Touch, Parts 1-2
Title: Touch, Parts 1-2
Written By: teranee
Category: General
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Lame title, I know, but I ran out of creativity. This thing is freaking long! Anyhoo, Reid gets injured and doesn’t use it as an excuse to emotionally torture Luke. Shocking. Totally TWT - I was gonna make it post-Reid-comes-back-from-the-dead (it totally happens - remember the shrunken head in a box?), but it didn’t quite work, so instead I just slipped in a little “it was a dream” reference, cos I’m physically incapable of not correcting the ending that never happened.
I’ve quoted a bunch of dialogue straight from the show, so yeah, like the characters etc, that’s not mine. You’ll be able to tell what it is cos it’s in italics and contains Noah douching it up.
Also, just so you know, I know nothing about medicine. I made some stuff up, k? I doubt it’s less accurate than the show, though.
PART 1
The dull ache between his eyes has been getting stronger, louder inside his skull since the start of the phone call. It's not that Noah's said or done anything particularly headache worthy, Luke's sure - it's just that he's a little stressed and a lot tired. And that's no-one's fault, it's just how things are at the moment. With the stuff going down at work, and Reid being injured a little less than a month ago - Noah's just offering his advice and support, and Luke's being a little rude in not paying enough attention it, that's all. He should be grateful that Noah still wants to talk to him, to be his friend, after everything that's happened in the last year or so, and especially the confrontation with Reid at Java, and the awkward, hugless goodbye at Noah's going away party.
"Luke, I'm just saying, you need to be careful. You have this tendency to always try to help people, and guys like Reid..."
"You don't know him like I do Noah."
"But I know you, Luke, and I know his type," Noah responds.
Luke pinches the bridge of his nose and presses his thumb and finger against his eyes, shut tight against the throbbing. It doesn't bother Reid in the slightest that Noah still pretty much hates his guts, that he glares fiery daggers at him across the Christmas dinner table, and holds himself different so he towers a few inches taller whenever he's around. But it bothers Luke. He reminds himself that it's all coming from a place of caring, that Noah cares about him, doesn't want him to get hurt, that Noah is still hurting and in need of a little understanding. Sometimes it's a little tricky.
"Look, Noah-"
"I know, I know," Noah interrupts, dismissively, "you think he's some nice, sweet guy who's gonna take care of you, but I still worry about you." Luke frowns. It's pretty clear from every part of that sentence that Noah really doesn't know, at all. But his head is pounding and Noah's still talking so he lets it be.
"I know you do," he says instead.
"Look, I'm telling you this because I care about you, because even if we're not together right now, I want you to be happy, okay? Dr. Oliver's not the sort of guy to need people, and he's not going to appreciate your help so much, so just please, for your sake, try not to be too controlling."
Luke blinks rapidly a few times while he processes all that. "What does that mean?"
"I know you Luke, probably better than anyone, and sometimes when you want to help you can be a little...domineering. And Reid doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd appreciate being coddled."
"That's...true." It is. Reid got pretty pissed off when Luke rearranged his schedule with his secretary behind his back because he thought he was working too hard back in the spring. Though on the plus side, that conversation did end in a heated make-out session in the on-call room at the hospital - before they were cruelly interrupted by an emergency page. Reid even took two days off in the next week for them to do something together. (They only left Reid's bedroom for water and sustenance, and to take the occasional shared shower).
Still, it is true. It's true and Luke's head hurts and he's tired, so maybe he's not thinking as straight as he should be. It's something he should bear in mind for the final weeks of Reid's recovery.
"I know you love him Luke, believe me, I know...." Luke can practically hear the roll of his eyes. "...But sometimes, the way you love, it can be a little....suffocating. And I don't think a guy like Reid would appreciate that."
"Noah-"
"Fine. It's your life Luke, you do whatever you want. You always do," Noah snaps.
Luke sighs and rubs tiredly at his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that," he mumbles. He apologises a little more, and five minutes later they hang up on reasonably friendly terms. Luke stares up into the empty air above him, and the blank white ceiling above that, and thinks. About fire and skin and love and headaches. About the last month of his life...
*****
Reid wakes up in his own bed nearly a week after coming out of hospital. The world is tinted purple for a few minutes while his mind crawls out of the white noise of sleep, drowning out everything except the blood that's whirring behind his ears.
Luke's breathing is quiet and shallow, and his lips are just parted, releasing a sound that's too soft to be a snore, but too rough for regular breathing. Whatever it is, it's reassuring. He's woken up to this, to Luke, nearly every day for several months now, and something inside of him still jars and shakes and grips with the warmest, sweetest terror every single time. Luke's mussed up hair is crinkled against the pillow and he unconsciously nuzzles his cheek into the smooth fabric, all the while with this tiny, impossibly sweet little smile just curving at the corners of his lips.
One of Luke's warm, strong hands has found its way inside Reid's shirt, just resting against his stomach, pressing comfortingly into his skin. His thumb is swirling in tiny, light circles that tickle at the thin trail of hair underneath it, and it sets of a ripple of goosebumps across his body. It's a tiny, silly little thing, but lying here, like this, it kind of means the whole world and a few extra planets on the side. A year and a half ago, that thought would've made him cringe. It still does, a little, but it's just part of the package of getting to feel like his soul's on fire, so it's a side effect he's learning to deal with.
And a lot can happen in a year and a half. Since then he's willingly attended family gatherings with the Snyders, and even the Hughes. He's picked out Christmas presents (he grunted "yes" and "no" and "are you trying to turn your sister into a hooker?" while Luke held up the different options from his shortlist, so that counts) and, heck, he even openly admits to himself and others that he's in a...relationship.
Luke's been letting his hair grow out since his birthday a couple of months ago, so now it's about the length it was when Reid first met him. Reid doesn't really give a shit what Luke does with it; it's Luke's hair after all; but he loves the feel of it running between his fingers, the way it falls across his face, especially when it's wet, and the fact that it's a dead giveaway when they come back from a covert make out session in the middle of a Snyder family gathering, and even Grandma Emma knows exactly what they've been doing, so that's a plus.
Right now though, there's a lock of hair that's flopped down across Luke's eyes, and his nose is scrunching up and they're starting to blink open, which really messes with Reid's plans to stare at him like some sentimental dope for the next half hour.
Reid reaches out to brush the hair back, clumsily dragging his bandaged hand backwards across Luke's scalp. Luke starts to shift under the covers and the hand on Reid's stomach slides round, tucking itself securely round his side. He freezes, hovering above Luke's cheek. Luke sighs and blinks open his eyes, and Reid's more than a bit pissed off with himself for waking him when there's no way he's had nearly enough sleep this week, between rush hour at the Foundation, Lily and Holden's weekend babysitting crisis and Reid's new career as a cripple.
The burns are healing well, he knows, the new skin taking better than they could've expected, and while he can't do anything to flex or stretch the site of the injury just yet, it's looking like everything's still in working order. He's in with a chance of escaping this with no permanent damage. That's the positive side. But he's still got a couple more weeks encased in layers of gauze and bandages, and then a few weeks after that in specially designed gloves and occupational therapy, and until all that's over there's no way of knowing that his entire career hasn't just gone up in the smoke and fire and madness of Oakdale's latest psychopath.
Ten days ago, a nurse with a psychotic crush on Luke tried to blow up Reid's neurology wing and take Reid with it. If he didn't have the injuries to prove it, there's no way he'd believe it really happened. Then again. Reid tries not to analyse the ridiculousness of that too much because, worryingly, it's not the stupidest thing to happen to him since he arrived in Oakdale. The guy did a poor job of setting up the explosives though, and Reid would've been fine if some bizarre anti-Darwinian instinct hadn't sent him back into a burning room trying to save the idiot's life. He may have succeeded, but his body took a few hits in the process, the worst of which are burned into his palms and his wrists and the sides of his fingers and the backs of his hands.
It's like living in a pair of mittens, with the bandages, and he couldn't use his hands at the moment even if they weren't all tied up. He can't button his own clothes or cut up his own food and he absolutely, definitely can't operate on patients. Then there's the pain when he tries to move them too much, or puts any pressure on them. And that at least reminds him how much his nerves and his circulation is working just fine, so that's something.
But none of that means anything next to the raw panic of being so entirely helpless. His hands, trained to perform the subtle manipulations of complex microsurgeries; he's held the leaking matter of human consciousness in his finger tips and sewn it back together again. Through his manual dexterity he's restored sight and motor skills and life and speech and hope and there's few people, if any, on the face of the planet with the power to do all that as well as he does.
And right now he can barely operate a toothbrush.
Luke's been helping him out a lot. He's pretty much set up camp at his and Katie's place for the time being. Apparently Reid's near death experience left them both feeling a little uncomfortable with the prospect of spending a night apart. Although thinking about it, Reid can't actually remember the last night he and Luke weren't sharing a bed, even if just for a few hours between the end of Luke's work hours and the start of Reid's.
If he thinks about it logically, and he always does, then they're practically living together; they just...haven't got around to the details yet. He knows Luke's thought about it though, at least sporadically, because every now and then there's a slip of the tongue and he's talking about "our place" instead of "your place", and Reid's response is a raised eyebrow, and he's not really sure whether Luke's hinting at co-habiting, or if he's just that sweet and innocent, at least in this one respect. He supposes it should feel like a bigger step, really, in his mind, because he'd be moving out of the first place in his life that he's ever really thought of as Home, with a capital H. But lately...lately, he's been realising that in his mind, home is spelled with an entirely different letter.
Luke yawns loudly, and the muscles of his torso flex and twist under his t-shirt as he stretches out the weight and kinks of sleep, and Reid takes a moment to enjoy the sight, while the arm around his middle holds him a little firmer, and he feels that warm press of digits massaging against his side, instinctive, lazy in half consciousness.
There's a loud rumbling sound from Reid's stomach, and Luke groans as he flops back down onto his front, burrowing his face into the pillow.
I'm hungry," Reid murmurs, unnecessarily.
"You're always hungry." Luke's words are muffled, vibrating quietly into the bedding.
"You always say that," he shoots back.
Luke turns his head to the side, snorting quietly. "'s cos it's always true."
He lifts his hand, smoothing over the creases in Reid's t-shirt, and Reid gets a glimpse of the growing bags under his tired eyes, still half out of focus in the haze of sleep. He can't argue with that, though, so he lets himself sink deeper into the lazy comfort on the warm bed. It's a giant thing, the bed; they could probably fit most of Luke's extended family in it and still have room for a couple of interlopers. It's pretty good for the nights when Luke's feeling restless and impatient, and he moves around a lot, turning from his back to his sides to his front and back again, stretching out his arms and legs and all kinds of acrobatics that would be totally annoying if Reid didn't sleep like a petrified log. But right now they're coiled together in the centre of the massive expanse, and that's a pretty awesome way to wake up, mummified hands and all.
His stomach grouches again and he rubs the unbandaged part of his wrist over his eyes to try and persuade them to be as awake as his digestive system.
"Breakfast..." he mutters, rolling sideways. He hauls himself to his feet and stumbles into the bathroom. The door's being kept ajar so he can get in and out without complications. So long as he doesn't wear difficult clothing, he can handle the rest by himself. Small victories.
When he's done with that, he pads his way into the kitchen to find Luke already at the counter pouring Coco Puffs into two large bowls.
"I thought you wanted to sleep?" he says, accusingly.
Luke shrugs. "Changed my mind."
Reid eyes him suspiciously. He knows Luke's been getting less sleep than he needs, and he knows why too. "I can pour my own cereal you know," he grumbles, but accepts the spoon he's offered, and slots it carefully between his wrapped up fingers so that it just about balances, and starts to eat.
*****
"Please Luke, don't tell me that I'm the same Noah you fell in love with, because I'm not. I know I'm not, and you know what? That is what matters most."
"Noah, you can't really believe that my feelings have changed for you just because you can't see."
"I know things have changed for me."
"What does that mean? Does that mean...that your feelings for me have changed?"
*****
Reid was a nightmare to be around for the first week out of hospital, and they both knew it, too, all hurt and frustration and pissed-offness, complaining and grousing and being waaay meaner than necessary. About each new thing he couldn't do, everything that hurt, everything that's banned by his occupational therapist; about the ineptness of the criminal justice system; about how Bob Hughes wove his influence at the hospital to keep him away and keep him from doing even the little bit of work he's still capable of.
Luke counts it as a victory because at least he's not bottling anything up and hey, the Oakdale PD really should have been able to spot a wanted psychopath wandering around town disguised with nothing but dyed hair and a bit of stubble. But they didn't, and Reid could have died.
Reid could have died.
In the midst of the arguing though, Reid found the time to make it unequivocally clear that he in no way, shape or form, convoluted or otherwise, blames Luke even slightly for what happened. He slipped one bandaged hand under Luke's chin and fiercely held his gaze and wouldn't let it drop until Luke capitulated. Promised not to blame himself, to even consider the possibility, because he didn't lay any explosives and Reid's a genius so of course he's right. And he pretty much meant his promise, too.
"The man was a lunatic. If it wasn't me he'd have tried to blow up someone else, and they wouldn't have been in a hospital with access to immediate medical care." Luke flinched at the bluntness, but his body was still shaking, tense and a little wrecked from three days of crying both happy and sad and rollercoaster emotions to boot.
"But I'm the reason that-"
"Shut up. You're not. Don't even try to pin this on you. You met the guy twice. You didn't make him crazy and you definitely aren't responsible for his actions. It's not your fault Snyder. Get over it." That's the final word on the matter as far as Reid's concerned. He sort of stomped around while he said it, and if Luke didn't know him so completely, he'd think Reid was angry at him.
But he does know him, and he's noticed that, despite everything, the hurting and the frustration and the fears, and the hours and hours of foul moods and angry words, virtually none of it has been directed at him. There's been the odd moment. When his sarcasm's come out a little sharper and meaner than either of them was expecting, and maybe Luke's shot something back when it got to be too much. A door got slammed once and there's definitely been raised voices, a little passive aggression here and there. But for the most part, it's no different from their normal relationship. Sometimes Reid is an ass, but Luke can take it, he knows where it's coming from and what it really means and he'll always, always forgive it; and sometimes Luke gets hot tempered, or overreacts about shit that didn't mean that much, after all, but Reid deals with it and Luke knows for a fact that Reid loves how passionate he is.
Fights can't be helped though, sometimes. They're both more on edge than usual and the emotions that Reid still sometimes pretends he doesn't have are running closer to the surface than he can handle, while Luke's are fraying at the edges and wearing far, far too thin.
A week after the explosion, and four days out of hospital, Reid hadn't said a word about how he was feeling, other than "hungry" or "sleepy". It was all starting to feel a bit too arctic winter, cold and dark and lonely, and Luke had been trying to find a way to coax something out of him, but Reid was playing dumb. It wasn't at all convincing but it was pretty damn effective, and they'd had a week of distance and stilted conversation and evasive comments and Luke was tired and worried and missing Reid like hell.
He sighed as he dropped into a chair at the kitchen table next to Reid, who was trying to work out how to eat the dinner that Katie'd made for him earlier.
"Are you okay?" he said, boldly. Reid looked up at him and frowned slightly through his otherwise blank expression and Luke's insides were screaming at how not-right it is, seeing Reid like that. "Right, stupid question. Umm...how are you feeling? Scared? Upset? Are you...how are you?"
"I'm trying to eat my dinner," Reid said, like he really couldn't care less. "It's not going very well." He glared at the bowl some more and finally shoved it away from him.
"Well," Luke said, tapping his fingers on the table edge, "how about we head over to my Mom and Dad's? They're having a family dinner tonight and we're invited."
Reid slid his chair back and started to get up. "I think I'll pass."
He didn't even look at Luke as he walked away, and if Luke had been less tired and achy and upset he'd have realised why. But he wasn't, and all those tired, achy, upset parts of him turned to anger before Reid was half way across the room. He jumped quickly to his feet. "Why not?" He demanded.
Reid sighed, overly-casual, and turned around. "You know, it is possible to go more than a couple of days without running over to Mommy and Daddy's house for dinner."
"Hey, I want to go. But you clearly don't." Luke folded his arms.
"Hmm...what gave it away?" Reid said, rolling his eyes.
"God. I can't believe I was actually worried about your feelings. You clearly don't give a damn about mine."
"Not when you're acting like a child."
Luke scoffed, shaking his head in this harsh, jerky action and rolling his lips back angrily. "You are unbelievable, you know that?!"
Reid finally turned round fully to square up to him, staring back at him across the living room and still with no emotion on his face. "Oh what, you're mad at me because I don't want to spend the evening playing happy families?"
"No, I'm mad at you because you're being a jerk."
"Newsflash Luciano, I am a jerk," he said, emphatically.
Luke shook his head again, but sadly, because the feelings welling up inside him were starting to burn. "No you're not. Not like this. You're hurting because of your hands and you're taking it out on me and you know what, I can't deal with it anymore." Luke took two steps towards the door.
"Fine, run on home to Mommy because things get too tough here."
"Hey, I'm not the one acting like a child. The second things get difficult you start pushing me away and lashing out at me."
"Oh, sorry, am I offending your delicate sensibilities?"
"Cut it out, Reid. That's exactly what I mean. You can't even be real for one second. What are you, afraid I'm going to think you're not as tough as you want me to think you are? Here's another newsflash for you Dr. Oliver, I already know!"
Reid lowered his tone, dangerously. "I don't need you to psychoanalyze me."
"Then talk to me for five seconds instead of avoiding me," Luke almost shouted, almost pleading.
"Will you just stop pushing?"
"Will you just stop being so cold all the time?!"
That's about the point when they both ran out of breath. They'd started moving closer to each other without even realising it, and even though they'd been in the middle of a pretty vicious fight, it felt a lot better than being far away.
They stared at each other in almost silence for a really, really long time. Until Reid dropped his head and pressed it into the padded heel of one hand and groaned.
"This is stupid," he'd said. It made Luke smile, somehow.
"Yeah, it is. Let's stop."
"Good idea." Reid looked like he was about to smile, but he didn't manage it. "Err...about what I said, all of it, I'm...sorry."
Luke held up his palm, waving away the apology. "No, you were right before - I'm being pushy."
Reid's eyes shot up to meet his. "I shouldn't have said that, Luke," he said instantly.
"It's okay, you're hurt, it's understandable."
"Maybe," he agreed, "but I was still a jackass." Luke smiled sadly, dropped his gaze for a moment and swallowed hard on the confusing lumping in his throat. "Let's just..." he gestured at the couch, like it might really help them.
"Yeah," Luke nodded, and they dropped together onto the couch, automatically moving closer to each other, a deeply honed instinct, comforting, safe. "This sucks," he said, and finally felt Reid smiling into his hair, snorting softly and sending hot breath rippling against his scalp and thawing some of the aching in between them. His laughter set Luke's body shaking too, and maybe, maybe, a few more weeks of this wouldn't be such an evil impossible thing to live through after all.
PART 2
*****
Reid concentrates hard on eating his cereal without spilling too much on the counter top. He's not looking, but he can tell that Luke keeps glancing his way, that he's itching to take the spoon out of his hand as it trembles in his weedy grip, dripping milk back into the bowl and over the sides.
Since the blow out a few days ago, he's tried to keep his calm. He's thrown the odd bundled t-shirt and kicked open doors too hard and whined obnoxiously about having Doogie Hughes taking over his duties at the Hospital. He's shouted about a lot of shit, but he's made a point not to shout at Luke again. He knows Luke's generally tough, that he's taken a lot and hardly lets any of it get to him. But Reid's supposed to be the one he can trust, when the rest of the world is made of ice and sharp things, he's supposed to make him feel the same kinds of good and safe that Reid feels around him. He's not convinced he's got what it takes to be that for anyone, but he's never in his life wanted to do something impossible more than he does this.
He's only about halfway through his bowl when the clatter of a spoon lets him know that Luke's already finished. Not being the first to finish every meal, with time to go back for thirds, is a whole new phenomenon that Reid's still getting used to. Luke pushes the empty bowl to one side and leans forward in his stool, interlocking his fingers and resting his arms on the table.
"You know," Luke starts conversationally, "last year my Foundation donated to this organisation that supports hand amputees. They give them training to use their mouths and feet for stuff they can't do with their hands anymore." Reid grimaces, thinking of the germs, pausing with the spoon hovering a little away from his lips.
"Their feet?"
Luke grins. "Yeah. It's actually pretty amazing. Some of the funds went to pay for art supplies - they have this one programme where people learn to paint like that, with no hands. Some of the work is really beautiful."
"Really?" he asks, completely cynical.
"Yeah. You know that one in my office at Grimaldi, on the wall behind the desk?"
"The one with all the little red flower things on it?" Luke nods. "Someone painted that with their feet?"
"Pretty cool, huh?"
Reid hums thoughtfully for a second. "Kind of. It's the power of the human brain. Our minds and bodies are capable of adapting to all manner of situations to survive. With training the brain can rewire itself so that unusual functions become like second nature." He pauses, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I don't think my patients would appreciate me operating with my toes though."
Luke chuckles, pleased. "You're so brilliant, I'm sure you could make it work."
"I'm getting my hands back, this is only temporary," Reid says, because it helps to remember that.
Luke looks worried. "I know...I didn't mean...I was just saying"
"Yeah, I know," Reid says, scooping up the final bite of soggy chocolate flakes.
"Oh." Luke coughs quietly a couple of times as he lets go of the apology he'd been building on the edge of his tongue. "Good."
Luke lowers his voice and leans forward over the counter, wrapping a hand loosely over Reid's forearm. "And you know that, even if you didn't, which you will, but even if you didn't get your hands back the way they were...I'm not going anywhere."
Reid looks down at the hand on his wrist and then back up at Luke, his eyes widen a little and the corner of his lips twitches a couple of times. "I'm gonna hold you to that," he says. Luke thumbs over the soft under skin on his forearm.
"Yeah, you better."
*****
"I wish I could take this all back. And I wish there was some way that you could forgive me. But that's just not going to happen, is it?"
"I can't get past this. This. I wanna see you, Luke. I wanna see what you're wearing, if you're smiling at me; I want to see what it's like outside. I want to see the film I made...I want to see, and I can't. And I can't get past that."
*****
"You're the reason that I lost my sight."
*****
"This is all your fault, you know? I can't believe you did this to me!" Reid's voice has gone a little high pitched and Luke's just watching him with his lips curled up into a smug grin and his arms folded comfortably across his chest. "Why'd you have to schedule an emergency meeting the one night Katie's out of town? What kind of sadistic monster are you?!"
"Come on Reid, it's not that bad," he goads.
"Hank! You're making me spend the evening with Hank! What could be worse than that?"
"Hmm...I could always see if Chris is available. You guys could chat about all the things you have in common...."
Luke's got his evening writing class a couple of times a week. It takes place over the time when Reid would normally eat one of his evening meals, and that's fine when Reid can cook for himself, or hold stuff, but it's not so helpful at the moment. Still, it took about an hour of stubborn whining on his part and a promise from Katie to help out for Luke to agree to keep going while Reid's recovering.
The first night in they ate pasta and ice cream and bitched about how Doogie Hughes was never good enough for her anyway, and at least she recovered from her temporary insanity before he dragged her down the aisle. Luke came home tired and exhilarated from a class-wide debate about the virtues of post-modernism, and squished in next to them on the couch. Jacob curled up in his arms and quickly fell asleep, and the three of them watched some crappy action film together until they were falling asleep too and dragged themselves into their respective beds.
The second time round Katie gets called away unexpectedly to deal with some ex-husband or former stalker...something along those lines. She somehow persuades Henry to go in her stead. He turns up at the door looking as unimpressed as Reid feels and Luke makes them both feel more uncomfortable by calling out "Reid, your babysitter's here." And it drives Reid a little nuts that instead of annoying the hell out of him, he's actually pretty impressed at Luke's ability to taunt him quite so shamelessly.
"Hey Luke," Henry greets, smiling. His face falls when he spies Reid stretched out territorially across the couch, and he nods stiffly in his direction. "Dr. Evil." Reid fires him an exaggerated salute with one bandaged up hand, while Luke disappears out the door.
Henry cheers up considerably when he spots the pile of sci-fi DVDs Reid got a hold of for the night, and the two over-sized bowls of microwave popcorn that he's managed to pull together without dropping or spilling anything.
There's an eternity of total silence between them that doesn't bother Reid at all, but Henry makes an awkward coughing sound and glances around him, looking for inspiration.
"So...umm...you and Luke, huh?" Reid doesn't even make the effort to roll his eyes and munches on another scoop of popcorn. Henry clears his throat again. "I don't get it, you know? Luke's so nice and you're...well, you." Reid snickers, and thinks that Henry wouldn't say that if he'd ever seen Luke in bed. Then he hates himself for that mental image.
"Hank, if you're looking for gossip and a hair braiding session, you've come to the wrong place."
"This is coming out wrong. I just meant to say that Luke seems happy with you, is all."
"He is," Reid agrees, not really expecting to hear that, but he knows it's true, after all.
"...happier than he was before, even."
Reid lifts an eyebrow, intrigued by his tone. "You're not a member of the Noah Mayer fan club?"
Henry snorts, and swivels round on the couch to face him better. "Oh boy, you don't know the half of it."
Noah isn't usually his favourite topic of conversation; even after what sounds to Reid like years of bad treatment, Luke still clearly loves the jackass, even though it's thankfully not in the same way anymore. He doesn't care about anything that Noah thinks, or says, or does or ever did, but Henry's attitude is a refreshing change from the butter-wouldn't-melt mentality of the Snyder clan, and by the end of the evening Reid has at least half a dozen new reasons for thinking that Noah needs some kind of professional help for his stupidity.
Reid gets his bandages greasy eating leftovers from the diner and they watch seven episodes of the old The Prisoner series, and Henry drives him insane with thousands of "fun facts" about the show, and the actors, and the opening credits. Reid's shocked to realise he actually enjoyed himself, and the time until Luke gets back flies by like lightning.
"This doesn't make us friends, jerk face," Henry says, as Reid walks him to the door.
"Never said it did Hank." Reid smirks while Henry glares. There's a few seconds of quiet while they face off silently.
"You know," Henry says, breaking the silence, "there's a Battlestar Galactica marathon on next weekend...I could bring burgers, we could make a night of it."
Reid opens his mouth to list the thousands of reasons why that will never happen but then, Hank did offer food, so he says "I want fries. And not the slimy ones from the bottom of the vat. The good stuff."
Henry nods. "Deal."
Reid kicks the door shut when Henry leaves, and Luke comes up to him, fingering lightly at a crease in the front of his shirt. "So...did you and Henry enjoy your play date?" Reid narrows his eyes and straightens up with his arms folded across his chest.
"He fed me," he says, definitively.
"I think you guys might secretly like each other," Luke says in a low voice, "maybe I should be worried about you spending all this time alone together."
Reid shudders, deeply repulsed. "Never put that thought in my head again."
*****
"Noah, I know that this is really frustrating, but...I think it would help if you didn't take everything out on me."
"I'm just trying to be honest, Luke."
"And honest is saying that...you wanna get away from me?"
*****
Reid fumbles with his toothbrush and squishes toothpaste from the tube between his hand and the edge of the sink, shaking some of it off when far too much comes out. He sits on the edge of the bath and awkwardly positions the brush over his teeth, and starts to brush.
Luke strolls in a minute after him and settles himself by the sink. He fishes around in the cabinet and pulls out his razor and shaving cream and he's just squirted a bunch of it into his palm when the brush clatters to the floor.
"Damn it!" Reid stares angrily at the tiles, and it takes a few breaths for him to force down the giant fiery ball of humiliation and frustration that's trying to claw its way out through his chest.
Luke turns to look at him, poised with his blob of foam still in one hand, concerned but not jumping in. "Umm...do you want me to get that, or...?" Reid shakes his head and kneels down, clumsily scooping the thing into his hands before straightening up.
He frowns. "Great, now I need a new toothbrush."
"You can always borrow mine," Luke teases casually.
"Bleugh." Reid shudders. Luke starts laughing, dimples and sunlight, and turns back to the mirror as he smoothes shaving stuff over his chin, and Reid feels a little better.
"Seriously Reid, I don't get it - you'll kiss me and..." he coughs, "...other stuff, but you won't share my toothbrush." Reid raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment on Luke's perpetual bashfulness. He'll flirt like a pro, but when it comes to saying the words themselves... He's working on it though.
"It's different...all those bristles are the perfect breeding ground for bacteria." Luke shrugs. "Plus, all that "other stuff" is hot. Sharing a toothbrush is just...unhygienic."
Luke shrugs. "Suit yourself."
Reid pulls open a draw and fumbles around until he finds a fresh toothbrush and seats himself back in his former position.
Luke finishes up at the sink and turns back to face him. "Do you need me to open that for you?"
Reid hands it over. "Please." Luke expertly plies apart the awkward layers of plastic and rinses the head of the brush for a few seconds before he hands it back to Reid.
Half a minute later, Reid's back to glaring at his toothbrush. Luke looks at him, questioning. "This is...frustrating," he explains.
Luke's face softens instantly. "I'm sorry Reid, I can't imagine what this is like for you."
"You've been paralyzed before," Reid points out, rubbing his eyes clumsily with the rough fabric on the back of his hand, "you've probably got a better idea than most people." There's an odd look on Luke's face, and for once Reid can't place it. It's like he's seen something unexpected but, he thinks, good, so he'll go with it.
"I guess so. Do you want me to..." he gestures at the toothbrush. Reid groans and drops his chin to his chest, but holds the brush out to Luke.
Luke takes it and slowly lowers himself down do he's in front of Reid. He smiles in a way that's all love and no pity and tilts Reid's chin up to face him. "Say ah, Dr. Oliver."
Reid huffs and bites his lip for a second before opening his mouth. "Ah," he drones, as Luke starts to swill the brush around. "This is ridiculous. I feel like a child."
Luke sighs. "Stop talking, you're making this difficult." Reid clamps his jaw shut on the brush, smirking a little as he bites down and Luke groans, dramatically and put-out. "Besides, most kids can brush their teeth all by themselves," he adds helpfully. Reid frowns, but opens his mouth again.
"Thanks," he says, dryly as possible without moving his tongue.
Reid stares stubbornly at the corner of the room, the washbasin, the patterns on the tiles; anything to avoid focusing in his total inability to take care of himself. He feels the grip of Luke's hand on his thigh, and his warm breath on his face, and that's some comfort, but the whole thing still kinda makes him want to curl up in a ball and hide until his hands work again.
"There, you're done." Luke admires his handiwork and Reid gives an exaggeratedly toothy grin. His smile fades and Luke reaches up to stroke his chin softly, gazing at him like he's something special, and not just with a scalpel. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. When Luke pulls back he keeps his eyes closed for a second and sighs happily before looking up at Reid, far too sweet and dreamy for Reid to let it be.
He sticks his tongue between his squeaky clean teeth and wrinkles his nose unpleasantly. "Eugh. Snyder, you should really do something about that breath." Luke slaps him on the knee as he stands up, making a show of being offended while he tries not to laugh.
He pauses suddenly, and something mischievous flashes in his eyes. "I was wondering..." he starts, and there's an evil lilt to his voice, "what would you do if I put your toothbrush back in the wrong slot?"
Reid starts to get outraged, but he's secretly impressed. "Just wait until I get my hands back; I can rewire your brain to do all kinds of crazy stuff."
Luke grins at him and leans back against the sink, gripping it with his hands. "Hey, you want me to help you shave?" Standing up, Reid runs the back of his arm over the rough stubble that's getting pretty noticeable on his chin.
"Nah, I'm good. It's not like I've got anything I need to look professional for, and I know you like it."
Luke ducks his head and looks at him from under his eyelashes in a way that's far, far too sexy for anyone's own good. It's sort of inspirational.
"Come to think of it though, I could really use a shower." He looks at Luke, at the brightness exuding from him that never seems to stop, even when he's ill or tired; the almost imperceptible flush of his cheeks that means he's probably having the same thought that Reid is. "It's probably best if you help me out, you know, for the sake of my hands." Luke bites down on his bottom lip to fend off a smile and folds his arms across his chest, swaying forwards slightly.
"Well, we wouldn't want to do anything that might damage your recovery..."
"Exactly."
"So, Dr. Oliver, is it your medical opinion that I should shower with you?"
Reid takes a step closer and lets the word roll out of him, low and hot and breathy. "Absolutely." Luke's smile makes his insides melt.
Luke's slow and cautious at first, even though the only bit of Reid that's still injured is his hands. He kisses him under the water, long and slow, running his hands up and down his chest, over his shoulders, the length of his arms to the place where the plastic cover that's protecting his bandages starts just above his wrists.
He leans slowly against Reid, pressing him back onto the tiles. One arm wraps securely around his waist while the other drags the foaming washcloth over his torso. He uses that fruity shower gel that Reid absolutely hates, but somehow ends up using every day, because it smells like Luke and it keeps Reid calm in boring budget meetings and exams with moronic patients.
The water's warm, but not hot; it's enough to be comfortable, but Luke refuses to turn the temperature higher even though Reid's explained to him a thousand times that his hands are plenty well protected.
Reid hooks an arm round his neck and tugs hard so that he stumbles back against the tiles, pulling Luke's body into his. The action sets of something in Luke and he makes a noise low in his throat, and his eyes flare up with lust.
Luke fucks him against the shower wall, one arm locked around Reid's thigh, holding his leg high around his waist, the other bracing him against the tiles. And the soap and the water makes it slippery and a little precarious and Luke just holds him tighter, and it's really, scorchingly hot, and it's also fun and silly because they have to keep rearranging themselves to keep upright, but it's still a thousand kinds of safe that Reid never thought possible before he felt Luke's skin on his skin and Luke's breath on his neck. And he can't hold on, not even a little bit. And he's still learning how to be fine with just how much that's now totally okay.
Touch, Parts 3-4
Touch, Parts 5-6
Written By: teranee
Category: General
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Lame title, I know, but I ran out of creativity. This thing is freaking long! Anyhoo, Reid gets injured and doesn’t use it as an excuse to emotionally torture Luke. Shocking. Totally TWT - I was gonna make it post-Reid-comes-back-from-the-dead (it totally happens - remember the shrunken head in a box?), but it didn’t quite work, so instead I just slipped in a little “it was a dream” reference, cos I’m physically incapable of not correcting the ending that never happened.
I’ve quoted a bunch of dialogue straight from the show, so yeah, like the characters etc, that’s not mine. You’ll be able to tell what it is cos it’s in italics and contains Noah douching it up.
Also, just so you know, I know nothing about medicine. I made some stuff up, k? I doubt it’s less accurate than the show, though.
PART 1
The dull ache between his eyes has been getting stronger, louder inside his skull since the start of the phone call. It's not that Noah's said or done anything particularly headache worthy, Luke's sure - it's just that he's a little stressed and a lot tired. And that's no-one's fault, it's just how things are at the moment. With the stuff going down at work, and Reid being injured a little less than a month ago - Noah's just offering his advice and support, and Luke's being a little rude in not paying enough attention it, that's all. He should be grateful that Noah still wants to talk to him, to be his friend, after everything that's happened in the last year or so, and especially the confrontation with Reid at Java, and the awkward, hugless goodbye at Noah's going away party.
"Luke, I'm just saying, you need to be careful. You have this tendency to always try to help people, and guys like Reid..."
"You don't know him like I do Noah."
"But I know you, Luke, and I know his type," Noah responds.
Luke pinches the bridge of his nose and presses his thumb and finger against his eyes, shut tight against the throbbing. It doesn't bother Reid in the slightest that Noah still pretty much hates his guts, that he glares fiery daggers at him across the Christmas dinner table, and holds himself different so he towers a few inches taller whenever he's around. But it bothers Luke. He reminds himself that it's all coming from a place of caring, that Noah cares about him, doesn't want him to get hurt, that Noah is still hurting and in need of a little understanding. Sometimes it's a little tricky.
"Look, Noah-"
"I know, I know," Noah interrupts, dismissively, "you think he's some nice, sweet guy who's gonna take care of you, but I still worry about you." Luke frowns. It's pretty clear from every part of that sentence that Noah really doesn't know, at all. But his head is pounding and Noah's still talking so he lets it be.
"I know you do," he says instead.
"Look, I'm telling you this because I care about you, because even if we're not together right now, I want you to be happy, okay? Dr. Oliver's not the sort of guy to need people, and he's not going to appreciate your help so much, so just please, for your sake, try not to be too controlling."
Luke blinks rapidly a few times while he processes all that. "What does that mean?"
"I know you Luke, probably better than anyone, and sometimes when you want to help you can be a little...domineering. And Reid doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd appreciate being coddled."
"That's...true." It is. Reid got pretty pissed off when Luke rearranged his schedule with his secretary behind his back because he thought he was working too hard back in the spring. Though on the plus side, that conversation did end in a heated make-out session in the on-call room at the hospital - before they were cruelly interrupted by an emergency page. Reid even took two days off in the next week for them to do something together. (They only left Reid's bedroom for water and sustenance, and to take the occasional shared shower).
Still, it is true. It's true and Luke's head hurts and he's tired, so maybe he's not thinking as straight as he should be. It's something he should bear in mind for the final weeks of Reid's recovery.
"I know you love him Luke, believe me, I know...." Luke can practically hear the roll of his eyes. "...But sometimes, the way you love, it can be a little....suffocating. And I don't think a guy like Reid would appreciate that."
"Noah-"
"Fine. It's your life Luke, you do whatever you want. You always do," Noah snaps.
Luke sighs and rubs tiredly at his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that," he mumbles. He apologises a little more, and five minutes later they hang up on reasonably friendly terms. Luke stares up into the empty air above him, and the blank white ceiling above that, and thinks. About fire and skin and love and headaches. About the last month of his life...
*****
Reid wakes up in his own bed nearly a week after coming out of hospital. The world is tinted purple for a few minutes while his mind crawls out of the white noise of sleep, drowning out everything except the blood that's whirring behind his ears.
Luke's breathing is quiet and shallow, and his lips are just parted, releasing a sound that's too soft to be a snore, but too rough for regular breathing. Whatever it is, it's reassuring. He's woken up to this, to Luke, nearly every day for several months now, and something inside of him still jars and shakes and grips with the warmest, sweetest terror every single time. Luke's mussed up hair is crinkled against the pillow and he unconsciously nuzzles his cheek into the smooth fabric, all the while with this tiny, impossibly sweet little smile just curving at the corners of his lips.
One of Luke's warm, strong hands has found its way inside Reid's shirt, just resting against his stomach, pressing comfortingly into his skin. His thumb is swirling in tiny, light circles that tickle at the thin trail of hair underneath it, and it sets of a ripple of goosebumps across his body. It's a tiny, silly little thing, but lying here, like this, it kind of means the whole world and a few extra planets on the side. A year and a half ago, that thought would've made him cringe. It still does, a little, but it's just part of the package of getting to feel like his soul's on fire, so it's a side effect he's learning to deal with.
And a lot can happen in a year and a half. Since then he's willingly attended family gatherings with the Snyders, and even the Hughes. He's picked out Christmas presents (he grunted "yes" and "no" and "are you trying to turn your sister into a hooker?" while Luke held up the different options from his shortlist, so that counts) and, heck, he even openly admits to himself and others that he's in a...relationship.
Luke's been letting his hair grow out since his birthday a couple of months ago, so now it's about the length it was when Reid first met him. Reid doesn't really give a shit what Luke does with it; it's Luke's hair after all; but he loves the feel of it running between his fingers, the way it falls across his face, especially when it's wet, and the fact that it's a dead giveaway when they come back from a covert make out session in the middle of a Snyder family gathering, and even Grandma Emma knows exactly what they've been doing, so that's a plus.
Right now though, there's a lock of hair that's flopped down across Luke's eyes, and his nose is scrunching up and they're starting to blink open, which really messes with Reid's plans to stare at him like some sentimental dope for the next half hour.
Reid reaches out to brush the hair back, clumsily dragging his bandaged hand backwards across Luke's scalp. Luke starts to shift under the covers and the hand on Reid's stomach slides round, tucking itself securely round his side. He freezes, hovering above Luke's cheek. Luke sighs and blinks open his eyes, and Reid's more than a bit pissed off with himself for waking him when there's no way he's had nearly enough sleep this week, between rush hour at the Foundation, Lily and Holden's weekend babysitting crisis and Reid's new career as a cripple.
The burns are healing well, he knows, the new skin taking better than they could've expected, and while he can't do anything to flex or stretch the site of the injury just yet, it's looking like everything's still in working order. He's in with a chance of escaping this with no permanent damage. That's the positive side. But he's still got a couple more weeks encased in layers of gauze and bandages, and then a few weeks after that in specially designed gloves and occupational therapy, and until all that's over there's no way of knowing that his entire career hasn't just gone up in the smoke and fire and madness of Oakdale's latest psychopath.
Ten days ago, a nurse with a psychotic crush on Luke tried to blow up Reid's neurology wing and take Reid with it. If he didn't have the injuries to prove it, there's no way he'd believe it really happened. Then again. Reid tries not to analyse the ridiculousness of that too much because, worryingly, it's not the stupidest thing to happen to him since he arrived in Oakdale. The guy did a poor job of setting up the explosives though, and Reid would've been fine if some bizarre anti-Darwinian instinct hadn't sent him back into a burning room trying to save the idiot's life. He may have succeeded, but his body took a few hits in the process, the worst of which are burned into his palms and his wrists and the sides of his fingers and the backs of his hands.
It's like living in a pair of mittens, with the bandages, and he couldn't use his hands at the moment even if they weren't all tied up. He can't button his own clothes or cut up his own food and he absolutely, definitely can't operate on patients. Then there's the pain when he tries to move them too much, or puts any pressure on them. And that at least reminds him how much his nerves and his circulation is working just fine, so that's something.
But none of that means anything next to the raw panic of being so entirely helpless. His hands, trained to perform the subtle manipulations of complex microsurgeries; he's held the leaking matter of human consciousness in his finger tips and sewn it back together again. Through his manual dexterity he's restored sight and motor skills and life and speech and hope and there's few people, if any, on the face of the planet with the power to do all that as well as he does.
And right now he can barely operate a toothbrush.
Luke's been helping him out a lot. He's pretty much set up camp at his and Katie's place for the time being. Apparently Reid's near death experience left them both feeling a little uncomfortable with the prospect of spending a night apart. Although thinking about it, Reid can't actually remember the last night he and Luke weren't sharing a bed, even if just for a few hours between the end of Luke's work hours and the start of Reid's.
If he thinks about it logically, and he always does, then they're practically living together; they just...haven't got around to the details yet. He knows Luke's thought about it though, at least sporadically, because every now and then there's a slip of the tongue and he's talking about "our place" instead of "your place", and Reid's response is a raised eyebrow, and he's not really sure whether Luke's hinting at co-habiting, or if he's just that sweet and innocent, at least in this one respect. He supposes it should feel like a bigger step, really, in his mind, because he'd be moving out of the first place in his life that he's ever really thought of as Home, with a capital H. But lately...lately, he's been realising that in his mind, home is spelled with an entirely different letter.
Luke yawns loudly, and the muscles of his torso flex and twist under his t-shirt as he stretches out the weight and kinks of sleep, and Reid takes a moment to enjoy the sight, while the arm around his middle holds him a little firmer, and he feels that warm press of digits massaging against his side, instinctive, lazy in half consciousness.
There's a loud rumbling sound from Reid's stomach, and Luke groans as he flops back down onto his front, burrowing his face into the pillow.
I'm hungry," Reid murmurs, unnecessarily.
"You're always hungry." Luke's words are muffled, vibrating quietly into the bedding.
"You always say that," he shoots back.
Luke turns his head to the side, snorting quietly. "'s cos it's always true."
He lifts his hand, smoothing over the creases in Reid's t-shirt, and Reid gets a glimpse of the growing bags under his tired eyes, still half out of focus in the haze of sleep. He can't argue with that, though, so he lets himself sink deeper into the lazy comfort on the warm bed. It's a giant thing, the bed; they could probably fit most of Luke's extended family in it and still have room for a couple of interlopers. It's pretty good for the nights when Luke's feeling restless and impatient, and he moves around a lot, turning from his back to his sides to his front and back again, stretching out his arms and legs and all kinds of acrobatics that would be totally annoying if Reid didn't sleep like a petrified log. But right now they're coiled together in the centre of the massive expanse, and that's a pretty awesome way to wake up, mummified hands and all.
His stomach grouches again and he rubs the unbandaged part of his wrist over his eyes to try and persuade them to be as awake as his digestive system.
"Breakfast..." he mutters, rolling sideways. He hauls himself to his feet and stumbles into the bathroom. The door's being kept ajar so he can get in and out without complications. So long as he doesn't wear difficult clothing, he can handle the rest by himself. Small victories.
When he's done with that, he pads his way into the kitchen to find Luke already at the counter pouring Coco Puffs into two large bowls.
"I thought you wanted to sleep?" he says, accusingly.
Luke shrugs. "Changed my mind."
Reid eyes him suspiciously. He knows Luke's been getting less sleep than he needs, and he knows why too. "I can pour my own cereal you know," he grumbles, but accepts the spoon he's offered, and slots it carefully between his wrapped up fingers so that it just about balances, and starts to eat.
*****
"Please Luke, don't tell me that I'm the same Noah you fell in love with, because I'm not. I know I'm not, and you know what? That is what matters most."
"Noah, you can't really believe that my feelings have changed for you just because you can't see."
"I know things have changed for me."
"What does that mean? Does that mean...that your feelings for me have changed?"
*****
Reid was a nightmare to be around for the first week out of hospital, and they both knew it, too, all hurt and frustration and pissed-offness, complaining and grousing and being waaay meaner than necessary. About each new thing he couldn't do, everything that hurt, everything that's banned by his occupational therapist; about the ineptness of the criminal justice system; about how Bob Hughes wove his influence at the hospital to keep him away and keep him from doing even the little bit of work he's still capable of.
Luke counts it as a victory because at least he's not bottling anything up and hey, the Oakdale PD really should have been able to spot a wanted psychopath wandering around town disguised with nothing but dyed hair and a bit of stubble. But they didn't, and Reid could have died.
Reid could have died.
In the midst of the arguing though, Reid found the time to make it unequivocally clear that he in no way, shape or form, convoluted or otherwise, blames Luke even slightly for what happened. He slipped one bandaged hand under Luke's chin and fiercely held his gaze and wouldn't let it drop until Luke capitulated. Promised not to blame himself, to even consider the possibility, because he didn't lay any explosives and Reid's a genius so of course he's right. And he pretty much meant his promise, too.
"The man was a lunatic. If it wasn't me he'd have tried to blow up someone else, and they wouldn't have been in a hospital with access to immediate medical care." Luke flinched at the bluntness, but his body was still shaking, tense and a little wrecked from three days of crying both happy and sad and rollercoaster emotions to boot.
"But I'm the reason that-"
"Shut up. You're not. Don't even try to pin this on you. You met the guy twice. You didn't make him crazy and you definitely aren't responsible for his actions. It's not your fault Snyder. Get over it." That's the final word on the matter as far as Reid's concerned. He sort of stomped around while he said it, and if Luke didn't know him so completely, he'd think Reid was angry at him.
But he does know him, and he's noticed that, despite everything, the hurting and the frustration and the fears, and the hours and hours of foul moods and angry words, virtually none of it has been directed at him. There's been the odd moment. When his sarcasm's come out a little sharper and meaner than either of them was expecting, and maybe Luke's shot something back when it got to be too much. A door got slammed once and there's definitely been raised voices, a little passive aggression here and there. But for the most part, it's no different from their normal relationship. Sometimes Reid is an ass, but Luke can take it, he knows where it's coming from and what it really means and he'll always, always forgive it; and sometimes Luke gets hot tempered, or overreacts about shit that didn't mean that much, after all, but Reid deals with it and Luke knows for a fact that Reid loves how passionate he is.
Fights can't be helped though, sometimes. They're both more on edge than usual and the emotions that Reid still sometimes pretends he doesn't have are running closer to the surface than he can handle, while Luke's are fraying at the edges and wearing far, far too thin.
A week after the explosion, and four days out of hospital, Reid hadn't said a word about how he was feeling, other than "hungry" or "sleepy". It was all starting to feel a bit too arctic winter, cold and dark and lonely, and Luke had been trying to find a way to coax something out of him, but Reid was playing dumb. It wasn't at all convincing but it was pretty damn effective, and they'd had a week of distance and stilted conversation and evasive comments and Luke was tired and worried and missing Reid like hell.
He sighed as he dropped into a chair at the kitchen table next to Reid, who was trying to work out how to eat the dinner that Katie'd made for him earlier.
"Are you okay?" he said, boldly. Reid looked up at him and frowned slightly through his otherwise blank expression and Luke's insides were screaming at how not-right it is, seeing Reid like that. "Right, stupid question. Umm...how are you feeling? Scared? Upset? Are you...how are you?"
"I'm trying to eat my dinner," Reid said, like he really couldn't care less. "It's not going very well." He glared at the bowl some more and finally shoved it away from him.
"Well," Luke said, tapping his fingers on the table edge, "how about we head over to my Mom and Dad's? They're having a family dinner tonight and we're invited."
Reid slid his chair back and started to get up. "I think I'll pass."
He didn't even look at Luke as he walked away, and if Luke had been less tired and achy and upset he'd have realised why. But he wasn't, and all those tired, achy, upset parts of him turned to anger before Reid was half way across the room. He jumped quickly to his feet. "Why not?" He demanded.
Reid sighed, overly-casual, and turned around. "You know, it is possible to go more than a couple of days without running over to Mommy and Daddy's house for dinner."
"Hey, I want to go. But you clearly don't." Luke folded his arms.
"Hmm...what gave it away?" Reid said, rolling his eyes.
"God. I can't believe I was actually worried about your feelings. You clearly don't give a damn about mine."
"Not when you're acting like a child."
Luke scoffed, shaking his head in this harsh, jerky action and rolling his lips back angrily. "You are unbelievable, you know that?!"
Reid finally turned round fully to square up to him, staring back at him across the living room and still with no emotion on his face. "Oh what, you're mad at me because I don't want to spend the evening playing happy families?"
"No, I'm mad at you because you're being a jerk."
"Newsflash Luciano, I am a jerk," he said, emphatically.
Luke shook his head again, but sadly, because the feelings welling up inside him were starting to burn. "No you're not. Not like this. You're hurting because of your hands and you're taking it out on me and you know what, I can't deal with it anymore." Luke took two steps towards the door.
"Fine, run on home to Mommy because things get too tough here."
"Hey, I'm not the one acting like a child. The second things get difficult you start pushing me away and lashing out at me."
"Oh, sorry, am I offending your delicate sensibilities?"
"Cut it out, Reid. That's exactly what I mean. You can't even be real for one second. What are you, afraid I'm going to think you're not as tough as you want me to think you are? Here's another newsflash for you Dr. Oliver, I already know!"
Reid lowered his tone, dangerously. "I don't need you to psychoanalyze me."
"Then talk to me for five seconds instead of avoiding me," Luke almost shouted, almost pleading.
"Will you just stop pushing?"
"Will you just stop being so cold all the time?!"
That's about the point when they both ran out of breath. They'd started moving closer to each other without even realising it, and even though they'd been in the middle of a pretty vicious fight, it felt a lot better than being far away.
They stared at each other in almost silence for a really, really long time. Until Reid dropped his head and pressed it into the padded heel of one hand and groaned.
"This is stupid," he'd said. It made Luke smile, somehow.
"Yeah, it is. Let's stop."
"Good idea." Reid looked like he was about to smile, but he didn't manage it. "Err...about what I said, all of it, I'm...sorry."
Luke held up his palm, waving away the apology. "No, you were right before - I'm being pushy."
Reid's eyes shot up to meet his. "I shouldn't have said that, Luke," he said instantly.
"It's okay, you're hurt, it's understandable."
"Maybe," he agreed, "but I was still a jackass." Luke smiled sadly, dropped his gaze for a moment and swallowed hard on the confusing lumping in his throat. "Let's just..." he gestured at the couch, like it might really help them.
"Yeah," Luke nodded, and they dropped together onto the couch, automatically moving closer to each other, a deeply honed instinct, comforting, safe. "This sucks," he said, and finally felt Reid smiling into his hair, snorting softly and sending hot breath rippling against his scalp and thawing some of the aching in between them. His laughter set Luke's body shaking too, and maybe, maybe, a few more weeks of this wouldn't be such an evil impossible thing to live through after all.
PART 2
*****
Reid concentrates hard on eating his cereal without spilling too much on the counter top. He's not looking, but he can tell that Luke keeps glancing his way, that he's itching to take the spoon out of his hand as it trembles in his weedy grip, dripping milk back into the bowl and over the sides.
Since the blow out a few days ago, he's tried to keep his calm. He's thrown the odd bundled t-shirt and kicked open doors too hard and whined obnoxiously about having Doogie Hughes taking over his duties at the Hospital. He's shouted about a lot of shit, but he's made a point not to shout at Luke again. He knows Luke's generally tough, that he's taken a lot and hardly lets any of it get to him. But Reid's supposed to be the one he can trust, when the rest of the world is made of ice and sharp things, he's supposed to make him feel the same kinds of good and safe that Reid feels around him. He's not convinced he's got what it takes to be that for anyone, but he's never in his life wanted to do something impossible more than he does this.
He's only about halfway through his bowl when the clatter of a spoon lets him know that Luke's already finished. Not being the first to finish every meal, with time to go back for thirds, is a whole new phenomenon that Reid's still getting used to. Luke pushes the empty bowl to one side and leans forward in his stool, interlocking his fingers and resting his arms on the table.
"You know," Luke starts conversationally, "last year my Foundation donated to this organisation that supports hand amputees. They give them training to use their mouths and feet for stuff they can't do with their hands anymore." Reid grimaces, thinking of the germs, pausing with the spoon hovering a little away from his lips.
"Their feet?"
Luke grins. "Yeah. It's actually pretty amazing. Some of the funds went to pay for art supplies - they have this one programme where people learn to paint like that, with no hands. Some of the work is really beautiful."
"Really?" he asks, completely cynical.
"Yeah. You know that one in my office at Grimaldi, on the wall behind the desk?"
"The one with all the little red flower things on it?" Luke nods. "Someone painted that with their feet?"
"Pretty cool, huh?"
Reid hums thoughtfully for a second. "Kind of. It's the power of the human brain. Our minds and bodies are capable of adapting to all manner of situations to survive. With training the brain can rewire itself so that unusual functions become like second nature." He pauses, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I don't think my patients would appreciate me operating with my toes though."
Luke chuckles, pleased. "You're so brilliant, I'm sure you could make it work."
"I'm getting my hands back, this is only temporary," Reid says, because it helps to remember that.
Luke looks worried. "I know...I didn't mean...I was just saying"
"Yeah, I know," Reid says, scooping up the final bite of soggy chocolate flakes.
"Oh." Luke coughs quietly a couple of times as he lets go of the apology he'd been building on the edge of his tongue. "Good."
Luke lowers his voice and leans forward over the counter, wrapping a hand loosely over Reid's forearm. "And you know that, even if you didn't, which you will, but even if you didn't get your hands back the way they were...I'm not going anywhere."
Reid looks down at the hand on his wrist and then back up at Luke, his eyes widen a little and the corner of his lips twitches a couple of times. "I'm gonna hold you to that," he says. Luke thumbs over the soft under skin on his forearm.
"Yeah, you better."
*****
"I wish I could take this all back. And I wish there was some way that you could forgive me. But that's just not going to happen, is it?"
"I can't get past this. This. I wanna see you, Luke. I wanna see what you're wearing, if you're smiling at me; I want to see what it's like outside. I want to see the film I made...I want to see, and I can't. And I can't get past that."
*****
"You're the reason that I lost my sight."
*****
"This is all your fault, you know? I can't believe you did this to me!" Reid's voice has gone a little high pitched and Luke's just watching him with his lips curled up into a smug grin and his arms folded comfortably across his chest. "Why'd you have to schedule an emergency meeting the one night Katie's out of town? What kind of sadistic monster are you?!"
"Come on Reid, it's not that bad," he goads.
"Hank! You're making me spend the evening with Hank! What could be worse than that?"
"Hmm...I could always see if Chris is available. You guys could chat about all the things you have in common...."
Luke's got his evening writing class a couple of times a week. It takes place over the time when Reid would normally eat one of his evening meals, and that's fine when Reid can cook for himself, or hold stuff, but it's not so helpful at the moment. Still, it took about an hour of stubborn whining on his part and a promise from Katie to help out for Luke to agree to keep going while Reid's recovering.
The first night in they ate pasta and ice cream and bitched about how Doogie Hughes was never good enough for her anyway, and at least she recovered from her temporary insanity before he dragged her down the aisle. Luke came home tired and exhilarated from a class-wide debate about the virtues of post-modernism, and squished in next to them on the couch. Jacob curled up in his arms and quickly fell asleep, and the three of them watched some crappy action film together until they were falling asleep too and dragged themselves into their respective beds.
The second time round Katie gets called away unexpectedly to deal with some ex-husband or former stalker...something along those lines. She somehow persuades Henry to go in her stead. He turns up at the door looking as unimpressed as Reid feels and Luke makes them both feel more uncomfortable by calling out "Reid, your babysitter's here." And it drives Reid a little nuts that instead of annoying the hell out of him, he's actually pretty impressed at Luke's ability to taunt him quite so shamelessly.
"Hey Luke," Henry greets, smiling. His face falls when he spies Reid stretched out territorially across the couch, and he nods stiffly in his direction. "Dr. Evil." Reid fires him an exaggerated salute with one bandaged up hand, while Luke disappears out the door.
Henry cheers up considerably when he spots the pile of sci-fi DVDs Reid got a hold of for the night, and the two over-sized bowls of microwave popcorn that he's managed to pull together without dropping or spilling anything.
There's an eternity of total silence between them that doesn't bother Reid at all, but Henry makes an awkward coughing sound and glances around him, looking for inspiration.
"So...umm...you and Luke, huh?" Reid doesn't even make the effort to roll his eyes and munches on another scoop of popcorn. Henry clears his throat again. "I don't get it, you know? Luke's so nice and you're...well, you." Reid snickers, and thinks that Henry wouldn't say that if he'd ever seen Luke in bed. Then he hates himself for that mental image.
"Hank, if you're looking for gossip and a hair braiding session, you've come to the wrong place."
"This is coming out wrong. I just meant to say that Luke seems happy with you, is all."
"He is," Reid agrees, not really expecting to hear that, but he knows it's true, after all.
"...happier than he was before, even."
Reid lifts an eyebrow, intrigued by his tone. "You're not a member of the Noah Mayer fan club?"
Henry snorts, and swivels round on the couch to face him better. "Oh boy, you don't know the half of it."
Noah isn't usually his favourite topic of conversation; even after what sounds to Reid like years of bad treatment, Luke still clearly loves the jackass, even though it's thankfully not in the same way anymore. He doesn't care about anything that Noah thinks, or says, or does or ever did, but Henry's attitude is a refreshing change from the butter-wouldn't-melt mentality of the Snyder clan, and by the end of the evening Reid has at least half a dozen new reasons for thinking that Noah needs some kind of professional help for his stupidity.
Reid gets his bandages greasy eating leftovers from the diner and they watch seven episodes of the old The Prisoner series, and Henry drives him insane with thousands of "fun facts" about the show, and the actors, and the opening credits. Reid's shocked to realise he actually enjoyed himself, and the time until Luke gets back flies by like lightning.
"This doesn't make us friends, jerk face," Henry says, as Reid walks him to the door.
"Never said it did Hank." Reid smirks while Henry glares. There's a few seconds of quiet while they face off silently.
"You know," Henry says, breaking the silence, "there's a Battlestar Galactica marathon on next weekend...I could bring burgers, we could make a night of it."
Reid opens his mouth to list the thousands of reasons why that will never happen but then, Hank did offer food, so he says "I want fries. And not the slimy ones from the bottom of the vat. The good stuff."
Henry nods. "Deal."
Reid kicks the door shut when Henry leaves, and Luke comes up to him, fingering lightly at a crease in the front of his shirt. "So...did you and Henry enjoy your play date?" Reid narrows his eyes and straightens up with his arms folded across his chest.
"He fed me," he says, definitively.
"I think you guys might secretly like each other," Luke says in a low voice, "maybe I should be worried about you spending all this time alone together."
Reid shudders, deeply repulsed. "Never put that thought in my head again."
*****
"Noah, I know that this is really frustrating, but...I think it would help if you didn't take everything out on me."
"I'm just trying to be honest, Luke."
"And honest is saying that...you wanna get away from me?"
*****
Reid fumbles with his toothbrush and squishes toothpaste from the tube between his hand and the edge of the sink, shaking some of it off when far too much comes out. He sits on the edge of the bath and awkwardly positions the brush over his teeth, and starts to brush.
Luke strolls in a minute after him and settles himself by the sink. He fishes around in the cabinet and pulls out his razor and shaving cream and he's just squirted a bunch of it into his palm when the brush clatters to the floor.
"Damn it!" Reid stares angrily at the tiles, and it takes a few breaths for him to force down the giant fiery ball of humiliation and frustration that's trying to claw its way out through his chest.
Luke turns to look at him, poised with his blob of foam still in one hand, concerned but not jumping in. "Umm...do you want me to get that, or...?" Reid shakes his head and kneels down, clumsily scooping the thing into his hands before straightening up.
He frowns. "Great, now I need a new toothbrush."
"You can always borrow mine," Luke teases casually.
"Bleugh." Reid shudders. Luke starts laughing, dimples and sunlight, and turns back to the mirror as he smoothes shaving stuff over his chin, and Reid feels a little better.
"Seriously Reid, I don't get it - you'll kiss me and..." he coughs, "...other stuff, but you won't share my toothbrush." Reid raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment on Luke's perpetual bashfulness. He'll flirt like a pro, but when it comes to saying the words themselves... He's working on it though.
"It's different...all those bristles are the perfect breeding ground for bacteria." Luke shrugs. "Plus, all that "other stuff" is hot. Sharing a toothbrush is just...unhygienic."
Luke shrugs. "Suit yourself."
Reid pulls open a draw and fumbles around until he finds a fresh toothbrush and seats himself back in his former position.
Luke finishes up at the sink and turns back to face him. "Do you need me to open that for you?"
Reid hands it over. "Please." Luke expertly plies apart the awkward layers of plastic and rinses the head of the brush for a few seconds before he hands it back to Reid.
Half a minute later, Reid's back to glaring at his toothbrush. Luke looks at him, questioning. "This is...frustrating," he explains.
Luke's face softens instantly. "I'm sorry Reid, I can't imagine what this is like for you."
"You've been paralyzed before," Reid points out, rubbing his eyes clumsily with the rough fabric on the back of his hand, "you've probably got a better idea than most people." There's an odd look on Luke's face, and for once Reid can't place it. It's like he's seen something unexpected but, he thinks, good, so he'll go with it.
"I guess so. Do you want me to..." he gestures at the toothbrush. Reid groans and drops his chin to his chest, but holds the brush out to Luke.
Luke takes it and slowly lowers himself down do he's in front of Reid. He smiles in a way that's all love and no pity and tilts Reid's chin up to face him. "Say ah, Dr. Oliver."
Reid huffs and bites his lip for a second before opening his mouth. "Ah," he drones, as Luke starts to swill the brush around. "This is ridiculous. I feel like a child."
Luke sighs. "Stop talking, you're making this difficult." Reid clamps his jaw shut on the brush, smirking a little as he bites down and Luke groans, dramatically and put-out. "Besides, most kids can brush their teeth all by themselves," he adds helpfully. Reid frowns, but opens his mouth again.
"Thanks," he says, dryly as possible without moving his tongue.
Reid stares stubbornly at the corner of the room, the washbasin, the patterns on the tiles; anything to avoid focusing in his total inability to take care of himself. He feels the grip of Luke's hand on his thigh, and his warm breath on his face, and that's some comfort, but the whole thing still kinda makes him want to curl up in a ball and hide until his hands work again.
"There, you're done." Luke admires his handiwork and Reid gives an exaggeratedly toothy grin. His smile fades and Luke reaches up to stroke his chin softly, gazing at him like he's something special, and not just with a scalpel. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. When Luke pulls back he keeps his eyes closed for a second and sighs happily before looking up at Reid, far too sweet and dreamy for Reid to let it be.
He sticks his tongue between his squeaky clean teeth and wrinkles his nose unpleasantly. "Eugh. Snyder, you should really do something about that breath." Luke slaps him on the knee as he stands up, making a show of being offended while he tries not to laugh.
He pauses suddenly, and something mischievous flashes in his eyes. "I was wondering..." he starts, and there's an evil lilt to his voice, "what would you do if I put your toothbrush back in the wrong slot?"
Reid starts to get outraged, but he's secretly impressed. "Just wait until I get my hands back; I can rewire your brain to do all kinds of crazy stuff."
Luke grins at him and leans back against the sink, gripping it with his hands. "Hey, you want me to help you shave?" Standing up, Reid runs the back of his arm over the rough stubble that's getting pretty noticeable on his chin.
"Nah, I'm good. It's not like I've got anything I need to look professional for, and I know you like it."
Luke ducks his head and looks at him from under his eyelashes in a way that's far, far too sexy for anyone's own good. It's sort of inspirational.
"Come to think of it though, I could really use a shower." He looks at Luke, at the brightness exuding from him that never seems to stop, even when he's ill or tired; the almost imperceptible flush of his cheeks that means he's probably having the same thought that Reid is. "It's probably best if you help me out, you know, for the sake of my hands." Luke bites down on his bottom lip to fend off a smile and folds his arms across his chest, swaying forwards slightly.
"Well, we wouldn't want to do anything that might damage your recovery..."
"Exactly."
"So, Dr. Oliver, is it your medical opinion that I should shower with you?"
Reid takes a step closer and lets the word roll out of him, low and hot and breathy. "Absolutely." Luke's smile makes his insides melt.
Luke's slow and cautious at first, even though the only bit of Reid that's still injured is his hands. He kisses him under the water, long and slow, running his hands up and down his chest, over his shoulders, the length of his arms to the place where the plastic cover that's protecting his bandages starts just above his wrists.
He leans slowly against Reid, pressing him back onto the tiles. One arm wraps securely around his waist while the other drags the foaming washcloth over his torso. He uses that fruity shower gel that Reid absolutely hates, but somehow ends up using every day, because it smells like Luke and it keeps Reid calm in boring budget meetings and exams with moronic patients.
The water's warm, but not hot; it's enough to be comfortable, but Luke refuses to turn the temperature higher even though Reid's explained to him a thousand times that his hands are plenty well protected.
Reid hooks an arm round his neck and tugs hard so that he stumbles back against the tiles, pulling Luke's body into his. The action sets of something in Luke and he makes a noise low in his throat, and his eyes flare up with lust.
Luke fucks him against the shower wall, one arm locked around Reid's thigh, holding his leg high around his waist, the other bracing him against the tiles. And the soap and the water makes it slippery and a little precarious and Luke just holds him tighter, and it's really, scorchingly hot, and it's also fun and silly because they have to keep rearranging themselves to keep upright, but it's still a thousand kinds of safe that Reid never thought possible before he felt Luke's skin on his skin and Luke's breath on his neck. And he can't hold on, not even a little bit. And he's still learning how to be fine with just how much that's now totally okay.
Touch, Parts 3-4
Touch, Parts 5-6