Chapter Text
Luka had never really been one for coincidences. Charles Dickens was a wonderful writer, but centering a plot around two guys happening to look enough alike for one to be executed in the other’s place without an ounce of consanguinity was just…not a deal-breaker, per se, but still a bit of a letdown.
However.
Luka was considering a change of heart concerning coincidences because what were the odds that Adrien Agreste would find himself in that particular bar on that particular night when one of Luka’s bands was performing? Maybe coincidences were acceptable plot devices when they worked in Luka’s favor.
Luka’s skin burned as his sister’s cute, blonde friend stared at the band (at Luka?), entranced, as they played a metal cover of Saint-Saëns’s Danse Macabre, their last song of the night.
Seven minutes passed in a blur as Luka tried to watch Adrien’s reactions without letting their eyes meet. He had a feeling that Adrien might look away or bolt if he knew he’d been spotted.
After the song came to an end, Luka took the first possible opportunity to rush off the stage and quickly pack up his stuff.
Jacob, the bassist, cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. “Where’s the fire?”
“I want to try to catch someone I saw in the crowd,” Luka explained, carefully placing his guitar into its case.
Josie, the drummer, let out a wolf whistle. “Is she cute?”
Luka rolled his eyes. “He.”
“Is he cute?” Josie revised, clapping him good-naturedly on the back as she passed.
“Of course he is. He’s a literal model,” Luka thought to himself but responded only with a shake of the head and an exasperated smile.
“Ignore them, Luc,” Marc, their leader and vocalist, laughed, coming up to tussle Luka’s hair. “They’re only capable of thinking with their pelvises.”
Jacob and Josie held their hands up in surrender even as they shot each other lascivious smirks.
“Go,” Marc encouraged. “We’ve got cleanup covered.”
“Thank you.” Luka gave the older man a grateful smile and hurried off.
“Good luck with your conquest!” Jacob shouted after him.
Luka gave no indication that he had heard.
Luka found Adrien seated at the end of the bar, head down, sipping nervously at a limonade, and muttering into his drink. The younger boy looked like he really wished he could turn invisible. His dark-wash jeans and black, designer polo didn’t look particularly out of place in the bar, but Adrien’s posture screamed, “I don’t belong here”.
Luka slid onto the barstool next to Adrien’s. “Is this seat taken?” he purred in what he hoped was a suave, I-pick-up-models-in-bars-all-the-time voice.
Adrien jumped, nearly knocking over his glass.
Luka winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“L-Luka,” Adrien choked. “No. No, it’s fine. Sorry. Um…go ahead. No one’s…” He bit his lip and trailed off.
Luka kept a tranquil, reassuring smile pasted on. “Thanks. So…what are you doing here?”
Adrien’s shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head with a sigh of resignation. “Busted. It figures.” He looked up with limpid green eyes that turned Luka’s insides to mush, pleading, “I swear I’ll go straight home, so could you do me a favor and please not tell on me?”
Adrien rose to go, but Luka caught him by the wrist.
“Wait,” he chuckled.
Adrien’s brow furrowed in an expression of confused apprehension.
“Sit back down,” Luka urged. “That wasn’t an accusation. I was honestly just asking what brought you here out of curiosity. Adrien, I’m not going to rat you out.”
Luka’s easy smile seemed to calm Adrien somewhat as his anxiety gave way to simple puzzlement.
“You’re not?” He took a seat. “But…I’m not supposed to be here. I’m…” Adrien cast a quick glance around them and lowered his voice. “…underage.”
Luka could only laugh softly. “Adrien, you’ve met my mother, Queen of Anarchy, right? Do you think I care that you’re not supposed to be here?”
An attractive blush spread across Adrien’s cheeks, and his posture relaxed as he laughed at himself. “I guess not. Sorry. Guilty conscience.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Luka insisted, letting go of Adrien’s wrist and giving the younger teen a pat on the back. “So, for real, what are you doing here?”
Adrien gulped, looking down at his limonade. “Acting out?”
“Oh?” Luka hummed in interested but allowed Adrien to decide whether to elaborate or not.
Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair. “At least, I’m trying to. My plan was to sneak out and, you know, ‘paint the town red’. I thought I would hit up a bar and get a little drunk and dance with wild abandon and maybe end up on the front of tomorrow’s gossip rags to kind of…I don’t know.”
Adrien blew out another sigh. “This was supposed to be the precipitating event that would make my father realize that there’s more to life than ruling a fashion empire and that children don’t just raise themselves. I thought…if I really screwed up, maybe he’d, you know, do something about it. Personally.”
Adrien’s voice crumpled into a small, defeated, and yet still wishful tone. “…Like play board games with me once or twice a month…or maybe eat meals with me sometimes or…”
Luka wasn’t sure what to do. His natural instinct was to reach out and rub soothing circles on Adrien’s back like Luka did for Juleka sometimes, but he didn’t know Adrien particularly well, and they weren’t close enough for him to be able to determine whether the contact would be welcome.
Adrien rested his head on the counter, oblivious to Luka’s internal struggle. “This was a bad plan,” he groaned. “Places like this with all these people I don’t know stress me out. I don’t know how to act around others outside of an industry party setting. I feel so out of place, and I’m terrified to even try to order anything with alcohol in it because the bartender is going to take one look at me and laugh because I’m sixteen and I look it. Then they’re going to call my father and get him out of bed, and he’s going to send me away to a boarding school for troubled rich brats.”
Adrien looked up with damp eyes, the tears threatening to break at any moment. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a downer. I just—” He broke off with a shake of the head. “I’m sorry for going off on you like that. I wish I had the excuse of being drunk, but I don’t. I’m just blathering at you because it’s been the matriarch of bad days, and I suck at this. I really suck at this.” Adrien let out a strangled laugh. “I can’t even act out right.”
“Hey,” Luka cooed, reaching out to give Adrien’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. When Adrien leaned into the touch, Luka dared to run his thumb gently up and down the side of Adrien’s neck in slow, soothing strokes.
“You’re fine,” Luka whispered as softly as he could to still be heard in the bar.
Adrien soaked up the attention like a sponge as calm washed over him and his breathing evened out.
“You’re not blathering. You’re fine,” Luka continued in a level, almost hypnotic tone. “You can talk to me about it. I know we’re not close, but…think of me as a friend. I’d like to be your friend.”
Adrien studied Luka thoughtfully for a moment. “…Okay,” he decided, the tension leaving his body. “I’d like that.”
Luka smiled and gradually retracted his hand, letting it slide down Adrien’s arm before pulling away. “It sounds like you’re going through some stuff. Do you want to talk about it? I don’t mind listening.”
Adrien bit his lip, gaze dropping back down to his glass on the counter.
“You don’t have to confide in me,” Luka clarified. “I just want you to know that you can if that’s what you want, okay?”
Adrien nodded. “It’s just the usual family drama,” he sighed, picking up his limonade and taking a disinterested sip. “My mother walked out on us three years ago, and it kind of wrecked my father. Not that he was dad of the year before, but…sometimes…I don’t think he loves me. Sometimes I feel like I’m an obligation, like an item on a checklist—did someone feed Adrien today? I have to remember to say hello to Adrien sometime this week; I haven’t done that lately. Adrien was less than perfect at something; I have to come out of my atelier and act like a parent for once this month by disciplining my child,” Adrien mocked ruefully, his grip on his glass tightening. “It’s…stupid. I should just be grateful I have a roof over my head and plenty of food to eat. I know there are a lot of people with a lot less than I have, but…I’d trade it all for a two-bedroom apartment in the twentieth arrondissement and a father who loved me…. That’s all. I’m done talking now.”
Adrien groaned, looking up in mortification at Luka. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure I sound like such a whiney brat. I’m not normally like this. Today was just—”
“—I remember what it was like when my father left us,” Luka cut in. “I remember how bad that hurt for him to leave me and my mom and Juleka. I don’t think I’d be as okay as I am today if I hadn’t known without a doubt that my mother loved me fiercely, so…don’t apologize so much. You might live in luxury, but, emotionally, you’ve had it rough…and it’s okay to have a bad day.”
“Oh,” Adrien replied softly, more his lips forming the syllable than him actually saying the word in his stunned state.
He had expected only disdain and resentment for daring to complain when so many others had less, but Luka had given him acceptance and comfort. It left him breathless, a warm feeling slowly blooming in his chest.
“…Thank you,” Adrien thought to add a few minutes later.
“Sure.” Luka’s lips shifted into a smile of support and understanding.
A comfortable silence fell between them as Adrien looked thoughtfully down into his glass and Luka took the opportunity to study his companion.
Luka pursed his lips. “…You don’t look like you’re having much fun. Do you want me to take you home?”
Adrien shook his head. “If I go home and no one knows I was missing, I’m going to cry. When I get home, I really need my father to be worried sick. I need to see the look of relief on his face, and I need him to pull me into a crushing hug and tell me he was scared…before he inevitably chews me out and grounds me. I need some kind of proof that…” He trailed off and shook his head again. “This is a desperate plea for help. I’m aware that I’m being childish, but…”
Luka reached out and tussled Adrien’s hair. “You’re not being childish. You’re trying to take care of yourself. True, it would be better if you could just ask your father for the affection you need without all this trouble, but…if you need something, Adrien, it’s not wrong to try to get it.”
Adrien laughed, an amused grin slowly stretching across his lips. “Luka, I know I’m being childish. I really appreciate you saying otherwise, though. It’s nice to feel like my theatric displays are valid forms of emotional expression.”
“Your feelings, at least, are valid,” Luka murmured.
There was a beat.
“If you’re not going home, allow me to keep you company,” Luka proposed. “You’re obviously feeling pretty raw. The last thing you need is to be alone with all that right now.”
“I wouldn’t want to ruin your night with my morose mood,” Adrien explained with a sad shake of his head. “I don’t imagine hanging out with me would be any fun for you. I couldn’t make you do that. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Please,” Luka rolled his eyes. “There’s no way I can just leave you like this. It will ruin my night if I walk away now. I won’t be able to sleep for worrying about you.”
A gradual blush slowly worked its way up into Adrien’s cheeks as a pleased smile teased at his lips. “…Well…if you don’t mind.”
“I’ve already told you I’m here for you if you need to talk through whatever’s going on,” Luka reminded gently. “Friends are there for one another.”
“Okay,” Adrien tentatively agreed, turning a grateful smile on Luka that made his insides twist up.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Luka hummed happily at his triumph. “You said you wanted to get a little drunk?”
“Can you buy me a drink?” Adrien wondered. “Will the bartender let you?”
Luka shrugged. “We’ll find out. Provided he does, what would you want?”
Adrien chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “This is embarrassing, but…I have no idea. I’ve only ever had wine with meals, and while I know my way around a wine list and what to pair with what…I really don’t have the first clue about any other type of alcohol. Any recommendations?”
Luka smiled warmly. “Okay. So you probably don’t want anything too strong to start with. What kinds of wine do you like? Sweet? Dry? Savory? Tannic?”
Adrien shrugged. “Sweet and fruity is best, in my opinion.”
Luka nodded. “Okay. Maybe something with fruit juice where you can’t really taste the alcohol. Maybe a piña colada or sex on the beach.” Luka took note of the fetching blush forming on Adrien’s cheeks but benevolently refrained from commenting. “Or…do you like chocolate?”
Adrien’s eyes widened, pupils dilating in interest. “Yes?”
“How about a chocolate martini?” Luka suggested.
“Yes,” Adrien agreed emphatically, a relaxed smile settling onto his features.
“Perfect,” Luka chuckled. “And if they won’t serve you here, I’ll take you back home with me and make you one myself. Sound good?”
Adrien nodded happily. “Thank you.”
Luka winked. “No sweat.” He turned his attention to the bartender. “Hey, Raoul. Can I please get a chocolate martini and a whiskey, neat?”
Raoul, a large man with sable skin and a shaved head, turned to grin at Luka. “Coming right up, Bluebell.” He paused, smile faltering when he caught sight of Adrien. The smile faded into a frown. “The other drink’s for him?”
Luka nodded confidently. “Problem?”
Raoul sighed, coming over to mutter. “Bluebell, there’s no way your date is eighteen.”
“He just had a birthday,” Luka lied, face impassive.
Raoul arched an eyebrow doubtfully.
Luka had the gall to look hurt. “Would I lie to you?”
“Yes,” Raoul barked in laughter before turning to Adrien with a sigh. “How’s your alcohol tolerance, Dollface?”
Adrien winced and answered truthfully. “Practically nonexistent?”
Raoul took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You get two drinks. That’s it.” He turned back to Luka, waving an accusatory finger in the guitarist’s face. “You. Watch him. You’re in charge of making sure he’s okay. Screw up, and I never bend the rules for you again, Couffaine. Got it?”
Luka pushed Raoul’s finger away with a disarming smile. “I’ll take care of him.”
“See that you do,” Raoul threatened. “Chocolate martini and a whiskey, neat coming right up.”
Luka waved Adrien away when he attempted to pay, insisting, “Tonight’s on me.”
“But—”
“—No buts.” Luka put down his foot. “You can tip Raoul, if you want, but I’m paying for your drinks.”
Adrien stared at his companion intently for a minute before determining that he would not be winning this fight. “…Thank you,” he replied instead and then repeated the words as Raoul set the chocolate martini down in front of him. He handed Raoul twenty euros.
“You’re welcome. Watch yourself around this one.” Raoul pointed to Luka. “He might look like a bad boy, but he’s really a prince in disguise. You’ve found yourself a decent guy.”
“Thanks,” Adrien chuckled, not bothering to correct Raoul’s assumption.
Luka took a drink of his whiskey and watched attentively as Adrien sipped experimentally at the chocolate martini. “Good?” he hummed.
“Delicious!” Adrien trilled, taking another swallow.
“Careful,” Luka chuckled. “You may not taste it, but there is vodka in there. Don’t drink it so fast.”
Adrien nodded, setting down the glass and turning to face Luka. “Thank you.”
Luka shrugged. “No worries.”
“I mean…” Adrien bit his lip. “For being so nice to me. Today is seriously kicking my butt, and I’m super out of it. I’m not myself, so…I really appreciate you sitting with me and telling me it’s okay I’m a mess right now and being so kind. I really needed you…I just didn’t know it. Thank you. For all of this.”
A slow blush climbed up Luka’s throat and spread across his cheeks. “My pleasure,” he assured a little too honestly.
Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been the two biggest “what if”s of Luka’s life. He hadn’t quite ever been able to get them out of his head no matter how many other people he dated or how many months passed between seeing either of them.
Adrien smiled at him, and Luka was a goner.
“…Want to try a sip?” Luka held out the whiskey glass.
“Sure.” Adrien took it carefully and hesitantly sipped at the amber liquid. His nose scrunched up in distaste as soon as the whiskey passed his lips. He handed back the glass, sticking his tongue out at Luka as Luka chuckled.
“Sorry,” Luka snickered. “Your face is adorable.”
Adrien coughed, kicking Luka’s foot gently.
“You okay?” Luka patted Adrien on the back.
Adrien was about to make a sarcastic remark when he saw that Luka’s cyan eyes were filled with earnest concern. He smiled sheepishly. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine. No worries. Just no good with alcohol, I guess.”
“I take it you don’t like whiskey,” Luka chuckled, sitting up a little straighter and taking a sip of his drink.
Adrien shook his head, going back to his chocolate martini. “It’s okay. I mean, kind of sweet and maple-y but too astringent for my taste. It definitely tastes like alcohol, whereas this,” He lifted his martini. “tastes like dessert, and I know which one I prefer.”
“Fair enough,” Luka conceded. “Rose is like that too. Juleka can go both ways, but I find it disconcerting when I know there’s alcohol in something but can’t taste it.”
“To each their own.” Adrien shrugged. “…Hey, so…I only caught the tail end of your performance, but you guys were amazing. I really enjoyed your Danse Macabre cover.”
Luka beamed. “Thank you very much. I’m glad you liked it. I’ll have to tell the others, and maybe they’ll let me do more metal arrangements of classical pieces. We’ve done the third movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata before, but I’ve been wanting to do something from Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony, so…”
“Wait.” Adrien blinked owlishly. “You did that arrangement?”
Luka nodded.
“That’s incredible,” Adrien breathed, staring at the older teen in admiration.
Luka could feel his body starting to heat up. He wasn’t drunk enough to deal with Adrien looking at him like that. “Thank you. I’m just glad there was someone here who could truly appreciate it. I don’t think most people have heard the original or even knew we were doing a cover. Josie and Jacob—my bandmates—had never heard of Danse Macabre before.”
“Seriously?” Adrien’s angelic face contorted into an expression of abject horror. “I guess my understanding of what everyone else listens to is kind of skewed, since I come from a musical family, but…Danse Macabre is one of my favourites. I used to do a piano and violin version with my…”
Brother Félix whom I haven’t seen in eight years since he left home and my parents disowned him.
“…friend,” Adrien edited. “I used to have a friend who played the violin. He played competitively, and I’d accompany him on piano sometimes when he was practicing. My father said I wasn’t good enough to do the concours with him, but I was allowed to play with him when he was practicing when his real accompanist couldn’t be there, so…we liked to play Danse Macabre together. The first movement of Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata too.”
“The Kreutzer would be a fun one to do a cover of.” Luka nodded appreciatively at the idea. “You two don’t play together anymore?”
Adrien shook his head sadly. “He moved away. We lost touch.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Luka replied, and Adrien was pleased to find that, rather than being the usual empty platitude, Luka actually was sorry.
“Thanks,” Adrien returned softly. “I miss him.”
“Maybe you could try to reconnect,” Luka suggested. “I’m sure you could hire someone to track down his address and phone number.”
Adrien shrugged reluctantly. He had the address, and he spoke with his sister-in-law weekly, but Félix had made it clear that he didn’t think he had any right to talk to his brother again after quote-unquote “abandoning” Adrien. “I don’t know that we’d have anything in common anymore. It’s been eight years.”
“You’ll always have music, even if he doesn’t play anymore,” Luka protested. “Once a musician, always a musician, and music is a universal language. Whole friendships can be carried out through music without either party having to exchange a word.”
Adrien chuckled softly. “You’re pretty convincing.”
“I believe in what I’m selling,” Luka assured with a wink.
“You really love music, don’t you?” Adrien sighed wistfully.
“It’s my life,” Luka responded passionately but then registered Adrien’s tone. “…You said that as if you don’t.”
Adrien shrugged and downed the rest of his martini, chocolate sauce smudging on his upper lip. “Sometimes I love music. When I’m at the opera or ballet or theatre. When I get to go to a concert or when I listen on my phone. When I’m fooling around on the piano, playing what I want to play. When I’m singing in my room where no one can hear me. …A lot of the time I love music,” Adrien revised. “But not all the time.”
“When don’t you love music?” Luka wondered softly.
Adrien set down his empty glass and sighed ruefully. “When my father locks me in my room and forces me to practice the same song again and again until I can play it perfectly just because I was so afraid to screw up when I played it in front of him that I screwed up a note or two. When my father starts harping at me with his, ‘Those are sixteenth notes, Adrien. It’s not up to you to interpret the piece. Play it how the composer wrote it’,” Adrien added quietly. “I don’t love music when music is a punishment.”
“I don’t think I like your father,” Luka snorted, trying to contain his outrage.
“Most people don’t,” Adrien laughed sadly.
“Music should never be a punishment,” Luka continued in a cold fury. “Music is the purest form of human expression. Music is how we unload our grief and our anger and our pain. It’s how we cope. Music is how we rejoice…. It’s the only adequate means we have of expressing how it feels to fall in love. Music allows us to fully experience our humanity,” Luka insisted, vehemently, voice slowly growing louder. “Turning music into a punishment is pure evil.”
Adrien let out a soft laugh, gently tapping Luka’s foot with his own. “No, you should definitely never meet my father. He’ll give you an aneurism.”
Luka snorted again.
“I wish I had even one ounce of your passion for something, though,” Adrien sighed wistfully. “The way you speak about music is beautiful, Luka. I could listen to you forever. You give me goosebumps.”
Luka found his own skin prickling in a rather pleasant manner at the way Adrien purred the word.
And then Luka’s gaze got stuck on Adrien’s lips.
Heart hammering in his ears, Luka slowly reached out, cupping Adrien’s cheek.
Green eyes searched blue innocently, unsuspecting, as Luka ran his thumb carefully over Adrien’s upper lip.
Adrien opened his mouth to inquire curiously, and Luka drew back.
“You had a bit of chocolate on your lip,” Luka explained thickly, licking the sauce off of his thumb.
Adrien laughed, amused. “You could have just told me.” He rolled his eyes, kicking Luka’s foot again playfully.
“More fun this way,” Luka snickered. “Let me get you another drink?”
Adrien shrugged, beginning to truly relax as he started to feel the alcohol carrying out its work in his bloodstream. “Sure.”
“Same thing or something else?”
“Something else,” Adrien decided. “I mean, who knows when I’ll next get something besides dinner party wine. I might was well take the opportunity to try new things.”
“I need to have you over,” Luka hummed. “The Liberty has a fully-stocked bar, and I’ve gotten pretty good at mixing drinks.”
“Oh yeah?” Adrien chuckled, an impish grin playing on his lips. “You’ll have to show me.”
“Gladly, but it’ll be the same rules for you as it is for Juleka and Rose. There’s a one-drink limit,” Luka informed.
“Your mom has rules on her ship?” Adrien asked in honest surprise.
Luka shook his head. “That’s my rule, not hers. I don’t get minors drunk.”
“So you’re just making an exception for me tonight?” Adrien wondered, chewing at his bottom lip.
Luka nodded. “Because you’re having ‘the matriarch of bad days’, I’m giving you a free pass. In the future, if you want to try different drinks, you can come over, but it’s not going to be some drunken saturnalia.”
“So what you’re saying is that if I want to go wild, tonight’s my only chance?” Adrien tittered, stealing Luka’s drink with a beatific smile.
Luka snickered as Adrien took another sip and winced.
“Still not a fan,” Adrien announced, handing the glass back.
Luka shook his head. “He thinks he’s so cute.”
Adrien’s lips curled up in a smirk. “I know I’m cute. They pay me because I’m cute. Everyone thinks I’m cute.”
Luka rolled his eyes.
“…You think I’m cute,” Adrien pouted.
The pout dissipated as Luka’s cheeks began to turn pink.
Adrien smiled. “You’d really want to have me over? You’ve kind of run into me at my worst. Do you still actually want to hang out with me?”
Luka looked him straight in the eye. “I do. I’d be glad of the opportunity to get to know you better. You’re interesting, Adrien.”
Adrien self-consciously rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Luka assured. “I’ve thought so from the moment we met.”
Adrien let out a short burst of laughter. “You mean when I gracefully faceplanted into the deck of your ship and you helped me back up?”
Luka shook his head. “When you saw that old keyboard and your eyes lit up and the rest of the world ceased to exist as you admired that instrument. From that moment, I knew you were someone I wanted in my life. I underestimated how difficult it would be to get close to you what with your strict father and busy schedule, but I’ve always thought the two of us would get along well. If you ever have time, you should come over, and we can play together. I’m sure it won’t be the same as with your violinist friend, but I’m sure we could have plenty of fun making music together.”
Adrien hummed appreciatively at the earnestness in Luka’s eyes. “I’d like that. I’m so used to playing by myself. I’ve always wanted to try a collaboration. I’d love to play with you.”
“We’ll have to set something up.” Luka nodded, already beginning to look forward to it.
“But first, you have to finish getting me drunk,” Adrien reminded. “You were about to buy me another drink?”
“Sure,” Luka chuckled, smiling fondly at the younger teen. “Do you like iced coffee?”
Adrien nodded.
“Ice cream?”
Adrien nodded more enthusiastically.
“You’re such a kid,” Luka laughed as he turned to the bartender. “Raoul? Could we get a White Russian, but, instead of ice, could you use ice cream?”
Raoul nodded and chuckled, “Dollface got a sweet tooth?”
“Dollface is a poor, deprived model forced to comply with unrealistic industry standards concerning the perfect male body,” Adrien pretended to pout. “Have pity.”
“You’re making me want to give you a second scoop of ice cream,” Raoul sighed. “White Russian with ice cream coming right up.”
Adrien smirked triumphantly and turned back to Luka. “And I’m not a kid.”
“You’re such a kid,” Luka repeated with a grin.
“I’m a teenage heart-throb,” Adrien sniffed indignantly. “I get paid to take my clothes off. I’m not a kid.”
Luka shook his head. “I meant it more along the lines that despite life being unkind to you, you still have that child-like sense of wonder and excitement about you. The world hasn’t chewed you up and spit you out yet. I like that about you. It’s adorable. Stay like that as long as you can.”
Adrien studied Luka pensively. “Do you feel like the world has already had its way with you?”
Luka shrugged, sipping at his whiskey. “I had to grow up fast. When my father walked out on us, my mom and Juleka had a really hard time, so I had to step up and take care of us all. I don’t resent it. I love my family more than anything…but you don’t come away from something like that unscathed. I still have a hard time remembering to take care of myself sometimes because I’m so focused on making sure everyone else is okay.”
Adrien nodded. “My friend Nino is like that…. How old were you?”
“Ten, eleven,” Luka sighed into his glass.
“…Sorry,” Adrien mumbled.
Luka shook his head, hesitantly touching his foot to Adrien’s. “I get the feeling you’ve been through worse than I have.”
“Comparing scars is difficult and subjective at best. Let’s just agree not to,” Adrien proposed. “I mean, we can talk about it without comparing, right?”
A slow smile came to Luka’s lips. “Right.”
Just then, Raoul set Adrien’s White Russian down in front of him. Raoul turned to Luka. “Should I pour you another?”
Luka shook his head. “I’m just having the one drink tonight. I need to keep my wits about me so that he doesn’t have to.” He indicated Adrien with a tip of his head.
Raoul nodded his approval. “Have a nice night, then, you two.”
“Thanks!” Adrien replied enthusiastically, lifting his glass to Raoul.
Luka turned back to Adrien with a smirk. “A toast,” he announced, “to your perfect male body that somehow manages to meet unrealistic industry standards.”
Adrien cracked up as he clinked his glass against Luka’s. “If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s working. Flattery will get you practically everywhere with me.”
“Oh?” Luka hummed. “Good to know.”
Adrien nodded, sipping happily at his drink. “Nino says I’m severely malnourished when it comes to affection. It’s made me a bit of an attention whore, so whenever someone’s nice to me—like you—I pretty much melt. Because of tonight, I’ll be your devoted friend always. I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” Adrien laughed, but it was the kind of laugh where something really hurts you so you try to make other people laugh at it too so that they don’t know how much it bothers you.
Luka tentatively reached out to stroke Adrien’s hair, his face, and down the side of his neck. “You’re brave,” he revised. “You’re doing your best.”
“Not…pathetic?” Adrien gulped as Luka’s thumb skimmed down his neck.
Luka shook his head. “No one can really understand everything you’ve been through. No one can truly know what it’s like to fight the battles you fight every day. No one has the right to judge you, Adrien.”
“Oh,” Adrien breathed, feeling his heart beat in his throat. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or Luka’s kindness making him feel lightheaded.
He cleared his throat, trying to get his heart to go back down into his chest. “Sorry. At home…father’s very stern. He believes in discipline, so…people aren’t nice to me very often. I mean, people are polite, but…not genuinely nice. People say nice things when they want something from me, but they don’t actually mean them. I’m not used to this.” He took a large swallow of his drink, hoping the additional alcohol would help calm this sudden onslaught of nerves at having to deal with such a new and confusing situation.
Luka gave Adrien’s shoulder a pat before slowly withdrawing his hand. “We definitely need to hang out together more. I’d be happy to inoculate you to genuine kindness.”
“Are you this nice to everyone?” Adrien wondered, savoring the taste of ice cream and coffee coating his tongue.
Luka shook his head. “You trigger my protective-big-brother instincts. It’s hard to leave you alone when my neural circuitry is telling me to look out for you.”
Adrien nodded, unfortunately familiar with involuntary responses due to his Chat Noir instincts.
“It’s left over from when I had to take care of my mom and sister. I can’t help but fuss over others and make sure they’re okay. Plus, I’m sincerely fond of you,” Luka dared to add. “Like I said, I knew when I first met you that you were someone I wanted to know. You’re a likeable person. It’s easy to be nice to you.”
Adrien hummed, considering Luka’s words as he quickly finished his drink. “I think you’re just a good, loving person,” Adrien decided, turning to grin at his companion. “You’re caring, and you have a good heart.”
Luka gulped as he noticed the thin residue of ice cream along Adrien’s upper lip. He was tempted to lean in and kiss it off, but he knew that would only ruin the moment. Instead, he picked up a napkin and carefully wiped at Adrien’s mouth.
“You’re sweet, you know that?” Luka whispered huskily. “Hey. Earlier, you said something about dancing with wild abandon. Would that still be something you’re interested in?”
Adrien bit his lip. “With you?”
Luka shrugged, looking away. “Sure, if you want, but not necessarily. I’ll go too just to chaperon, make sure the alcohol doesn’t catch up with you all of the sudden and cause problems, but there are plenty of girls out there.”
Adrien looked out at the dance floor and then back at his companion. He got up from his barstool and held out a hand to Luka. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
Luka blinked, looking back and forth between Adrien’s hand and the breathtaking smile on the model’s face. His heart fluttered, and his stomach began working itself into knots.
There was no denying, no resisting that puckish grin and those peridot eyes.
Luka gulped and placed his hand into Adrien’s, realizing that, if he really wanted to, this boy could bring Luka to his knees.
Part of Luka wanted Adrien to want to.