Chapter Text
Luka sat sprawled across the ragged couch on his family’s houseboat, with Marinette plunked happily on his lap, scrolling through her phone. She snorted quietly at something she read before shutting off her phone and glancing up at him.
“Hey, Luka,”
“Hm?”
“We should get married.”
He blinked at her, waiting for her to explain what the fuck that was about. She just looked back at him silently, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.
“Mari we’re- we’re both gay.” He reminded her, staring at the woman as if she had lost her mind.
“Yes but I just read that if you invite famous rich people to your wedding, they won’t come obviously, but their assistants usually send you a gift. So, we send fake wedding invitations to rich people and then we get free gifts,” she schemed happily.
“That’s actually the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Luka told her with a bewildered expression.”
“Is that a yes?” Marinette asked, undeterred.
“Fucking obviously,” he confirmed, “I want free stuff.”
“Okay, which rich asshole do you want free stuff from?”
“Oh, so I get to pick one for our fake wedding?”
Marinette bobbed her head.
He tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “Jagged Stone”
Marinette laughed, “No, dude, you can’t pick Jagged he’ll actually show up.”
“Shit, you’re right.” Luka thought for a moment, “You know Tsrugi car company, the one that made that purple car for Jagged’s last music video?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to invite the CEO of that company.”
“And that is…” Marinette questioned.
“Man I don’t know,” Luka said, whipping out his phone and googling it. “Tomoe Tsrugi.”
“Alrighty!” Marinette giggled, typing the name in the notes section of her phone.
“Which rich person are you going to con?” Luka asked.
“Oh easy, Gabriel Agreste- my favorite fashion designer.”
“Oh, of course, I should have guessed,” he said, ruffling her black hair affectionately.
She stuck her tongue out at him before typing something furiously into her phone. “Okay I ordered the two-” she sputtered before laughing, “-two fake wedding invitations for the marriage of a gay man and a bisexual woman.”
“As all good marriages begin,” he snorted.
“As they do,” Marinette giggled.
**************
They sent out the invitations claiming the wedding was in a week at the houseboat.
For two days they didn’t receive anything. It made sense, these were rich people who probably had way more official correspondence to take care of. Hell, even their multitudes of assistants probably had more vital stuff going on. Still, Luka felt pangs of disappointment for each day that passed without update.
Then, on day three Marinette came jetting into his room, practically toppling him over, clutching two professionally addressed envelopes.
“Oh my god,” Luka said reading the return addresses.
“I know right!” Marinette gushed with sparkling eyes.
“Have you opened them yet?” He asked guiding her to his unmade bed.
She sat down on his guitar patterned sheets (he really needed to buy new sheets, he’d had those since he was twelve). “Nope, I wanted you to open them with me.”
“Badass,” He replied, holding out his hand for an envelope. She handed him the one addressed from Tsrugi Corporate Office. He tore it open and pulled out the RSVP card they included with the invitations, just to sell the lie. They didn’t expect them to be used. A neat checkmark sat in the “accepts invitation” box. He paled. His eyes fell to the “number of guests attending” blank. A nondescript two sat on the line, with the names “Tomoe Tsrugi” and “Kagami Tsrugi” written underneath. Luka felt his heart stop.
He looked up to see Marinette equally as rattled. “They’re coming,” she whispered in horror. “They accepted the invitation.”
“How many?” he asked in hoarse panic.
“Four.”
“Shit. Mine accepted too.”
“How many?” Marinette squeaked.
“Two.”
“FUCK!” Marinette cried, burying her face in a pillow. She let out a muffled scream.
Luka’s whole body felt numb with horror. “What do we do?” he asked in as calm a voice she could muster.
Marinette lifted her face from the pillow. “We either, pretend the wedding has been canceled or tell them it was fake, ruining my reputation with an influential man in my chosen career field thereby fucking over my chances of ever getting a job for his company, or throw together a fake wedding in-” she thought for a second, “-three days, so I can potentially not screw over my career in the fashion industry and also meet my idol.”
“You’re really hoping for the second option aren’t you?”
“Please…”
“Okay, so we have three days to fake get married.” Luka sighed.
“Marinette gave a relieved smile. “Yeah, okay-” her eyes sharpened in Marinette patented determination “-so since we said we’re having it here we’ll have to tell your mom.”
“Oh she’ll love that,” Luka groaned.
“She really will,” Marinette giggled, “Actually I’d be surprised if your mom hasn’t planned a fake wedding before.”
“My mom has probably planned multiple, let’s be real.”
“I have planned multiple of what?” asked a voice from the doorway. His mom stood in the hallway, several instrument cases balanced in her arms.
“Will you let us use the houseboat to get fake married so we can get gifts from famous rich people?” Marinette asked hurriedly, without answering the question.
The older woman nodded sagely. “That’ll be three fake weddings I’ve helped plan. I’m basically an expert.”
“Told you,” Luka stated matter-of-factly.
**************
They split up the wedding into a few main objectives: the food/cake, the decorations, the guests, and the dress.
“Alrighty mateys here’s the plan,” his Mom drilled with the casual know-how of someone who planned fake weddings all the damn time. Casual Tuesdays. “Marinette, you’ll handle your dress, and see if you can rope your parents into helping with the food and cake. If not, I once dated a caterer who I have blackmail material on who we can use instead.”
Marinette looked unfazed by the information, “Yes ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” the woman asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes Captain,” Marinette corrected, raising a hand to her brow in salute. Or maybe to block out the glare of sunlight streaked across her face. They really needed umbrellas on the deck.
“Luka, you and I will handle decorating the boat and inviting the guests,” she told him. “We’ll have to keep it classy but cheap as hell. And when we invite the guests we’ve gotta make sure they can sell the fake marriage. We’ll need a backstory of how you guys met and got together, and get some fake bridesmaids and groomsmen.”
“Who’ll ‘officiate’?”
“Me, I’ll pretend I have the license or whatever it is you need to marry people and practice leading y’all through the vows. Any more questions?”
“No, Captain,” the two young adults said in unison.
His mother eyed them. “You kids ready to get married.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Literally not at all.”
She laughed, “Well then it’s a good thing it’s fake. Now let’s get to work!”