hello hello, lunnelly friends! KBR's first misfits teaser had me in a complete tailspin, and then this was born. say hello to some pre-relationship lunnelly ft. a curious farrow.

there is a version of KBR's teaser in this, but i switched it up a bit. the og is "i've never really been friends with a girl. and she's the first girl that's just a friend to me, and it's been fucking me up, honestly." there really was no way for me to remain calm about this teaser lol

i hope y'all enjoy this, and thank you for reading! :)


.: in the entire world :.

"I want to know where to touch you, I want to know how to touch you. I want to know how to convince you to design a smile just for me. Yes, I do want to be your friend. I want to be your best friend in the entire world." — Tareheh Mafi, Unravel Me

Donnelly toed off his sneakers and kicked them on the pile of shoes always near the penthouse door. They looked ratty as hell next to the Famous One's new Nikes and Adidas, but that had never bothered him. He pushed the door shut with his socked foot before he grabbed a pair of truly ugly furry pink heels from the hardwood, added them to the pile, and headed down the hallway in search of Luna.

She'd asked him a week ago if he wanted to watch the new season of Stranger Things with her, and she'd been absolutely horrified when she found out he'd never seen a single episode. He was busy, sue him.

With a little smile, he remembered her shocked expression and how she'd immediately informed him he no longer had a choice. He didn't protest, of course, because he liked watching things with her. Liked when she piped in with her theories and weird comments while they were watching, talking right over the dialogue and making him miss things.

They'd started episode one that night—stretched out on their stomachs on her bed with her laptop open in front of them—and they were now halfway through season three. He thought the show was weird as hell, but he was loving every second of watching it.

Donnelly kicked a stray cat toy across the hardwood, and two of the little buggers darted out from nowhere and started batting it around. The penthouse's open concept let him know Luna wasn't in the living room, but Farrow was putzing around in the kitchen. Donnelly was a little earlier than he'd told Luna he'd be—Xander had been doing a lot better lately, and he was spending the afternoon with Ben at the Cobalt Estate—so Donnelly hadn't expected her to be waiting for him with the show already cued up.

He debated heading down the hallway to her room, but he pulled out one of the cushioned, tall-backed bar stools and sat down instead. "Heyo, Redford."

"Hey, man," Farrow greeted. He used a knife to slide a bunch of cut-up apples from a cutting board to a parrot-printed bowl before depositing the knife and cutting board into the sink. "What's up?"

Donnelly leaned across the counter and plucked a couple apple cubes from the bowl and ate them all at once.

"Those are for Ripley," Farrow said, but he pushed the bowl towards Donnelly anyway. "Don't eat too many of 'em."

Donnelly raised his hands in mock surrender and ate a few more cubes before sliding the bowl back across the counter.

"What's up?" Farrow asked again.

"Here to hang with Lu," Donnelly said, still chewing.

"Ah…" Farrow pulled open the fridge, and when he turned back to Donnelly, a jug of strawberry juice in his hand, his expression was carefully blank. Donnelly knew that look and what it really meant. He knew that tone, too—that particular ah that meant a million things all at once.

Donnelly leaned back in his chair and tapped an uneven rhythm onto the granite countertop. He sighed. "What?"

Farrow poured some juice into a little green sippy cup with a faded mountain on it. "What's going on between the two of you?"

Donnelly shook his head and shifted in his seat. "Farrow…"

"It's just"—Farrow gestured towards the hallway that housed Luna's bedroom before screwing the lid onto the sippy cup and popping his brows—"you're spending a lot of time with her lately."

All the attention, the questions, and the unasked questions had Donnelly feeling fidgety and weirdly nervous. He braced his forearms on the counter and stuttered, "We're—ah—well…" He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "She's my best friend."

Farrow stilled immediately, but the nervous energy buzzing under Donnelly's skin had him jostling his leg and reaching for one of the apples in the bowl on the counter. He picked at the apple's sticker and avoided Farrow's eyes as he felt his friend looking him over. When Donnelly eventually looked up at him, Farrow's expression was the most incredulous Donnelly had ever seen.

"I'm your best friend," Farrow said. Donnelly grinned, because Farrow admitting to that was akin to the guy declaring their relationship from the rooftops for all of Philly to hear.

Farrow was right, though; he totally was Donnelly's best friend and he always would be—him and Oscar both. But Luna was…Luna. He didn't know how to describe his…relationship with her any other way.

Donnelly took a bite of his apple to buy himself some time, and he shrugged again. When he got off duty, he wanted to hang out with Luna; when his phone rang, he wanted it to be Luna on the other line. If that didn't mean she was his best friend, he didn't know what she was.

He finished chewing all too soon, but before he absolutely had to reply, Luna slid into the kitchen on her socked feet, arms outstretched as though she were surfing. "Hey. Hi. Heidi. Ho. Howdy."

"Hey, Lu," Donnelly greeted.

"You're early." She pointed at him and grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. "I knew you missed me."

"Guilty," he teased back as Luna grabbed one of her gross fruit drinks from the fridge and gave Farrow a funny wave.

"You ready to watch?" she asked, rounding the counter and walking behind Donnelly, poking her finger into his shoulders in that annoying way he absolutely did not love. Not even a little. She leaned against the counter on his other side, blue glitter sparkling on her cheeks in the kitchen's warm light.

"Born ready, babe," he replied.

She grinned again and grabbed his hand that was holding the apple, pulling it towards her so she could take a bite of the Honeycrisp. "Let's hit it, then," she said, chewing. "See ya, Farrow."

Luna headed to the living room, still sliding across the floor like she was in that 80s movie he never remembered the name of, and Donnelly watched her go with a smile. Orion bounded up to her from his bed by the fireplace, and Luna did a couple of weird hops around her dog as the pup's nails scratched across the hardwood and he yipped a few times in excitement.

"Donnelly…" Farrow said, drawing his attention. He didn't particularly like or appreciate the warning look on Farrow's face, so he pushed to his feet and took another bite of his apple. "What are y—?"

"She's my best friend," Donnelly repeated, and the truth of that settled in his bones. Farrow grabbed his son's sippy cup and bowl of apples and walked up to Donnelly, but before Farrow opened his mouth, no doubt to spill objections or call Donnelly out for the lie he clearly thought this confession was, the words were spilling from Donnelly's mouth again. "She's my best friend."

.:..:.

Robin and Steve were bickering on screen in their funny sailor hats, but Donnelly wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy thinking about Luna and what he'd told Farrow.

Luna had tossed her feet in Donnelly's lap the moment he'd sat down on the sectional; he'd propped his own feet up on the coffee table and settled his hands on her ankles like this was all second nature.

He knew he was being weird, looking over at her every few seconds, and he also knew Luna had clocked his strange attitude. But the thing about Luna was she never pressured him into talking. It was like she knew, eventually, he'd find the words and the wherewithal to tell her on his own. So she just laid there, one of Sulli's cupcake pillows that must have migrated to the living room clutched to her chest. Her eyes were on the screen, but somehow he felt like her attention was on him.

They were definitely gonna have to rewatch this episode.

Donnelly averted his gaze from her and smoothed his hand around her ankle and up her calf. "Luna…" he began. She instantly paused the show, like she actually was just waiting for him to speak. He squeezed her knee. "We're friends, right?"

She huffed a small laugh and pressed her foot into his thigh, jostling him a little. "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," she teased.

He slouched into the couch and stayed quiet, remembering when he was on the other end of this conversation a few months ago. When she was the one asking, and he was the one reassuring. He'd teased her about asking, too, and he was only now realizing that maybe he shouldn't have—even though it'd had her smiling and poking him in the shoulder. Because he found he'd needed her to say yes immediately and assure him he wasn't reading too far into things and finally losing his mind.

He'd never really had a friend that was a girl before, especially a girl like her who teased him and called him out on his shit and never asked him to change. It was fucking with him.

He braced his other hand on her feet and snapped her sock against her ankle.

"Hey…" she said, voice low. She sat up, tossed the funny pillow to the other end of the couch, and scooched closer, leaning her knees against his chest as she sat sideways on the couch. "Yeah, we're friends. What's going on?"

He ran a hand down his face and tilted his head to look at her. Cheek resting against the cushion. "Earlier, I told Farrow you were my best friend. He asked me what was going on between us, and it wasn't until I actually said it that I realized it was true."

She hummed and rested her head next to his on the cushion. She was a little cross-eyed like this, and that had him smiling. Then she actually crossed her eyes, and he barked a laugh and shook his head. Definitely his best friend, and he was grateful for every weird part of her. He reached out and smudged some glitter from the apple of her cheek to her temple. "You're my best friend, Lu."

"You're my best friend, too," she said, smiling gently. She teased her foot into his thigh again, wriggling her toes till he batted her away with a laugh. Telling her he was ticklish was the worst ammunition he ever could've given her. She draped her legs back over his lap, thighs resting against his, and fiddled with the hem of her cropped sweater. She quietly added, "I've never had a real best friend before."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, furrowing his brows. "Tom and Eliot chopped liver?"

Her smile stretched, but it looked forced. "I love them, and I couldn't ask for better friends, but…they're my family. They're supposed to love me and be my friends. No matter how genuine our relationship is, it was manufactured before I was born. You're the only person who's actually chosen to be my friend."

It wasn't actually a choice, he thought. She'd whirled into his life with a grin and some no-nonsense, fiery questions, and he'd been in the deep end before he even decided to jump in the water.

Being Luna's friend was the easiest and best thing he'd ever done, but it was also a little strange sometimes. Because sometimes he'd look at her, and he'd remember what she looked like under him, with her brown hair fanned over the pillow and her hands fisting the sheets. He'd remember how she tasted, how she'd pulled on his hair when he pressed her into the mattress. The little sounds she'd made when he kissed her harder, deeper.

He shook himself and palmed her thigh, looking over at her. "I'm honored to be your first."

A pretty blush settled high on her glittery cheeks. She covered his hand with hers and lightly tapped her fingers against his wrist. "I'm glad."