Thank You
Title: Thank You
Author: Amber
Notes: Next entry in my "Vignettes" series. The others are: Denial, Acceptance, and Release, No More Talking, and Revelation.
This series is primarily told in Luke's voice, except for Revelation and this chapter, "Thank You", which is told in Reid's voice. This chapter was deeply personal for me, and very difficult to write. I hope you enjoy my efforts.
Rating: R
"I don't even know where to start. I've never told anyone this before. I have this image of myself as the world's best neurosurgeon, and if I tell you who I used to be, I -" my voice breaks, slightly.
His lips are feather light against my cheek. "It's gonna be okay," he whispers.
His words come back to me - I love you for your feelings - and I grin, and start over.
"I guess I'll still be the same person, just exposed. To you. I think I can live with that. My parents died in a car accident when I was five. Even at five, I was a smartass. I pestered my uncle until he got the exact cause of death from the doctors. I wrote down the phrasing and looked it up, in the middle of the night.
"My uncle, Angus, left me alone then. He knew I had to grieve. But after life settled down and I moved in with him, his drinking got out of control. He always liked to drink, but I had never been exposed to it on a daily basis. He had so many regrets in his life, and he took them all out on me. I remember when my favorite library reopened after a two year closure. I ran to the garage to tell him. I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. He looked at me for a moment, lost in a drunken haze, and said flatly, 'Fuck you.' After that, I knew -"
Luke's body tenses. "How old were you?" he asks softly.
"Ten." I answer. "I was ten years old. After that, I just shut down. I didn't tell him anything about my life. I studied medicine in secret, with the door closed. But he could see me retreating, so he thought of one more thing to try and - make us a family. He entered me in chess competitions." My wry tone belies my feelings, but I feel Luke's gentle presence against my chest.
"I hated them, but I did it anyway. What could I do? I played, and I was awful at first. He played with me once, and then entered me in competitions. After the 10th time I lost, he pulled me out of the match, into a backroom. He held my knight in his hand. He pressed into my palm, making sure the hard edges dug in. He told me that this is what failure feels like, that it always leaves a mark. I nodded, defiantly, and I never lost another match. But when I turned 18, I went to Harvard, and never looked back. I haven't seen him in years."
I finish my narrative, and pull back to gauge his reaction.
His eyes are sincere, as he reaches for my cheek.
"You told me what your childhood was like," he offers. "But how did it make you feel? Your parents died, and you were left with an alcoholic uncle who forced you to play chess. You just gave me a logical version of what happened. But what did it mean to you, Reid? Aren't you angry? Sad? Disappointed? What?"
His thumb brushes the tears off my cheek, and I want to shrink away.
I close my eyes, and reply, "What do you think? He was unpredictable, chaotic. When he was sober, he would shower me with attention and love. But the minute he got a little buzzed, he became a different person. The insults would come out, exactly the opposite of what he'd said hours earlier. He looked at a young, scared little boy, and treated him like shit. Angry? Luke, I'm fucking furious!"
I get up, and march to the opposite side of the room. I begin pacing, my breath comes faster and faster.
"I hate that bastard for stealing my childhood from me. Do you know how long it's been since I was truly happy? The day I got into medical school, and I shut my eyes and I grinned like a child. I danced in my dorm room; my room mate thought I'd gone insane. He was so used to seeing the gruff exterior. The next time I was that happy, was after I kissed you for the first time.
"Do you know what it's like to go through life terrified of every criticism? To flinch at the slightest sign of anger? I had to teach myself how to cope, how to become hard, and aloof, and cold. I did pretty damn well, don't you think? Thanks to my dear uncle Angus, I don't trust any petty emotions like love. I learned the hard way that I can't trust anyone, because they're just going to disappoint me."
I exhale loudly, and stare at him, eyes blazing.
"I trusted you, and look what happened." I continue. "You ran, than you came back. I don't even know. Just let me -"
He approaches slowly, and takes my hand.
"You really think you'd tell me about your crappy past, and I'd what, bail?" he says, matter of fact. "I'm in this for the long haul, Reid."
Before I can say anything, he's pulling me toward the bathroom.
He turns on the water, and waits as the water heats up.
"What -" I murmur.
Luke says nothing. He just steps into the shower. I watch as the water darkens his hair, douses his skin. Steam rises from the water.
"I assume you like it hot," he says huskily.
"Well, obviously." I answer. I step into the shower, and he kisses me, long and deep.
"I'm not leaving," he says. He grabs the soap and works it into a lather. His hands coat my chest, as he slowly languishes soap on my body.
"I know," I say.
His hands move lower, and he strokes my thighs with strong, brisk motions.
"Farm hands, Snyder?" I grunt.
"I haven't heard any complaints." he replies, wryly.
I answer him with a demanding kiss. His tongue works its way in my mouth. His hands never stop moving.
I walk him towards the wall, and finger his chest hair slowly.
"Tell me again," I demand.
"I'm not leaving," he says obediently.
I shake my head, and stroke his hair with my free hand.
"No," I whisper. "The other thing."
The water blurs my vision, but I see his eyes dawn with understanding.
"I love you, Reid Oliver." he says firmly.
I meet his mouth once again, probing with my tongue.
But instead of passion, I'm trembling.
I can feel the damn tears. I try to hold them off, but I know he feels them too.
He gently breaks our kiss.
"It's okay to cry," he says.
"Fuck crying," I answer, angry. "Fuck all of it." Even though it's Luke, I'm embarrassed.
Luke grabs my wrist, and holds my hand. His fingers grip my palm, almost tight enough to hurt. I suck in a breath, and find his gaze to be tender.
"Don't do that," he murmurs. "You can be the big arrogant jerk to the rest of the world, but here, with me, you can cry all you want. Or not. I don't give a damn. I just want to know all of you."
I feel a weight lifting off my chest, and nod in acknowledgment.
I pick up the soap, and hand it to him.
"Let's get clean." I say hoarsely.
Luke takes the soap, and lathers up his hands. He reaches for my shoulders, but I stop him. I stare intently into his eyes.
"Luke," I murmur. I hold his soapy hands with both of mine. My jaw clenches, as I watch him.
"It's okay," he reassures me. "I don't want any -"
I silence him with a kiss, lapping at his lower lip tenderly.
I exhale, keeping my mouth inches from his. I breathe in his air, slowly regaining my sense of calm.
"Thank you."
Author: Amber
Notes: Next entry in my "Vignettes" series. The others are: Denial, Acceptance, and Release, No More Talking, and Revelation.
This series is primarily told in Luke's voice, except for Revelation and this chapter, "Thank You", which is told in Reid's voice. This chapter was deeply personal for me, and very difficult to write. I hope you enjoy my efforts.
Rating: R
"I don't even know where to start. I've never told anyone this before. I have this image of myself as the world's best neurosurgeon, and if I tell you who I used to be, I -" my voice breaks, slightly.
His lips are feather light against my cheek. "It's gonna be okay," he whispers.
His words come back to me - I love you for your feelings - and I grin, and start over.
"I guess I'll still be the same person, just exposed. To you. I think I can live with that. My parents died in a car accident when I was five. Even at five, I was a smartass. I pestered my uncle until he got the exact cause of death from the doctors. I wrote down the phrasing and looked it up, in the middle of the night.
"My uncle, Angus, left me alone then. He knew I had to grieve. But after life settled down and I moved in with him, his drinking got out of control. He always liked to drink, but I had never been exposed to it on a daily basis. He had so many regrets in his life, and he took them all out on me. I remember when my favorite library reopened after a two year closure. I ran to the garage to tell him. I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. He looked at me for a moment, lost in a drunken haze, and said flatly, 'Fuck you.' After that, I knew -"
Luke's body tenses. "How old were you?" he asks softly.
"Ten." I answer. "I was ten years old. After that, I just shut down. I didn't tell him anything about my life. I studied medicine in secret, with the door closed. But he could see me retreating, so he thought of one more thing to try and - make us a family. He entered me in chess competitions." My wry tone belies my feelings, but I feel Luke's gentle presence against my chest.
"I hated them, but I did it anyway. What could I do? I played, and I was awful at first. He played with me once, and then entered me in competitions. After the 10th time I lost, he pulled me out of the match, into a backroom. He held my knight in his hand. He pressed into my palm, making sure the hard edges dug in. He told me that this is what failure feels like, that it always leaves a mark. I nodded, defiantly, and I never lost another match. But when I turned 18, I went to Harvard, and never looked back. I haven't seen him in years."
I finish my narrative, and pull back to gauge his reaction.
His eyes are sincere, as he reaches for my cheek.
"You told me what your childhood was like," he offers. "But how did it make you feel? Your parents died, and you were left with an alcoholic uncle who forced you to play chess. You just gave me a logical version of what happened. But what did it mean to you, Reid? Aren't you angry? Sad? Disappointed? What?"
His thumb brushes the tears off my cheek, and I want to shrink away.
I close my eyes, and reply, "What do you think? He was unpredictable, chaotic. When he was sober, he would shower me with attention and love. But the minute he got a little buzzed, he became a different person. The insults would come out, exactly the opposite of what he'd said hours earlier. He looked at a young, scared little boy, and treated him like shit. Angry? Luke, I'm fucking furious!"
I get up, and march to the opposite side of the room. I begin pacing, my breath comes faster and faster.
"I hate that bastard for stealing my childhood from me. Do you know how long it's been since I was truly happy? The day I got into medical school, and I shut my eyes and I grinned like a child. I danced in my dorm room; my room mate thought I'd gone insane. He was so used to seeing the gruff exterior. The next time I was that happy, was after I kissed you for the first time.
"Do you know what it's like to go through life terrified of every criticism? To flinch at the slightest sign of anger? I had to teach myself how to cope, how to become hard, and aloof, and cold. I did pretty damn well, don't you think? Thanks to my dear uncle Angus, I don't trust any petty emotions like love. I learned the hard way that I can't trust anyone, because they're just going to disappoint me."
I exhale loudly, and stare at him, eyes blazing.
"I trusted you, and look what happened." I continue. "You ran, than you came back. I don't even know. Just let me -"
He approaches slowly, and takes my hand.
"You really think you'd tell me about your crappy past, and I'd what, bail?" he says, matter of fact. "I'm in this for the long haul, Reid."
Before I can say anything, he's pulling me toward the bathroom.
He turns on the water, and waits as the water heats up.
"What -" I murmur.
Luke says nothing. He just steps into the shower. I watch as the water darkens his hair, douses his skin. Steam rises from the water.
"I assume you like it hot," he says huskily.
"Well, obviously." I answer. I step into the shower, and he kisses me, long and deep.
"I'm not leaving," he says. He grabs the soap and works it into a lather. His hands coat my chest, as he slowly languishes soap on my body.
"I know," I say.
His hands move lower, and he strokes my thighs with strong, brisk motions.
"Farm hands, Snyder?" I grunt.
"I haven't heard any complaints." he replies, wryly.
I answer him with a demanding kiss. His tongue works its way in my mouth. His hands never stop moving.
I walk him towards the wall, and finger his chest hair slowly.
"Tell me again," I demand.
"I'm not leaving," he says obediently.
I shake my head, and stroke his hair with my free hand.
"No," I whisper. "The other thing."
The water blurs my vision, but I see his eyes dawn with understanding.
"I love you, Reid Oliver." he says firmly.
I meet his mouth once again, probing with my tongue.
But instead of passion, I'm trembling.
I can feel the damn tears. I try to hold them off, but I know he feels them too.
He gently breaks our kiss.
"It's okay to cry," he says.
"Fuck crying," I answer, angry. "Fuck all of it." Even though it's Luke, I'm embarrassed.
Luke grabs my wrist, and holds my hand. His fingers grip my palm, almost tight enough to hurt. I suck in a breath, and find his gaze to be tender.
"Don't do that," he murmurs. "You can be the big arrogant jerk to the rest of the world, but here, with me, you can cry all you want. Or not. I don't give a damn. I just want to know all of you."
I feel a weight lifting off my chest, and nod in acknowledgment.
I pick up the soap, and hand it to him.
"Let's get clean." I say hoarsely.
Luke takes the soap, and lathers up his hands. He reaches for my shoulders, but I stop him. I stare intently into his eyes.
"Luke," I murmur. I hold his soapy hands with both of mine. My jaw clenches, as I watch him.
"It's okay," he reassures me. "I don't want any -"
I silence him with a kiss, lapping at his lower lip tenderly.
I exhale, keeping my mouth inches from his. I breathe in his air, slowly regaining my sense of calm.
"Thank you."