Chapter Text
Luca has a shitty, old little apartment on the mediocre side of town, where a crack in the wall lets a little too much chill and far too much noise, something unhelped by the fact that Luca likes to keep a window cracked and fire low.
But it has a small balcony with flowers that thrive and terrorize the railings, and just enough room for a chair and table, and it was the first apartment Luca had gotten upon running to England. And despite saying he was going to look for a better place with his now better pay, he's resigned to it for another year. And sometimes, often, it's better than staying in his own home, in his own too cold too empty room, where people feel as though they can barge in at a moments notice and interrupt his painting. So Edgar, begrudgingly, puts up with it. Stays days at a time (Much to the displeasure of his father. But what was he going to do? Tell him not? No, no. He'd certainly given up on that long ago.)
Still, given Edgar already struggles to stay asleep on the best of nights, the apartment can sometimes leave him feeling dazed, and sleepless. Like now, of all times. Blinking around the room, he realizes two things. Luca is not in bed with him (Asshole, jackass, who was he to leave Edgar alone for the night when Edgar was staying at HIS miserable apartment), and that he was in a state of disrobe that he generally was not upon waking up.
He coughs. Right.
Luca's room is generally organized and neat, but with Edgar's presence grows to quickly become messed. Paints spilt in odd places, canvases leaned against the wall, cloth ditched in odd places in their fumbling to the bed earlier. It makes finding something to wear easy. He reaches over to grab the first shirt on the floor, to put himself in a better state of decency (One of Luca's button ups, by the looks of it. It hangs off of him, baggy, but he hardly finds it in himself to care at who knows what time ass in the morning) He runs his hands through his hair, groggy. Takes a moment to pins it back with his fingers as his free hand wanders to find the bedstand to grab something to fasten back his hair. Be it his ribbon, one of Luca's rubber hair ties (Which his fingers do settle on, but he decides against. He cannot understand how Luca uses those things. Too tight on the head, too much pull on the hair.) and finally- Ah, a clip works well enough.
Deeming himself decent (Well. Realistically, hardly, but decent enough for Luca's presence. He supposed. Actually- Yeah. He was a gift to lay eyes on, and Luca should be grateful to see him in any state less than perfect) he pulls himself up and out of bed.
Luca works in light low enough that the rest of the room runs dim, quiet enough that Edgar has to strain his ears to hear the touch of pencil on paper. He offers Edgar a side eye as he exits the room, a smile too subtle to be sheepish exactly (But Edgar knows better. Asshole.) He has also dressed himself to some state of decency, but his hair is in his face (Getting a bit long now, Edgar notes. If Luca waits any longer to cut it, it might just get to be the length of his own hair) and he's shirtless, and Edgar could roll his eyes. The least he could do is throw on a robe.
"Are you still awake?" Edgar asks, impatience leaking into his voice.
Luca turns his head, smiles, "Well Valden. If I didn't know any better, I think that is a question you could answer with your own eyes!"
Edgar huffs, and rephrases his question, "Why are you still awake."
Shaking his head, Luca gestures to the to the papers in front of him, at a web of sketches and blueprint too complex for Edgar to give a shit about so late into the night.
"Not in the mood to play nice tonight? And, you know, I don't quiet interrupt your painting when-" Edgar gives him another look, crosses his arms and tilts up his nose, "Sorry, sorry. I was looking over this. Something went wrong earlier today. I'm trying to figure out where the issue is. It is weird. Everything looks like it should be in order, but-" He tilts his head, sighs, "When we ran the first few tests, nothing happened. We made some adjustments, and it near exploded on us! I'm trying to figure out where the loose piece could even possibly be."
Ah. Well even he could have guessed it was something like that.
Edgar has a lot of points he could make. That this could very well wait until the morning, when Luca was back in his lab and could work on it away from home. That the map of blueprints, Edgar is almost positive, is technically Lorenz, and if Luca was going to work on something in the comfort of his own home it should at least be one of his own passion projects. But Edgar isn't quite in the mood for an argument, and Luca can be quite stubborn. So instead , Edgar sighs, moving to wrap his arms around Luca from behind. Luca stills under his touch, still somewhat unused to the willingness Edgar offers it to him. But quietly, and without argument, relaxes into it. Good. At some point Luca will come to terms with what their relationship has become, and Edgar hasn't exactly been subtle with his intent.
Edgar sighs, "What time is it?"
Luca makes a show of looking over to the ticking grandfather clock in the corner, grimacing, "Ah. Well, by the looks of it, if my eyes don't deceive me-"
"Luca."
"Three thirty-two in the morning," Luca admits, finally.
"Wrong," He tightens his grip, hard enough to choke. Something that gets a broken laugh, "Too late for you to be running numbers. Get up, you're to come with me, back to bed at once."
"Oh-" Luca pulls away, "I won't be that long, I swear on my family name-"
"Not much to swear on there these days," Edgar points out, bemused. For a moment, something dark shadows across Luca's face at the rather out of pocket joke. It causes discomfort to crawl under Edgar's skin, his eyes to glare at the ground instead of Luca. But then he's laughing something humorless, shaking his head, and;
"Fair enough, fair enough. On my name, then," Luca prompts, sounding a bit displeased. Edgar hums, as he fakes considering it, causing Luca to huff, "My god Edgar, on the Valden family name then! Must you be so particular?"
"Hm. Alright," Edgar says, "So. My counter argument."
"Of course. If you would allow me the pleasure of hearing it-"
Edgar shifts, pulling himself over the chair to straddle the others lap. The motion is quick. Well practiced and easy. He falls into place, rests his hands on Luca's shoulders, stares down at him with an frown. Luca looks over him, paralyzed, breathless, and wide eyed. As though he's just now truly realizing how little Edgar has on. "Ah," Is what he says, the syllable barely a sigh on his lips. For all the time it takes him to accept Edgars arms around his shoulders, the speed to which he takes to this is rather incredible, really. His hands come up to rest on Edgar's hips, he shifts in the chair to adjust for his weight.
"Edgar," He finally breaths, "Bold."
"You've told me I am, yes."
"Is this- A counter argument, or an offer?"
Edgar tilts his head, one way and the other. Blows a few strands of hair out of his face, "Could be both."
Luca laughs again. Leans in to press a kiss against his collar bone, "You know. Perhaps. I may be convinced,"
==
Edgar wakes to the sound of mumbling, and the roll of thunder outside his window. There's rain pounding on the window, loud enough that Edgar might be fooled into thinking it was ocean waves. But the room is warm, and noisy, and when he shoves a pillow over his head it's not because of the fucking rain.
Luca doesn't work in silence anymore.
It's something Edgar noticed the first time he'd come here, but is especially obvious in the dead of night. He giggles and laughs and talks and talks and talks. Talks to himself, walks himself through equations and plans and blueprints and speaks in what might as well be tongues. Edgar has tried figuring out half the garbage that comes from his lips, but it just ends up being as nonsensical as ever.
"You're making too much noise, knock it off," He snaps at Luca, loudly, raising the pillow rather than his head in a way that might just be threatening. He doesn't get a reply immediately, and he almost does throw that pillow at him. But the last time he'd done that, it had broken whatever machine Luca was working on, and quite honestly if it happened again Luca might not actually forgive him. (And it's not that he feels bad about breaking it. Really, good riddance, the thing looked like it was a fire hazard waiting to happen. It's just- uncomfortable. Luca doesn't hide his upset well anymore. Too loose with his tongue. Too easy to read. Yeah. Too.. yeah.)
"Balsa," He calls out again, firm. When the only replay he gets is a giggle, and a mumble, he finds his own voice weakening a bit, "... Luca?"
Again. No reply. Too caught up in what he's doing again to bother looking over. Edgar sighs, and finally pulls himself up to a sit.
Luca is at his work bench, messing with a soldering iron. It leaves a funny smell in the air, something Edgar does well to ignore. Luca's in the same clothing he was in earlier today, which was the same clothing he was in the day prior, and the day prior to that. His hair has been in the the same ponytail for a few days now. He has bags under his eyes and a distant look on his face, and even with the concentrate look on his face, he seems somewhat out of it.
(If he's being honest, which really, would take a miracle and a tall order from hell, seeing Luca like this scares him somewhat. The man has always been something of a workaholic, but it's become something extreme. Something Edgar is acutely aware of.)
He scoffs, "What am I to do with you," Sharp and bitter and tired, Edgar finally pulls himself off the bed. If Luca isn't going to bother with the ceremony of proper dress, neither will he. He doesn't bother to find anything to pull his hair back with, his sleep shirt hangs off him at an awkward angle, some buttons undone from earlier in the night when they'd. Hm.
He takes the small amount of time it takes to approach Luca to roll his sleeves up a bit, so that when he slams his hand on the table it will do well not to catch.
"Hey," He glares down at him. Luca startles enough that the screwdriver he's working with goes flying from his hands, and his shoulders tense up, and he stares at the spot he was working on like it's just burnt him, "You're being noisy again. Knock it off."
"Ah- oh, Edgar. You scared the shit out of me," Luca lights up when he finally realizes he's there, beams at him, laughs nervously, "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep ya up. I must have- y'know, I'm so horrid with time these days. Maybe I just- Lost track of myself," He stumbles over himself momentarily, runs his hands back through his hair. It's sticking up in weird directions again, but Edgar thinks better of it, "I'll be a bit more quiet. Didn't mean to disturb you. Real sorry 'bout that"
If Edgars gaze softens, and if anyone were to ask it is by no means from affection. He's just tired. That's what it must be, he's tired, and he forces whatever soft spot he has for Luca to be locked back away six feet under.
"You'll do no such thing," Edgar crosses his arms, leans against the desk, "What you will be doing is coming back to bed with me. At once," His tone leaves little room for argument. If Luca wants to argue, he will anyway, and he'll do it against someone just as stubborn as he. Luca tips his head back, like he's putting some deep amount of thought into it. Tilts his head back and forth, judges his own state of exhaustion.
"Ah. Fine then, Let me- You know. Let me step out n' grab a smoke from Norton or something, n'clear my head'a all these thoughts n' and I'll be back to bed with ya. How's that for a deal?
Edgar shakes his head, harsh, "If I allow you to wander off you'll just get caught up the rest of the night elsewhere," But he knows better than anyone, that Luca will just sit tossing and turning if he does not. So, "I will join you. If you're to be stubborn like that."
Luca raises an eyebrow at him, sly, makes a show of looking him over. Whistles, and then, "Leaving the room dressed like that? My Edgar, people might just think you're harlot! Able to see your ankles, how could you."
Luca is rather obviously joking, overdramatic hand to his chest and grin to his face, but Edgar flushes at the implication, "Obviously not! You're an unbearable cunt. I would need a moment to dress, but-"
"Edgar, I'm kidding. You look fine," Pauses. Hesitates, "Actually. Let me-" Luca reaches out to button up the ones he's ignored, smooth out the wrinkles and crevices in his nightshirt. It brings his outfit back to modesty, and Edgar huffs at the act, "I hardly doubt anyone will say anything, especially not at-" Luca takes a look over at his wall-clock, always just a few minutes ahead, "Three thirty-five in the morning? It's nothing short of taboo to judge one for their state of undress at this hour!"
"Right," Edgar says, disbelief plaguing his voice.
"Really. I swear I once went down to get myself something to eat at four in the morning, n' found Tracy in the kitchens dressed down to her underwear. I asked her about her indecency, but she's never been one to care. Told me off for even askin'! Can you imagine? And- And not even the next night over, I walked in on Miss Bourbon shirtless! Now, I'm sure we've all seen Demi shirtless at least once before, oh I'm sure you know how she can be- but it was quite a shock at the time! Certainly an interesting introduction to manor life, that was," Luca rambles on as he goes to stand, and Edgar kicks up the nearest pair of pants (Luckily his own) to throw on. Because despite Luca's insistence otherwise, he cannot fathom being comfortable enough with half the manor seeing him pantless. Luca waits by the doorway, doesn't bother with his leg braces for a walk down the hall.
"Hey, Edgar?"
"What," He tries to sound annoyed, as he tucks the edges of his nightshirt into his pants. It makes the whole outfit come across as far too baggy but- Agh. Whatever. If someone mentions it, he'll have some words to say to-
Luca leans over to press a sloppy kiss to the side of his cheek, "Thanks," he says, beams and laughs. Edgar stares ahead of himself for a moment, feels his eye twitch.
"Balsa," He says, glares, wipes off his cheek, "Ugh. Bold."
"Yeah. You've told me I can be. Come on now, I ain't think Norton'll be up all night," And with a sweep of an arm, he pushes the door open for Edgar.