.
..
...
a/n: some tidbits to fill in all that time maya and lucas spent together during girl meets rules
"Hey, Huckleberry!" She called from across the room. "Hurry up and get over here."
"In a minute," he said, hoping she wouldn't walk up to him and see him still struggling to open the tiny bottle of war paint. It's not that he wasn't strong enough, he was just opening it the wrong way.
"Ranger Rick?" She said impatiently after a short minute.
"What does it take for a guy to get some peace and quiet around here?" Lucas complained, with his back still turned to Maya, silently struggling.
Maya rolled her eyes.
He was about to give up on trying to twist the lid open (for he had completely missed the fact that there was a nozzle to squeeze the paint out.) when suddenly he applied excess pressure and a ton of black paint oozed all over his hands. He rapidly grabbed some tissue and started to wipe it up, only to find that the tissue stuck to his hand.
Unbeknownst to him, Maya had started walking toward him and was right behind him when she said "What's the hold up?"
He jumped with a start and involuntarily turned to face her, with the black paint and tissue all over his hands.
The look on Maya's face was priceless.
"What's the matter, the Mad Dog couldn't open a tiny bottle of paint?"
She looked him over once and started laughing.
"We don't have all day," she eventually said, and moved towards the art cabinet, where there was a bottle of acetone and a bottle of oil. She had to stand on her tippy toes to reach the cabinet, and the phrase "Short stack of pancakes" flew through Lucas' mind, and, unfortunately, out of his mouth as well.
Maya turned to glare at him, then cocked an eyebrow. "You're not really in a position to talk, Ranger Rick."
He smiled at her defeatedly as she grabbed the paint remover and the oil.
She walked back up to him, still standing there with his hands resembling somewhat of a black chicken, and held out the bottle of acetone and the bottle of boil.
"Here," she said.
Lucas stared at her, not understanding. "Well, what am I supposed to do with this?"
She scoffed. "Geez, cowboy, I thought you knew how to paint. Or was that all just an act to impress Riley?"
"Maybe I wasn't trying to impress Riley," he said so softly, she wasn't sure if she heard it correctly or not.
"Use the acetone to take-oh forget it, we're wasting time, I'll do it," she huffed irritably.
She pushed past him to get a handful of paper towels and soaked them with the acetone. She began to wipe the paint off his hands, causing the blood to pool in Lucas' face in embarrassment.
As she held his hands and was vigorously rubbing the paint off, he suddenly became aware of how close their faces were to each other. This only increased his blush and caused him to avert his eyes, choosing to stare at the floor.
There was a prolonged moment of silence until all the tissue paper had been removed and only a little bit of paint remained on the tip of his fingers.
"Well, there you go, Huckleberry, now you just need to use the oil for your sensitive precious cowboy skin," she said.
"Wait," he commanded. "Don't put the acetone away just yet."
"Why not?" Maya questioned irritably.
"Because I think you might need it," he said as he escaped from her gentle grasp and he smothered the left over paint on her face.
"Oooh," she shuddered, she closed her hand and began to walk away. Lucas thought he had won, for once, until she abruptly turned around and squirted him with paint.
Chaos ensued.
…
Maya grabbed Lucas by the front of his shirt.
"This ends, NOW," she demanded.
"Awh, what's the matter, is our little game not fun anymore?" Lucas teased.
"I'm sorry, this coming from the boy who couldn't even open a little bottle of paint."
She tilted her head, their lips mere inches away from each other.
"Some mad dog you are," she growled.
They stared each other down but neither wavered-although, admittedly, Lucas found himself staring at her lips-of course, Maya didn't notice because she was doing the same to him.
Suddenly, the door opened and Mr. Matthews burst in.
"Mr Friar, Ms Hart, my classroom, NOW." He commanded authoritatively.
…
They were back in the art room, the floors mopped and the desks scrubbed clean.
Now they just had to clean themselves up.
Maya was trying to wipe her face but she couldn't hold the mirror up, pour oil into the cotton swab, and scrub her face off at the same time. Not when the mirror kept slipping from her grasp because she not only had paint on her hands now but oil as well.
She spent 5 minutes of fruitless effort trying to wipe her face off, only to miss a spot, when Lucas finally said "Maya, just let me do it."
She glared at him for a few seconds then conceded, handing the oil over to him in resignation and setting the mirror down. He poured oil on the cotton swab and gently began to rub her face.
When her face was just about clean, he smirked at her and said "Who's the little baby with sensitive skin now?"
She clawed his chest, "I will break you," she said threateningly, but she couldn't help but notice the way his lips looked when he smirked at her like that and the way his eyes smoldered.
He finished her face, grabbed a paper towel, and gently wiped her face. He subconsciously moved closer toward her and said "If that's what makes you happy, ma'am," and saluted her with an imaginary hat, "then I certainly can't wait for it."
a/n: hope you all enjoyed! sorry for such a monumentally long wait. rest assured, i have NOT given up on this fic. also, check out prank wars, another lucaya fic written by yours truly. as always, send some love through the reviews and thanks for the continued support! :)
...
..
.