miracle (miracle) wrote in luke_noah, @ 2008-06-08 23:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | -[luke/noah]-, fanfic, fanfic: [atwt], » by: readthisshit |
Fic: "The Tortoise and the Hare" (Luke/Noah, PG-13)
Original poster: readthisshit
TITLE: The Tortoise and the Hare
AUTHOR: Elise
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Preview for the week of June 9.
SUMMARY: If Noah felt like running, Luke could catch up.
I need to take a break from us.
Noah's words echoed and rattled in Luke's mind. Crashing, shattering, reforming and repeating against the walls of his skull. They followed him wherever he went, grinding away at his peace of mind. It was like a part of Luke that had come to be defined by Noah was falling and tumbling away from him, leaving a pit in his stomach and the constant threat of tears stinging behind his eyes.
He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it.
The next day, Luke walked in a daze to the cottage. The door was unlocked and Noah's things were gone. Nothing was spared: not the pristinely folded pajamas he kept under the pillow in the bedroom, not the pile of DVDs nestled in the side table drawer by the couch. Noah didn't leave a note. Even Ameera had left a note. Noah just ran, cowardly, back to the dorms. But Luke could run, too, and he would run toward Noah as fast and as far as he needed to.
Luke gave Noah a few days' head start. He'd let Noah settle in, let him feel as empty as Luke felt. Slow and steady wins the race.
+++
Oakdale is a small town, and Oakdale U is even smaller, so it didn't take a detective to find Noah's new dorm room -- a dingy single on a hall full of sci-fi geeks who held a weekly Dungeons and Dragons game in the lounge. Luke almost felt sympathy for Noah's residential misfortune, but he figured it served him right.
Luke stood in front of Noah's door for what seemed like hours, studying the tape marks left by past students' whiteboards and smoothing the front of his shirt. Noah used to love this shirt. He'd catch Luke rummaging through his grandmother's fridge, spin him around and grab him by the collar to pull Luke close. He'd fiddle with the buttons as he licked his way past Luke's lips to brush their tongues together.
After a few false starts, Luke knocked on Noah's door with a confidence that surprised him. He heard shuffling from inside, and finally the door opened and there was Noah. Behind him, the floor was covered in unopened boxes. Noah's hair was rumpled, his eyes were puffy, and he clearly hadn't shaved that morning. Or the morning before. He looked terrible, and beautiful.
"Um. Luke." Noah was fidgety, as if he wanted to bolt from his own room. Noah's fingers scratched at the skin below his ear, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. If Luke didn't know better, he'd think Noah didn't want to see him. But Luke did know: how could he not when Noah's eyes kept drifting back to Luke's face, Luke's chest, Luke's lips? Luke knew Noah better than anyone.
Luke took a step forward into Noah's room, and Noah was too surprised to step back and keep his distance. So there they were, inches from each other in the open doorway of this terrible room, the tension passing in waves between them. Finally, Luke spoke in the slow, hushed tone that let Noah know he was wanted.
“So. How’s this break thing treating you?”
“Terribly.” And suddenly, in the whoosh of breath that Noah let out, that tension was forgotten. Ameera, Coyle, Colonel Mayer, all of the things and people that were insurmountable obstacles suddenly didn’t matter as much as they had before. Luke and Noah had been focusing so long and so hard on what could tear them apart that they lost track of what brought them together. And how silly, because there it was, all along: just the two of them, looking the other in the face and seeing love reflected back.
They laughed and it sounded like crying, but that’s what it feels like when you win back what you’ve lost: choked and sudden. Noah pulled Luke to him by the collar of that shirt he loved so much and kissed him with all the apologies he didn’t have the words for, but knew Luke would understand. And Luke did, and he forgave with his lips and his hands, and he guided Noah gently towards the bed that was too small and only half-made.
They’d move Noah’s boxes back to the cottage later. For now, the race was over: time for a victory lap.