Now and Again (2/??)
Title: Now and Again (2/??)
Author: alissablue
Rating: PG-13/R, will be NC-17 eventually.
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Reid, Noah, other Oakdale characters and an OC here or there.
Category: Fix it-fic, AU
Summary: “If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences.”- W.I. Thomas
Warnings: Angsty Angst, some mindfuckery
Disclaimer: Do not own. Wish I did, though. I could make them do all sorts of kinky stuff.
A/N: Keywords for this fic are ‘patience’ and ‘payoff’. I have been working on this since... September(?) and I've finally written enough chapters to start posting. Title credit goes to my epically awesome beta slayerkitty, who deserves a round of applause for sitting through my long rants, freak outs, smut-related giggles and posting hesitation.
A/N: Me + comments is like... Reid + Sandwiches<3.
Prologue / 1 /
ETA: In light of the new community rules: This chapter (and this chapter alone) has a little Reid/OC.
Chapter 2: As soon as I get the ‘what’ back in my life, I’ll be fine
On the same quiet morning in mid June, a doctor awoke in his bed in Dallas, Texas. He too felt the beginning of a burning summer heat seeping through the window. Like Luke Snyder, he stared at his off-white ceiling and traced the faded brush strokes with his eyes. But unlike Luke Snyder, he wasn’t alone. To his right lay a brown eyed, blond haired guy, still asleep with the same silly smile on his face, the last thing Reid had seen before he had closed his eyes several hours earlier.
Not right. Not right. Not right.
Not.
Him.
The words repeated themselves like a thumping heart, like a steady, endless heartbeat, reminding him of the very essence of life, the very thing he’d felt more and more uncomfortable about since January. That he was alive, alive and breathing, alive as if he wasn’t supposed to be. And maybe, as if he wasn’t at all. As though he walked, floated through the halls of his hospital like a ghost, as though he was disconnected with his life, with himself, crawling out of his skin, like he wasn’t even supposed to be in it. And it was a feeling he tried to shake every morning and one that came back every night.
The doctor had met the guy - Matt? Richard? Casey? Whatever- the previous night in a bar he swore carried the gayest name in the history of gay bars and the minute he laid his eyes on the gorgeous, brown eyed, blond - sex on legs -, he had known he wanted him, he had felt an ache in his heart and he had known something about it felt inherently right.
- “Do you think we’re right?”
“I think we could be.”-
Inherently right, so, so right for a moment, for a split second he was right where he needed to be. And that knowledge confused, overwhelmed and exhilarated him at the same time, but the ache he felt at the sight of him hit him like a ton of bricks and before he knew it, his hands were all over the blond and he was asking him, urging him on to go harder, faster and deeper.
Why he had felt that ache at the sight of him, he still didn’t know, after touching him, feeling him for hours on end, nor did he know why it was still there afterward, coinciding with the feeling that hovered over him like a dark cloud of gloom during every single moment of his day.
And, finally, he had no idea why he suddenly felt the all consuming and overwhelming urge to tell the guy to get the fuck out of his apartment.
Not right. Not right. Not right.
“Not. Him.” The dedicated surgeon thought to himself, as he stared at his alarm clock, watching the digits change by the minute, with those by now familiar arms heavily wrapped around him. He felt the guy’s breath on the back of his neck and every breath gave a sting as if it was yet another vague reminder of how he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. How this was not where he was supposed to be.
Not with whom he was supposed to be.
But the ‘who’ in his life was nonexistent, a quiescent wish he’d had once upon a time, when he was still doe eyed and cloyingly naïve. And yet, he now felt it all the time, clawing at his insides, fighting against the better part of him. And if he didn’t know any better, he’d describe the feeling, the stinging reminders as heartache at the absence of someone he didn’t even know. But he did know better. He knew, thought, no, was convinced that he knew what he was missing in his life.
For as long as he could remember, his life had been a roller coaster of surgery, sex and sandwiches, had been a string of mindless, meaningless fucks, leading to a somewhat fulfilling life. Fulfilling, exuberant, thrilling, all that he could hope for and so much more. Or so he thought. Or so he had told himself numerous times, trying to convince himself of the fabrication that he had everything he’d ever need in life.
Everything he’d ever need to survive.
“The nonexistent ‘who’ in his life was a ‘what’ and that ‘what’ was surgery”, he told himself.
Not right. Not right. Not right.
Not. Right.
Him?
That.
Reid knew exactly who to blame for this current disentanglement from his self, his form, his soul. Yes, if anyone was to blame for him feeling like he was losing his mind, scratching, tearing, clawing at his insides at the nothingness that he feared his life was becoming, it was the Texas Medical Board. The medical board and the jerk, who had decided that he had to wait six whole months, -six fucking months- to fight for his medical license.
Six months he had to spend on his own without the perfect balance of sex, surgery and sandwiches, the three things that made him happier than anything else, or anyone for that matter, had ever made him. And it was the imbalance of the three that had him on edge 24/7, that had him climbing the walls for anything even resembling the high of saving a life. Anything resembling the high a successful surgery could put him on.
“As soon as I get the ‘what’ back in my life, I’ll be fine”, he said.
********
Reid slowly kicked off his light blue sheets and got out of his bed, careful not to wake Matt-or-Richard-or-Casey, who murmured something in his sleep and turned the other way. -Not. Him.- Reid looked around, rummaging through his bag, trying to find his beeper and eventually remembering it had been in the front pocket of his jeans.
Ignoring the faint head ache that was starting to creep up, he tried to recall where he had pulled them off and thrown them away the night before, in the throes of getting the guy out of his clothes and in his bed.
Bluish grey, buttoned shirt on his dark blue couch.
The guy’s white, figure hugging tee shirt on his kitchen counter.
Strange, polka dotted -really?- boxers in the sink.
Black jeans next to his bed.
And his own pair in the bathroom, for some reason, with a buzzing beeper in its’ pocket. The beeper that he wished would still go off every morning, as if he had a surgery to get to, as if he was still needed somewhere. The one he ended up going crazy without.
********
“Reid?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Hi, what do you need?”
“David, I’m going out of my mind, I need to get back inside the OR. Dennis Judd can’t seriously keep me away from my livelihood for six whole months.”
“I thought we agreed on the hearing in October?”
“I can’t do October... I’m fucking climbing the walls here! Why don’t- Can’t you pull some strings? You know, do that thing that you do?”
“That thing? Blackmail, bribery, all the things that get you all hot and bothered? I thought you were above ‘extraordinary measures’, Dr. Oliver.”
“Fu- Screw being ‘above’ anything! I can’t take this anymore, Dave. Come on, I though you sharks- lawyers, loved to stoop to the level of ‘the end justifies the means’?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait fair and square? I remember a certain doctor spouting on and on about young, rich kids and a silver spoon he hoped they-”
“You think you’re gonna win points, get more money, by repeating my words back to me? Make it happen.”
“I’ll see what I can do to get you an emergency hearing.”
“Thank you.”
Reid hung up the phone and looked at his own reflection staring back at him with piercing blue eyes and a questioning look. Shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up. It’s worth it, I need surgery, I need to get my hands back where they belong. Inside someone’s brain.
Shut.
Up.
“As soon as I get the ‘what’ back in my life, I’ll be fine.”
NEXT
********
A/N: Oh, Reid, so delusional.... Thanks for reading, comments/questions/rants/whatnot are love<3333!