The red haired boy’s body tiredly pushes the door to the dark room as silently as possible, cringing when it betrays him with a loud screech. It’s late already, very late. You know how Luka is, like the human form of an excited and hyperactive puppy, and when he says he’s not gonna take long at the club you can bet your ass he will. One match always leads to another. And another. And another. He loves to spend his time fighting until his muscles feels sore and his robotic arm needs fixing, but at the end of the day, it’s worth it being able to come home to you, which is why it makes him upset to see you laying down in bed without him, even when you’ve told him a million times you don’t really mind him being home late, it doesn’t make him feel much better.

Luka carefully slips in the warm bed with you, embracing your waist with his arms. He should probably get up and clean his wounds, but your embrace is so comforting he doesn’t really care about infections in the moment. His mind wanders about how you’d scold him if you were awake, and look adorable doing so, it’s when he realizes you are, in fact, very much awake. And here he though he was being so smooth entering in silence!

“Please tell me I was an idiot and woke you up and you weren’t awake waiting for me.” Luka places soft little kisses on the comforting curve of your neck. This really is his favorite place in the world. Well…after the fight club.