A/N:Written originally for the Professor Layton Fan meme. Prompt: Legal wants Layton, Luke keeps interfering, Legal pushes him away, it messes with his past, no longer wants Layton. I wrote it to try writing something multi-chaptered again to test myself.

Huge Note: This chapter is butchered because it originally contained porn. If you would like to read it in it's entirety (which I think is better), you can find a link to my Adult Fanfiction (dot)net account on my profile here.

The conversations at night he held with himself always began with annoyance. They ended with lies. The boy should already be asleep. Save for the occasional mystery, the boy was always sent to bed an hour earlier than his mentor went to bed. The boy shouldn't be awake. His older self didn't want him barging across his path.

True, the Professor could lock his door, but Luke knew the man wouldn't ignore his young apprentice's urgent knock, no matter how trivial the reason for interrupting.

Luke realized that yes, it was too good to be true when the man had said in reaction to Luke's request, “You may come to my room.”

He knew Luke too well. He was sure that the past version of himself would stall him. They had both noted the nasty looks Little Luke gave his future self. Layton had once commented under his breath that the child had become more demanding since the other had arrived. He said this while running a hand through his hair, as if expecting gray strands to catch between his fingers.

Tonight's conversation began in annoyance. It continued into bribery...

“I'll do anything for you. Just please go to bed,” Luke begged of his younger self.

The boy looked doe-ishly at him. A grin shattered his innocent expression. “Anything? You must be desperate.”

“That's not the point!” the other fumed. “I'll do anything, okay--” he paused, realizing a flaw in his plans, and added: “except I won't stop my own escapades into Mr. Layton's room.” It was hard to call his mentor by such a formal name, but he was bent on disguising himself from Little Luke-- even if the Professor said they were obvious.

“No.”

“No,” Luke muttered under his breath and racked his brain, raked his hand through his hair and pulled at the ends. “You have to want something. Think.”

“I don't need material things. I just want the Professor's approval,” the boy huffed.

“Heh. And you think the professor will think you're a mature young man if you sleep with him at the slightest fright? Or if you disregard his rules? He sends you to bed for your well-being you know.”

“I know, but--”

“If you knew, then that's worse.” Luke hid his grin as the boy scuffed his heel against the floor and clutched his teddy bear tighter, suddenly under the thumb of the older boy's reasoning.

“Look.” He kneeled to his younger self's level and held him by the shoulders, acting out concern. “I'll fetch you a glass of milk and tuck you in.”

“I want a story too.”

“I'll even read a story to you. About baseball.”

Luke stood up and led the boy to his room, his fingers on his back as they walked. On his way towards the kitchen, Luke glanced towards Layton's room, which had the door cracked open. He hoped, prayed, begged that this would settle the youth down. Milk sloshed on the floor on their trek back, When he arrived back in the familiar baby-blue room, he shifted back into his kind, calm demeanor. He set the cup in Little Luke's hands and sat in the chair next to the bed. On the nightstand was a book already picked out. He read until the boy fell asleep, positioned awkwardly against the headboard, head against his shoulder and the empty glass cupped loosely in his hands.

Luke picked up the cup and pulled the covers over his shoulders. Tempted as he was to shift the kid into a more comfortable position, he refrained, worried that he would wake himself.

He forgot to clean up the spilled milk, his immediate attention on Layton. He was still holding the glass as he knocked on the door.

“...Luke?” The reply was groggy.

“Professor, it's me.”

Silence fell in the dark room. When the professor spoke, there was clarity in his voice. He was wide awake, prepared to dodge his full-grown apprentice's advance. “Luke, it's late.”

Luke wouldn't allow him to debate. He set the glass on the bookshelf on the way in and invited himself onto the bed. Before the man could say another word, he grabbed him by the front of his pajama shirt and kissed him.

“Luke,” Hershel protested against his mouth.

“I've thought it over, I promise,” Luke said, assuming his mentor's thoughts. “In fact, I thought about it constantly when I first realized it.”

“Is that so?” Layton tested.

“It is,” Luke said, grabbing the man and rolling him on top of him. “In fact, I denied it for the longest time before I thought it over.” He gasped, pleasantly shocked by the professor's lips against his jugular, and then teeth caught on his ear.

“This is what you want?” Layton whispered, serious, still hesitant despite his previous actions.

Luke pulled him closer, "please." He begged.

X

Little Luke dreamed about a man's fingertips nudgeing the back of his shoulders and the gentle countertenor reading aloud- then whispering in his ear.