[Fic] ATWT Ficlet, "Yes, we will fight about this"; Luke/Reid, Rated PG
Um, this is a schmoopy little ficlet because unwittingly, I have managed to fall into a serious flirtation with a soap opera fandom. Even though I have not watched a soap for a good twenty years, and even then, As the World Turns was not a soap I watched. Still, things are what they are, and this ficlet is the result. But OMG this is such a fun fandom, and the little snippets of these two are like crack! I had to play. Inspired by the Lure comm's Friday prompt, "Fight". Posted here because, well, this was posted originally as comment fic, when I was tired and in between things, and the typos embarrass me. I needed someplace to post the cleaned up version. Please note that standard disclaimers apply.
[For those on my flist who are bored enough to read this even though you think I have lost my mind, Reid is a doctor (a brilliant surgeon, best in the world, because dude, in soaps, no one is mediocre even in a small town), Luke is pretty and young and rich and has your standard soap-kid history (evil dad, kidnappings, clothing angst) and had, in the past, an alcohol addiction that led to a kidney transplant (I'm not entirely sure why his liver escaped unscathed, but then, I don't watch this soap, and I'm not a doctor, so. OTOH, I'm not sure being a doctor would help in this instance. Whatever. Fun!)]
I know what you're thinking. I do. Stop it. I've had a really stressful work-week full of crying people and needed something fun? Yes. Also, if you get a chance, watch the clips! So much fun. Fandom is love!
Yeah, I'm really stressed, which is why I'm babbling in type. I just have to make it to December, and things will be better. In the meantime, I will probably be writing lots of sleep-deprived ficlets at 3 a.m. when I ought to be either working or sleeping. Try not to be afraid.
(This is also, incidentally, for the "wildcard" square on my h/c bingo card.)
***********************************
In retrospect, he really should have told Reid last Wednesday. Reid was brutally honest--have you been playing paintball and forgot to change? Was competency not a requirement for this job?--but Luke kind of loved that about him. And Luke knew that Reid prized honesty as well. So yeah, that’s what he should have done.
In fairness, he really hadn’t known until Tuesday. Because before that, he hadn’t even suspected anything until that Saturday about a month ago, even though he’d been feeling crappy for a while, but then he couldn’t ignore the blood in his urine, and then he’d done the right thing and called his nephrologist. And then it took a while to get an appointment--and yeah, he could likely have gotten an earlier appointment but only if he pushed his--or Reid’s--weight around, and Reid knew he hated doing that, because it wasn’t right. And then there was no use in worrying Reid when he was so busy and planning to go to that conference in Alaska, and then Reid was away, and the other symptoms were more or less manageable except for that one time he’d just kept throwing up, but --
But then, Dr. Murray had wanted to run tests, and of course, he didn’t want to say anything until it was conclusive, and Dr. Murray had said he shouldn’t worry until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, and then Reid had had that patient die in recovery, and he couldn’t tell him then, and then Dr. Murray had--
Dr. Murray had said, ”You should talk to Reid.”
Yes, Luke had said, I will. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow had been last Wednesday. And they’d gone out to dinner--Reid’s suggestion, because he was in a good mood, and Luke--looking at him, happy, laughing, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Luke--Luke just--
He just couldn’t.
And now, another week had slipped by. Murray wanted to admit him. And Luke? Luke didn’t--
His cell phone rang, and his heart sank.
A text from Reid.
I ran into Murray. WTF? We need to talk.
************************************
Reid had been having a relatively good day. He’d had a surgery first thing that was not only interesting but that had gone really well, a minimal amount of interaction with Gretchen, and his new assistant had gone ahead and done most of his weekly paperwork, leaving him only to review and sign where the stickies told him.
Yup, he’d been having a pretty good day. Until he’d run into Murray in the hall.
Reid had never much cared for Murray who was, if you asked him, way too cheerful, especially in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or late at night. But he was a damn good nephrologist, and he knew Luke liked Murray so, for Luke’s sake, Reid always tried extra-hard not to be too uncivil.
“Reid!” exclaimed Murray, overly cheerful, his balding head shining under the lights. Reid squinted at the glare. “Good to see you. I haven’t heard from Luke--I was hoping to finalize the paperwork to admit him tomorrow, but I’ve had a hard time getting a hold of him--”
Reid’s mind was reeling, but he managed to pull himself together to say, “That’s fine, he’ll be ready. You’re admitting him tomorrow?”
“Yes, it’s already been too long, and he’s gotten so anemic--hasn’t he spoken to you?” Murray paused, hesitating; Oakdale was teeny tiny, and in a town where everyone knew everything and everyone, the doctors at Memorial always had to be hyper-vigilant about ensuring confidentiality.
Not, of course, that it mattered.
Meanwhile, Reid was kicking himself. He was a doctor. He was a doctor, damn it, and how could he have missed the signs? Luke had been tired, he’d been claiming exhaustion and falling asleep every evening before Reid could even try for sex, skipping dinner or saying he’d already eaten, and he’d been pale. When Reid had asked, Luke had just used work as an excuse, but--
“Of course he has,” Reid lied smoothly. “You know Luke and I don’t keep secrets.” Reid knew he lied well. Not that he liked lying. Or had much use for it, usually. Still, he always felt if he was going to do anything, he might as well do it well. More importantly, in a little while and if he had anything to say about it--and he most certainly did--it wouldn’t be a lie, so it wouldn’t matter. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course, of course, we’ll talk later.” Murray waved him off genially, but Reid was already striding off, cell phone in one hand, typing out a text with the other, and plotting his route home.
Luke was sitting on the couch when he got home. When Reid entered, he startled, and swallowed, and said, “I don’t want to fight about this.” Looking at him, Reid could see all the signs--he was pale, and his face was slightly swollen; his expression was composed but his eyes glittered. He looked scared.
Reid’s heart ached for him, but he ignored it, asking in a calm, drawling voice, “Have you packed a bag for the hospital?”
“No, but--” Luke blinked in surprise, clearly expecting anger, but Reid cut him off.
“Then we’re going to fight about this.” His voice remained calm, his tone mild but firm. Luke looked like he was going to shatter. Reid crossed the room and crouched down in front of Luke, putting a gentle hand against Luke’s cheek. “Why didn’t you say something? I should have noticed, but Luke--”
Luke’s eyes grew shinier; the tears threatened to spill. “I’m sorry, I -- “
Reid leaned forward and kissed him, swallowing the unnecessary apology. “You don’t need to apologize, as long as you never do this again. You need to be honest with me, Luke, about whatever’s going on with you. This affects me too, all right?”
“You were so busy, and--” Luke began, but Reid interrupted once again.
“Newsflash, Mr. Snyder--I am a neurosurgeon, one of the best in the world. I’m always busy. That’s not an excuse.” Luke looked even more miserable but stayed silent, and he didn’t even crack a smile at the (not unfounded) boast. He was looking anywhere but at Reid. Watching him, Reid rose and sat beside him on the couch, pulling him into his arms. Luke resisted for a moment, but once in Reid’s arms, started crying helplessly. Reid just held him, stroking his back.
Reid didn’t whisper platitudes or offer reassurances or make false promises. In his view, those never helped. Instead, he provided facts: “I will help you.” “I will go with you.” “We’re in this together.”
“I love you.”
****************
Now sort of drabble series; if you're interested, part two is here.
[For those on my flist who are bored enough to read this even though you think I have lost my mind, Reid is a doctor (a brilliant surgeon, best in the world, because dude, in soaps, no one is mediocre even in a small town), Luke is pretty and young and rich and has your standard soap-kid history (evil dad, kidnappings, clothing angst) and had, in the past, an alcohol addiction that led to a kidney transplant (I'm not entirely sure why his liver escaped unscathed, but then, I don't watch this soap, and I'm not a doctor, so. OTOH, I'm not sure being a doctor would help in this instance. Whatever. Fun!)]
I know what you're thinking. I do. Stop it. I've had a really stressful work-week full of crying people and needed something fun? Yes. Also, if you get a chance, watch the clips! So much fun. Fandom is love!
Yeah, I'm really stressed, which is why I'm babbling in type. I just have to make it to December, and things will be better. In the meantime, I will probably be writing lots of sleep-deprived ficlets at 3 a.m. when I ought to be either working or sleeping. Try not to be afraid.
(This is also, incidentally, for the "wildcard" square on my h/c bingo card.)
***********************************
In retrospect, he really should have told Reid last Wednesday. Reid was brutally honest--have you been playing paintball and forgot to change? Was competency not a requirement for this job?--but Luke kind of loved that about him. And Luke knew that Reid prized honesty as well. So yeah, that’s what he should have done.
In fairness, he really hadn’t known until Tuesday. Because before that, he hadn’t even suspected anything until that Saturday about a month ago, even though he’d been feeling crappy for a while, but then he couldn’t ignore the blood in his urine, and then he’d done the right thing and called his nephrologist. And then it took a while to get an appointment--and yeah, he could likely have gotten an earlier appointment but only if he pushed his--or Reid’s--weight around, and Reid knew he hated doing that, because it wasn’t right. And then there was no use in worrying Reid when he was so busy and planning to go to that conference in Alaska, and then Reid was away, and the other symptoms were more or less manageable except for that one time he’d just kept throwing up, but --
But then, Dr. Murray had wanted to run tests, and of course, he didn’t want to say anything until it was conclusive, and Dr. Murray had said he shouldn’t worry until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, and then Reid had had that patient die in recovery, and he couldn’t tell him then, and then Dr. Murray had--
Dr. Murray had said, ”You should talk to Reid.”
Yes, Luke had said, I will. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow had been last Wednesday. And they’d gone out to dinner--Reid’s suggestion, because he was in a good mood, and Luke--looking at him, happy, laughing, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Luke--Luke just--
He just couldn’t.
And now, another week had slipped by. Murray wanted to admit him. And Luke? Luke didn’t--
His cell phone rang, and his heart sank.
A text from Reid.
I ran into Murray. WTF? We need to talk.
************************************
Reid had been having a relatively good day. He’d had a surgery first thing that was not only interesting but that had gone really well, a minimal amount of interaction with Gretchen, and his new assistant had gone ahead and done most of his weekly paperwork, leaving him only to review and sign where the stickies told him.
Yup, he’d been having a pretty good day. Until he’d run into Murray in the hall.
Reid had never much cared for Murray who was, if you asked him, way too cheerful, especially in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or late at night. But he was a damn good nephrologist, and he knew Luke liked Murray so, for Luke’s sake, Reid always tried extra-hard not to be too uncivil.
“Reid!” exclaimed Murray, overly cheerful, his balding head shining under the lights. Reid squinted at the glare. “Good to see you. I haven’t heard from Luke--I was hoping to finalize the paperwork to admit him tomorrow, but I’ve had a hard time getting a hold of him--”
Reid’s mind was reeling, but he managed to pull himself together to say, “That’s fine, he’ll be ready. You’re admitting him tomorrow?”
“Yes, it’s already been too long, and he’s gotten so anemic--hasn’t he spoken to you?” Murray paused, hesitating; Oakdale was teeny tiny, and in a town where everyone knew everything and everyone, the doctors at Memorial always had to be hyper-vigilant about ensuring confidentiality.
Not, of course, that it mattered.
Meanwhile, Reid was kicking himself. He was a doctor. He was a doctor, damn it, and how could he have missed the signs? Luke had been tired, he’d been claiming exhaustion and falling asleep every evening before Reid could even try for sex, skipping dinner or saying he’d already eaten, and he’d been pale. When Reid had asked, Luke had just used work as an excuse, but--
“Of course he has,” Reid lied smoothly. “You know Luke and I don’t keep secrets.” Reid knew he lied well. Not that he liked lying. Or had much use for it, usually. Still, he always felt if he was going to do anything, he might as well do it well. More importantly, in a little while and if he had anything to say about it--and he most certainly did--it wouldn’t be a lie, so it wouldn’t matter. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course, of course, we’ll talk later.” Murray waved him off genially, but Reid was already striding off, cell phone in one hand, typing out a text with the other, and plotting his route home.
Luke was sitting on the couch when he got home. When Reid entered, he startled, and swallowed, and said, “I don’t want to fight about this.” Looking at him, Reid could see all the signs--he was pale, and his face was slightly swollen; his expression was composed but his eyes glittered. He looked scared.
Reid’s heart ached for him, but he ignored it, asking in a calm, drawling voice, “Have you packed a bag for the hospital?”
“No, but--” Luke blinked in surprise, clearly expecting anger, but Reid cut him off.
“Then we’re going to fight about this.” His voice remained calm, his tone mild but firm. Luke looked like he was going to shatter. Reid crossed the room and crouched down in front of Luke, putting a gentle hand against Luke’s cheek. “Why didn’t you say something? I should have noticed, but Luke--”
Luke’s eyes grew shinier; the tears threatened to spill. “I’m sorry, I -- “
Reid leaned forward and kissed him, swallowing the unnecessary apology. “You don’t need to apologize, as long as you never do this again. You need to be honest with me, Luke, about whatever’s going on with you. This affects me too, all right?”
“You were so busy, and--” Luke began, but Reid interrupted once again.
“Newsflash, Mr. Snyder--I am a neurosurgeon, one of the best in the world. I’m always busy. That’s not an excuse.” Luke looked even more miserable but stayed silent, and he didn’t even crack a smile at the (not unfounded) boast. He was looking anywhere but at Reid. Watching him, Reid rose and sat beside him on the couch, pulling him into his arms. Luke resisted for a moment, but once in Reid’s arms, started crying helplessly. Reid just held him, stroking his back.
Reid didn’t whisper platitudes or offer reassurances or make false promises. In his view, those never helped. Instead, he provided facts: “I will help you.” “I will go with you.” “We’re in this together.”
“I love you.”
****************
Now sort of drabble series; if you're interested, part two is here.