Candyland (candyfics) wrote,

Learning from History, ch. 8 (PL)

Title: Learning from History, ch. 8
Fandom: Professor Layton
Word Count: 3326
Genre: Drama/Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton. Or his top-hat of awesome.
Teaser: Things never look the same by the morning's light.

The rest of the night was a bit of a fog. Lucas could remember the press of the Professor’s lips, the taste of a tongue pressing against his, the feel of fingers tangling in his hair, and the heady realization that the best kiss of his life was not coming from a girl, but from his teacher. His mentor.

He fell asleep on the floor of the tent, curled against the warmth and feeling those gentle fingers ghosting over his hair, his face, and the faint taste of tea and mint still on his lips, and the strange sensation that he was crying again, even though he had no idea why…

But when he woke up, things looked a little different by the light of the morning sun. And he should have expected that, along with the aching back from sleeping in such an odd position on such an uncomfortable surface. His neck was so sore that he could barely move it, and every muscle screamed in protest as he tried to do something as simple as sitting up.

A moment later, he glanced around the tent and realized that there was more amiss than just his aching joints. Both cots were gone, along with his bedding and the bag it had been packed into. The only thing left was a pillow (which some thoughtful soul had placed beneath his head) and the bag holding his clothes and things. All of the Professor’s things were gone.

…somehow, Lucas did not think that this was a good sign.

Still, he changed out of his pajamas and into daywear as quickly as his sore, aching body would allow. He felt physically well rested, but mentally he was tired. And intellectually, he knew that today was going to be difficult. At the very least, it would be awkward.

Sticking his head out of the tent proved him right.

Leighton was in the packed Jeep, sitting sideways on the driver’s side with his legs hanging out the door. His head was leaning against the back of the seat, and his eyes were closed. He looked tired, and he actually seemed to be murmuring to himself, if the small movements of his mouth were any indication. But Lucas couldn’t hear what, if anything, he was actually saying. Not until he crept a bit closer and heard soft snippets of it. Words like ‘idiot,’ ‘fool,’ and the like.

It startled Lucas to realize what the Professor was saying: he was actually reprimanding himself.

At a loss, Lucas cleared his throat.

The result was immediate. Leighton jumped a mile, sitting straight up in the seat, and blinked owlishly at Lucas, now standing a mere couple of yards away. Lucas looked right back at him; for whatever reason, he was completely unafraid of meeting the Professor’s eyes squarely. He was, however, afraid of what he might find when he looked there.

And what he found was shame and worry and a hint of something else that he didn’t dare try to name. But most incredible of all was the one thing he had expected to find there, but now didn’t see. And that one thing was…


There was absolutely no regret there at all.

Which meant…

“Good morning,” Lucas said. Strange how calm he felt now.

A flash of surprise at the casual greeting. “Good morning,” the Professor said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Lucas said, moving to put his bag on the back of the Jeep. “You?”

“…not terribly well.”

“If you need me to drive part of the way, I can. Just tell me,” Lucas said, heading back towards the tent. Where was this casualness coming from? How could he act like this when just thinking about what had happened the night before sent his stomach doing back flips that would make most gymnasts jealous. “Should we get the tent taken down?”

They quickly disassembled the tent and got it packed away and back into the Jeep. There was little conversation to be had during that endeavor. Leighton seemed content to look almost everywhere except for directly at Lucas, and Lucas’ mind was drifting back to the night before and the dreams and the conversation and the kiss that had just turned his world upside down.

But soon enough, they were back in the Jeep and driving out towards the site. Leighton drove, while Lucas rode shotgun. And this time, the silence between them was heavy, thick with things neither dared say aloud. It was the most tension there had ever been between them. And it stretched on for ages; probably well over an hour was spent with the two of them riding in that awful silence.

Finally, Lucas just couldn’t take it anymore. He turned to look at his mentor and asked, “Why won’t you talk to me? No, better yet, why won’t you even look at me?” It was only now that a thin spiral of anger began to uncoil itself inside him, but he kept himself as neutral as possible.

Leighton still did not look at him. But he did answer. “I should not have done that. You were upset. We were both upset. It was taking advantage of you and of our situation. To say nothing of it all being completely unethical.”

“Unethical?” Lucas barely bit back a laugh that suddenly bubbled in the back of his throat, but he just found the whole thing completely ridiculous. “When are feelings ever ethical, Professor?” Feelings. That was a dangerous word to use. “And you didn’t take advantage of me.”

“I did—“

“I’m nineteen. I’m an adult. I’m legal,” Lucas said bluntly. “And I can make my own decisions. I made a decision last night. And,” he took a deep breath, “I don’t regret that decision. I stand by it.”

“You’re too young to understand.”

“Too young. That’s a hell of a thing to say.”

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s an excuse,” Luke snapped, his temper breaking for the first time since he had woken up this morning. “Because whatever is going on in your head right now is something you don’t want to face or discuss or figure out. I don’t know why, but Professor, I don’t think you really regret it. I think you regret the difficulties it might cause, but I don’t think you regret the action itself. No matter what you say.”

“Lucas,” Leighton interjected, his voice the coldest the young man had ever heard it. “Enough.”

After a moment of tense, awkward silence, Lucas felt like he had to do something. And what he needed to do right now, desperately, was just get away. Get away from the Professor and his anger and why he couldn’t just say what he thought anymore.

It was then that Lucas did one of the stupidest things he had ever done in his life. He unbuckled his seatbelt, ignoring the Professor’s startled question as to what he was doing. There were no doors on the Jeep, so from there it was a simple matter of shifting to swing his legs to the side of the seat…

And he jumped out of the moving Jeep.

As he hit the ground, he landed hard and tumbled away from the vehicle. It hurt, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken or damaged, and he was able to actually get up and start stumbling away. He heard the screech of brakes, and the Jeep’s engine died, and footsteps running towards him through the brush, which he ignored in favor of trying to walk away and just get some distance—

A hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

“Lucas!” Leighton barked. He was no longer the calm, collected, pleasant man he always appeared to be. Right now, he was livid, visibly alarmed at the admittedly stupid thing Lucas had just done. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Were the situation any less precarious, Lucas probably would have taken a strange amount of pleasure in the fact that he had managed to crack that façade and get the man angry. Right now, it just made him angry himself. “Let go of me!” he demanded, trying to pull his arm back in spite of the fact that it hurt. His arm hurt, his leg hurt, his head hurt, EVERYTHING HURT, and he was angry and needed to get away because this was just too much right now…

“You’re acting like a child—“

That was as far as Leighton got before Luke, desperate to just get away and have a little distance between them, hauled back and took a swing at his teacher. The hit made contact on Leighton’s arm, and was hard enough to startle the man into letting go.

But he recovered quickly, and Lucas found himself being grabbed by the front of his shirt before he could take more than a couple of steps backwards. He heard his name loudly, angrily, but paid it no mind. He hooked a leg behind the Professor’s and pushed, knocking him backwards to the ground. But this time, Leighton did not let go, and Lucas was pulled down with him.

The struggle went on for minutes, pushing and pulling and striking out at each other, until finally Leighton managed to get a solid grip on Lucas’ wrists and push him back down, straddling his stomach to use his own weight as leverage, and pinning his arms to the ground over his head.

“Leggo,” Lucas growled, pulling at his arms.

“Calm down!” Leighton said harshly. “You’re not acting like yourself. Calm down!”

Suddenly it was like all the fight went out of the student, and he slumped back into the dirt, his panting for air a match with his mentor’s. His glare, however, was no less venomous for his lack of a struggle, even though his eyes were starting to feel very damp.

And they just sat there like that for what felt like an eternity, glaring and gasping…

The minute Leighton’s hands loosened their hold on Lucas’ wrists, Lucas moved. He grabbed the front of the Professor’s shirt and pulled him down against him to catch his lips in a harsh, bruising kiss, wrapping his arms and legs around the man as best he could to keep him in place.

…and Leighton was kissing him back.

This was nothing like it had been before. The night before had been slow, sweet, comforting, rather a test of boundaries that were being knocked down one by one. This was nothing like that. This was fierce and hungry and desperate and without a care as to those boundaries.

And there were no signs of the reservations the Professor had held to so closely since their first terse exchange that morning. He was pressing Lucas’ head back down into the ground, making all sorts of noises that did precious little to put Lucas off. If anything, he wanted to hear more of that.

What happened next happened very fast.

Lucas remembered clawing at the Professor’s shirt (and god, he was still mentally calling him the Professor, even now), feeling hot skin beneath his hands, and something hardening between his legs. And then there were hands grappling at his waist and the front of his pants, and he was pretty sure he groaned out loud as he was exposed to the air and drawn out by long, careful fingers.

…and then the Professor actually hesitated.

“…oh, fuck no,” Lucas growled, grabbing the man and dragging him right back down into another hungry kiss with one hand while his free hand fumbled with the front of Leighton’s jeans as well. “You are not stopping now.”

That was the end of that little discussion as he finally succeeded in getting a hand into the Professor’s pants, effectively ending whatever protests the man might have tried to muster up.

Pants were shoved aside, bodies were pressed together, and they both just began to move. Some distant part of Lucas’ mind that was detached from everything that was happening made a note that this probably wasn’t as satisfying as proper sex would be.

But at the same time, awkward as it was, the frantic, animalistic thrusting was just too good to be easily brushed aside as hot flesh rubbed against hot flesh and lips found lips, necks, ears, and tongues were doing incredible things as everything began to build…

Lucas couldn’t even think anymore. Just move and feel and moan and god…

It didn’t take long. With a few hard thrusts, Lucas heard himself cry out as something warm and wet splattered against his stomach (when had his shirt…oh, never mind, it wasn’t important), and a warm tingling pleasure raced through his entire body. A moment later, he heard the Professor make a similar sound (but god it sounded more delicious coming from him), and felt the man tense…

And then Leighton slumped against him, his face pressed to Lucas’ neck as he mumbled something. Lucas wrapped his arms around the Professor and held on, closing his eyes and just letting the feelings and sensations override everything else…except for the feeling of the man in his arms, his breathing and his warmth and his heartbeat.

They did not move for quite some time.


If either of them had thought that the aftermath of the kiss was awkward and difficult to navigate, they had obviously thought a little too soon. The kiss was nothing compared to this.

For what felt like a very long time after it was over, they both just lay there, pressed against each other as the haze and pleasure and everything wrapped around them and hide the world away. But sadly, all such things much come to an end, and as that haze wore off, reality clocked back in, and they realized where they were and what they had just done.

Even something as simple as getting redressed was difficult. Neither of them dared to look directly at each other as they pulled clothes back into place and tried to clean up the resulting mess. And eventually they both climbed back into the Jeep, looking relatively presentable in spite of the fact that they both still felt a bit sticky.

Neither of them spoke for a very long time. Leighton drove, his face completely blank and void of expression, his eyes straight ahead. Lucas rode in the passenger seat, as before, but his eyes stayed straight out to the side, away from his teacher. Before this had happened, with the aftermath of the kiss, he had been angry. Angry at feeling like he had been brushed aside, at being told he was too young, that he did not understand…


…now he just felt guilty.

Because Leighton had made it fairly clear that there should not be a repeat performance. He had more or less said that considering all the facts and everything in the situation, this was wrong. And with that statement, the man had pretty much indicated his intention to leave it at the kiss.

And Lucas had behaved like a petulant child. He had gotten worked up and thrown a tantrum, and look what had happened. He’d practically forced the Professor to the ground, and after the struggle—

He had kissed him again. And everything had come and gone from that second kiss.

There was no question as to whether or not it was consensual. Oh no, there was no doubt about that, and he was fairly sure that neither of them would ever contest it. The Professor had been as willing a participant as Lucas himself was. This was not forced. They both wanted it.

The guilt, as far as Lucas was concerned, lay in the fact that he had started it, despite the Professor’s indicated wishes that nothing more happen between them of such a nature. It was strange and amusing and terrible all at once, Lucas thought, how one of the most exhilarating and delicious things he had ever done could also be one of the most horrendously guilt-wracked moments of his young life.

And they had been riding in silence for far too long, to the point where he almost wanted to jump out of the Jeep again. But the dull ache in his leg reminded him that he had been very lucky about that the first time, to have escaped without injury. To try again would be tempting fate in a way that he did not even want to attempt. And besides, hadn’t he already done enough to the Professor?

…although he nearly smiled at the mental image of the Professor driving away and leaving him there in the brush. Why he smiled, he was not sure. Perhaps it was simply that he wouldn’t blame the man.

But he needed to say something. He was supposed to be there as Leighton’s assistant, and if they were not on speaking terms, it was going to make for a very difficult, very long summer. And more than anything else, truth be told, Lucas really did miss the conversation.

He swallowed hard, thought very carefully for a moment, and then spoke up. “Professor?” His voice cracked harshly, and he nearly winced at the sound of it.

Leighton actually jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion into the awful silence. “Yes, my boy?” he said. The familiar phrase gave Lucas some hope, and the Professor’s carefully controlled tone of calm seemed like it could be a good sign. Maybe, just maybe…

He took another deep breath and began to speak. “You’re in a room, and you have only one match. You have a choice to make. You can either light the lamp to light the room, the fireplace to warm the room, or the candle to carry with you. Which do you light first?”

A puzzle. The first brick in the bridge that had brought them together. It was a risk, but still…

There was a long pause. Lucas could almost hear the gears turning in the Professor’s head, though his expression stayed completely neutral for quite a time. Just when Lucas was about to tell the Professor to forget it, he was kidding, and let that tense silence lapse again, he heard a noise.

Was that…?

…the Professor actually chuckled. And a very small smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“The match, my boy,” Leighton said. “You’d light the match first.”


“We’re almost there,” Leighton said. There were, indeed, lights in the distance.

Once that first puzzle had broken the ice, there had been conversation of a quiet kind, mostly trading riddles and mindteasers. It had kept things from getting tense again, kept them both calm and talking. Now as the site was approaching, something had to be said.

Surprisingly, this time it was Leighton who said it. “Lucas, whatever happened back there…” he paused, nervously, then said, “We have to…I mean, we need to—“

“Professor, I’m not going to breathe a word to anyone,” Lucas said. He smiled brightly, feeling like himself for the first time in nearly a day. “And I’m really looking forward to working with you on this. So don’t worry about that, okay?”

He wasn’t sure if that was exactly what he was going to be asked, but it certainly seemed to be enough. “Thank you, Lucas,” Leighton said. “I think we’re in for a very interesting summer.”

…somehow, Lucas couldn’t help but wonder if the Professor was solely referring to the excavation.

But as they arrived on the site, he was pleased to see other people around. That was a good thing, definitely a good thing. And it looked like there would be no further need for tents, either, as there were rows of campers and similar vehicles along one edge of the clearing. Whoever had been organizing this was definitely on top of their game.

And hey, he could stand sharing a camper with the Professor. Nothing else would happen.


Tags: character: layton (hershel), character: luke, fandom: professor layton, fic: learning from history, misc: au, misc: chapter-fic

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