the pact & the bet (a lake house series fic)
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
pairings: luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x reader, trevor zegras x reader, mentions of cole & quinn summary: a debate on "team jack" vs "team quinn" reveals a bigger secret to the reader warnings!! cursing, mentions of sex, objectifying a/n: hi my friends! thank you for your patience with this series, and i deeply apologize for my absence :( this is just a small story to kick things back into motion. i'm writing more with quinn rn so lmk what u think!! wc: 3.6k
You sat at the kitchen table in Jack and Luke’s apartment, laptop open. You’d been writing an article for a newspaper in Vancouver since noon–the clock read 7. Jack had gone out to run errands an hour ago, and Luke had been napping since 5. It was rainy, warm, and your music was playing faintly in the background. It would’ve been perfect if Trevor wasn’t sitting across from you shouting every two seconds.
“So…what are you doing?” He asked, his voice far too loud for being only 4 feet away.
Your eyes flicked up, a flat expression on your face. “The same thing I've been doing for the past seven hours. I’m working.”
He groaned, twirling his finger in a bowl of popcorn that sat at the center of the table. “So,” He started. You rolled your eyes. “What’s your favorite part of New York?” You said nothing, typing aggressively. Trevor smirked, leaning forward. “I bet you wish you were in Vancouver with Quinn.” You looked up at him, a rude expression on your face.
You shook your head, returning your eyes to the computer screen. “Can you stop being annoying?”
“You’re just mad ‘cause I'm right.” He looked over, checking for a reaction, but you were too zoned in. Without missing a beat, he leaned over further and slammed your laptop shut.
“Hey!”
“Stop being lame.” He said, staring you dead in the eyes. “You’ve been working for hours.”
Your expression softened as you leaned back, crossing your arms. “Fine. What do you want?” Your voice was flat, slightly aggressive.
Trevor smiled, sitting back down in his chair. “Are you team Quinn or team Jack?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “This is so stupid.”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t even know what that means!”
He raised his eyebrows, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “You know exactly what it means,” You shut your eyes, taking in a deep breath. Trevor smiled. “I’m team Quinn.”
You opened your eyes slowly, leveling him with a glare. “You would be.”
He grinned, obnoxiously proud of himself, slouching further into the chair like he’d just made some profound declaration. The soft patter of rain against the windows accented his self-satisfied silence. Your laptop sat shut in front of you, the article staring back at you from behind your eyelids like a ghost you couldn’t shake. But you knew Trevor wasn’t going to let you get back to it. Not yet.
“Alright,” you said dryly, brushing your fingers across the smooth lid of your laptop. “Fine. Entertain me, genius. Why team Quinn?”
Trevor lit up. “Easy. Jack’s too…Jack. He’s charming, good-looking, funny. He can make you think he’s made for you, but we all know he gets around. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you.” You looked away for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Quinn? Quinn’s your husband. He sends you flowers, he warms your towel in the dryer, he cleans up your messes, he cooks for you. Need I say more?”
You stared at him, half-baffled, half-amused. He wasn’t wrong, or so you thought. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Luke came out of his room. His hair was ruffled under his hoodie, eyes tired as he took a seat at the table. “I just listened to that whole spiel,” He looked over at Trevor. “You’re wrong.”
Trevor turned toward Luke like a dog scenting prey, grin already locked and loaded. “I’m sorry—what?”
Luke gave a lazy blink, voice still scratchy with sleep. “You’re wrong,” he repeated, tone flat as the rain tapped on the windows. “Quinn’s not a husband. He’s a hallucination.” You glanced between them, trying and failing to hide your smirk behind a hand.
Trevor looked personally offended. “Hallucination? You’ve gotta be joking.” Luke let out a deep breath, rolling his eyes as he stood from his chair. Silently, he walked into his room, returning with a small white board. He stood in front of the table, white board facing both you and Trevor.
“Wow.” You said, raising your eyebrows.
Luke cleared his throat. “So, there are three groups when it comes to Bunny.” He drew each of the boy’s numbers on the white board, grouped together variously. Trevor looked over at you, suspicion written all over his face. “First, we have our ‘would never’s’. That’s me and Trevor.” Trevor cheered, giving Luke a fist bump. Luke sniffled his nose before starting again. “Then we have the ‘delulus’. As you can see, Cole stands alone in this category.” You pouted. “And of course, the ‘future husband potentials’. Quinn and Jack.”
“I’m sorry– ‘future husbands’?” You asked. Trevor shushed you quickly, now fully invested in Luke’s presentation.
“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,” Luke continued, sending you a glare. “Sure, Quinn can act like a husband. He can bring you flowers, hold you, give you comfort, treat you like a princess—but Quinn has had girlfriends. And, what happens when Quinn gets a girlfriend?” Luke erased Quinn’s number, moving it next to Trevor’s. “He pretends like you don’t exist.” You tried your best not to frown, but you were dying a little bit on the inside. “Quinn is able to treat another woman the exact same way he treats you. He’s capable of having that level of intimacy with anyone else.”
“Intellectual.” Trevor said, nodding his head.
“Uh, I’m not done.” Luke pointed at Trevor before returning to his white board. “I’ll say it straight up, Jack’s an asshole. It’s all ‘fuck bitches, get money’ with him. But we all see the way he stares at you on the lake, we see the way he tries to get everyone out of the room so it’s just the two of you, we see the way he lingers at your door before walking to his room. Jack calls you to take care of him when he’s sick, he’ll cry in front of you, he acts like an idiot around you, and Jack doesn’t act like that around anyone. He’s not afraid to be himself around you.” Your eyes softened a bit as Luke stared into them. “Yeah, he fucks around, but it’s been proven he’s not capable of that same level of intimacy with anyone else but you. When you have a boyfriend, how does he act?”
You hesitated for just a moment. “...Like a douchebag.”
“Yeah, exactly.” Luke nodded his head. “He’s jealous.” Trevor was frozen mid-popcorn toss, his smug little smirk caught somewhere between confusion and horror. You, meanwhile, just stared at Luke, lips slightly parted, as if his monologue had peeled open a window in your chest you hadn’t realized was painted shut. The rain outside had picked up, fat drops thudding against the window like punctuation. Dramatic, even for the weather. Luke casually set the whiteboard down on the counter, like he hadn’t just dropped a thesis more emotionally loaded than your last three relationships. He yawned, turned to grab a LaCroix from the fridge, and cracked it open with the indifference of someone who didn’t just derail your emotional stability.
Trevor clapped slowly, looking around the room. Luke raised an eyebrow as you turned to face Trevor. He looked at Luke, a smile on his face. “Wow. That was great.” He said, letting out a laugh. “What about Team Luke?”
Luke froze mid-air, eyes widened. “W-What?”
“C’mon,” Trevor stood up, grabbing the whiteboard. He erased Luke’s number that was grouped with his. “You don’t belong here,” He rewrote the number next to Cole’s. “You’re right here.” You furrowed your brows, curious as to where he was going. “I think you’re bullshitting.”
“No-” Luke started, cut off quickly by Trevor.
“You’re trying to break the pact.”
Your head flicked over to Luke in an instant, even more confused than before. “The pact?” You asked, tilting your head down.
Luke scoffed, looking back at Trevor. “What are you even talking about?”
Trevor smiled, walking closer to Luke. “You know that if Sunny heard your little proposal, she’d go running to Jack. We both know Jack would never say no to any woman, let alone his princess. He’d bang, leave, and the pact would be broken,” He crossed his arms, leaning closer. “Leaving little Lukey an opening to slide in with no consequence.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Luke finally said, voice louder than usual. “I’m not trying to break the pact!”
You slammed your hands on the table, standing up quickly. “Someone tell me what the fuck the pact is, or I swear to god I will lose my shit!”
Luke sent Trevor a glare, but Trevor ignored it. “The pact that states none of the guys are allowed to fuck you.”
“What?!” You yelled. Your eyes widened as you took in the severity of the situation. “Oh my god.”
“Bunny-”
“No! Don’t Bunny me! When?” You asked, looking at Trevor.
“Huh?”
You rolled your eyes in frustration. “When did it start?”
Trevor threw a piece of popcorn in his mouth, sitting back down in his seat. “Summer you grew boobs.” You groaned in frustration, throwing your hands up. “I had to implement it! Okay? It was annoying how every single one of them were competing for your attention. I was getting no attention! And that was the summer I learned how to do a backflip!”
Your eyes widened, turning your attention back to Luke. “Oh my god.”
Luke shook his head. “No, no. It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what she thinks!” Trevor yelled, looking at Luke like he was stupid.
Luke got closer to Trevor, yelling back at him. “It’s not about the pact, it’s about the bet!” Silence detonated in the middle of the room like a bomb. Even the rain seemed to pause, stunned by the sudden twist in dialogue. You blinked. Twice. Once for pact, and once for bet. There was always something new with these idiots.
“I’m sorry,” you said slowly, like you were trying to read a warning label. “What bet?”
Trevor turned in his chair like a villain in a swivel office seat, smugness reloading at full speed. “Oh ho hell no, you’re not blaming this on the bet. Quinn will kill you.”
“I am blaming the bet,” Luke snapped, stepping closer, eyes burning. “Because you made it.”
“I did not make it—Cole made it!” Trevor stood now, waving his hands in defense.
“And you agreed! You shook on it!”
“So did you!”
Luke looked like he was considering throwing his LaCroix at Trevor’s forehead. You looked like you were trying not to throw up. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Someone better start talking, or I swear to god I’m walking into traffic.”
Trevor groaned. “Fine. Okay. Last summer. Cole got drunk—obnoxiously drunk—and said, quote, ‘I bet Quinn’s the first one to fold.’”
“Fold,” you echoed, horrified. “Like I’m a game of poker?”
Trevor nodded solemnly. “Exactly like that.”
Luke looked sheepish now, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to erase the past. “He said Quinn was gonna cave first. That he wouldn’t last a month without trying something. And then...the bet started.”
“You bet on Jack breaking the pact?” you hissed.
“I had to!” Luke confessed.
“Oh my god.” You pressed your palms into your face. “How much?”
Luke and Trevor were silent, staring at each other in silence. “Nuh uh,” Trevor said. “We will die if we say anything else. You have to pretend like you don’t know.”
You laughed, facing both of them. “Act like I don’t know? Are you kidding me? Tell me how much.” Trevor kept a straight face, so you turned to Luke who was sweating gallons. “Luke, how much money?” He shook his head silently. You rolled your eyes, taking in a deep breath—then it clicked. A smug smile wiped across your face as the guys grew worried by the second. “You don’t need to tell me…I can find out for myself.” You said before jumping from the table, running towards Jack’s room.
“Wait-” You heard Trevor as you closed and locked the door behind you. You went straight to the safe Jack had in his closet, something you’d always been confused by. You punched in your birthday, opening the safe. Idiot. You pulled a metal cash box from the safe labeled “Big Bet $”
“Gotcha, Hughes.” You said quietly, ignoring the aggressive knocks from Trevor and Luke. The box was heavier than you expected—heavier in your hands, heavier in implication, heavier because you knew the minute you opened it, there was no going back. Behind the door, Luke and Trevor were fighting for the Nobel Peace Prize in panicked yelling.
“Bunny, come on! Don’t open it—”
“You can’t prove what it means! It could mean anything!”
“It literally says Big Bet on it, you moron!”
Your eyes widened as you pulled open the lid. Stacks. Neatly banded, color-coded, and labeled in handwriting that could only belong to Quinn—too clean, too smug, too organized. You counted silently, mouth dropping open. Jack’s contribution was the largest, naturally. But Quinn’s was suspiciously folded beneath a note that read: “He’s going to cave before the Fourth. Mark my words.”
Cole’s wad of twenties had a sticky note: “Because I value my life, this is anonymously donated.”
And Luke… oh, Luke. A measly fifty-dollar bill, folded eight times, shoved behind a crumpled receipt and an emergency Tylenol packet.
“You guys are fucking dead.” You shouted before swinging the door open, nearly knocking Luke over. You walked with speed back to the kitchen, box in hand. Trevor and Luke knew they’d fucked up, and they’d be done for as soon as everyone else found out. You slammed the box on the table as Trevor and Luke sat down. You stood in front of them, your hands not daring to move from the cash. You opened the box, shame spread across both of their faces. “Are you kidding me?” You asked quietly. “This has to be like…10k.”
“It’s uh…fifty.” Luke let out, earning a punch to the shoulder from Trevor.
“Fifty Grand?!” You shouted. “You bet fifty grand on who would be the first to get in my pants?!”
“Collectively!” Trevor added.
You sent him a glare, causing him to fall back into his seat. The box sat open like a crime scene, cash practically glowing under the kitchen light, a testament to the idiocy of frat-house emotional repression disguised as friendship. Luke looked like he was seconds from fainting. Trevor was trying not to laugh but had the face of someone who was deeply aware he might die tonight. “Collectively,” you repeated. Then you turned to Luke. “You contributed this insane stack of cash on Jack.”
“I really thought I would win that!” he blurted, then immediately covered his mouth like he’d just confessed to a felony. “I mean—I wasn’t trying to—That’s not what I meant—”
“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, tone calm in the most terrifying way imaginable. “Do either of you hear yourselves? This is gambling. With my body. My dignity. My—my—life, apparently.”
Trevor squinted. “Okay, when you say it like that—”
“Trevor.”
“I’m shutting up,” he whispered, looking down like he was waiting for divine punishment.
You paced in front of the table like a prosecutor at the end of a very satisfying cross-examination. “I hope you know I’m keeping this money.”
“No!” Luke yelled.
“Yes!” You said, slamming the box shut. “It belongs to me, since I would never do any of you!” Luke and Trevor looked at each other in fear of what would happen to them when the other guys found out. “You guys are professional hockey players, you make this much money in like two months!” Luke, for once in his life, had nothing to say. Just sat there staring at the closed box like it was a ticking bomb. Which, frankly, it was. The minute Jack walked in, or Quinn got wind of it, or God forbid Cole started talking, this whole thing would combust. You ran a hand through your hair, laughing under your breath. “You know what’s wild?” you said, voice too calm. “I was gonna write tonight. An actual piece. Something serious. Something important. And now I’m thinking...maybe this is the story.”
Luke blanched. “Please don’t write about this.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, wearing a wide grin. “I won’t write about it.” Luke exhaled. “No, your punishment is to sit here, silently, until Jack gets back. ‘Cause he is just as dead as the two of you.” Trevor let out a strangled noise that sounded like someone trying to swallow a scream and a couch cushion at the same time. He turned to Luke with the slow, horrified grace of a man realizing he was about to be collateral damage in someone else’s execution.
“Why the fuck did you let her go in Jack’s room?” he hissed, barely above a whisper, like Jack could hear them from down the block.
“Why did you leave the safe labeled?” Luke snapped back.
You, meanwhile, were completely unmoved—box of cash in front of you, arms crossed, wearing the smug, terrifying calm of a woman with nothing to lose and everything to report. As if the universe was on Trevor and Luke’s side, the door clicked open. In walked Jack, grocery bags in hand, looking at you with a wide smile.
“Hey guys,” He said, walking towards the kitchen. “What’d I miss?” His smile faded quickly when he dropped the bags down on the table, spotting the cash box in front of you. “Shit.”
You laughed, softly. “Have a seat, Jack.” Jack didn’t move. Not at first. His eyes bounced from the box to your face, then to Luke, then to Trevor—who looked like he was preparing to fake a seizure just to get out of the room.
“Uh,” Jack said, dragging a hand through his hair, voice suddenly an octave lower. “You found the box.”
“You labeled it,” you replied, folding your hands neatly on top like it was an auction paddle. “Didn’t exactly have to hire a private investigator.”
Jack winced. “Okay. Yeah. That’s fair.” He looked at Luke. “Did you tell her?”
“No!” Luke shouted. “Trevor did!”
Trevor shot upright. “You absolute traitor—you’re the one who brought out the whiteboard!”
“I was doing science!”
Jack sighed. Loudly. Like it hurt to exist. Then he met your eyes and, for the first time since entering, looked genuinely nervous. “Look, before you say anything—”
“No,” you cut him off. “No preamble. Sit your ass down, Hughes.” He obeyed, dragging a chair out with the reluctance of someone about to be publicly executed. He sat, back rigid, hands on his knees like a child waiting to be scolded by the principal.
Trevor leaned over to Luke and whispered, “This is so bad.”
“You think?” Luke snapped. You opened the box like it was Pandora’s wallet, letting the fluorescent kitchen light bathe the stack of labeled, smugly annotated money once again. You pulled out Jack’s contribution and held it up like a piece of damning evidence in court.
“Do you want to explain why you put five grand on yourself?” you asked sweetly, though your tone could curdle blood.
Jack flinched. “I—it wasn’t a bet on me. It was an insurance policy.”
Trevor squinted. “You bet against yourself?”
Jack shrugged, like this somehow made it less insane. “If I caved, I’d at least win my money back.”
You stared at him. Blinked once. “That is the dumbest financial logic I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Trevor was holding his head in his hands now, laughing silently like he’d passed the point of no return and was just enjoying the flames. “Oh my god. Oh my god. We’re all going to hell.” Luke groaned into his arms. You let the silence hang for a moment longer, until the tension in the room had turned into something tangible, like fog you could punch.
“Quinn’s contribution came with a note,” you said casually.
Jack swallowed. Hard. “Did it say...the Fourth?”
You raised your eyebrows. “It did.”
Trevor whispered, “Jesus, he’s psychic.”
“Do you have a note in there, Jack?” you asked. “Or were you too busy betting against yourself like a deranged insurance agent?”
Jack opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then tried again. “...It might’ve said something about a lake trip.”
Luke kicked him under the table. “Why would you write that down, you idiot?” You sat back down in your chair, watching them fall apart.
Jack looked at you finally—really looked at you. “I know this is bad. I know it’s...beyond bad. But we didn’t mean to objectify you, or turn this into some twisted game. It started as a joke. Then it spiraled. And then...I don’t know. It wasn’t about the money.”
You leaned forward, eyes locked on his. “Then what was it about?” He hesitated, the way people do right before they say something that might end them—or save them.
“It was about you,” Jack said. “You walk into a room and every single guy in it starts acting like an idiot. It wasn’t just about who would cave. It was about... who you’d pick. If you ever did. And I guess... maybe I didn’t want to lose.”
You blinked. Once. Slowly. Then let out a smug laugh. “What makes you think,” You started quietly. “I would pick any of you!” You yelled, startling all of them. “I am keeping this money, and I expect a handwritten apology from all of you.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. That’s fair.”
Box in hand, you stood tall. “Now, excuse me while I go call Quinn and Cole and bring hell into their homes.”
