Chapter Text
“I—” He didn’t want to deny and he didn’t want to confirm. The prospect of Eliott giving him a reasonable response was zero to none considering the tension that sat between them.
“Please?” And Eliott looks every bit vulnerable under Lucas’ gaze. It was unfair.
How his eyes grew wide, lit with betrayal and pleading, body poised like he was ready to jump at the first sign of an unfavorable response from Lucas. But Lucas isn’t sure if he wants to say anything favorable. Not when the last time he finally shouted loud enough for Eliott to hear and find him, when he told Eliott something safe, only for scorn and anger to meld into his flesh. Seared into him like a branding with such a simple look.
Eliott didn’t have any right to beg Lucas the way he did. He wasn’t allowed to simply fall back on their unspoken agreement that Lucas would come to him first when he figured things out with case number one.
He looks from Eliott and towards the door, wondering very briefly if he'd make it out before Eliott could force answers out of his mouth.
"I—"
Lucas' voice cuts off just as he makes a dash for it, hand already extended and poised to yank the door open.
"Lucas, wait!
Lucas narrows his eyes, hating the way Eliott makes him soft.
"No," He lets the denial lick at the back of his teeth. "You don't get to ask that of me." Lucas hurls the words, moving an inch to the right only to have Eliott mirror his actions like they are one in the same. He doesn't believe his own words but he forces as much conviction to coat his tongue as he could muster.
Really, it's easier to simply say Eliott shouldn't ask him for anything. Because Lucas doesn't want to fall right back into wanting to give him everything. Because he would. He's weak and so out of his mind in love with Eliott. But the back and forth, Lucas thinks it's driving him mad. Insane. It'll be easier to cut it off all together.
Yes. For both of them.
The slow inch back and forth and around the table, a dance of flickering eyes, light feet, and the slow chip away at his resolve. Lucas doesn't know what he wants but his breathing becomes labored and he feels his pulse race— blood pumping and eyes dilating. Lucas is dizzy with feeling.
"You're right. Lucas, you're right. I… I shouldn't be asking you for anything."
Eliott looks contrite. Frown tugging at his lips and stormy eyes full of regret.
"So don't, " Lucas can see the way that throat bobs. He doesn't want to give in so quickly like he is wont to do at the slightest wobble of Eliott's lower lips. That kicked puppy look that Eliott wears without meaning to.
"Before you do anything with it— unravel it, tell Mika , anything." Eliott looks at him every single bit of regret those eyes are capable of mustering and it makes Lucas give pause in his pursuit of escaping.
“I need you to know I fucked up . I was scared.” Eliott cries out but his voice is restrained, as if he was afraid the office that sees everything would hear everything just as well. But Lucas knows. They don’t. The Cupid’s, though their occasional eyes linger, are far more engrossed in their cases. Like something shifted in the three months he disappeared to mend himself.
"Why are you telling me this, now?"
He sounds hysterical, voice hitting a pitch that was piercing in the small room. It never felt more enclosed.
Suffocating as he feels like he was being unraveled by his own doing right in front of Eliott.
Becoming a victim to his heart.
And it was unfair. Unfair in the way he wants Eliott to take his hand and cup it, hold it out so Lucas could break right there and all of his pieces would still be right where they need to be.
With Eliott.
“Because I don’t want you to think there’s anything that is forcing me to say this, that there’s something that I’m chasing after, other than you ,” Eliott says, voice breaking. “I want you to know this is me and only me.”
And Lucas desperately wants to believe him. He does, but allowing himself to get close to Eliott has only proven to be impossible. The last time he let his guard down resulted in Eliott flooding his open fields.
Lucas has felt like he’s in the midst of having his rising emotions crest into an eruption. He’s been drowning , feeling the burn in his lungs as he holds it together. He’s been thinking about where they were and how far they got. Then he cycles back to where they are now and it’s so fragile— breakable like glass. Like him and his heart. And he hates it, walking on eggshells while his thoughts are storming inside him, drenching him and blurring his vision.
Suddenly the need to leave the room becomes unbearable.
He watches Eliott look from him to the door as if measuring the distance but Lucas was faster. Running for the only opening, Lucas manages to throw it open before Eliott gets to him. He doesn’t stop the moment his foot crosses the threshold. He feels it, fingers cutting through air, trying desperately to grab at his shoulders but failing by the width of a hair.
He runs. If he stops, Eliott catches him. Eliott catches him then he has to face the fact that he has a decision to be made. And Lucas would rather run. He doesn’t want to think about how this might not work out. Maybe their dynamic was too hostile.
Too much even when he thinks it’s not enough. But running feels wrong and—
Lucas is grabbed by the shoulder. The force of the pull has him twisting midstep. He’s stumbling, body jostling at the fall, elbows jarring upon contact but,
— it feels right all of a sudden. Eyes closed tightly, Lucas feels his head floating rather than the ache in his back when he collided with the floor. He feels weight on his body. Warmth. And so so right. Because he gets lost in the feather light touch of lips on his. Lucas finds himself lifting up, pressing closer. Making it so there was no mistake, that he does not want there to be any space left between.
Making it air tight. Making it his. He feels the press of fingers, light, rough, calloused. He could spend eternity singing songs of this perfection, the poetics at how safe he felt in the split second it takes him to surge up against the body on top of him. To open and keen up into that mouth locked onto his. He licks, and nips, bites, and moans.
Fingers grip at his chin, turning his head every which way to make it better. So much better. Then there’s fingers in his hair, pushing it back, away from his face., tangling and pulling him closer. It’s a pressure he never wants to be rid of.
Lucas is lost. Falling. He can’t tell the difference between right and wrong, up and down. It’s like his field has cracked. His earth pulled apart during a quake and someone— Eliott swooped in and cocooned him in his grasp. Holding Lucas tight, the grass beneath them pressed to the ground that was still rumbling from the force of Eliott’s confession. Teeth bit down on his lips and he is left breathless, chasing when the lips pull away to give his lungs relief.
“ Lucas .”
And the Illusion shatters at the stuttered breathing he hears in his ears. His own name whispered like it was a promise. A secret shared between two lovers. HIs eyes slam open, staring incredulously up at Eliott, who looks equally surprised. On his face, Lucas traces the splash of deep violet, his lips tinged a pretty crimson.
On his neck, Lucas could see trails— roughened like he was in a hurry— that his fingers left behind as he held onto Eliott the moment their lips connected and everything aligned and he was found . Lucas looks over at his wrist, hurriedly runs his own hand on his cheeks and stares at the tips like he would see color there. But it doesn’t work that way and he knows that and all he needs is for his brain to catch up again.
For that heavenly fog to lift. Lucas breathes in harshly through his nose and he jerks, twists his body until he’s out from under Eliott, kneeling on the floor with his eyes wide. He feels hot. His cheeks aflamed. The heat travels all the way down Lucas’ neck towards his chest.
He kissed Eliott. They kissed. Eliott kissed him back and held him, and ran his fingers through his hair like this was a commonplace action. He did it like he’s been wanting to. Before he could let himself slide down that slippery slope of questioning if Eliott wanted to, or if his words from earlier really were true, Lucas is back up on his feet, whole body throbbing with an energy he needs to shake away. He trips over his own legs, one hand against the wall for support, the other mindlessly tracing at his lips that felt swollen.
He’s close to the door, nearly there when a hand reaches out, faster than he does. Plants itself, five fingers splayed and holds the door still and keeps Lucas from opening it to run. Again. Because it's not out of his system. Not out of his thoughts. He is rational. Yes? In his mind he registers just how close Eliott is standing. Or he thinks about how he has already memorized the heat that the other man emits. It’s ridiculous.
Ridiculous how his body wants to curl into it like it’s a hearth. He wants to be lazy— a cat, a flower, fuck, anything that has an excuse to settle into the warmth like he belongs there. Like he deserves it. But one kiss doesn’t give him that right. One meager conversation where he runs away with Eliott chasing him so he could understand doesn’t allow him to stake his claim like he was a squatter. Demanding a house be his for putting in the time.
He hasn’t spoken his words out loud—
“ I’m right here. ”
Hasn’t shared his thoughts—
“ But what would that mean in the face of what I could possibly feel for you after all this time? Right? Because I could love you and it wouldn’t be real ? Right, Eliott?”
Hasn’t spent all his time—
“ You would think, of all the decades, centuries we’ve spent lear— you should know me better by now.”
But he has. And he will continue to.
“Lucas, please wait. I keep fucking up.”
So Lucas turns rather quickly, on the spot. Misjudging the distance between him and Eliott. If his body was aching then his nose was on fire with how hard he hit it against Eliott’s and they both groaned from the pain of impact, their bodies tipping back and sliding back onto the floor. It was jarring. Makes his head spin. Wakes him, shakes away that flush he was feeling. The floatiness that made his limbs tingle, gone.
And somehow he is back where he started. On the floor and looking up at Eliott. Still unable to get away. Above him, Eliott is on his knees, arm still bracing against the door, fingers gingerly touching the bridge of his nose.
"I never said," Lucas whispers harshly, his breath escaping him as he looks up at Eliott, the image of the beautiful man distorted from the way his lashes clumped and wetness clung to it. "... I don't blame you, Eliott."
His lips tingle from the truth, from the pressure he still feels when he thinks about Eliott accidentally kissing him. That press of skin.
"But I can't keep doing this back and forth, Eliott." It's eating at him. Feasting on his heart and thoughts and making it so difficult to just simply exist without thinking about what he could have if things went right for once. "We either are or we aren't."
Something or nothing.
Not this in between, this limbo that has Lucas questioning if Eliott wants what he wants. Or if he simply wants Lucas to stop breaking what he builds. Does he want Lucas for Lucas?
Does it run deeper, reach deeper than what they have been built to do?
Eliott nods. He nods again and again, hands shaking, and moving to cup at Lucas' face, tender.
"Every time I built something I thought to be unbreakable I thought, I could face you. I thought this was it and I could give you something strong enough to withhold anything. Something you deserved and—and then you came in tearing it down so easily, how could I give that to you? When it never felt like it was good enough."
Lucas lets out a strangled sound. They were such idiots.
"It was easier to think you just didn 't want what I had to offer, even if I kept trying to give you the best of what I had—but this entire time," Eliott strokes at Lucas' cheeks, his thumbs drawing soothing circles on skin, fingers clutching desperately at his jaw, his neck. Everywhere.
"I gave you nothing. I drove you away. I couldn't say sorry. All while I am so deeply in love with you and I'm— god, I'm so sorry for ever making you think that it isn't possible for me to love you." His voice cracks and the quality lights something Lucas.
He surges forward, hands scrambling for purchase, to hold onto Eliott the same way Eliott holds onto him. He doesn't get enough skin but Eliott is solid. He is there and everything he just confessed singes Lucas, licks him like a flame that brings him to life. He has the words I love you on his tongue. The phrase I'm sorry on his mind because he hasn't made any of this easy on the other man.
I want you, in his heart because there was a desperation that pumps through his veins.
" Please ," he cries out, voice hoarse and begging Eliott to understand. He claws at the other, drags him down until his weight pins Lucas to the floor. And it is the best feeling. The closeness. There is no mistake when their lips meet this time and he opens up to Eliott.
Eliott fucks into Lucas' mouth with his tongue. The feeling, the want and urge to get more, more, more, is carnal and it pulls an animalistic sound from him when Eliott presses his body down, again — all he can do is respond with his own press up, like a promise made with tangled tongues.
When Eliott pulls away, lips spit shined and eyes glazed and filled with that emotion Lucas never thought he'd see reflected in those eyes and aimed at him—he lets out a sob masked as a laugh and turns his head away. Like he can't take it.
His chest heaves in tandem with the beating of his heart.
"Fuck, I've wanted you for so long."
Lucas closes his eyes against his own confession. Willing Eliott not to see him as he lies there, vulnerable and for the taking. He shudders at the feeling of Eliott pressing his forehead to the crook of his neck, lips seeking out his skin, so sensitive to the touch. It's warm, makes his heart flutter softly, almost unbelievable. Like a fever dream.
Except he is here. On the floor, way after office hours and Eliott there on top of him, cuddling so close, as if to dispel any space that lingered between the two of them.
"I solved it."
Lucas whispers this and to his surprise, Eliott doesn't stop dropping kisses on his skin. Those strong hands that have built so much love continue to map out the shape of Lucas. At no point does Eliott hesitate.
"I don't care."
Eliott whispers, lips touching his ears and laying soft lovely, open mouth kisses behind his ears.
Like Lucas is precious.
Like Lucas is worth more than his case.
Like Lucas is everything he cares about.
Lucas writhes against the pressure. Feels the tips of fingers, the sole of his feet go numb with desire. And he can think about, care about, is how Eliott wants him.
Desires him and only him and they are so close with nothing but air separating them.
A dream come true. Literally.
"We really should head out..."
Lucas whispers, the air of the office charged with desire. But Eliott pulls away like he's burned. Like his wants should.have taken pause in the grand scheme of things.
"R-right! Fuck, I wasn't thinking. I, uh, I should," he draws his bottom lip in between a row of pearly whites and bites down until the skin turns white.
Lucas thinks, I'm so in love with you. Because Eliott is a vision. One Lucas can't believe he has, right there, in front of him. Watching and seeing and taking in his fill. Smiling, Lucas brings his hand up to cradle Eliott's face. Calming the bubbling anxiousness that blankets Eliott at his statement.
"Take me with you, Eliott."
His vision whites out at the way Eliott beams at him, those speckled eyes— like the cosmos— gleam with something indescribable. His smile is blinding. Lucas cranes his neck so he's close enough to leave a closed mouth kiss on Eliott's petaled lips, simply because he could. Anytime he wants.
"You mean that?"
It's so innocent, the question. Eliott's uncertainty.
"You're going to keep me waiting?" After all this time. "If I wasn't clear," which he wasn't. " I've wanted you since you completed case number one."
Lucas admits, a deep dark secret he has held onto through the ages. The shocked look on Eliott's face makes Lucas blush. Heat eating away at him.
"That was before we even—"
Lucas moves his hand until it covers Eliott's mouth because he can't handle that truth being said out loud. Before they even fully met in person. Worked together. Got to know each other. Lucas already wanted to know the soul behind such a work of beauty; one he couldn't crack no matter how hard he tried.
"You're still going to keep me waiting?"
The question is soft but Lucas asks it without expectation. Because like it or not, if Eliott decided to keep him waiting, then Lucas would do just that. He'd wait and stew and wait. Because at this point there was little else that he knew how to do when it came to Eliott. But he bares his soul and his heart quivers. A silent beg for the waiting to be over.
And instead of answering, Eliott takes him by the hand and with a strength that Lucas has only ever witnessed, not felt, Eliott hauls the both of them up. Leads him out of the office. Away.
Towards home.
To Eliott's place where they didn't have to worry about privacy. Had he been thinking clearly, mind not foggy with the thoughts of Eliott and him, and finally , and shit this is really happening, Lucas would have taken it all in. But as it so happens Lucas is far too in love with the way they both stumble through the dark. Their hands on each other.
Neither one wanted to let go. Lucas can taste the urgency on his skin when Eliott reaches for him, closing space and stopping time. His touch is a push and pull of gentleness and need and want. It bleeds desire and love . The elation that fills Lucas at the core, makes his bones dense as he undresses, as he shares his air with Eliott, kisses him with everything that he has— that feeling is overwhelming to the point that it consumes him.
He thinks only of Eliott. Presses close to him and tears away at his clothing, uncaring of the stitches and threads that come apart because all that is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
Eliott runs his hands up and down his body, fingers splayed the expanse of Lucas’ hips like he fits perfectly, made for Eliott to hold. Those fingers squeezes and Lucas keens at the bruising grip. He lets out an embarrassing whine at the feel of it. The thought of Eliott on top of him, blanketing him with his weight. It drives him mad with want. Love.
He lets out a half broken sob.
“Lucas, baby, I-I want…”
“ Please, Eliott .”
They’ve waited and they’ve grieved. And they’ve filled themselves with thoughts of what seemed impossible. What would never happen. But it is happening now and Lucas just wants Eliott in every sense. He wants Eliott on him, in him, with him. He wants to sleep beside this man and wake up sore and achy and happy. It’s a mantra of “now, now, now , please Eliott, I want you, more.” He speaks into the crook of Eliott’s neck, clings to him, lathes sweat slick skin with his tongue. When Eliott pulls away, Lucas holds on.
Eliott chuckles and with so much love, gently pries and loosens Lucas’ grip so he can sit up resting his weight on his knees, between Lucas’ legs.
Lucas is aware of how he looks. Eyes wanting as he stares up at Eliott, lips parted and panting, desperate, skin shining with sweat. He should feel ashamed with how hard and aching he is, how turned on he feels when Eliott looks down at him— his cock resting and weeping, the blushing tip a cherried red against his milky thighs.
“I should kill you for making me wait.” Again, again, again.
But Eliott only smiles, those eyes of his memorizing Lucas like he was going to get up and leave.
“You’re beautiful.”
Lucas bites at his lips. He wants to say stop, say go. He nearly demands Eliott to hurry up and show him how beautiful he is but the words evaporate against the air. And he waits.
Eliott takes his time, loving Lucas and wearing him down to his bare bones. Fingertips dancing on skin and lips kissing, teeth nipping. He leaves Lucas thrumming, drenched and vibrating with anticipation. He exhales, pulls in air through his nose, opens his legs and begs without words.
He’s known Eliott for a long time. But he’s never known him to be cruel until now.
“You’re teasing me.”
“No, I’m loving you.” Worshipping him. But Eliott plays him like an instrument. Sucks bruises, large and small red and purple bites on the inner skin of his thighs, leaving them trembling with want. He touches him everywhere, paints Lucas’ skin in all of his colors and pulls away to look at his handy work.
Lucas wants to be upset, feeling like he’s slowly going crazy, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes from frustration, but Eliott is glowing. Drunk off the intimacy of simply being in Lucas’ space. And Lucas can give this to him.
Fingers ghost over his lips and Lucas draws them into his mouth, bites down on the tender skin and soothes the hurt with his tongue. He holds Eliott by the wrist, refusing to let him pull away, not until he’s dripping, wet with spit.
Lucas cries out when Eliott takes his fingers back with a soft laugh.
“You’re being so good for me— so good, baby.”
Lucas preens at the praise, feeling his heart race. Eliott slinks his body down till he rests between Lucas’ legs, his mouth latching onto the sensitive skin where his thighs crease.
Cool slick fingers press slowly inside him. The pressure leaves Lucas panting. Loving the feeling. Wanting more, more,
“M-more, ple- hah, Eliott.”
Eliott is slow, like he has been since they’ve started. Taking his time in taking Lucas apart. One finger pumping slowly, stretching him. Lucas thinks he knows what it means to go mad. Delirious. Wanting to fuck down on Eliott’s hand. But then Eliott shifts and something thick and wet and moving joins his fingers and Lucas moans and he absolutely loses himself.
Throws his head back against the pillows, hands moving to clench and tug at Eliott’s hair. Eliott licks into him, pulls away and blows on his skin, tongue flattening and pointing, alternating back and forth and Lucas is left babbling nonsense.
One finger becomes two. Then three. The sound of his panting, of Eliott eating him out, fucking him with those beautiful fingers. It’s filthy.
“You’re opening up so good for me, baby. Fuck.”
Lucas repeats it. So good, so good, just for you. Eyes closed and taking in the sensations. He can’t stop the tears, doesn’t care to stop them because it’s so good. He’s so good for Eliott. And he wants to keep being good. When Eliott licks a strip up Lucas’ cock as he hits that spot inside Lucas, fingers gliding and pressing in, in, in— just right, Lucas sees stars and cries out, shouts until his throat feels sore.
“Fuck. fuck. Luc-Lucas I’m going to—”
Lucas nods his head. Rapidly. He wants to say, finally. But he’s so close to the edge that functioning is beyond him. Eliott sits up, reaches past him and the click of a bottle is like music to Lucas. The slick sound of lube warming up on Eliott’s cock on serves as a reminder of what is about to come.
Eliott inches in, eyes closed, lips drawn in, teeth biting down. His muscles thrum with restraint and all Lucas can see, feel, is every inch of skin that is touching Eliott. He’s breathing through the drag and draw of skin on skin until Eliott is fully seated inside him.
But Eliott is done playing it slow. His rhythm changes as he lifts Lucas from his thighs, hauling his hips up off the mattress fucking down and into Lucas. Punching out satisfied cries from Lucas.
Lucas strains to pay attention through the haze of pleasure, hiccups and tears up— he listens to the staccato breathing of his lover and thinks that this was his. Only his. And there was no way he was letting it go. Giving it up to anyone.
He thinks,
“Mine, E-Eliott,” another broken moan when Eliott aims just right over and over again, hips stuttering and pleasure pulling out an animalistic growl from the man above him. “Mine.”
“H-haa, nngh, yours, fuck Lucas, yours. Baby c’mon, come for me.”
Long fingers wrap around his dick and Lucas phazes out. His mind melts and it is all he could do to let the feeling overtake him as he hits his peak, clenching down on Eliott’s cock. He’s boneless against Eliott’s harsh thrusts as Eliott chases after his own pleasure. Meeting it and spilling inside Lucas not seconds after Lucas came. The broken moan, the cut-off breath. It settles something in Lucas.
When Eliott comes down, he flops to the side, softening cock pulling free and Lucas groans at the loss.
“M’srry.” Eliott mumbles into the sweat shined skin of Lucas’ neck. “Let me help clean you up.” He says this, drops small kisses behind Lucas’ ear.
Eliott makes a move to get up but Lucas pulls him closer. Makes sure the weight of his arm remains there, thrown across his belly, their legs still tangled. He can feel the steady puff of air, the push and pull of Eliott’s breathing on the side of his face. Nose brushing against Lucas’ temple.
“In a bit. Just.” He swallows thickly, eyes throbbing and achy from crying. “Just stay like this for a little while longer.” Please.
There, sticky and drenched in sweat and body fluids. Lucas doesn’t want to lose it just yet. He wants to bask in the closeness. The reality that was now theirs. They can clean up later, have that regret surge through them as they laugh their way through a shower. Together.
Lucas would like that. He closes his eyes and curls himself against Eliott.
Lucas would love that. Everything else can wait. The case and Mika can wait. The world can wait. Lucas did his waiting.
It takes six weeks for Lucas to seek out Mika. Case in hand. Six weeks of Eliott and Lucas pretending things were just the same as they left it back when Eliott had his bitch fit and Lucas had his meltdown.
They give the office nothing to work off of. Coming and going without so much as a word in each other’s direction. Touching only where clothing can hide. Or when they know enough time will pass and the colors will fade from sight. It’s hard, but they do it. Lucas tells Yann he’s found his own place and he ignores the sad eyes that Manon sends his ways.
He revels in the desperate look he sees on Lucille’s face whenever she catches the two of them in the same room but with their backs towards one another. He understands now, of course. The role she played. But he can still harbor the slightest bit of hate for her. If only to keep things consistent.
He completely ignores anything that has to do with his boss. But that’s not much if he’s to be honest. Because Mika is as quiet as a mouse. Only when Lucas can think his name without feeling that surge of anger does he attempt to make peace. So Lucas marches as best as he can on the shag rug, case number one filed away in his hands. He runs through it once again, mouthing his speech that he wants to say when he comes face to face with Mika.
And when the door to that god awful bright pink room opens, with all the knick-knacks and enchanted XOXO balloons that cover the ceiling, Lucas is ready. But his mouth grows slack and blue eyes narrow.
“You’re not Mika.”
Camille shoots him a smile. Those brown eyes softening.
“No, what gave it away?” He snorts a laugh, and his nose wrinkles in a way that Lucas finds cute.
“Where is he?”
Of everything he expects. Tears. Forced hugs and being dragged into the office. Mika’s teary-eyed and wet whisper of, " kitten", and then apologies and cheesecake and forgiveness. He doesn't expect to see Camille clicking away at a desktop, flipping through files, he doesn't expect to see an organized desk. Ever.
The signature Mika presence is lacking in the space and it leaves Lucas feeling uneasy.
"How are you, Lucas?"
Avoiding the question. Lucas narrows his eyes. Steps farther into the office making sure the door clicks behind him.
He takes a seat and hates the way he sinks into the cushions. The fuzzy throw pillows were a new addition.
"Last time I saw you, things weren't going so well."
Understatement of the fucking century. He has nothing against Camille. Watching as the brunette toys with a stuffy, pink pen in one hand twirling in the air in nervous gestures. But Camille was stalling and he wasn't looking at Lucas and there's something tense there in the lines of his shoulders.
And Lucas doesn't like any of it.
"Last time you saw me, Mika was with you—where is he?"
Lucas plans on asking until he’s blue in the face. Until Camille tires of talking circles. And Camille let’s a out a sigh, one that shakes his entire body, eyes a little more than sad.
“He’s off repenting somewhere. He was demoted, but—”
“What the fuck do you mean he’s been demoted?” Lucas shoots up to his feet, palms landing on the desk with a hard thunk, shaking the loose statuettes of baby cupids and their bow and arrow. He doesn’t care how the file spills from his lap, and lands on the floor like an important thing.
“Lucas please calm do—”
“Tell me to calm down and I swear to whatever deity is out there I will rip your head off.”
He pauses, chest heaving. Camille’s eyes widen but a smile finds its way onto his lips. Small. Then his words hit and Lucas closes his eyes trying to visibly calm down. It does him no good when he randomly threatens the head of a separate interdimensional office. No matter how much he wants to.
“Unfortunately there’s not much I could tell you— Mika… he interfered where he shouldn’t have, threatened harm against another cupid in the aftermath of what happened all those months ago.”
Lucas thinks about Noée. He thinks about the curtains. He thinks about Mika and how his friend kept secrets but did what he could to make the transition into that disgusting glass office as painless as possible.
“Then he proceeded to threaten the head cupids,” Camille pointed his fingers up at the ceiling. Indicates the problem being one that even Lucas wasn’t willing to touch with a ten foot pole. Because yes, Lucas is the best unraveler there is, but he doesn’t fuck with the ebb and flow that is those in charge of everything. Everything.
And Mika did. Mika went and threatened someone and got demoted. And now Camille is here.
“So what, you’re in charge now?”
Camille is silent for a second. Fingers tapping the pen back and forth, back and forth. HIs elbow firmly on the table top, face half covered by the palm of his hands as his eyes lock onto Lucas. It feels like Camille is peering into Lucas’ soul and he isn’t sure how he should take such an invasion of privacy.
“Did you know that Mika and I were placed in that room?” Camille admits with a smile. His voice is muffled by the palm of his hands but Lucas can hear him. The admission is shocking.
Lucas shakes his head, because no. He didn’t know that little tidbit of information. Mika’s trust me , seems less sinister now that he thinks of it. Because if he knew the kind of pressure that room left, the strain and impossibilities of succeeding under that kind of attention, then Mika had all the faith in Lucas and Eliott. Experiment or not. It was like his friend knew.
“We didn’t do so well, as you could guess— I ended the experiment despite what I felt for him. I,” Camille clears his throat and looks away, the pen still tapping. “I didn’t even last long enough to figure out it was an experiment. He begged me to stay.” Camille looks far away. Lost in memory.
One that wasn’t so fond despite the gentle lift of his lips.
“I failed him back then. I failed whatever experiment it was they were trying to run and I didn’t give them the results they were looking for.” Camille heaves a sigh, and looks at Lucas, coming back into himself. “My one regret, after all this time, was not giving Mika the kind of love that he deserves.”
It’s heartbreaking, the way Camille holds onto that despite all the time that has passed. But even more so that he believes he failed Mika somehow.
“What is it with you and all the cupids thinking that love is static?”
Camille looks surprised by his words and Lucas scrunches his nose, blushing.
“It’s… it’s not simply over because you fuck up, you know? You’re here, you’ve been here with Mika since I’ve known him, and that’s a long fucking time. And every time you two are in a room together the amount of love you both drip, seeps into the air and I want to vomit.”
Lucas sinks back down into the chair, blue eyes taking in the pink of the office, the pink of the decor.
“Love can come and go and come and go and come back stronger every time. And fuck whatever results they were looking for because apparently those head cupids are impatient assholes.”
Camille snorts and his shoulders shake with a laughter that is light and airy and deep his Camille kind of way. A way that only he is able to manage. It’s soothing.
“So tell me what results they want so I can get my friend back where he belongs and I can rightfully get my revenge the way I wanted to and you two can— I don’t know fuck like rabbits the way you were meant to.” Lucas waves his hand in the air like he’s talking about the weather.
Ignoring the blush that spills over Camille’s high cheekbones, Lucas gives him a pointed look, like get on with it.
“I wish I could have gotten to know you long before now,” Camille said. The genuinity of the statement makes Lucas look away.
“Well he was demoted, but with the stipulation that if he could get the results they were asking for he could be reinstated,” a proud smile plays on his lips. “He kindly told them to fuck off and has been… as I’ve stated, repenting away from everyone.”
Everyone. The word echoes in the small office and Lucas’ heart aches the man that sits on the other side of the divide.
“And what do they want?”
“A successful soul bond— one that is unbreakable.”
Lucas rolls his eyes.
“Oh, that’s it? How very fucking reasonable of them.”
Camille shrugs his shoulders.
“If it worked out between you and Demaury, they would have gotten what they wanted...I’m sorry about what happened before, I never got a chance to apologize on behalf of Noée.”
Lucas freezes. Mutters a quiet, it’s fine. Even though it wasn’t and he is sure he would absolutely fly into a fit of rage if he saw Noée at this very moment. He runs through what Camille just said and thinks about how he was to get his friend back to being his boss.
Get him back to his lover like he was meant to. He snorts because it feels, in this instant, that he was playing the part of a cupid.
“So you’re telling me that they were just waiting for the results of this forsaken experiment and Mika can get his job back?”
“Yes, but Lucas, Mika refuses to get involved with this anymore, he’s torn up about the whole thing.”
“Right well, go contact the powers that be and tell them that they got what they wanted and go fetch Mika and let him know he has his old job back. Go make sweet sweet love to him or whatever it is that you all get up to when you’re alone.”
Lucas stands and is about to leave, file in hand when Camille drops his shoulders in a stance of despair.
“I don’t think you understand the severity of all thi—”
“No, you don’t understand. Eliott and I have been fucking for the last six weeks. We’re a thing. A couple, unbreakable bond and all that. Practically soulmates.”
He loves how there’s so much truth laced in his words. How much power it gives him to speak it out loud.
“You can let Mika know he can take all the credit if he wants. And he should negotiate to have you working as his co-manager of this branch. It’d make things way more bearable around here, that’s for sure.”
Lucas delights in the shock written in the lines of Camille’s face.
“You mean… Lucas, do you know what you’re saying? This is insane.” There’s awe in his voice.
"The only thing I know is that I love him and he loves me and whatever comes, comes. That's all I really care about, Camille. Let me know when I am to expect Mika in his office again so I can give him his welcome back surprise. I do suggest you not being there for it when he shows up— oh, and one more thing, go ahead and let them, whoever they may be, know that I solved case number one."
Lucas ticks the folder in the air, watching as Camille's eyes grow wider as he follows the trajectory of Lucas' hands. Lucas leaves him with that. Feeling a little lighter than he felt walking in.
Making his way back to his office, Lucas is greeted with the sight of Eliott's bent form, pouring over a new case. Brows drawn down and tongue peeking out from parted pink lips.
He's so in love with this man. Lucas strides over to him, takes in the way Eliott's breaks out of concentration, looking up through his messy fringe.
"Lucas, baby how did the—"
The best part is that he can kiss him, like he does now. Slots their lips together for the perfect fit. Anytime he wants and Eliott let's him. Wants the same thing as Lucas, loves him just the same.
When he pulls away, those hands that were just creating love, move to cradle his face with a gentleness that makes Lucas' entire body shiver with want. A want to be close; to never move away.
"Want to help me redecorate Mika's office before he comes back?"
Eliott cracks a smile.
"When is he coming back?"
And like Camille was eavesdropping, there's a ping and a blinding light before a note drops down in front of them both, hot pink in color.
Lucas rolls his eyes. "Tomorrow. We have our work cut out for us."
"I think it's possible."
Eliott shrugs his shoulders. "I'm game. How do you think he'll take it?"
Lucas smirks in his direction. Struck by the thought that Eliott was made for him. "If We are lucky, he'll sob a little, lament over his office, and then we will hug it out." Maybe on the sidelines, Manon will stand there looking impressed, uttering her approval of his cruel and wicked ways.
But things will be right. Because this is how he does things.
"I'm going to pop out and pick up some things, and when I come back we'll get to work."
"You might want to wait a little bit, I smeared your cheeks."
Lucas shakes his head. "I don't care if they see."
Eliott beams at him and it's all he can do but rip himself away, to actually stick with his plan.
And his plan requires at least 10 cans of black paint and scissors.
Lucas takes to the walls first, smearing a thick layer over the pink with sick satisfaction. On the desk Eliott takes the stuffed hearts and puts scissors to the limbs, giving quick amputating snips before dropping the stuffy to the floor in pieces.
"Quite morbid of you."
"You have no idea how much I hate his stuffies." Eliott said, a bit of venom bleeding into his tone.
It makes Lucas' blood boil.
"And here I though all you cupids loved this horrible representation of love."
Eliott lets out a loud guffaw, the sound echoing in the room. "Don't be prescriptivist Lallemant."
"Me? Never."
Eliott continues cutting up every little stuffed heart that has mocked him when he's visited. When he's done he takes the points of his scissors to pop the balloons that gleam in a mocking chrome.
The satisfying hiss of each one makes Lucas grin. This was cruel. Cruel even for him. And when Eliott is terrorizing his way through Mika's collection, Lucas offers him a paint brush and they cover every inch of the office in black.
Laughing and giggling every time a splatter of paint would catch on their skin. Lucas shouts when Eliott gives up on the room and turns the brush on Lucas instead.
It becomes a show of dodging and swipes, and moving away and moving close. A dance in the enclosed space. One where they are learning the steps together.
Somewhere between catching Eliott by the wrist and pulling him in, Lucas finds himself locked in a battle of lips and nips and trying hard to get clothing off. They are both drenched in black paint and where their skin shines through, it is all colorful stripes and wearing each other's colors.
Lucas nuzzles his nose against Eliott's chin, tilt hisnhead back and laughs when Eliott bites down on his collarbone then proceeds to spit out a mouthful of paint.
"We're in Mika's office."
Lucas wraps his arms around Eliott.
"Mmhm." Pulls him closer.
"You're covered in paint."
Lucas leans back and runs a finger through a thick glob of paint that covers Eliott's chest, loving the way that his touch leaves a trail of pretty vivid purple on his skin.
"So are you." He locks eyes with Eliott and smirks. "I bet there's one place that isn't covered in paint."
His fingers move to play with the waistband of Eliott's boxers.
Eliott cocks a brow.
"Here?"
Lucas snorts indelicately.
"I bet the shag rug is really good on the knees."
Somewhere under all that paint Lucas is sure Eliott is blushing. But he does sink to his knees, and he is right that the rug is worth more than he gave it credit for.
He takes Eliott out of his mind, thoughts on where they were and he makes Eliott focus just on him and only him. And he keeps it that way when they both finish and they stumble out of Mika's office, still covered head to toe in paint with their clothing thrown on haphazardly.
Lucas begs for Eliott to take him home and finish what they started.
And he does. Takes him home and fucks him against the door to their apartment. Makes love to him as they rinse off the paint in the shower.
Holds him in their shared bed. Blends his scent with Lucas. Content.
"How did you crack it? What did I do wrong?" Eliott asked.
Lucas knew would ask, and it's perfectly fine to think about it in the comfort and privacy of each other's company. Lucas doesn't want it any other way. He thinks about how to answer. He's still feeling entirely blissed out. Tired from their earlier conquest of Mika's office. Exhausted from the round against the door, the shower. It's the best kind of ache. He's staring at the ceiling mulling his answer, rolling it around in his thoughts before the words slip out,
"It was incomplete." Lucas shrugs.
"What?"
"You never completed the case. It remains inactive, or dormant I should say, because you never gave it life. And what's love without life?" Lucas turns to look at Eliott, his blue eyes soft.
"I think," he chooses his words carefully. "It was such a glaring mistake, none of us caught it. And you made it so strong, it looked like it could stand on its own—but it didn't, and that's why the threads kept bouncing back. There was technically nothing there for me to cut."
To his left he feels Eliott sink into the mattress, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You're fucking kidding me."
Lucas snorts and rolls onto his side, snuggling up against Eliott and siphoning away his warmth like a thief.
"Nope, I wish I was kidding." How many fuckingnyears wasted when the mistake was so damn simple that nobody saw it.
"What if I can't recreate that?"
"You have," Lucas responds, eyes glued to the bob of Eliott's throat as he swallows his insecurities. "With me."
He speaks the truth. Feels the certainty of his words in this moment and there was nothing that would convince him otherwise.
"And you'll do it again, and again."
Until there were thousands of cases of love that would transcend time and death and anything silly that could tarnish love. Eliott would dig deep inside himself and he'd make it happen. He'd breathe love into life the way that he is so capable of.
"You have too much faith."
A small satisfied sound punches its way out of parted lips. Eliott sounds amused. Satisfied.
Lucas wants to disagree. He closes his eyes, hands curled on top of Eliott's chest as he pushes closer. The closest he could get.
"I have enough."
Eliott rolls over. Moves until his limbs drape and tangle with Lucas. He acts like a cover one, Lucas bathes in the comfort of.
"And when that faith runs out?"
Then Lucas digs deeper. Reaches inside himself and Eliott and finds more. Finds those threads and bundles and brings them to the surface. Over and over again.
"It won't." He won't let that happen. Not for as long as he loves this man. Lucas smiles, closes his eyes and burrows into Eliott's hold, letting the sensations take over.