CHAPTER 1

The Golden Garden: A Study of the….

*snore* A loud snort interrupted the scratching of Hershel Layton's pen on a piece of scrap paper.

Layton looked up from his rough draft, smiled absent mindedly at his apprentice snoozing in the arm chair across the room, and attempted to continue writing the paper that had eluded him for years now. Usually, Layton was much more prompt in publishing his findings, but what with all the mysteries he'd had to solve between that first fateful trip to Misthallery and the present, he'd barely had any time to return to that little town to study the Golden Garden further until recently.

*snore*

Sighing, Layton dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair, putting one arm behind his head. Not the most gentlemanly look in the world, he knew, but Luke was sleeping. There was no one conscious to be an example for at that moment.

*SNOOORE*

Layton chuckled to himself as he watched the young man sleeping. He had known Luke snored since he began staying with him as a child and would fall asleep during rides in the Laytonmobile, but the ferocity with which he snored never failed to amuse the Professor. His mind began to wander to the weeks previous, when he and Luke were in Misthallery, finally finishing up some excavations in the Garden. Luke was so enthusiastic about becoming an archaeologist, and Layton loved that about him. He smiled to himself as he remembered Luke's excitement when he ran over to the Professor to show him an ancient piece of pottery he'd found. It was almost child-like fervor, despite Luke now being a young man, and an official Gressenheller student studying under Layton.

The Professor's smile broadened as her remembered how hard Luke worked to dig up so many priceless artifacts, how he'd take off his hat to wipe his brow, how he'd sweat through his shirt in the hot sun almost everyday and would have to remove it, how his back and chest glistened…

Whoa… Layton jumped a bit, startled that his thoughts about his apprentice, his friend, had gotten so off course. Ashamed and puzzled by his own mind's workings, Layton couldn't pretend that this was the first time he'd had some inappropriate thoughts about the lad. During Luke's childhood, his feelings for the boy were completely innocent, and almost paternal. He'd wanted to protect Luke, and provide him with the closeness he knew Luke and his father, Clark, never really shared. But as Luke matured, so, it would seem, did the Professor's feelings for him.

The first time Layton could remember thinking Luke was attractive was about a year ago, right after the boy's 17th birthday. Even then, Layton's thoughts were not totally inappropriate. Hershel Layton was a gentleman, and as such, he had an appreciation for beautiful things. He merely took note that Luke had developed quite handsomely. His facial features had become more defined, and he was really quite striking. He'd gotten taller, just a hair shorter than Layton himself when he wasn't wearing his famous hat, and his body had gone from slightly plump, to lanky and gangly, to nicely toned.

Feeling somewhat confused by his observation, but not disturbed, Layton had pushed the thought to the back of his mind, and his relationship with Luke had remained normal and friendly for the next several months. Layton hadn't questioned his feelings at all since then…that is, until he and Luke got to Misthallery.

Their excursion was supposed to include Flora, as she was beyond excited at the prospect of getting to see the Golden Garden. Unfortunately, her studies at Gressenheller, and her job at the University's library prevented her from being able to go. Layton had promised to take her back next year, once she had gotten her degree. So it was just he and Luke, as it had been so many times before. There should have been nothing different or special about this trip…but there was.

They had set to work in the Garden on their second day in Misthallery. As always, Luke was very excitable, eliciting chuckles from Layton as he scampered through the Garden, asking about a million questions a minute. Layton set him up with a shovel and brush, and stood back to watch him work. This was the first time the Professor found his eyes wandering over Luke's body not so much in proud, fatherly admiration, but with a hint of desire. Layton shook himself from his reverie, and knelt down to join his student in their hunt for ancient treasures. He was glad there was something other than his young friend that he could focus on.

From that day on, Layton noticed that he had to keep his thoughts about Luke in check. He couldn't understand what had brought on this barrage of mental naughtiness. Perhaps it was something in the air in the Garden. But being the logical man that he was, Layton knew that probably wasn't the case. He just refused to admit that he had developed a crush on his apprentice. He couldn't have a crush on a 17 year old boy. That was just wrong on so many levels. And yet, there it was.

*O*

Luke had celebrated his 18th birthday in Misthallery. Layton, always prone to spoiling the boy, took him to dinner at the village's fanciest restaurant. He had made a special request of the chef that a chocolate cake (Luke's favorite) be brought out at the end of the meal. Though Layton managed to keep it together throughout the main course, he was a bit tipsy from the glass of wine he'd drunk by the time the cake arrived. Luke had laughed as the Professor stood up, announced to the other patrons that it was his friend's birthday, and sang a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday". Before sitting down, Layton leaned down, put his arm around Luke's shoulder, whispered, "A very happy birthday to you, my dear boy," and kissed Luke on the cheek. Luke looked taken aback for a moment, then smiled a wide, giddy, almost mischievous smile. He grabbed Layton's hand, looked him dead in the eye, and said quietly and earnestly, "Thank you, Professor."

*O*

That night in their shared hotel room, Layton couldn't sleep. He was embarrassed by how he'd acted in the restaurant, and couldn't stop replaying the scene in his mind. He had been tipsy, but he was nowhere near drunk enough to kiss Luke, even on the cheek, and have it be ok. Would it have been ok if he were more plastered? No, of course not. But the way Luke smiled after the kiss…the way he'd held his hand and looked into his eyes…it was almost painful for Layton to remember. He was filled with so much desire, and so many competing thoughts and emotions. His own feelings were the one puzzle to which Layton could never quite figure out the answer.

Layton sighed, and his sigh was met with a soft, "mmm" from the next bed. He peeked over to his left, and his gaze was met by a bleary-eyed Luke.

"Something wrong, Professor?"

"No, no, nothing at all, my dear boy. Did I wake you?"

"No. Just a bit of indigestion I think. That dinner was delicious, but awfully rich, and I ate way too much. You spoil me, Professor." Luke absent mindedly rubbed at his belly. It was clear from the look on his face that he was in a bit of discomfort, but he didn't look extremely ill.

"Think nothing of it, Luke. And I apologize if it made you sick."

"I'll be fine." There was a pause. Normally, the two could sit in comfortable silence, but this lull in the conversation was pregnant with awkwardness. "Uh, Professor," Luke said, looking timid, "would you, uh, rub my stomach? You know, like you used to when I was little and didn't feel well?"

Against his better judgement, Layton sat up, pulled the covers away, and patted the bed. A shirtless Luke scampered quickly from one bed to the other, and lay next to Layton. Both men knew this sleeping configuration probably wasn't the most appropriate, but Luke seemed to have some kind need, and damned if Layton wasn't going to do whatever he could to make sure Luke got what he needed. He always had, and if he had his way, he always would.

Layton lay down next to Luke, and propped himself up on his elbow. He placed his hand on Luke's stomach and began rubbing in soft circles. Luke pulled the blanket up over them both, and nestled into the pillow. Layton was growing evermore uncomfortable, but he wanted Luke to feel better. After a few minutes, the boy looked up at the Professor, and Layton could see that same glint of mischievousness in his eyes that was evident in his smile at dinner. Luke placed his hand on top of the Professor's and said, "Thank you, I feel much better now."

"Happy I could help." Layton smiled back at Luke. The younger man started to move, and Layton thought, with some relief and some sadness, that he was heading back to his own bed. But to his surprise, Luke merely rolled over on his left side, facing away from Layton. The Professor watched as Luke's breathing became rhythmic, and figured the boy had fallen asleep. He waited for the loud snoring to start, but instead what he heard was an almost imperceptible, "I love you."