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Luka Couffaine never really bothered to know who his father was.
Yes, it meant the lack of ‘manly’ presence in his life (some people might even call him too ‘soft’ because he was surrounded by women for most of his life. Ha! As if. They had no idea what it was like living with his mom. It took guts) but he never really cared.
But, of course, his father had to be Bruce effing Wayne.
Like seriously, how the f*ck did his mom even manage to meet him?
“Hey mom,” Luka called as he walked onto the Liberty.
Anarka turned around. “Luka, my boy! C’mere and help me load up these boxes-”
Luka knew if he didn’t stop her, she’d have a full list of things she needed him to do. Interrupting her, he asked, “Mom, could you tell me who my dad was?”
His mom paused. Odd for her, thought Luka. “Now, why would ya want to know that?” she avoided carefully.
Was she…was Anarka Couffaine nervous?
Luke sensed the change in her melody as soon as he asked the question. Despite that, he answered her. “I need it for a school project. We have to make our family tree.”
“Ah,” That did not seem to make her any calmer. “Luka, I think you should come and sit down for this. It’s going to come as a shock.”
Wondering who his father could be to have such an influence on his mother, Luke joked, “Why? Is it Jagged Stone or something?”
“Nah, my lad,” Anarka said, rolling her eyes at the mention of the rock star. “It’s Bruce Wayne.”
Luka stopped and stared at her. “What.”
“You really should have sat down,” sighed Anarka. “Lad, your father is Bruce Wayne.”
Luka tripped into the Seine.
Luka shivered as he wrapped himself into the towel.
The cold air was biting into his skin harder than usual because of his hot-to-the-max shower.
Because like why not?
It’s not like his father was one of the richest people on the planet or something.
Walking on the deck of the Liberty, Luka wasn’t surprised to see his mom sitting on one of the chairs – the ones that existed before he was around.
She sighed in relief when she saw him. “My god, Luka. Don’t ever do that again!” she very-nearly-bellowed.
“Sorry, mom,” Luka said sheepishly.
“Anyway,” said Anarka, calming down, “I’m sure you have some questions to ask. I have 5 minutes, so ask away!”
And she was back, Luka thought.
**
Fifteen minutes later, Luka was staring at the chair he was sitting on with suspicion.
Had his father – billionaire father – sat on this? He thought, not at all hysterically.
Right, Luka inhaled – trying to calm down, time to meditate. There was no better time than now.
And so, he proceeded to meditate as intensely as possible.
**
His (relative) calm was interrupted by Juleka’s quiet voice. “Woah, dude. What’s gotten you so wound up?”
Opening his eyes slowly, Luka wished his meditation had more of an effect. It had done very little to relax him and his increasingly hysterical thoughts. “I found out who my father was.”
Juleka was immediately by his side (Luka couldn’t help but smile fondly at her), “Are you fine? Is he a dick? Do I need to muder him?”
He laughed for the first time since he found out. Not the hysterical one, no, a genuine one. “N-no, it’s nothing like that-”
Luka paused to catch his breath, while Juleka continued to look at him with confusion.
“My father is Bruce Wayne.”
“What?”
Luka winced at the high-pitched screech his sister let out. “Jesus Christ, Jules. Tone it down a little.”
“Tone it down a little?” she screeched – in an admittedly softer pitch. “Are you insane? Your father is Bruce f*cking Wayne!”
She proceeded to screech out a fair amount of swear words (Where had mom even learnt these words? Was it another result of his father?) – none of which he would like to repeat. (Your ears don’t need to be scarred by that)
When Juleka calmed down, she said, “How are you faring? Like isn’t it a-”
“Shock?” Luka finished. “Yeah, yeah it is. Actually, when mom told me, I fell into the Seine.”
She didn’t look too surprised. “I figured that’s why you smell like garbage.”
Luka shoved her, finally feeling the first semblance of normal in his life. Not that he felt any less hysterical.
**
Two minutes later, Luka was cycling to the Dupain-Cheng bakery because if there was one person he could trust – it was Marinette.
“Bonjour Mdm. Cheng,” he said politely as the bell rang.
Mdm. Cheng beamed at him. “Salut Luka. And how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Sabine,” she scolded lightly, wagging her finger.
Chuckling, Luka gestured to Marinette’s room. “Is Marinette there?”
“Yes,” said Sabine, handing him a plate of mouth-watering pastries. “Give this to her, will you? You can have some too.”
Nodding, Luka accepted the plate. “Merci.”
Knocking softly on Marinette’s trapdoor, he called out, “Marinette? Can I come in?”
Almost immediately, the door flung open and Marinette came tumbling out, yelping.
“Oomph-” Luka managed to catch Marinette and keep the plate of pastries safe in an amazing feat of acrobatics.
“Oh, my kw-gosh, Luka,” Marinette apologized frantically. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to – I was opening the trapdoor and I tripped over some fabric and-”
“It’s alright, Marinette,” Luka said, chuckling. “I brought some food, though?”
Marinette’s eyes lit up as she dragged him up. Once they were settled down comfortably, Luka decided to reveal his reason for being there. “So, I have something to tell you…”
“What is it?” Marinette asked, sensing his uncharacteristic nervousness.
“I asked mom who my father was,” he admitted quietly and rushed on. “Bruce Wayne.”
Luka expected Marinette to scream like Juleka, or choke on her pastry or do something marinette-y.
He didn’t expect her to just continue eating calmly. “So?” she asked completely oblivious.
Blinking, Luka rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “You don’t know who Bruce Wayne is?”
Then she paused. “Should I?”
Luka tackled her into a hug, completely ignoring her abandoned pastry. He didn’t realize how much he needed someone to act like it was normal to have Bruce fu*king Wayne as your father until Marinette actually did it.
Burying his face into her shoulder, Luka continued to mumble, “Thankyouthankyouthank-”
“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Marinette said, her voice a little squeezed, “But you’re squashing me,”
Immediately, Luka got off her, “I’m so sorry, I was just so happy-”
“Woah, Luka, chill,” Marinette placated him, rubbing her small palms over his arms. “It’s totally fine. But, seriously,” She looked at him. “Tell me if I should know who he is.”
**
A few minutes later, a high-pitched shriek (Luka was surprised his eardrums hadn’t burst between Juleak and Marinette) bringing Marinette’s parents sprinting to her room, Marinette was assuring them, “I’m fine, Maman, Papa, Luka just told me some…surprising-” Understatement of the year. “-news.”
After they left, Marinette turned to him, calmer than she was before. “Wow, Luka. I can’t believe it. How do you feel?”
See, ladies and gentlemen, this is why he went to Marinette. Any other person Luka would have told would be raving about how ‘lucky he was’ and all that rubbish.
Marinette, on the other hand, actually cared for him and asked how he felt.
Sighing, Luka ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I…honestly, don’t know. I tried playing the guitar but my mind keeps on wandering off and meditation didn’t really help much.”
Marinette frowned at him. “Maybe you just need to talk to someone?” she offered. “Like, I know you don’t usually do that, but it wouldn’t hurt?”
Luka contemplated the idea. Talking to someone…he hadn’t really done that before. Usually, he just relied on his guitar and meditation. “All right,” he said finally, “Would you mind if I could tell you?”
His host beamed at him. “I’d be honored to.”
**
30 minutes later, Luka was feeling much less hysterical than before (he was pretty sure he had broken a record for how hysterical a person could be) and was getting up to go home.
“Thanks, Marinette,” he said, genuinely. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”
Marinette blushed and smiled at him shyly and Luka’s heart swelled. “It was the least I could do, especially after everything you’ve done for me,” she said honestly.
And that’s when Luka realized he loved this girl more than anything in the world. This girl was the wondrous Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the ultimate example of a literal angel – kind, sweet, beautiful and just overall amazing.
So, he kissed her cheek softly. “Thank you,”
And as he cycled back to the Liberty, Luka couldn’t get rid of the dumb smile on his face.
2 months later…
Luka shuffled his nervously as he stood outside the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.
Somehow – how, he would never know – his father had found out he existed and insisted Luka come to visit him in Gotham.
Bruce Wayne also insisted (to Anarka) that he bring a friend of his so he wouldn’t be too overwhelmed.
That was how Luka found himself in his current predicament. He would like to invite Marinette but a) he wasn’t sure she would agree and b) she wasn’t exactly a friend to him anymore, was she?
Steeling himself (because this…pussy was not that Luka Couffaine that Anarka raised), he walked into the bakery – albeit a little reluctantly.
“Bonsoir, Tom,” Luka said lightly. “Would you mind if I went to talk to Marinette?”
Tom, jovial as always, beckoned him upstairs. “Of course not. Go on.”
He shooed Luka up the stairs.
Now was the time.
Luka knocked lightly and walked inside, only to find Marinette designing a new dress by the looks of it (and biting her lips in a way he wanted to kiss her).
Cautiously – because he knew how jumpy Marinette got while designing – he said, “Marinette?”
She jumped violently. “Luka!” she said, putting a hand over her heart. “You scared me!”
“Sorry,” he said. “I just came to see you,”
Marinette looked around her room and made space for him on her chaise. “So, how has it been?”
Luka knew what she was referring to. His father. “Actually, something has happened.”
Her eyes brightened with curiosity. “What?”
“He asked me to come to Gotham and bring a friend.” Luka said, slowly and clearly, his heart beating faster than normal the whole time.
Gaping at him, Marinette asked, “And you want that friend to be me?” Her voice trailed off into a high-pitched squeak.
“Yes?” It sounded more of a question than a statement.
Suddenly, Luka was thrown backwards by a mini-blue-haired tornado tackling him. Squealing, Marinette said, “Yes, yes, yes! I’d love to.”
**
Marinette was panicking. Luka could see it and feel it.
The two of them were currently waiting for their baggage to come through and her breathing was getting faster and unevener by the second. “Breathe, Marinette,” he rubbed his calloused fingers over her wrist.
She slowed down almost immediately. “I’m fine,” she puffed, “I’m fine. Are you nervous?” she asked as they collected their baggage.
Luka thought about his answer carefully. “Yes,” he said finally, “I am because I’m worried – what if he doesn’t like me? Or what if my adopted..siblings don’t like me?”
Marinette wrapped her small arms around him. “Luka,” she said firmly. “Anyone who doesn’t like you, doesn’t deserve you. It’s as simple as that. And anyway, this is just a trial meeting. If you want to meet him again – you can. If you don’t – just don’t.”
Luka breathed a little easier.
As they walked outside, into the chilly parking, a kindly voice asked, “Would you happen to be Mr. Couffaine and Ms. Dupain-Cheng?”
Luka turned around to see an elegant, aged man smiling at them. Nodding numbly, he said, “Are you Mssr. Alfred Pennyworth?” Just to be sure.
The man’s smile grew even kindlier and Luka felt a little more at ease. “That is me,” he agreed. “Come, here is the car.”
The car, was a limousine.
Luka’s eyes widened when he saw the size of it.
“It’s big, isn’t it?” chuckled Mr. Pennyworth.
“Big is an understatement,” Luka breathed.
Opening their doors, Mr. Pennyworth said, “Come in.”
**
Luka gawked at the sheer size and elegance of Wayne Manor.
“Oh my-” Marinette’s jaw dropped.
However, all that surprise disappeared once the nerves surfaced in his stomach. He was going to meet the rest of his family.
Marinette squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
Luka chose to believe her.
**
Till now, Luka could say everything had gone…fine.
He had been staying at Wayne Manor for a few days now and Luka could safely say he got along with everyone in his family just fine.
Including Damian – his younger brother.
Apparently, that was a feat of some sort.
“Luka,” yelled Jason, one of the unruly ones. “Tell Damian to give me back my slippers!”
He had also learned that the family was extremely chaotic.
Currently, Damian was running away with Jason’s (Luka snorted when he saw them) fluffy slippers.
“Master Damian,” Alfred to the rescue! “I suggest you give Master Jason his slippers back as you are required for breakfast soon.”
Damian, grumbling, dropped the slippers of the staircase and ran off.
**
At breakfast, today’s discussion was apparently how to deal with emotional employees at WE.
Yesterdays had been knives which included a heated debate (with knives) between Damian and Jason.
Dick snorted when he saw Bruce’s state at the head of the table. “Poor Bruce,” he said, “You look exhausted.”
“You would be,” muttered Bruce irritably pouring some coffee. “I cannot deal with emotional people.”
Now, that was a surprise.
“Why?” Luka asked curiously and almost everyone turned to stare at him. He wasn’t uncomfortable (Luka had played gigs before) but it was little unnerving. He didn’t say much at the table.
Tim, picking at his food, said, “Bruce Wayne is the most emotionally stunted man you’ll ever meet. As a result, all of his children are too.”
Luka blinked. Because like what the f*ck?
According to most, Luka was one of the most emotionally-tuned people they had ever met.
Marinette snorted and at once everyone’s eyes snapped to her. “Evidently, not all of his children,” she smirked at Luka (he melted on the spot), “Because Luka is one of the most emotionally-tuned people I have ever had contact with.”
Everyone, once again, snapped their eyes to him (seriously, didn’t their heads hurt?). Shifting, Luka decided to elaborate a little, “I use my guitar. And I meditate a lot.”
**
And that’s how Luka found himself teaching meditation to every single person in the family.
He could use a lot of words to describe this family (or phrases) – not at all what he thought they would be like, chaotic, crazy, draining.
They were all of these words.
But Luka Couffaine Wayne liked it.