Fic: The Interview (part 5c)
Title: The Interview (Part 5c)
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Noah/Luke
Rating: PG-13 (Language only)
Word Count: 1.7k
Summary: How dates go wrong.
Spoilers: This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.
Disclaimer: As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P&G and possibly others, but definitely not me. That is the real travesty of all of this.
Notes: This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Noah curls away, struggles to free himself from the arms around him. It doesn't matter how much he wants to stay. There is letting someone closer and then there is acknowledging weaknesses someone could use, exploit, abuse. "Let me go."
"I'm not holding you." Luke's voice is soft, patient.
"Your arm's around me. Other one is pushing at my back. I may not be used to attention like this but I'm not stupid." He tries to breathe, wishes he could remember the easy rhythm. The sound of his heart threatening to exit his body via his throat isn't helping.
"Easy, easy. In. One, two, three. Hold it. Out. One, two, three. Again. In. One, two, three."
Noah's voice hitches. Fresh tears burn behind his eyelids. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Hey, no. Hush. You were doing fine. You were. Keep breathing. Please." Luke's fingers continue their circles against Noah's skin.
"Gotta sit up. Need water, air." Noah's lungs hurt like he's been swallowing glass shards. The room spins over him. He shifts to stuff his head between his legs. "So, umm," he talks to his toes. "I know I'm not all up on how kids these days date, but I'm thinking that having a date with a hooker who flirts with your BFF barista, takes you back to his apartment and then has a panic attack isn't the normal way of doing things."
Luke kneels behind Noah, his legs around his waist, pets his hair, the nape of his neck. "If I wanted normal, I'd be dating my BFF barista. And, no, just no. He fumbles a rub to Noah's shoulders, adjusts to sit next to him, bumps their knees together. "Want me to get you some water? Maybe an aspirin or something?"
Noah nods, afraid to speak. His heart thumps stupidly in his chest. Luke doesn't want normal. He dares to let hope bloom, before squashing it just as quickly.
Luke slips off the bed, catches his pants and does them back up. "Water, I'm guessing, is in the kitchen. Where would meds be?"
"Bathroom. Behind the mirror. Bottled water in the fridge. Soda also, if you want some. Beer, maybe." Noah exhales, inhales, listens to the pad of Luke's footsteps in the small studio apartment. He contemplates his refrigerator, what secrets it can reveal to Luke's. Two glasses, two plates, two bowls, one mug. Bottled water, bread, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Multi-vitamins, maybe. That was it. How depressing.
Noah hears the refrigerator open on its sticky hinges, but not close. Then silence. "You really are emptying out, aren't you?"
"What?" Noah can't fully make sense of Luke's words.
"You just don't seem to have a lot here. Thought maybe you were using stuff up so it wasn't hard to pack?" He comes back with two pills, a bottle of water and a warm washcloth. "Here, take these. There you go. Your breathing's back to normal, even though you're still pale. Lay down, okay. Put this on your forehead and close your eyes."
Noah doesn't want that, doesn't want to be the asshole who managed to fuck up the only date he's had in over seven years. "Don't want to," he manages to admit. "I'm sorry I screwed up. Maybe I can make it up to you? I don't know how, but I will."
"Don't be dumb. You're sick. I can stay. You didn't mean to get sick? Didn't plan it deliberately?"
"I don't do shit like that." Noah bristles. He hasn't faked illness since he lived with the Colonel.
"Easy, easy. It was mostly rhetorical. Promise. Hey, you think maybe Roth poisoned you?"
Noah laughs. "He loves you. Could be trying to bump me off."
"Shut up." Luke tugs Noah closer to him, pets his stomach beneath his shirt. "Did I mention earlier, I like the eyeliner. I would have thought I wouldn't. Don't like to think of you painting yourself for me like you paint yourself for them." He places a delicate kiss on Noah's temple. "I was wrong. You look hot."
"I wanted to," Noah whispers. "I wanted you to know you were worth it. More than just an interview. Someone," he swallows. "Someone I once knew told me it brought out my eyes, said it made me beautiful." Noah blinks back the damp salt that trails down his cheeks.
"You are beautiful." Luke wipes his thumbs under Noah's eyes. "And your breathing seems to have evened out completely. You want to try sleeping for awhile?"
"I'd rather go back to making out." Noah cringes at the petulance in his voice.
"Me too," Luke confesses. "But I like you breathing. I don't really want you dead. Necrophilia has never been my thing, y'know."
"Yeah, that's a kink even I'm not willing to do." Noah wrinkles his nose. "Can we, I mean, if you don't mind, can we not talk about death?" He bites his lip, does not think of anyone else. "My mom died. Did you know that? I don't really know what happened, but she's dead. Has been for sometime. Only, I think the woman I thought was my mom maybe wasn't. And that someone else was." He shakes his head.
"You don't have to tell me. If you don't want to," Luke rushes to assure Noah.
"It's not like that. I just don't know how to explain it."
"Is that part of what you need at WOAK?"
Noah nods. "Yeah. I've got some notes, got a theory, but I'm not sure how much of it fits. Oakdale is a weird little place. Big city and small town all at the same time. Trying to slot stuff in isn't easy." His lungs don't hurt, and his head isn't spinning. His ear echoes with the sound of Luke's heartbeat. "Still, you got professors, doctors, nurses, alleys and coffee shop. That's pretty much all I need to know. A school big enough not to notice when a stranger slips into lectures, but too dumb to swipe IDs is my kind of school."
Luke's choked breath reverberates in Noah's ear. "That's why I saw you in that class and you never came back? You were sneaking into a class? Wait, I don't get it. You like school? Why don't you just go back and get some sort of degree?"
Noah lurches out Luke's arms, stumbles out of bed. "Why don't I just go back? Just go back? like it's that fucking easy. I haven't been in school in years, fucking years. Haven't been there since I split from the Colonel. And you think it's easy?" He flails his arms, forces a safe distance between their bodies. "You don't know. You've been dancing around me, watching me work for months now. But look at me. Luke, look at me. I'm a whore. A whore who hasn't been in a school since ninth fucking grade when I ran away before I could be beat one more time. Ran away before I had to hear what real men do, what real men are, why I'm never, ever going to be one." He collapses to the floor on shaky legs, wraps his arms around his exhausted body. "Oh shit. Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Luke," he blinks teardrops off his eyelashes, gazes up at the beautiful embodiment of innocence frozen on his bed. "You have to go. Please." He crawls to the side of his bed, keeps his distance, but snatches at Luke's hands. Noah kisses each of his fingers, sucks at the sweet white chocolate taste that lingers. His throat burns. Shame rises in his throat, leaves him helpless, ripped open and raw.
"Noah." That same benediction Luke offered before spills effortlessly from his angelic lips.
"Don't do this to me. Don't see me like this. Not now, not yet. I want to see you again, want to know you, but, not ... not like this." Noah bites at his lip. "I don't know what you want, what you need, but I." He swallows. "I need to do this even slower. I've never wanted to not fuck something up so bad in my life."
Luke's almost dimples ease the ache in Noah's heart. "I'm worried about you. I didn't mean to imply anything about school. I'm sorry. I'd still like to know you, know your life, if you'll let me."
"I don't know how." Noah closes his eyes, prays to the dark of his eyelids. "I don't know how to do this."
"Shh," Luke slips a hand from Noah's, pets his hair. "Shh. I know. I can help you through this. Get a nap now. Get sleep. And I'll be back later. I'll come find you. Give me a text once you're off work. We'll meet back up. Make plans for WOAK." He doesn't wait for a response, kisses Noah's forehead. "Into bed, okay. That's good." He tugs up the covers over Noah's clothed body. "And really do it. Don't undersell yourself or me. Text me before you come home. I can meet you here. Any time. I want to be here."
Noah nods. Blood suffuses his face and won't leave. "You really want me too?"
"I do. Sleep now. Promise me. Sleep." Luke stands by his head until Noah's eyes flutter and shut. "Take care of yourself."
The next part is here.
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Noah/Luke
Rating: PG-13 (Language only)
Word Count: 1.7k
Summary: How dates go wrong.
Spoilers: This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.
Disclaimer: As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P&G and possibly others, but definitely not me. That is the real travesty of all of this.
Notes: This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Noah curls away, struggles to free himself from the arms around him. It doesn't matter how much he wants to stay. There is letting someone closer and then there is acknowledging weaknesses someone could use, exploit, abuse. "Let me go."
"I'm not holding you." Luke's voice is soft, patient.
"Your arm's around me. Other one is pushing at my back. I may not be used to attention like this but I'm not stupid." He tries to breathe, wishes he could remember the easy rhythm. The sound of his heart threatening to exit his body via his throat isn't helping.
"Easy, easy. In. One, two, three. Hold it. Out. One, two, three. Again. In. One, two, three."
Noah's voice hitches. Fresh tears burn behind his eyelids. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Hey, no. Hush. You were doing fine. You were. Keep breathing. Please." Luke's fingers continue their circles against Noah's skin.
"Gotta sit up. Need water, air." Noah's lungs hurt like he's been swallowing glass shards. The room spins over him. He shifts to stuff his head between his legs. "So, umm," he talks to his toes. "I know I'm not all up on how kids these days date, but I'm thinking that having a date with a hooker who flirts with your BFF barista, takes you back to his apartment and then has a panic attack isn't the normal way of doing things."
Luke kneels behind Noah, his legs around his waist, pets his hair, the nape of his neck. "If I wanted normal, I'd be dating my BFF barista. And, no, just no. He fumbles a rub to Noah's shoulders, adjusts to sit next to him, bumps their knees together. "Want me to get you some water? Maybe an aspirin or something?"
Noah nods, afraid to speak. His heart thumps stupidly in his chest. Luke doesn't want normal. He dares to let hope bloom, before squashing it just as quickly.
Luke slips off the bed, catches his pants and does them back up. "Water, I'm guessing, is in the kitchen. Where would meds be?"
"Bathroom. Behind the mirror. Bottled water in the fridge. Soda also, if you want some. Beer, maybe." Noah exhales, inhales, listens to the pad of Luke's footsteps in the small studio apartment. He contemplates his refrigerator, what secrets it can reveal to Luke's. Two glasses, two plates, two bowls, one mug. Bottled water, bread, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Multi-vitamins, maybe. That was it. How depressing.
Noah hears the refrigerator open on its sticky hinges, but not close. Then silence. "You really are emptying out, aren't you?"
"What?" Noah can't fully make sense of Luke's words.
"You just don't seem to have a lot here. Thought maybe you were using stuff up so it wasn't hard to pack?" He comes back with two pills, a bottle of water and a warm washcloth. "Here, take these. There you go. Your breathing's back to normal, even though you're still pale. Lay down, okay. Put this on your forehead and close your eyes."
Noah doesn't want that, doesn't want to be the asshole who managed to fuck up the only date he's had in over seven years. "Don't want to," he manages to admit. "I'm sorry I screwed up. Maybe I can make it up to you? I don't know how, but I will."
"Don't be dumb. You're sick. I can stay. You didn't mean to get sick? Didn't plan it deliberately?"
"I don't do shit like that." Noah bristles. He hasn't faked illness since he lived with the Colonel.
"Easy, easy. It was mostly rhetorical. Promise. Hey, you think maybe Roth poisoned you?"
Noah laughs. "He loves you. Could be trying to bump me off."
"Shut up." Luke tugs Noah closer to him, pets his stomach beneath his shirt. "Did I mention earlier, I like the eyeliner. I would have thought I wouldn't. Don't like to think of you painting yourself for me like you paint yourself for them." He places a delicate kiss on Noah's temple. "I was wrong. You look hot."
"I wanted to," Noah whispers. "I wanted you to know you were worth it. More than just an interview. Someone," he swallows. "Someone I once knew told me it brought out my eyes, said it made me beautiful." Noah blinks back the damp salt that trails down his cheeks.
"You are beautiful." Luke wipes his thumbs under Noah's eyes. "And your breathing seems to have evened out completely. You want to try sleeping for awhile?"
"I'd rather go back to making out." Noah cringes at the petulance in his voice.
"Me too," Luke confesses. "But I like you breathing. I don't really want you dead. Necrophilia has never been my thing, y'know."
"Yeah, that's a kink even I'm not willing to do." Noah wrinkles his nose. "Can we, I mean, if you don't mind, can we not talk about death?" He bites his lip, does not think of anyone else. "My mom died. Did you know that? I don't really know what happened, but she's dead. Has been for sometime. Only, I think the woman I thought was my mom maybe wasn't. And that someone else was." He shakes his head.
"You don't have to tell me. If you don't want to," Luke rushes to assure Noah.
"It's not like that. I just don't know how to explain it."
"Is that part of what you need at WOAK?"
Noah nods. "Yeah. I've got some notes, got a theory, but I'm not sure how much of it fits. Oakdale is a weird little place. Big city and small town all at the same time. Trying to slot stuff in isn't easy." His lungs don't hurt, and his head isn't spinning. His ear echoes with the sound of Luke's heartbeat. "Still, you got professors, doctors, nurses, alleys and coffee shop. That's pretty much all I need to know. A school big enough not to notice when a stranger slips into lectures, but too dumb to swipe IDs is my kind of school."
Luke's choked breath reverberates in Noah's ear. "That's why I saw you in that class and you never came back? You were sneaking into a class? Wait, I don't get it. You like school? Why don't you just go back and get some sort of degree?"
Noah lurches out Luke's arms, stumbles out of bed. "Why don't I just go back? Just go back? like it's that fucking easy. I haven't been in school in years, fucking years. Haven't been there since I split from the Colonel. And you think it's easy?" He flails his arms, forces a safe distance between their bodies. "You don't know. You've been dancing around me, watching me work for months now. But look at me. Luke, look at me. I'm a whore. A whore who hasn't been in a school since ninth fucking grade when I ran away before I could be beat one more time. Ran away before I had to hear what real men do, what real men are, why I'm never, ever going to be one." He collapses to the floor on shaky legs, wraps his arms around his exhausted body. "Oh shit. Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Luke," he blinks teardrops off his eyelashes, gazes up at the beautiful embodiment of innocence frozen on his bed. "You have to go. Please." He crawls to the side of his bed, keeps his distance, but snatches at Luke's hands. Noah kisses each of his fingers, sucks at the sweet white chocolate taste that lingers. His throat burns. Shame rises in his throat, leaves him helpless, ripped open and raw.
"Noah." That same benediction Luke offered before spills effortlessly from his angelic lips.
"Don't do this to me. Don't see me like this. Not now, not yet. I want to see you again, want to know you, but, not ... not like this." Noah bites at his lip. "I don't know what you want, what you need, but I." He swallows. "I need to do this even slower. I've never wanted to not fuck something up so bad in my life."
Luke's almost dimples ease the ache in Noah's heart. "I'm worried about you. I didn't mean to imply anything about school. I'm sorry. I'd still like to know you, know your life, if you'll let me."
"I don't know how." Noah closes his eyes, prays to the dark of his eyelids. "I don't know how to do this."
"Shh," Luke slips a hand from Noah's, pets his hair. "Shh. I know. I can help you through this. Get a nap now. Get sleep. And I'll be back later. I'll come find you. Give me a text once you're off work. We'll meet back up. Make plans for WOAK." He doesn't wait for a response, kisses Noah's forehead. "Into bed, okay. That's good." He tugs up the covers over Noah's clothed body. "And really do it. Don't undersell yourself or me. Text me before you come home. I can meet you here. Any time. I want to be here."
Noah nods. Blood suffuses his face and won't leave. "You really want me too?"
"I do. Sleep now. Promise me. Sleep." Luke stands by his head until Noah's eyes flutter and shut. "Take care of yourself."
The next part is here.