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Marinette’s leg bounced anxiously while she sat there at the table, her elbows on the surface and her chin resting on steepled fingers. She couldn’t believe she’d actually shown up at some restaurant, all on Jagged’s whim that she go out on a blind date with some guy!
One of the reasons she’d gone to New York in the first place was to get away from past romances and embarrassments, but apparently Jagged was an unofficial member of the girls’ club, who strived to hook her up with any guy they deemed acceptable. Penny had also involved herself to support the idea with different reasons, but Marinette found those equally ridiculous.
“Let Jagged have this one, you know he sees you like a daughter,” “Think of it like a fun break from all the work you’ve done,” “It’s bad to get so lost in your passion that you don’t sleep for three days straight,” and so on. She wasn’t obsessed with work, regardless of whatever they might’ve thought; it was just a nice distraction from her general woes.
She supposed it didn’t matter. If whatever guy they were sending didn’t ditch her or walk away after five minutes of conversation, she could easily turn them away all on her own.
After all, she wasn’t exactly dating material.
Checking her phone, Marinette confirmed that it was just about time for the “date” to start. The nerves made her far more alert of the restaurant door just out of the corner of her eye, her head having darted over every time she caught it opening.
It’d been obvious thus far that none were her mystery man. The people who’d come through were either a couple, not a man, or the type of person that Jagged would never send to her. The latter was basically anyone who wore business attire or looked like they hated music and fun.
She started to convince herself that it might be better to leave - that the guy wasn’t coming - when the door opened again and she finally spotted someone who would’ve fit Jagged’s standards, at least visually.
The man was around Jagged’s height, wore distressed pants, and had his hair highlighted in a way that looked very familiar. He scanned the room momentarily until his blue eyes met hers, and she shifted awkwardly at having been caught staring.
Thankfully, he looked unbothered as he turned towards her, making his way over at an easygoing pace. The closer he got, the more she took him in, and she realized that it wasn’t just his hair that looked familiar, but his face too.
Jagged had mentioned once that his hair was natural…
The mystery man had barely gotten to her table - hadn’t even said a word to her - when she pointed and blurted out, “Are you Luka? Jagged’s son?”
His brows rose, lips parting momentarily before becoming a wide grin. “That’s right. It’s nice to finally meet you, Marinette.”
“You know me too?” she asked, stunned for the second time since he’d arrived.
“Dad never stops singing your praises… sometimes literally.” Sliding himself onto the chair across from her, he added, “I just didn’t know it’d be you here, or that he talked about me too.”
She looked him up and down, now that she had a face to put to the name. “Yeah, he does. He kept talking about his son Luka being off in another country while he was on tour, and how he was learning a new instrument or came up with a cool song.”
For what felt like forever, Luka had been a big mystery to her, almost as much as he was to the rest of the world. Prior to working with Jagged at all, Marinette hadn’t known a thing about Luka or that he existed at all, which was impressive in comparison to the rock star known just about everywhere. She almost felt like she was meeting someone from a fairy tale, or a person only spoken of in legends.
A myth man from a fairy tale who happened to be rather handsome as well.
“Sorry, by the way,” he said, resting a forearm on the table and shrugging with his other arm. “I don’t know if Dad thought it’d be a great idea to set this up for me, but it looks like you got roped into it.”
“No–” She paused, shaking her head. “Well, yes, I got roped into it, but no, I don’t know if he did it for you. He might’ve done it for me.”
He chuckled. “I guess we’ll never know then, huh?” Drumming idly with his fingers, he added, “Anyway, he’ll live if nothing happens here, so you don’t have to worry.”
She waved off the notion. “I didn’t really expect anything, so I’m not worried. I was more afraid you’d stand me up.” Then, bringing her hand down and nearly smacking the table, she hurriedly insisted, “Not that I thought you would, since I didn’t know who he’d send!”
He smiled, assuring her, “It’s alright. I was just wondering why you thought nothing would happen. Bad break-ups?”
“That’s…”
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal.”
“It’s not. I’m over anything ‘bad’ there.” She made firm eye contact to show that she was being genuine about it. “It’s me. I’m the problem.”
“You?” Leaning back in his chair, he gestured at her and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
“I—”
Marinette stopped when a waiter approached, seeing as the “party of two” had finally come together. They ordered their drinks and were left with a menu for each of them.
Once they were alone again, she put her folded hands in front of her face, took a breath, then let it out slowly. “I have really unreasonable standards.”
“…Doesn’t everyone?” Luka wondered, underwhelmed by the answer. “I’ve heard enough love songs to know what people expect. Do you want a perfect guy or something?”
“Not exactly.” She shifted her menu back and forth on the table, then glanced at it and had a thought for how to proceed. “Do you cook?”
“Hm?” He put a hand to his chin and looked off to the side. “Sometimes. I’m not that good, but I’ll do it when I’m alone if I have to.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I’m the same way, but it’s because cooking by myself is kind of… lonely? So I want a guy who will cook with me. It doesn’t have to be all the time and he doesn’t have to do the big stuff, I just think it’d be ni—what?”
He cleared his throat, attempting to stifle his giggling behind his hand. Having a hard time maintaining eye contact all of a sudden, he awkwardly apologized, “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, but that isn’t what I was imagining when you said unreasonable standards.”
“I’m serious!” She crossed her arms at him, not getting why he couldn’t see it. “It’s like with sleeping; I need my guy to be okay with not always being the big spoon.”
“Ahuh,” he uttered to tell her he was still listening, though with an amused grin on his face as he rhythmically tapped on his menu.
“And sometimes it’s not about spooning at all.” She spread her arms out, then brought them back in to hug herself. “Sometimes I want to be face-to-face cuddling, you know? It depends on the mood!”
“So you have preferences,” he stated simply.
“No.” Pointing at him, she argued, “I’m making demands that the guy I’m with has to be a certain way or I don’t like him.”
“Alright. What are your other demands?”
Though squinting in confusion at his apparent interest, she was about to continue when the waiter arrived with their drinks: pink lemonade for her and iced tea for Luka. She realized then that they hadn’t actually looked much at the menus, and admitted regretfully to the waiter, “We need another minute.”
Luka raised a hand, adding on, “Can you bring me a glass that just has ice in it too?”
Marinette shot him a curious glance, but he didn’t elaborate and the waiter didn’t ask, merely accepting the minor request and heading off to fulfill it. She figured that Luka might’ve just wanted extra ice or something - he would’ve technically gotten less drink in his cup if he asked for more ice in the drink - so she let it go for the time being and turned her attention to the menu.
“I guess we should actually order something. Jagged said to put it on his card.” She eyed the menu, like the options were in a foreign language. “Have you ever eaten here before?”
“Never,” he admitted. “Why? You don’t know what to order?”
“It all looks good?” She smiled weakly, wondering if the indecisiveness was annoying to him. “It’s hard to pick just one, and I’m not going to order ten different things.”
“What about two?” At her raised brow, he clarified, “We can pick two things we think we’ll like and split them.”
“Huh.” The solution almost sounded too simple. “You’re okay with that?”
He slid his menu over in response, opening it up and rotating it so they could both take a good look. They leaned forward simultaneously, tilting their heads as their hands fell upon opposite sides of it.
They spent the next minute or so debating on menu items, fingertips tracing under words as they discussed their personal tastes. She was pleased to find that his palate was similar enough to hers, briefly making her question if Jagged just liked the same types of people or being around Jagged made for the same types of people.
Regardless of the answer, they decided on two things to split and were ready by the time the waiter returned with Luka’s cup of ice. Marinette waited until their menus were taken away and it was just the two of them, then recalled, “You asked me about my other demands?”
“Mhm~” He put an elbow up on the table, resting his chin on his hand as he appeared to be examining her with his eyes alone. His other hand was at his arm, a finger flicking back and forth across his skin. “Keep going.”
Why was he enjoying this? Did Jagged put him up to it or something?
She tilted her head at him. “Well… talking? I want to make sure we get to talk every day if we can.” Waving off some imaginary response, she added, “It’s not about trust or anything. I just like to know if there’s anything wrong that I can help with, or how his day was, and he can do the same for me.”
“So,” he began, “you want communication?”
“I had a lot of problems with it when I was younger,” she told him, cringing at the memory. “I want to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I wouldn’t want us to misunderstand each other.”
“That makes sense.”
“Oh!” She clenched her fists. “And clothes! He needs to be okay with me making him clothes and accessories!”
He tried to muffle his reaction again, which came in the form of a choking sound. “You’re making it sound like a threat.”
“It is,” she huffed, “so he has to be fine wearing what I make him. I’ll make it work for his style and everything.”
“And that’s all?” he asked to confirm.
“What do you mean is that all?” She rubbed her cheek, thinking over her answer anyway. “But… yeah, those are the important things.”
“Then—” Reaching out for his cup of ice and bringing it closer to himself, he looked at her with a hint of playfulness. “…is it my turn?”
“Your…” She almost jumped in her seat in shock. Given all the impressions she’d gotten of him so far, she never would’ve thought that he’d have his own requirements like she did. “Yeah, sure! I’m curious now.”
She even leaned in to show her interest, hands clasped together on the table. In response, he smirked and pointed at her pink lemonade to ask, “Can I have some of your drink?”
The request made her more intrigued, and she slid her cup over to him with a nod. “Go ahead.”
He brought her drink to one side of his cup of ice, his iced tea on the other side. With careful precision, he brought both drinks up and poured some of both into the cup of ice, which came with a tiny “ooo” from Marinette as the colors blended together.
“I like to share,” he explained, putting his iced tea aside and passing her the other two cups. “If I’m going to have a girlfriend, I want us to be able to bring our lives together like we’re the same string on one guitar. I’d never ask her to learn how to play an instrument or anything, but I’d like it if she tried to understand how I create like I’ll try to understand how she creates.”
“That… sounds really nice though?” she said, staring down at the mixed drink. Picking it up, she tipped it against her lips to take a sip, and the sweet, flowery, tart taste that filled her mouth wound up being delightful. She tried her pink lemonade by itself as well, but it didn’t have the same layers as it did mixed with Luka’s iced tea. “So you want a creative girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” He held his hand out, and she passed him the mixed drink back so he could take a sip too. Looking wholly satisfied by it, he continued, “I might not seem like it, but I give a lot of physical contact with the people I love, so she’ll have to like that.”
She hummed, trying to imagine it, and couldn’t help thinking that whatever girlfriend he’d get would be really lucky. He had a nice voice, so what must it be like for his potential partner to have sweet nothings whispered into her ear while he cuddled her?
“What else?”
Putting the mixed drink down between them, Luka warned her lightly, “You might think it’s weird.”
She pouted. “Try me. It’s only fair since I told you everything I could think of.”
He didn’t bother arguing with her, instead looking pleased that she was so invested. “Well, I want someone who’s going to worry about me. Dad’s not the kind of guy to worry, and my friends didn’t think I was someone to worry about..”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said in defense of him.
He gave her a grateful smile for the support. “It’d be great to talk to her as much as I can too. If she wants to talk about our days or what I’ve been doing, then it just means she cares.”
Marinette nodded vigorously in agreement, wholly onboard with Luka’s so-called “demands” thus far. It was natural to agree, as she’d said the exact same thing a moment ago.
“And you know my dad,” he noted. “He’s picky about people; he usually either loves or hates them. My girlfriend would have to get along with him, so much that he’ll gush about her all day and want her to work with him.”
…wait.
“She has to be the kind of girl I want to write songs about, where her song’ll be stuck in my head all day long.”
Her wide eyes darted down towards his hands, recalling the movements his fingers had made over the course of their time together, that she’d previously passed off as something idle. “Luka…”
“I guess I get it from my dad, because I feel a lot even if I don’t always show it. I don’t have a lot of people I’m close to, but I know people, and I can get a read on them after talking to them for a little while.” The corners of his eyes creased up in sincerity. “So if she thinks she’s being unreasonable by wanting time together, wanting us to talk about how we feel, and wanting to dress me up, I don’t have a problem with it if I like her enough.”
“B-buh—” she stammered out, blushing in both shyness at his words and embarrassment at how obvious it should’ve been why he was entertained by her own wants. “You… why? You showed up not knowing who’d be here.”
He answered easily, “Because I only knew about you from my dad, that he liked you and you were talented. I had to see you for myself to know if I was interested or not, and I wasn’t interested in anyone else until I got here.”
For a family with the last name Stone, their emotions sure did move fast, yet Marinette couldn’t say she minded it. Luka, just like his dad and despite their obvious personality differences, didn’t beat around the bush, preferring what was either brazenness or directness based on how someone interpreted it. It was so far removed from what she was used to, which went from guys who were only outright with their feelings because they thought she wouldn’t refuse, all the way to guys who kept expecting her to pick up on their vague hints that they were interested in her.
Luka made it clear he wasn’t expecting anything as he stood up from his chair, assuring her, “It’s alright if it’s too much. I know you wanted to get this over and done with, so if you want me to leave—”
“No!” She reached out and snagged one of his hands with both of hers, looking up at him in what was almost offense. “You can’t! Not after you went and said that! Besides, I'm—”
Swallowing, she turned her head away, but wasn’t willing to let go of his hand. She had no idea what she was doing, but felt she’d regret it if she released him.
“I’m too much too, so shouldn’t we at least be too much together?”
His brows arched in a mixture of surprise and delight. Bringing his other hand up to place them over her two, he asked, “What did you have in mind?”
“…I don’t know?” She gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged. “Remember, I didn’t think I was going to get this far.”
He glanced at his chair, and now she could see the way his eyes brightened when he was looking at her. “How much do you care about what people see?”
“You mean PDA?” She blinked, then scoffed at the thought, one hand moving to brush at his bracelets like she was physically dusting away the idea. “Oh, I stopped caring about that a long time ago.”
“Then can you move over?”
She watched him curiously, puzzled by the question as he went over to his chair. He grabbed the back of it but, rather than sitting down, he pulled it away from the table and gave it a little spin until it faced the way hers was facing.
The realization hit her just as much as the laugh that threatened to follow. The absurdity, however, didn’t stop her from sliding herself to the side, the table just wide enough for their chairs to fit side-by-side if pushed together.
“Are you actually going to cuddle me here?” she asked in disbelief, though unable to stop smiling.
Sitting next to her, he replied nonchalantly, “We can do whatever you want. I don’t think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried.”
That sounded like a challenge. She eyed him, noting his relaxed posture, his half-lidded eyes, and the slight wetness of his lips from the mixed drink they’d shared.
Nevertheless skeptical of his claim, she experimentally touched his arm, then went higher until her hand was at his shoulder. He didn’t flinch or recoil at the contact, and in fact turned his upper body to give her the easiest access he could given their current positions.
It was as if he was giving himself to her as a present. It was ridiculous, it was insane, it was… refreshing.
Her other hand went against his chest, which was firm without being outright bulky. Her narrowed gaze kept on his face, but there weren’t any oddities there that she could detect; at best, he was amused by her testing.
Her fingers glided onto and up his neck, which got a reaction out of him without it being a negative one: his eyes had shut, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he exhaled. It drew her attention back to his lips, where he was trying to suppress a goofy smile.
After the craziness that was her life up to this point, she had very little remaining of the rational part of her mind. After a mental debate with it that was more for formality than anything else, she threw all caution aside and took Luka’s face in her hands.
If he wanted to be tested, then she would happily oblige him.
With mild difficulty due to his lack of preparedness and the cramped space they were in, Marinette kissed him. He didn’t even freeze, a happy noise escaping him as he tried to pull her further in like she wasn’t already glued to his side. She swung a leg over his lap, thinking that might make it easier, and while she couldn’t say if it worked or not, it definitely added something to the experience.
He was gentle without treating her as though she were glass. It was more comparable to something new someone had gotten - been waiting a long time for, maybe didn’t even know they wanted - and they wanted to cherish it. She didn’t know where he’d gotten such gentlemanly manners from, but there was plenty of time to ask and learn about it.
Neither of them broke the kiss until they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat in their general direction. Marinette pulled back, having to blink a few times to get herself out of her haze, and saw the waiter standing there with their meals on a tray.
“Oh.” She met Luka’s gaze, which refused to leave her, then told the waiter, “You can just leave those there. We don’t need anything else.”
Not paid anywhere near enough to deal with the situation at hand, the waiter shrugged and went about setting their respective plates down on the table. Since consideration was given so that their food was comfortably within their reach, it left half the table looking overfilled and the other half seeming empty.
With a giggle, Marinette wrapped her arms around who was apparently her boyfriend now (boyfriend!) and joked, “I can’t believe Jagged got his order before we did.”
Luka dropped his face against her shoulder and laughed. It was the prettiest thing she’d ever heard and she hoped she’d be hearing it for a long time.