A quick cup of coffee turned into a 3-hour lunch, Marinette and Luka sitting together, catching up on the last several years of their lives. They'd nominally stayed in touch, and Marinette had followed all of the band's social media, occasionally meeting with Juleka and Rose, catching up on what was happening in their lives.
Luka had lived a quiet life, for a rockstar, staying out of the spotlight as much as possible, pouring all of his energy into writing and performing, chasing his dream while it was still within his grasp. He told a few stories about life on the road but swore that most of it was fairly monotonous; entirely too many hours confined to a bus, trapped with the same people day in and day out. When Marinette pointed out that he'd practiced this for years by living on the boat, he laughed and said the Liberty had more freedom.
He enjoyed performing, the emotions, the music, all of it swirling around him, passing the energy back and forth between the stage and the audience, but he missed slowing it down and really getting to connect with people. People other than those on the bus. He felt plenty connected to them.
Marinette laughed. It wasn't the shy laugh that she'd had as a teenager, but one that rang out, full of joy, infectious in its happiness. Luka's eyes drank her in. She'd been pretty half a lifetime ago when she'd stumbled into his life, words tumbling out, reminding him of his obligations while overwhelming him with her own music; but now, she was downright gorgeous. She exuded a quiet confidence that she would overcome anything life threw at her and appeared completely at home in her skin.
Her skin. He tried not to stare too much, but her skin was flawless, with just a dusting of freckles. She'd hidden the ones on her face, but he could see them on her shoulder, and his fingers itched to trace them. He chuckled to himself as he admitted that Juleka may not be the only Couffaine to be swayed by a pretty face, although, he and Marinette had been close, all those years ago, so maybe he could be forgiven in this case.
He'd missed what she'd been saying during his rumination, and she was looking at him, big blue eyes wide, waiting for his answer. Flushing slightly, Luka apologized and was treated to Marinette's laugh again as she repeated her question. Another hour passed as they fell into old patterns of conversation, laughing and joking. Luka's phone chimed, and in reaching for it he realized that he'd been stroking Marinette's knuckles with his thumb. "It's Juleka. She's wondering why we've been gone for over three hours."
Marinette yelped and grabbed for her own phone. "Oh Luka, I'm so sorry for keeping you so long. I know how busy you are, and I've been wasting your time!"
This time it was Marinette's turn to stare as Luka's full-bodied laugh rolled over her. He'd definitely grown up over the past decade. He was still tall and lean, but she could see the cording of muscles playing underneath his t-shirt. The dark wash jeans he wore had no holes, a nod to the meetings he'd been in all day, and his hi-tops had morphed into heavy black boots.
"I'm fine, and Juleka would have called hours ago if we were really needed. Come on ma mie, we should probably head back."
He extended a hand to her, pulling her out of her chair. "Do you want to join me for dinner tonight?"
She looked around nervously, anywhere but at him. "I can't tonight."
Luka started beating himself internally for jumping headlong into something, or someone in this case, but talking with Marinette, reconnecting with her had just seemed so natural. His breath caught in his throat when her voice softly inquired, "Could you do lunch tomorrow?"
Nodding, because he didn't trust his voice enough at that moment, he took a moment to double-check his schedule, before nodding again and clearing his throat. "Yeah. I'd love that. Give me your number, we can work out the details later." She gave him her number as they walked back to the studio, and he immediately texted her so that she would have his.
The next day, Luka was already waiting for her at the small cafe they'd agreed upon, and he stood as she approached the table. Both were dressed more casually, Marinette in an apple green sundress with black accents and black sandals, and Luka in ripped jeans and an old band t-shirt, but the boots remained the same.
The conversation was turned to the years they'd missed with each other, and Marinette admitted that she'd spent a year, immediately after the break with Adrien doing little but hiding out at her parents' bakery, laser-focused on improving an already impressive portfolio.
The next year hadn't been much better, but 5 months into that year, she'd been offered a job that involved a lot of travel, and she'd spent the next two years traveling around the world. She admitted to catching his shows in Milan, London, and New York, and even to having coffee with Juleka in the last city.
Luka wondered why his sister hadn't mentioned the meetup, but then he remembered what, or rather who, he'd been doing during their last visit to New York, and wisely remained silent. If Marinette noticed that a slight flush appeared on his cheeks, she didn't comment.
He talked about touring… what life was like on the road, and how it was easy to find inspiration in the beauty that surrounded them, but so hard to find the time to translate that beauty into music. He often struggled to stay grounded, to even remember which city he was, or what day it was and stayed grateful to Juleka for being there, and keeping him from some of his less well thought out ideas.
They talked and talked, and when Marinette noticed that they were getting looks from the waitstaff, she suggested going for a walk. It was a gorgeous day, and they wandered the streets, talking and swapping stories, fingers intertwined.
They spotted a man with a shock of silver hair setting up an ice cream cart, calling out cheerfully to couples as they passed. "Is that Andre?" Marinette asked, somewhat surprised. "I didn't know he was still around!"
Chuckling at her surprise, Luka grinned down at her. "He's almost 70 now, although for the longest time I thought he was magical and could live forever. I remember when I was a kid, I delivered pizza to him, to his actual house, that is. He told me it was his 56th birthday, and that was a dozen or more years ago, now."
"Would you like to go and get some ice cream with me, Luka?"
The corners of his mouth quirked up in answer, as he tugged on her hand pulling her in the direction of the sweethearts' ice cream cart. Andre smiled when he saw them, his usual exuberance hiding the fact that his movements were slower now. He smiled at them as he handed over a mint and cherry chocolate chip cone, the flavours clashing horribly, but the meaning behind them clear.
They sat together in the park, enjoying the late-spring sunshine as well as the cool creaminess of the desert. Luka caught himself a couple of times staring as Marinette's little pink tongue darted out to lick the ice cream off of her spoon.
When Marinette glanced over at Luka, she noticed he had a drop of ice cream in the little dip between his lower lip and chin. Feeling brave, she reached over and wiped it off with her thumb. His breath caught as he met her eyes, and her hand slid to cup his face. He kissed the pad of her thumb, and she gasped, softly, closing the distance between them to replace her thumb with her lips.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she lost herself in the moment, ice cream forgotten, until Luka pulled back with a reluctant sigh. "Before we go too far, we should probably talk."
Looking up at him, still a little dazed, she nodded. "Do you want to come over to my place? I'll make coffee, and I'm sure I've got something to substitute for that." She gestured at the ice cream that was melting everywhere. Laughing, he agreed, and they walked, hand in hand, the few blocks to her apartment, stealing kisses, every few steps.