A/N: This oneshot ended up being painful to finish. It was supposed to be a quick drabble, but aren't all my fics? I honestly just got tired of looking at it which is why I am choosing to post it now.

Feedback is always appreciated, and I love hearing from you guys. Just the fact that you are taking the time to read my work makes my day.

Enjoy!

Maya is blissfully unaware of what people make of her relationship with Lucas until the day her mom brings it to her attention.

It's 2 am on a Saturday night and they are sitting crisscrossed on the couch in the middle of their apartment, mugs of hot chocolate in hand and smiles across their lips as Maya recalls her most recent adventure—from Cory and Shawn's fight for shotgun ending with them squished in the very back seat to the revelation that Mr. Feeny was not was real and not just a person Mr. Matthew's created to aid in his life lessons. Katy Hart listens with rapt attention, nodding and asking questions, and Maya is grateful. It is not that she finds her weekend particularly exciting, but Maya appreciates the effort her mom has been putting in to spend time with her since getting her job at Topanga's and she does not want to discourage the older Hart. Though the teen will never say it out loud, Maya enjoys their late night conversations. Flawed, scattered, and full of awkward silences they might be, they are reserved for just her and her mom, which was a time Maya did not know she could spend as a little girl.

It was in one of those moments of silence that the words spill from Katy's mouth, words laced with such innocence and spoken with such causality that they manage to make Maya choke on her sip of hot chocolate.

"Has your boyfriend said anything more about being a rodeo star?"

Her mother meant it to be kind, a change in topic, and Maya blinks for a moment before registering the implication. The warm liquid she just sipped gets stuck in her throat, and she gasps for air as Katy's brows draw near with concern.

"Excuse me?" Maya manages. Clearly she must have misheard her mom, because for a moment it sounded like she was implying that her and…but no, that could not have been what she meant.

"You know," Katy says, missing the wide-eyed look of shock still written across her daughter's face. "Tall. Tan. Southern Accent. I think his name was Liam or L-"

"Lucas?" Maya finishes for her, gaping at her mom as the older blonde nods her head.

And in that moment Maya is convinced her mom must have taken up drinking or drugs while her daughter was out of the house, because that is the only plausible explanation why she would think that her and Ranger Rick could possibly be dating. He is the golden-boy from Texas and she is the broken rebel rooted to the city, and the only way the two of them would ever even imagine forming a relationship is if all other life on earth managed to disappear.

"Mom, he's Riley's boyfriend, or crush, or...whatever they are." Maya trails off as if explaining something to a small child. She places her hot chocolate back down on the coffee table, suddenly not able to stomach the sickly sweet beverage.

But even though Katy Hart does not seem intoxicated, at the words her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she cocks her head to the side. "Really? 'cause I always see you two together at the bakery—"

"…With Riley and Farkle," Maya interrupts.

"—And I could have sworn…"

But Maya has heard enough, and so she silences her mom by taken her mug out of her hand. "Okay, that is enough mother-daughter talk for one night. Clearly you must be tired if you think I would ever date Huckleberry. So I'm just going to head to bed and try not to wake up screaming the new nightmare you have put in my brain."

Maya stands and gives her mom a kiss on the cheek before stalking off to her bedroom, shaking her head and muttering "Me and Ranger Rick? What in the world would give her that idea?"

Even if she did have feelings for the cowboy, nothing would ever come of it. Mr. Perfect's don't fall in love with broken harts, and broken harts don't let themselves fall in love in the first place.

It was a fluke. A one-time mistake. Katy Hart had always been a romantic. Clearly she was projecting her own wishes of meeting a nice, normal guy onto her daughter. Maya could understand that. What she couldn't understand was how the same misunderstanding could happen only months later on a larger scale.

She and Riley sit in Topanga's after school, munching on free bagels and lemonade as Riley flips through the pages in this year's Looking Glass, the infamous school yearbook that had just been passed out at the end of their 8th period. Her Best Friend chats amiably about whether or not now she should spend her recent babysitting money on a cute pair of heels or practical ballet flats. Maya nods her head as she listens to Riley go on and on about the pros and cons of settling with a pair of kitten heels she had seen in demolition the other day, when the wide-eyed brunette's voice comes to a screeching halt as she turns the page. Her eyes bulged, and lips parted in a shocked 'o' as she stared at a glossy image hidden from Maya's gaze.

"Riles?" Maya asks looking up at her best friend. She is cautious, but not overly worried. They probably misspelled a name, or forgot to include Riley's petition to reinstate Pluto as a planet. But Riley continues to just stare at whatever is on the page, before slowly turning it in the blonde's direction with a blank stare.

There, in the center of the page under the title "Best Couple" was a picture of Maya and Lucas.

.

.

"Alright, who's idea was this?" Maya demands the next morning as she slams the offensive image down on one of the Yearbook classroom desks. Her blue eyes are sharp, set in a glare ready to slice the first person that crosses her path.

Someone has made a huge mistake, one that threatens to make her best friend cry and force Maya to use her 95 pounds of fury to punch someone against the wall.

It was true her and Lucas had gotten closer over the span of their last year of middle school. Their conversations had evolved from teasing banter to friendly casualties and the occasional meaningful talks. He had somehow managed to become more than Riley's crush, but a person whose friendship no longer was directly correlated with the smiling brunette.

"That is what I would like to know."

And as if summoned by her thoughts, Lucas Friar cam up behind her, gaze not half as menacing as the blonde's, but clearly unamused. It might have been enough to make Maya afraid if she wasn't so, well, Maya-ish.

The yearbook staff stares at them with their mouths agape. Two sixth graders duck their heads behind their computer screens, one visibly shaking. It takes a moment before the editor gets up from her desk and clears her throat to speak. "Is there a problem?"

Maya slams her hands against the desk, her attention having been temporarily distracted by the native Texan's surprise appearance but quickly returning to the task at hand.

"Does it look like there is a problem?" the blonde hisses as she lifts up the year book open to the picture of her and Lucas by the corner like a dirty tissue.

Maya could not recall ever having someone take the picture. It is an image of the two of them standing by her locker. Lucas is smirking that smirk that he reserves for their banter, his hand set in motion to tip his imaginary hat in the blonde's direction. Maya wears her sideways smile; a single eyebrow is raised as she is ready to rebuttal whatever words had just left the cowboy's laugh. They lean into one another, Lucas looking down at her face as she raises it in an attempt to meet his height. Maya might have been impressed with the candidness the photographer had managed to capture if she wasn't so angry. Lucas clears his throat.

"What Maya means is," Lucas starts, always the diplomat with his voice much more controlled than his shorter companion. "It is hard to understand why we..." He gestures between himself and Maya. "…Would get voted best couple when we aren't together."

The yearbook editor still looks confused, looking between the two and cocking her head to the side. After a pause she speaks.

"You mean, you aren't her boyfriend?" she asks, pointing from Lucas to Maya.

Lucas grabs the back of Maya's shirt just before the blonde lunges forward towards the yearbook editor, which is good because there might have been one less student at John Quincy Adam's Middle School if he hadn't.

By high school Maya has grown to accept the fact that, for whatever reason, people naturally tend to assume Lucas and her are a couple. She had tried to fight it. She had snarled, threatened, and denied until she was red in the face, but nothing she said or did seemed to be enough to convince all her peers that her and Lucas Friar did not, nor would they ever be, romantically involved.

Maya ignores what she liked to refer to as the "b-word." People just liked to stir gossip, and even though it was the 21st century it seemed that holding a strictly platonic relationship with the opposite sex was still beyond the social norm. Maya can see how someone with less brain-cells could take their teasing as flirting and their ever-increasing time together as courtship, but that did not mean she has to acknowledge other's stupidity with more than a snort and eye roll.

The only time she brings it up to Lucas is at the end of their freshman year. Riley has, somewhat ironically, joined the yearbook staff and has been busy finalizing details before it's upcoming publication. Done with athletics for the year, Lucas, forever the southern gentleman, takes it upon himself to walk Maya home in the brunette's place.

At first the petite blonde insists she does not need an escort to make it back to her apartment, and that if Lucas needs to be reminded just how well she can take care of herself she would be more than happy to demonstrate on him, but Maya's protests do not last long. She is secretly glad for the company. Not just because it dissuades the attention of the New York street bums and drunks whose eyes follow her more and more as she grows older, but because Lucas has been filling the role of a different kind of b-word that is sometimes scarier than the term boyfriend.

Lucas Friar has become a best friend.

There was no way he would ever replace Riley—she was the best friend—but the newfound alone time with Lucas that has slowly integrated itself into Maya's daily routine was forming a role in her life for Lucas that could not easily be replaced. Maya would never voice it out loud, but their new dynamics meant she did not have to. So she let the ease of their conversations and friendly banter express what she is too afraid to admit; she would not be the same without Lucas.

So when the star freshman athlete places his new shiny letterman across her shoulders after she complains about the still-chilly spring air, Maya rolls here eyes and clicks her tongue at him with a shake of her head.

"Careful there, cowboy. Keep doing gestures like that and no one will ever stop calling you my boyfriend."

It is different when Maya uses the word. There is no awkwardness, or quickly turned glances that followed in middle school because Lucas and her know what they are, and it isn't that.

Lucas shakes his head at her and grins as they continue walking. "You would think by now they would have learned."

Maya shrugs; taking a moment to enjoy the scent the letterman has wafted under her nose. She always was a sucker for pine.

"What can I say, Ranger Rick? Some kids just don't mature as quickly as you and me."

"Says the girl who still refuses to call me by my actual name."

Maya ignores him, putting her arms in the sleeves of his jacket despite them being far too big for her. She could see why jocks were constantly wearing the leather garment. It was really comfortable.

When they arrive at her apartment not even a minute later, Lucas holds out his hands expectantly and Maya gives him a mischievous grin.

"Oh, you want this back?" she asks innocently before taking a few steps back. "You're going to have to catch me first!"

Maya runs up the apartment fire escape, ignoring Lucas' cry of protest followed by amused laughter as he takes off behind her.

Ten minutes later they are both sprawled out on the floor of her room, panting heavily. Lucas holds his letterman in triumph, but Maya is still smiling in spite of herself. There is a comfortable silence between them, until Lucas speaks.

"It really is ridiculous," he says, and Maya does not have to ask what he is referring to.

"Absolutely ridiculous," Maya adds back.

Later she ignores how the scent of his jacket lingers on her long after he leaves for the night.

Come sophomore year their acceptance of forever being deemed a couple has not changed, so when Lucas punches Senior J.C. to the floor it has nothing to with the label that slipped from the older boys lips.

School has let out nearly an hour ago, and Maya has just walked out of the art room to meet with Lucas at her locker. Even though neither of their schedules aligned so they finished at the same time anymore, he with his myriad of sports teams and her with her expanding dedication to art, old habit died hard. If Maya wasn't waiting for Lucas to finish practice underneath the bleachers, he was working on homework in the hall outside the art room, and they would meet and walk back to her apartment just as they had done the previous year.

Maya sees Lucas as she turns the corner, down the hall with a book in his lap. As her heels clack against the floor, he looks up to give her a smile and wave. Maya is too busy waving back at him to noticed the Senior boy leaning against the lockers as she passes until a low wolf-whistle catches her attention.

With slicked black hair and a dark leather jacket, J.C. Abbiati looks as if he belongs strait from the set of the movie Grease. Maya stops her walking to turn and him a deserved glare, which only causes him to smirk at her and her exposed legs.

"Should be illegal for a girl like you to wear a skirt like that," he says, eyes still focused on her legs. "Guys like me can't be held responsible for what kind of thoughts that come to mind when you pass us."

Maya is about to flip him off and move on with her life, some guys just did not know how to keep their mouths shut, and she had too much pride to allow one comment make her feel ashamed for what she was wearing, but she feels someone come up behind her. It does not take a genius to figure out it is Lucas, features set like tone as he stares directly at the senior boy in front of them.

"Apologize," he says in a voice so low and cold that made Maya's attention snap towards her friend. There was a look on his face she had only seen once back in the eight grade, one she knew he had been struggling to control since moving back to New York. This time, it was so intense that Maya almost takes a step back.

J.C., either stupid or holding a death wish (Maya believes it must be the latter), turns his attention between Maya and Lucas with a cocky smirk before turning arching his head back in her direction. "Yeah, better keep your boyfriend close by you slut, otherwise there might be not stopping me from—"

Wham!

Maya has not even seen him move, but Lucas is standing over J.C. with his fist raised in the air, threatening to collide with the older boy's face for a second time. The leather-clad Senior has his back to the ground, nose bleeding, with his original arrogance replaced with fear.

It takes five minutes of coaxing for Maya to pry Lucas off the older boy and lead him outside where they sit on the street corner while Lucas gains control of his breath. Neither says anything as he walks her back to her apartment, standing closer to her than usual so their fingertips brush against one another as they walk. When they reach her apartment Maya does not wait for him to speak as she stand on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his waist.

"It ain't worth it, Huckleberry," she says. She tried to pull away, but finds herself trapped by his arms circling her waist as he makes her look him strait in the eyes. They are green and lovely, holding none of the anger she had just witnessed but still managing to express the same intensity.

"You will always be worth it," he says.

Maya watches him go, tipping his imaginary hat in her direction before stalking off back to his home. There will be lectures tomorrow, on how even if they were friends there was no need to allow stupid words prompt stupid actions. But for the night, Maya let herself lie on her bed and let herself replay the word "always" the had spilled from his lips over and over again.

Maya knows it must be bad when Riley brings it up to her.

It's the summer before their junior year, and Maya has just arrived slightly late to one of their Friday sleepovers. Riley understands, but is curious, and when Maya blames a certain Texas cowboy for her tardiness, the brunette's gaze becomes a little too knowing for the blonde's liking.

"You were hanging out with, Lucas?" she asks, a little too innocently as they sit perched on the bay window. "Didn't you mention he helped you with some art project yesterday? Or was it Wednesday when you texted me that he was dragging you to some western film?" Riley pauses as she pretends to think. "Oh wait, the western film was Monday. Wednesday was when you made him carry your bags at the mall. That was a funny instagram post…"

Her words trail off as she gives Maya a knowing look, but the blonde's expression remains unfazed.

"I get it. I've been hanging out with Lucas a lot this Summer," Maya gives a small shrug and avoided Riley's eyes as the brunette's face broke out into a huge grin.

"Maya," she draws out the word, her smile not faltering. "You just called him Lucas."

Maya bites the corner of her lip. "Yeah, so? It isn't like I don't know his actual name."

Riley doesn't back down. "Are you guys?"

"No."

"Are you sure he's not—"

"Riley…"

"—Your boyfriend," Riley finishes.

Maya opens her mouth, and then closes it. There is again. That damn question. The question that has floated around since her mother asked it back in the eighth grade, and has recently reappeared with a new gusto. With everyone else Maya always gives the same snort and roll of the eyes followed by a "Me and Huckleberry? You're kidding, right?" But because it is Riley, the girl who knows her better than anyone in the world and the person she promises never to lie to, Maya hesitates. Because something has changed between her and Lucas, a line crossed that Maya had not known was drawn until the edges had completely blurred and he was standing right beside her with his sideways smirk and glimmering green eyes.

It wasn't as if they were hanging out much more than usual. They had made a habit of seeing each other almost every day during their sophomore year. True, now that it was Summer meeting required a bit more effort on both their parts, whether it was Maya texting him that she needed someone to grab peanut butter off the top shelf of her pantry, or Lucas insisting his family needed her expert artist opinion on what color the should paint their living room, but that did not mean anything about their relationship had drastically changed. Friends were supposed to hang out, and that was all they were doing.

No, what had changed were the little things. How Maya finds herself notching how Lucas' thigh touched her own when they shared his small couch, and she dozes off to wake up with her head tucked into his shoulder and his hand on her waist. Or how she turns to find him staring at her from behind, eyes clouded over with that same emotion he wore the day he hugged her in front of her apartment. She found herself staring at him as well, memorizing the contours of his face to the point where she could draw his likeness across any surface without so much as a glance in his direction. Silly things remind her of him, like pancakes being served for breakfast or pine car fresheners dangling from Taxi mirrors, and all of it together is driving Maya insane. Because she keeps getting this question that she thought she always knew the answer to, but now when faced to tell the truth she had no freakin' idea of what to say.

Because if Lucas is not her boyfriend then what else could he be?

Maya feels Riley grab her hand, and the blonde looks up at her best friend. The brown-eyed girl's smile has grown smaller with an understanding that proves just how long they have known each other.

"Why don't we go get dinner? My mom made spaghetti," Riley says in kind tone as she gets up and pulls Maya with her. "You can tell me when you know."

Maya's lip quirks upwards as she follows her friend out of the room. "Sounds good."

Maya ignores thinking about the cowboy for the rest of the night as she lets herself laugh and chat with her best friend. Because she might not know what the answer to Riley's question is, but she has a sinking feeling she knows what she wants the answer to be.

Maya never does call Lucas her boyfriend.

It is the last week of summer when she reaches for his hand.

She is walking him home for once, their hands swinging next to one another until Maya decides she has had enough and entwines her fingers with his. Lucas does not falter nor blink, but a face-splitting grin creeps across his lips and his eye light up as if he has won the lottery. Suddenly they are taking the long route back to his apartment, and then they are walking in circles again and again until Maya gives his hand a final squeeze and lets go. Somehow, their hands continue to find one another, and when the first day of their senior year arrives their hands remain clasped as they enter the halls for the New Year.

None of their friends comment on it. Farkle raises his eyebrows as they approach and Riley's face lights up into a smile. Some of their classmates turn their heads as they walk by, but most see no difference.

Lucas kisses her two weeks later.

It is Saturday and they are in her room, and he has been watching her for the last thirty minutes as she paints whatever image her hands have decided to bring to life. All of a sudden he grabs the paintbrush from her hand, silencing her loud protests by placing his lips on her own. This kiss is chaste, and fast, but it makes Maya's heart race long after he pulls away, and she smirks at him before leaning in for one more of many.

They still fight; banter and merciless teasing still fills their conversations. Lucas continues to wait for her by the lockers, and Maya still texts him to help her get objects off the highest shelves of her apartment. She still steals his letterman and makes him catch her for it, though his prize for finally managing to wrap his arms around her tiny waist is often a little more than an article of clothing. Even as the years pass by and the people around them adopt different titles for their relationship—boyfriend, fiancé, husband—the way Lucas looks at her, and the way Maya holds him tightly as she stands on her tiptoes for a hug does not change.

Because they have always just been Maya and Lucas, and that meant more than any word ever could.