#fairytale elements

He shuffles around the couch, throwing around the pillows haphazardly in the hope that it’s right there, that it simply got buried. He checks the other couch as well, tossing its pillows to the heavens. He doesn’t care wherever they land.

He goes on to check every likely spot in his workshop where he might have left it. Surely, under that desk. Surely, at DUM-E’s station. Surely it’s somewhere in here, he just misplaced it and forgot.

(That’s impossible. He would never forget where he last left it. It’s The One Thing he always has and always will handle with utmost care.)

He keeps looking and looking, ignoring the swirling dread in his gut that keeps getting worse with each passing moment. Because it had got to be somewhere in here. No one could have stolen it. It’s impossible to break in to his workshop, and the only people who have access in here are Tony’s closest family.

So it has to be here. It has to.

(Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t.)

“—ny, Tony!” A hand lands on his shoulder, and Tony jerks away in surprise, hand instinctively flying up to repulsor his assailant even though there’s no armor around his hands.

His assailant — no not assailant, it’s Stephen — raises hands in a placating gesture, one hand reaching to gently hold Tony’s hand which was still held up in an offensive position. Tony deflates, his shoulders sagging, as he realizes there’s no threat.

“I was calling you, you didn’t listen,” Stephen says, reaching Tony’s face with his other hand, and traces a finger at Tony’s temple. His finger comes back with a bead of sweat. “What happened? What are you searching for?”

Tony swallows, and it is only now he realizes his body has cold tremors too. Stephen must feel that against his hands. Or does he? Tony takes a step away from his lover, extricating his hand from Stephen’s. “Nothing,” he huffs, and tries to calm his racing heart. Deep breaths, or something like that. “Nothing.”

Stephen steps forward, apparently not letting him escape as he gently grabs Tony’s hand again. “Well, clearly it’s not ‘nothing’, seeing as you’re searching for it like a PhD student searching for their thesis on the last minute.”

Tony snorts. “Is that what you did, lost your thesis papers and searched for them five minutes before viva?”

“Obviously not, I was well prepared and right in time. Don’t Deflect,” Stephen adds when Tony opens his mouth with another snark right on his tongue. “What did you lose?”

Tony swallows the tightness around his throat. Of course he can’t just tell Stephen that hey babe, surprise, I’m actually a selkie and I have this coat which practically half of my life depends on, because if I lose it I can never turn into a seal again. And now I have lost it.

No. For all that Tony dearly loves Stephen, he still can’t tell him that.

It’s an odd concept. Tony has trusted Stephen with his life. He trusts Stephen’s magic. He trusts this man with all his deepest, darkest secrets.

Well, all but the one, apparently.

One would think that by now, Tony would be ready to tell Stephen. But he can’t. He doesn’t understand why, but he can’t. Perhaps it’s the fear, the fear that had always been there, that never quite went away.

The fear of ending up like his mother.

She had loved Howard with all her heart, and Howard had betrayed her trust by locking away her pelt, coerced her to forever stay with him on the ground and never return to the sea. He had stripped her of her freedom, of her autonomy. He had stripped away a piece of herself.

But Stephen isn’t like that. Tony knows that. He loves Tony and would never do such a thing to Tony.

And yet..

Tony swallows hard as a thought strikes him.

Stephen wouldn’t... would he?

His eyes flicker to the inconspicuous couch, where his pelt was supposed to be, where it always is. Inside the most secure facility to ever exist in the States. A place which only Tony’s closest family have access to.

His closest family.

Would he?

There’s no way Stephen could have found out. Yes, he is a sorcerer. Yes, he has been to dimensions unimaginable and has met creatures beyond comprehension.

But Tony is nothing if not careful. For this one thing in his life, he has always been careful. And his mother had taught him well. She taught him the simple but infallible charm he always uses to disguise his pelt into a blanket, the only piece of magic he always drew comfort from before Stephen was in the picture.

Besides, even if, hypothetically, Stephen really does know and was the one to take Tony’s pelt, why is he not throwing that fact at Tony’s face already? Why isn’t he already dangling Tony’s freedom right in front of his eyes and driving him helpless with the knowledge that there’s nothing that he can do?

Or maybe maybe he wants to have a bit of fun first. Maybe he wants to watch Tony struggle, kick his hands and feet searching for his most important piece of possession. Maybe he wants to watch Tony crumble, slowly and painfully, until he’s nothing but a husk of himself.

..No, no, no!

He shakes his head to dispel the stupid devil’s whispers in his ears, because no. Stephen isn’t sadistic. Stephen isn’t sadistic. He loves Tony.

So he wouldn’t.. He couldn’t have..

Tony feels like he’s already crumbling. Falling apart.

He slides to the floor with his back against something, burying his head on his hands, hunching in on himself as his body shakes from the barely suppressed sobs. Maybe he is crying. He’s not sure anymore.

A trembling hand cups his knee, and he flinches, shrinking further into himself.

“Sweetheart, would you talk to me?” Stephen asks, his voice at its most gentle tone. Then another hand is on Tony, coaxing him to remove his hand from his head. The shaking hand carefully grips under his chin, making him look up.

And there Stephen is, sitting right next to him on the cold tiles, his eyebrows pulled in concern, his beautiful gray eyes fixed entirely on Tony, filled with so much worry and sorrow and love, as though Tony is his entire world.

His hand leaves Tony’s chin to wipe a stray tear off Tony’s cheek. “Tell me, what happened?”

God, how could Tony have ever thought that this man would hurt him in in such a way?

Shame and guilt twist in his gut, and he finds that he can’t look at Stephen’s eyes; eyes that are full of nothing but concern and love for Tony.

He wonders for a minute if he should lie, or make some excuse, but he simply has no one else to turn to. How can he turn away the only person who even wants to be here, wants to deal with the trainwreck of a man that Tony is?

“Have you.. seen the blanket that’s always there?”

Stephen turns to the direction Tony indicates with his hand, and blinks when he sees the couch. “The light chestnut one?” He turns back to Tony. “I just saw Peter huddled in it, in the common room.”

Tony’s brain freezes.

“You.. a blanket?” Stephen furrows his brow, glancing once at the couch, then shakes his head. “I don’t understand what—”

Tony bolts up on his feet and is already rushing out of the workshop before Stephen has finished his sentence. He is vaguely aware of his lover rushing after him with stumbling steps, trying to keep up with his pace as he makes it towards the common room. Maybe he calls after Tony. Tony isn’t sure. All he can hear right now is his own heart beating against the ribcage.

And then here he is in the common room, and there Peter is, sitting bundled inside the ‘blanket’ like a perfect burrito, on a small sofa, looking very content and on the verge of falling asleep.

“Hey Mr. Stark! Hey again Doctor Strange!” The kid chirps happily upon seeing the adults.

Tony closes his eyes and inhales a shuddering breath at the sight of his pelt. It’s safe. It was right here! “Kid, I’ve told you, that blanket doesn’t leave my workshop.”

Peter blinks, and the blanket around his loosens a little. “It’s really comfy.. and it kind of reminds me of you. Sorry! That sounds weird. You can have it back!” His words progressively come out in a rush as he wrestles himself out of it.

Tony huffs, even as his heart warms at the thought that Peter finds so much safety wrapped uder his pelt.

A selkie’s pelt is extremely personal to them. It is a part of their skin, and they do not allow just anyone to touch it. But Tony has never had a problem with letting his kid use it as a blanket.

Even if Peter will never fully know just how grand a gesture it is, of Tony’s trust in him.

Tony gratefully accepts the ‘blanket’. As soon as his fingers touch against his second skin, his insides fill with relief, a tangible proof that his pelt is here, safe, unharmed. He hugs it close to his chest. Some part of his mind reminds him to be subtle in the presence of company, and he wisely listens to it, easing up his grip.

“Here,” Stephen says, and Tony looks up to find his sorcerer encouraging Levi off of his shoulders, who all too willingly fly over to Peter and wrap him into another perfect burrito.

Right; it’s winter, and Peter just wanted something to wrap around himself, despite the indoors temperature always maintained a manageable level.

Tony’s pelt was never stolen. It was simply an innocent act, by an innocent child who didn’t know the significance of why Tony wanted this particular blanket always within his workshop walls.

Everything is fine. He would’ve even figured it out himself, if he had stopped freaking out for just one damn minute and had thought about it carefully...

Crisis averted, they wordlessly make their way back to the workshop. Tony can feel Stephen’s eyes on him, knows he has questions swirling left and right in his head. What’s so important about this particular blanket?

As Tony flops down on the couch of his workshop, his pelt in his lap, one hand rubbing the heavy exhaustion from his face, he contemplates what to tell. Should he just say that it’s heirloom? Or that it belonged to his mother. And so he’s attached.

He sounds lame even to himself.

Some small, barely audible voice in his head says that you should tell him the truth. This is your chance.

He buries his face in his hands, because he.. He can’t. He wants to, but..

A presence hovers right before Tony. He opens his eyes to find Stephen bending down to touch the ‘blanket’ in his lap.

Right, because Stephen is smart. Extraordinarily smart. He has a vast imagination and can view things from the wildest, most unthought of perspectives. And he’s a sorcerer with the knowledge of thousand different species of the supernatural, and million more spells & magic theories. 

So, really, Tony shouldn’t have been shocked by what happens next.

As Stephen touches the pelt, a wave of orange magic washes over it.

And the disguise falls away.

And there Tony’s pelt is, sitting in his lap, visible in all its glory.

Tony jerks away hurriedly, stunned, hands clutching onto his pelt like his life depends on it.

“Oh,” Stephen breathes. “Oh.” He covers his mouth with both hands in obvious disbelief and..

And fascination, Tony realizes, as he looks at Stephen’s sparkling eyes.

Maybe, maybe that would’ve made Tony feel a little better about all of this, if he had shown it of his own volition.

If he wasn’t feeling so utterly betrayed, for being stripped of his choice.

“I.. wow, I never could’ve even guessed until Today, Tony, you..” Stephen inhales slowly. “How did I not see the clues..” He mutters, mostly to himself.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly trying to advertise this, now, am I?” Tony’s voice comes out more snappy than he intended, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Because that fear.. that very thin possibility that Tony might just end up like his mother...

It feels too real now.

Stephen’s eyes flicker with something — realization, perhaps — and he takes a step back, gently raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to cause you distress. It was just a hunch, the blanket..” Stephen shakes his head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I thought...” He sighs, closing his eyes. “I’m going about this the wrong way.”

He then extends a hand to the side and spins a half-sized portal to life, giving Tony a sneak peek to Stephen’s room at the Sanctum through it. He does another hand gesture, one Tony understands to be a simple telekinesis, and an object flies in, the portal closing shut after.

The object, Stephen’s blanket, the one that always stays neatly folded on Stephen’s bed, a rich peacock color and fluffy to the touch, the one Tony always loves hogging when they’re sleeping together, that blanker, drapes itself over Stephen’s shoulders, and— Tony’s breath catches.

There’s no way.

In a shower of orange sparks, the deep peacock blanket changes into a blinding white, beautiful, feathery cloak.

A feather robe!

Tony stares, mouth agape, as Stephen runs a hand down his shoulder, smoothing the pristine white feathers. He doesn’t know what to think. He can barely comprehend what he’s seeing.

Stephen is a swan. His Stephen is a swan.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Stephen says, biting his lip. “I just didn’t know how. Or if you’d...”

If I would understand, Tony completes the unsaid words. If I would cherish that trust. If I would break it.

Tony can understand. God, for the first time in his life, he truly feels understood.

All this time, they were both just two scared, broken men, afraid of breaking further.

Tony takes slow, tentative steps towards Stephen, wanting to see his robe from up close, wanting to touch it, but he doesn’t think that will be acceptable.

Oh, but he does remember touching it, being wrapped in its warmth many a nights, even if it was in a disguised form. And now he can’t stop thinking about it, of all the times this man let Tony drape his feathers on himself.

But now that he knows, he wonders if that will change. If Stephen wouldn’t allow him to touch it anymore.

The thought sends a pang through his heart.

He should’ve told before. God, he should’ve told long ago. But he always chose to stay a coward. He wonders how much of uncertainty and fear he would’ve saved the both of them, if he had chosen to be brave, to be honest.

Walking around Stephen to view the beautiful robe from the back, he freezes at the sight.

Deep scars run vertically down the back, the feathers on those lines dead, deformed.

What he saw on the front was only a glimpse of the beauty that still remains, because the rest of it is hideous.

Just like his scars.

Tony’s heart pains, and he subconsciously reaches out a hand halting an inch away from the feathers. Oh, he wishes he could touch, but—

Stephen backs up, consequently pressing his robe into Tony’s extended hand. Tony gasps at the contact and looks up at Stephen.

Head tilted sideways so he could see Tony behind him, Stephen nods in a silent permission.

Tony swallows and runs his hands over the feather. They feel fluffy and incredibly delicate under his touch, and his heart flutters.

He moves on to the scarred lines, and realizes that the deformity of all the feathers isn’t directly related to the scars. Rather, they are spread out in a very different pattern of their own. Where that pattern emerges from, Tony really couldn’t tell unless Stephen was in his swan form. The feather robe is, after all, an abstraction of his swan hide, in the form of a cloak rather than the exact shape of wings. It’s the same with Tony’s pelt, it appears like a coat more than anything else.

But one thing is, unfortunately apparent.

Stephen can never fly again.

Tony’s heart breaks for this man.

“Do you.. want to touch my pelt?”

Stephen turns around and glances down at Tony’s hand where he’s still holding his pelt to his chest by a hand, and then looks up, hope blooming in his blue eyes. “May I?”

It truly is an odd concept. Only Today, Tony was spiraling down the train of thought of all the awful things Stephen might end up doing if he ever got his hands on Tony’s pelt. And now.. Now he is willing to hand his pelt to Stephen.

Because he knows now, knows with absolute certainty, that Stephen will never betray him.

He offers his pelt towards Stephen. Stephen carefully takes it, and Tony can’t help an involuntary shiver that runs up his spine at the feeling of another touching his pelt like this, without the disguise.

But it’s a pleasant kind of shiver.

Tony can see the awe and marvel in Stephen’s eyes as he so very gently handles the pelt, like it were a beautiful, delicate sculpture made of glass, and would shatter and one smallest mistake.

Stephen moves closer to Tony and drapes the pelt around Tony’s shoulders, straightening it around the shoulders as he murmurs, “It’s silky.”

Tony lets out a soft chuckle. “You don’t say. Yours is fluffier.”

“Well, yours is silkier.”

“Are we turning this into a competition. Cause I can point out twelve more qualities that yours—”

Stephen groans. “Tony, no.”

Tony huffs. “Fine, fine.” He places a hand over Stephen’s where it still rests on his shoulders, and Stephen brings them down so they can hold onto each other.

For a few moments they just stand in the comfort of the other’s presence. It’s.. truth be told, it is a lot to process. There’s just so much to understand here, so much that Tony hadn’t known about Stephen.

And there’s so much he still doesn’t know.

But that can change, starting now.

“So how come you live down here?” Tony asks, looking up at Stephen. From the little that Tony knows, swans are very different from selkies. Half-swans just cannot exist, the way Tony is half-selkie, because children born of a swan and a human never shed a swan robe.

Stephen’s eyes flicker away. Tony feels his body grow tense. “My robe was taken. When I was a child.”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath. “A child? Stephen..”

Stephen shrugged, not looking Tony in the eyes. “My.. the father who raised me, he found me and took my robe. Locked it away. I.. couldn’t find it even after his death. It wasn’t until I became a sorcerer that I searched it out again.” His pets a hand over his feathered shoulder. “And, well, by then I didn’t have much of a reason to go back.” Then, a little quieter, “Not that I would be able to, anyway.”

“Oh, Stephen..” Tony’s heart ached for his love. He had no idea that Stephen.. that he’d been caged all his life.

Just like his mother. Perhaps worse.

“Were you too..?” Stephen asks, finally looking at Tony.

“Christ, no. Well, not me anyway. Howard took my mother’s pelt.”

“I’m sorry,” Stephen says, and genuinely sounds so.

Tony huffs. “Well, we’ve both got quite the shitty life, huh?”

Stephen holds Tony close and leans his forehead against Tony’s. “Not anymore, I suppose.”

 “I’m the good kind,” He replied, making her breathe out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t realised she had been holding.

 “Can you get rid of the curse?” She asked but she was unsure if it was a curse. Still, she hoped he could.

 “I can,” He confirmed, nodding. She let out a sigh of relief again.  “I wouldn’t be a very good witch if I couldn’t but it will need a little more than an incarnation. Follow me… and keep hold of my hand. I can keep the effects of the curse at bay,”

 “R-Really?” Marinette asked, blushing a little. He was really cute after all. He nodded and gave her a soft smile before beginning to lead her through the shop before they came to the back of the store. He pulled across a curtain and led her to a table and chairs. “Have a seat,”

 “R-Right,” She nodded, sitting down. He let go of her hand, causing her to feel heavy suddenly. She frowned as he grabbed a bowl before he began to fill it up with plants. “Um… I’m Ma-Ma-Marinette by the way…”

 “Hello, Ma-Ma-Marinette,” He replied, smiling as he looked over at her before he turned away and added more to the bowl. Marinette frowned a little as it felt like he was mocking her. He didn’t seem that way at first but maybe he was. Maybe he couldn’t break her curse and was just playing with her. She looked back over at him, only to see that he was looking at her again. However, his expression had changed. He looked embarrassed and remorseful. “Sorry. I tend to make more sense with music. In fact… cisum s'traeh reh yalp,”

 Once again, Marinette found herself amazed as the soft sound of a guitar began to play, connecting with her on an emotional level. It was as if it was playing what she was feeling inside. She couldn’t help but close her eyes as she listened. Slowly, the melody faded out.

 “Did you enjoy the music?” He asked, making her nod. “I’m glad. Oh… I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Luka,”

 “It’s nice to meet you, Luka,” She smiled, causing him to smile back. “Can I ask how you did the trick with the music?”

 “Magic,” He replied, smiling. “But you’re still not sure,”

 “You're right… but it felt like… me,” She replied as he added another ingredient to the bowl before grabbing something that resembled a tiny club and began to grind the herbs. “Like what I feel,”

 “That’s because it was,” He replied, making her blink. “I’m an empath. I can feel people’s emotions and I use music to help me understand what they need. It’s the song from your heart that I had play. You see music is often simpler than words, Marinette,”

 “Wow,” She replied, amazed. Luka gave her a smile. She was starting to believe

 "Almost done," He replied, continuing to grind the herbs until they were nothing more than a fine dust. 

 "So what are the plants going to do?"

 "They are herbs that are used to break hexes and counter negativity," He replied, looking through the drawers. "The level of your curse is quite powerful so I need more than just the herbs. Did you offend anyone recently?"

 "Not that I can think of," She replied, causing him to frown. "How bad is the curse?"

 "Well, let's just say you probably should have come here sooner but it's a good thing you finally got here," He replied, taking out a jar and placing it on the table before going back to the cupboards. "Whoever cursed you knew exactly what they were doing," 

 "That sounds like it was intentional," Marinette replied, frowning. Why would anyone curse her? She tried to be a good person. Her parents taught her that manners were extremely important and to always help people. She tried to be a good person. She tried so hard. She felt tears fill her eyes but before she could cry, Luka knelt down in front of her.

 "Hey, been cursed doesn't mean that you're a bad person," He stated in a calm voice, gently taking her hand in his. Instantly, she felt calm.

 "But… then why was I cursed?"

 "It could be a number of things," He replied, making her blink. "Envy, Spite or just because they're just a nasty piece of work,"

 Marinette nodded as he gently squeezed her hand before getting up again. She couldn’t explain it but she just knew he could help her and that he was good. 

 "I can also send it back to the caster," He stated, making her blink as he took out some tea light candles.

 "But wouldn't that be a curse itself?"

 "No, it's simply returning the magic from whence it came," He replied, placing the candles in a circle around the jar before he turned on his heel and disappeared farther into the shop. Marinette frowned as her mind searched for a reason as to why she had been cursed. She replayed every interaction she could remember in her mind but nothing made sense. However, Luka returned from wherever he had gone holding another bowl. It was filled with what appeared to be ash that had been pressed down. He placed it on the table and took a seat across from her, adding a metal disc with a handle to it. Marinette watched as he poured the herb dust into it before picking up a brush and dusting it on the disc, shaping it. Once it was shaped, he carefully removed the disc. “This ritual I’m going to do is known as an uncrossing. It will draw out the dark magic that has been placed on you and then I will trap it in that jar. However, an uncrossing can be extremely uncomfortable so please try to relax your mind and don’t be afraid,”

 “O-Ok,” She replied nervously as he took out some matches and lit the candles. “Matches?”

 “Fire magic is not my gift,” He replied with a soft smile, taking out another match. “Are you ready?”

 “As ready as I can be,” She replied, causing him to nod before he lit the match, bringing it to the incense. It briefly caught on fire before it went out, causing smoke to flow. As soon as Marinette smelt its scent, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she began to shake as if having a seizure. The witch boy grabbed the jar as she let out a scream. It felt like her bones were being broken one by one and the pain was unbearable. Tears began to run down her cheeks and blood began to drip from her nose as she shook violently.

 “Enodnu eb esruc!!” He declared, causing her to let out a scream and throw her head back before a black smoke rushed out. Luka opened the jar, causing it to get sucked into it before he closed the lid and screwed it shut. Marinette flopped forward as she breathed in heavily. Luka put down the jar and moved over to her, gently placed his hands on her. She carefully looked up. “Sorry,”

 “N-No, it’s fine,” She replied, touching her nose. She felt tired and drained but at the same time, she felt better than she had been for a while. “But have you got a tissue?”

 “Of course,” He replied, pulling one out of his sleeve. She let out a little chuckle as he handed it to her. She gently wiped the blood from her nose and the tears from her eyes before looking over at the jar.

 “It really was a curse,” She replied, feeling her strength slowly return. In fact, she felt better than before. “Thank you, Luka,”

 “No worries,” He replied, sitting back down. Marinette frowned as she noticed he looked visibly tired. 

 “Um, are you ok?” She asked, frowning.

 “Oh… sorry,” He mumbled. “Spells on that level are very powerful and take a lot of energy. Especially given how power the curse was too,”

 “Someone really wanted me dead…” She frowned. “Oh god what if they try to harm you?”

 “Even if they did, it wouldn’t work,” He replied, reaching into his pocket and taking out a chocolate bar. He opened it and took a bite out of it, eating it. 

 “How come?”

 “I have protection,” He replied, tapping his silver bracelet. “A protection amulet. Keeps all kinds of evil away,”

 “How much would it be to get one of those?” Marinette asked before gasping. “And the ritual. How much do I owe you for removing the curse? I don’t have a lot of money but surely, I can give you something,”

 “No need for that, Marinette. I don’t charge for my services,” He replied, making her blink. “I don’t need the money,”

 “But surely you should get something,” She replied as he got up and picked up the jar. He walked over to one of the cupboards and placed it inside before closing it before he turned back to her.

 “Helping people is enough for me,” He replied, looking a little better. “Now I should definitely make you a protection amulet as the witch who cursed you will strike again,”

 “Oh that would be wonderful!” She gasped, smiling before she realised that it won’t be ready straight away. Even with his magic. “But what should I do in the meantime? They’ll curse me as soon as they realise, right?”

 “Luckily, I have just the thing,” He replied, getting up and offering his hand to her. She smiled and took it, causing him to pull her to her feet before he led her through the store, revealing it was literally bigger on the inside. She glanced around in amazement as he led her through it. It was filled with all kinds of wonderful things. From balls of lights that danced around to amazing creatures that she was sure belonged in a fairytale. In fact, she saw things that she was certain were from the fairytales. 

 “Are those Cinderella’s shoes?” She asked, glancing at the glass slippers. Luka smiled but didn’t answer. Instead he stopped and picked up a small box.

 “Here,” He stated, holding the box to her. She took it and opened them, revealing a pair of earrings that resembled a ladybug. “These are very special earrings that bring the wearer good luck. They should be able to counter the bad luck curse when the witch recasts it until I can make you the protection charm for you,”

 “Really?” She replied, causing him to nod. “Thank you so much,”

 “No worries, Marinette,” He smiled. “You should probably put them on now though,”

 “Right,” She nodded and placed the box down before taking out her current earrings. She placed them on the table as well then took out the ladybug earrings and put them in. Instantly, she felt warmth surround her. It was like a hug that encouraged her and made feel like she was going to be ok. It reminded her of the feeling she got when she made a new dress. Luka smiled gently at her.

 “They suit you,” He smiled, making her blush. “I do believe I would explain what wiccan and magic was,”

 “I think I have a rough idea now,” She replied. “But I like to learn more,”

 “I’d be more than happy to tell you,” Luka smiled before a light blush came over his cheeks. “Maybe over a coffee?”

 “Are you asking me out on a date?”

 “Would you be interested?” He asked, making her blush.