storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-01-28 02:42 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-01-28 02:42 pm
Exploring (Luke gen)
Title: Exploring
Crossover: Professor Layton
Length: 776 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: So watching the Coraline trailers I want a Layton crossover of sorts, [...] a story similar to Coraline like Luke [...] discovers an "Other Professor" with button eyes.
Pairing: Luke gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Luke darted into the kitchen, and there he was at the stove, wearing that familiar top hat. He bit his lip and felt like he would cry, suddenly. This was a dream, then. He'd fallen asleep over homework or something like that. Layton was still in Britain.
Luke missed London, the professor, and puzzles-- but not in that order. He missed Layton the most. The man had been his constant companion and mentor for so long that their friendship was ingrained into them, pressed into their minds like an old habit, and just as hard to break.
He missed Layton; he missed their small but cozy home and the way the Laytonmobile skidded around corners, and the familiar weight of his bag at his side.
He didn't like America very much.
Luke supposed that it was probably wrong not to like his parents. Or to like his mentor more than them. But it seemed like in his absence that they had gone far away from him, instead of the other way around. They seemed to forget they had a son, and his father was always, always working.
America was a place of opportunity, he was told. Luke observed that America was a place where the rich lived alone and the poor crammed together, sharing houses, stepping in each other's faces every day, and striving, striving, striving toward a possibly-unachievable goal.
Human motivations-- now that was a puzzle, right there.
He went to school and made his own dinner afterwards and spent the evenings exploring the townhouse they rented with three other families. He was hoping for a quiet place where he could write letters to Layton, begging him to take him back.
When he found the tiny door in the wall, he thought it was a dumbwaiter. The door's lock was rusty with disuse, but it wasn't difficult to pick. (The tumblers turn this way, there's three certain clicks, and there...)
But it wasn't a dumbwaiter-- it was a tunnel. He stuck his head in curiously and listened.
There was silence, and then, very faintly, a meow.
Luke couldn't resist the call of an animal, and with only a glance around to see if anyone was wandering past (they weren't), he climbed into the tunnel and followed it down and around, crouching on his hands and knees until he found the end of it.
There was a cat there, licking himself with a self-satisfied air. When Luke appeared, he looked up for a moment, and then gave himself one final lick before striding off ahead with his tail in the air.
Luke hesitated to follow. The room was large and empty and dusty with disuse, and he couldn't hear anyone. How could this place be connected to his noisy townhouse?
But the cat seemed to know where it was going, so after a moment, he spiked up his courage and followed.
"What a puzzle," he mumbled to himself.
*
The cat padded down the narrow hallway and turned a corner, and when Luke turned the corner, he felt...
...like he was in his house again. The furniture, and the decorations--
Was this some sort of dream?
But no, it was... brighter, somehow. Cleaner? No, his mother kept the house clean, but...
He heard the whistle of a teakettle and whipped around. He was in someone else's house.
"I'm so sorry!" he cried out, and heard a strangely familiar laugh.
"Luke, my boy, would you like some tea?"
Luke darted into the kitchen, and there he was at the stove, wearing that familiar top hat. He bit his lip and felt like he would cry, suddenly. This was a dream, then. He'd fallen asleep over homework or something like that. Layton was still in Britain.
"Yes, Professor," he said, his voice somewhat shaky, and he sat down at the table, because even if it was a dream, it was good to see Layton again. He knew that he had missed him, but he hadn't realized how much until he'd found himself in the man's presence again. Layton poured the tea and Luke relaxed in both body and mind. The professor was good at making him feel at ease; their relationship was like a comfortable coat that fit in all of the right places, worn at the elbows, but still valuable. And Layton always made him feel needed, feel valuable, feel adult. His parents seemed bewildered that the runny-nosed little boy they had sent off for education had returned as a near-adult. Maybe that was part of the reason they ignored him-- confusion.
Layton poured both cups and added sugar without asking-- he knew Luke's taste. And then he turned and Luke looked up eagerly into a favorite face.
And that's when he really, really knew this was a dream, because where the professor's eyes should be, there were buttons.
He bit down on his lip and didn't notice when it started to bleed.
Crossover: Professor Layton
Length: 776 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: So watching the Coraline trailers I want a Layton crossover of sorts, [...] a story similar to Coraline like Luke [...] discovers an "Other Professor" with button eyes.
Pairing: Luke gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Luke darted into the kitchen, and there he was at the stove, wearing that familiar top hat. He bit his lip and felt like he would cry, suddenly. This was a dream, then. He'd fallen asleep over homework or something like that. Layton was still in Britain.
Luke missed London, the professor, and puzzles-- but not in that order. He missed Layton the most. The man had been his constant companion and mentor for so long that their friendship was ingrained into them, pressed into their minds like an old habit, and just as hard to break.
He missed Layton; he missed their small but cozy home and the way the Laytonmobile skidded around corners, and the familiar weight of his bag at his side.
He didn't like America very much.
Luke supposed that it was probably wrong not to like his parents. Or to like his mentor more than them. But it seemed like in his absence that they had gone far away from him, instead of the other way around. They seemed to forget they had a son, and his father was always, always working.
America was a place of opportunity, he was told. Luke observed that America was a place where the rich lived alone and the poor crammed together, sharing houses, stepping in each other's faces every day, and striving, striving, striving toward a possibly-unachievable goal.
Human motivations-- now that was a puzzle, right there.
He went to school and made his own dinner afterwards and spent the evenings exploring the townhouse they rented with three other families. He was hoping for a quiet place where he could write letters to Layton, begging him to take him back.
When he found the tiny door in the wall, he thought it was a dumbwaiter. The door's lock was rusty with disuse, but it wasn't difficult to pick. (The tumblers turn this way, there's three certain clicks, and there...)
But it wasn't a dumbwaiter-- it was a tunnel. He stuck his head in curiously and listened.
There was silence, and then, very faintly, a meow.
Luke couldn't resist the call of an animal, and with only a glance around to see if anyone was wandering past (they weren't), he climbed into the tunnel and followed it down and around, crouching on his hands and knees until he found the end of it.
There was a cat there, licking himself with a self-satisfied air. When Luke appeared, he looked up for a moment, and then gave himself one final lick before striding off ahead with his tail in the air.
Luke hesitated to follow. The room was large and empty and dusty with disuse, and he couldn't hear anyone. How could this place be connected to his noisy townhouse?
But the cat seemed to know where it was going, so after a moment, he spiked up his courage and followed.
"What a puzzle," he mumbled to himself.
*
The cat padded down the narrow hallway and turned a corner, and when Luke turned the corner, he felt...
...like he was in his house again. The furniture, and the decorations--
Was this some sort of dream?
But no, it was... brighter, somehow. Cleaner? No, his mother kept the house clean, but...
He heard the whistle of a teakettle and whipped around. He was in someone else's house.
"I'm so sorry!" he cried out, and heard a strangely familiar laugh.
"Luke, my boy, would you like some tea?"
Luke darted into the kitchen, and there he was at the stove, wearing that familiar top hat. He bit his lip and felt like he would cry, suddenly. This was a dream, then. He'd fallen asleep over homework or something like that. Layton was still in Britain.
"Yes, Professor," he said, his voice somewhat shaky, and he sat down at the table, because even if it was a dream, it was good to see Layton again. He knew that he had missed him, but he hadn't realized how much until he'd found himself in the man's presence again. Layton poured the tea and Luke relaxed in both body and mind. The professor was good at making him feel at ease; their relationship was like a comfortable coat that fit in all of the right places, worn at the elbows, but still valuable. And Layton always made him feel needed, feel valuable, feel adult. His parents seemed bewildered that the runny-nosed little boy they had sent off for education had returned as a near-adult. Maybe that was part of the reason they ignored him-- confusion.
Layton poured both cups and added sugar without asking-- he knew Luke's taste. And then he turned and Luke looked up eagerly into a favorite face.
And that's when he really, really knew this was a dream, because where the professor's eyes should be, there were buttons.
He bit down on his lip and didn't notice when it started to bleed.