Now and Again (7/??)
Title: Now and Again
Author: slayerkitty
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 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6
Chapter 7: But I’m willing to try
Luke looked out the window of his hotel room on the sixth floor. They had arrived the night before, after sundown, and Luke hadn’t gotten the chance to really check out his view. He put his left hand on the cold glass, as if he could touch the skyscrapers if he tried hard enough and Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an amazing view.
Luke had woken up at 5.30 in the morning, restless after yet another night of vivid dreams with crude awakenings. Coinciding with the trip to Dallas, his dreams had all somehow been about Dallas or related to Dallas, ranging from a dream about mechanical bull riding -yippee ki yay- , a little girl -She had a nice smile. Brave, like she knew we were worried for her- and, finally, kissing the auburn haired guy.
It was about 6.30 am and the sun had just come up, spreading a nice, warm yellowish glow and small, fluffy white clouds all over the buildings and houses in Luke’s view. He smiled at the mesmerizing sight and lightly touched his bottom lip, remembering the best - Best? What?- part about his dream.
They had been standing in a room he didn’t recognize, the man on the phone with his back to Luke and when he hung up, he had suddenly turned around, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed the hell out of him, leaving Luke dumbfounded at the confession afterward that he had been wanting to do that for a long time.
Luke’s trail of thought was interrupted by a mumbling Noah, who was still asleep, stirring on his bed and kicking his sheets off of him. It was even hotter in Dallas than in Oakdale and Oakdale was already bordering on a full blown heat wave. Luke walked over to Noah’s bed, squeezed his right shoulder and shook him back and forth a little.
“Luke… What are you doing? What time is it?”
“Rise and shine, Noah. It’s 6.40 am, time to get up!”
“6.40? What the hell, Luke?”
********
Luke walked around, taking in the neurological wing in awe around 9.30 in the morning, after they had finally found it after wandering around for twenty-five minutes, mindlessly following every single arrow with a neurological term.
He had rolled his eyes and shaken his head, when Noah refused to let him ask for directions, when they were, as he had said ‘perfectly capable of finding it ourselves’, followed by ‘we’re not idiots, Luke’ and the signature, I don’t want anybody’s help’.
And, finally, after Luke had become convinced that he had seen the exact same picture of a donkey and a dog playing poker on the wall a few minutes earlier and five minutes before that, Noah sighed and mumbled something about approaching the next nurse they ran into. Staying silent since Luke had asked for directions, Noah walked a few feet behind him. He intuitively followed Luke and his distinct Snyder-like shuffles, while still using his cane to feel a bit safer, as they walked through the corridors.
********
Parkland Memorial Hospital, in Dallas, Texas, was a fine, upstanding institution, one of the best teaching hospitals in the country and it had a state of the art neurological facility Luke sensed would put Oakdale Memorial’s to shame. Everything was so shiny and sterile and modern, compared to Oakdale’s homey, colorful appearance that had always helped him feel a bit more comfortable during his various hospital trips throughout the years.
Everyone at Memorial knew each other by their first name and most of the time also knew -and discussed - the ins and outs of everyone’s private life. Luke had never been in a hospital like Parkland, chaotic, fast and cold, where the patients seemed like numbers, statistics and the doctors believed in efficiency over comfort and treating the illness over the entire patient.
“Luke Snyder?”
Luke turned around at the sound of his name and stared right back into the green eyes of an older man in a white doctor’s coat. The man was tall, about 6 feet, had dark brown hair, with a slight amount of grey at the sides. He looked about fifty years old, experienced and skilled and he reminded Luke of one of those classic actors he’d seen in one of the black and white films Noah had forced him to watch, with the light, trimmed stubble on his strong jaw. The doctor had a smirk on his face, oozing self confidence and determination.
“Dr. Channing?”
“Yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Snyder.” He stepped forward, shaking Luke’s hand, before turning his attention towards Noah. “And I assume this is the patient, Mr. Mayer?” Noah nodded and put out his hand, which Channing grabbed and curled his fingers around, as he eagerly shook his hand.
********
Two days after getting reinstated, Reid Oliver stood outside of Parkland Memorial Hospital, practically bouncing up and down, with a donut in his left hand and bottle of water in his right. He was wearing a buttoned, maroon dress shirt underneath his white doctor’s coat, a pair of black jeans and his beeper attached to his belt where it belonged, to his delight.
He was excited, to say the least.
During the first week of his suspension, he had still stayed in his daily routine, blaming it on the force of habit. He would wake up, get a cup of coffee and a bagel, drive to work and sit in his car, reading the newspaper, before putting on his coat and entering his favorite place in the world. Then, he would sit behind his wooden desk, arranging his patient files and catering to his rigid, methodical needs, to lessen the sting of not being allowed to do anything surgical.
He had scribbled pages and pages worth of medical jargon to keep himself grounded, made lists of all the things he had never gotten a chance to do over the years, like fishing or sightseeing -not that he wanted to, now that he did have the time - , played medical hangman and chess with some of the small human beings at pediatrics and walked through the corridors so many times, even he got tired of his own workplace and decided to just stay away, as some kind of means to an end. The end being, not to torture himself even more with the smell of surgery and the sight of his co-workers, most notably William Channing. Bastard.
He stood there, reinstated and perky -as perky as Reid Oliver could be, anyway- taking in the windows, the automatic doors, the walls and the people walking in and out of the hospital. He could see the windows of the neurological wing from where he was standing and he smiled at the sight. Being back, standing in front of the giant building, his beloved, giant building, seemed unreal, almost too good to be true. And deep down, he knew it probably was, that his feelings of disentanglement wouldn’t just go away.
‘But I’m willing to try’, he thought, as he approached the automatic doors.
********
Denise Graham, a petite blonde with grey eyes and small freckles on her nose, stood behind the counter of the shop on the first floor of Parkland Memorial Hospital. It was a small establishment and she had worked there for two years, trying to make enough money to get herself through med school. The shop was open 24 hours a day, 7 hours a week, as there were always hungry people at a hospital, and Denise was going on the tenth hour of her twelve hour shift. To say she was tired, agitated and trying to keep herself from sawing off her feet at the sheer exhaustion, was an understatement.
In front of Denise, looking at their menu in awe and biting his bottom lip whenever he changed his order, stood a young man in his early twenties. He had been standing there for the past fifteen minutes, changing his order, whenever he saw yet another wonderful thing their shop had to offer. Denise was this close to begging him to just pick something to get it over with, when he looked her in the eyes with a doe eyed expression, that made her smile a little despite herself.
“Uh, I don’t really know… What was that third thing you mentioned? A Panini?” “Yes.”
“Right… No, not one of those. I think - Yeah, I’m in the mood for a bagel. Definitely.”
“Are you sure, sir? This is only your fourth order in ten minutes.” Luke scratched the back of his neck as if he was nervous, unsure of his every move and the sales girl sighed, lightly biting the inside of her cheek. He looked over her shoulder, at the large menu behind her and bit his lip, before he smiled at her again and shrugged.
“I’m not changing my mind again, I promise. A bagel, please… Oh, and I’d like a muffin, too. One of those- Those appleish muffins.”
“Apple cinnamon?” The sales girl raised one eyebrow at Luke, who looked back at her through his eyelashes and offered her a small, shy smile.
“Yeah, those. Thanks”
“That’ll be 12,50, sir.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
********
It took less than five minutes - three minutes and fifty seconds, not that Denise was keeping track or anything - after the guy had left, for Denise to get another customer. As she saw the young man disappear into one of the elevators, another customer came out of the one next to it. Another customer that made her want to bang her head against a wall.
“I’d like a hamburger. And not one of those cheap, greasy germ fests you can get at a drive through. This is a quality hospital and I want a big, quality burger. But leave out the pickles. And I don’t want it laced with mustard, just a little will be fine. Don’t drench it in mayo, put enough lettuce on it and make sure there’s more tomato than onion. The key word here is pro-por-tio-na-lity. Got that?”
“Okay…”
“Are you competent enough to follow that order, or do you want me to use smaller words?”
“Nope, got it.”
“Good, congratulations, I’m excited. Deliriously happy. I’d like a newspaper, too.”
“Sure. That’ll be 7,80.”
“That’s preposterous.”
Denise was aware of the fact that this was not her lucky day.
NEXT
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A/N: 1) Big hug to slayerkitty for the near miss^^. The chapter originally ended with Reid approaching the automatic doors, but she suggested a near miss and it kind of ended up becoming my favorite part of the whole chapter. 2) Parkland Memorial Hospital is a real hospital; Wikipedia said so! XD. You probably won't find very frustrated sales girl Denise there, though... 3) Next update is Monday or Tuesday, depending on whether I finish my paper on time (Although I'm the biggest procrastinator in the world, so don't be surprised if I update this weekend anyway XD). But to make up for this week, I'll update three or four times next week. =)