Work Text:
Luke's freckles were easy to miss to the average person. They were faint enough that they disappeared beneath warm indoor lighting, only really becoming visible when sunlight settled across his face. A sparse scattering crossed the bridge of his nose, and dotted on his cheeks. There weren't many.
Callum noticed them, though. Of course he did.
He also noticed, and liked, Luke's dimples, which were considerably harder to miss whenever Luke smiled. There were two of them, one on each cheek, appearing almost automatically whenever he laughed or got particular pleased with himself.
Unfortunately for Callum, that was often. Winter made that smile harder to coax out. Luke himself didn't dislike winter, he always wore an extra brown cardigan over his dress-shirt, and a brown scarf. Callum was the one who hated it.
He was practically allergic to such weather. Not just not dressing for the weather, it literally felt like his body was cold-blooded and he felt whatever the temperature was outside.
The first snow fall of the year hade barely begun when Callum.. started shivering....
It wasn't dramatic at first, just a subtle tremor in his shoulders as they walked through the Town. Hands tucked into his pockets of his coat. His platinum-blond hair had collected a few tiny snowflakes, and the tip of his ears -- and nose -- were already turning a light pinkish-red.
Luke had noticed it immediately. How could he not? He slowed his pace.. and then asked, "cold?"
Callum shook his head and denied it, "no."
But another shiver ran through him.
Luke stared in slight disbelief. "You are literally shaking."
Callum objected again, obviously lying, "I am fine." Another shiver ran through him just then.
Luke just sighed, he knew the routine by now. It's been a few years, anyways. No matter how many coats, or jackets, or scarfs he attempted to stitch and sow for Callum, he denied to wear all of them.
Callum would insist he was not cold until his hands became close to frostbite, his shoulders trembling without break, and his teeth clicked, and chattered. Then he'd finally admit that, perhaps, maybe, theoretically, the temperature was not ideal for him. At least the temperature was nice to Luke.
Luke then unraveled his own scarf. It was thick, and brown. Slightly worn down from years of use. He'd had it long enough that it had his own scent, even down to his cologne and the old messenger bag he hauled around everywhere. He took the heavy and thick fabric, and wrapped it around Callum's neck.
The platinum-blond immediately protested, standing on the tips of his toes to be even higher than Luke, but to no avail.
"You will be frozen solid by the time we get back if you don't put the scarf on, Cal'."
"I am already wearing a coat!" Callum pleaded.
Luke shot back: "so am I. And you're shaking."
"I am not!" Callum insisted. Only to be betrayed by another shake. Luke raised an eyebrow, and Callum looked away.
"..that's.... unrelated.."
Luke let out a soft laugh, his double dimples appearing immediately. Callum felt his face softening slightly. "You always do that."
Luke raised an eyebrow, still smiling as he finished wrapping the scarf around Callum. "Do what?"
"Smile. When you know you're about to win an argument."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Luke closed his eyes a second longer than what you'd call a blink as he smiled again.
Callum had to look away, his cheeks warming his face for a second. He touched the fabric. "What about you?"
Luke walked behind him, quickly securing it under his collar so the wind didn't reach his neck. "I'll survive. I know that because I have survived you."
Callum gave him an unimpressed look, and Luke returned it with a grin. His dimples there again. The faint freckles across his nose being slightly more visible now that it was turning a slight pink.
"They're nice." Callum accidentally blurted out.
"What's nice?" Luke asked, bumping his hand against Callum's arm, still inside his jacket.
"Your freckles. They're nice.... cute.. even.."
"Just keep walking, we're almost there." Luke deflected the conversation.
Luke knew Callum looked too good for someone who had a terrible financial life.
Still, the Casino was alive that night.
Music drifting beneath the constant chatter, and clatter of chips and cards. Gold light reflected from polished tables, glass chandeliers, and rows of bottles behind the bar. Cigarette smoke curled lazily beneath the ceiling, gathering in a thin haze above the crowd. Dealers calling out bets in practiced voices while players leaned forward with the tense, hungry expressions of people convinced the next hand would finally change their life, and be the big payout.
Luke followed Callum through the entrance with his messenger bag slung across his shoulder. He looked around before glancing back at Callum. Then back at the Casino.
"..we are not gambling."
Callum, however, kept walking. "Of course not."
"You said that last time."
"And I meant it."
"You lost eighty dollars."
"I was testing something."
"You were testing whether eighty dollars could disappear." Luke objected. God please don't let my secretive boyfriend make me go back to Zachary for a fund.
Callum ignored him. His newly dyed hair was immaculate beneath the chandelier light, the part perfectly arranged. His face was freshly shaved, his white and black suit sitting comfortably on him.
Callum continued towards the Poker tables, Luke followed him. Honesty more interested in the Black Jack tables, though.
Luke dropped into the chair beside him, setting his bag on his lap. "…so you are gambling."
He had brought his journal, Callum of course, noticed. "You writing about my financial downfall?"
"Maybe.." Luke teased.
"Don--"
"I already have a title."
Callum sighed while Luke opened his journal.
"The Continuing and Completely Preventable Financial Collapse of Callum--"
Callum reached over and closed it, "no."
Luke's dimples appeared as his smiled a bit, "fine."
The dealer dealt the cards. and Callum looked down. Luke leaned in a bit. "How bad?"
Callum studied his hand, "....promising?"
Luke immediately knew that meant catastrophic. Luke leaned back, "you're going to lose."
"I haven't even played yet."
"I know you."
Callum placed his bet, and Luke stared at the chips. "This time is different."
"That's what you said when you tried poker against that retired banker."
"I nearly won."
Luke sighed, there was no arguing against this guy. Callum looked at him. "Do you want to leave."
He thought about it and then said flatly, "no."
"Why? You always complain with me being here?"
Luke rested his chin against his hand, "because watching you lose your own money is becoming one of my favourite hobbies."
Callum rolled his eyes. But beneath the table, he knee bumped lightly against Luke's. Neither moved away.
The cards were revealed, and Callum lost.. again, and again, and again, and again. Over again, and over again.
Callum stared at his cards in absolute silence, and Luke's smile widened. "Want me to write that down?"
He quietly opened his journal, wrote the date, and underneath it.
"Callum lost again. He at least looked pretty doing so."
Callum's ears turned pink, again. After recovering from the winter outside. He mumbled under his breath. "You're impossible.."
Luke softly closed his journal with a soft sound. "Yeah." He leaned back in his chair. "Still your favorite person, though."
Callum tried very hard not to smile. He failed, and unfortunately for him Luke noticed.
Luke himself was never a gambler, he was a Paper Boy for God's sake. Which was probably why, when he tried, he was good at it.
Callum had spent years treating casinos like temples of probability. Entering with confidence and leaving with increasingly creative explanations for why losing was actually part of his strategy. Luke, meanwhile, had always regarded gambling as something other people did when they had money they didn't….. particularly.. care about keeping.
Which was why, on one slow evening at the casino, Callum nearly fell out of his chair when Luke casually picked up a deck of cards.
"Once."
Luke had said. Callum just lightly looked at him. "Once?" He repeated.
"Once."
Luke shrugged. "How hard can it be?"
Those were, Callum would later insist, the most dangerous words ever spoken inside of a casino near him. The first hand was obviously beginners luck, given by the dealer at a low bid to make you think you had a chance at winning anything worth something. Obviously. Callum, still, watched Luke place his bet with the cautious uncertainty of someone who still wasn't entirely sure which side of the table belonged to him.
The cards were dealt.. Luke glanced at them, then at the dealer, at Callum, and he made his decision.
He won. Callum fixated on him. ".…just beginners luck."
"Probably." Luke smiled, his dimples sinking into his cheek again.
The second hand was, obviously, just luck. The third.. too.. but by the fourth.. Callum had stopped pretending not to be impressed. It wasn't a lot of money he was betting either, but he's made $400 just by the 4th hand-out.
Luke was not playing aggressively. That was the strangest part. He wasn't throwing money around, or chasing losses. He just.. simply watched. He paid attention to the dealer's habits. The way the cards were handled, the reactions of the other players, and the rhythm of the table. His old reporter instincts had apparently found a new occupation. idk if i wanna finish this man
He observed, remembered. Noticed patterns, and kept winning.
The little pile of chips in front of him became a stack, then another, and then several.
Callum say beside him the increasingly horrified expressionless of a man watching his boyfriend accidentally discover the skill he'd spent years trying, and failing, to acquire. Luke won again, and again, and again. Eventually the dealer looked at him with the wary expression reserved for people who have became.. inconvenient.
Luke finally went out of the haze of confusion, and down at this chips. "Huh.."
That was the singular moment Callum knew they were both in trouble. Luke had discovered something he was good at. Actually.. good. Better than his boyfriend. And they were either about to get beaten by the Casino owners for being too good, or Callum was gonna hear Luke brag about being better than him. And he definitely preferred one of them.
Luke understood probability quickly. He remembered sequences. He could read people. His years of watching expressions and listening to people tell stories had apparently made him annoyingly capable of recognizing when someone was bluffing.
By the time they stood up, Luke had turned one modest bet into an amount of money that made Callum stare at the stack in complete silence.
"We have to leave.."
Luke looked confused, but agreed. Before Luke could become addicting to winning, and Callum could lose any of it. Before either of them made another decision. Luke cashed out the chips, grabbed the money. Stashed the bag into his bag and went home.
Immediately at home, Luke locked it in a safe. He kept a handful, though. Kissed Callum on his nose, before pecking him directly on the lips.
With one cheesy smile he dragged Callum to a restaurant.
Just a nice one, warm lights, polished wooden tables. Windows overlooking the evening snowstorm. The sort of place where neither of them had to worry looking formal. Luke had put on just a normal sweater, and sweatpants with a his shoes. But Callum insisted on looking "good" for their "date."
They ate slowly, letting the strange excitement of the evening settle into something quieter. Luke leaned back in the booth as Callum took another light sip of wine. "We actually made, instead of lose."
"You made money." Callum corrected.
Luke smiled, soft and genuine. He reached under the table where no one would see them, and beg for them to be crucified. His fingers found Callum's hand as he held it. Callum squeezed lightly. "To knowing when to stop gambling."
Luke grabbed his cup of water with lemon and clinked it against Callum's wine glass; "to knowing when to quit."
forgot my art whoops. heres the doodle that i wrote this based off.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.