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Luke’s hungover, sitting at some luxury waiting lounge at the airport, ears and head throbbing at the endless chatter from his entire family around him.
Jace, next to him with shades on as he reads on his Kindle, looks peaceful.
He leans into Jace’s shoulder, groaning. “How long until we can get into the fucking plane?”
Jace shifts, muttering something about how Luke’s heavy as hell.
“Maybe another hour.”
“Aren’t we rich?” Luke instantly cringes at his own words. “I mean— I thought grandpa had like, five planes. Can’t we just get another one?”
“It’ll take more time to get another plane to the island than to wait for this one to be repaired,” Jace says automatically.
Luke groans. “This sucks. My head hurts.”
Jace sighs. He puts the Kindle away for a second to hand Luke his shades. “Here. I have some painkillers on me, if you want.”
Luke puts them on. The relief that comes with protection from the yellow lights of the lounge is instant. “Yes, please. I love you so much.”
“Whatever,” Jace mutters. “Painkillers are on my bag, small pocket at the right.”
Luke thanks him one more time before getting up. He heads to the pile of baggage they created by the door, when everyone simply started dropping their bags as soon as they entered the lounge.
The pills are thankfully easy to find. Luke pops one out of the little bottle before shoving it back between Jace’s sunscreen and phone charger and makes a beeline for the bar.
A young man offers Luke a water bottle as soon as he approaches.
Someone slips into the stool to his right as soon as the guy leaves. Luke pays no mind, thinking it’s just Jace who followed him. He focuses on taking a long sip of water to gulp down his pill instead.
“Hey.” That’s not Jace.
Luke’s brain short-circuits. His head turns slowly, finding Aemond right next to him.
“Um. Hi?” Luke tries. It’s weird enough that Aemond is willing to sit so close to him after ignoring each other’s existence the whole trip, but talking to him?
Aemond seemingly doesn’t notice the awkwardness. He leans into Luke’s space like they’re friends. “You’re going to sit next to me on the plane.”
Luke blinks. He glances around, wondering if it’s a prank. He even pulls the shades up so he can make sure he’s not hallucinating.
“Sorry?”
Aemond chuckles —he honest to God chuckles, like Luke’s an adorable puppy and not someone he’s loathed since childhood— and slips a piece of paper to Luke over the bar before walking away.
It’s one of the business cards they were given as they stepped into the lounge, only that this one had something written over the small printed letters. Washroom, 5 minutes. This has to be a prank. What, is Aemond going to beat him up? Or, at least, attempt to? Aemond’s pretty skinny, but he’s creative enough to figure something out.
Luke spends the next five minutes in pure agony. He thinks of not going— what could his uncle possibly want from him?
Against his better judgement, he goes.
The door is closed. He has to knock for Aemond to open, and the second he does, Luke is dragged inside and pushed up against the wall. Gods, he thinks, This is it—
Aemond’s mouth is on his. It’s not a peck by any means— a full on kiss, with foreign hands pulling his hair and a warm body against him. Luke’s so confused he whimpers a question that goes ignored while Aemond sucks on his lip.
Okay. Change of plans. Luke holds him by the waist, receiving a satisfied whine. That much is correct.
They’re both breathing heavily once Aemond decides he’s had enough. His cheeks are very red, matching the spit on his lip Luke can’t stop staring at.
“You’re a good actor. Almost bought the confused act,” Aemond says with lightness Luke didn’t know he was capable of. “I know we said we’d wait, but I’m too impatient. I guess you know that from last night.”
Luke’s head hurts whenever he thinks of last night. The last thing he remembers is Jace scolding him for ordering yet another shot. He intends to tell Aemond just that, but nothing comes out of his mouth.
Instead, he nods dumbly.
Aemond hums and cups his face. “Do you feel sick?”
Well, that’s a question Luke can answer. “A bit.”
Aemond snorts. “Poor thing, but I’m not surprised. You would’ve drunk acetone had you found it.”
Luke laughs along. “Did you… drink a lot as well?”
“Some bits are blurry,” Aemond shrugs. “Good thing I have reminders.”
“Reminders?”
He lowers the collar of his t-shirt for Luke to see a collection of red and purple marks around his collarbone. Upon further inspection, Luke’s horrified at the realization that those are bites.
“What?”
“It’s fine. I asked for it, right? And you were so eager.”
“I—”
“You don’t remember a lot, do you?” Aemond teases.
No. But Luke’s trying. He stares at Aemond’s exposed shoulder, and he can almost taste the skin. Just like he did last night. Fuck. What did he do? Between his headache and Aemond’s hips, he can’t think right now.
Being truthful about his memory is not an option; this may be weird, but it’s definitely an improvement for them— Luke can’t waste it. So, he does the next thing logical to him: he kisses Aemond again. Softer than before, a slow drag of lips that tastes of mint and margaritas.
They have to leave the washroom at some point.
Aemond opens the door. “See you,” he blows Luke a kiss before finally disappearing.
Luke splashes cold water on his face to function again. By the time he gets the courage to leave, Daemon is about to knock on the door.
“Where have you been, boy? Get your bag! We’re leaving now!”
Luke is sitting next to Aemond on the plane home, it seems.