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mintaka14 · 1 year

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Alright, grab your favourite beverage and settle in for Chapter 7 of Living Arrangements, my ML And They Were Roommates! Lukanette AU. I hope you enjoy!

Living Arrangements

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter 7 – Everybody Talks

I found out that everybody talks Everybody talks, everybody talks

Too much

[Everybody Talks: Neon Trees]

They were somewhere around the halfway mark in the movie when Marinette’s phone hummed with an incoming text. She almost missed it as Luka chuckled at something happening on the screen, and his shoulder shifted under her cheek before he leaned back so she could settle against him more comfortably again. He turned his head to check on her with a half-smile, and reached for another handful of popcorn.

Her phone buzzed with another message, and another one in rapid succession.

Juleka flicked a look in her direction. “Want to get that?”

“Not really,” Marinette grumbled, but she dug the phone out of her pocket, and then frowned as she read the latest in a string of messages from Alya. “What on earth is cord reg?”

Juleka leaned across to look as another text pinged. “Cork red? Oh, code red.”

Marinette sat up quickly, disentangling herself from Luka.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’ve got to go get Alya,” she tossed back over her shoulder as she almost ran to put her shoes on.

She and Alya had always joked about the code red, and come up with increasingly unlikely scenarios where they worked out elaborate ways they would alert each other if they were in trouble. Staring down at the words now, Marinette felt pure fear and panic shoot through her, and the fact that Alya clearly wasn’t able to even type the text properly wasn’t helping. It would take more alcohol than Alya usually indulged in to impair Alya’s mastery of her keypad.

She hadn’t told Marinette about any plans to go out that night, and Marinette knew that Nino didn’t have a gig, so what had happened?

Marinette turned to look around her anxiously, with the feeling that she was forgetting something, and didn’t realise that Luka had come up beside her until he handed her the coat she’d left hanging over the back of a chair, and her handbag.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

She shook her head, giving him a quick, distracted smile, and grabbed her house keys from the bowl. It wasn’t easy to decipher the scrambled address that Alya was sending her, but Marinette managed to work out which club she was at, and found a taxi. When she finally reached the address, the tiny club didn’t look anything like Alya’s usual choice for a night out, and Marinette was getting more worried by the minute. The décor was pretentious and dimly lit, with the lights over the bar casting red shadows over everything. It was hard to make out faces, and Marinette heard Alya before she saw her.

She wove her way through the handful of tables and around the dancefloor towards the bar, where Alya was leaning too heavily against the countertop to be sober, and there were a whole lot of empty glasses beside her. Alya staggered slightly as she slid off her stool and flung her arms around Marinette. Then she pushed away to hold Marinette at an unsteady arms’ length.

“I knew it!” she announced loudly. “I just knew it! You didn’t even make it to dessert with Hendrien… Hadrien… Henny,” Alya gave up trying to remember the name of the guy she’d set Marinette up with, and fixed her with an accusing stare instead.

“I had a headache,” Marinette said defensively. She gave her friend a quick once over, but Alya didn’t seem to be hurt or in any sort of distress. Nothing to warrant a code red, at any rate. “How much have you had to drink?” she asked.

“Not much. … Three?”

Marinette eyed the glasses on the counter and had to question her maths. There were the remains of several fruity looking cocktails, and a collection of tiny umbrellas and tacky plastic picks, but judging from the way Alya was leaning on her, Marinette had to guess that they were a little stronger than they looked.

“Let’s go home,” she sighed, but Alya was shaking her head.

“Can’t go yet.” Alya dropped heavily onto her stool, and tugged Marinette towards the seat beside her, but Marinette resisted, glancing at the jacket draped over the back of the tall chair.

“Someone else is sitting there, Alya.”

“ ‘S fine,” Alya assured her. “She won’t mind.”

“You’re here with someone?” Marinette glanced around but couldn’t see anyone she recognised. Perhaps they were in the bathroom at the back of the club. “Then why did you send me a code red?”

Alya pulled her in close, and hissed, “Behind me. The guy at the other end of the bar. You’re welcome.”

Marinette leaned sideways a little to see past her friend. In the dim light, she could make out a guy with a dirty blond coiffure and a smirk of misplaced confidence that looked vaguely familiar, until it clicked where she recognised him from.

“Xavier Roth? XY?,” she hissed back. “You dragged me down here for him?”

This was what she’d dragged herself away from Men In Tights, and Luka, for? The anxiety that had built up on the trip to the bar was transmuting into something more like anger now.

“No no no,” Alya was patting her arm, “but see, it’s perfect. You like musicians now, and he’s a musician. All you have to do is go on over there and –“

“He is not a musician, and I think you’ve had way too much to drink,” Marinette said tightly. “I was in the middle of something, and I’m going home. And so should you.”

Alya grabbed her arm as she straightened. “Aw, don’t be such a killjoy, Mari. So XY isn’t such a good idea, and Hendrien didn’t work out, but there are lots of guys here.”

“I’m going home.”

“To Lu-u-ka?” Alya drawled. “Girl, just because a hot guy with a guitar makes bedroom eyes at you doesn’t mean –“

“He does not make bedroom eyes at me,” Marinette cut her off, and Alya scoffed.

“Are you kidding? Did you miss the way he was looking at you? Because I didn’t. He wants to get into your pants, but don’t you let him! You heard him – all that stuff the other night about groupies and fans throwing themselves at the band. You don’t want to be one of them.”

“And you think XY would be any better?” Marinette said, her mind still taken up with the idea of Luka and bedroom eyes. He’d never said anything, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t had plenty of chances. She’d offered to love him forever for a cup of coffee, for goodness’ sake. Something fizzed in her veins at the thought that maybe he’d been just a little bit serious when he’d teased her about wishing he’d known it was that easy.

“Okay, so not XY, but I’m telling you, Luke Stone is a bad idea,” Alya said firmly, in spite of the way she was slurring. She pushed aside one of the cocktail glasses so she could lean in close. “I know for a fact that he has a juvie record. I’ve actually seen the copy of the report, seeing you’re so big on proof. He attacked a studio producer.”

“He was fourteen, and he didn’t actually land a punch, but Bob Roth would have had it coming if he had. Is that all you’ve got?” Marinette said dismissively, starting to get to her feet. “Look, let’s get you home.”

Alya, cheated of the shock that she was clearly expecting, caught at Marinette’s wrist until she sat down again. In a stage whisper that could still be heard over the noise of the club, Alya started telling her all the rumours she’d gleaned about Luke Stone, scandals and affairs and orgies in every city. And none of them sounded at all like Luka. Marinette just couldn’t reconcile any of Alya’s lurid tales with the man she shared coffee and late night conversations with, or the housemate who had been so very careful of her since they’d moved in together. And if he’d been having wild affairs, he certainly hadn’t brought any of them home in all that time.

Whatever had gone on while he was on tour, it definitely wasn’t happening now. Between study and the fact that he’d been on their couch with movies or his guitar every night, with no company in sight except her, she couldn’t see how he’d have time for even half the stuff that Alya was telling her about. In the middle of one particularly salacious account that sounded like something straight out of the worst sort of smutty tabloids, Marinette couldn’t help the tiny snort of laughter that escaped.

Alya gave her a pitying look. “Mari, I’m serious. I know he’s hot, but we both think you can do so much better.”

“We?” Marinette asked warily. “Who’s we? Who have you been talking about this with?”

At the question, Alya’s expression turned shifty. Her eyes flicked past Marinette to something behind her. Marinette turned, and saw Lila weaving a path through the crowded club towards them, sliding between the tables and around the edge of the dancefloor. Of course.

“Never mind, I think I’ve worked out where you’ve been getting all this crap from,” Marinette said sourly. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”

She got to her feet, and Alya didn’t stop her this time.

“Oh, Marinette! What a surprise!” Lila said brightly as she drew closer. “You’re not leaving, are you? Stay and have a drink with us. My treat.”

“No, thanks,” Marinette said shortly. There was no way in hell she would ever drink anything Lila handed her, or risk letting alcohol make her vulnerable in her company. God only knew what Alya had already told her.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Lila asked, and it would have sounded like genuine concern if she hadn’t overdone it just a touch. “You’re not looking well. Do you need some help getting home? You can share a taxi with us if you like.”

“We’re leaving?” Alya said in disappointed confusion. “But I just ordered another drink.”

“Where do you live, Mari? It can’t be that far out of our way, and we just want to make sure you’re okay,” Lila insisted, and put a hand on Marinette’s arm. Too furious and upset with both of them to be polite, Marinette twitched her arm free of Lila’s touch.

“I’m not going to bite,” Lila laughed, but there was an edge in her voice. When Marinette didn’t respond, Lila gave a little shrug, and slid into the seat that Marinette had just vacated beside Alya. She said something to Alya that had her laughing into the cocktail the bartender had just handed her. Marinette turned away and walked, stiff-legged, out of the club.

As angry as she was, she stayed outside the club until her phone buzzed with Nino’s response to her text. Marinette didn’t trust Lila to actually make sure that Alya got home safely, and although the code red had been a false alarm when Alya sent it, Marinette had a feeling that it wouldn’t be if she left Alya to her own devices. The moment she saw Nino’s van pull up, though, Marinette gave him a short wave and left before she had to talk to him. She just wanted to go home.

~~~~~

Luka was getting a little concerned about Marinette. She’d been out of sorts since she’d got back from wherever she’d gone in response to Alya’s texts, but when he’d asked her if everything was okay she threw off his question with an unconvincing laugh and changed the subject. He went along with it.

The movie was long over, but Marinette hadn’t made any move to go to bed, even when Juleka had wandered away. She’d grabbed her sketchbook, but hadn’t made more than a desultory attempt at drawing anything, and hadn’t been doing anything more than frown at it for a while now.

He’d taken up his guitar automatically, with only half his mind on whatever scraps of music his fingers chose to play. The other half was focused on Marinette and whatever was troubling her. Luka stilled his guitar.

“I’m here if you want to talk,” he told her, and when she looked up at him with a startled expression, he gave her a soft smile and added, “Or I can keep playing and say nothing, if that’s what you need right now.”

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to ignore you,” she said, and he shook his head at that. That was the last thing he was worried about. She turned her eyes to her sketchbook again, and went on, “I’ve just had a bit on my mind. Alya’s code red was completely a false alarm, which was annoying enough, but she was there with someone I knew from Françoise Dupont.”

“It sounds like it bothered you,” he said as casually as he could manage, and Marinette scrunched up her face in response.

“I swear, it feels like she’s following me,” Marinette grumbled. “Everywhere I go these days, there’s Lila.”

“Who’s Lila?” Luka asked. “One of your admirers?”

“Hardly. She got me expelled, back in collège.”

Luka straightened, feeling a hint of a growl creeping into his voice as he said, “She what?”

His tone seemed to startle Marinette. She shot him a look through her dark lashes, and the way she bit on her lip was very distracting. “Lila and I have… history,” she said eventually. “She used to make up all these outrageous stories about the famous people she knew, and the things she’d done, and she hated me because I called her out on them. And she was really good at getting everyone on her side.”

Marinette’s eyes dropped, and she started picking at the edge of her sketchbook.

“She managed to get me expelled over some stuff, and no one ever really believed that she was the one who framed me in the first place, even when she admitted that she’d lied about some of it.” She snorted. “She spun this whole sob story about having a condition that makes her lie, and everyone bought it.”

“… what?”

Luka was past incredulous.

“They let me come back to school in the end, but… “ Marinette trailed off and gave a tiny shrug, her shoulders hunched with the memory. “Alya was one of the ones who believed her. She never really thought that I’d done those things, but she was convinced that there’d been some mistake and I was prejudiced against Lila. Alya and I made it up in the end, but she kept trying to get me to be friends with Lila. She only really stopped when Lila’s family moved away.”

Luka let out a slow breath so that he wouldn’t say any of the things that he was thinking. He didn’t think that Marinette would appreciate his views on her best friend.

“And now Lila’s back in Paris, and she keeps turning up everywhere, being friendly,” Marinette said, grimacing at her sketchbook.

“And you don’t trust her.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t know what she’s up to, but I think… no, I’m certain that she’s been getting in Alya’s ear with all sorts of stories about –“ she broke off, biting her lip again.

“About?” Luka prompted gently, and Marinette finally raised her eyes to look at him with a half-guilty apology.

“About you.”

“Why on earth would she be telling Alya anything about me? I’ve never even met this girl, as far as I know.”

Marinette muttered darkly, “She doesn’t need to know someone to make claims about them. Telling Alya that she knows all the inside gossip on Luke Stone is nothing compared to some of the stuff she used to spin in collège. She used to tell everyone that she’d saved Jagged’s kitten and he relied on her for everything.”

“She what?!” Luka leaned back into the couch cushions, a little stunned. “And Alya believes her?”

“Lila can be very convincing, apparently,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “and Alya’s always been willing to buy whatever she’s selling. Lila’s got her convinced you’re a real Don Juan.”

“Are you sure this girl’s not … I don’t know, dosing the water or something?” He sighed, and put his guitar aside. “Well, that explains why Alya suddenly hates me and wants to keep me away from you before I ravage you on the kitchen counter.”

“Luka!” she protested, her face flaming red, but he was relieved to hear her giggle. She snatched up a cushion and hid her face in it, and he almost missed her mumbling, “The shower, actually.”

Luka choked, and the blood fled from his brain in a sudden, heated rush. Was she trying to kill him?

“As if you would,” Marinette muttered deeper into the cushion, and if she sounded a little wistful, Luka was too busy trying to pull his scattered thoughts out of the gutter to notice. He appreciated her faith in his sense of chivalry, but it could only go so far - he absolutely would, if he ever thought for a second that she wanted him.

“Which just proves that neither of them know what they’re talking about.” Marinette’s cheeks were still bright pink as she lowered the cushion, but there was an indignant spark in her eyes now, and he forcibly brought his attention back to what she was saying as she went on, “I wish I knew what Lila’s game was. If I’m reading it right, she’s been angling for a chance to get close to Luke Stone. Thank heavens, at least Alya hasn’t spilled the beans and told her where we live yet, otherwise she’d be camped out on our doorstep by now. But…” she said slowly, “I don’t get why she’s so keen to badmouth you to Alya.”

Luka watched the play of expressions chasing themselves across Marinette’s face. For the time being, he set aside his own feelings about whatever this Lila had been saying about him. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before.

“And Lila’s got her hands on enough real information to know about your arrest,” she said, but Luka shrugged that off.

“If she knows enough to put Luke Stone and Luka Couffaine together, it wouldn’t be too hard to find out. Our publicist didn’t think it’d play well, so she made sure nothing ever came up in interviews or press releases, and Roth wasn’t happy about the thought of some punk kid showing him up, but –“ Luka grinned a little at the memory, “it was on national tv. The cameras were rolling right until the cops turned up. It’s not like it was a secret.”

“She can still do damage to you if she tells anyone who you are.”

Luka shrugged again. “Someone’s going to make the connection sooner or later. And getting arrested for sticking it to the Man isn’t exactly likely to damage my reputation as a rock artist. It didn’t stop Roth from signing me to the label when he thought he could screw a few favours out of Jagged,” he added cynically.

Marinette’s face had screwed up as if she’d just tasted something nasty. “Speaking of Bob Roth, it turns out that the whole code red thing was because Alya spotted XY at the club, and wanted me to hook up with him.”

“Xavier Roth is back in town,” he said flatly, and Marinette was nodding. “That–“ thieving hack almost came out of his mouth, but he bit back the uncharitable words before he could say them. “And Alya thinks he’s better than whatever she’s been hearing about me. Maybe I should be worried about whatever this girl has been telling her.”

Luka couldn’t help the dark anger that welled up at the thought of the Roths anywhere near Marinette, and whatever he was thinking must have been reflected in his expression, because Marinette was watching him with wide, anxious eyes. Her hand crept over to touch his, and he softened the grim line of his mouth.

With one slow, deliberate breath in and out, he released his anger and let his sense of humour take over. As lightly as he could manage, he said, “I’m curious now. What shocking things have I apparently been doing?”

He was relieved when she responded, and the anxiety faded out of her eyes. Marinette shot him a glance, a smile teasing the corner of her lips. “You let a crocodile loose in the foyer of the Grand Hilton.”

“True, but in my defence, Fang wasn’t meant to get loose. I was supposed to be taking him down for a photo shoot, but someone had their pet poodle with them, and he ran for it.”

“Fang went for a dog?”

“Ran from it. You’ve met him - Fang’s the most overpampered baby I’ve ever seen, but he can get up a fair turn of speed when he wants to. I never let Jagged talk me into minding him again after that one.”

He eyed her as she started laughing, and couldn’t help grinning at her.

“Sure, you laugh now, but it was chaos at the time.”

“What about that whole thing with the smashed window in New Delhi?”

Luka sighed. “I swear, that whole tv out the window thing wasn’t me. Penny kicked Jagged out of their room because he was getting too worked up about some football game at one in the morning, so he came and camped out in my room. And then his team lost.”

Marinette gave a tiny giggle, and a sidelong look. “I heard that you were rescued by Ladybug in the middle of a performance, and that you spent three weeks shacked up with her in a love nest somewhere in Australia.”

“I wish,” he grinned, and gave a dramatic, infatuated sigh. “I don’t think there’s anyone in Paris who hasn’t had that fantasy at one time or another.”

For some reason, his joke seemed to bring a hot blush to Marinette’s face. Before he could apologise, though, she asked quickly, “Have you even met Ladybug? How on earth did that one get started? They don’t even have akumas in Sydney.”

“I’ve never met her, but then I’ve never met half of the women I’ve been linked with.”

“Like Claire?”

At that, Luka dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

“My guitar,” he muttered. “Claire is my guitar, and my idiot father was going to smash her for some stage stunt he got into his head one night. Next thing I know, everyone thinks that we’re fighting over some groupie.”

Marinette laughed at that. Her lips parted to say something, but then she fell silent and her laugh faded. Her mouth closed in a firm line on whatever she’d been about to say. Marinette’s gaze dropped to the blanket draped over the back of the couch, and her fingers started idly tugging at the fringe.

As the silence stretched on, Luka said gently, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Marinette responded perfunctorily. “As if you’d leave someone to deal with that alone, no matter what had happened between you.”

“Deal with…?” Luka started, confused, and then he put together the pieces. “Let me guess. The rumour about me and Emma Wright?”

“That one’s stupider than all of Lila’s stories put together.” She glanced up at him with that hint of fierce blue fire in her eyes, and moved closer to him on the couch.

“That one didn’t start with Lila, although I would imagine she’s embellished it a bit,” he said. “Emma and I met when I was in the London studios with Jagged a few years ago. She was there promoting her latest movie, and we ended up at a lot of the same events. We were together for about three months, but we both knew it wasn’t going to last once I was back on tour and she started filming her next project. There was no drama, and there definitely wasn’t any secret pregnancy, although I did see a lot of online speculation about that rumour, and the gossip rags had a field day with it. Emma thought it was hilarious.” Luka’s mouth twisted a little at the memory. It hadn’t been quite so funny to him. “We still catch up for a coffee whenever we happen to be in the same city, but I can guarantee you that she hasn’t wasted a thought on me in the four years since we were dating.”

Luka shifted restlessly, and stood up. He strode into the kitchen, suddenly needing to move. He could feel Marinette’s eyes on him, but she didn’t say anything until he came back with two bottles of water in his hands, and passed her one of them. He downed the other one in several quick swallows, and then dropped back into the couch with a sigh.

He gave Marinette a wry little smile. “It’s not a big deal, I just… I didn’t even know who my dad was until I was fourteen. My guitar is my only family makes for great lyrics, but lousy parenting,” he said, and his smile twisted a bit. Marinette moved nearer until he could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against his arm, and her hand curled protectively around his bicep as she cuddled closer. “It isn’t like Jagged hasn’t been trying to make up for it, in his own way, but that’s one way I never want to be like him.”

“No one who knows you would believe that rumour for a second,” Marinette said firmly.

He shrugged. “As long as you believe me, Alya can think what she likes.”

“Not if it’s what Lila’s telling her to think, she can’t, not this time,” she said, and added ominously, “Leave Alya to me.”

Luka shook his head, touched by her fierce defence, even as his knees went a little weak at the steel that rang in her voice. “I don’t like the thought of you and Alya falling out over this,” he said. “It’s not worth it. There’ve been rumours and gossip about me for years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the fastest way to confirm a rumour is to try and deny it, even if there’s proof it never happened.”

“You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to anyone, let alone because of Lila,” Marinette growled.

“People talk,” he sighed. “I prefer to pick my battles, and this isn’t one I’m prepared to fight.”

Marinette didn’t say anything to that, but there was another flash of blue fire in her eyes that said she didn’t agree.

“And, as you said, no one who really knows me believes that rumour.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It’s not like Penny would have let me get away with anything, anyway. I was fifteen and stupid when I left with Jagged, but Penny kept a pretty close eye on me. She’s the reason that I kept up distance schooling and actually passed my baccalaureate. That doesn’t mean I didn’t do a few dumb things, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and it didn’t involve all the broken hearts that I’m supposed to have left behind.” Luka made a grimace of distaste at the thought, and when he saw her look up at him in concern, he gave her half a smile.

“I’ve had a couple of relationships, like Emma,” he told her, “but never fans and never one night stands. I’m… I guess I’m just not built that way. I always feel that it needs to mean something, and it’s hard for it to mean something when you’re always on the road and living that kind of life.”

“I know what you mean,” she said softly. “Not that I’ve been on the road like you, not yet, but… I’ve had a couple of boyfriends, and they never last when they find out how much work it takes to get anywhere in the fashion industry, or that I mean it when I say I’m not going to have much time to spare for them sometimes. Maybe that just makes me selfish, though, that I keep putting my dreams ahead of my… my lovers.”

Selfish would have been just about the last word Luka could ever come up with to describe Marinette, but the way she hunched her shoulders and curled in on herself when she said it made him suspect that someone had used it on her at some point. He looked down at the dark head bent beside him.

“It makes you creative and brilliant and passionate about what you do,” he said with an intensity in his voice that arrested her. “Would you want to love someone who would ask you to be less?”

“Do you think it’s even possible?” she asked. “To follow those dreams, and have enough left over for that kind of a relationship?”

“I don’t know, but the right person would be worth trying for.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his, her lips parting.

In the street below the apartment, a motorbike revved to life and roared away, and the sound jarred Luka back to a realisation of just how close they were. Before he could do something stupid, like kiss her, he shifted back on the couch.

“It’s past two,” he said softly, reluctantly. “We should probably head for bed if we’re going to get any sleep tonight.” Then he asked, without thinking, “Did you want a shower?”

Marinette blinked up at him, her cheeks dusting with pink, and Luka hurried to salvage things before she could panic.

“You can have the bathroom first. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

“Oh. Oh,” she said as the pink in her cheeks flamed into scarlet. “You meant… of course you did, because you wouldn’t… It’s fine, I’m clean,” she babbled as she scrambled to her feet. “The bathroom’s all yours.”

She was halfway to her bedroom when she spun around and gave him an adorable smile, even as her face still burned red. “Thank you,” she said shyly.

“For what?” he managed to get out.

“For trusting me. Sleep well, Luka.” Her smile grew brighter, then she vanished into her bedroom, leaving Luka to whine softly into his hands.

~~~~~~

Marinette made the obligatory phone call when she woke up, before she left for classes, to make sure that Alya had got home alright, but she wasn’t surprised when Nino answered, and told her that Alya was still sleeping it off. Her classes were almost finished for the day by the time Alya finally texted her back and promised to drop around later that afternoon.

Marinette sent back a curt text telling her not to, but she knew Alya, and so she wasn’t entirely shocked when her phone buzzed just as she was settling down in her room with her sewing machine to get some work done. She was rather annoyed, however.

She’d been looking forward to a peaceful afternoon catching up on some pieces she needed to finish putting together, and Luka had joined her when she’d asked him if he wanted to keep her company while they both worked. He was sprawled on her bed, his notes scattered around him, and he looked up when she huffed in exasperation.

“Everything okay?”

“Alya’s on her way over.” Marinette started to put away the pins and reel up the cotton she’d just gotten out. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d been annoyed too, after everything that Alya had said about him, but if he was, he didn’t voice it. He simply gathered up his papers and stuffed them back into the bag he’d left leaning against her bed.

He stood up. “I should really get a bit of work done at the library this afternoon anyway,” he offered, and stretched his arms over his head in a way that distracted Marinette for a moment. “And Jules won’t be back until tomorrow. You’ll have the apartment to yourself for a few hours.”

“You don’t have to leave because of Alya,” she protested. “We’ll go down to a café.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said with one of his slow, sweet smiles. “I have to head into the Con library anyway. I’ve just been putting it off. Did you want me to pick up anything on the way home?”

“Could you get some more things for a salad? I have some beef in the fridge, and I can make carbonnade for dinner, if you’re happy with that,” she suggested, offering him his favourite. “And Papa sent round some fresh bread this morning.”

His smile grew, but all he said was, “Won’t you be busy with Alya?”

“No,” Marinette said flatly. She saw Luka’s eyebrow lift at her tone, but she didn’t elaborate.

“Carbonnade sounds perfect. I’ll grab the salad stuff, as long as you don’t mind just going with what I can get from the supermarket, and I’ll pick up some more milk. I think we’re getting a bit low.” He swung his bag over his shoulder. “Have fun,” Luka said, and she gave a sigh.

She really wasn’t looking forward to this particular confrontation, even though she knew it had to happen. There was no way she could just write everything Alya had said off as a drunken mistake.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Luka, Tikki emerged from the shelf where she’d been watching from her nest and drifted over to Marinette. The tiny red kwami eyed her in concern, and Marinette gave her a strained smile of reassurance.

“So Alya’s on her way here. What are you going to do?” Tikki asked.

“I really don’t know,” Marinette said slowly. She pulled out the scrap piece of denim for Luka’s coat, and smoothed it out on her desk. She’d started marking it up as a test pattern for the embroidery she had in mind, but she wasn’t really seeing it now as she frowned down at it. “Bad enough all the things that Lila did back in collège, but now she’s targeting Luka. And Alya’s falling for her stories all over again.” That cut deep, if Marinette was being honest. “I’m not going to let Alya spread Lila’s lies for her this time.”

Sass was coiled up among the reels of ribbon and wire on one of the shelves, and he was almost invisible against the sea green velvet ribbon that he’d chosen to sleep on, until he raised his head.

“I do not wisssh to ssspeak ill of your friend, Missstresss, but ssshe hass bad tasste in mussic,” the tiny snake hissed, dismissing the thought of Alya with a contemptuous flick of his tail.

“I don’t think her taste in music is the problem. She likes Luka’s music. She has his album.”

“If ssshe would rather lissten to that one’sss empty noissse -” Sass’ speech was becoming more sibilant “- than Luka’sss honesssty, then ssshe hass bad tasssste.”

Marinette was a little startled by the observation. She knew that Sass was intrigued by Luka, and fascinated by his music, but she hadn’t known that the kwami had become that attached to him. She gave Sass a thoughtful look as he settled back down into the velvet ribbon with an irritated hiss.

“I just wish I knew what Lila’s up to,” she said. “It’s pretty clear she wants to get close to Luka, but then why would she be so set on getting into Alya’s head with all those stories about him? Unless…” Marinette’s eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. “No, that’s ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly think…”

“Think what?” Tikki prompted her.

“That I’m too close to Luka.”

“Is that so ridiculous?”

“But… I thought that Alya wasn’t serious about all that stuff about me and Luka. What on earth has she been telling Lila?”

“You’ll have a chance to ask her in a minute,” Tikki piped as the doorbell rang.

Tikki zipped back into her nest, and the other kwamis vanished into hiding, as Marinette set aside the piece of denim and went to let Alya in.

A million confrontations had been playing out in Marinette’s head ever since she’d got home from the bar last night. All the things she wanted to say to Alya, all the things Alya might say to her, all the ways things might resolve or crash and burn, and furious arguments buzzed in her head alongside the guilt for feeling so angry with her best friend, who was only trying to look out for her after all, and the endless self-questioning. Was she being too sensitive? Too infatuated with Luka to consider Alya’s point?

But that was where the million paths narrowed down to one thing – Luka had been wrongly accused – and with that thought came the diamond-hard clarity that came to her when Ladybug’s battle plans snapped into focus. It didn’t matter whether Marinette was too sensitive, or smitten, or stubborn or not. Marinette wasn’t going to stand back and let Luka be harmed by any of Alya’s nonsense or Lila’s lies.

The doorbell pealed again impatiently, and she opened the door to deal with whatever Alya had to say.

Alya swept in with a perfunctory hug and a somewhat defensive grimace. She strode into Marinette’s bedroom ahead of her, and spun around to face her. “Okay, so last night was a mistake, but I was a bit drunk -”

“No kidding,” Marinette muttered under her breath as she sat down at her desk and picked up the piece of denim she’d left there. She let it sit in her lap, and glanced up at Alya. “You really had me worried when I got that code red.”

“I know, I know, but those cocktails were a bit stronger than I thought they were.” Alya started drifting restlessly around Marinette’s room. “And, hey, at least we know the code works –“

There was no apology, of course, or even a mention of anything else that she’d said about Luka at the bar. Marinette tuned out whatever Alya was saying, and she eyed the snake design that she’d drawn on the fabric in her lap. Maybe a few hints of teal soutache, to highlight the monochrome cord that she’d had in mind and give a suggestion of scales…

“- and Nino’s got a gig tonight. You are coming, aren’t you? I owe you at least a kir or two for dragging you out last night.”

“Not tonight,” Marinette cut her off sharply, without looking up from her contemplation of the design, and Alya stared at her in surprise.

“Girl, I’m not going to let you sit at home and do nothing. There’s a really cute guy in my ethics class who said he’s going to be there, and –“

“Alya, no. No more blind dates.”

Was Alya really not going to say anything about the way she’d accused Luka?

There was a heartbeat’s silence, then Alya started again, “Just because a few dates didn’t go well –“

“No,” Marinette said implacably.

Alya huffed. “Fine, no setups, I promise. Now, will you come to Nino’s gig?”

Marinette reached for her pincushion, and rummaged through a box of braid for the soutache she had in mind, trying to keep her bubbling anger in check. “Not tonight. I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just going to be hanging around at home.”

With Luka.

Alya must have seen Marinette’s expression, because her own shifted to obstinacy, and she folded her arms. “I’m not going to let you do this, Marinette. I know he’s hot, but Luka has a history.”

“The history that Lila came up with and cobbled together out of tabloid rubbish and pure fiction? That history?”

“This isn’t about Lila!”

“She isn’t your inside source?” Marinette asked, her attention on the fabric as she coiled and pinned the teal braid in place. “Huh.” Before Alya could say anything, Marinette asked, “So why did you send that code red last night?”

Alya gave her a confused look. “So you could meet XY. I told you that.”

“And who came up with that particular idea?”

Alya made an exasperated noise, but the way her eyes slid away from Marinette was all the answer she needed.

“So it was Lila’s idea,” Marinette said.

“She’s just worried about you. So am I,” Alya sighed, and then, reluctantly, she went on, “Look, I didn’t want to tell you, because I know you’re kind of biased against her, but Lila and Luka used to be a thing, until he broke it off when –“

Marinette started laughing, and kept laughing as Alya’s expression morphed from startled to confused, and through to annoyed.

“Oh, come on,” Marinette gasped, hiccupping as she tried to stop giggling. “You can’t really believe that one.”

“He’s not some plaster saint, Marinette. Whether you want to believe it or not, he’s hooked up with other women.”

“I know, but not Lila.”

“Is that what he’s told you? Mari, I’m a journalist, and you’re going to take the word of some guy you’ve only known a few months over your best friend?” Alya threw at her, her voice tight with indignation and hurt.

And oh, the irony of that accusation. Marinette swallowed down all the responses that rushed to be said. When she could trust herself to speak calmly, she said, “When everything you’re saying about him comes straight from Lila? A journalist is only as good as her sources, and maybe you should think a bit harder about which ones you’re quoting.”

“Just because you and Lila don’t get on –“

Marinette snorted at that. “And why is that again? I’ve got far more reason to trust Luka’s word on anything than I have to trust Lila.”

She had let a lot of things slide when she was fourteen, when she was the only one being targeted by Lila, when any negative thoughts could send a purple butterfly her way. But she wasn’t letting this slide. Not when Luka would be hurt by whatever lies Lila told and Alya repeated.

“Lila was lying back then, and she’s lying now. I know, the same way I knew back in collège that she never rescued Jagged’s mythical kitten.” Marinette met Alya’s gaze with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve worked with Jagged, remember?”

“I know, and?” Alya said, her forehead pinching in a confused frown for a moment, as if she didn’t get the implication of that, and maybe she didn’t. It wasn’t as if Marinette talked about it much – it always felt too much like bragging, and a breach of Jagged’s confidence. “You’d never even met Luke… Luka… before he moved back to Paris. There’s a lot goes on on tour that you don’t know about.”

“But there’s nothing that Penny Rolling doesn’t know about,” Marinette said pointedly, “and I can have her on the phone in five minutes to verify everything, if you don’t want to take my word for it that Lila’s never met Luka or Jagged. Penny’s whole job as their manager is keeping track of everything, and everyone, around them. And Penny doesn’t know Lila.”

“But she’s married to Jagged. She’s Luka’s stepmother. Of course she’s going to deny everything if it reflects badly on them,” Alya argued stubbornly, and Marinette threw up her hands. “It’s not just Lila saying this stuff,” Alya insisted, and held out her phone.

Sure enough, Alya had called up yet another story about Luke Stone and a secret love child that he’d supposedly abandoned to pursue his wild career. How many children had he theoretically fathered in the last seven years? And he was only twenty-two. Marinette didn’t even recognise the minor reality show celebrity he was linked with in this one. She could feel her teeth gritting, and her glance flicked up to take in the banner of a sleazy international tabloid across the top of the screen.

She set aside her pins and the denim piece, and stood up. “The Daily Mail, Alya? Really? I can’t believe you’d take anything they publish seriously. I know for a fact that you’ve written entire essays on just how bad their track record is with the truth, and these are the sources you’re relying on? Lila and the Daily Mail. What happened to that journalistic integrity you were telling me about?” In spite of herself, she couldn’t help the contempt that leaked into her voice, or the Ladybug flash in her eyes.

“Jeez, Mari,” Alya huffed, but Marinette could still remember the tension in Luka’s frame last night, even as he’d tried to shrug it off. And she remembered what it had felt like, standing in the principal’s office frozen in disbelief as Lila accused her of cheating and stealing. She met Alya’s gaze, and Alya was the one to look away.

There was a long silence, while Alya looked like she wanted to argue. Expressions chased themselves across her features like storm clouds, until finally she made a face, and said reluctantly, “Okay, I’ll give you the Daily Mail article, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong about Luka.”

It was the closest to an admission of fault that Marinette had ever heard from her best friend. It wasn’t good enough, and Marinette could feel fierce tension thrumming in her bones.

“I live with Luka. I know his sister – you know his sister – and I have his manager and step-mother’s number in my frequent contacts list. And I’m telling you, Luka isn’t a deadbeat player, any more than I’m a thief and a cheat,” she said meaningfully, and Alya’s face screwed up at the reminder, “and if you spread this stuff around about him I will never speak to you again.”

“Would you be this quick to throw out everything I say if you didn’t have a raging crush on him?” Alya grumbled, her arms still folded defensively, but it lacked conviction now.

“I hope I’d speak up for anyone being slandered like that,” Marinette insisted, but she couldn’t help the wash of heat that flooded her face in spite of herself. The look that Alya gave her was a knowing smirk not untinged with sympathy.

“Girl, you have got it bad,” she said, and heaved a dramatic sigh as she unfolded her arms. “Fine, I won’t trash your boyfriend –“

“Alya –“ Marinette groaned.

“- But I will kick his ass if he hurts you,” Alya continued firmly.

“We’re just housemates.”

“Whatever you say, Mari.” Alya nudged Marinette with her shoulder, and grinned. “At least you’ll have a great story to tell your grandkids about how you banged Luke Stone.”

“Alya!” A dozen spluttering responses tangled up in her mouth, even as she recognised it for the teasing peace offering that it was, and a choked laugh escaped her instead. Marinette hadn’t been aware of just how tightly she’d been holding herself until Alya backed down. She realised that a part of her had expected that to be the end of their friendship, and the relief that flooded through her left her feeling a little shaky.

“And because I’m such a good friend,” Alya went on, “I’ll be there with the ice-cream, and I won’t even say I told you so.”

If it ever came to that, Marinette reflected wryly, Alya would so be saying I told you so. She could no more resist the opportunity to be right, even when she was wrong, than she could stop breathing. Marinette really wished she could share Alya’s conviction, though, that Luka was interested in her as more than a housemate, but she didn’t entirely trust Alya’s perception at that moment.

She said a little drily, “And when Lila’s stories blow up, I promise I’ll do the same for you. Just do me a favour and don’t put your career on the line for anything she says – I don’t think there’s enough ice-cream in the world for that.”

“I won’t need it,” Alya assured her, and Marinette chose to ignore the faint hint of condescension in her tone. “But once we’ve worked our way through all the break up movies we can find, I’m going to drag you out to meet this really cute guy in one of my classes that you have to-“

“No. Alya, no more dates,” Marinette cut her off, half-laughing and half-exasperated. And, because she didn’t want to deal with another fight about her love life just then, as Alya opened her mouth, Marinette said quickly, with a roll of her eyes, “I’ll consider it once we’ve finished that ice-cream you think I’m going to need.”

Alya grinned at her, and pulled her into a hug. “You’re on. Are you sure I can’t talk you into coming to Nino’s gig tonight?”

Marinette shook her head, and walked her through the living room to the apartment’s front door. As it closed behind Alya, Marinette collapsed limply into the couch and sat there for a moment. She waited until the adrenaline-fuelled trembling in her fingers had faded before she reached for her phone, and sent off a quick text to Luka.

She found herself smiling foolishly down at his thumbnail photo, and wondering how she could possibly have missed it if Alya was right about the way he looked at her. Alya had to be mistaken…

… wasn’t she?

~~~~~

The moment Luka got Marinette’s text telling him that she’d just started dinner, and asking what time he’d be home, he packed up his notes and his laptop. It wasn’t like he’d made much progress with his paper, anyway. He swung by the supermarket, and grabbed the things Marinette had asked for. On an impulse, he detoured to a tiny chocolatier a couple of streets away from the supermarket, and bought a small box of the pralinés that he’d learned she liked. He had a feeling she might need a chocolate hit.

The apartment was smelling amazing when he got home, and Marinette was whirling around the kitchen, humming something softly under her breath as she chopped and measured things into the pot simmering on the stove.

“Hey,” he greeted her from the doorway, and tried not to smile when she jumped and squeaked.

“Luka! That was quick. You didn’t have to rush home – it’s going to be a while before dinner’s ready.” She shot a distracted glance at the pot, leaning over to give it a quick stir. He resisted the temptation to reach out and brush away the streak of flour she’d managed to smear across her cheek. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“It’s fine. I was running out of inspiration, anyway. How did things go with Alya?”

Marinette pulled a face at the beef and ale bubbling gently on the stove. “It could have been worse, and at least we’re still talking to each other. She’s backed off on those rumours about you, although I don’t think I’ve managed to convince her that Lila’s up to something. And hopefully, there won’t be any more blind dates for a while.”

He couldn’t help laughing at the way her nose wrinkled with the thought of more dates.

Luka unfolded himself from the doorframe. He slipped his backpack from his shoulder, and started unpacking the groceries. He slid the tiny box of chocolates across the bench towards her, and her eyes lit up as she caught sight of the box.

“I thought you could use these,” he said sympathetically, “after what you’ve had to deal with the past couple of days.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, and laughed. “I’m not going to say no to chocolate. So, thank you, Luka - you didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.”

God, he was hopeless. Luka turned away and busied himself with washing his hands and starting to prep the salad so that he wouldn’t betray himself with the besotted look he could feel on his face.

Her hand appeared beside his shoulder, holding out the open chocolate box. There was already one missing.

“These are amazing,” she said a little thickly. “You have to try one.”

“You’re going to spoil your dinner,” he teased, reaching to take one.

She bumped his shoulder, and he glanced back to find her grinning at him. “Don’t underestimate me. So did you manage to actually get anything done at the library, or was it just an excuse to avoid Alya?”

He grinned back as he answered her teasing question, and they moved around each other easily in the small kitchen space, chatting over the rhythmic sound of the knife as Luka chopped vegetables, while the carbonnade simmered gently and Marinette gave it an occasional stir.

It all felt so easy, so right, as Luka put the salad on the little dining table and caught Marinette’s quirked eyebrow when he reached for the bread she’d set beside him. He took the plate of carbonnade that she’d ladled out for him, and raised a laughing eyebrow in return as he dipped the bread into it.

And after the plates had been cleaned, and stowed away, they gravitated to the couch together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Luka let his fingers drift over the frets of his acoustic guitar as Marinette tucked her feet up under her and sketched, with the box of chocolates between them. She nudged the box closer to him with one toe, and the smile that swept over her when he took one could have lit the room. He was finding it hard to remember why he’d thought asking Marinette out would be such a bad idea. Maybe Juleka was right, and he really was an idiot.

But, watching her as she turned back to whatever she was sketching, he was reluctant to risk this moment and find out. After their intense conversation last night, this felt restful - just idle talk when something occurred to one of them, and easy silence when it didn’t. In the quiet between them, Luka found himself playing to the gentle scratch of her pencil. There was music in the soft rush of her breath as she glanced up at him through those dark lashes of hers, and away again as faint pink dusted her cheeks.

And… he heard her melody, clear as the summer sky.

Luka let the new song in his head spill into the strings of his guitar, and it was Marinette. The music was a soft, skipping ripple with a hint of purpose and a heart of sweetness. He played her whirlwind of head and hands too full of ideas to be still, and the flash of fire in her blue eyes. He played the sense of falling deeper than he’d ever thought possible.

It was everything he’d spent the last two years trying to get back. This felt like life rushing back into a numb limb, prickling and insistent and painful and alive and wonderful.

“I don’t know that song,” Marinette said, her head cocked to one side as she listened, her pencil stilling on the page. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think so too,” Luka said, keeping his voice casual with some difficulty.

~~~~~

The lights were still on in the apartment when Juleka got home in the dark hours somewhere after four. And, of course, her brother and Marinette were still up. Juleka wandered through the living room, rolling her eyes as she passed the couch where Marinette was curled up with a sketchbook on her lap beside Luka, who was smiling at something that Marinette said. He had his acoustic in his hands, playing something too softly to disturb the neighbours.

Juleka had just reached the kitchen when the tune Luka was tinkering with registered with her and brought her up short. She backtracked. When her brother looked up, she was watching him thoughtfully.

“Haven’t heard that one before,” she said in a carefully nonchalant voice. “Is it something new?”

“Just something I started hearing lately,” he told her, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered towards Marinette. Juleka just gave a short nod without an explanation, and retreated to the kitchen.

She had the feeling her arrival had broken some kind of spell, though, and Marinette yawned, dropping her pencil to stretch.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, tilting her head back to catch a glimpse of the clock. She blinked, and then gave a little gasp as the hour sank in. Marinette unwound herself from the couch, and slowly got to her feet, and Juleka couldn’t help but notice the way Luka’s eyes followed her unconsciously, even as he kept playing.

“Goodnight, Melody,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”

Marinette just gave him a sleepy smile on the way to her bedroom, but Juleka’s eyebrows shot up at the nickname.

Well, that was new.

What on earth had been going on in the few hours that she’d been gone??

After Marinette’s door closed behind her, Juleka cleared her throat and waited, but Luka didn’t look up from his guitar. Juleka shook her head and started up the staircase to her room, leaving her brother to his music and Marinette’s song. He’d probably still be there on the couch in the morning, a lovesick smile on his face and blisters on his fingers.

Idiots, the both of them.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #Living Arrangements #ML AU #and they were roommates #everybody talks #a lot #alya salt #they're idiots your honor

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