6*OUR SONG*
It was a warm evening in Paris, one of those that happens as the summer reaches its end. Old stones of town houses still radiated the heat they'd accumulated during July and August, but the wind carried a promise of autumn in the breeze. Street lights bloomed one by one with soft yellows and whites. The air carried tempting aromas from nearby bistros and cafes, while the Seine hummed her gentle song, unhurriedly lulling the city to sleep.
Her pink ballerinas barely made a sound, just a murmur over the susurrating water as the two of them strolled by the river. Luka tried to step as lightly although his sneakers didn't make for a quiet walk despite the name. He really wished he could move soundlessly so that nothing disturbed the song of Marinette's heart for him.
The adorable laugh that spilled from her lips was like pearls clinking in the jeweler's box. The flutter of her lashes sang of butterflies dancing over a meadow. Her silky hair moved gently in the breeze, as if it wanted to whisper a secret into her ear. The fabric of her dazzling dress flowed around her, glimmering in the scarce light provided by nearby lamps.
She was stunningly beautiful and he still couldn't believe that he'd been allowed to take her on a date, that he'd been blessed with her presence that evening. Just the two of them, no one else. No friends needing help, no boys diverting her attention and affection. No lies to uncover, no akumas wrecking havoc. For once, the night tucked Paris to sleep with a warm, dark blanket, allowing the two teens to enjoy each others presence.
They reached a part of the river bank hidden from the pathway and Luka halted, squeezing Marinette's hand. He bowed in front of her.
'May I have this dance?' he offered with a small smile.
She snorted as if he said a joke, yet a delicious blush dusted her cheeks, proof that his advances were not in vain.
Luka waited patiently, his smile unwavering, his hand still holding her hand, thumb gently grazing over her knuckles, until her giggles died away.
'Wait, you're serious?' She cast him a searching look.
'I'm always serious when it comes to you, Marinette,' he murmured. The one time he had quipped when she stuttered her name was enough for him to realize how fragile she could be.
That was the thing that intrigued him, that drew him to her. There was a mystery surrounding the girl. She seemed so sweet, shy and frail, and in the next moment she became headstrong, confident, passionate. And so smart. Marinette was a mosaic of contradictions on two quite shapely legs. And while Luka felt the urge to protect her, he knew full well that she was capable of dealing with whatever threat was thrown at her. He'd seen her in action on his mother's boat and he wholeheartedly agreed with Adrien that Marinette was the best candidate for an everyday Ladybug there could be. Hell, she was probably better than Ladybug herself, since she could handle most of the things the heroine could but without a spandex costume.
'Will you dance with me?' Luka reiterated, tone serious but kind.
Awkward silence and tentative shuffling of feet were his reply this time.
'I'm not very good at dancing,' Marinette mumbled looking at the tips of her ballerinas. 'I trip over thin air.'
He put a thumb under her chin and coaxed her to look at him. The sight of her deep blue eyes, rimmed with the dark curtains of lashes, took his breath away.
They stayed like this for a while, just gazing at each other. Luka broke the silence first.
'That's not what I've seen,' he shook his head. 'On the ice rink?' he reminded. 'You were plenty graceful.'
Marinette ducked her head and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She knitted her brows. 'But… there's no music,' she looked to the empty bank, tucked in semi-darkness.
He smiled brightly and leaned to whisper into her ear. 'There's always music.'
She shivered in his arms, but scooted closer. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the rich aroma of vanilla and butter. True to her surname Marinette smelled like bread, like a real home should have.
'Do you hear the waves brushing over the shoreline?' he murmured. Their distant song was like gasps of surprise when water met stone.
She nodded lightly.
'That's our percussion.' Luka slowly lifted her hands to his shoulders, encouraging her to rest them on his jacket. Her fingers clutched tentatively at the material, sending goose bumps over his skin underneath.
'Can you hear the cars' wheels thumping over the cobblestones? That's our backbeat.' He put his hands on her lower back reveling in the closeness and easiness between them.
'And the clatter of the cutlery and glasses from that bistro?' Marinette muttered, a teasing lilt to her voice.
'Those are triangles and xylophones,' he shot back without missing a beat. He never missed a beat.
He swayed gently, turning them around. Marinette yielded to his lead.
'Now, I think I know what tune you'll like,' he whispered into her ear.
He started humming, and the melody came to him, soft and sweet, like the girl in his arms. The rhythm of droplets dripping from gutters into the puddles guided his steps.
Luka chuckled under his breath and shifted their position, pulling Marinette closer. He risked a glance at her face when he rotated them to the newly established rhythm. He couldn't help but return the smile he was met with. Elated, joyful, carefree. Her eyes shone with inner light, brighter than the stars one could no longer see over Paris.
He continued to hum as they moved their feet. She tightened her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. A small sight escaped her lips. His heart betrayed him in that moment, beating wildly out of rhythm, excited she lent her ear to hear its song. His voice caught in his throat, interrupting the melody.
Silence fell over them, four heartbeats that stretched to infinity.
And then Marinette picked up the song, as if she knew it by heart, the pause only put in there on purpose. She started humming where he stopped, soft vibrations of her voice sending shivers down his spine. Her fingers slipped into his hair at the base of his neck in a soft caress.
Luka listened, enchanted, until he trusted his voice enough to join her. He could feel that she smiled against his chest. Emboldened, he took her hand and guided her into a pirouette, then a second one, before ultimately pulling her close again. She laughed out loud, a crescendo of a lead vocal against his hum. This, too, was a perfect part of the melody.
They continued to sway, cuddled close until the music died out. Marinette withdrew enough to look at him.
'That was amazing,' she praised. 'Did you write it yourself? Is this your song?'
He thought how it came to him, born from their evening together, from the warmth and coziness between them, from the fuzzy feeling blooming in his chest and the blush that adorned her cheeks. From her laugh and his smiles. From the darkness of the riverbank and the susurration of the river. It wasn't his, even if he was the one to seize and capture it first.
'No, Marinette,' he gazed at her softly. His heart stuttered when she returned his gaze with an adoring look of her own.
'It's ours,' he whispered. 'It's our song.'
Author's Note: This is a story written for Whatarubberchicken for our little Lukanette Exchange on tumblr. I'm terribly sorry it's a bit late, but life's been hectic these past few weeks.
Reviews, favs and follows are greatly appreciated. I do my best to reply to those I can (that means all bar guest reviews as this is a completed work).
A huge thank you to Remasa, who betaread this story and contributed to smoothing it here and there!
For more miraculous content visit me on tumblr: perditaalottachocolate-blog . tumblr . com
