at me like that.'
Pulling her body back in against his and into a full embrace, his hands travel the length of her back, one landing near her hip, ending in a light squeeze and the other gliding up to tangle in her hair. He can feel one of her hands travel up along his chest and hisses against her lips as the fingers of her other hand rake through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. Meanwhile, his lips connect with hers in a kiss which decidedly contains many more French aspects than their first one. Heady, hot and almost frantic, the two of them explore the multiple facets of this new experience, each enjoying the taste and feel of the other.
After several moments of this, they both regrettably must move apart for air, both minds still reeling from the rush of the experience. Flushed, panting and wearing matching bashful grins, their eyes meet and hold. Looking into one another's eyes is akin to looking into the vastness of the cosmos, just barely exploring a fraction of a percent of the depth, intriguing without comparison and incredibly beautiful. So beautiful one could lose themself in simply trying to count all the stars.
"Luka..." His name tumbles out of the woman's mouth, a sensuous and husky whimper that sends an involuntary shiver through his entire body. "Luka..." Though the second time around the tone of her voice is already starting to return to normal, it still sends a second tremor though him. Gazing at him through dusky bluebell eyes, her mind still swept up in a swell of emotion and thought, she tries to get her mouth to make the one she wants to convey verbally. But for some reason the words just won't come out.
He can see the desperation in her eyes and understands well what it is she wants to say. While they are words the young man is anxious to hear for the first time, it need not be forced when she is clearly completely overwhelmed. Reaching for the woman, he draws her back in, this time for an embrace meant to soothe and reassure. This man has always been so incredibly good at saying "Don't worry. It's going to be okay," without using any words at all. After a moment or two, she carefully draws both legs back onto the couch and settles into the comfort she's found while resting against his chest. It isn't long after this that the pair falls asleep in one another's arms, tucked under a plush throw blanket she's pulled from the back of her sofa.
When the next morning dawns, the newscaster speaks of more snow on the way and Luka is still slumbering peacefully on Marinette's couch. She woke when her leg became uncomfortable, and, unable to fall back asleep in a more upright position, she has taken a seat next to Luka on the couch with said leg propped up on the coffee table. A serene look plays on his face in his sleep and he somehow looks even more precious than usual. On it's own accord, one hand reaches out, fingers gently running through his highlighted hair. It's suddenly such a wonder -one of life's great curiosities- that feeling this way about Luka took so long to acknowledge and accept. Kissing him, falling asleep on his chest, waking up in his arms and even being here beside him now -it all feels so innately correct that it seems almost strange that she ever wanted someone else.
His brow furrows slightly and he sharply inhales, then exhales at length, consciousness returning to him a bit at a time. Noticing this, she carefully draws her hand back, setting it in her lap.
"Coffee?" He's right. She had prepared a pot last night, which is only just starting to brew as he wakes. Still, for this to be the first word to pass over his lips in his half-conscious state is just far enough out of left field that she has to laugh a little.
"Good morning to you too." Words spoken through a short fit of light and airy laughter.
The sound of her voice causes his features to brighten with a grin as he focuses on her for the first time since waking.
"That's something I could get used to waking up to in the morning," grin only broadening when this comment makes her laughter continue, he quickly concludes the thought, "Yeah, I'm used to it. Let's do this more often, huh?"
"Alright," leaning down, she places a soft kiss on his forehead, "it's a deal."
After a coffee and a stroopwafle for breakfast, they take turns getting cleaned up for the day. Luka takes his turn first and Marinette waits until second as she has more to prepare for when showering with a cast on. She doesn't linger too long, making quick work of cleaning up and getting dressed for the day. When she comes back into the main living area from the bathroom, supporting herself with a single crutch and running a brush through her hair with her free hand, she spots Luka leaning over the small island in her kitchenette, scribbling something onto the magnetic note pad that usually hangs on her fridge.
Eyebrow ached in curiosity, she takes a few steps in his direction before asking in an bemused tone, "What are you doing?"
His head raises, eyes lining up with hers, an impish smile playing on his lips. Holding up the pad he'd just been writing on so that she can see, he watches the sheepish look that crosses her features as she realizes that what he's written is a phone number. Somewhat taken aback, she glances between him and the note pad a few times before Luka takes the cue to elaborate.
"I wanted you to have my phone number. Hopefully, nothing else happens...but just to be safe. You know?" The man informs her, sticking the magnetic pad back onto her fridge and heading to sit back down in the living room. With a casual shrug of one shoulder, she follows him, intending to take take a seat on the couch next to him when she spots another piece of paper with the same number on it tucked under the decorative piece in the center of her coffee table. Eyes drifting to the end table, she spots a third one. At once, her eyes shift to the man on her couch who glances back at her, looking for all the world like the cat that swallowed the canary. "What?" The feigned innocence in his tone nearly does her in, but she keeps the laughter from her voice as she gazes down at him, expression deadpan.
"What are all these?" She surprises herself with how steady her voice comes out sounding.
"No harm in making sure some extra copies are handy, in case you need 'em." Unlike his companion, he can't keep his obvious amusement from his tone.
"Luka..." His name falls from her lips in a drawn-out sigh as she dramatically rolls her eyes.
"I just wanted to make extra sure that it would be easy to remember..." He tries, pouting as if he is a small child who believes he's done well and is disappointed at being corrected.
"Luka..." A second scolding, no less exasperated than the first.
"Okay...maybe it is a little overkill." Though conceding this point, it intentionally doesn't go far enough.
"A little?" One eyebrow raises into an accusatory arch.
"I mean...I'm not saying you're forgetful or anything...but, then again, I'm also not the one who couldn't memorize one number after months of texting a person..." His expression screams 'but that's none of my business,' quite clearly, though he doesn't say it out loud.
She carefully lowers herself into a seat next to him on the couch, bringing her leg up into a resting place on the coffee table at the same time before reaching out and giving him a gruff yet playful shove on the shoulder. "Cad!" She chides in jest, watching the grin on his face grow until he is laughing out loud.
"Oh yeah?" He leans into her, playfully but lightly bumping her shoulder in retaliation while remaining mindful of not moving her body too much.
"Yes! A scoundrel, without honor sir!" Another joke, this time through a laughter that is light like sleighbells. She simply can no longer maintain that stern façade she'd been putting on for her own amusement in the beginning.
"Well, at least I'm not a forgetful klutz." He sputters through a smattering of obviously faked coughing.
"Who was it that just said he wasn't calling me forgetful?" Another playful shove on the shoulder, and this time she scoots closer, leaning into him.
"Me...but I'm a cad, remember? A scoundrel, without honor. Who was it that said that?" He leans back into her gently, this time more affectionately than playfully.
"Not me," the bluenette fibs, putting on her best innocent act and looking up at him with stars dancing in her eyes, "I would never say such mean things about you."
It takes all he has inside not to grab the little trickster and pull her in for another kiss right now. Between her playful grin, the good humor warming her bluebell orbs and the innocent way she looks into his eyes, he's had just about all he can take. She has gotten so much better at flirting since their teenage years and it is having exactly the effect on him that is intended. At the same time, he can play this game just as easily. She isn't the only one here who can wear the guise of a shameless flirt like a well fitted article of clothing, after all.
"If that's true," he begins, deliberately dropping his pitch down an octave or two as he shows off his trademark roguish smirk before leaning in close to her ear, "why don't you tell me what you would say, instead?" Delighted at the fine hair noticeably raising into goosebumps along her neck in response to his intentionally gruff whisper, he moves back to find her face very flushed, now a fine rosy shade. Her eyes shine with intrigue and longing as she watches him for a moment.
Gathering herself together rather quickly, the woman has no trouble selecting an answer.
"I'd say that you're...fishing for compliments." The man's laughter alone is a reward of the highest value at present.
"Oof...guess I backed into that one." He manages in between small fits of laughter.
"I'd also say that I'm in big trouble..." Tone suddenly much more serious, his attention immediately turns back toward her and he studies her face carefully as she completes her thought, "...cause I love you like crazy." For a moment, it actually doesn't settle in. He blinks a couple of times, simply staring at her as if he doesn't recognize the language she's speaking. Noticing this, she attempts to rephrase, hoping that may help. "I...love you, Luka."
This time, the words absolutely sink in and even in spite of this, he feels the need to request a reiteration, just to make certian he heard correctly. "What was that?"
She knows he heard her and thinking that he's just being silly again, she raises one hand, motioning as if shooing away a fly before speaking.
"Oh, come on now. You heard me. Now you're just being greedy-" Cut off when the man next to her catches her arm mid-movement, his grip tightening down around her wrist, her eyes snap into alignment with his. His gaze is intense, focused on holding her line of sight as something very serious trembles within those alpine orbs -something pleading and desperate that tugs fiercely on her heartstrings.
"Just this once, let me be greedy, then..." desperate tone matching the look in his eyes, his hand slides down along her arm, ultimately wrapping around hers as both their linked hands fall down into her lap. "Say it just one more time...please, Marinette." She can't stifle her gasp while looking into those beautiful cerulean eyes, filled with more urgency than she has ever seen him express before. Breath stolen by the novelty of the moment, she knows there's nothing left to say but the truth.
"I-I...love you, Luka-" Just as the end of his name makes it's way out over her lips, he is kissing her. Pulling away, his unreservedly joyful smile warms her heart before he dives in a second time, kissing her again. These kisses, though fervent, are a bit different from the ones they shared last night. It seems less like an impassioned exploration and more like a means to communicate an ever-expanding assortment of feelings he can't put into words. She melts into the contact.
Head spinning from the dizzying experience, Luka shifts away from the woman, leaning back and onto the armrest of the couch with a contented sigh. Together in these last twelve hours, they have reforged and strengthened a bond more profound than any other of the romantic type he's ever had. Something he's been waiting what seems like an entire lifetime to feel. He needs a moment or two come come down from the high of the complete experience.
"Sorry," A realization hits him, "I never asked if it was okay to do that."
"Don't apologize! It was incredible. Anyway, you're not gonna need permission each time, you know." She is very aware of how highly he values consent, but she does not want him regretting sharing how he feels with her.
"Heh. Incredible, huh?" Picking himself up off the armrest, he moves back into the position he was just sitting in. Though still caught up in the emotion from the moment, this registers very clearly.
"Yeah, yeah...thank you very much," sidling up to him, the woman drops her head onto his shoulder, looping one arm around his, "well...we're snowed in. What do you want to do?"
"A date." He knows exactly how he wants to spend this day.
"A date? What do you mean? We can't even go anywhere." Though confused as to what he's trying to suggest, she doesn't lift her head from it's resting place.
"We don't need to. I already know you've got board games and Netflix. We can unwind, then do dinner and a movie right here." He shifts his body enough that she has to lift her head and look at him now. "What do you think?"
They were cheated out of their planned outing after that whole mess that began a month ago. A chance at a do-over on this whole dating thing, however small and unorganized it may be, sounds really nice. With misunderstandings cleared, a new relationship just now beginning to blossom in a brand new year, and all the waiting finally at an end, there's only one thing left to say.
"I think it sounds great. Can't wait."