Chapter Text
1. the Land of Pécho
4 Avril 2019 | Jeudi 21h12
There's nothing worse than being roused from an unplanned nap. Well, some things. But not that many things. Lucas groans awake to an urgent tap tap tap on his door, feeling approximately as cheerful as a mummy.
"Hey kitten! Kitty-cat!"
Beside him, Eliott snuffles and presses more closely against his flank, quite asleep and infinitely charming. Lucas refrains, therefore, from actually yelling. "Mika? What?"
Mika is evidently unable to hear Lucas over his own crescendoing voice. "Kitten!"
Cursing, Lucas throws himself from the bed, thrusts himself into what turn out to be Eliott's joggers, and, pulling at them to keep from tripping over the hems, lurches toward the door. "What do you want," he hisses, shutting it behind him as he crosses the threshold.
"Ah, I thought you'd died in there," Mika grins, as though it were not clear that Lucas is three seconds away from headbutting him in the jaw. "Your turn to load the dishwasher, mon petit."
*
Eliott is blinking up at him with a little smile when he finally returns, grumbling. "All right?"
"Sorry to wake you," replies Lucas, flopping backward onto the pillows. "Blame it on Mika."
"I thought you were either doing a little evening karate in the kitchen, hi-ya!" Eliott chortles, "or imitating Pavarotti." He slides an arm around Lucas's middle and tugs; they tussle and laugh until every bit of bedding is on the floor except for the fitted sheet, pulled free from the mattress's corners and bunched under them. "Well, which was it?" Bobbling his head, he flicks the waistband of the joggers. "You also pilfered my pants, I see."
"Be quiet and kiss me already," Lucas says, a bit breathless, putting his hand on top of Eliott's. He can hear Mika loudly and rhetorically asking Lisa in the living room if she thinks Lulu and Elly will ever be seen again, or if they've been lost permanently in the Land of Pécho.
But it's not too hard to ignore them.