Chapter Text
After a long day of traveling, the sight of the front door of her new house brings physical relief to Julie’s travel-worn body. Sure, she’s dealt with meetings and airline bullshit all day, but none of that matters now that she’s only steps away from her partner and their cats.
Still, it’s one thing to know intellectually that she’ll be greeted with the fond image of home, and quite another thing to unlock the front door and find… fabric everywhere?
“Luke?” Julie calls.
But there’s no response. She steps cautiously inside. Every single surface of their Echo Park house seems to be covered in softness. The end table by the front door holds piles of JATP tour shirts. Random bookshelves in their living room are filled with decorative pillows. The edges of the TV stand are covered with Double Trouble sweatshirts. The coffee table is smothered in the comforter from their guest room. The decorative hearth of their fireplace is lined with Sunset Curve branded beanies that shield the bricks from view.
And there, finally, in the middle of the living room, is Luke.
He’s holding his phone up in clear “recording a live” position, but the camera is aimed away from his face. (She can almost hear the annoyed groans of the fans who follow him specifically to see his face.) But then she registers what the camera is pointed at, and she really thinks that any potential complainers have the wrong priorities.
Their first Grammy sits on the floor in front of Luke. Tucked carefully inside the small decorative gramophone horn is a tiny saucer with a small pile of cat treats. Alto rests his front paws on the base of the statue and stretches his neck into the horn to reach the food. From the angle Luke is filming from, the saucer isn’t visible, and the cat just appears to be having a tiny, noisy feast out of a Grammy.
Setting down her overnight bag, Julie slips across the room. Without taking his eyes off of the screen, Luke lights up in a grin and tilts the bottom of his face in her direction, letting her know the smile is all for her.
“This is the only way we can get Alto to eat his dinner now,” Luke boldly lies to the phone. “He’s become accustomed to a certain lifestyle, cause he knows he’s a celebrity.”
Julie slides up behind her partner. Wrapping her arms and legs around him from behind, she pulls herself in close to him and rests her chin on his shoulder to peer at the phone screen.
“The thing no one tells you about fame is that it goes to your cat’s head,” Luke intones seriously, as if he’s some sort of academic who studies celebrities’ cats. “He’s become insufferable. Every meal has to be served out of a trophy, and we’re not winning awards fast enough to keep up with his needs. The vet says he’s becoming an asshole. That’s a clinical diagnosis.”
Julie pops a kiss on her partner’s cheek and pipes up loudly, “Are you lying to our fans about our cats?”
“Jules, they can see I’m not lying. Look—evidence.”
Luke waves his free hand in front of the camera in Alto’s direction. The cat immediately twists his head to stare at the hand. Then he steps eagerly forward, abandoning the Grammy in favor of chasing after scratches. When Luke doesn’t immediately stroke his cheek, the cat unleashes a loud, mournful mewl until Luke fixes his behavior, rubbing his pointer finger against the side of the cat’s mouth.
“This snobby asshole thinks you should be streaming Crooked Teeth and Boulevard of Sparks, because he needs us to win a couple Billboard Awards.” Totally oblivious to the nonsense his human is spewing, Alto purrs loudly and bumps his nose against the camera, almost causing Luke to drop the phone. “So if you wanna make sure he stays fancy, blast our albums on repeat and tell your friends! Alto and Treble love you, Fantoms!”
Luke taps to end the live and tosses his phone aside with a loud groan. In an instant, he’s twisted around in Julie’s arms so he’s facing her, and he tugs her more firmly into his lap, her legs loosely curling around him. He stretches his neck up and catches her mouth in a quick kiss.
When they pull apart, he heaves out a relieved sigh. “God, I missed you.”
“I was gone for two days,” she says through a giggle as she wraps her arms snugly around his shoulders.
“Doesn’t change what I just said,” he shoots back before his lips slide over hers again. This time, they linger in the kiss, mouths dancing together slowly and tenderly until all the aches of travel seep out of her body and the bond tickles gleefully in her chest.
When she finally pulls back to catch her breath, she nods at Alto. “The label making you do promo?”
“Dunno why. They know I’m just gonna do shit like this.”
She laughs and leans her forehead against his, reveling for a moment in the feel of his skin against hers once more. Yeah, two days apart is way too many days. “How are the boys supposed to eat off a Billboard Award?”
“Won’t know until we get one. That’s why it’s so important, Jules.”
In spite of his sass, Luke doesn’t actually seem terribly focused on the conversation. His hands slide around her lower back to tuck her impossibly closer, and he glides his mouth down to her jaw. As he sucks gently but insistently at her pulse point, she sways into him with a breathy gasp, her fingers tightening on his shoulders as the waves of pleasure run through her body.
It’s only when her eyes drift open again that she’s reminded of the view of the living room. Clothes, blankets, and pillows inexplicably covering every available surface.
“Was there some kind of soft tornado?”
“Huh?” he mumbles into her neck.
She gestures a hand at the room. “Is that a promo thing?”
He pulls back and shakes his head in disbelief, like the answer is obvious. “The cats are still figuring out where they like sitting in the new place and I wanted to make sure everything was soft and welcoming.”
The wave of affection in her heart pulses gently in their bond. She can tell when the sensation reaches him because he grins up at her, a boyish glow to his face as his gaze dips to her lips. “I didn’t know we had this many shirts.”
Reluctantly, his eyes tug away from her mouth. “Yeah, turns out we’ve got most of the leftover merch from our last tours. And I’m never gonna wear that shit, cause it makes me feel egotistical.”
Julie looks around the living room. At the Grammy with small scraps of cat food. At the stacks of their unsold merchandise covering every surface, many of which are now coated in small fuzzy cat hairs. Julie rests her forehead against Luke’s. “Are we really bad at being famous?”
“Nah, we’re the best at it. Look at us. Our cats eat out of Grammys.”