Fic: Back To You
Title: Back To You
Author: sweetiejelly
Rating: (light?) R
Disclaimer: Characters/world not mine.
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Noah, Lucinda, Natalie, Casey, Alison
Word Count: 3037
Warnings: Crack-ish?
Summary: Surely ‘I want to be where he is’ doesn’t mean ‘I want to be him’?
Notes: Written for wishlist_fic 2013 for moongirl24's prompt: "This is the worst Christmas ever." Hope this is sort of what you're looking for, Lene, even if it's a bit more crack than fluff, though I'd like to think there's a bit of that here too, hee. ♥ AO3 link.
It isn’t actually supposed to come true is the thing. That wish he made last night in a haze. Perhaps he used the wrong preposition, because this isn’t exactly what he wished for either.
Surely ‘I want to be where he is’ doesn’t mean ‘I want to be him’?
But now Noah is here, in Oakdale, in Luke’s body, and Lucinda has been squinting at him for the past five minutes from across the breakfast table.
“What is it, darling? Nothing of interest on the internet today? Your phone’s uncharged? Lost?”
Noah gulps down the milk on his tongue, gulps down the crazy truth too. “Forgot my password,” he shrugs.
“All right, who are you and what have you done with my grandson?”
That surprises a choke out of him. If only he could tell her. He settles for one of Luke’s impish smiles instead.
“Zero six zero one,” she tells him after a sip of coffee.
June first. Noah’s birthday. “He - I told you?”
“You didn’t have to, darling. Really, are you sure you haven’t hit your head?”
Noah puts down the toast and licks his lips (Luke’s lips). He does it again and then blushes under Lucinda's gaze. “Maybe I’m still a little tired…” he trails off.
“Writing deep into the night will do that to you. How’s the book coming along?”
Noah startles. A book. Luke hasn’t mentioned a book. At least not online, not in any social capacity.
Not to him. An ache blooms in his chest. He had thought they were at least still good friends. They talk. Almost daily, in fact. Apparently about nothing of importance.
"Good," he lies. "Well, you know. Some days I love it. Some days I hate it." He still remembers way too much of everything Luke Snyder. Absentmindedly, he touches the back of his neck, of Luke's neck. It feels different from this angle, different under this hand.
"And what day is it today?"
"Christmas," he says before he even thinks about it.
Lucinda laughs. "Christmas indeed. Are you going to see that nice young man of yours?"
Noah freezes. What young man? What is this? Besides possibly the worst Christmas ever?
"I know you don't want me to push," Lucinda is saying. "Me and your parents and Faith and Natalie. But, Luke, darling, it is time. You know it is. It's past time."
Noah breathes through his disappointment. Everyone thought Luke should be moving on with his mystery man? "Time-time for… presents?" He tries to play it off. Luke would, wouldn't he, if he was resisting?
"Oh no," Lucinda holds up a hand. "No details. If you must, write about your presents in that book of yours. They do say to write what you know."
"Grandmother!" Noah couldn't fight the blush if he tried.
"I'm just saying." Lucinda gets up and brushes a hand through her hair. "You know where to find my jet."
"I need your jet?" Luke's guy isn't local?
"Honestly, Luke, what's gotten into you? You're going to - what? Walk to Los Angeles?"
Fuck. Luke's guy's in L.A.? Noah spares a heartbeat of hope that-that… but he can't.
"Here - if you can't persuade that stubborn boy to come back with you, give him this," Lucinda presses a wrapped rectangle into his hands. "Merry Christmas, Luke." She presses a kiss to his cheek.
Noah stares at the obviously-a-DVD, possibly-for-him gift, and rubs his thumbs repeatedly along the sharp corners. "Merry Christmas."
~~
When he finds Luke's phone upstairs, Noah punches in zero-six-zero-one, one slow digit at a time.
He half expects it to balk at him. Perhaps Lucinda doesn't know everything. Perhaps Luke changed the password. Perhaps -
But the lock screen fades away and Noah's heart beats like a thief in his chest. He's snooping. Or at least he's thinking about snooping. There are a few games on the phone and a few writing apps. A weather app. UsTube.
He clicks on the phone icon and registers how high up on the contact list his name is. He has always been there in the number three spot, right behind dad and mom and surprisingly before Lucinda and Emma, Faith and Natalie. He remembers teasing Luke about it. But it's another name that grabs his attention. It's simply labeled "booty call." And wow, okay. Is this the worst Christmas ever or the worst Christmas ever?
Noah gulps and presses down quickly to call himself.
The phone rings and rings and no one picks up. Right. Luke doesn't have his password. And Noah's place in L.A. could fit neatly inside the kitchen at the Snyder farm. He has no grandmother or even a roommate to speak of. Luke wouldn't be answering his phone today.
Noah flops down on the bed. On Luke's bed. On the bed where he woke this morning and had a spectacular freak out. Luke's probably having a similar one, with more cuss words.
Noah drums his fingertips over his chest, over Luke's worn striped t-shirt. He wonders how long he's going to be trapped in Luke's body and what kind of voodoo this is. If it's supposed to be a Christmas miracle, it's fallen way short.
Well, there is the fact that he actually possesses Luke's body. But that doesn't mean he can kiss him the way he wants to, cupping Luke's cheeks like he's about to take a drink. Or to hug him the way he wants to, sinking snug into their combined body heat.
He can take a shower though. That seems like the polite thing to do.
Noah takes the longest shower (by his standards, which by Luke's standards probably isn't long at all). But the mirror fogs up more than half way and he's too short to see beyond Luke's face studying him with sharp eyes. And he realizes how much of Luke's smart mouth he misses, how much of Luke's big, brave heart. This booty call asshole - well, if he's only getting Luke's body, then Noah isn't going to get jealous. He isn't.
Methodically, he pulls on layers of his favorite Luke clothes from the closet. Luke's a bit of a hoarder that way. "It's my favorite. Why would I throw it away?" was what Luke said once when Faith ribbed him about the worn thin sleeve of a shirt. Noah had fallen just that little bit more in love with him then.
Luke keeps his favorites around for as long as he can. Maybe Luke would keep him, too.
Luke kept his pictures around at least. Noah didn't notice it at first, but on the bedside table is one of Luke's favorites. In the shot, Noah has his arms around Luke, eyes closed in bliss. Even now, Noah could recall every line of Luke cuddled on his lap.
Noah smiled when he saw it, recalled that perfect afternoon. Cherish the good things in life - that's one lesson he's learning to learn.
Cherish, for example, the fact that Natalie's number is on Luke's phone.
"Should I go to L.A., Nat? Should I go see…" And Noah lets Luke's voice trail off. Natalie hasn't grown cynical and suspicious yet. And Noah has never loved her innocence as much as now.
"Yes! Oh my god, Luke. Go! Don't chicken out again. It's Christmas and you know we want you to be happy." She pauses, as if debating whether to continue that thought. Softer, almost somber, she says, "And Noah made you happy, Luke."
He's the L.A. guy! He's the L.A. guy! Noah could feel Luke's cheek pressing against the phone in his grin.
~~
Noah loves Lucinda's jet, always has. But the pilot in his uniform makes Noah stand consciously straighter and makes his hand itch to salute. He couldn't help the "yes sir" that slips out when the pilot asked if he was ready to go.
And he is ready. He's so ready to go home.
~~
Noah knocks on his own door and waits with hands in pockets. The flight was too long and then too short. He hasn't decided on what to say. He never knows quite what to say. Luke always had the words. Luke's the one writing a book and possibly hiding a lover and possibly still loves him nonetheless.
It's weird seeing his own face from Luke's perspective. The mirror mirrors and from here everything seems a bit shuffled - his eyebrow scar in particular seems to be in the wrong place, at the wrong angle.
"Okay, so I haven't died or hit my head. I just woke up and I didn't know where I was or even when I was or why I was naked." Luke gestures to himself, clothed now thankfully, and Noah ducks his head in a blush.
"Also, what did you do to my hair?" Luke reaches out and pets down a strand, curling his finger hard around it, almost yanking and ow.
"Washed it."
"Washed it," Luke repeats his response. And then they crack up over the absurdity of everything about this moment.
"Oh god, I'm losing my mind. I wanted so badly to see you and then I am you and somehow you're me." Luke's gesturing wildly between the two of them. "And then I'm jerking off and it feels different and yet so familiar and-"
"Who's 'booty call'?" Noah blurts because the image of Luke in his bed touching him is vivid and too much and Noah has to know.
"What?" Luke looks confused for a second and then his eyes pops wide and he seems to lift off the ground on a tiptoes. "Oh! Here - give me the phone."
Luke thumbs in his code and scrolls over to call the number. He holds the phone to Noah's ear and stares at him with a little smile.
"Luke, man, merry Christmas!" Casey's voice comes over warm and energetic as always. "Allie says hi."
"Casey!" Noah says a little confused. "Hi! Um, merry-merry Christmas."
Luke takes the phone from him. "Merry Christmas, Casey!"
"Noah!" Noah hears Casey's exclamation loud and clear. 'Prank' Luke mouths as Noah stares. "Uh-huh, uh-huh…" Luke has a whole long conversation of those with Casey and possibly Allie on the phone as Noah lets himself in the apartment and closes the door.
Noah's draping his coat over the back of the sofa when Luke ends the call. "So, is Casey the booty call? Or is it Allie?"
"Shut up." Luke grins but then gets serious. He licked his lips and played with his fingers. "Remember when Case and Allie had that huge fight earlier in the year? He got so drunk and crashed over at mine. I told him I was possibly the worst person he could have come to for advice or comfort. I told him I didn't even have a booty call. Well, next thing I know, I've got 'booty call' on my phone."
Noah snorts. "Sounds like drunk Casey."
"Hey, don't diss drunk Casey. Drunk Casey loves me."
"You are pretty lovable, I guess."
Luke looks at him and ducks his head a little. Noah thinks he may even be blushing. "Am I?"
"Luke." Noah doesn't know what to say. I love you sounds cheap, easy, as does every other thing he can think of to say. So he says none of them, just holds Luke to him. It feels weird having his head tucked under Luke's. It feels odd literally hugging himself. But Luke sighs a little and wraps his arms more securely around him and the weird fades a little.
"How long do you think we're going to be stuck like this?" Luke asks.
"I don't know."
"Do you think this is just a really, really lucid dream?"
"After I came out of the surgery… I dreamt I was shooting a scene outdoors, in the forest, and it was a really sunny day. The sun was in my eyes. And-and I couldn't see. But then you moved closer. I could see that it was you, and you were the best thing I'd ever seen. You were smiling and I just - I knew it was going to be okay."
"Noah." Luke pulls back to look at him.
"I-I know. That's not the same as this at all. But that was a lucid dream, I guess. I don't know what this is."
"Maybe Santa slipped us something."
"Doesn't Santa giveth and taketh away? Maybe it'll wear off tomorrow."
"I think that's the Lord," Luke laughs. "But I hope so."
"What, you don't like being tall?"
"Shut up! You don't enjoy my genius brain?"
"I think your genius brain migrated to my body so no. I'm enjoying your hair though."
"Shut it! I don't need your sarcasm, mister."
"It's not sarcasm!" Noah touches the hair, crushes a curl between his palm. "It's so soft."
"Yeah, you forgot my products. It's sitting weird." Luke fidgets with the hair, styling it with his hands this way and that. It's so adorable the seriousness with which he's proceeding. Noah strokes his hands along Luke's wrists until Luke's looking at him.
"What?"
Noah kisses him. Or himself. But it's okay because Luke's kissing him back, enthusiastically, all hands and oh, oh, this is interesting being backed up against the door this way, Luke's hands splayed over the ribs and slipping up higher to cradle his head. And god, this is different from all the other kisses they have ever shared and yet the same. It's the same heat. It's the same soft and the same hard and the same love, Noah wants to say.
Luke tugs him forward by the striped sweater. "Come to bed."
~~
It should probably be strange to make love to yourself as your ex-lover, Noah thinks. Except this isn't himself at all. And he isn't really Luke. Luke pushes him down to the blankets and straddles him and Noah's few remaining words scatter like ants in the rain.
"Turn your brain off, Noah." Luke touches his face the way he used to, tender, like his arm's a spigot feeding him love piping hot and fresh, made just for him.
Luke kisses him softly and then fiercely and Noah's brain clicks off dutifully. He licks into Luke all the fuzzy word trails he hasn't managed to arrange, much less say yet. And Luke takes them, hungrily, greedily and grinds down against him.
"I thought- I thought you already-" Noah laughs a little against Luke's lips.
"What can I say? I'm gorgeous." Luke's eyes twinkle.
Noah really laughs then. "Damn right."
And then Luke's on him, kissing the laugh out of him, kissing all the breath out of him until they're panting and yanking at the clothes in between them.
The rest is easy. Their bodies are familiar, know just what they liked. Pinned down a bit, teeth scraping just a tad, sucking - god, right there low on the neck. And there high on the chest. And there. God, definitely there. Don't stop.
Afterwards, Noah falls asleep helplessly fast. He vaguely recalls lips on his shoulders, lips on his lips, hands pressing large and warm against his hands, fingers tangling. Then darkness.
~~
Noah can't tell what time it is when he wakes. The sky's a grainy gray, a lush contrast to the golden head of hair slumped on top of him. Noah swallows against his thirst as he pets lightly down Luke's back, thumb grazing along Luke's spine.
It's then that his mind wakes. Luke's on top of him with blond hair. It delights a laugh out of him. When Luke groans and burrows his face further onto Noah's chest, Noah kisses the top of Luke's head. This - god, he misses this. He's not even sorry when he hugs Luke a little too hard and wakes him for good.
The puppy dog glare he earns for it is even welcome. He's missed that too. "Afternoon, sunshine."
"Noah?" Luke goes from grumpy to confused to delighted in seconds. Noah could watch that face forever.
"Hi."
"Hi." Luke settles his chin on Noah's chest, and Noah couldn't help stroking through Luke's hair, getting the layers mussed and perfect.
"You're you," Luke marvels.
"You're you too."
Luke's eyes smile brilliant gold shimmering green. "Thank god."
"I'm glad you're here. Even if it's through...whatever that was."
"Christmas miracle? The greatest hallucination of our lives? Santa weed?"
Noah laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah. Strangest thing that's happened in my life and that's saying a lot."
Luke smiles against his chest and they settle snugly into the hug, fingers idling along skin, sweet, lazy.
"I wrote a book," Luke says to Noah's sternum. "Just finished it last night."
Noah breathes and tries to sound surprised with his half mumble, half grunt.
"I didn't tell you because I wanted to tell you face to face." Luke darts a look up at him. "I mean, I wrote it for me, to get all of these… I don't know, feelings out. But I wrote it for you, too. It's like - you know, when musicians write songs about their exes?"
"Uh oh." Noah's heart seizes up. That can't be good.
"No, no, it's more Adele and less Taylor Swift."
"Huh?"
"I'm still in love with you, doofus." Luke swallows and licks uncertainly at his lips. "I mean - we're not perfect. Who is? But you're my person. No one else gets me the way you do. And I like just being with you, talking with you."
"Really?" Some days, Noah still can't believe Luke likes him back. It seems against the greatest of odds.
Luke dimples prettily as he looks up. "Really."
"Me too. I mean - being with you, talking, anything."
Luke shuffles up and drops a kiss on his chin and another one on his lips.
"Congratulations," Noah blurts out belatedly, "on your book. That's - that's really amazing."
"It's not a book yet," Luke demurs. "I still have to edit the hell out of it."
"It's a start though," Noah insists. He's so proud of Luke and hopes some of his pride comes through in his look.
Luke beams at him with all the happiness Noah has missed on his face. "It's definitely a start."
So maybe the worst Christmas ever turns out to be the best.
So far.
Author: sweetiejelly
Rating: (light?) R
Disclaimer: Characters/world not mine.
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Noah, Lucinda, Natalie, Casey, Alison
Word Count: 3037
Warnings: Crack-ish?
Summary: Surely ‘I want to be where he is’ doesn’t mean ‘I want to be him’?
Notes: Written for wishlist_fic 2013 for moongirl24's prompt: "This is the worst Christmas ever." Hope this is sort of what you're looking for, Lene, even if it's a bit more crack than fluff, though I'd like to think there's a bit of that here too, hee. ♥ AO3 link.
It isn’t actually supposed to come true is the thing. That wish he made last night in a haze. Perhaps he used the wrong preposition, because this isn’t exactly what he wished for either.
Surely ‘I want to be where he is’ doesn’t mean ‘I want to be him’?
But now Noah is here, in Oakdale, in Luke’s body, and Lucinda has been squinting at him for the past five minutes from across the breakfast table.
“What is it, darling? Nothing of interest on the internet today? Your phone’s uncharged? Lost?”
Noah gulps down the milk on his tongue, gulps down the crazy truth too. “Forgot my password,” he shrugs.
“All right, who are you and what have you done with my grandson?”
That surprises a choke out of him. If only he could tell her. He settles for one of Luke’s impish smiles instead.
“Zero six zero one,” she tells him after a sip of coffee.
June first. Noah’s birthday. “He - I told you?”
“You didn’t have to, darling. Really, are you sure you haven’t hit your head?”
Noah puts down the toast and licks his lips (Luke’s lips). He does it again and then blushes under Lucinda's gaze. “Maybe I’m still a little tired…” he trails off.
“Writing deep into the night will do that to you. How’s the book coming along?”
Noah startles. A book. Luke hasn’t mentioned a book. At least not online, not in any social capacity.
Not to him. An ache blooms in his chest. He had thought they were at least still good friends. They talk. Almost daily, in fact. Apparently about nothing of importance.
"Good," he lies. "Well, you know. Some days I love it. Some days I hate it." He still remembers way too much of everything Luke Snyder. Absentmindedly, he touches the back of his neck, of Luke's neck. It feels different from this angle, different under this hand.
"And what day is it today?"
"Christmas," he says before he even thinks about it.
Lucinda laughs. "Christmas indeed. Are you going to see that nice young man of yours?"
Noah freezes. What young man? What is this? Besides possibly the worst Christmas ever?
"I know you don't want me to push," Lucinda is saying. "Me and your parents and Faith and Natalie. But, Luke, darling, it is time. You know it is. It's past time."
Noah breathes through his disappointment. Everyone thought Luke should be moving on with his mystery man? "Time-time for… presents?" He tries to play it off. Luke would, wouldn't he, if he was resisting?
"Oh no," Lucinda holds up a hand. "No details. If you must, write about your presents in that book of yours. They do say to write what you know."
"Grandmother!" Noah couldn't fight the blush if he tried.
"I'm just saying." Lucinda gets up and brushes a hand through her hair. "You know where to find my jet."
"I need your jet?" Luke's guy isn't local?
"Honestly, Luke, what's gotten into you? You're going to - what? Walk to Los Angeles?"
Fuck. Luke's guy's in L.A.? Noah spares a heartbeat of hope that-that… but he can't.
"Here - if you can't persuade that stubborn boy to come back with you, give him this," Lucinda presses a wrapped rectangle into his hands. "Merry Christmas, Luke." She presses a kiss to his cheek.
Noah stares at the obviously-a-DVD, possibly-for-him gift, and rubs his thumbs repeatedly along the sharp corners. "Merry Christmas."
~~
When he finds Luke's phone upstairs, Noah punches in zero-six-zero-one, one slow digit at a time.
He half expects it to balk at him. Perhaps Lucinda doesn't know everything. Perhaps Luke changed the password. Perhaps -
But the lock screen fades away and Noah's heart beats like a thief in his chest. He's snooping. Or at least he's thinking about snooping. There are a few games on the phone and a few writing apps. A weather app. UsTube.
He clicks on the phone icon and registers how high up on the contact list his name is. He has always been there in the number three spot, right behind dad and mom and surprisingly before Lucinda and Emma, Faith and Natalie. He remembers teasing Luke about it. But it's another name that grabs his attention. It's simply labeled "booty call." And wow, okay. Is this the worst Christmas ever or the worst Christmas ever?
Noah gulps and presses down quickly to call himself.
The phone rings and rings and no one picks up. Right. Luke doesn't have his password. And Noah's place in L.A. could fit neatly inside the kitchen at the Snyder farm. He has no grandmother or even a roommate to speak of. Luke wouldn't be answering his phone today.
Noah flops down on the bed. On Luke's bed. On the bed where he woke this morning and had a spectacular freak out. Luke's probably having a similar one, with more cuss words.
Noah drums his fingertips over his chest, over Luke's worn striped t-shirt. He wonders how long he's going to be trapped in Luke's body and what kind of voodoo this is. If it's supposed to be a Christmas miracle, it's fallen way short.
Well, there is the fact that he actually possesses Luke's body. But that doesn't mean he can kiss him the way he wants to, cupping Luke's cheeks like he's about to take a drink. Or to hug him the way he wants to, sinking snug into their combined body heat.
He can take a shower though. That seems like the polite thing to do.
Noah takes the longest shower (by his standards, which by Luke's standards probably isn't long at all). But the mirror fogs up more than half way and he's too short to see beyond Luke's face studying him with sharp eyes. And he realizes how much of Luke's smart mouth he misses, how much of Luke's big, brave heart. This booty call asshole - well, if he's only getting Luke's body, then Noah isn't going to get jealous. He isn't.
Methodically, he pulls on layers of his favorite Luke clothes from the closet. Luke's a bit of a hoarder that way. "It's my favorite. Why would I throw it away?" was what Luke said once when Faith ribbed him about the worn thin sleeve of a shirt. Noah had fallen just that little bit more in love with him then.
Luke keeps his favorites around for as long as he can. Maybe Luke would keep him, too.
Luke kept his pictures around at least. Noah didn't notice it at first, but on the bedside table is one of Luke's favorites. In the shot, Noah has his arms around Luke, eyes closed in bliss. Even now, Noah could recall every line of Luke cuddled on his lap.
Noah smiled when he saw it, recalled that perfect afternoon. Cherish the good things in life - that's one lesson he's learning to learn.
Cherish, for example, the fact that Natalie's number is on Luke's phone.
"Should I go to L.A., Nat? Should I go see…" And Noah lets Luke's voice trail off. Natalie hasn't grown cynical and suspicious yet. And Noah has never loved her innocence as much as now.
"Yes! Oh my god, Luke. Go! Don't chicken out again. It's Christmas and you know we want you to be happy." She pauses, as if debating whether to continue that thought. Softer, almost somber, she says, "And Noah made you happy, Luke."
He's the L.A. guy! He's the L.A. guy! Noah could feel Luke's cheek pressing against the phone in his grin.
~~
Noah loves Lucinda's jet, always has. But the pilot in his uniform makes Noah stand consciously straighter and makes his hand itch to salute. He couldn't help the "yes sir" that slips out when the pilot asked if he was ready to go.
And he is ready. He's so ready to go home.
~~
Noah knocks on his own door and waits with hands in pockets. The flight was too long and then too short. He hasn't decided on what to say. He never knows quite what to say. Luke always had the words. Luke's the one writing a book and possibly hiding a lover and possibly still loves him nonetheless.
It's weird seeing his own face from Luke's perspective. The mirror mirrors and from here everything seems a bit shuffled - his eyebrow scar in particular seems to be in the wrong place, at the wrong angle.
"Okay, so I haven't died or hit my head. I just woke up and I didn't know where I was or even when I was or why I was naked." Luke gestures to himself, clothed now thankfully, and Noah ducks his head in a blush.
"Also, what did you do to my hair?" Luke reaches out and pets down a strand, curling his finger hard around it, almost yanking and ow.
"Washed it."
"Washed it," Luke repeats his response. And then they crack up over the absurdity of everything about this moment.
"Oh god, I'm losing my mind. I wanted so badly to see you and then I am you and somehow you're me." Luke's gesturing wildly between the two of them. "And then I'm jerking off and it feels different and yet so familiar and-"
"Who's 'booty call'?" Noah blurts because the image of Luke in his bed touching him is vivid and too much and Noah has to know.
"What?" Luke looks confused for a second and then his eyes pops wide and he seems to lift off the ground on a tiptoes. "Oh! Here - give me the phone."
Luke thumbs in his code and scrolls over to call the number. He holds the phone to Noah's ear and stares at him with a little smile.
"Luke, man, merry Christmas!" Casey's voice comes over warm and energetic as always. "Allie says hi."
"Casey!" Noah says a little confused. "Hi! Um, merry-merry Christmas."
Luke takes the phone from him. "Merry Christmas, Casey!"
"Noah!" Noah hears Casey's exclamation loud and clear. 'Prank' Luke mouths as Noah stares. "Uh-huh, uh-huh…" Luke has a whole long conversation of those with Casey and possibly Allie on the phone as Noah lets himself in the apartment and closes the door.
Noah's draping his coat over the back of the sofa when Luke ends the call. "So, is Casey the booty call? Or is it Allie?"
"Shut up." Luke grins but then gets serious. He licked his lips and played with his fingers. "Remember when Case and Allie had that huge fight earlier in the year? He got so drunk and crashed over at mine. I told him I was possibly the worst person he could have come to for advice or comfort. I told him I didn't even have a booty call. Well, next thing I know, I've got 'booty call' on my phone."
Noah snorts. "Sounds like drunk Casey."
"Hey, don't diss drunk Casey. Drunk Casey loves me."
"You are pretty lovable, I guess."
Luke looks at him and ducks his head a little. Noah thinks he may even be blushing. "Am I?"
"Luke." Noah doesn't know what to say. I love you sounds cheap, easy, as does every other thing he can think of to say. So he says none of them, just holds Luke to him. It feels weird having his head tucked under Luke's. It feels odd literally hugging himself. But Luke sighs a little and wraps his arms more securely around him and the weird fades a little.
"How long do you think we're going to be stuck like this?" Luke asks.
"I don't know."
"Do you think this is just a really, really lucid dream?"
"After I came out of the surgery… I dreamt I was shooting a scene outdoors, in the forest, and it was a really sunny day. The sun was in my eyes. And-and I couldn't see. But then you moved closer. I could see that it was you, and you were the best thing I'd ever seen. You were smiling and I just - I knew it was going to be okay."
"Noah." Luke pulls back to look at him.
"I-I know. That's not the same as this at all. But that was a lucid dream, I guess. I don't know what this is."
"Maybe Santa slipped us something."
"Doesn't Santa giveth and taketh away? Maybe it'll wear off tomorrow."
"I think that's the Lord," Luke laughs. "But I hope so."
"What, you don't like being tall?"
"Shut up! You don't enjoy my genius brain?"
"I think your genius brain migrated to my body so no. I'm enjoying your hair though."
"Shut it! I don't need your sarcasm, mister."
"It's not sarcasm!" Noah touches the hair, crushes a curl between his palm. "It's so soft."
"Yeah, you forgot my products. It's sitting weird." Luke fidgets with the hair, styling it with his hands this way and that. It's so adorable the seriousness with which he's proceeding. Noah strokes his hands along Luke's wrists until Luke's looking at him.
"What?"
Noah kisses him. Or himself. But it's okay because Luke's kissing him back, enthusiastically, all hands and oh, oh, this is interesting being backed up against the door this way, Luke's hands splayed over the ribs and slipping up higher to cradle his head. And god, this is different from all the other kisses they have ever shared and yet the same. It's the same heat. It's the same soft and the same hard and the same love, Noah wants to say.
Luke tugs him forward by the striped sweater. "Come to bed."
~~
It should probably be strange to make love to yourself as your ex-lover, Noah thinks. Except this isn't himself at all. And he isn't really Luke. Luke pushes him down to the blankets and straddles him and Noah's few remaining words scatter like ants in the rain.
"Turn your brain off, Noah." Luke touches his face the way he used to, tender, like his arm's a spigot feeding him love piping hot and fresh, made just for him.
Luke kisses him softly and then fiercely and Noah's brain clicks off dutifully. He licks into Luke all the fuzzy word trails he hasn't managed to arrange, much less say yet. And Luke takes them, hungrily, greedily and grinds down against him.
"I thought- I thought you already-" Noah laughs a little against Luke's lips.
"What can I say? I'm gorgeous." Luke's eyes twinkle.
Noah really laughs then. "Damn right."
And then Luke's on him, kissing the laugh out of him, kissing all the breath out of him until they're panting and yanking at the clothes in between them.
The rest is easy. Their bodies are familiar, know just what they liked. Pinned down a bit, teeth scraping just a tad, sucking - god, right there low on the neck. And there high on the chest. And there. God, definitely there. Don't stop.
Afterwards, Noah falls asleep helplessly fast. He vaguely recalls lips on his shoulders, lips on his lips, hands pressing large and warm against his hands, fingers tangling. Then darkness.
~~
Noah can't tell what time it is when he wakes. The sky's a grainy gray, a lush contrast to the golden head of hair slumped on top of him. Noah swallows against his thirst as he pets lightly down Luke's back, thumb grazing along Luke's spine.
It's then that his mind wakes. Luke's on top of him with blond hair. It delights a laugh out of him. When Luke groans and burrows his face further onto Noah's chest, Noah kisses the top of Luke's head. This - god, he misses this. He's not even sorry when he hugs Luke a little too hard and wakes him for good.
The puppy dog glare he earns for it is even welcome. He's missed that too. "Afternoon, sunshine."
"Noah?" Luke goes from grumpy to confused to delighted in seconds. Noah could watch that face forever.
"Hi."
"Hi." Luke settles his chin on Noah's chest, and Noah couldn't help stroking through Luke's hair, getting the layers mussed and perfect.
"You're you," Luke marvels.
"You're you too."
Luke's eyes smile brilliant gold shimmering green. "Thank god."
"I'm glad you're here. Even if it's through...whatever that was."
"Christmas miracle? The greatest hallucination of our lives? Santa weed?"
Noah laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah. Strangest thing that's happened in my life and that's saying a lot."
Luke smiles against his chest and they settle snugly into the hug, fingers idling along skin, sweet, lazy.
"I wrote a book," Luke says to Noah's sternum. "Just finished it last night."
Noah breathes and tries to sound surprised with his half mumble, half grunt.
"I didn't tell you because I wanted to tell you face to face." Luke darts a look up at him. "I mean, I wrote it for me, to get all of these… I don't know, feelings out. But I wrote it for you, too. It's like - you know, when musicians write songs about their exes?"
"Uh oh." Noah's heart seizes up. That can't be good.
"No, no, it's more Adele and less Taylor Swift."
"Huh?"
"I'm still in love with you, doofus." Luke swallows and licks uncertainly at his lips. "I mean - we're not perfect. Who is? But you're my person. No one else gets me the way you do. And I like just being with you, talking with you."
"Really?" Some days, Noah still can't believe Luke likes him back. It seems against the greatest of odds.
Luke dimples prettily as he looks up. "Really."
"Me too. I mean - being with you, talking, anything."
Luke shuffles up and drops a kiss on his chin and another one on his lips.
"Congratulations," Noah blurts out belatedly, "on your book. That's - that's really amazing."
"It's not a book yet," Luke demurs. "I still have to edit the hell out of it."
"It's a start though," Noah insists. He's so proud of Luke and hopes some of his pride comes through in his look.
Luke beams at him with all the happiness Noah has missed on his face. "It's definitely a start."
So maybe the worst Christmas ever turns out to be the best.
So far.