A/N: They say the best relationships are ones where you can learn from each other and become better versions of yourselves xD And they both still have a lot of growing to do :3 But we'll get there. Change is a gradual process.

Also, I think I'm going to start downsizing the chapters? Unless you guys are fine with hella long ones. Up to you.

Hi Guest! OC means original character and AU means alternate universe (in other words, not based on canon material)!

Thank you for the kind reviews and the comments left on the previous chapter! I appreciate you guys being patient with me and sticking with this story even though I do updates once in a blue moon! You all are so sweet and I honestly am grateful for every single one of you! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own GMW, buuuuuuuuut I do love tiramisu! That has to count for something, right?

It was strange.

Lucas never expected he would get used to Maya Hart so quickly. But gradually, he stopped being thrown off by her closed off attitude. Ever since she'd finished another chunk of commission pieces, she'd become more relaxed and way less agitated though he wouldn't necessarily call her pleasant. Lucas had grown a little passive, not really expecting anything from her and wondering if maybe she wasn't as bad as his mind had thought she would be.

Sure, they got along (read: tolerated each other). But it was like the two of them were hanging by a thread at all times and even the smallest thing could set them off. They usually kept to themselves except for Maya popping up whenever she smelled dinner when he made it or if she asked him if he wanted takeout when he was working late.

She was like a cat. She spent all her time napping until she smelled food and then she slinked out to the kitchen before retiring to her bedroom or the couch once again. If he bothered her, he knew the claws would come out. Since they didn't tend to cross paths altogether readily—something he suspected was a conscious effort on both of their parts to not break the tentative truce—he grew more comfortable living with Maya.

They had been talking a little more. They still didn't run into each other often enough to have real conversations, but sometimes she would ask him questions about work or ask what was for dinner. And on especially good days for her, she would actually smile at him instead of smirk or sneer like she usually did.

Zay thought Lucas complained too much and that he should be grateful that at least he had a hot roommate. Lucas appreciated her looks—he did; she was beautiful—but Maya was still a difficult person, and he hadn't yet cracked the code on how to handle her when she got a little rough.

But he supposed in their calm, Maya must have developed a certain level of comfort as well. Because the horror stories started, though they crept up on him before he could even see what was coming.

It was small things at first. She left trash in places around the apartment, slowly turning the living room into her second bedroom if Lucas didn't hurry up and clean it up before it got too messy. But before Lucas knew it, Maya was completely different than how she was when he first met her. And not in a good way.

Maya was not just a slob. She was the queen of the slobs and so utterly lazy at times he questioned how she'd survived to adulthood. And it was honestly terrifying to see her gross habits starting to creep up in their shared spaces like the kitchen sink, and the bathroom, and especially the living room. The apartment was slowly becoming his worst nightmare, and Lucas was close to snapping at Maya to clean her shit up. There had to be some way to make her do what she needed to do.

Lucas walked into the apartment, wiping his brow of the sweat with one of his towels, feeling satisfied after he'd finished his jog in the park for the afternoon. It had been refreshing, a great cool down for a workout after a long day working and the weather had been just perfect. A slight heat reflecting the impending summer, but not hot enough to be stifling. Unsurprisingly, Maya was lounging on the couch in her typical large knit sweater, boredly flipping through channels.

"You're up," Lucas said, partly in surprise, partly in greeting as he tossed his keys in the bowl on the table beside the door.

Maya sat up, alert, giving him a quick once over. "Where'd you go off to? Hot date?"

He rose a brow, heading over to the fridge to grab a water to hydrate. Lucas did find it kind of weird that she was curious to know. It definitely wasn't in Maya's nature to inquire about his personal life like that. She seemed pretty wrapped up in what was going on in hers.

"I went out for a jog."

"Oh. What's for dinner? I'm hungry."

And there it was. The only reason she had an interest in conversing in the first place. But it was an improvement. And at least she wasn't grunting at him like some bear.

He uncapped his water, nearly chugging down half of the bottle. "So you waited for me to come back instead of making something for yourself or ordering out? How logical is that?"

"Trust me, you don't want me to cook. And Riley said I should budget my money more, so no takeout for the rest of the week." Maya rested her chin on the edge of the couch, giving him a puppy dog look. "Can you please make dinner? I'm really hungry."

Lucas sighed, opening the freezer and pulling out the lasagna he'd layered and prepped yesterday for tonight's dinner. He set the oven to the proper temperature to preheat.

"It'll take about seventy minutes to cook."

"I can wait. I'll just watch a movie or something."

"Or you know… do a round of laundry," Lucas drew out, eyeing Maya's pile of dirty, paint stained clothes in the living room in disgust. "I'm heading over to the laundromat in a bit."

"Cool," she said in disinterest, clearly ignoring his subtle jab.

"Are you not going to clean your clothes?"

"They'll get dirty again within a week." She shrugged, going back to channel surfing apathetically. "Why bother?"

Lucas' jaw almost dropped in shock. Was she really that blasé about cleaning clothes? How could she possibly be okay with rewearing old, sweaty clothes with dead skin flakes and dirt and grime and dust and who knew what else from her room. It was appalling.

"Gee, I dunno…" he drawled sarcastically, gesturing to the pile resting against the wall near where Maya kept her small paint station, "there's a fucking pile of dirty laundry that's making my eyes water? When was the last time you cleaned all of this stuff?"

"You get used to the smell eventually."

"Whatever you want to do in your room isn't my business, but we share this space." He opened the oven and set the lasagna on the center rack. "I don't care how things worked before, but I am not living in an apartment that smells like shit."

"Good. Then leave," Maya said, turning up the volume on the TV.

Fists clenched and irritated by her dismissal, Lucas strode over, leaned down, and snatched the remote right from her hand. Before Maya even reacted, he had the TV shut off. The room fell almost dangerously silent, Maya sitting stiffly, her back ramrod straight and jaw clenched. She turned around slowly, glaring at him, her eyes looking like molten steel.

"You want your ass kicked?" Maya said calmly. "Keep holding on to that remote, Huckleberry."

"I'm serious, Maya. You need to do your laundry."

"And you need to give me back that remote." Maya stood up, trudging around the couch and coming around to where Lucas was standing, her hand held out expectantly. "Now, Sundance."

He could sense the bloodlust in her expression, but this was not something he was going to back down on. Most times, it was easier to just let Maya have her way, but he refused to live in an apartment with dirty laundry hanging on surfaces with that scent of musk at every corner. Maya generally smelled good and Lucas wasn't opposed to the scent of a woman permeating the apartment, but B.O. infested clothes were out of the question.

"Not happening," he said, turning so he was facing her directly.

Lucas took one wide step back away from couch and held it way over his head. Sure, there was a possibility that Maya might try to use her nails on him, but he wasn't too scared of her. She was vicious when she wanted to be, but he was starting to think that Maya was only putting on a façade to guard herself.

"I mean it. I'm not afraid to hurt you!" She jumped up a couple times, trying and failing to reach the height he'd set. It was kind of funny in its own way, though he didn't dare laugh out loud. "Especially if you're making fun of my height!"

"I don't think you—"

She stomped on his foot angrily, and Lucas nearly yelped from the surprise shock of pain, grimacing though he kept his hand up. Clearly he'd underestimated her complete and utter lack of restraint.

"Would you just chill a second?!" Fuck, his foot was throbbing! For being so small and probably light, she'd been unbelievably ferocious in her attack. "You're being unreasonable. All I'm asking is for you to wash your clothes. Seriously, think about what it will be like to have guests over? Do you really think they'd want to hang out at a place that smells like a locker room? What if… what if your landlady randomly stops by one day? You're still trying to get on her good side. I don't think a pile of dirty laundry in the main room is going to help matters much."

He was kind of grasping for straws there, but one of his tactics had to work on her. After a few seconds of glaring at him, Maya sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Fine," she conceded with an exaggerated eye roll. "I'll do my damn laundry, but I don't know where the laundromat is."

He rose an incredulous brow. "You've lived here this long and don't know the apartment's laundromat is about a block down the street?"

"So?"

"…Have you ever washed your clothes?"

"Riley always did our laundry." Maya grumbled under her breath, looking a little bit embarrassed.

He snorted, tossing the remote control back on the couch. "What are you, a child?"

"What?" She snapped, heading to the small pile of clothes and stooping to start picking them up. "We each had our designated tasks in the apartment. She handled all that stuff."

Lucas looked away, pretending he hadn't just seen a glimpse of her panties under her giant sweater. "What we're yours? Let me guess: making sure Riley had dinner ready for you on the clock?"

She paused in gathering her clothes, giving him the evil eye over her shoulder.

"You're annoying."

"And you're a slob, Maya."

Lucas headed down the hall to get his own clothes to clean. Honestly. He couldn't fathom how it was so easy for her to ignore the huge mess. Had she lived in mess for so long that she was immune to how disgusting it was? Lucas couldn't imagine not cleaning his clothes at least every two to three weeks. His workout clothes, he cleaned every week, never rewearing the ones he'd used.

Peeling off his sweaty t-shirt, he tossed it in his laundry basket before rummaging in his dresser for something clean to wear.

"I'm not a slob." She called out from the hallway. "You're just uptight. Besides, my skillset was more along the lines of a handyman…"

Lucas turned around to find her staring at him unabashedly, brows a bit raised. He definitely caught the slight look of approval in her gaze. Was she checking him out? Part of him wanted to ask, but there could be unforeseen and horrible consequences if he got it wrong. And Maya seemed like the type of person to make fun of people for life.

"Do you have a bag for your laundry?" he asked, amused by her reaction but fighting his smirk.

"Does it look like I—"

He rolled his eyes, tossing her one of his smaller laundry sacks before she got into another one of her verbal tirades. She caught it deftly, shutting up in the process from the unprecedented toss.

"You'll need some change in quarters so grab that too." Lucas pointed out, pulling on his clean shirt. He grabbed detergent and then picked up his basket. "And something to entertain yourself for the wait."

"Yes, Mom."

~.~.~

LeBlanc's Laundry, the apartment affiliated laundry center was fairly empty when they walked in and Lucas headed over to a few of the machines in one of the emptier corners. He liked this place a lot. And since they lived in the apartment complex, they got a discounted price on loads.

"It smells great in here." Maya took a big, satisfying sniff of air. "Like fresh linens."

"So could your clothes if you only washed them more often."

She rolled her eyes. "Dudley Do Right."

"Short little stack of pancakes."

Maya sneered at him. "I don't like you."

"The feeling is mutual," he said, going through his loading process on autopilot through his mind. "Anyway laundry isn't that hard to do. You don't need to dump extra detergent in the machine to clean the clothes. It's pretty efficient on its own. If something has a tough stain, smear some on the stain then toss it in the machine. There are optimal temperatures and heats for different types of— are you listening to me?"

Maya tossed everything into one machine, poured a bunch of detergent in it, and slammed the lid closed.

"No. How hard can this be?" She dug in her purse for coins. "It's tossing clothes in, putting in the detergent, choosing the settings, and paying. I don't need a self-help guide."

"There are more economical ways to do laundry. You just used a shit ton more detergent than you needed."

"And if I wanted those economical methods, I would have asked. Seriously, Mr. Anal Retentive. Relax a bit," Maya grumbled under her breath, giving him a weird look as she started her machine. "Your explanations are unnecessary. Just tell me the basics, and I can get it. I'm not stupid." She jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "And don't you dare say 'could've fooled me' or any kind of equivalent or you'll end up in one of these machines."

He frowned but backed off a bit, knowing that he was getting a little overzealous about it. He couldn't help it though. He was a perfectionist, and Maya Hart herself was the anti-thesis of perfectionism. Just watching everything she did gave him hives. It was definitely something about himself he was hoping to cool off a bit in his new start, but old habits were hard to break. Especially after he'd just watched her put everything in one machine without care as to what could possibly get damaged by other cloths in the heavier setting. Maya was aggravating his attempts by being so damn indifferent.

"Fine," he finally replied.

What was it with her that she just didn't give two shits about anything she did? It bugged him. Lucas shook his head in disdain but continued to sort his clothes in his different machines, making sure any whites weren't accidentally tossed in with colour. He closed both lids and put his coins in the dispenser. Beside him, Maya dug through the laundry sack, a confused frown on her face.

"Crap. I left some stuff in the bag. Hey, can I put my things in your load?"

"Sure, I guess."

Maya opened one of his machines, stuffing the items in there and folding his clothes around it to cover it up. She gave him a thumbs up once she closed the machine back up and he started it.

Lucas honestly didn't know how he had ended up doing laundry with Maya Hart of all people—he didn't think Zay would ever believe him if he told him Maya had never done laundry before—but he supposed it was better than them fighting over who got the TV whenever he came back from work and she was sprawled on the couch. And she had looked genuinely interested in the whole process, a curiosity on her face as she set the knobs to a certain heat and what kind of wash she wanted. It was strange. She kind of seemed like a little kid, taken on a new adventure for the first time.

What kind of childhood had Maya led for going to a laundromat to be like a kid getting a lollipop? Her childlike excitement was kind of cute, though he would never tell her to her face, lest he get another stomp on the foot. Or punched.

"So what now?" Maya asked, yawning as she hopped up on a dryer nearby and kicked her legs back and forth.

Once again, her sweater rode up and Lucas averted his gaze when he caught a peek of blue, trying to be polite. Did she ever wear pants? In all the time he'd lived with her, he hadn't seen her wear pants once. That was apparently her thing, but it was precarious and every time she moved too much, she flashed her panties.

He cleared his throat, leaning against the adjacent machine and checking his emails. "We wait to move it in the dryer."

Her face scrunched in annoyance. "How long is the wash?"

"About 30 minutes. An hour to dry."

"Urgh. Too long. Wanna get gelato?"

"Gelato?" Lucas asked in confusion.

"At Amato's. An old Italian couple owns it. Best place to get gelato in SoHo." Maya hopped off of her machine and pointed to the building across from the laundromat. "I used to go there with Riley whenever we got into fights. I didn't realise we were across from it."

"I didn't know there was a gelato place in this area."

"Huh." Maya smirked. "So know-it-all Huckleberry doesn't know it all after all."

"I'm new to this place. I've only driven down this way a few times. What's your excuse?" His eyes narrowed. "You've lived here for years but you still didn't know where the laundromat was, yet it was right across from the gelato place you apparently frequented. Are you oblivious to everything you don't deem important or something?"

"Hey asshole, you really want to pick a fight right now?"

"I'm just stating facts," Lucas responded, feeling a spike of irritation. Did she always have to be so combative for every little thing? "And you definitely started it."

"How did I know you were the type to bring up who started what? What are you, a child?" she said derisively, adopting near the same tone he'd said the words with earlier.

"You just always have to have the last word, don't you?"

"So do you."

Lucas glowered at her, but Maya said nothing, staring up at him impassively, her eyes gleaming with that playful twinkle that never seemed to leave her person, even when she was being vicious. He was tempted to respond when she rose a brow, looking like she was challenging him and goading him to respond, but he refused to get roped into her stupid games. Why did he get the sense that Maya thought this verbal warfare was fun?

"Ha, I win," she murmured when he didn't answer.

That did it.

"Do you always have to be so patronizing? This isn't a competition, you know?"

"So why did you respond?" she sassed.

Lucas let out a long breath, willing himself not to let her words provoke him into another response. She was clearly seasoned at badgering people to the point of utter frustration and quite frankly, he didn't have time for that shit. He'd already played right into her hand.

Maya started laughing, heading on her way out and giving Lucas no choice but to follow her.

"Let's go, Huckleberry."

~.~.~

Amato's was definitely a high tier ice cream place. The place had a great scent of rich chocolate and the aroma of vanilla bean and nuts. The prices were a little high, but then again, it was gelato. He could tell this was a place that didn't really have college kids and teens hanging around. Maybe that was a good thing. He could easily see some misguided teen hitting on Maya and then getting his teeth knocked out.

Lucas wasn't really a big fan of ice cream, but he had to admit it was pretty good. He'd said as much and Maya had grinned from ear to ear, looking quite pleased with herself. Her goofy sense of pride had made him smile unintentionally. Though he was still irritated with her. She apparently didn't have her wallet so Lucas ended up having to pay for her, something he believed was a calculated move on her part.

But overall, he did have to admit that sitting across from Maya at one of the tables, he wasn't as annoyed as he had been with her all afternoon. It was kind of cathartic, kicking back and enjoying ice cream on a hot day.

Maya's voice brought him out of his lethargic thoughts.

"So why did you move to New York?" she asked without prelude.

"Really? Because if I recall correctly—and I do—the last time I tried to explain you all but shat in my face."

Maya hid her smile behind a spoonful, clearly thinking their first meeting was hilarious. "The circumstances were different."

"Right…" Lucas said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "My mom and stepdad live here."

"Yeah, but what was the catalyst?" she pressed. "I get that you're probably a Momma's boy, but usually people don't pack up their whole lives and move to a new state just because their parent lives there. Plus, it seems to me like you really love Texas. I mean you've got like ten cowboy hats in your room."

He frowned, clearly detecting the mocking edge to her tone. "...I have three."

"Doesn't make it any better." She snickered. "So tell me why you moved, cowboy."

"I had a girlfriend named Clarissa back in Texas. She was perfect. Everything I could ever want in a woman. I was going to propose to her once we'd fully settled in our work until I caught her cheating with our neighbour. She tossed me out on my ass and here I am. New start."

"Wow." Maya looked genuinely apologetic. "That was a bitchy thing to do."

"Yeah."

"Though I saw that shit coming a mile away the minute you said she was perfect," she said nonchalantly, licking her spoon off.

Well that was kind of offensive. Did she think it was amusing that he'd gotten dumped?

"What, her dumping me?" Lucas growled, already on the defensive.

"Her cheating," she clarified.

"Why?" Lucas said hotly. What exactly was she implying anyway? "Is there something about me that's such a turn off that I'm the type of guy who would get cheated on easily?"

"No. If you keep your mouth shut, anyway." Maya added as an afterthought. "But you seem super hard to please unless someone's perfect. No wonder she sought out pleasure in other ways, not that I condone that behaviour at all."

"So what? I'm just not supposed to be satisfied in a relationship? I have certain tastes, you know?"

Maya sighed, setting her spoon into the empty bowl and holding Lucas' gaze seriously.

"You clearly have a lot to learn about life. Listen. You're entitled to have specific tastes in women. No one is telling you you can't have a type. The problem is that you held her to a certain standard—a certain unrealistic standard of perfection—that anyone would be hard pressed to meet. That's a lot of pressure on a relationship especially if that wasn't who she was. And she wanted out. As someone who loathes people trying to get me to change to be their ideal, I don't blame her. I wouldn't stay in that relationship."

Lucas knew Maya had a real point, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Clarissa had said the same thing when she'd broken up with him. And Lucas knew he'd missed out on what kind of person Clarissa was because he'd been concentrating on the wrong things.

"The fact that she still stayed in the relationship with you while she knew she wasn't interested in the relationship anymore makes her a bitch though. Although…" Maya's lips curved up in a devious grin. "What I want to know is what she gained from it. Are you a sex god or something? Otherwise I can't see any other reason why any girl would stay with some uptight, asshole guy."

Was she serious?

Lucas gave her a blank look. "Not answering that question."

"C'mon. Inquiring mind wants to know."

"No."

"Stingy. But my point is, can you imagine having a boyfriend who views the world through a perfection lens and calls you out if you're not up to par? That's intense. And kind of fucked up.

"Take me for example. Do you think I would ever want to be in a relationship with you when you nag me 24/7, hate the way I live my life and constantly poke at the differences with which you and I carry out the things we do? My lifestyle would be ruthlessly picked apart by you, and I'd want out within a week. Three days even."

"…I'm trying to work on that," he muttered, staring down at the melting gelato in his cup.

Put so bluntly, he would be hard pressed not to see why things didn't work out. Lucas knew his behaviour hadn't been stellar, but even as difficult as he might have been to be with, he'd still loved Clarissa enough to want to marry her. And he'd honestly thought he would have a future with her. The breakup had hit him hard and recounting all those memories was reminding him of how rough it had been afterwards, especially since he still blamed himself for the demise of their relationship. Part of him wanted to call her to make it right, but the other part of him was still sore about how she'd lied to him and cheated.

"I know." Maya shrugged, reaching over and taking Lucas' cherry and popping it into her mouth. "If it makes you feel a little better, you're slightly less dick-ish than when you first move in. By like .ooooooo5 percent."

"Gee thanks." Lucas drawled, leaning back in his chair with a raised brow.

"You just have to work on remembering that just because you're used to living your life your way doesn't mean it's the only way. I'm sure you get the concept that people have different ways of life than you, but how you carry your life has to match up with that understanding that people are different. It's easy to forget that, but if you don't fix up the way you think, you'll alienate a lot of people. And probably make a few enemies along the way."

Lucas could tell she was speaking from experience. There was a sort of nostalgic look in her eyes, as if she was reminiscing. "Sounds like you've been through something like that before."

"Twice. Riley and I had a fallout in high school when she kept trying to make sure people's lives were exactly the way she thought they should live it." Maya twisted the cherry stem in her fingertips, trying to tie it into a knot. "She had a little problem with only seeing what she wanted to see and I got fed up. Those were a gruelling two weeks."

"And the second?" he asked, intrigued.

Her expression darkened. "Ex-boyfriend wasn't satisfied with me. He cheated. Nobody believed me because he's such a nice guy and I'm Maya. So I moved to SoHo with Riley before our last year of college."

She'd sought out a fresh start just like Lucas after a bad end to a relationship. It surprised him. For the first time since meeting her, he'd finally found something they had in common, though it was unfortunate that it was because they both got cheated on.

"He sounds like a jackass."

Maya gave him an amused look. "You don't have to tell me twice."

"Did you not confront him or anything? Did you do anything at all?"

Maya shook her head. "Never got closure either. He calls every once in a while, but I'm not going to pick up."

Lucas nodded, but didn't respond. Old relationships were touchy topics and Maya definitely wasn't over this one. He could see the storm swirling in her blue-grays, and her expression had gone cold and closed off. He knew that she wasn't interested in discussing this anymore.

Their conversation was interrupted when a girl wearing a college sweatshirt approached their table.

"Excuse me. I don't mean to disrupt your date with your boyfriend—"

"Oh he's not my boyfriend," Maya corrected immediately. "He's a freeloader at my apartment."

Lucas rolled his eyes to the sky.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to assume. Ummm… You're Maya Hart, right?" she asked shyly, a slight blush on her cheeks.

"Yupp. What can I do for you?"

"Okay, so I've been to your gallery like a thousand times and I've always wanted to meet you, but I've been so scared, but I'm a huge fan of your work and you're my inspiration to get better at art. And my friends dared me to come over here and talk to you because they didn't think you were her, but I knew you had to be Maya and oh wow, you're even more gorgeous in person. Anyway, I just wanted to say I love your art and I'm totally trying to save up to buy one of your pieces."

"Thank you." Maya smiled genuinely, and Lucas rose a brow, surprised at how friendly she was to the girl when not a few minutes ago, she'd been haranguing him. "Thanks for coming over and sharing that with me. It's an honour to have such a sweet fan like you. What's your name?"

"I'm Mindy."

"Well Mindy, do you want a picture?"

"Oh my God. Yes please! I'd like die of happiness."

"Okay." Maya chuckled, rising from her seat to take the picture with the girl.

Lucas watched the process in fascination. He was aware of Maya's rising fame, and he knew she'd created some pretty high profile paintings, but living with her, the edge of her fame kind of disappeared. It slipped his mind, especially since he'd gotten so used to her by now, but seeing people fawn over her was pretty interesting. He wondered if they would still fawn over her if they knew what she was really like.

Once Mindy had gotten her picture and said her goodbyes, Maya plopped back down, her customary indifferent expression back on her face.

"Must be interesting to be famous."

"I wouldn't necessarily say famous." Maya yawned, stretching her arms above her head and once again reminding Lucas of a cat. "I'm just well-known in these parts and a few other places in New York."

"Has it changed the way you live?"

"Nope. Fame is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Once I'm no longer of use, do you really think rich clientele and people who don't know Maya the person will stick around? I much prefer the company of my close friends."

She was pretty humble for being a recognized capable artist with fairly high popularity. And he found it interesting that she hadn't let it get to her head even though she definitely had every reason to.

"You're surprisingly wise," Lucas stated.

"The term is street-smart," Maya said, eyeing his gelato. "You grow up that way when your father deserts you, your mom works three jobs and you only get to see her about twice a week, you work a bajillion hours a week, water bill and electricity gets cut off every once in a while, etc. I may not have been the best school wise, but I feel like I do life pretty well all things considered."

That was pretty shocking. What surprised him the most was how blasé she seemed about it all. If he'd grown up that way, he would absolutely not know where he would be. Suddenly, he could see why Maya was so rough around the edges. It was definitely strange, but knowing a little about how she grew up and seeing who'd she become in spite of that made her success that much more incredible.

"…I think that's an accurate statement."

"Huh?"

"All things considered, yeah. You do life pretty well even though I still don't agree with your messiness."

She looked at him in surprise. "Unexpected. But appreciated."

Maya was much smarter than he gave her credit for. And possibly much more aware than the Maya who he generally saw lazing about in the apartment. He felt kind of stupid for coming to that revelation now, but there was more to Maya than met the eye, and it was probably necessary that he stopped letting his preconceived notions get in the way of learning who Maya was. If he cut that out, maybe they'd have better interactions.

Although, she was still irritating as all get out. And she made him really appreciate his friendships with the people who didn't make his life living hell.

"You gonna eat that?" She pointed to the gelato, licking her lips playfully.

"Uh, no." He pushed it over. "Not really a fan of sweets to be honest."

"More for me then," she singsonged. She took it happily, taking an eager bite. "Are you a health nut or something?"

"Yeah, my mom was really health conscious. It carried over to me," Lucas replied, remembering how no one would ever assign his mom on snack duty for football games. "So why'd you want to come here?"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I said I used to come here with Riley after fights."

"…So what you're saying is you wanted to bring me here because we fought? We've been fighting for a week Maya. You just now decided to clear the air?"

She made a face. "You're not exactly someone I feel motivated to apologize to, you know? Because you say shit like that like a put down, you damn annoying Huckleberry."

"It's not exactly unprovoked." His eyes narrowed. "Sometimes you specialize in being a bitch. For example, your uncanny ability to start a fight no matter what the conversation."

"Okay, you know what? Let's just stop," Maya said in exasperation. "Look. I know I'm angry and aggressive and I'm jaded and I'm pretty guarded. And I know I'm not the… easiest roommate to live with, so consider me treating you as an apology."

"But you didn't treat me…" he deadpanned sarcastically. "I paid for both of them."

"That's not the point. Can you just listen?" She snapped. "Look at the bigger picture. This is my halfway attempt. Now are you going to meet me halfway too or are we going to sit here arguing over semantics?"

Why did he feel like she would continue this trend of never paying for anything?

"Yeah," he said. "But only if you stop leaving piles of your dirty laundry in the living room."

"Where else am I supposed to put it? There's no space in my room."

"And who's fault is that? Maybe if you cleaned your room, that wouldn't be a problem."

Maya's eyes narrowed dangerously, a treacherous glint in the sparkling blue. She looked like she was gearing up to fight him so Lucas quickly intervened before she brought the claws out and pounced.

"Look. Then how about this? If I work on my 'anal retentiveness', you work on leaving your dirty clothes in the living room and bathroom. And your aggressions. Compromise."

"And your controlling nature," Maya added. "That's got to go too."

"And you need to cook occasionally. I can't be the only one making dinner all the time."

"Do you really want to go to the ER?" she said dryly. "There are safer ways."

"Okay then. Raincheck on that then." Maya kept commenting that her cooking was hazardous, but Lucas didn't really believe it. There was no way someone was that bad. "We'll start with those and work from there."

She smirked, reaching her hand across the table. "Put 'er there, partner!"

"Those cowboy phrases and nicknames have got to go too," he grumbled in annoyance, shaking her outstretched hand firmly.

"Baby steps, Huckleberry. Baby steps."

~.~.~

Lucas opened up his machine and a red item tumbled out. Confused, he bent to pick it up, unravelling the little ball and holding it up to see what it was.

They were a pair of red panties, much like the blue ones Maya had been wearing. His mouth went dry.

"What the hell?"

"What?" Maya turned from loading a dryer and when she saw what was in his hands, she gasped softly, snatching them out of his hands angrily. "Don't touch my panties, you perv!"

"They were in my machine! It's not my fault."

And then he froze. He'd opened up the machine with his white clothes just now. Feeling a sense of dread, he peered into the machine and saw pink. Pink shirts. Pink tanks. Pink socks. All pink. Maya snorted beside him, cracking up over his predicament.

"Damn! All of your white clothes are fucked up."

"It's not funny." He picked one of the pink work shirts up. "You wrecked a lot of my clothes because you put your red underwear in my white wash! My lab coat is in there!"

"Sorry." Maya chewed on her lower lip to keep from laughing. "It's not my fault you didn't specify which machine I should put it in."

Really?

"What human being doesn't know that colours and whites don't go in the same machine?!"

"I told you I didn't do laundry when I was younger. I held like ten part time jobs! I didn't have time to learn."

"You apparently didn't have time to learn generic human skills either. Like basic hygiene."

Maya threw the detergent at him which he barely caught before it made contact with his face.

"Asshole! Just because I didn't clean my clothes doesn't mean I'm not always clean."

"You're a clueless health hazard," he snapped.

Lucas didn't even care that some of the other people in the laundromat were giving them weird looks. He knew they were making a scene, but he was pissed off and Maya's complete lack of care over this abomination was irritating him. She'd screwed up a lot of his clothes and her first reaction was to laugh.

"Calm down, you Huckleberry. Just put your shit in bleach and they'll be right back to normal!"

He paused, a frown on his face. Huh. He'd forgotten about that. She was right.

At his silence, a smirk grew on Maya's lips, her face looking so smug he almost resented himself for even thinking she was right for a second. He knew she could read her apparent victory on his face.

"Hah!" She pointed a finger at him. "Who's the clueless person now?"

"It's still you by far."

"You're just mad because you were throwing a hissy fit, and I came up with a simple solution."

Lucas rolled his eyes, setting his detergent on the ground. "You're paying for the new load of laundry and reimbursing me for the one you ruined. And if my clothes don't clear up, you're paying for new ones too."

"Oh c'mon. Seriously? The clothes are still clean albeit a different colour than when they entered the machine. And the bleach will wipe the colour out."

"There's no guarantee. And it might take a couple tries."

"Don't be mad." Maya poked him in the side. "It's kind of funny. One day, you'll remember this situation and laugh."

His eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah? You think so?"

Lucas reached in the machine and pulled out the other identical pair of red panties he'd found in the mix. He dangled it in front of her face, watching her expression transform from amused to wide eyed and slightly embarrassed.

"Give those back!"

Maya tried to snatch it out of his hand, but he held it up over his head, raising a brow and watching her attempt to pull his arm down or reach the top. He saw her every day, but Maya honestly was really short.

"Come now. Don't be mad, Maya," he stated, imitating the exact way she'd made her comment. "One day, you'll remember this situation and laugh."

"Stop using your height against me!" she growled, rising to her tiptoes and nearly grappling with his shirt to try to get higher. "It's not funny."

He smirked. "Actually, this is kind of funny."

Lucas knew he was being childish, but it was honestly amusing to see her struggle to get her stuff. He'd have to remember to use his height to his advantage more in the future.

(At least until Maya stomped on his foot, hard, and pain ripped through his leg).

Or maybe not.