miracle (miracle) wrote in luke_noah, @ 2008-12-10 19:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | -[luke/noah]-, fanfic, fanfic: [alternate universe], fanfic: rating: mature, ยป by: qafaddiction |
Fic: For Sale - Chapter 3
Original poster: qafaddiction
Title: For Sale - Chapter 3/?
Author: Heather
Characters: Luke/Noah
Rating: R
Spoilers: None.
Summary: This is an AU story where the boys are rentboys who share more than a street corner.
Notes: I started writing this in response to nouveau_monday's rentboy/alternate universe (AU) prompt, and it has turned into a short series.
If you need to catch up, here are the previous chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Noah takes a swig of the Jim Beam, then grits his teeth as a streak of pain flashes across his belly. He's reminded of the the scene in an old Western where the rugged hero downs rotgut whiskey to numb the pain while being patched up.
"Try not to move." Luke is sweating, and his breathing is uneven. He's scared for Noah, but hopes his fear isn't contagious. Noah's starting to wilt a little against his side, but Luke just tightens his grip on Noah's waist; he needs him upright.
It's a long but shallow cut, oozing a bit of blood, but not enough to be life-threatening. Luke's grateful for that much.
Noah wishes he'd been able to fight off the bastard who did this to him; but it happened so fast, and the guy took off running, leaving him curled up on the ground. It was at least five minutes before he'd gathered enough strength just to pull himself up to his knees.
Luke curses the perp under his breath. Noah did nothing to deserve this, and yet here he is, hurt and bleeding. Why? Because that homophobic prick thought he could take his rage out on an unsuspecting victim, screaming "faggot" and lashing out with his weapon before Noah knew what was happening?
He'd even scared off the trick who had been about to accept Noah's offer of a 'date'. As soon as the john saw the knife, he was gone. Another night's pay down the drain. Not for the first time, Noah thinks about how much easier things would be if he'd never taken to the streets.
"You'll be fine," Luke murmurs, not sure who he's trying to convince -- himself or Noah. He starts rummaging through the first aid kit he retrieved from the bathroom cabinet. He rinses the cut with water, and dabs gently at it with an alcohol swab. Noah winces, the sting sharper than expected. Luke hands him the whiskey bottle again when he lets out a yelp.
The job of bandaging isn't pretty. In fact, Luke's not entirely sure it will even hold. He gently smooths the tape over Noah's pale skin, then supports his weight as they take slow, shuffling steps towards the bed.
Luke eases him down onto the mattress, and Noah stares up at him.
"Luke, I..." he pauses, taking a breath, his mind a little fuzzy.
"Relax, don't try to talk." He pulls the covers over Noah, being careful not to disturb the dressing.
"No, I want to tell you something." He tugs on Luke's arm, trying to pull him closer. "Luke, I..."
"Shhh, it's okay, Noah, you can tell me later."
"...love you." Noah smiles, proud that he finally got the words out, but not sure why it was so important he say them now. He thinks it might be the alcohol talking.
A flurry of miniature gazelles spring to life in Luke's stomach. He knows that Noah is under the influence, but even so, the declaration throws him. He pushes it out of his mind, and hopes that Noah will pass out soon. He also hopes the sleep will be deep enough that Noah won't toss and turn, and pull the bandage loose. Luke decides he better keep an eye on his patient, so instead of hitting the streets, he stays in, pulls up a chair next to the bed, and tries to think of things that will keep him from drifting off to sleep.
* * *
Much later, Noah wakes to a pounding headache, but even that isn't enough to distract him from the scathing bite of the knife wound across his midsection. The skin around his bandage is itchy, but when he shifts to get a closer look, it burns, as if the metal blade is sliding through his flesh all over again.
Luke is asleep in the chair next to him, arms folded across his chest.
Good old Luke, who always has a plan.
Dependable Luke, who always manages to keep them alive... even though it might seem easier to just roll over and give up.
Luke, to whom Noah declared his love, just hours ago.
Noah might have been dopey and nearly out of it from a combination of pain and alcohol, but the moment has crystalized in his brain. He doesn't know why he said it, although he does know it had been coming for days now, maybe even longer. He knows he felt something that first night when Luke found him brooding in a public restroom, wondering how he had ended up alone, with nowhere to go. Looking back, Noah is amused by the unintentional metaphor; his life was basically in the toilet.
It hadn't taken them long to realize that they weren't really all that different; just a couple of scared kids facing seemingly insurmountable challenges. He wonders if they'd even be together if they'd met under different circumstances. Would they have given each other a second look? Would they be friends, hanging out in the same circles?
It's all too much for him to ponder, especially given the throbbing in the back of his head. A small groan escapes his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut again.
"Noah? Are you okay?" Luke wakes from his not-so-deep sleep, his eyes filled with concern.
Noah feels a soft touch against his brow, and it causes him to smile. He squints up at Luke, whose usually-placid features are creased with a small frown.
Noah mumbles, "I'm fine." A cold sweat is breaking out on his brow, and he realizes he must look even worse than he feels.
"You sure? You want some water, or something to eat?"
"Maybe something for my headache," he says, attempting a grin. "Since you got me drunk and all."
"I didn't!" Luke's expression goes from indignation to irritation in about three seconds flat, as he realizes Noah is only kidding. "Asshole. See if I worry about you ever again. Next time I'll throw you to the knife-wielding psycho!"
"No you won't. You like me too much."
"I really don't. You're a pain." Luke sticks out his tongue in protest.
"You love me as much as I love you." The words are out of Noah's mouth before he has a chance to stop them. The look on Luke's face has Noah questioning his own sanity for even mentioning the word love. There's an unspoken agreement between them that they don't talk about their feelings for each other; it's a side effect of the work, really, since emotional vulnerability is an occupational hazard. Noah's still learning, though, and he's genuinely curious. He knows that Luke cares for him. They show each other how they feel under cover of night, but they protect themselves from the pitfalls of sentiment by letting their actions stand on their own.
"You're still drunk, aren't you?" Luke offers him an out, but Noah doesn't take it. He can be stubborn.
"My head hurts too much for me to still be drunk. And that wasn't an answer."
"You didn't ask a question. You made a statement. A false one." Luke rises to his feet, his face a cool mask of neutrality. Whether Noah believes him or not doesn't matter. "Just rest. I'll find you something for your headache." He walks away, and while Noah doesn't regret pressing the issue, he wonders if he's made things worse.
It's not indifference that keeps Luke from opening up; it's self-preservation. He's only eighteen after all. Technically a man, but just barely, and a situation like this is more than enough to make any strong man want to curl up in a ball and cry. There are times when Luke wishes he could just let go, surrender control, and let fate take its course. It would be so easy to just not get out of bed one morning, but he really doesn't want to test that theory.
* * *
Luke returns to his bedside post once the Tylenol takes effect and Noah is asleep again. He's not comfortable in the chair, but he's not entirely comfortable in his own skin right now either, and somehow the parallel steadies him. He's not sure why he feels the need to watch over Noah; it's not like the attacker is going to come back to try and finish the job. Deep down, he knows they need each other. Tomorrow Noah might be flippant, and Luke might be prickly, and they might irritate each other on a superficial level, but never to the point where they'd be driven to go their separate ways.
Occasionally exhaustion gets the better of him and he dozes off, but mostly he is aware of everything around him. Aware of the sounds outside; aware of Noah's raspy breathing, and the way he fidgets in his sleep. Luke stares numbly into the darkness until his eyes ache and he starts seeing phantom movement at the corners of his eyes. When the greyish light of morning begins filtering through the curtains and he sees that Noah's fidgeting has stilled, and the bleeding has stopped, he relaxes. A rush of air he didn't realize he'd been holding escapes his lungs in a sigh of relief.
Another night behind them, and they're still in one piece.