Chapter 177: Pinned Down by Jordan
The cheerful clatter of plates filled the small kitchen, not because Luca was genuinely careless, but because he wanted Noel to know he was suffering—and he wanted that suffering to be heard.
He stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, wielding the yellow sponge like it was some kind of weapon he’d been forced to carry into battle.
"This is cruelty," he muttered, running the sponge over a ceramic plate in slow, exaggerated, sulky circles. "Pure, calculated cruelty."
From the small kitchen table, Noel leaned back in his chair, watching him with an expression that hovered perfectly between fond exasperation and open affection. "You’re acting like I asked you to chop wood for the winter."
"Wood doesn’t squeak in protest," Luca countered, lifting the plate dramatically to inspect his own distorted reflection in its wet, glossy surface. "Listen—do you hear that? It’s the sound of porcelain begging for mercy."
Noel’s laugh slipped out before he could catch it—a soft, warm sound.
He shook his head, stood, and came up behind him, arms folded loosely across his chest. "You’re unbearable," he said, his voice low but layered with unmistakable warmth.
"Unbearably charming," Luca corrected, tilting his head just enough to flash a brilliant, knowing grin over his shoulder.
Noel rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth curved upward, betraying his true feelings.
He reached past Luca, plucked the checkered dish towel off the counter, and brushed it lightly against Luca’s damp hand. "Hurry up. Before you manage to flood the entire kitchen."
Luca glanced down at the water already pooling around the base of the sponge, then looked back at him with mock offense. "Distracting me while I perform skilled labor is highly irresponsible. You’re jeopardizing the structural integrity of this entire operation."
Noel only arched a brow, that steady, grounding gaze of his making Luca’s theatrics crumble into dust.
The plate slipped back under the soapy water with a soft plunk, and Luca’s tone softened, dropping to a murmur barely above the sound of the tap. "...Fine.But only because it’s you."
The faucet hissed softly, a steady stream of warm water running as Luca attacked another plate with exaggerated, comical care.
He narrowed his eyes at it as if it had personally wronged him.
"You know," he said, half turning his head so his voice would carry, "if you really loved me, you wouldn’t subject me to this kind of torture."
From beside him, Noel unfolded the dish towel with calm, practiced precision. "If you really loved me, you’d stop whining and just finish the job."
That earned him a scoff. Luca dunked the plate back under, watching the bubbles rise as if they were laughing at him. "You’re crueler than the dishes."
Noel didn’t answer. He simply reached over, slid the freshly rinsed plate from Luca’s hands, and began drying it with efficient, sure strokes.
The motion was so natural, so unceremoniously helpful, that Luca stilled for a full second, watching the way Noel’s fingers moved across the porcelain—steady, sure, and strangely careful.
"...Hey," Luca said softly, almost losing the thread of his own performance. "You weren’t supposed to help."
"I didn’t say I wouldn’t," Noel murmured, stacking the dried plate neatly onto the growing pile beside the sink. "I just said you should wash them."
Something warm and easy uncoiled in Luca’s chest. He turned back to the sink, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So you’re my partner in crime now?"
"More like damage control," Noel replied dryly, already taking another wet plate from him.
For a comfortable while, the kitchen was filled with only the soft clink of dishes, the gentle hush of running water, and the quiet rhythm of their shared task.
Their shoulders brushed once, then again, and Luca leaned into it the slightest bit, as though drawn by a gravity he didn’t want to name or fight.
He let out a quiet, real laugh, not looking at Noel this time. "You make even chores feel... not so bad."
Noel’s hand stilled for half a second before he set the plate down.
His lips curved into a faint, private smile, though his eyes stayed on the dish towel. "That’s because I don’t whine my way through them."
Luca finally glanced sideways, his grin widening, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble. "Or maybe it’s just because it’s you."
They finished the last dish with a quiet, final clink, Noel setting it carefully on the drying rack.
Luca stretched his arms high above his head, groaning dramatically as if he’d just completed a marathon.
"Freedom," he declared, tossing the sponge into the sink with a wet splat, as if discarding his greatest enemy.
Noel shook his head but said nothing, tugging the towel off his shoulder as he walked toward the living room couch.
Luca trailed closely behind him, collapsing onto the soft cushions before Noel even had a chance to sit.
"Finally," Luca sighed, dropping his head back against the cushions and letting his eyes slide shut in feigned exhaustion.
Just as Noel lowered himself onto the other end of the couch, a soft, familiar weight landed in his lap.
His cat—silent and supremely smug—curled into a perfect circle without a moment’s hesitation.
Luca cracked one eye open and let out another groan, this one more theatrical than the last. "Seriously? He gets the prime spot?"
Noel’s fingers immediately began brushing through the cat’s soft fur with lazy, affectionate strokes. "You lost it the second you started complaining about the dishes."
"That was trauma," Luca said, sitting forward with mock offense. "I deserve comfort. Emotional support. A dedicated cuddle zone."
"Then go adopt your own cat," Noel suggested, not looking up from his pampering.
Luca leaned over, closer than was strictly necessary, eyes narrowing playfully at the feline curled so contently against Noel’s leg. "He doesn’t even like me."
The cat merely flicked a white-tipped ear, utterly unimpressed.
"See? He’s mocking me. Right in front of you."
Noel’s lips twitched, betraying the faintest smile. "Maybe he just knows I needed the company more than you did."
Luca went quiet at that, his dramatic posture softening.
He shifted back but didn’t put any real space between them, instead letting his shoulder press lightly against Noel’s on the cushions.
His voice dropped, lower and quieter, losing its performative edge.
"...Guess I’ll settle for second place, then."
Noel didn’t answer right away. He just glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
The corners of his mouth curved again, subtle and knowing, as though he’d heard more in those five words than Luca had ever intended to admit.
The cat purred loudly, kneading its paws into Noel’s lap like it owned the place—which, in its mind, it certainly did.
Noel absently scratched behind its ears, his eyes fixed on the small, rhythmic rise and fall of its fur, while Luca let his head rest fully against the back of the couch, studying Noel’s profile in comfortable silence.
A few peaceful minutes passed before Luca let out a slow, contented breath. "You know..." His voice was quiet, thoughtful, stripped of all its usual bravado. "This feels like home already."
Noel glanced up, caught by the rare softness in his tone, but Luca pushed himself to his feet before Noel could form a response.
He padded toward the balcony, stretching his arms high against the door frame as the golden morning light spilled over him, setting his hair aglow.
Noel stayed where he was, the cat a heavy, purring warmth against his legs, watching as Luca lifted his phone.
A faint, almost silent shutter click sounded.
Luca turned the screen toward him with a boyish grin. "Relax, I didn’t catch your face. Just the cat, the couch, the beautiful mess we made of breakfast."
He tapped quickly at the screen, adding it to his social media status. "Our new place," he muttered, almost to himself, though Noel heard every whispered word.
Noel shook his head, biting back a full, unreserved smile. "You really had to announce it to the entire world?"
Luca leaned against the sun-warmed balcony rail, the light catching the gold strands in his hair. "Not the world," he said, his eyes lingering on Noel, bright and sincere. "Just... the people who matter."
The cat shifted in Noel’s lap, but Noel’s gaze stayed locked on Luca—his chest tightening at how carelessly, almost unconsciously, Luca was stitching them together, claiming this new life they were building as theirs.
Luca had just tucked his phone back into his palm when it buzzed, the screen lighting up with Jordan’s name and a goofy contact photo.
He smirked, thumb swiping across to answer.
"Yo," he greeted, leaning comfortably into the balcony rail.
"Yo? That’s all I get?" Jordan’s voice came through loud and mock-offended through the speaker. "Unbelievable. You move into a palace with your lover and you forget your best man already?"
Luca rolled his eyes, though a wide, fond grin tugged at his lips. "Palace? Please. It’s three floors up, no golden gates, and I had to drag my own suitcase up here. Hardly royal treatment."
"Uh-huh," Jordan drawled, skepticism dripping from the word. "And yet you’re smiling like a man who just signed divorce papers with his old dorm room. Admit it—you got married and didn’t even invite me."
Luca barked a laugh, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity. "Married? Don’t spread that garbage around, my dad will have a heart attack."
Jordan chuckled, a rich, familiar sound, then his tone shifted just enough to slip some genuine curiosity through the tease. "So? How’s it feel? Not living out of a shoebox with other dudes yelling through the walls at all hours?"
Luca glanced inside—where the faint, domestic sound of a cabinet closing told him Noel was putting the last of the dried dishes away. He softened a little, his voice lowering. "Feels... different. Good different."
"Location?" Jordan asked, his tone shifting to sly. "In case I need to crash your honeymoon spot."
"Over my dead body." Luca snorted. "I’ll drop you a pin later. You’re not getting free breakfast out of Noel."
As if summoned by the sound of his name, Noel padded out onto the balcony, drying his hands on a dish towel.
His brows arched slightly at the sight of the phone pressed to Luca’s ear. "Jordan?"
Luca’s grin widened. He reached out, tugging Noel closer by the wrist, and pressed the phone to speaker. "Yeah. Guess who’s whining about not being invited to our fake wedding?"
Jordan’s laugh burst through the line, bright and booming. "Ah, Noel! Congratulations, man. How’s life with this disaster? Still hiding socks under the bed?"
Noel’s mouth twitched, a battle against a smile he was clearly losing. "It’s survivable." His tone was deadpan, but the warm crinkle at the corners of his eyes gave him away completely.
Luca groaned loudly, tossing his head back in despair. "Survivable? That’s all I get? After I suffered through dish-water hands for you?"
"High praise, considering," Noel teased softly, the words just for Luca.
Jordan wheezed with laughter through the phone. "Oh, I like him. He’s got the patience of a saint and the humor of a guy who knows exactly what he’s gotten himself into."
Luca threw his arm around Noel’s shoulders, pulling him into a loose, dramatic side-hug. "Traitor. You’re supposed to be on my side."
"I am," Jordan replied smoothly. "But I’m also rooting for the guy who’s gonna keep you from accidentally starving to death or wearing mismatched shoes in public."
Noel chuckled, a low, pleasant sound, and leaned a little into Luca’s side without thinking.
The morning air curled around them, easy and unhurried, as Luca fired back another half-hearted protest, Jordan laughing too loud on the other end, and Noel simply enjoyed the show.
Jordan was still laughing when his voice shifted into something sly and knowing, like he’d found a weak spot he couldn’t resist poking. "Alright, fun and games aside—drop me the location. I should at least know where you two lovebirds are nesting."
Luca groaned, tipping his head against Noel’s shoulder as though the request alone was a monumental burden. "Man, you just wanna freeload off my fridge. I know your game."
"Damn right I do," Jordan shot back without a hint of shame. "Better than raiding the dorm vending machine for dinner. That’s a cry for help, and you know it."
Noel’s lips curved into a subtle smile as he watched the familiar back-and-forth, quiet amusement shining in his eyes.
He didn’t interfere, though—just let Luca squirm, his own arms crossed loosely as if he were curiously waiting to see how long it would take.
"You’re impossible," Luca muttered finally, thumbing through his phone with dramatic reluctance. "One day I’m gonna seriously regret this."
"You regret everything," Jordan replied, his voice dripping with knowing confidence.
"Not everything." Luca glanced sidelong at Noel, his grin going crooked, softer around the edges now.
That earned him a faint, amused huff from Noel, though the tips of his ears tinged a telling shade of pink.
"Fine, fine," Luca sighed, stabbing at his screen with exaggerated effort. "Sending you the pin now. Don’t you dare show up unannounced unless you’re bringing takeout. Good takeout."
"Ohhh, you’re asking for it now." Jordan’s voice came through smug and victorious. "Pin received. Got it. I’m in the system."
"You’re the worst." Luca dragged a hand down his face, though the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed any real annoyance.
"Love you too, bro," Jordan said, far too gleefully.
"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sentimental on me now." Luca tapped the call closed before Jordan could swoop in with the last word, tossing his phone onto the small patio table with a soft clatter.
For a moment, the balcony held only the distant, comforting hum of morning traffic and the faint, content mewl of the cat still curled near the sliding door curtains.
Noel tilted his head, giving Luca a sidelong look filled with fond skepticism. "So... you are prepared for him to actually show up now, right? At any hour?"
"Prepared?" Luca scoffed, sliding an arm around Noel’s waist again and pulling him in with a familiar, comfortable smirk. "No. But if he brings decent food, I’ll forgive him."
Noel’s chuckle was low and warm, the kind that slipped out entirely unguarded. "You’re incorrigible."
"And you like me that way," Luca murmured, leaning in too close, sounding too smug, yet all of it was softened by the way his thumb brushed absent, gentle circles against Noel’s side.