Chapter Text
The road to the mansion was too quiet.
Not all that peaceful— Luigi knew the difference by now—but the kind of quiet that pressed in on your ears, like the world was holding its breath and you can feel the heaviness within it. His gloved hands tightened around the steering wheel as the trees thinned, revealing the silhouette of the massive place in the distance. It was… big. Of course it was big. Nothing in his life ever came small or simple. But this mansion was certainly fancy from the outside, if not ever so slightly eerie.
“Just once,” Luigi muttered under his breath, “it’d be nice if something was normal.”
The letter had been simple enough. A deed. In his name. No tricks he could see—though, to be fair, tricks weren’t exactly kind enough to announce themselves. Still, he’d checked it. Then he had Toad check it. Then had Toad check it again after checking it himself a third time. It was real.
A whole mansion. Just… given to him.
Not Mario.
Him.
That thought alone had followed him the entire drive like a shadow. He had been duped before with offers like this. King Boo had tricked him a few times in an attempt to try and kidnap Mario and keep him imprisoned in a painting, but since Mario wasn’t invited, Luigi felt that it was something else at play entirely, not that he knew what that would be. Luigi let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as if he expected his brother to magically appear back there, waving and smiling like he always did—effortless, confident, enough. Mario didn’t have to wonder if he deserved things the way Luigi was doing right then. Mario just… did. Luigi, on the other hand— Well.
He got the mansion. Which either meant someone out there believed in him…Or someone thought he was gullible enough to take the offer at face value like he was doing.
Still, as the tires crunched onto the long gravel driveway, something in his chest loosened. Just a little. Maybe this was a break. A place where he didn’t have to be the other brother. No castles to storm. No crowds cheering someone else’s name while he stood half a step behind, smiling like he didn’t mind.
Maybe here… he could just be Luigi.
The engine cut off. Silence rushed in to fill the gap. He sat there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the mansion like it might blink first.
It didn’t. It was a mansion.
Getting his bags inside took longer than he’d like to admit. Not because there were too many—though there were a lot—but because the front door had that same heavy, ominous feel every single bad decision in his life seemed to start with. The kind of door that knew things. The kind that didn’t open so much as allow you in.
Luigi nudged it with his shoulder. It creaked open. “Of course you do that,” he muttered, stifling his nerves. Inside, the air was cooler. Still. Dust hung lazily in the light filtering through tall windows, and his footsteps echoed just enough to remind him he was alone. Or… supposed to be. He dragged his bags across the polished floor, the sound scraping just a little too loudly in the vast entrance hall. The place was enormous inside—vaulted ceilings, a chandelier that looked expensive enough to bankrupt a small kingdom, and enough space to make anyone feel small. Which was exactly what he needed more of, clearly. Luigi set one of the bags down with a soft thud, rolling his shoulders as he glanced around.
“…Okay,” he said, forcing a bit of optimism into his voice. “Not haunted yet. That’s a win.”
He reached for another bag—
And froze.
There were voices.
Not echoes.
Voices.
Young ones.
And—
He turned slowly, heart already doing that unpleasant climbing-into-his-throat thing—
Across the entrance hall, framed by the far archway, stood Bowser.
And not just Bowser.
The Koopalings clustered around him in varying states of chaos—one bickering, one poking at something they absolutely shouldn’t, another hanging halfway off Bowser’s arm like gravity was optional. The King of the Koopas himself stood in the middle of it, massive and unmistakable…
…but not the way Luigi expected. Bowser wasn’t posturing. Wasn’t roaring. Wasn’t even looking remotely interested in starting a fight. He was… crouched slightly, head tilted down, listening.
“—I said it’s my room!” Larry snapped.
“You said that about the last three!” Wendy shot back.
Bowser sighed—actually sighed—and rubbed the bridge of his snout.
“Enough. You’re not claiming the whole mansion. We’ll figure it out.”
It was… weirdly calm. Weirdly patient and parental.
Luigi blinked.
That… didn’t line up with literally anything he knew. His first instinct—because of course it was—was to march right over and start demanding answers. Why are you here? What are you planning? Is this some kind of trap? His mouth even opened to do exactly that—
Then Bowser Jr tugged on Bowser’s arm.
“Dad, can I have the room with the big window?”
And Bowser’s expression softened. Not a trick. Not fake expression. Just… soft.
“…We’ll see,” he said, quieter now. “Let’s make sure it’s safe first.”
Luigi stopped. Actually stopped. Because that wasn’t the Bowser he knew. And suddenly, picking a fight in the middle of that felt… off. Like kicking a door open only to realize there’s a kid on the other side. He closed his mouth.
He needed to reset.
Luigi rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight speaking up, making everyone turn to look at him.
“…So,” he started, voice a lot less confrontational than it had planned to be, “not to state the obvious or anything, but… why are you here?”
Bowser’s eyes narrowed slightly—not aggressive, just measuring. Then he glanced down at the Koopalings. Back at Luigi.
“…Got a letter,” he said.
Luigi blinked.
“…A letter.”
“Yeah.”
“…Inviting you to live here.”
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Luigi let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Of course you did.”
Because why wouldn’t this happen to him? He gestured vaguely around the massive hall.
“…Let me guess,” Luigi added, “no name, no explanation, just—‘hey, free mansion, don’t ask questions’?”
Bowser huffed. “Pretty much.”
They stood there, staring at each other across the polished floor.
Two people who absolutely should not have been in the same place…
Now apparently co-tenants in a mansion neither of them owned, invited by someone neither of them knew.
Luigi exhaled slowly. “…Okay,” he said. “Cool. Great. Love that this is happening.”
He glanced up at the towering ceiling, then back at Bowser, then at the kids. “…You don’t think this is, I don’t know… suspicious?”
Bowser snorted. “Obviously it is.”
“…And you still came.”
Bowser’s gaze flicked to the Koopalings.
“…Yeah.”
Luigi followed that look. And, annoyingly, he got it. He didn’t like that he got it. But he did. Another silence settled between them—less tense now, more… uncertain.
Luigi shifted again, gripping the handle of his bag like it might anchor him to something normal.
“…So,” he said, “we’re just… doing this, then?”
Bowser crossed his arms, expression settling into something more familiar—but not entirely. “For now.”
Luigi stood there for a moment, assessing the whole scene slowly. Bowser in this element seemed so-foreign to him. He was used to the Koopa King blowing ash and fire in every direction, trying to destroy his brother or himself in an attempt to get Princess Peach, but here he was, almost docile in a way, stating that he was just willing to roll along with the punches and con-exist in this mansion with him. Why? What was the angle? Why would Bowser be so lax with just coinhabiting a space with the brother of his sworn enemy? None of it made sense to Luigi, and he'd be lying if it didn't make him a wee bit nervous. Luigi lifted his cap, running his glove hand through his soft brown locks and sighed before resituating his cap back on his head. Bowser was watching his actions, but didn't say anything about it. Partially because the Koopalings piped up and started pestering him again about rooms and dinner, but the other part seemed to be fatigued. Luigi knew the feeling, the Toads sometimes kind of acted like the Koopa kids, whining and asking all kinds of questions even when he or Mario or Peach were tired. Luigi stepped a little closer, which perked Bowser's attention up, waiting to see what Luigi would do.
"If it's food they need, I'm sure it wouldn't be TOO difficult to find the kitchen and whip something up. I'm not really sure what Koopa's eat-" Luigi felt his face get a little warm, "Not that I think you eat anything strange or anything-I just am not sure what a Koopa's diet consists of since I'm a Human-y'know?"
Bowser eyed Luigi cautiously and sighed, a small smile tugging at the massive beasts mouth, "Koopa's mostly eat meat, but I like to keep a balance in their diets. Papaya fries, mushroom soup, burgers, so on and so forth."
Luigi felt his shoulders ease a little, "That seems easy enough. Do you mind if I - cook for everyone? Maybe some food, a bit of discussion about all of this?"
Bowser looked down at the Koopalings and when he saw all their puppy dog expressions begging their surrogate father to go along with the mustached mans suggestion, Bowser sighed in irritation and waved Luigi off, "Fine fine, but only because I don't wanna deal with all their hangry antics because they haven't eaten yet."
Luigi was pleased with Bowser's reluctant agreement, and wandered off to try and find the kitchen while Bowser followed along, insisting that the Koopalings stayed put until he came back to bring them to the dining area. Bowser's heavy footsteps rivaled Luigi's slow timid pace, a stark contrast between the two men. It wasn't long until
The kitchen, as it turned out, was massive. Of course it was. everything in this place seemed to be. Long vintage counters, old but sturdy appliances, cabinets that looked like they hadn’t been opened in years—and, surprisingly, a pantry that was… stocked? Luigi opened it slowly, like it might explode randomly.
“…Okay,” he murmured. “That’s not ominous at all.”
Bowser leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as Luigi started pulling things out—ingredients, pots, anything usable. For a minute, the only sound was the clatter of cookware and Luigi quietly muttering to himself as he worked. Then—
“…So.”
Luigi glanced over his shoulder. Bowser hadn’t moved much, but his gaze was sharper now. More observant.
“…Your brother,” Bowser said. “What’s he gonna think about this?”
Ah. Right.
Luigi exhaled through his nose, turning back to the counter as he started chopping something—more for the rhythm than necessity. The noise kept his nerves a little more directed.
“Yeah,” he said. “Knew that one was coming.”
Bowser didn’t reply. Just waited.
Luigi shrugged, though there was a slight stiffness to it.
“…He’ll probably freak out,” he admitted. “Or try to turn it into some kind of ‘rescue mission’ even if there’s nothing to rescue me from.”
A small, humorless smile tugged at his mouth. “That’s kind of his thing.”
Bowser tilted his head slightly.
“And you?” he asked. “You got a problem with it?”
Luigi stopped chopping. Not for long. Just enough to notice the question sitting there between them. Then he resumed, slower this time.
“…With you being here?” Luigi clarified.
Bowser shrugged one heavy shoulder. “With me in general.”
Luigi huffed quietly. “That’s a loaded question.”
“Answer it anyway.”
Luigi considered that. Really considered it. Because the easy answer was yes. It was always yes. Bowser kidnaps Peach, Mario charges in, Luigi follows, chaos, rinse, repeat. That’s the script. But standing here… in a kitchen… with Bowser not acting like a villain and a bunch of kids in the next room waiting for dinner? The script felt… off. Luigi set the knife down.
“…I mean,” he started slowly, “I’m not exactly a fan of the whole ‘kidnapping Peach’ thing. Gonna be honest, that’s always been a bit of a sticking point.”
Bowser let out a short grunt. “Yeah. Figured.”
“But…” Luigi continued, wiping his hands on a towel, “…outside of that?”
He glanced over.
“…I don’t really have a personal gripe with you.”
Bowser’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a subtle shift—like something tightened, then eased.
“…Huh.”
“Yeah, I know. Shocking,” Luigi added dryly. “Turns out I don’t wake up every morning thinking ‘man, how can I make Bowser’s day worse?’ That’s more Mario’s department.”
Bowser actually let out a low chuckle at that.
“Yeah. Definitely his department.”
Luigi smiled faintly, then turned back to the stove, stirring something that was starting to smell… pretty good, actually.
“…Look,” Luigi said after a moment, quieter now, “most of the time, I’m just… there. You know? I get pulled into whatever’s happening.”
He shrugged again.
“…You go after Peach. Mario goes after you. I go after Mario. It’s like a weird, never-ending conga line of bad decisions.”
Bowser snorted.
“…That’s one way to put it.”
Luigi glanced back at him, expression softer now.
“So no,” he said simply. “I don’t really have a problem with you being here.”
A beat.
“…Do you have a problem with me being here?” Luigi added.
Bowser looked at him for a long second.
Then—
“…If I did,” he said, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Fair enough.
Luigi nodded once, accepting that.
From the other room, a voice shouted:
“IS IT DONE YET?!”
Luigi winced. Those Koopalings were certainly loud.
“Working on it!”
He looked back at Bowser, a little exasperated, a little amused.
“…You’ve got your hands full, huh?”
Bowser sighed, rubbing his face.
“You have no idea.”
Luigi smirked slightly.
“…Yeah,” he said. “I’m starting to.”