A/N: So it's a bit late. xD But today is Lucky Day! St. Patrick's Day = lucky = Lucky. xD This is what happens when a Tyki/Lavi obsessed fangirl searches for an excuse to celebrate her OTP. Hey- if Yullen gets a whole frigging week to itself, the least Lucky deserves is a day of its own (or a worship shrine). So yes, you can blame me for coming up with Lucky day. I just made a holiday that beats out St. Patrick's. And made a SUPPORT SHIRT for it too. 83
Also- please check out I Spaz With Pizzazz's Lucky Day fic that she made as well, Pinch. xD
Enjoy the Lucky. ;w;
Credits: Katsura Hoshino owns Lucky, though I am proud to say, I invented Lucky Day. xD Unless it's already existed. Then someone shoot me. Please.
Oh, and the quote from the summary is one by St. Patrick himself, though the story actually has nothing to do with God, Pleasure, or even Tyki's Noah. It was just fitting. xD;
Kiss Me, I'm of Mixed Race
"You don't have to be Irish to get it on."
"Lavi, are you Irish?"
The redhead clicked his locker door shut, turning to face the dark-haired senior curiously. "Not… completely," he pondered slowly. "Why, Tyki?"
The taller student shrugged oddly, and then walked away. "No reason," he tossed generically over his shoulder.
Watching the handsome man stride off, Lavi felt his stomach clenching in warmth. The two had been blatantly flirting with one another for almost a month now, so to speak, but the term 'crush' had never been applied, bringing with it something too juvenile for the relationship they held now. Still wondering idly what the older male's question had been relevant to, he sifted through his ancient memories, trying to remember what the nurses at the orphanage had told him. All he could prominently recall about his childhood spent in the orphanage though, was a rude boy who constantly stole his rice pudding during dessert…
Awakened from his toddler nostalgia, he blinked out of his uncovered eye, seeing a panicked freshman hurtling toward him. As the short figure grew closer, Lavi could clearly see the wide-eyed expression of one terrified Allen Walker. "Lavi, help, help!" He cried, wringing his arms wildly.
The redhead contained a chuckle of amusement, hoping that he had never been this jumpy during his own previous freshman year. "Schedule problems?" He asked knowingly, leaning against the lockers. As the silver head bobbed up and down frantically, the sophomore boy propped his arms up behind his head. "Sheesh, Allen, it's already the second semester—what's wrong with you?"
"Well, excuse me," the younger male snorted, extending his vowels, "for not having a freaky memory like you, but semester changes mean new classes."
"Alright, show me what you've got," Lavi demanded, holding out a hand for the schedule sheet.
After a moment of scrambling, the British boy slapped a crumpled paper into the outstretched palm. Scanning the sheet, the redhead inquired, "What hour changed?"
"This one," Allen answered, referring to first period. "I used to have Food For Thought, but now I have health."
"That's next to the school's indoor pool. Hurry, only a few minutes before morning bell goes off!"
"Ah, thank you, Lavi!" The white-haired boy burbled, running off. After a few steps, he faltered, and stopped Kanda, who was passing him in the hall. "Uh… Kanda, where's the school pool?"
The Japanese answered without missing a beat, "Go to the auditorium, take a left, and then two rights." As the freshman gave quick thanks, Kanda let out a soft 'che', finding his red-haired friend on the wall of lockers. "Good call. I can't believe Moyashi still thinks this school has a pool."
Shaking his head in mirth, Lavi straightened up, and headed off to his first period class. Health. Walking away, he lifted a hand in farewell to Kanda, and made his way to the classroom, which was most definitely not near any pool.
As he turned the corner though, a long, dark arm looped silkily around his waist, and Lavi felt his breath hitch in surprise, finding himself face-to-face with Tyki for the second time that day. Golden eyes blinked lazily down at him, and the older student asked quite seriously, "Are you British?"
The redhead stammered breathlessly, "N-not that I know of, but Allen is…"
"I don't care what Allen is," the brunet clarified coolly. "Nevermind, then."
The shorter boy closed his eyes as the other's soft lips descended, touching his eyepatch; and when he opened his lids again, the arm around his waist was gone, and Tyki was already striding down the hallway. Lavi blinked in growing curiousity, and would've pursued the man, if not for the reminder that the corridors were already empty, and everyone at their classes, as he should be, too. Smiling lightly while sprinting through the last few halls, the sophomore placed two fingers on his eyepatch where the other student's kiss had been, and unthinkingly, moved them to his own lips. It wasn't until he perceived what he was doing, that he snapped his hand back down to his side, and restraining a heavy blush, ran the last few meters into his classroom, just before the tardy bell chimed.
As he slid coolly into his seat, he smiled strangely to himself. It wasn't that they'd never acted that intimate before—Tyki was a shameless groper. But there had been something secret about that brief encounter in the hallway, and Lavi felt the difference clearly. So immersed was he in his ponderings, that when Allen burst into the classroom twenty minutes late, the redhead forgot to laugh at him.
On his way to his next class, Lavi felt a presence to his blind side, and a delicate voice whispered, "Are you Finnish?"
"Tyki—" before the dark-skinned man could escape this time, the redhead fastened a hand around the arm behind him, and tugged the owner of the appendage closer. "Do you need me to help you with anything? A project? You know you can just ask me…"
"Are you Finnish," Tyki repeated, soft lips ghosting over the sophomore's bare ear, smirking as the boy shuddered at the touch.
"How about Spanish?"
"I don't think—"
"Possibly—Tyki!" Lavi sprung two arms around the elder boy's torso, a bad idea as they were walking in a crowded hallway, making movement difficult, as voiced by the grumbling people around them. "Why do you need to know?" He insisted, ignoring his hostile classmates.
"I'm curious." Slipping free easily, the senior vanished into the throngs of students, leaving a dreadfully confused redhead behind.
"I know generally everything about most countries..! Tyki!" Brow creased in stymied dismay, the boy groaned, the questions bothering him for some reason. A rude punch on the arm awoke him though, and he turned around to find Allen walking along beside him, a growl on the boy's lips.
"Stupid Lavi, you jerk!"
Reminded of his prank and doing a quick personality shift, the boy laughed in mirth, hugging his friend consolingly. "Happens to everyone, Moyashi. But really, you're lucky it happened to you by your friends, and not some bloke giving you directions into some dark alley. You'd get raped."
"Bah, some friends," the British scowled, pulling out of Lavi's hug. "But anyhow—when are you going to give in to Tyki?"
The redhead lifted an eyebrow inquisitively at the freshman. "Give in to Tyki what?"
"About being I—" Slowly, Allen's lips curled into a cruel grin, and flames of sadistic intent rolled freely off of the boy. "You don't know?"
"Know what?" Lavi questioned in fatigue, his patience for mysterious inquiries running dry.
"What Tyki's planning…" the younger boy ventured cautiously, the leer on his mouth growing ominously.
"What's he planning—what the hell, Moyashi!"
"It's Allen! And let this teach you to misguide the amazing Allen Walker!" Before the older student could ask anything further, the white-haired boy lost him in the travelling packs of high schoolers, branching off into a side corridor with maniacal cackles echoing his exit.
This episode repeated itself several times during the day until lunch hour. Finally, sick of being constantly interrogated by Tyki, laughed at by Allen and even scoffed at by Kanda, Lavi was fully aware that he was missing out on something that was supposedly obvious.
"Moyashi, Yuu-chan!" The redhead slammed his hands down on their lunch table, receiving a wicked glower from the white-haired British and an abhorring death-glare from the Japanese.
"Don't call me that," they bellowed in unison, though sadistic glimmers could be deciphered, hidden on both his friends' faces.
"What the hell is happening, and why won't anyone tell me?"
"Che, Baka-Usagi, if you really can't figure it out on your own at this point, then I can't see how you should deserve the results Tyki has for you."
Lavi's good eye squinted, picking up the slightest details of their speech. "Deserve… results… Tyki… So it's clearly something that I have to 'earn', right? And it probably means—" his throat tightened slightly on his next words, "—he's going to take things further, isn't he?"
"BaKanda!" Allen wailed, smacking the black-haired sophomore mercilessly over the head. "You can't spill so much! Lavi's a human filter, remember? You'll give everything away, you moron!"
"Moyashi!" Kanda roared in reply, standing up suddenly in his seat. The crowds around the group's table quickly dispersed, smelling another tantrum from the violent student that they'd all grown to fear with an ill dread.
As the two broke out in brinkmanship, Lavi's peridot eye rolled toward the ceiling, and he stalked away, seeing that further conversation to the bickering two could only result in his own involvement in a full-out brawl. Having lost two of his sources of information, he could only be grateful for the little facts he had gleaned from the less-than-genius Japanese: Tyki was indeed striving to take their relationship 'up a notch', but knowing the handsome man's playful ways, Lavi would be forced to understand the series of questions he had received about his nationality.
The object of his thoughts appeared then, waving the redhead over to the table at which he sat with several of his cousins.
With determination to wrestle some more insight out of the senior if he had to, Lavi stormed toward the lunch table, fire in his uncovered eye. "Tyki. Tell me what you're getting at."
As expected though, the man ignored him, and only tugged his prey into the seat beside him, that damned seductive smirk on his lips. "Darling, come," he coaxed, fingers lingering perhaps too long on the redhead's creamy skin, earning an instinctive shiver of appreciation from the younger.
The other occupants at the table all stared incredulously at Lavi, as if appalled by some crime in choice of their family's object of fondness. There was Skinn Bolic, a jock cricket player; Lulu Bell, a demure, yet intimidating female; and two eccentric twins, Jasdero and Devito. He also knew of another member of this family—Road, a creepy little eighth grader from the middle school. Shifting awkwardly under their blank stares, the redhead wondered, not for the first time how motley collection of relations could have possibly been born under the same ancestors.
Tyki, not missing the redhead's appearance of discomfort, chuckled lightly, and pulled the boy into his lap, encasing him in warm arms. His laughs increased with Lavi's heartbeat, and he leaned in to graze lips over a pierced ear, "Are you Tunisian?"
As if electrocuted, the younger student turned abruptly in his captor's arms, and adjusting his eyepatch determinedly, demanded, "I don't know, Tyki, I never asked the people at the orphanage. But regardless—why do you keep asking me?"
At that moment, an outbreak of snorting cackles erupted all around the rest of the lunch table, and Lavi silently glared at the four other students, upset by the inside joke that nobody had been left out of but he.
Lulu was regally wiping away the remnants of the fountain of milk that had spurted out of her mouth and Skinn was just snickering to himself in all his brawny idiocy; but the twins weren't even bothering to feign manners, and simply leaned against one another, still jabbing fingers at the hapless sophomore, unstoppable whoops of laughter falling out of their throats.
Undeniably irked, Lavi returned his glare to Tyki, who was now covering his golden eyes as if shamed by his cousins' behavior, but was visibly shaking with humor himself. "Tell me," the Portuguese asked, "when you find out what nationality you are then, okay, love?"
Realization hit him like a cinderblock smashing into a stained-glass window, only instead of shards of his body ricocheting off around the hallway; it felt as if it was his brain that was exploding.
It was the last moment of the school day, and all the students were cheerily deserting the building as quickly as humanly possible, eager to leave their scholarly lives behind for another few hours. At that moment, while Lavi was stressing over still not comprehending Tyki's ethnicity questionnaire, a horde of girls all shyly approached him at his locker, tightly packed together and giggling nervously.
Trembling, the redhead resisted the urge to smash his face into the wall of lockers before him. He knew this group all too well—Kanda's fan club. As expected for a boy of Lavi's luck, all the unsociable Japanese's admirers conveyed their heartfelt desires through none other than their crush's best friend, including several wet confessions that had forced the redhead to take action and actually slam his own head in his locker door. No doubt they'd come in a revolution for something especially momentous this time. The best the pitiful boy could do was pray that it had nothing to do with 'I had a dream last night--.'
Boldly, the leader of the girls, a short, commanding brunette, stepped forward, and began confidently, "Lavi, we noticed today that Kanda-san isn't wearing any green… So could you kindly pass on all these love-filled pinches to him?"
Confused by the meaning of the girl's message, the redhead could only warily back up as the throng began to press in on him, effectively cornering him against the lockers. "Wait—what?"
As the first, brutal pinches pocked his frame, one of the girls squeaked, "And tell him that Anya from his econ class says Happy Saint Patrick's Day to my little Japanese leprechaun!"
That was the moment of enlightenment for the boy. Along with that fateful (yet admittedly ludicrous) greeting came a hundred other sayings to go hand in hand with it. His accomplished memory instantly plucked out the most obvious saying— 'Kiss me, I'm Irish.'
"OH." Cursing himself, his memory, these damn stalkers, Kanda, Allen, and of course Tyki; the redhead battled free of the cloud of Kanda-hungry girls, and bolted for the school exit.
Practical as ever, Lavi first flew to his school bus, and shouted pleadingly to the driver, "Wait just a few minutes! I need to do something."
The man at the wheel shouted angrily at his running back, but his threats to drive away fell on deaf ears.
The boy then raced toward the senior parking lot, eye searching desperately for the sleek, maroon car that belonged to Tyki. Said vehicle was already starting to pull away, and the redhead forced an extra burst in his step, skidding to a painful halt in front of the headlights. "Tyki—wait!" He panted, moving to the passenger's side, relief flooding his features that he had not missed this chance.
A smirk drew at the Portuguese's beautiful jaw, and he leaned over the adjacent seat to unlock and open the door, letting Lavi in. "Figured it out at last, didn't you?"
The sophomore flushed and nodded, mortified by his own stupidity and ignorance. Sliding into the expensive leather seat, he took in a breath, and then said with the utmost sureness, "Kiss me… I'm of mixed race."
An amused grin filled the elder's face at this unexpected ethnicity proclamation, but without delay or complaint, Tyki curled a soft hand around the redhead's thin jawbone, and tugged him in for a melting kiss.
Lavi's orb widened in shock at the senior's quick action, but restrained himself from pulling back in alarm, and instead succumbed to the desire that radiated out of both their slowly intertwining bodies.
The elder of the two males kept chuckling between breaths, tolerantly guiding his inexperienced redhead through the process, until the boy had a better idea of what such a gesture required.
"Tyki," he gasped, pulling away briefly. "You're so impatient," he criticized, though his fingers never relinquished their lacing through the dark, silken hair of the Portuguese.
Noticing this, the senior gave his teasing smirk, leaning in to leave a brief kiss on Lavi's reddened cheek. "It's been a month since I've been interested in you, pet. I've already waited more than long enough. And you know," he mused in a tangent, "I had rather expected you to admit to me that you were Irish…"
The sophomore absorbed these words thoughtfully, fingers curling in the irresistibly soft cascade of ebony hair. "But that'd be partly lying," he reminded the brunet breathlessly.
Tyki gave a hum of consolidating agreement, his own thumb tracing shapeless lines on the nape of Lavi's neck. "Yes. Now, your bus is already leaving—would you possibly be in need of a ride home?"
The redhead laughed lazily, watching as his passing bus driver glared at him in scorn through the window shield. "Yeah, I'd like that, I think."
Gently pulling the younger boy's head to rest on his shoulder, he possessively cradled the smaller form, whispering seductively, "You do realize that 'a ride home' only goes after making a quick stop at my own house first?" He let out a pleased snicker, feeling the boy in his arms stiffen at this implication. "Oh, no need to fret—we won't be doing anything you don't want to. Just a lot more than you would've expected on a first outing, my little mixed-race rabbit."
Lavi winced at this new nickname, but decided that, in the almost overprotective hold of Tyki Mikk, he'd possibly get used to it. After all, it certainly sounded a hell of a lot better than 'my little Japanese leprechaun.'