FIC: No Guarantees (3/4)
Title: No Guarantees
Chapter: 3/4
Author: carolinablu85
Pairing/Characters: Luke/Noah, Faith, Charlene, Casey, Hunter, Maddie, Emily
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9,480
Spoilers/Warnings: AU with some canon borrowing, brief brief mentions of Luke/other and Noah/other, brief/vague mentions of drug use
Summary: Luke’s problem is that his latest assignment- interviewing a retired madame- isn’t going to be his big break into the journalism scene. And he can’t admit to anyone, especially himself, that he’s maybe falling for her long-lost son. Faith’s problem is that posing as Noah’s assistant so her brother can get information for his article feels wrong. And she can’t shake the feeling that these two would be perfect for each other. Noah’s problem is that after years of being alone, he isn’t sure how to open up to two very loud, very amazing people. And he’s scared by how much he wants to.
Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of merit.
A/N: For jessnic85, who have a mother with excellent taste.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
"Okay, seriously? You never had a boyfriend in college?”
“Seriously.”
“Just random hookups?”
“I wouldn’t say they were random. I mean, I planned them ahead of time-”
“Of course you did.”
“Shut up. I meant I didn’t hook up with strangers. I knew the guys.”
“But no boyfriends? I can’t believe that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re just... I- I don’t know. You’re very monogamous-y.”
“...For a writer, your vocabulary is appalling.”
“You shut up.”
***
“You haven’t seen him since?”
“You mean since he faked his death and tried to frame my dad for the murder? Nope.”
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been...”
“It was, but it’s okay now. He’s far away. Again. And my mom and dad are finally back together, again, so things are good. On that front, at least.”
“And on other fronts?”
“I don’t... nothing’s ever gonna be perfect, right?”
“I guess. But look at it this way, if Damian ever comes back, you’ll be ready this time. Not confused or angry, but ready.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nobody’s ever put it that way before.”
***
“Why aren’t you and Ameera that close?”
“...”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t know how to- we, we didn’t meet until my father was arrested. We didn’t know each other existed until then.”
“Shouldn’t that have been a happy thing?”
“She came to defend my father.”
“...Oh.”
“She grew up with a different version of him than I did. She didn’t know what he... She took his side, tried to clear his name.”
“And you didn’t.”
“I knew what he was really like. I was angry back then. I didn’t want to give her a chance, not if she could still somehow love him after what he did. It’s still hard for me sometimes, to look at her and not see what she defended.”
“Do you still hate him?”
“Sometimes, yeah, I still do.”
***
“Paris, definitely. It was a small restaurant, nice but not the fanciest, and it looked out at the Eiffel Tower so we could see when it lit up at night. You?”
“Well, now mine sounds stupid.”
“Come on, Mayer. Share.”
“You chose Paris, that’s not fair! I’ve been to Rome, but I didn’t really date anyone there.”
“I don’t need an outlandish answer, just your real one. What was your favorite date you’ve ever been on?”
“In New York. We got takeout from this really great place down the block from my apartment, best Thai food in the city. And we just... I don’t know, hung out. Got to know each other without things in the way. Watched a really bad movie, and when he could make fun of it as well as I could, I was happy.”
“...”
“What?”
“Nothing. I really like Thai food.”
***
“This doesn’t count as a date, does it?” Noah’s voice went all timid in that way he got sometimes.
Luke couldn’t stop himself from smiling, glad Noah couldn’t see him. Glad no one could see him. “This? Talking on the phone?”
“Yeah. Does it- I mean, I haven’t dated in a really long time. Does this count as one?”
“Why do you ask?” He didn’t even need GPS anymore, he knew the route from Chicago to this town perfectly. He pulled off the exit, readjusting the earpiece for his phone.
“Because you’re supposed to... do stuff. On a date. Like, dinner and- and I don’t know. If this is a date, I don’t think I’m a very good one,” he admitted, trying to sound like he was joking even though Luke was pretty sure he wasn’t. Adorable, yes. Joking, no. (Luke reminded himself that he wasn’t falling for the adorable bit.)
“How many ‘real’ dates have we had?” he asked, keeping casual.
“Two,” Noah answered immediately.
“And how many phone dates have we had?”
“Four,” he answered just as quickly.
Luke should laugh at him. Because it wasn’t like he was keeping track of how often they talked or hung out. He wasn’t. Totally wasn’t. Nope. “Well then, either way we should have dinner tonight. It would be a travesty if we talked on the phone more than we saw each other face to face.”
“Tonight?” Noah repeated. “But you’re in Chicago.”
“Am I?” he was still impressively casual, if he did say so himself.
There was a pause. “Where are you- are you driving?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Luke, pull over. That’s dangerous. If you get in a wreck, I-”
“Hands free phone, Mayer,” he grinned without meaning to. “Both of my hands are at the ten and two position, I swear.”
Noah was quiet for a moment. “You’re telling the truth?”
Something in Luke’s gut twisted at that, but he didn’t think hard enough to figure out why. “Promise,” he cleared his throat so Noah wouldn’t hear it crack. He could hear a smile through the line.
“So you’re, um, in town?” He could hear the slightest bit of hope and anticipation too.
“I might be,” he hedged, teasing. “Why, where are you?”
“Getting firewood, if you want specifics,” Noah chuckled. His laugh was ridiculous, something about it reminded Luke of Ethan, genuine and... innocent.
That twisty-gut feeling was almost back, and Luke pushed it away. And then registered Noah’s words. “Firewood? I would’ve thought you had your own...” his turn to panic. “Are you chopping firewood right now? While talking on the phone? You idiot, put whatever sharp thing you have down before you slice a finger off. Your assistant will kill me if anything happens to your hands, dumbass.”
“Wow, that was almost sweet,” Noah remarked dryly.
“I’m serious,” he insisted. He turned left onto the driveway of doom. “No Paul Bunyan-ing while you’re on the phone.”
An exasperated sigh was his answer. “That’s the only lumberjack name you can think of, isn’t it?”
“Don’t change the subject,” he scolded, parking next to Noah’s beat up old truck and jumping out. “Where are you? Behind the house?”
“Yeah, I’m- wait, where are you?” He could hear the echo of Noah’s voice, out loud, from around the corner.
“In front of the house,” he grinned.
There was the thunk sound of an axe burying into wood, and then Noah was walking toward him, phone still pressed to his ear. “Hey.”
Luke smiled. “Hey.” They ended the call at the same time, kind of staring, taking each other in. Luke kept his smile in place, kept it confident. Otherwise it’d reveal how much he wanted to gawk right now, with Noah standing in front of him like that. Noah was (understatement) a fan of layers, normally. Shirts on top of shirts on top of shirts. He’d probably wear a parka too if it wasn’t summer.
He was very much unlayered right now. Those torn and faded jeans, with (of course) a belt to hold them up, and a pair of scuffed up boots unlaced on his feet, like he’d pulled them on just for this and couldn’t wait to get out of them again. Luke really didn’t want to think about getting out of clothing right now.
He cleared his throat, brazenly looked Noah up and down to cover how it really made him feel, almost relieved when Noah started to blush and mumbled a quiet, “Shut up.”
“Paul Bunyan has nothing on you,” he said, watching the blush spread down Noah’s neck to his chest.
Noah didn’t even tell him to shut up this time. Just glared and ducked his head, grabbing his discarded shirt and whistling for Napoleon. The old dog got to his feet, having been sleeping on the woodpile. He ambled over to Luke, sniffing and tail wagging.
“Hey buddy,” Luke couldn’t stop his smile from softening, scratching behind Napoleon’s ears as they followed Noah to the house. Napoleon rumbled a happy greeting back, leaning into Luke’s leg as they moved.
Noah had regained some of his dignity by that point, waving Luke into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
“Sure,” Luke said softly, walking a slow circle around the room. It was only his second time inside the house, first time in the kitchen. He stopped at the big chalkboard that took up most of one of the walls. Noah was apparently using it as his memo pad, writing down deadlines and important dates on random spots, tacking up photos in the empty spaces.
He stopped at one particular picture. It was the older lady from the drugstore. She was leaning over her counter, smiling down at a little kid, handing over a lollipop. Neither she nor the child knew they were getting their picture taken. It was beautifully shot, perfectly framed. Warm and sweet. “You should give her a copy of this,” he commented without thinking.
“Huh?” Noah lifted his head from where it had been ducked into the fridge. “Who what?”
“The woman in this. You should give her a copy, I bet she’d love it.” Luke turned, accepting a glass of water from Noah. Noah had yet to offer or even mention alcohol of any kind, and Luke had to wonder about that. Had Faith told him...?
“I don’t know, it’d be weird,” Noah shrugged, using his flannel shirt to mop sweat off his face. “Hey, lady-I-don’t-know. Here’s a creepy photo I creepily took when you weren’t looking and then developed creepily without you knowing and hung up in my kitchen because I’m creepy.”
Luke eyed him skeptically. “It’s only creepy because you used the word ‘creepy.’ It’s a beautiful photograph, Noah. And if she’s anything like you made her look, she’d probably love it.”
“Like I made her look?” Noah was just confused now.
Luke gently grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to the picture. “Sweet. Motherly. Warm. I get that just from looking at it.”
Noah shook his head. “Portraits aren’t really my thing.”
“This isn’t a portrait,” he insisted. “It’s a moment. Moments aren’t your thing?”
“I don’t know,” Noah answered honestly. “I don’t think you or your sister realize it- I’m making this stuff up as I go along most of the time.”
“You need to give yourself more credit,” Luke said quietly, looking at the photograph and not Noah. When he did, Noah was composed, no sign of having reacted to that. Instead he smiled, shrugged a little, and moved over to the sink to fill Napoleon’s water dish. Luke followed him. “Do you think you’ll ever want... more than this?”
“What do you mean?” Noah kept his concentration on the sink, probably on purpose.
Luke shrugged the shoulder closer to Noah. “What do you want to be doing ten years from now? Still be here? New York? Back to Rome again?” He was only half-teasing.
Noah smiled quietly. “I don’t know. I’d- I like it here. I have a good thing here. A better thing than I’ve had... ever, maybe. My life right now is maybe the best it’s ever been.” He glanced at Luke, so quickly maybe they both imagined it, maybe they didn’t.
He blushed a little anyway. Because Noah had glanced at him. “But you might want more,” he guessed, trying to sound gentle.
He was surprised when Noah nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Everyone always wants more, don’t they? I’d love to have the opportunity to travel for this. Explore more of Europe, or some deserted island somewhere that no one’s ever been to. I’d like to... I don’t know, take pictures no one else ever has before.” He set the water dish down on a towel near the door, and Napoleon immediately dove for it. “What about you?”
Luke couldn’t help it; he ducked his head, mirroring Noah’s own bashful expression. “I know I want to do more than I am. Anything more.”
Noah frowned, more curious than anything else. “Why?”
Luke leaned back against the sink next to him, their shoulders just brushing. “My whole life, I’ve been stuck in places. In small towns or in people’s expectations or in my own bad choices. I want- I want something to break free of... of everything. I love writing. I still do, after years of classes and then writing obituaries for barely any money. I love it. I want, at some point, for it to be my life. It’s all I want. I don’t need anything else, you know?”
He turned to Noah as he said that last bit, but instead of Noah looking at him, nodding in understanding, Noah was right there. There was less of a second of hesitation, so quick that Luke maybe wondered if it was just an inhale, just getting ready, and so quick that before he realized it, Noah’s lips was on his.
It was gentle, almost like testing the waters, like maybe testing Luke’s reaction. So of course Luke didn’t react- he couldn’t. In the few weeks he’d known Noah (really known him), he wouldn’t picture Noah as a ‘making the first move’ kind of guy. But he was, and the kiss was over so fast. Noah pulled away, his eyes going hooded and carefully apologetic. Oh hell no.
Luke reached out, brought Noah’s face back to his. He kissed him this time, a little less quick. He drew it out, still gentle, but trying to show... something. Luke wasn’t even sure himself (of anything), but Noah’s lips were warm, soft, and they fit to his.
He felt Noah’s hands come up to his face, framing it just so. His hands were suddenly perfect, Luke realized. The size, the feel- Luke had never cared about a guy’s hands before, not like this. And no one had ever touched him like this before, like he was...
His knees shook. He wasn’t- okay, no one took care of Luke. Guys didn’t, anyway. He was his own person, he didn’t give himself over like that. Except for now, because all he did was lock his knees, open his mouth wider, hold on tighter. His hands slid down to Noah’s waist; he’d almost forgotten the skin there was bare. And muscled. And slick with sweat, which meant Luke’s hands slipped across his sides a little, which was definitely not a bad thing.
He pulled, pressing them closer. Noah let a soft sound escape, a moan or a sigh or both, Luke wasn’t sure. But it made his legs shake again, and the shudder he couldn’t stop just pushed them that much closer together. He could feel the heat of Noah’s bare chest through his suddenly frustratingly-thin (yet not thin enough) shirt.
Later, the next day sometime, Luke would look back at this and question the ethics of it. He wasn’t supposed to get involved with a story like this. But it was like there were two Lukes now. One was working on this story, was the Luke he’d always been.
But this Luke, right now, was new. He was the one who had started opening up in their silly phone conversations. He was just a person, all he was was what Noah knew about him. He was a writer and a brother, he liked Paris, he liked root beer floats, and he really liked the guy currently shoving a tongue down his throat.
He liked being this Luke.
Later he’d decide he was two Lukes, and it was okay to be both. He could have his story and have this guy, because he could be either Luke when he needed to be. And right now, he wanted to be this one.
Noah finally eased back, keeping their foreheads (and chests and hips) pressed together while he got his breath back under control. “Um...”
Luke laughed. “Um? You can’t kiss me like that and just say um,” he scolded, still holding on, his thumbs unconsciously drawing little circles into Noah’s waist.
One side of Noah’s mouth quirked upwards. “Maybe you fried my brain.”
“Well,” he leaned up a little, brushed a kiss across Noah’s jaw, “good for me.”
Noah’s laugh vibrated between their chests. “You’re a little insufferable, you know that?”
“Of course I am,” he murmured between more soft, sweet kisses. “Proud of it.”
Noah moved one hand under Luke’s chin, stopping his exploration of the long lines of Noah’s neck. He tilted Luke’s head up and then just... looked. He looked at Luke, studied his face, eyes bright and roaming everywhere. Luke couldn’t help but keep still. He wasn’t sure what Noah was looking at (or looking for), but this Luke really hoped he’d find it.
Noah smiled again, kept his hand under Luke’s chin and kissed him. Gently, like that first time. Luke wondered if every time after this would feel like the first time.
He leaned up again and, just kind of going on instinct, kissed the tip of Noah’s nose, grinning at his flushed face. And then he blushed himself when Noah’s arms moved down to wrap around his hips, holding him lose, tucking his face into Luke’s neck a little. Like all of a sudden this was catching up with him, all of a sudden it was real.
Maybe Noah and this Luke actually felt the same way about each other. And maybe whatever the other Luke had to deal with, he’d deal with tomorrow.
***
“I feel like we’ve pretty much covered everything at this point,” Charlene commented idly as they sat down together. “What else is there for you to know?” She seemed to be in a good mood today, almost happy (well, happy for her), and it made Luke hesitate.
“Actually,” he pulled a folder out of his bag and set it on the table between them. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.” He was other Luke now, and other Luke had wrestled with this decision for a few days. But ultimately, he had decided this would be good for the story. He needed the commentary, he needed the reaction. That new version of him wasn’t so sure about this.
“What’s that?” she looked down at the folder, but didn’t touch it. Waited, somehow knowing to prepare herself.
“I found your son,” he said as confidently and straightforwardly as he could. “Noah.”
She sat back as though the folder was a rattlesnake about to strike. “Excuse me?”
“Noah Mayer,” Luke hoped he didn’t sound too gentle or too patronizing or too anything. Just honest. “Age twenty-seven. He’s a photographer. About an hour from here.”
Charlene was so still and so quiet. “Luke Snyder,” she said, eyes firmly looking away from the folder and away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Nothing, yet,” he pulled the folder back closer to him. “I’m just letting you know. I found him.”
“And what does he think about your little interview project?” her voice was tightly wound and barely controlled.
“He doesn’t know,” Luke answered. “He doesn’t know me.” Half true. “He’s not a part of this.” Very true.
“He doesn’t... know about me?” she asked carefully.
He shook his head. “No. I just wanted you to know he’s real, Charlene.” It was the first time he’d called her by her first name. “He exists. He exists like an hour from here.”
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked again.
“Like it or not, you have to admit- he’s a part of your story. And yeah, sure, how much of a part is up to you. But you can’t brush away this vague, abstract idea of a son anymore. He’s real and he’s really yours,” Luke held himself back from pleading, but he... he wanted this. “If you ever want to meet him-”
“No,” she cut in sharply. Then, quieter, “No. I don’t. I don’t think I can.” He felt like sighing, almost did, when finally she looked up at him, cautious. “He’s a photographer?”
“Owns his own studio.” And he had to add, “He’s really good.”
“Does he...” she stopped, that piercing look back. “You’ve talked to him.”
“No,” he said immediately, not ready for that. “I’ve been to his town, yeah. I’ve researched. Asked around. He has no idea about you and me. But he could if you want to.”
“I don’t,” Charlene said immediately, insistent this time. “Look, kid, I appreciate what you’re trying to- well, no, I don’t appreciate it. But I understand what you’re trying to do.” A deep breath, “But you have to stop. It’s not your job to interfere with this.” She pointed at the folder but wouldn’t reach for it. “This is my life. And his life. They’re separate. And I don’t want to meet him, he doesn’t want to meet me, and you can’t change that.”
He couldn’t accept that. He knew Noah, and he knew she would change her mind if she just met him, just once. “Will you at least consider it?”
“You think I haven’t considered it in the last twenty-five years?” she snapped. “I’ve considered and weighed the options and listed the pros and cons. I’m not really his mother. I’m just some woman he’s never known. He’s not really my son. My son was three. This- he’s... he’s just a person now. And so am I.” She shook her head, defiant and determined. “It’s better this way.”
It wasn’t, but there wasn’t much he could say (not yet, at least). But he didn’t move the folder. He kept it in front of him, flipped through it once more, shut it. He was taking a chance, he knew that, but dangling the carrot usually worked.
“Did he seem... okay?” she ventured.
He hesitated before nodding. “He lives alone. Well, with a dog. But it looks like he keeps to himself. Runs a studio on his property, went to college at Columbia.” Her eyebrows raised, so he continued, “He’s gay-” and dating someone, but no way in hell was he saying that. “He... I think that’s part of what set your ex-husband off the deep end. I couldn’t find much, but I don’t think his coming out went particularly well.”
‘Couldn’t find much’ was actually true, because it was still something Noah didn’t talk to him about. And Faith knew something, Luke was sure she did, but she wasn’t telling either. It made Luke even more determined to find out. But for now, right now, he leveled another look at Charlene. Noah’s mother. “But from what I can gather, he’s a good guy. The kind of person a mo-”
“Don’t call me his mother, Luke. We’ve been over this,” she shook her head.
“You are, though,” he argued. Maybe he kept his voice down, but he made sure he was still obstinate. “This is him, Charlene.” He pushed the folder closer to her once again. “He’s real.”
She wouldn’t touch it. “Not to me.”
***
“When’s the McMillan project deadline?” Faith called across the room.
“Um,” Noah was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, cleaning one of his cameras. “October 3rd, I think.” Napoleon was stretched across the actual couch, snoring loud enough for both of them to hear.
She frowned, adding it to the schedule on the computer. “You do realize you’re double-booked two weeks after that, right? That gallery in Chicago, and the historical society thing here?”
“I like being busy,” he reminded her for the third time that day.
“Oh yeah, is that why you’ve been going out with Luke like every other night?” she grinned to herself, watching for his reaction in the computer screen’s reflection.
She could see the blush. “None of your business,” he mumbled, focused on his camera lens.
“Hey, I think I’ve been very good about all of this,” she said. “I haven’t once asked you what your intentions towards my brother are, so-”
“I think you lost that right when you set us up in the first place,” Noah argued without any bite.
And she wasn’t a bit sorry. “So what are you doing tonight, then? My brother?”
He opened and shut his mouth a few times, caught. “I could fire you, you know.”
She spun around in her chair, finally facing him. “Yeah, but then you’d have to start all over again with the computer. Do you really want to risk that?”
He tilted his head to the side, considering, then gave a long-suffering sigh. “No, I guess not.”
“You better get used to that sigh if you’re going to be dating Luke,” she said, grinning.
“I didn’t have this sigh before I dated Luke,” he fired back. (He was smiling too.)
She would’ve said more, she would’ve teased him more definitely, but the chime of her cell phone interrupted the inquisition. (The back of her brain wondered how he’d hold up against a full-on Snyder Inquisition. The rest of her brain had to remind her that he’d probably never meet the Snyders, because this was all for a story. Why had she set them up again? Because they both look happy. God, she was an idiot.)
She checked her phone instead. You haven’t called in a few days. Check in please? Love you. From her mother. Of course. Was she going to have to ‘check in’ until she was fifty?
Noah caught her unconscious eye roll. “Luke?” he guessed.
She shook her head. “Mom,” she tucked the phone back in her pocket. “She expects me to still be at her beck and call, on her schedule, like I was when I was twelve. And then she lectures me about growing up, but I can’t do both if she keeps-” she cuts herself off. “Sorry.”
Noah frowned, confused. “For what?”
She fidgeted. Stupid mouth. Stupid brain letting stupid mouth talk. “Ranting about my mom when you...” she stopped again, gesturing awkwardly at nothing.
Noah looked about as uncomfortable as she felt, but he still smiled. Tried, at least. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to censor anything just because,” he kinda laughed. “I told you I lost my parents- it’s true, I guess. But they didn’t die. They’re both alive, as far as I know. But...” he stopped, looked away for a second.
Faith held perfectly still. She was almost terrified. Suddenly, she felt way too ill-equipped to handle this, all of this. She wasn’t cut out to be a journalist. Not like Luke. She cared way too much right now. She could hurt him. Faith didn’t want to; she didn’t want to do this. For the fifty-billionth time, she wished she really was just Faith Snyder, Noah’s assistant. Not a... spy. A liar. She wished she was still young enough to only have her mom’s craziness to worry about.
Noah was completely unaware of all this, her internal war. “My mother left me when I was three. My dad left me when I was eighteen.” He shrugged, as though that was the whole story. Even if she didn’t secretly know there was more, she’d know there was now. His face...
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She wished she could tell him how much.
He shrugged again. “My father’s in prison now. My mother is... she’s out there, somewhere, I guess. She never, um, she’s never sought me out.” He paused when Napoleon got up off the couch and plopped down in his lap instead. Like he knew. Noah ran his hand along the dog’s back, half-smiling. “I’m probably supposed to say, you know, you should appreciate what you have, at least your mom cares, whatever.”
It hurt to smile, but she did. “But?”
“But,” he echoed. “I have no ground to stand on, experience-wise. Just remember she’s your mom, you can’t ever change that. She can’t either.” One more shrug. “Doesn’t sound like she wants to.”
Faith bit her lip. “Yeah,” was all she could say. “Would you... did you ever try to find your mom?”
He shook his head, looking down at Napoleon, smiling when the dog whined and butted him in the chest. “After... after everything? No, I don’t think it’d be healthy for me, to borrow a shrink-phrase.” He tried to make that sound like a joke, but it so painfully wasn’t. “There are things I’ve accepted, and things I can’t. She doesn’t want me, that’s fine. Having a stranger be my- my mother? Not for me.” He sounded actually okay with that. Knowing him, he probably was.
Faith still wanted to cry. She liked Noah. She knew Luke did too. She shouldn’t be here. “Um,” she cleared her throat. “I’ve got to get going. Your schedule’s all set up for the next three months, if you want to look it over.” She gathered her things, unable to look him in the eye.
“Okay,” he sounded so steady. “Sorry to kill the mood,” he offered. And that was nice of him. He was nice. She hated it. That. Him. Herself. Luke and Emily. Charlene.
“No, I swear, it’s okay.” She smiled as he stood up, shaking off Napoleon, and joined her at the door. Then, impulsively, she threw her arms around him. “See you tomorrow,” she mumbled into his shoulder.
His arms came around her after a startled hesitation. “Okay,” he said, patting her on the back. When she pulled away, he studied her face, concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” she smiled when Napoleon joined them, nudging them both so he could stand between their legs. “Just... just stuff with my mom, and, you know...” she trailed off. She didn’t even know, how could he?
But he nodded, smiled again. “Okay. Good job today. Sorry it was all computer stuff, tomorrow we’ll do something more fun.”
“Okay.” She wanted to hug him again, but instead turned and headed for Hunter’s old car. For the first time in years maybe, she really just wanted her mom to be there and make everything okay.
***
“Hm,” Luke sipped his drink as he thought about it. “Girl? Becca Ford, fifth grade. But I guess that doesn’t count. Guy- he was from the news station I interned at the summer after high school graduation. Roth. I was seventeen.” He leaned back against the tree they were sitting under, nudged Noah’s knee with his own. “Your turn. First kiss.”
“Gabe Johansson. Seventeen, during finals week, senior year of high school,” Noah nodded to himself, letting his shoulder rest more against Luke’s. The remains of their dinner was spread out on the blanket in front of them. A picnic. Luke would’ve shaken his head at how cheesy it was... but it wasn’t cheesy. Not like this, for some reason. “Last kiss?” Noah suggested.
“You,” Luke duh’ed, leaning over to prove it, quick and sweet against his lips.
Noah smirked a little, rolling his eyes. “Before me,” he clarified.
Luke stilled, looking down at his hands. How honest did he want to be here? “A guy named Justin. I don’t think we ever learned last names. Didn’t need to.” He let that explain things, and Noah just gave a little nod, understanding. “Last relationship was four years ago. Boyfriend from home, before I moved to Chicago.”
“What happened?” Noah asked softly, his weight against Luke’s side warm and comforting, not oppressive.
“He died,” Luke couldn’t figure out how else to say it. “Car accident. We’d had a huge fight. On our way to breaking up, it was going to happen, we could both feel it. He wanted to get out of that town. And I was... stubborn.”
Noah brushed a kiss across his forehead. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said gently.
Luke smiled a little, leaned more into him. They were propping each other up, more than the tree was. “I didn’t want to change anything. I was scared. I couldn’t leave town, but I couldn’t leave him. So we both just got more and more miserable. Couldn’t admit it was time to move on.”
“Then he died?”
Luke nodded. “I told him I wished I’d never met him, that he was ruining my life, forcing me to be his trophy boyfriend, but he couldn’t do anything for me. He called me a spoiled child, said I was playing make-believe, that he was my only chance at settling down or whatever. I told him to go to hell. He got into his car, drove away.” He bit his lip, squeezing Noah’s hand when it slipped into his. “Next time I saw him was to identify his body in the morgue.”
Noah studied him, but without the intensity that would make Luke feel suffocated. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Is that why you moved to Chicago?”
“Yeah. People started treat me like, I don’t know, either a victim or a... a leper. I hated that people were expecting me to have a breakdown. My family, mostly. And everyone elsetreated me like I was a curse. So one morning I packed my stuff and drove to Chicago without telling anyone. Started over. I haven’t been ‘me’ since then.” He squeezed Noah’s hand again. Until now.
Noah smiled like he knew- maybe he did?- and kissed his forehead again. Luke had to smile into it. He’d never felt this okay, this settled, after talking (or thinking) about Reid. “You okay?” Noah asked, like he needed the confirmation.
“Yeah,” Luke breathed out, directing the smile at Noah. He leaned his head down on Noah’s shoulder, nestling in. “Let me guess, you’ve got a traumatic story for your last relationship too?”
Noah huffed a short laugh, confirming it. “Ain’t we a pair?” he murmured, his cheek resting in Luke’s hair.
Luke pulled Noah’s hand more into his lap, traced his fingers playfully. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he repeated Noah’s words from earlier.
Noah laughed a little again. “That wouldn’t be fair, would it?” He was silent for a minute, then started talking again. “Gabe was my first and last relationship. It lasted seven weeks before my dad found out about us.”
“Uh-oh?” Luke guessed, hoping he sounded as gentle as Noah had with him.
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “He didn’t react well.”
“How bad?” he asked, scared of the answer.
“He gave me a concussion and broke my collarbone,” Noah said it so matter-of-factly, but also carefully- like he was worried about Luke’s reaction.
Luke closed his eyes, took a slow breath in and out. “And then?”
“He disappeared, evaded police and all that. By the time I was released from the hospital, he got arrested for almost killing some woman in Chicago.” Some woman being Charlene, Luke realized. “I didn’t handle it well. I, uh, got addicted to the painkillers I was on. Spent the first year and a half of college screwing everything up.”
He brought Noah’s hand up to his mouth, kissed it softly. “Then things changed?”
“Yeah,” he said, almost grateful he didn’t have to go into details. “Got into counseling and rehab and all of it. School was all I had, and they threatened to kick me out. So I had to.”
“I’m glad you did.” Luke thought of Faith, of his own drinking problem, his mother...how bad so many things could have gone. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
He could feel Noah’s small smile. “Napoleon was my therapy dog.”
“Really?” Luke looked up at him, surprised.
Noah nodded. “He was supposed to be a police dog, but some defect- he didn’t have the sense of smell bloodhounds usually do. They donated him to the therapy program instead. And we found each other.”
Luke smiled,thinking of the pair of them. “They let you keep him?”
“About a year after I graduated college, my old therapist contacted me to say they were retiring him. I adopted him the next day.” He could feel Noah’s smile, peaceful, satisfied, like he was glad he’d done something right.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, half without meaning to, definitely hoping Noah didn’t hear him.
He did, of course, but he just shrugged. “Not really.” He leaned in, so close. “But- but I like that you think so.”
Luke closed the distance between them. They kissed slowly, but deeper and deeper, grasping tight. He tasted sweet, the strawberries they’d eaten with dinner. He pushed as Noah pulled, and suddenly there he was straddling Noah’s lap against that tree. Everything intensified, everything heavy and rushed and just necessary. For both of them.
They hadn’t had this, something real, someone kissing Luke for Luke and Noah for Noah in... maybe ever. Luke couldn’t be sure anymore. He’d never had what his parents have, what Casey and Maddie have. Was this it? This Luke was starting to think it maybe was.
So what the hell was he supposed to do with that other Luke?
***
He bit his lip, shifting left and right, as Casey’s eyes scanned the pages, one line after the other. Slowly. Very slowly. “Well?”
“Hang on,” Casey held up a middle finger, still reading.
Luke shifted around some more. Casey was still scanning. “What grade reading level did you test at?” he snapped.
“Grade Fuck Off,” Casey fired back absentmindedly. “I’m in the legal business, Snyder. We read everything with a fine-toothed comb.”
“Comb faster,” he whined.
Casey kept his middle finger up until he finished. “Okay,” he set the papers down between them. “Done.”
That was all he said. Luke stared. “Well?” he practically growled.
Casey drew it out as long as he could before grinning widely. “It’s really good, Luke. Really good. You could submit it as is, and it’d be a hit.”
He stopped fidgeting, almost surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah, man. It leaves me really wanting you to bring these two together, just to see what would happen, you know? I, wow, I kinda want them to have a happy ending. Even the psycho loner.”
“He’s not a psycho,” Luke said immediately, insisting.
Too insistent. Casey raised his eyebrows. “You and Faith are getting kinda attached to this guy,” he commented, a little too casually.
And yet, Luke still couldn’t help but rise to the bait. “Noah’s been through a lot. And he’s a great guy. You don’t know him, how he treats Faith and me, and-” he stopped at the new look on Casey’s face. “What?”
“Oh my God, Luke, are you in love with this guy?”
“I...” he meant to deny it right away, of course he wasn’t, but his brain stalled.
Which was why he also couldn’t figure out why Casey was smiling. “Luke,” he said kindly. “You really like him. It’s okay, you know.”
“He’s my story,” he countered, surprised at how weak his argument ended up sounding.
“Really?” Casey shook his head indulgently. “Luke buddy, it’s okay to care about somebody again. It’s been years since-”
“I’m not in love with him,” Luke tried to sound more confident this time, but it came off sounding more panicked than anything else.
“Then how come you haven’t turned this story in to Emily yet?”
He opened his mouth to explain, but his brain stalled again. Because...? “I only uploaded a first draft.” Casey’s expression told him that wasn’t good enough, so he tried again. “It’s not done yet.”
“You’re not done yet,” Casey corrected. “With Noah. You and Faith, you’re making him a part of your lives.” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing now. “You’re staying in this story too long, man. All three of you are going to get hurt, you know this.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do, Case?” he burst out. “Because you’re right. I- I’ve never felt this way about a guy before. He treats me like I’m... and Faith, he’s so good with her. What am I supposed to do?” He was begging now. “Tell me.”
“Luke,” Casey tried.
But he was on a roll now. “Yeah. As soon as he finds out the truth, Faith and I will have to leave him. He’ll hate me, maybe both of us. So yeah, I’m prolonging this. Because I’m not ready to let him go. I’m not ready to go back to the nothing bullshit that I was. He doesn’t treat me like I’m nothing,” he stopped, out of breath. They were both quiet for a long time.
“I don’t know,” Casey finally said, actually sounding sorry. “I really don’t know, Luke.”
Luke stared at his papers, his wonderful, horrible story. “Me either.”
***
Faith capped and uncapped the lens of her camera, staring at nothing. Noah had been in such a good mood today, and she had to think it had something to do with his date with Luke the night before. She should be happy for him, for both of them. She should be proud that she had started it. She just felt uneasy, sick to her stomach.
Why did you leave your first job?
Oh, well, I’d been posing as an assistant in order to get my brother a news story, and I set my boss and brother up, and they got along great, but then we had to tell the truth and now we’re all miserable.
She couldn’t exactly put that on her resumé. A hand touched her shoulder out of nowhere. She jumped, nearly dropping her camera. “Jesus, Hunter! We talked about this.”
“Pepper spray. Right. Sorry,” he sat down out of hitting distance. “I said your name like four times. You didn’t answer.”
“Oh. Sorry,” she said, maybe a little sheepish.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at her way too earnestly.
She hesitated, shrugged a shoulder, frowned. “I don’t know. No.” She put her camera away carefully. “I think doing this was a big mistake.”
“The pretending?” he guessed.
“Yeah. I think I hate it more and more each day. Because,” she lowered her voice. “I like this job. And I like Noah, and I like him and Luke together, they’re so good for each other it’s almost stupidly perfect, you know?”
“Um, kinda? I guess?” Hunter was trying to keep up with her, she had to give him that.
“If it was just that, there’d be nothing to worry about. Things would be... perfect. But the lying to Noah, and how much it’s gonna hurt them to be apart, I just... Luke hasn’t gone out and picked up random guys since he started dating Noah.”
“Oh.” Hunter could not look more confused now.
“And that’s a good thing,” she explained. “He’s been empty since Reid died, since before Reid died. This is the first time I’ve seen him excited about something besides work in years.” She felt like shoving the camera away, breaking it. “And Noah seems like he’s been the same way. And if we leave him, what’s he going to do? And, God, Napoleon isn’t a young dog. When he loses him too, what’s he going to have?”
“S-so, what do we do?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. I hate it. I mean, when all this is over- is Noah going to better or worse off for having met us? I don’t know. I don’t know.” She wanted to glare at him, but couldn’t work up the energy to open her eyes. “Why did Emily make us do this?”
Hunter didn’t answer at first, and it was enough to get her to open her eyes. His own eyes were downcast, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt sleeve. “I, um, think she has a soft spot for reuniting mothers and long lost sons,” he said quietly.
“Oh.” Faith sagged back in her seat. “Damn it.” And didn’t that complicate things even more. “What do you think we should do?”
Hunter’s head whipped up, startled. “What do I think?”
“From the long lost son perspective. Are we doing the right thing? Should we tell Noah? Should we just worry about the story? What?” she was desperate, she didn’t care how she sounded. “This whole thing is going to suck no matter what.”
“Emily and I had a, you know, kind of different reunion than Noah and his mother would have. I can’t really speak for them,” he hedged an answer. “But, as- as someone who’s left in the dark a lot? You should tell him the truth. If you look at this like a science experiment, what are the possible outcomes?”
“God, I don’t know, Bill Nye. Tell me,” she huffed, crossing her arms.
He ignored the attitude. “Either you never tell him, Luke stays with him, and the lie is always hanging between them. Not good. You tell him, he’s mad at you. You don’t tell him, the article comes out, he finds out what we’re doing, he’s really mad at you.”
Her eyes were a little too wide-eyed to be glaring. “None of those are good outcomes, Hunter!”
“No, yeah, I know, but...” Hunter scooted closer to her. “Think about the outcomes. You tell him now, logically, that’s the best chance for him to forgive you and Luke. Us.”
“Not a guarantee,” she said, pouting.
“No,” he admitted. “But best likelihood. I think it’s too late for a guarantee.”
Faith was quiet for a minute, maybe two. “This completely sucks, but, well, thanks for trying Hunter.” He blushed and nearly ripped his sleeve pulling on the thread. “But,” she groaned, not done, and ran a hand through her hair. “One final problem with no solution- it’s not up to me to tell Noah anything.”
Hunter considered it for a moment. “Luke?”
“Luke,” she sighed. “Luke has to be the one to tell him.”
***
Luke was, not a shock, used to waking up in unfamiliar places. That seemed to surprise people, considering he didn’t drink, but hey- there are always other ways of losing yourself. He was practically an expert. So, waking up now to an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar room, he wasn’t too concerned.
He blinked at the ceiling a few times, mentally running through his checklist. In a bed? Yes. Clothed? No. Sore? Yes. In a good way. He stretched slowly, fingers to toes, and the movement caused an arm he didn’t even realize was draped around him to tighten across him a little.
And then Luke remembered the night before.
Noah.
They managed to burst through the door to the bedroom and shed their clothing without losing contact, which was important. It was vital. Luke had to touch Noah, and it seemed pretty obvious that Noah had to touch him too. It was more than want.
Noah was breathless, giddy, open in a way Luke wasn’t sure he could’ve ever pictured Noah being, the wide grin on his face not tempered with wariness or that ‘soldiering on’ thing he got so often. He freed his arms of that last pesky sleeve and grabbed for Luke’s face again, pulling it back to his.
Luke let himself be pulled, laughing into Noah’s kiss, kicking away his shoes. His own fingers were hooked and tangled in the belt loops of Noah’s jeans, and he actually had to concentrate for a moment to free them, yank at the buckle there instead.
He had about a second to celebrate his success there before he was falling back, happily, pulling Noah with him, and they landed together in a pile of limbs and hands and less and less clothes.
Luke smiled, turned slowly onto his side into the warmth lying next to him. Noah was blinking fuzzily, facing him, that one arm still wrapped comfortably around Luke. (It really was comfortable. He didn’t even want to pretend otherwise.) “Hey,” he whispered, smiling a little, rubbing Noah’s arm.
Noah smiled back, all sleepy and happy. “Morning.” He did the opposite of stretching, curling in some more so his legs tangled with Luke’s, bringing them a little closer together. He bit his lip like he was trying to swallow back the smile and not seem to eager. “‘M glad you’re still here.”
His smile didn’t falter, but he felt a little... guilty, probably. Guilt was probably what this was. Maybe shame. It was like his reputation was still preceding him, and even Noah knew him as a ‘one night stand’ guy. He tried to make the smile wider. “Well-”
Noah was suddenly more awake. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I didn’t-” he stopped, started again, that bashful smile in place. “I meant, I don’t normally get, um, mornings after. As a, you know...” he stopped again, squeezing his eyes shut to hide. “Can we go back to sleep and start over?”
Shame long gone, he grinned easier, bringing his hand up to lay against the side of Noah’s face, rubbing his thumb in little strokes across his cheekbone to get him to open his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered again.
Noah smiled back. “Morning,” he said again too.
Luke leaned in, kissed him softly. “Breakfast?”
Noah studied him for a moment. “Are you requesting or offering?”
“Wow,” Luke sighed, “It’s like you don’t even know me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known.” He rolled onto his back with a groan. “What do you want me to make?”
He pretended to think about it. “Hmmmm,” he rolled with Noah, landing on top of him, folding his hands over Noah’s chest and resting his chin on them. “You.”
He felt Noah’s laugh as much as heard it. “That was not your best line, Snyder.” And yet, his arms came up and around, hands linking at the small of Luke’s back and holding on. “You might not deserve waffles.”
“Oh-my-god-waffles-yes-please,” he grinned, saying it all in one breath and one word. “You are the greatest man ever and I worship you.” Noah flinched. He obviously tried not to, he tried to hide it, but he flinched. He tried to shift a little, but Luke pressed down more of his weight, holding him there. “Noah?”
Noah let out another laugh, but it wasn’t as light as before. “It’s nothing.”
“Not nothing,” he argued, pressing down some more. “What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t really shrug with Luke holding down like that, but Luke could sense the movement anyway. “I never really... I never really thought this would happen to me.” One side of his mouth lifted up. “I’m not good at dealing with good things, Luke. And this- you and me- it’s a good thing.”
“I think it’s good too,” he murmured.
It made Noah smile a little more. One of his hands came up to Luke’s hair, playing with the strands. “When I was messed up and everything, I got used to being... to bad things happening. My dad hit me, my boyfriend left me instead of seeing if I was alive, my mother never even bothered with that, the only thing that didn’t seem like it was killing me was pills and- and more stuff like that. I couldn’t keep my head above water, you know? I did anything, took anything, to feel like I wasn’t...”
Luke tilted his head down, kissed the muscle and skin over Noah’s heart. “I know.” He did, in a way. He understood.
“I loved watching movies, it was like looking at a different world. Heroes win, happy endings, all that. And sometimes I could even believe... maybe that stuff happens in real life. Not to me, sure, but maybe someone somewhere actually got those things and was happy.” Noah did that not-shrug thing again. “I have always- always- been okay with not getting what I want.”
“Noah...” Okay, maybe that was something he didn’t relate to. But to hear it like this...
And then he smiled so sweetly. “I was okay with it, I mean it. It felt like I could handle anything that got thrown at me. I didn’t have to want happy endings. I didn’t need someone to- to say nice things to me. I didn’t need anyone for anything. I wasn’t happy, but I was fine.”
No you weren’t, he wanted to argue. But wisely, somehow, he kept his mouth shut, kissing him gently instead.
Noah carded his hand through Luke’s hair, really looking at him now. Still smiling. “And the reason I’m telling you all this is because since you- and your sister- showed up here? I’ve been, I don’t know, thinking about happy endings. Not in a movie way.”
Luke studied him for a minute, then reached back and pulled Noah’s hand away, bringing it forward in both his hands. “Baby, that’s a really roundabout way of saying you’re happy.”
He’d never called anyone ‘baby’ before, it just slipped out. For a second, just a second, he wanted to snatch is back. But then a second later, the blush and smile on Noah’s face made him reconsider. Maybe his instincts with Noah were okay, then. They kissed slowly, deeply, encompassing as much as they could. He pulled back to catch his breath. “Noah?”
“Yeah?” Noah squeezed his hand.
And it was then, right then, that Luke almost did it. Almost told Noah everything- Charlene, the story, Faith. He almost told Noah he was falling for him. (Wait, was falling? Had fallen. Hard.) He almost confessed everything. He wanted to, so badly. Needed to. So he leaned in close again, kissed Noah softly, and opened his mouth. “I’m happy too,” was all that came out.
Noah smiled wide at him, pulled him impossibly closer. That was the last talking either of them did for the rest of the morning.
***
“You’re practically skipping, dude. I don’t like it,” Casey grumbled.
Luke smirked, waving his coffee cup around. “You could have caffeine, you know. It might make you a little sunnier.”
Casey groaned. “Maddie and I have a deal. If she can’t drink alcohol or coffee, neither can I. Not until she has the baby.”
“So drink some at work, it’s not like she’ll know,” Luke said.
“No.” Casey looked at him, wide eyed. “She’ll know.” They got off the elevator and walked into the office. “Besides, it’s not Starbucks that’s making you this way. You got lucky this weekend, didn’t you?”
“Lucky being the operative word,” he mumbled. Casey, thankfully, let that one go.
“Hey Luke,” one of the bullpen voices called out. “Great job!”
“Thanks,” he replied, pretty much unconsciously.
“Great job on what?” Casey asked, following him to his office.
He shrugged. “No clue. But I’ll take it.” They waved at Georgie, who gave Luke a pointed look. Uh-oh. He slowed down by her desk. “What did I do?”
“Nothing yet,” she always sounded like she was half a minute away from a lecture. “A copy of the edition is on your desk, I’ve been fielding a few calls to your extension already this morning.”
“Edition?” he repeated, confused.
“Of the paper,” Georgie said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word.
Which it wasn’t. “What?”
“Luke!” someone else, Ryan maybe, walked past, clapped him on the shoulder. “Great article, man. I think it’s your best yet.”
Article?
Article.
He stared at Casey, wide eyed and starting to panic. Casey connected the dots a second after him, let out an “oh shit,” and dashed off to Luke’s office. Luke couldn’t follow. His feet were rooted to the floor by the reception desk. No. No, there’s no way. It couldn’t possibly be-
“Luke,” Casey was back in front of him, looking worried and sick. “Did you- that, that rough draft you showed me. Did you...?” He was holding the morning’s edition of the paper in his hand. Luke’s eyes were drawn to it. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tiny little square picture under the byline was definitely him.
The article was his article. About Charlene. About Noah. As if by magic, his cell phone started to ring. Without taking his eyes off of Casey and the paper, he pulled it out of his pocket, put it to his ear. “Hello?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Luke!” Faith sounded somewhere between worried and really worried. “Something’s going on. Something’s wrong. Have you heard from Noah this morning?”
“No,” he kept his answers short. Otherwise something in him would burst. The world would end. Something.
“The studio's locked,” she kept on, not realizing that the floor was slowly swallowing him up, a bit at a time. “It’s dark, I can’t get in. And the house is locked too, I can’t find him anywhere. But his truck his here. I don’t... something’s wrong, Luke. What’s going on?”
He was frozen. He was ‘this Luke’ and ‘that Luke’, and both were panicked. Neither knew what to do. “I-” his voice caught, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m on my way.”
Both Lukes were pretty sure it was already too late.
( Chapter 4)
Chapter: 3/4
Author: carolinablu85
Pairing/Characters: Luke/Noah, Faith, Charlene, Casey, Hunter, Maddie, Emily
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9,480
Spoilers/Warnings: AU with some canon borrowing, brief brief mentions of Luke/other and Noah/other, brief/vague mentions of drug use
Summary: Luke’s problem is that his latest assignment- interviewing a retired madame- isn’t going to be his big break into the journalism scene. And he can’t admit to anyone, especially himself, that he’s maybe falling for her long-lost son. Faith’s problem is that posing as Noah’s assistant so her brother can get information for his article feels wrong. And she can’t shake the feeling that these two would be perfect for each other. Noah’s problem is that after years of being alone, he isn’t sure how to open up to two very loud, very amazing people. And he’s scared by how much he wants to.
Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of merit.
A/N: For jessnic85, who have a mother with excellent taste.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
"Okay, seriously? You never had a boyfriend in college?”
“Seriously.”
“Just random hookups?”
“I wouldn’t say they were random. I mean, I planned them ahead of time-”
“Of course you did.”
“Shut up. I meant I didn’t hook up with strangers. I knew the guys.”
“But no boyfriends? I can’t believe that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re just... I- I don’t know. You’re very monogamous-y.”
“...For a writer, your vocabulary is appalling.”
“You shut up.”
***
“You haven’t seen him since?”
“You mean since he faked his death and tried to frame my dad for the murder? Nope.”
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been...”
“It was, but it’s okay now. He’s far away. Again. And my mom and dad are finally back together, again, so things are good. On that front, at least.”
“And on other fronts?”
“I don’t... nothing’s ever gonna be perfect, right?”
“I guess. But look at it this way, if Damian ever comes back, you’ll be ready this time. Not confused or angry, but ready.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nobody’s ever put it that way before.”
***
“Why aren’t you and Ameera that close?”
“...”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t know how to- we, we didn’t meet until my father was arrested. We didn’t know each other existed until then.”
“Shouldn’t that have been a happy thing?”
“She came to defend my father.”
“...Oh.”
“She grew up with a different version of him than I did. She didn’t know what he... She took his side, tried to clear his name.”
“And you didn’t.”
“I knew what he was really like. I was angry back then. I didn’t want to give her a chance, not if she could still somehow love him after what he did. It’s still hard for me sometimes, to look at her and not see what she defended.”
“Do you still hate him?”
“Sometimes, yeah, I still do.”
***
“Paris, definitely. It was a small restaurant, nice but not the fanciest, and it looked out at the Eiffel Tower so we could see when it lit up at night. You?”
“Well, now mine sounds stupid.”
“Come on, Mayer. Share.”
“You chose Paris, that’s not fair! I’ve been to Rome, but I didn’t really date anyone there.”
“I don’t need an outlandish answer, just your real one. What was your favorite date you’ve ever been on?”
“In New York. We got takeout from this really great place down the block from my apartment, best Thai food in the city. And we just... I don’t know, hung out. Got to know each other without things in the way. Watched a really bad movie, and when he could make fun of it as well as I could, I was happy.”
“...”
“What?”
“Nothing. I really like Thai food.”
***
“This doesn’t count as a date, does it?” Noah’s voice went all timid in that way he got sometimes.
Luke couldn’t stop himself from smiling, glad Noah couldn’t see him. Glad no one could see him. “This? Talking on the phone?”
“Yeah. Does it- I mean, I haven’t dated in a really long time. Does this count as one?”
“Why do you ask?” He didn’t even need GPS anymore, he knew the route from Chicago to this town perfectly. He pulled off the exit, readjusting the earpiece for his phone.
“Because you’re supposed to... do stuff. On a date. Like, dinner and- and I don’t know. If this is a date, I don’t think I’m a very good one,” he admitted, trying to sound like he was joking even though Luke was pretty sure he wasn’t. Adorable, yes. Joking, no. (Luke reminded himself that he wasn’t falling for the adorable bit.)
“How many ‘real’ dates have we had?” he asked, keeping casual.
“Two,” Noah answered immediately.
“And how many phone dates have we had?”
“Four,” he answered just as quickly.
Luke should laugh at him. Because it wasn’t like he was keeping track of how often they talked or hung out. He wasn’t. Totally wasn’t. Nope. “Well then, either way we should have dinner tonight. It would be a travesty if we talked on the phone more than we saw each other face to face.”
“Tonight?” Noah repeated. “But you’re in Chicago.”
“Am I?” he was still impressively casual, if he did say so himself.
There was a pause. “Where are you- are you driving?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Luke, pull over. That’s dangerous. If you get in a wreck, I-”
“Hands free phone, Mayer,” he grinned without meaning to. “Both of my hands are at the ten and two position, I swear.”
Noah was quiet for a moment. “You’re telling the truth?”
Something in Luke’s gut twisted at that, but he didn’t think hard enough to figure out why. “Promise,” he cleared his throat so Noah wouldn’t hear it crack. He could hear a smile through the line.
“So you’re, um, in town?” He could hear the slightest bit of hope and anticipation too.
“I might be,” he hedged, teasing. “Why, where are you?”
“Getting firewood, if you want specifics,” Noah chuckled. His laugh was ridiculous, something about it reminded Luke of Ethan, genuine and... innocent.
That twisty-gut feeling was almost back, and Luke pushed it away. And then registered Noah’s words. “Firewood? I would’ve thought you had your own...” his turn to panic. “Are you chopping firewood right now? While talking on the phone? You idiot, put whatever sharp thing you have down before you slice a finger off. Your assistant will kill me if anything happens to your hands, dumbass.”
“Wow, that was almost sweet,” Noah remarked dryly.
“I’m serious,” he insisted. He turned left onto the driveway of doom. “No Paul Bunyan-ing while you’re on the phone.”
An exasperated sigh was his answer. “That’s the only lumberjack name you can think of, isn’t it?”
“Don’t change the subject,” he scolded, parking next to Noah’s beat up old truck and jumping out. “Where are you? Behind the house?”
“Yeah, I’m- wait, where are you?” He could hear the echo of Noah’s voice, out loud, from around the corner.
“In front of the house,” he grinned.
There was the thunk sound of an axe burying into wood, and then Noah was walking toward him, phone still pressed to his ear. “Hey.”
Luke smiled. “Hey.” They ended the call at the same time, kind of staring, taking each other in. Luke kept his smile in place, kept it confident. Otherwise it’d reveal how much he wanted to gawk right now, with Noah standing in front of him like that. Noah was (understatement) a fan of layers, normally. Shirts on top of shirts on top of shirts. He’d probably wear a parka too if it wasn’t summer.
He was very much unlayered right now. Those torn and faded jeans, with (of course) a belt to hold them up, and a pair of scuffed up boots unlaced on his feet, like he’d pulled them on just for this and couldn’t wait to get out of them again. Luke really didn’t want to think about getting out of clothing right now.
He cleared his throat, brazenly looked Noah up and down to cover how it really made him feel, almost relieved when Noah started to blush and mumbled a quiet, “Shut up.”
“Paul Bunyan has nothing on you,” he said, watching the blush spread down Noah’s neck to his chest.
Noah didn’t even tell him to shut up this time. Just glared and ducked his head, grabbing his discarded shirt and whistling for Napoleon. The old dog got to his feet, having been sleeping on the woodpile. He ambled over to Luke, sniffing and tail wagging.
“Hey buddy,” Luke couldn’t stop his smile from softening, scratching behind Napoleon’s ears as they followed Noah to the house. Napoleon rumbled a happy greeting back, leaning into Luke’s leg as they moved.
Noah had regained some of his dignity by that point, waving Luke into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
“Sure,” Luke said softly, walking a slow circle around the room. It was only his second time inside the house, first time in the kitchen. He stopped at the big chalkboard that took up most of one of the walls. Noah was apparently using it as his memo pad, writing down deadlines and important dates on random spots, tacking up photos in the empty spaces.
He stopped at one particular picture. It was the older lady from the drugstore. She was leaning over her counter, smiling down at a little kid, handing over a lollipop. Neither she nor the child knew they were getting their picture taken. It was beautifully shot, perfectly framed. Warm and sweet. “You should give her a copy of this,” he commented without thinking.
“Huh?” Noah lifted his head from where it had been ducked into the fridge. “Who what?”
“The woman in this. You should give her a copy, I bet she’d love it.” Luke turned, accepting a glass of water from Noah. Noah had yet to offer or even mention alcohol of any kind, and Luke had to wonder about that. Had Faith told him...?
“I don’t know, it’d be weird,” Noah shrugged, using his flannel shirt to mop sweat off his face. “Hey, lady-I-don’t-know. Here’s a creepy photo I creepily took when you weren’t looking and then developed creepily without you knowing and hung up in my kitchen because I’m creepy.”
Luke eyed him skeptically. “It’s only creepy because you used the word ‘creepy.’ It’s a beautiful photograph, Noah. And if she’s anything like you made her look, she’d probably love it.”
“Like I made her look?” Noah was just confused now.
Luke gently grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to the picture. “Sweet. Motherly. Warm. I get that just from looking at it.”
Noah shook his head. “Portraits aren’t really my thing.”
“This isn’t a portrait,” he insisted. “It’s a moment. Moments aren’t your thing?”
“I don’t know,” Noah answered honestly. “I don’t think you or your sister realize it- I’m making this stuff up as I go along most of the time.”
“You need to give yourself more credit,” Luke said quietly, looking at the photograph and not Noah. When he did, Noah was composed, no sign of having reacted to that. Instead he smiled, shrugged a little, and moved over to the sink to fill Napoleon’s water dish. Luke followed him. “Do you think you’ll ever want... more than this?”
“What do you mean?” Noah kept his concentration on the sink, probably on purpose.
Luke shrugged the shoulder closer to Noah. “What do you want to be doing ten years from now? Still be here? New York? Back to Rome again?” He was only half-teasing.
Noah smiled quietly. “I don’t know. I’d- I like it here. I have a good thing here. A better thing than I’ve had... ever, maybe. My life right now is maybe the best it’s ever been.” He glanced at Luke, so quickly maybe they both imagined it, maybe they didn’t.
He blushed a little anyway. Because Noah had glanced at him. “But you might want more,” he guessed, trying to sound gentle.
He was surprised when Noah nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Everyone always wants more, don’t they? I’d love to have the opportunity to travel for this. Explore more of Europe, or some deserted island somewhere that no one’s ever been to. I’d like to... I don’t know, take pictures no one else ever has before.” He set the water dish down on a towel near the door, and Napoleon immediately dove for it. “What about you?”
Luke couldn’t help it; he ducked his head, mirroring Noah’s own bashful expression. “I know I want to do more than I am. Anything more.”
Noah frowned, more curious than anything else. “Why?”
Luke leaned back against the sink next to him, their shoulders just brushing. “My whole life, I’ve been stuck in places. In small towns or in people’s expectations or in my own bad choices. I want- I want something to break free of... of everything. I love writing. I still do, after years of classes and then writing obituaries for barely any money. I love it. I want, at some point, for it to be my life. It’s all I want. I don’t need anything else, you know?”
He turned to Noah as he said that last bit, but instead of Noah looking at him, nodding in understanding, Noah was right there. There was less of a second of hesitation, so quick that Luke maybe wondered if it was just an inhale, just getting ready, and so quick that before he realized it, Noah’s lips was on his.
It was gentle, almost like testing the waters, like maybe testing Luke’s reaction. So of course Luke didn’t react- he couldn’t. In the few weeks he’d known Noah (really known him), he wouldn’t picture Noah as a ‘making the first move’ kind of guy. But he was, and the kiss was over so fast. Noah pulled away, his eyes going hooded and carefully apologetic. Oh hell no.
Luke reached out, brought Noah’s face back to his. He kissed him this time, a little less quick. He drew it out, still gentle, but trying to show... something. Luke wasn’t even sure himself (of anything), but Noah’s lips were warm, soft, and they fit to his.
He felt Noah’s hands come up to his face, framing it just so. His hands were suddenly perfect, Luke realized. The size, the feel- Luke had never cared about a guy’s hands before, not like this. And no one had ever touched him like this before, like he was...
His knees shook. He wasn’t- okay, no one took care of Luke. Guys didn’t, anyway. He was his own person, he didn’t give himself over like that. Except for now, because all he did was lock his knees, open his mouth wider, hold on tighter. His hands slid down to Noah’s waist; he’d almost forgotten the skin there was bare. And muscled. And slick with sweat, which meant Luke’s hands slipped across his sides a little, which was definitely not a bad thing.
He pulled, pressing them closer. Noah let a soft sound escape, a moan or a sigh or both, Luke wasn’t sure. But it made his legs shake again, and the shudder he couldn’t stop just pushed them that much closer together. He could feel the heat of Noah’s bare chest through his suddenly frustratingly-thin (yet not thin enough) shirt.
Later, the next day sometime, Luke would look back at this and question the ethics of it. He wasn’t supposed to get involved with a story like this. But it was like there were two Lukes now. One was working on this story, was the Luke he’d always been.
But this Luke, right now, was new. He was the one who had started opening up in their silly phone conversations. He was just a person, all he was was what Noah knew about him. He was a writer and a brother, he liked Paris, he liked root beer floats, and he really liked the guy currently shoving a tongue down his throat.
He liked being this Luke.
Later he’d decide he was two Lukes, and it was okay to be both. He could have his story and have this guy, because he could be either Luke when he needed to be. And right now, he wanted to be this one.
Noah finally eased back, keeping their foreheads (and chests and hips) pressed together while he got his breath back under control. “Um...”
Luke laughed. “Um? You can’t kiss me like that and just say um,” he scolded, still holding on, his thumbs unconsciously drawing little circles into Noah’s waist.
One side of Noah’s mouth quirked upwards. “Maybe you fried my brain.”
“Well,” he leaned up a little, brushed a kiss across Noah’s jaw, “good for me.”
Noah’s laugh vibrated between their chests. “You’re a little insufferable, you know that?”
“Of course I am,” he murmured between more soft, sweet kisses. “Proud of it.”
Noah moved one hand under Luke’s chin, stopping his exploration of the long lines of Noah’s neck. He tilted Luke’s head up and then just... looked. He looked at Luke, studied his face, eyes bright and roaming everywhere. Luke couldn’t help but keep still. He wasn’t sure what Noah was looking at (or looking for), but this Luke really hoped he’d find it.
Noah smiled again, kept his hand under Luke’s chin and kissed him. Gently, like that first time. Luke wondered if every time after this would feel like the first time.
He leaned up again and, just kind of going on instinct, kissed the tip of Noah’s nose, grinning at his flushed face. And then he blushed himself when Noah’s arms moved down to wrap around his hips, holding him lose, tucking his face into Luke’s neck a little. Like all of a sudden this was catching up with him, all of a sudden it was real.
Maybe Noah and this Luke actually felt the same way about each other. And maybe whatever the other Luke had to deal with, he’d deal with tomorrow.
***
“I feel like we’ve pretty much covered everything at this point,” Charlene commented idly as they sat down together. “What else is there for you to know?” She seemed to be in a good mood today, almost happy (well, happy for her), and it made Luke hesitate.
“Actually,” he pulled a folder out of his bag and set it on the table between them. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.” He was other Luke now, and other Luke had wrestled with this decision for a few days. But ultimately, he had decided this would be good for the story. He needed the commentary, he needed the reaction. That new version of him wasn’t so sure about this.
“What’s that?” she looked down at the folder, but didn’t touch it. Waited, somehow knowing to prepare herself.
“I found your son,” he said as confidently and straightforwardly as he could. “Noah.”
She sat back as though the folder was a rattlesnake about to strike. “Excuse me?”
“Noah Mayer,” Luke hoped he didn’t sound too gentle or too patronizing or too anything. Just honest. “Age twenty-seven. He’s a photographer. About an hour from here.”
Charlene was so still and so quiet. “Luke Snyder,” she said, eyes firmly looking away from the folder and away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Nothing, yet,” he pulled the folder back closer to him. “I’m just letting you know. I found him.”
“And what does he think about your little interview project?” her voice was tightly wound and barely controlled.
“He doesn’t know,” Luke answered. “He doesn’t know me.” Half true. “He’s not a part of this.” Very true.
“He doesn’t... know about me?” she asked carefully.
He shook his head. “No. I just wanted you to know he’s real, Charlene.” It was the first time he’d called her by her first name. “He exists. He exists like an hour from here.”
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked again.
“Like it or not, you have to admit- he’s a part of your story. And yeah, sure, how much of a part is up to you. But you can’t brush away this vague, abstract idea of a son anymore. He’s real and he’s really yours,” Luke held himself back from pleading, but he... he wanted this. “If you ever want to meet him-”
“No,” she cut in sharply. Then, quieter, “No. I don’t. I don’t think I can.” He felt like sighing, almost did, when finally she looked up at him, cautious. “He’s a photographer?”
“Owns his own studio.” And he had to add, “He’s really good.”
“Does he...” she stopped, that piercing look back. “You’ve talked to him.”
“No,” he said immediately, not ready for that. “I’ve been to his town, yeah. I’ve researched. Asked around. He has no idea about you and me. But he could if you want to.”
“I don’t,” Charlene said immediately, insistent this time. “Look, kid, I appreciate what you’re trying to- well, no, I don’t appreciate it. But I understand what you’re trying to do.” A deep breath, “But you have to stop. It’s not your job to interfere with this.” She pointed at the folder but wouldn’t reach for it. “This is my life. And his life. They’re separate. And I don’t want to meet him, he doesn’t want to meet me, and you can’t change that.”
He couldn’t accept that. He knew Noah, and he knew she would change her mind if she just met him, just once. “Will you at least consider it?”
“You think I haven’t considered it in the last twenty-five years?” she snapped. “I’ve considered and weighed the options and listed the pros and cons. I’m not really his mother. I’m just some woman he’s never known. He’s not really my son. My son was three. This- he’s... he’s just a person now. And so am I.” She shook her head, defiant and determined. “It’s better this way.”
It wasn’t, but there wasn’t much he could say (not yet, at least). But he didn’t move the folder. He kept it in front of him, flipped through it once more, shut it. He was taking a chance, he knew that, but dangling the carrot usually worked.
“Did he seem... okay?” she ventured.
He hesitated before nodding. “He lives alone. Well, with a dog. But it looks like he keeps to himself. Runs a studio on his property, went to college at Columbia.” Her eyebrows raised, so he continued, “He’s gay-” and dating someone, but no way in hell was he saying that. “He... I think that’s part of what set your ex-husband off the deep end. I couldn’t find much, but I don’t think his coming out went particularly well.”
‘Couldn’t find much’ was actually true, because it was still something Noah didn’t talk to him about. And Faith knew something, Luke was sure she did, but she wasn’t telling either. It made Luke even more determined to find out. But for now, right now, he leveled another look at Charlene. Noah’s mother. “But from what I can gather, he’s a good guy. The kind of person a mo-”
“Don’t call me his mother, Luke. We’ve been over this,” she shook her head.
“You are, though,” he argued. Maybe he kept his voice down, but he made sure he was still obstinate. “This is him, Charlene.” He pushed the folder closer to her once again. “He’s real.”
She wouldn’t touch it. “Not to me.”
***
“When’s the McMillan project deadline?” Faith called across the room.
“Um,” Noah was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, cleaning one of his cameras. “October 3rd, I think.” Napoleon was stretched across the actual couch, snoring loud enough for both of them to hear.
She frowned, adding it to the schedule on the computer. “You do realize you’re double-booked two weeks after that, right? That gallery in Chicago, and the historical society thing here?”
“I like being busy,” he reminded her for the third time that day.
“Oh yeah, is that why you’ve been going out with Luke like every other night?” she grinned to herself, watching for his reaction in the computer screen’s reflection.
She could see the blush. “None of your business,” he mumbled, focused on his camera lens.
“Hey, I think I’ve been very good about all of this,” she said. “I haven’t once asked you what your intentions towards my brother are, so-”
“I think you lost that right when you set us up in the first place,” Noah argued without any bite.
And she wasn’t a bit sorry. “So what are you doing tonight, then? My brother?”
He opened and shut his mouth a few times, caught. “I could fire you, you know.”
She spun around in her chair, finally facing him. “Yeah, but then you’d have to start all over again with the computer. Do you really want to risk that?”
He tilted his head to the side, considering, then gave a long-suffering sigh. “No, I guess not.”
“You better get used to that sigh if you’re going to be dating Luke,” she said, grinning.
“I didn’t have this sigh before I dated Luke,” he fired back. (He was smiling too.)
She would’ve said more, she would’ve teased him more definitely, but the chime of her cell phone interrupted the inquisition. (The back of her brain wondered how he’d hold up against a full-on Snyder Inquisition. The rest of her brain had to remind her that he’d probably never meet the Snyders, because this was all for a story. Why had she set them up again? Because they both look happy. God, she was an idiot.)
She checked her phone instead. You haven’t called in a few days. Check in please? Love you. From her mother. Of course. Was she going to have to ‘check in’ until she was fifty?
Noah caught her unconscious eye roll. “Luke?” he guessed.
She shook her head. “Mom,” she tucked the phone back in her pocket. “She expects me to still be at her beck and call, on her schedule, like I was when I was twelve. And then she lectures me about growing up, but I can’t do both if she keeps-” she cuts herself off. “Sorry.”
Noah frowned, confused. “For what?”
She fidgeted. Stupid mouth. Stupid brain letting stupid mouth talk. “Ranting about my mom when you...” she stopped again, gesturing awkwardly at nothing.
Noah looked about as uncomfortable as she felt, but he still smiled. Tried, at least. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to censor anything just because,” he kinda laughed. “I told you I lost my parents- it’s true, I guess. But they didn’t die. They’re both alive, as far as I know. But...” he stopped, looked away for a second.
Faith held perfectly still. She was almost terrified. Suddenly, she felt way too ill-equipped to handle this, all of this. She wasn’t cut out to be a journalist. Not like Luke. She cared way too much right now. She could hurt him. Faith didn’t want to; she didn’t want to do this. For the fifty-billionth time, she wished she really was just Faith Snyder, Noah’s assistant. Not a... spy. A liar. She wished she was still young enough to only have her mom’s craziness to worry about.
Noah was completely unaware of all this, her internal war. “My mother left me when I was three. My dad left me when I was eighteen.” He shrugged, as though that was the whole story. Even if she didn’t secretly know there was more, she’d know there was now. His face...
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She wished she could tell him how much.
He shrugged again. “My father’s in prison now. My mother is... she’s out there, somewhere, I guess. She never, um, she’s never sought me out.” He paused when Napoleon got up off the couch and plopped down in his lap instead. Like he knew. Noah ran his hand along the dog’s back, half-smiling. “I’m probably supposed to say, you know, you should appreciate what you have, at least your mom cares, whatever.”
It hurt to smile, but she did. “But?”
“But,” he echoed. “I have no ground to stand on, experience-wise. Just remember she’s your mom, you can’t ever change that. She can’t either.” One more shrug. “Doesn’t sound like she wants to.”
Faith bit her lip. “Yeah,” was all she could say. “Would you... did you ever try to find your mom?”
He shook his head, looking down at Napoleon, smiling when the dog whined and butted him in the chest. “After... after everything? No, I don’t think it’d be healthy for me, to borrow a shrink-phrase.” He tried to make that sound like a joke, but it so painfully wasn’t. “There are things I’ve accepted, and things I can’t. She doesn’t want me, that’s fine. Having a stranger be my- my mother? Not for me.” He sounded actually okay with that. Knowing him, he probably was.
Faith still wanted to cry. She liked Noah. She knew Luke did too. She shouldn’t be here. “Um,” she cleared her throat. “I’ve got to get going. Your schedule’s all set up for the next three months, if you want to look it over.” She gathered her things, unable to look him in the eye.
“Okay,” he sounded so steady. “Sorry to kill the mood,” he offered. And that was nice of him. He was nice. She hated it. That. Him. Herself. Luke and Emily. Charlene.
“No, I swear, it’s okay.” She smiled as he stood up, shaking off Napoleon, and joined her at the door. Then, impulsively, she threw her arms around him. “See you tomorrow,” she mumbled into his shoulder.
His arms came around her after a startled hesitation. “Okay,” he said, patting her on the back. When she pulled away, he studied her face, concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” she smiled when Napoleon joined them, nudging them both so he could stand between their legs. “Just... just stuff with my mom, and, you know...” she trailed off. She didn’t even know, how could he?
But he nodded, smiled again. “Okay. Good job today. Sorry it was all computer stuff, tomorrow we’ll do something more fun.”
“Okay.” She wanted to hug him again, but instead turned and headed for Hunter’s old car. For the first time in years maybe, she really just wanted her mom to be there and make everything okay.
***
“Hm,” Luke sipped his drink as he thought about it. “Girl? Becca Ford, fifth grade. But I guess that doesn’t count. Guy- he was from the news station I interned at the summer after high school graduation. Roth. I was seventeen.” He leaned back against the tree they were sitting under, nudged Noah’s knee with his own. “Your turn. First kiss.”
“Gabe Johansson. Seventeen, during finals week, senior year of high school,” Noah nodded to himself, letting his shoulder rest more against Luke’s. The remains of their dinner was spread out on the blanket in front of them. A picnic. Luke would’ve shaken his head at how cheesy it was... but it wasn’t cheesy. Not like this, for some reason. “Last kiss?” Noah suggested.
“You,” Luke duh’ed, leaning over to prove it, quick and sweet against his lips.
Noah smirked a little, rolling his eyes. “Before me,” he clarified.
Luke stilled, looking down at his hands. How honest did he want to be here? “A guy named Justin. I don’t think we ever learned last names. Didn’t need to.” He let that explain things, and Noah just gave a little nod, understanding. “Last relationship was four years ago. Boyfriend from home, before I moved to Chicago.”
“What happened?” Noah asked softly, his weight against Luke’s side warm and comforting, not oppressive.
“He died,” Luke couldn’t figure out how else to say it. “Car accident. We’d had a huge fight. On our way to breaking up, it was going to happen, we could both feel it. He wanted to get out of that town. And I was... stubborn.”
Noah brushed a kiss across his forehead. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said gently.
Luke smiled a little, leaned more into him. They were propping each other up, more than the tree was. “I didn’t want to change anything. I was scared. I couldn’t leave town, but I couldn’t leave him. So we both just got more and more miserable. Couldn’t admit it was time to move on.”
“Then he died?”
Luke nodded. “I told him I wished I’d never met him, that he was ruining my life, forcing me to be his trophy boyfriend, but he couldn’t do anything for me. He called me a spoiled child, said I was playing make-believe, that he was my only chance at settling down or whatever. I told him to go to hell. He got into his car, drove away.” He bit his lip, squeezing Noah’s hand when it slipped into his. “Next time I saw him was to identify his body in the morgue.”
Noah studied him, but without the intensity that would make Luke feel suffocated. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Is that why you moved to Chicago?”
“Yeah. People started treat me like, I don’t know, either a victim or a... a leper. I hated that people were expecting me to have a breakdown. My family, mostly. And everyone elsetreated me like I was a curse. So one morning I packed my stuff and drove to Chicago without telling anyone. Started over. I haven’t been ‘me’ since then.” He squeezed Noah’s hand again. Until now.
Noah smiled like he knew- maybe he did?- and kissed his forehead again. Luke had to smile into it. He’d never felt this okay, this settled, after talking (or thinking) about Reid. “You okay?” Noah asked, like he needed the confirmation.
“Yeah,” Luke breathed out, directing the smile at Noah. He leaned his head down on Noah’s shoulder, nestling in. “Let me guess, you’ve got a traumatic story for your last relationship too?”
Noah huffed a short laugh, confirming it. “Ain’t we a pair?” he murmured, his cheek resting in Luke’s hair.
Luke pulled Noah’s hand more into his lap, traced his fingers playfully. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he repeated Noah’s words from earlier.
Noah laughed a little again. “That wouldn’t be fair, would it?” He was silent for a minute, then started talking again. “Gabe was my first and last relationship. It lasted seven weeks before my dad found out about us.”
“Uh-oh?” Luke guessed, hoping he sounded as gentle as Noah had with him.
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “He didn’t react well.”
“How bad?” he asked, scared of the answer.
“He gave me a concussion and broke my collarbone,” Noah said it so matter-of-factly, but also carefully- like he was worried about Luke’s reaction.
Luke closed his eyes, took a slow breath in and out. “And then?”
“He disappeared, evaded police and all that. By the time I was released from the hospital, he got arrested for almost killing some woman in Chicago.” Some woman being Charlene, Luke realized. “I didn’t handle it well. I, uh, got addicted to the painkillers I was on. Spent the first year and a half of college screwing everything up.”
He brought Noah’s hand up to his mouth, kissed it softly. “Then things changed?”
“Yeah,” he said, almost grateful he didn’t have to go into details. “Got into counseling and rehab and all of it. School was all I had, and they threatened to kick me out. So I had to.”
“I’m glad you did.” Luke thought of Faith, of his own drinking problem, his mother...how bad so many things could have gone. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
He could feel Noah’s small smile. “Napoleon was my therapy dog.”
“Really?” Luke looked up at him, surprised.
Noah nodded. “He was supposed to be a police dog, but some defect- he didn’t have the sense of smell bloodhounds usually do. They donated him to the therapy program instead. And we found each other.”
Luke smiled,thinking of the pair of them. “They let you keep him?”
“About a year after I graduated college, my old therapist contacted me to say they were retiring him. I adopted him the next day.” He could feel Noah’s smile, peaceful, satisfied, like he was glad he’d done something right.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, half without meaning to, definitely hoping Noah didn’t hear him.
He did, of course, but he just shrugged. “Not really.” He leaned in, so close. “But- but I like that you think so.”
Luke closed the distance between them. They kissed slowly, but deeper and deeper, grasping tight. He tasted sweet, the strawberries they’d eaten with dinner. He pushed as Noah pulled, and suddenly there he was straddling Noah’s lap against that tree. Everything intensified, everything heavy and rushed and just necessary. For both of them.
They hadn’t had this, something real, someone kissing Luke for Luke and Noah for Noah in... maybe ever. Luke couldn’t be sure anymore. He’d never had what his parents have, what Casey and Maddie have. Was this it? This Luke was starting to think it maybe was.
So what the hell was he supposed to do with that other Luke?
***
He bit his lip, shifting left and right, as Casey’s eyes scanned the pages, one line after the other. Slowly. Very slowly. “Well?”
“Hang on,” Casey held up a middle finger, still reading.
Luke shifted around some more. Casey was still scanning. “What grade reading level did you test at?” he snapped.
“Grade Fuck Off,” Casey fired back absentmindedly. “I’m in the legal business, Snyder. We read everything with a fine-toothed comb.”
“Comb faster,” he whined.
Casey kept his middle finger up until he finished. “Okay,” he set the papers down between them. “Done.”
That was all he said. Luke stared. “Well?” he practically growled.
Casey drew it out as long as he could before grinning widely. “It’s really good, Luke. Really good. You could submit it as is, and it’d be a hit.”
He stopped fidgeting, almost surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah, man. It leaves me really wanting you to bring these two together, just to see what would happen, you know? I, wow, I kinda want them to have a happy ending. Even the psycho loner.”
“He’s not a psycho,” Luke said immediately, insisting.
Too insistent. Casey raised his eyebrows. “You and Faith are getting kinda attached to this guy,” he commented, a little too casually.
And yet, Luke still couldn’t help but rise to the bait. “Noah’s been through a lot. And he’s a great guy. You don’t know him, how he treats Faith and me, and-” he stopped at the new look on Casey’s face. “What?”
“Oh my God, Luke, are you in love with this guy?”
“I...” he meant to deny it right away, of course he wasn’t, but his brain stalled.
Which was why he also couldn’t figure out why Casey was smiling. “Luke,” he said kindly. “You really like him. It’s okay, you know.”
“He’s my story,” he countered, surprised at how weak his argument ended up sounding.
“Really?” Casey shook his head indulgently. “Luke buddy, it’s okay to care about somebody again. It’s been years since-”
“I’m not in love with him,” Luke tried to sound more confident this time, but it came off sounding more panicked than anything else.
“Then how come you haven’t turned this story in to Emily yet?”
He opened his mouth to explain, but his brain stalled again. Because...? “I only uploaded a first draft.” Casey’s expression told him that wasn’t good enough, so he tried again. “It’s not done yet.”
“You’re not done yet,” Casey corrected. “With Noah. You and Faith, you’re making him a part of your lives.” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing now. “You’re staying in this story too long, man. All three of you are going to get hurt, you know this.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do, Case?” he burst out. “Because you’re right. I- I’ve never felt this way about a guy before. He treats me like I’m... and Faith, he’s so good with her. What am I supposed to do?” He was begging now. “Tell me.”
“Luke,” Casey tried.
But he was on a roll now. “Yeah. As soon as he finds out the truth, Faith and I will have to leave him. He’ll hate me, maybe both of us. So yeah, I’m prolonging this. Because I’m not ready to let him go. I’m not ready to go back to the nothing bullshit that I was. He doesn’t treat me like I’m nothing,” he stopped, out of breath. They were both quiet for a long time.
“I don’t know,” Casey finally said, actually sounding sorry. “I really don’t know, Luke.”
Luke stared at his papers, his wonderful, horrible story. “Me either.”
***
Faith capped and uncapped the lens of her camera, staring at nothing. Noah had been in such a good mood today, and she had to think it had something to do with his date with Luke the night before. She should be happy for him, for both of them. She should be proud that she had started it. She just felt uneasy, sick to her stomach.
Why did you leave your first job?
Oh, well, I’d been posing as an assistant in order to get my brother a news story, and I set my boss and brother up, and they got along great, but then we had to tell the truth and now we’re all miserable.
She couldn’t exactly put that on her resumé. A hand touched her shoulder out of nowhere. She jumped, nearly dropping her camera. “Jesus, Hunter! We talked about this.”
“Pepper spray. Right. Sorry,” he sat down out of hitting distance. “I said your name like four times. You didn’t answer.”
“Oh. Sorry,” she said, maybe a little sheepish.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at her way too earnestly.
She hesitated, shrugged a shoulder, frowned. “I don’t know. No.” She put her camera away carefully. “I think doing this was a big mistake.”
“The pretending?” he guessed.
“Yeah. I think I hate it more and more each day. Because,” she lowered her voice. “I like this job. And I like Noah, and I like him and Luke together, they’re so good for each other it’s almost stupidly perfect, you know?”
“Um, kinda? I guess?” Hunter was trying to keep up with her, she had to give him that.
“If it was just that, there’d be nothing to worry about. Things would be... perfect. But the lying to Noah, and how much it’s gonna hurt them to be apart, I just... Luke hasn’t gone out and picked up random guys since he started dating Noah.”
“Oh.” Hunter could not look more confused now.
“And that’s a good thing,” she explained. “He’s been empty since Reid died, since before Reid died. This is the first time I’ve seen him excited about something besides work in years.” She felt like shoving the camera away, breaking it. “And Noah seems like he’s been the same way. And if we leave him, what’s he going to do? And, God, Napoleon isn’t a young dog. When he loses him too, what’s he going to have?”
“S-so, what do we do?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. I hate it. I mean, when all this is over- is Noah going to better or worse off for having met us? I don’t know. I don’t know.” She wanted to glare at him, but couldn’t work up the energy to open her eyes. “Why did Emily make us do this?”
Hunter didn’t answer at first, and it was enough to get her to open her eyes. His own eyes were downcast, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt sleeve. “I, um, think she has a soft spot for reuniting mothers and long lost sons,” he said quietly.
“Oh.” Faith sagged back in her seat. “Damn it.” And didn’t that complicate things even more. “What do you think we should do?”
Hunter’s head whipped up, startled. “What do I think?”
“From the long lost son perspective. Are we doing the right thing? Should we tell Noah? Should we just worry about the story? What?” she was desperate, she didn’t care how she sounded. “This whole thing is going to suck no matter what.”
“Emily and I had a, you know, kind of different reunion than Noah and his mother would have. I can’t really speak for them,” he hedged an answer. “But, as- as someone who’s left in the dark a lot? You should tell him the truth. If you look at this like a science experiment, what are the possible outcomes?”
“God, I don’t know, Bill Nye. Tell me,” she huffed, crossing her arms.
He ignored the attitude. “Either you never tell him, Luke stays with him, and the lie is always hanging between them. Not good. You tell him, he’s mad at you. You don’t tell him, the article comes out, he finds out what we’re doing, he’s really mad at you.”
Her eyes were a little too wide-eyed to be glaring. “None of those are good outcomes, Hunter!”
“No, yeah, I know, but...” Hunter scooted closer to her. “Think about the outcomes. You tell him now, logically, that’s the best chance for him to forgive you and Luke. Us.”
“Not a guarantee,” she said, pouting.
“No,” he admitted. “But best likelihood. I think it’s too late for a guarantee.”
Faith was quiet for a minute, maybe two. “This completely sucks, but, well, thanks for trying Hunter.” He blushed and nearly ripped his sleeve pulling on the thread. “But,” she groaned, not done, and ran a hand through her hair. “One final problem with no solution- it’s not up to me to tell Noah anything.”
Hunter considered it for a moment. “Luke?”
“Luke,” she sighed. “Luke has to be the one to tell him.”
***
Luke was, not a shock, used to waking up in unfamiliar places. That seemed to surprise people, considering he didn’t drink, but hey- there are always other ways of losing yourself. He was practically an expert. So, waking up now to an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar room, he wasn’t too concerned.
He blinked at the ceiling a few times, mentally running through his checklist. In a bed? Yes. Clothed? No. Sore? Yes. In a good way. He stretched slowly, fingers to toes, and the movement caused an arm he didn’t even realize was draped around him to tighten across him a little.
And then Luke remembered the night before.
Noah.
They managed to burst through the door to the bedroom and shed their clothing without losing contact, which was important. It was vital. Luke had to touch Noah, and it seemed pretty obvious that Noah had to touch him too. It was more than want.
Noah was breathless, giddy, open in a way Luke wasn’t sure he could’ve ever pictured Noah being, the wide grin on his face not tempered with wariness or that ‘soldiering on’ thing he got so often. He freed his arms of that last pesky sleeve and grabbed for Luke’s face again, pulling it back to his.
Luke let himself be pulled, laughing into Noah’s kiss, kicking away his shoes. His own fingers were hooked and tangled in the belt loops of Noah’s jeans, and he actually had to concentrate for a moment to free them, yank at the buckle there instead.
He had about a second to celebrate his success there before he was falling back, happily, pulling Noah with him, and they landed together in a pile of limbs and hands and less and less clothes.
Luke smiled, turned slowly onto his side into the warmth lying next to him. Noah was blinking fuzzily, facing him, that one arm still wrapped comfortably around Luke. (It really was comfortable. He didn’t even want to pretend otherwise.) “Hey,” he whispered, smiling a little, rubbing Noah’s arm.
Noah smiled back, all sleepy and happy. “Morning.” He did the opposite of stretching, curling in some more so his legs tangled with Luke’s, bringing them a little closer together. He bit his lip like he was trying to swallow back the smile and not seem to eager. “‘M glad you’re still here.”
His smile didn’t falter, but he felt a little... guilty, probably. Guilt was probably what this was. Maybe shame. It was like his reputation was still preceding him, and even Noah knew him as a ‘one night stand’ guy. He tried to make the smile wider. “Well-”
Noah was suddenly more awake. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I didn’t-” he stopped, started again, that bashful smile in place. “I meant, I don’t normally get, um, mornings after. As a, you know...” he stopped again, squeezing his eyes shut to hide. “Can we go back to sleep and start over?”
Shame long gone, he grinned easier, bringing his hand up to lay against the side of Noah’s face, rubbing his thumb in little strokes across his cheekbone to get him to open his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered again.
Noah smiled back. “Morning,” he said again too.
Luke leaned in, kissed him softly. “Breakfast?”
Noah studied him for a moment. “Are you requesting or offering?”
“Wow,” Luke sighed, “It’s like you don’t even know me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known.” He rolled onto his back with a groan. “What do you want me to make?”
He pretended to think about it. “Hmmmm,” he rolled with Noah, landing on top of him, folding his hands over Noah’s chest and resting his chin on them. “You.”
He felt Noah’s laugh as much as heard it. “That was not your best line, Snyder.” And yet, his arms came up and around, hands linking at the small of Luke’s back and holding on. “You might not deserve waffles.”
“Oh-my-god-waffles-yes-please,” he grinned, saying it all in one breath and one word. “You are the greatest man ever and I worship you.” Noah flinched. He obviously tried not to, he tried to hide it, but he flinched. He tried to shift a little, but Luke pressed down more of his weight, holding him there. “Noah?”
Noah let out another laugh, but it wasn’t as light as before. “It’s nothing.”
“Not nothing,” he argued, pressing down some more. “What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t really shrug with Luke holding down like that, but Luke could sense the movement anyway. “I never really... I never really thought this would happen to me.” One side of his mouth lifted up. “I’m not good at dealing with good things, Luke. And this- you and me- it’s a good thing.”
“I think it’s good too,” he murmured.
It made Noah smile a little more. One of his hands came up to Luke’s hair, playing with the strands. “When I was messed up and everything, I got used to being... to bad things happening. My dad hit me, my boyfriend left me instead of seeing if I was alive, my mother never even bothered with that, the only thing that didn’t seem like it was killing me was pills and- and more stuff like that. I couldn’t keep my head above water, you know? I did anything, took anything, to feel like I wasn’t...”
Luke tilted his head down, kissed the muscle and skin over Noah’s heart. “I know.” He did, in a way. He understood.
“I loved watching movies, it was like looking at a different world. Heroes win, happy endings, all that. And sometimes I could even believe... maybe that stuff happens in real life. Not to me, sure, but maybe someone somewhere actually got those things and was happy.” Noah did that not-shrug thing again. “I have always- always- been okay with not getting what I want.”
“Noah...” Okay, maybe that was something he didn’t relate to. But to hear it like this...
And then he smiled so sweetly. “I was okay with it, I mean it. It felt like I could handle anything that got thrown at me. I didn’t have to want happy endings. I didn’t need someone to- to say nice things to me. I didn’t need anyone for anything. I wasn’t happy, but I was fine.”
No you weren’t, he wanted to argue. But wisely, somehow, he kept his mouth shut, kissing him gently instead.
Noah carded his hand through Luke’s hair, really looking at him now. Still smiling. “And the reason I’m telling you all this is because since you- and your sister- showed up here? I’ve been, I don’t know, thinking about happy endings. Not in a movie way.”
Luke studied him for a minute, then reached back and pulled Noah’s hand away, bringing it forward in both his hands. “Baby, that’s a really roundabout way of saying you’re happy.”
He’d never called anyone ‘baby’ before, it just slipped out. For a second, just a second, he wanted to snatch is back. But then a second later, the blush and smile on Noah’s face made him reconsider. Maybe his instincts with Noah were okay, then. They kissed slowly, deeply, encompassing as much as they could. He pulled back to catch his breath. “Noah?”
“Yeah?” Noah squeezed his hand.
And it was then, right then, that Luke almost did it. Almost told Noah everything- Charlene, the story, Faith. He almost told Noah he was falling for him. (Wait, was falling? Had fallen. Hard.) He almost confessed everything. He wanted to, so badly. Needed to. So he leaned in close again, kissed Noah softly, and opened his mouth. “I’m happy too,” was all that came out.
Noah smiled wide at him, pulled him impossibly closer. That was the last talking either of them did for the rest of the morning.
***
“You’re practically skipping, dude. I don’t like it,” Casey grumbled.
Luke smirked, waving his coffee cup around. “You could have caffeine, you know. It might make you a little sunnier.”
Casey groaned. “Maddie and I have a deal. If she can’t drink alcohol or coffee, neither can I. Not until she has the baby.”
“So drink some at work, it’s not like she’ll know,” Luke said.
“No.” Casey looked at him, wide eyed. “She’ll know.” They got off the elevator and walked into the office. “Besides, it’s not Starbucks that’s making you this way. You got lucky this weekend, didn’t you?”
“Lucky being the operative word,” he mumbled. Casey, thankfully, let that one go.
“Hey Luke,” one of the bullpen voices called out. “Great job!”
“Thanks,” he replied, pretty much unconsciously.
“Great job on what?” Casey asked, following him to his office.
He shrugged. “No clue. But I’ll take it.” They waved at Georgie, who gave Luke a pointed look. Uh-oh. He slowed down by her desk. “What did I do?”
“Nothing yet,” she always sounded like she was half a minute away from a lecture. “A copy of the edition is on your desk, I’ve been fielding a few calls to your extension already this morning.”
“Edition?” he repeated, confused.
“Of the paper,” Georgie said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word.
Which it wasn’t. “What?”
“Luke!” someone else, Ryan maybe, walked past, clapped him on the shoulder. “Great article, man. I think it’s your best yet.”
Article?
Article.
He stared at Casey, wide eyed and starting to panic. Casey connected the dots a second after him, let out an “oh shit,” and dashed off to Luke’s office. Luke couldn’t follow. His feet were rooted to the floor by the reception desk. No. No, there’s no way. It couldn’t possibly be-
“Luke,” Casey was back in front of him, looking worried and sick. “Did you- that, that rough draft you showed me. Did you...?” He was holding the morning’s edition of the paper in his hand. Luke’s eyes were drawn to it. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tiny little square picture under the byline was definitely him.
The article was his article. About Charlene. About Noah. As if by magic, his cell phone started to ring. Without taking his eyes off of Casey and the paper, he pulled it out of his pocket, put it to his ear. “Hello?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Luke!” Faith sounded somewhere between worried and really worried. “Something’s going on. Something’s wrong. Have you heard from Noah this morning?”
“No,” he kept his answers short. Otherwise something in him would burst. The world would end. Something.
“The studio's locked,” she kept on, not realizing that the floor was slowly swallowing him up, a bit at a time. “It’s dark, I can’t get in. And the house is locked too, I can’t find him anywhere. But his truck his here. I don’t... something’s wrong, Luke. What’s going on?”
He was frozen. He was ‘this Luke’ and ‘that Luke’, and both were panicked. Neither knew what to do. “I-” his voice caught, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m on my way.”
Both Lukes were pretty sure it was already too late.
( Chapter 4)