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Luka has a crush. A big one. A big huge mountain-sized crush.
And he will not, for the life of him, tell her who it is.
But Marinette will find out. Even if she has to weasel it out of him. Even if she has to squirm her way right in front of his face and spell it out for him that he has to have a crush on someone, because the way he’s acting isn’t the way he always acts.
Right? Like, this isn’t normal behavior. This fondness he has on his face as he makes things isn’t normal.
Right?
Right?
She knows him. She’s known him ever since she was born, and in these twenty-four years, she knows that Luka isn’t food-motivated. Not like her.
Sure, Luka’s interested in food as much as the next alpha, and at some point everyone, regardless of designation, dips their toes into cooking or baking. Even if it’s minor. As adults, it’s expected for people to have one solid dish they know how to make without thinking. That’s normal.
Since he spends so much time here in the bakery, she assumed at some point he’d have an actual interest in some of it just to pass the time. Maybe he’d experiment. Attempt to pipe out a cake in a new fashion. Come up with new desserts just for the hell of it. Learn how to make her coffee that she adores so he can see that it’s not exactly about the taste that is her favorite, but rather the experience of making it. The glass straw is one of her favorite things she’s ever seen.
He steals her iced coffee nearly every day she finds him at the bakery even though he doesn’t actually work here. He just shows up. Almost every time she has a shift, she finds those doors jingling before the bakery actually opens because he’s had a key to the bakery since he was old enough to have a keyring. His work attendance is better than hers, and she’s the one who actually works here. Just as she’s about to take her first sips of her blessed coffee she’s made herself, he steals the first few sips, always a complaint following it about how there’s too much sugar and she’s going to have a headache later on.
She never listens. And then whines later on when her head is trying to cleave in two. He never says I told you so, though he probably should.
Regardless, he’s got the makings of a good baker, as lame as that possibly sounds. How could she ever doubt it? Those strong arms of an alpha that can pull those industrial-sized paddles out of the mixer with ease, and it’s been a while since she’s seen him wary of the cages that make sure no spare fingers make their way and get caught in the machine. She doesn’t need to instruct him on how to roll out dough but she finds herself doing it anyway, at his elbows and rolling out with him even though there’s no need. She can always go do something else. Something more productive. There are so many things to do around the bakery but she never really finds a reason to go do them unless they’re in the same room as him.
She trusts him in here. He’s good at what he does. So theoretically, it would make sense that after all of this time, he would find himself interested in making food… but this is a little bit too much.
It bothers her to see him smile so often. It bothers her and gets into her skin, feeling antsy and small, seeing her best friend smile about something she doesn’t know. She feels left out from the joke. Like she’s missing part of the conversation. Like Luka’s been hiding something from her, trying to keep this crush a secret, like they’re fourteen instead of in their twenties. Insecurity comes as a badge of honor for omegas apparently, because the shame and the twitchiness feels normal on her skin even if she wants out.
“You’ve been baking a lot more,” Marinette mumbles out around her croissant he’d brought in so she could sample it and tell him if it needed work. Sitting in the bakery pantry about half an hour before the store opens, the two of them usually have breakfast together. It’s a narrow dodge to miss that giant hand of his trying to shove another piece of bread into her mouth to make her stop talking with such a mouthful. Another flick of her thumb finds her at a new video he posted onto his account, showing how he made the very batch of croissants she’s eating. “What’s going on, Luka?”
The comments section are filled with the same comments over and over again.
If only I knew an alpha that could take care of me the way he takes care of his baked goods…
Look at that smile on his face! Just looking at it will start my heat cycle early!
I’m a beta and I think I finally understand what omegas talk about.
Sploosh.
Thank god Luka’s looking away from her as she scowls, debating on blocking every single one of the commenters that make her twitchy. He’s busy looking for a rag to wipe his hands clean with. “Nothing’s been going on. I’ve just been needing something to do with my hands.”
“Playing the guitar?”
“Too easy. I need something that actually took brain power.”
Last night he posted a video of him making spaghetti, which she’d watched over and over again until she’d fallen asleep. Throughout the month he’s been getting bolder and bolder; just this week he’s made cheesecake, pancakes, waffles, brownies and christmas cookies for the holidays. After a week full of sugary delights she had the honor and blessing of eating— ha ha, fuckers, none of those commentors know that he shared his desserts with his best friend!— he’s finally starting to branch into making actual meals, including his favorite tofu recipe; not to mention gimbap, kimchi, all those pork buns…
Posting videos of the cooking process on his social media account. They blow up constantly. Every single time Marinette has come across it, she’s watched, enraptured, at the muscle in his arms and that smile on his face as he makes it from scratch. That’s the smile of a man in love, and she knows it, because that’s the smile he makes when he’s playing his guitar on stage and he’s getting thongs slingshot onto the stage for him. That’s the smile he makes when she sends him a meme and his face gets all dopey. That’s the smile he makes when…
“Are you trying to impress a girl, or something?” she blurts out.
“As if,” he snorts. “Since when was cooking the way to a girl’s heart, Kitty?”
“Since forever.” Another bite. It’s delicious; light and buttery and the crunchy noise it gives would make her ears flicker up and down in delight if she were really a cat. He sends her the memes. Cute little cats and kittens, with twitchy ears whenever they eat and move their jaw. He always mentions that’s exactly how she looks whenever she eats something she likes, and although she doesn’t actually have cat ears, she does express her joy by humming as she eats, so oohhhh yeah. That’s the spot. Mmmm. “At least, it is for me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” she moans out. “This is really good, Luka.”
He perks up. “Thanks, Kitty. That means a lot, especially since it’s coming from you.”
Happiness leaks down her spine, reminding her of silk against her skin. The more she eats, the more Luka looks excited to see her finish, which makes her want to eat even more, which surely can’t be healthy for either of them. He can finish the tray by himself no problem; she knows because he’s done it before. Their size disparity is nearly obscene, and he eats like a giant just to prove the point about his height. Where he’s tall, she’s short. Where his shoulders are wide, she’s narrow. The only thing she has going for her are her hips and thighs, large enough to put anyone to shame.
An omega with child-bearing hips. Who would’ve thought?
“So who’s the girl you’re trying to impress?”
“I’m not doing this for any particular reason.”
“Bullshit,” she mumbles. He hand-feeds her another piece just to shut her up, and she pretends to bite his fingers when he strays too close. “Don’t pretend like you don’t get all those thirsty comments every time you post a video about making the food! Are you fishing for a bigger audience, or something? A marketing strategy?”
Humor dances along those pretty blue eyes as he crosses his arms on his chest. “No.”
“New album going to be called ‘Bed and Breakfast’?” She accompanies the question with a furious wiggling of the brows, just to prove her point.
He barks out a laugh. “Good one. I like that. Why are you always so good at making jokes like this?” And then, as if he doesn’t notice her getting excited by his praise, “I should probably write that down.”
“The entire plan of this new cooking series is to convince people to buy your next album,” she tells him as he pulls out his phone. She sees the necessary swipes he goes through to get his phone to recognize his face, and then pull up his notes app. Furious scrolling because the man doesn’t seem to sort through his thoughts by using various allocated notepads, deciding to stuff it all into one giant note that causes her grief every time she sees the created date, all she can afford to do is purse her lips when she looks for another croissant and finds them too far away. “What’s good about this campaign is that you’re advertising your album, you’re thirst trapping by showing off your arms, and you’re learning how to cook. And maybe even impressing someone with your cooking skills.”
He looks up. “You like my arms?”
“What?”
“You said I’m thirst trapping.”
“There’s no real reason for you to wear compression shirts while making a beignet unless you’re trying to show off.”
“I have to eat after going to the gym.”
“A likely story, Hercules,” she teases.
A blush makes it across his face. “I’m not trying to impress someone with this.”
“Oh yeah? I sniff a lie there.”
“I don’t lie.”
Here we go. There’s a hesitation on his face, and that’s all she needs. Once she finds a spider’s thread of a lie, she’s quick to pull. And he knows, because as soon as she asks: “What’s their name? How tall are they?” Luka is already raising a brow and flattening his face like he always does when she teases him.
“Nope.”
“Color of eyes?” she lobbies.
“I’m not playing this game with you.”
“What’s her name?”
“You’re so certain she’s a girl? I could be gay.”
“You’re not. You’re bisexual at the very least because I’ve seen your porn collection you think you hide pretty well under your bed. You’ve got men and women in your cattalogue.” She flicks a crumb at him, ignoring his protests. Even his shaggy hair fluffs up at the accusation, a pink flush dusting his cheeks. “Stop deflecting. I don’t know why it’s a girl but I have a hunch.”
“I—”
“Mmm?”
“You went through my porn collection?”
“I check up on it from time to time to see if you’ve made bolder choices.”
“You ass,” he groans.
“There’s no point in trying to throw some curveballs in there the next time, I think I’m aware of your favorites. Interesting that you have a thing for kemonomimi but we’ll talk about it later. You haven’t moved that first comic from the top of the stack in a few weeks, I’m pretty sure, and I do have questions about your preferences.” When he says nothing but scrunch his nose at her, she gives him a convincing smile. “Can you show me a picture of her? The girl you like?”
Luka stills. Looking her over. Trying to call her bluff. And then decides to play along, apparently, because he opens his phone again with his facial recognition. Uncharacteristically silent as he swipes through his phone, she keeps stuffing her mouth with croissant as he no doubt looks for a picture. She tries not to frown, realizing that there might actually be someone out there that Luka’s interested in. That he… cares about.
Uh oh.
Uh oh.
She fucked up.
At once, she can feel anxiety starting to form. He’s actually interested in someone? There’s someone out there that makes him smile; that makes him want to make food for them? He’s practicing how to make food in order to impress? This has to be a joke; a ruse, hopefully, because there’s no way. Luka’s been single for as long as she’s been single, which is since the dawn of time, and it’s not like he could hide it from her. The two of them have been inseparable since she was born and her, Juleka, and Luka had playdates together, and it’s only now when she’s twenty four she finds out that he’s been crushing on someone this whole time?
“Yeah, I’ll show you her,” Luka mumbles.
“Is she cute?” she tries, instead of giving in to that crawling feeling that asks her to shift around in her seat. Something is starting to plummet in her stomach. She doesn’t really feel hungry anymore. She feels anxiety, dread, like a caged animal waiting for their doom— that phone of his is the ticket to a mental breakdown at seven in the morning. If she’s polluting the air with anxiety, Luka says nothing but raise his massive shoulders, giving her a quick glance before peering back at his phone.
“Mmmm. I’d say so, yeah. When she doesn’t hide behind braids and ponytails because she’s too lazy to do her hair.”
“Any hobbies?”
“Some.”
“Cryptic.”
“She likes annoying me.”
“I agree with her. You’re far too easy to annoy, it’s definitely my favorite hobby.” Maybe they could bond together about their mutual love for making Luka’s life lovingly miserable. Though it doesn’t seem like something she actually wants to share, because the thought is so sour in her mouth. “Where’d you meet her?”
“Long story. You’d get bored hearing about it, honestly, so I’ll save you the time.”
“Do I…” she licks her lips. “Do I know her?”
That smile comes back, rather small. Something about it is comforting enough to ease her feelings. “See for yourself, Kitty.”
He turns the phone around to face her.
It’s the phone app, set on selfie mode.
She’s looking at herself.
She drops the croissant on her plate and eeps.