NEW! "My Favorite Disease" (ATWT Oneshot/Songfic, sequel to "Angels Lie")
Title: My Favorite Disease (Oneshot/songfic, sequel to Angels Lie)
Pairing: Nuke/Lure
Rating: R
Prompt: Luke chose Reid. Noah’s on a suicide mission.
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Don’t make no money.
link
Note: Okay, okay, I'll write a sequel.
***
My Favorite Disease
Reid tries, he really does. He tries hypnosis, the patch, and going cold turkey. He even tried a Twelve-Step group once, but left in disgust after the first five minutes. There was no way on God’s green earth that Dr. Reid Oliver would admit to being powerless over anything.
So he smokes one or two cigarettes a month. Three, tops. Usually after a phone conversation with his mother or before major surgery.
The night before he operated on Noah Mayer, he smoked half a pack of Marlboros and threw up six times.
It’s not that he doubted his surgical skills. He’d just never operated with so much at stake. Not just Noah’s eyesight, but his own heart.
Reid still can’t believe Luke chose him. Every day he expects someone to tap him on the shoulder and tell him his daydream’s over and it’s time to get back to work.
Talk about an addiction - Luke Snyder is more powerful than any drug on the market. Noah’s proof of that. Reid catches glimpses of him in town now and again, looking thin and hollow-eyed as a junkie. Not that Reid cares - he still considers Noah a threat - but he’s been a doctor long enough to recognize a downward spiral when he sees one. And he knows it’s only a matter of time before Luke cuts him off, too, and then he’ll be the one wallowing in the gutter, dying for a fix
I'm sick and tired of the ways that you want me to be
Sick and tired of the shit you keep spittin'
I won't deny all the times that I wanted to leave
But I can't ‘cause I'd miss all your bitchin' at me
It started out so cool
Can't stand what it turned in to
Like a drug I can't kick
It's so hard to admit it to you
Cause I hate myself when I'm spun and I'm lit
Wish I wasn't addicted to you
But I can't help it
You got what I need
You are my favorite disease
You are my favorite disease
Reid’s always been comfortable with sex. It’s a normal, healthy function of the human body. But sex for him has always been somewhat...clinical. He’s never tolerated any of the emotional aspects, any of the baggage or drama. After an encounter, he leaves as soon as basic sexual politeness allows. No cuddling, no clinging, no nothing.
But Luke’s clingy, in every sense of the word. He cleaves to Reid after sex, snuggling against him, twining his limbs around him and then falling asleep, leaving Reid tangled and trapped in his bed. He calls and texts several times a day, needing constant reassurance of Reid’s devotion. His very smell clings to Reid’s clothes and skin and hair, driving him insane with want.
Reid knows his friends and coworkers in Dallas would laugh their asses off if they could see him now. A grown man trailing like a lovesick puppy after a boy barely out of his teens.
It’s why he ends up getting dragged to Snyder family functions, against his virulent protests.
Reid’s not an idiot. He knows Luke’s family is the most important thing in the world to him and that it would be wise to cultivate their acquaintance. It’s just that he doesn’t like to share. The entire time he’s around Luke’s relatives, all he wants is to drag him somewhere private and get his hands on him. The clock in his mind is always ticking, counting down the hours until their affair ends.
Not to mention, he can tell Luke’s family doesn’t like him. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t bother him. Ordinarily, he’d encourage their dislike just to amuse himself. But this is different.
Oh, they’re perfectly polite to him. Perfectly pleasant in their annoying World’s Most Perfect Family way. It’s just that Reid could be the greatest guy in the world and he still might as well have a sign around his neck that says “Not Noah Mayer.”
Because apparently Noah was not only Luke’s One True Love, he was also The World’s Most Perfect Boyfriend. A Boy Scout with a Merit Badge in Awesome. He helped muck stalls and fix leaky roofs at the farm. Played board games with the kiddies and made pancakes for the whole family on Sundays. Helped little old ladies cross the street and rocked freaking babies to sleep.
Seriously, if Reid has to hear one more time how Noah was the only one who could soothe Baby Eliza when she was teething, he’ll carve out his own eyeballs with a scalpel.
Needless to say, when Luke’s father calls at the end of a long shift to request his presence, Reid declines. He knows for a fact that Luke is still out of town on business and not due back for several hours. He knows because he’s been counting the minutes and hating himself for it every second.
“I have plans,” he says. He doesn’t tell Holden that his plans involve fucking his son against a wall. Even his rudeness has limits.
Holden, politely but firmly, repeats his request. “It’s urgent,” he adds.
Reid’s heart falls into his shoes. “Is it Luke? Is he all right?”
“I’ll explain everything when you get here,” Holden states, then hangs up.
Reid spends five minutes cursing, then leaves work early - something he’s never done before in his entire career - and drives to Lily’s Snyder house. He recognizes several cars, from Emma’s antique pick-up to Lucinda’s silver Jaguar. Apparently the entire clan has assembled.
There’s also a cop standing outside.
Reid’s uneasiness grows, and the moment he enters, he realizes something is seriously wrong. Even his limited social intelligence can pick up on the tension in the room. Luke’s mother has clearly been crying, and Reid’s old nemesis, Chief Hughes, paces the floor.
As Reid closes the door behind him, Lucinda hangs up the phone. “The airport confirms that Luke was on the Worldwide jet when it left New York,” she says. “They’re due in at any minute.”
“Oh, thank God,” Lily says, and Holden puts his arm around her.
“I’ll call Jack,” Margo says, and picks up the phone.
There’s a collective sigh of relief, followed by silence. Reid takes the opportunity to ask just what in the hell is going on.
Five minutes later, he’s sitting in the corner dying for a cigarette.
He’s heard of Colonel Mayer, of course. Luke once let slip something about Noah’s father being in prison, and hey, Reid’s only human. He’s as curious as anyone else. So he did a little research. After he saw the man’s list of crimes, he took a peek at Luke’s medical records. His fingers grew ice-cold as he read them, and he wondered if Luke or his family know just how close Luke came to never walking again.
He tries to stay calm. Sure, there’s a murderous maniac on the loose, but Luke’s well-guarded, not to mention he and Noah aren’t together anymore so maybe the Colonel won’t go after him. Even if he does, there are cops outside the door and more on the way, not to mention a private security firm and a passel of gun-toting Snyders. He tells himself that this is nothing, just another installment in the tedious never-ending drama of Luke and Noah. But he can’t shake his sense of dread.
In the end, it’s Noah’s reaction that terrifies him the most. He arrives wild-eyed, asking for Luke. When Holden explains about the Colonel’s prison break, Noah folds in half and drops into a chair. He puts his face on his knees, wraps his arms around his head, links his fingers behind his neck, and rocks back and forth, screaming in anguish. Ten seconds later he sits up, his face calm and controlled, and asks about the guards his father murdered.
Reid’s never seen anyone rein in their emotions so quickly, and it chills him to the bone. By the time Margo is questioning Noah about his father, Reid’s high-tailing it out the back door. He’s never wanted a cigarette so bad in his life.
So hard to say why I keep comin' back to you
Hard to say that I like how I'm livin'
But I'm a slave to the pain that you're puttin' me through
Can't walk away ‘cause I love what you're willin' to do
It started out so cool
Can't stand what it turned in to
Like a drug I can't kick
It's so hard to admit it to you
‘Cause I hate myself when I'm spun and I'm lit
Wish I wasn't addicted to you
But I can't help it
You got what I need
You are my favorite disease
Reid loves the ritual of smoking. Opening the carton, with all the little boxes packed neatly inside, feels like Christmas morning. He loves the crackle of plastic as he removes the wrapper and the comforting weight of the pack as he tamps it against the palm of his hand. He loves the feeling of anticipation as he opens the lid, peels back the foil, and breathes in that first tantalizing scent of tobacco.
He greedily eyes the row of cigarettes, standing side-by-side like little soldiers in their paper uniforms. It’s like being a kid again and opening a fresh box of 64 Color Crayolas, each crayon perfectly pointed, each one wearing a little jacket announcing their color like a rank. Turquoise. Sea Green. Maize. And his personal favorite, Burnt Sienna. (He remembers the unspeakable rage he felt opening the box a week later and finding them out of order or broken in half, their paper jackets torn or missing - evidence that his little sister had been using his crayons against his express prohibition.)
Reid smokes left to right, front row first. The first cigarette in a new pack always tastes the best. He carefully slides it out from its brothers, places it between his lips, and pulls out his lighter. He loves the musical snick of the lighter as it catches, loves seeing the little flame stand at attention. Then there’s the fierce glow as fire meets tobacco in a kiss, the tiny puff of smoke as it ignites, and finally - finally - that slow, sweet, perfect first drag.
Reid’s never done hard drugs. He’d never defile his precious brain cells that way. But he knows what a junkie must feel as the needle bites the arm: Pure, utter peace and fulfillment. In that instant, his cares fall away, the world disappears, and every last atom of tension leaves his body. It’s an orgasm in a stick.
Reid draws that moment out as long as he can, holding the hot smoke in his mouth. Then he inhales deeply and relishes the sting as the heat descends into his body. The harsh burn in his chest and throat as he exhales is the icing on the cake.
More pleasures await: Watching the paper burn in a tiny molten ring of fire. Waiting until the last second before the ash falls and then flicking if off. Calculating how many drags it will take to get to the filter. The entire experience is bliss from beginning to end.
It figures Noah Mayer would ruin that, too.
Reid’s enjoying his second cigarette, relishing the solitude of the back patio, and minding his own damn business when Noah slips out the back door and startles the bejesus out of him.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he blurts.
Noah turns, his expression unreadable in the darkness. “Excuse me?”
Reid flicks his cigarette into the bushes and stands. He had at least two more good drags left, but Noah’s spoiled the moment. “Chief Hughes ordered us all to stay here under police protection - such as it is - until your father is captured.”
“I’m just getting some air.”
That’s when Reid gets it, what Noah's about to do. The feeling of dread returns, harshing his buzz. “Please tell me you’re not going to do something stupid.”
Noah’s hands curl into fists. “What do you care?”
Reid flinches at the gesture but forces himself to stand his ground. “I don’t. But Luke does.” It grates on Reid to admit it, but it’s true. “What am I supposed to tell him when he figures out you’re gone?”
Noah smiles thinly. “Lie. You know how to do that, don’t you, Dr. Oliver?”
Irritated, Reid pulls a third cigarette from the pack. There goes his entire quota for the month. Again, all Noah Mayer’s fault.
“You love Luke, right?” Noah asks abruptly.
The question hits Reid like an axe behind the knees. His usual defenses, sarcasm and wit, desert their posts and flee the field. “My relationship with Luke is none of your business,” he sputters. “It never was.”
“But you love him.”
Reid lights his cigarette, praying that Noah can’t see his hands trembling. He sucks in the smoke without the usual enjoyment and exhales through his nose. His eyes water from the sting. “So?” he says finally. “And?”
“So promise me something.”
Reid stuffs his lighter back into his pocket to hide his shaking hands. “What?”
Noah steps forward, into the faint circle of light cast from the house. “Whatever happens, don’t let Luke come after me.” He steps closer, boxing Reid in. “Promise.”
Reid hesitates. His medical practice has never taken him near a combat zone, but even he recognizes the look in Noah’s eyes. This is a suicide mission. This is war. “Noah...”
“Do you want my father to kill him” Noah asks quietly. “Because he will, without a second thought.”
Reid sees the truth in his eyes. And after what he’s read about Winston Mayer, he believes him. He also knows for a fact that if Luke finds out where Noah’s gone, he’ll go after him - and wind up dead.
“Promise me,” Noah presses. “Think about it. I’ll be out of your life, and you’ll finally have Luke all to yourself.”
Reid thinks fast. He can’t physically stop Noah - he’s not exactly jonesing for another punch to the head. Maybe he can keep him talking long enough for someone in the house to come looking for them. “Fine. Go do your vendetta, or whatever your idiotic plan is.”
Noah holds out his hand. “Do I have your word?”
“Do you want me to pinky swear?” Reid snaps. Why hasn’t anyone noticed Noah’s missing? He’s six feet tall and has all the sneakiness and subtlety of a two-year-old Labrador Retriever. Plus, the Snyders love the kid to pieces. How could they let him out of their sight? Surely there’s a baby somewhere that needs its nippy bottle.
Noah continues to hold out his hand, steady as a rock. “Fine, you have my word,” Reid snarls. His heart is pounding and not just from the nicotine. “But I don’t shake hands. No offense. I’m a surgeon, and my hands are my life, as you well know.” It’s a last-ditch attempt to stall.
“Fine." Noah walks away.
Reid may not be the most altruistic guy in the world, but even his slippery medical ethics can't let this happen. "Noah!"
Noah turns back.
“Your father’s a wanted man,” Reid says, appealing to logic. “Half the cops in Illinois are looking for him. What makes you think you can find him when they can’t?”
“I won’t have to,” Noah says. “He’ll find me.” And he’s gone, slipping alone into the darkness.
Reid listens for the sound of his truck starting up, praying the cops will notice, but there’s only the whine of nighttime insects and the far-off bark of a dog.
To Reid’s credit, it only takes him the length of his final cigarette to decide what to do. Sure, he could keep quiet, keep his promise. Luke would be safe, and that’s all that matters, both to him and to Noah.
But if Luke ever found out, he would never forgive him.
Of course, if he tells the truth, that he let Noah go, Luke will never forgive him anyway.
Noah Fucking Mayer, Reid thinks as he grinds his cigarette underfoot. He ruins everything.
Reid breathes quietly for a few seconds, listening to the clock in his mind run out. When he goes back inside, Luke is just entering the front door, wild-eyed and asking for Noah. His parents step forward to reassure him.
“Noah’s here,” Lily says. “He’s safe.”
Luke looks around the room for Noah and sees Reid.
Something must show on his face, because Luke frowns at him in concern. “Reid?”
Something must show on Luke’s face, because everyone follows his gaze and now they’re all staring at him, every last damn Snyder.
“Reid,” Luke says softly into the silence. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
God, you're beautiful, Reid thinks. But you were never mine to keep.
It’s taken six months and a stubborn farm boy from Illinois to bring Dr. Reid Oliver to his knees, but he’s finally willing to admit he’s powerless over his addiction.
Reid takes a deep breath, feeling the burn in his chest. “We have a very big problem,” he says.
I know it's killing both of us (You are my favorite disease)
You're not immune so don't think you can give it up
‘Cause I hate myself when I'm spun and I'm lit
Wish I wasn't addicted to you
But I can't help it
You got what I need
You are my favorite disease
The End
***
**Lyrics from "My Favorite Disease" by Rev Theory**
Pairing: Nuke/Lure
Rating: R
Prompt: Luke chose Reid. Noah’s on a suicide mission.
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Don’t make no money.
link
Note: Okay, okay, I'll write a sequel.
***
My Favorite Disease
Reid tries, he really does. He tries hypnosis, the patch, and going cold turkey. He even tried a Twelve-Step group once, but left in disgust after the first five minutes. There was no way on God’s green earth that Dr. Reid Oliver would admit to being powerless over anything.
So he smokes one or two cigarettes a month. Three, tops. Usually after a phone conversation with his mother or before major surgery.
The night before he operated on Noah Mayer, he smoked half a pack of Marlboros and threw up six times.
It’s not that he doubted his surgical skills. He’d just never operated with so much at stake. Not just Noah’s eyesight, but his own heart.
Reid still can’t believe Luke chose him. Every day he expects someone to tap him on the shoulder and tell him his daydream’s over and it’s time to get back to work.
Talk about an addiction - Luke Snyder is more powerful than any drug on the market. Noah’s proof of that. Reid catches glimpses of him in town now and again, looking thin and hollow-eyed as a junkie. Not that Reid cares - he still considers Noah a threat - but he’s been a doctor long enough to recognize a downward spiral when he sees one. And he knows it’s only a matter of time before Luke cuts him off, too, and then he’ll be the one wallowing in the gutter, dying for a fix
I'm sick and tired of the ways that you want me to be
Sick and tired of the shit you keep spittin'
I won't deny all the times that I wanted to leave
But I can't ‘cause I'd miss all your bitchin' at me
It started out so cool
Can't stand what it turned in to
Like a drug I can't kick
It's so hard to admit it to you
Cause I hate myself when I'm spun and I'm lit
Wish I wasn't addicted to you
But I can't help it
You got what I need
You are my favorite disease
You are my favorite disease
Reid’s always been comfortable with sex. It’s a normal, healthy function of the human body. But sex for him has always been somewhat...clinical. He’s never tolerated any of the emotional aspects, any of the baggage or drama. After an encounter, he leaves as soon as basic sexual politeness allows. No cuddling, no clinging, no nothing.
But Luke’s clingy, in every sense of the word. He cleaves to Reid after sex, snuggling against him, twining his limbs around him and then falling asleep, leaving Reid tangled and trapped in his bed. He calls and texts several times a day, needing constant reassurance of Reid’s devotion. His very smell clings to Reid’s clothes and skin and hair, driving him insane with want.
Reid knows his friends and coworkers in Dallas would laugh their asses off if they could see him now. A grown man trailing like a lovesick puppy after a boy barely out of his teens.
It’s why he ends up getting dragged to Snyder family functions, against his virulent protests.
Reid’s not an idiot. He knows Luke’s family is the most important thing in the world to him and that it would be wise to cultivate their acquaintance. It’s just that he doesn’t like to share. The entire time he’s around Luke’s relatives, all he wants is to drag him somewhere private and get his hands on him. The clock in his mind is always ticking, counting down the hours until their affair ends.
Not to mention, he can tell Luke’s family doesn’t like him. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t bother him. Ordinarily, he’d encourage their dislike just to amuse himself. But this is different.
Oh, they’re perfectly polite to him. Perfectly pleasant in their annoying World’s Most Perfect Family way. It’s just that Reid could be the greatest guy in the world and he still might as well have a sign around his neck that says “Not Noah Mayer.”
Because apparently Noah was not only Luke’s One True Love, he was also The World’s Most Perfect Boyfriend. A Boy Scout with a Merit Badge in Awesome. He helped muck stalls and fix leaky roofs at the farm. Played board games with the kiddies and made pancakes for the whole family on Sundays. Helped little old ladies cross the street and rocked freaking babies to sleep.
Seriously, if Reid has to hear one more time how Noah was the only one who could soothe Baby Eliza when she was teething, he’ll carve out his own eyeballs with a scalpel.
Needless to say, when Luke’s father calls at the end of a long shift to request his presence, Reid declines. He knows for a fact that Luke is still out of town on business and not due back for several hours. He knows because he’s been counting the minutes and hating himself for it every second.
“I have plans,” he says. He doesn’t tell Holden that his plans involve fucking his son against a wall. Even his rudeness has limits.
Holden, politely but firmly, repeats his request. “It’s urgent,” he adds.
Reid’s heart falls into his shoes. “Is it Luke? Is he all right?”
“I’ll explain everything when you get here,” Holden states, then hangs up.
Reid spends five minutes cursing, then leaves work early - something he’s never done before in his entire career - and drives to Lily’s Snyder house. He recognizes several cars, from Emma’s antique pick-up to Lucinda’s silver Jaguar. Apparently the entire clan has assembled.
There’s also a cop standing outside.
Reid’s uneasiness grows, and the moment he enters, he realizes something is seriously wrong. Even his limited social intelligence can pick up on the tension in the room. Luke’s mother has clearly been crying, and Reid’s old nemesis, Chief Hughes, paces the floor.
As Reid closes the door behind him, Lucinda hangs up the phone. “The airport confirms that Luke was on the Worldwide jet when it left New York,” she says. “They’re due in at any minute.”
“Oh, thank God,” Lily says, and Holden puts his arm around her.
“I’ll call Jack,” Margo says, and picks up the phone.
There’s a collective sigh of relief, followed by silence. Reid takes the opportunity to ask just what in the hell is going on.
Five minutes later, he’s sitting in the corner dying for a cigarette.
He’s heard of Colonel Mayer, of course. Luke once let slip something about Noah’s father being in prison, and hey, Reid’s only human. He’s as curious as anyone else. So he did a little research. After he saw the man’s list of crimes, he took a peek at Luke’s medical records. His fingers grew ice-cold as he read them, and he wondered if Luke or his family know just how close Luke came to never walking again.
He tries to stay calm. Sure, there’s a murderous maniac on the loose, but Luke’s well-guarded, not to mention he and Noah aren’t together anymore so maybe the Colonel won’t go after him. Even if he does, there are cops outside the door and more on the way, not to mention a private security firm and a passel of gun-toting Snyders. He tells himself that this is nothing, just another installment in the tedious never-ending drama of Luke and Noah. But he can’t shake his sense of dread.
In the end, it’s Noah’s reaction that terrifies him the most. He arrives wild-eyed, asking for Luke. When Holden explains about the Colonel’s prison break, Noah folds in half and drops into a chair. He puts his face on his knees, wraps his arms around his head, links his fingers behind his neck, and rocks back and forth, screaming in anguish. Ten seconds later he sits up, his face calm and controlled, and asks about the guards his father murdered.
Reid’s never seen anyone rein in their emotions so quickly, and it chills him to the bone. By the time Margo is questioning Noah about his father, Reid’s high-tailing it out the back door. He’s never wanted a cigarette so bad in his life.
So hard to say why I keep comin' back to you
Hard to say that I like how I'm livin'
But I'm a slave to the pain that you're puttin' me through
Can't walk away ‘cause I love what you're willin' to do
It started out so cool
Can't stand what it turned in to
Like a drug I can't kick
It's so hard to admit it to you
‘Cause I hate myself when I'm spun and I'm lit
Wish I wasn't addicted to you
But I can't help it
You got what I need
You are my favorite disease
Reid loves the ritual of smoking. Opening the carton, with all the little boxes packed neatly inside, feels like Christmas morning. He loves the crackle of plastic as he removes the wrapper and the comforting weight of the pack as he tamps it against the palm of his hand. He loves the feeling of anticipation as he opens the lid, peels back the foil, and breathes in that first tantalizing scent of tobacco.
He greedily eyes the row of cigarettes, standing side-by-side like little soldiers in their paper uniforms. It’s like being a kid again and opening a fresh box of 64 Color Crayolas, each crayon perfectly pointed, each one wearing a little jacket announcing their color like a rank. Turquoise. Sea Green. Maize. And his personal favorite, Burnt Sienna. (He remembers the unspeakable rage he felt opening the box a week later and finding them out of order or broken in half, their paper jackets torn or missing - evidence that his little sister had been using his crayons against his express prohibition.)
Reid smokes left to right, front row first. The first cigarette in a new pack always tastes the best. He carefully slides it out from its brothers, places it between his lips, and pulls out his lighter. He loves the musical snick of the lighter as it catches, loves seeing the little flame stand at attention. Then there’s the fierce glow as fire meets tobacco in a kiss, the tiny puff of smoke as it ignites, and finally - finally - that slow, sweet, perfect first drag.
Reid’s never done hard drugs. He’d never defile his precious brain cells that way. But he knows what a junkie must feel as the needle bites the arm: Pure, utter peace and fulfillment. In that instant, his cares fall away, the world disappears, and every last atom of tension leaves his body. It’s an orgasm in a stick.
Reid draws that moment out as long as he can, holding the hot smoke in his mouth. Then he inhales deeply and relishes the sting as the heat descends into his body. The harsh burn in his chest and throat as he exhales is the icing on the cake.
More pleasures await: Watching the paper burn in a tiny molten ring of fire. Waiting until the last second before the ash falls and then flicking if off. Calculating how many drags it will take to get to the filter. The entire experience is bliss from beginning to end.
It figures Noah Mayer would ruin that, too.
Reid’s enjoying his second cigarette, relishing the solitude of the back patio, and minding his own damn business when Noah slips out the back door and startles the bejesus out of him.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he blurts.
Noah turns, his expression unreadable in the darkness. “Excuse me?”
Reid flicks his cigarette into the bushes and stands. He had at least two more good drags left, but Noah’s spoiled the moment. “Chief Hughes ordered us all to stay here under police protection - such as it is - until your father is captured.”
“I’m just getting some air.”
That’s when Reid gets it, what Noah's about to do. The feeling of dread returns, harshing his buzz. “Please tell me you’re not going to do something stupid.”
Noah’s hands curl into fists. “What do you care?”
Reid flinches at the gesture but forces himself to stand his ground. “I don’t. But Luke does.” It grates on Reid to admit it, but it’s true. “What am I supposed to tell him when he figures out you’re gone?”
Noah smiles thinly. “Lie. You know how to do that, don’t you, Dr. Oliver?”
Irritated, Reid pulls a third cigarette from the pack. There goes his entire quota for the month. Again, all Noah Mayer’s fault.
“You love Luke, right?” Noah asks abruptly.
The question hits Reid like an axe behind the knees. His usual defenses, sarcasm and wit, desert their posts and flee the field. “My relationship with Luke is none of your business,” he sputters. “It never was.”
“But you love him.”
Reid lights his cigarette, praying that Noah can’t see his hands trembling. He sucks in the smoke without the usual enjoyment and exhales through his nose. His eyes water from the sting. “So?” he says finally. “And?”
“So promise me something.”
Reid stuffs his lighter back into his pocket to hide his shaking hands. “What?”
Noah steps forward, into the faint circle of light cast from the house. “Whatever happens, don’t let Luke come after me.” He steps closer, boxing Reid in. “Promise.”
Reid hesitates. His medical practice has never taken him near a combat zone, but even he recognizes the look in Noah’s eyes. This is a suicide mission. This is war. “Noah...”
“Do you want my father to kill him” Noah asks quietly. “Because he will, without a second thought.”
Reid sees the truth in his eyes. And after what he’s read about Winston Mayer, he believes him. He also knows for a fact that if Luke finds out where Noah’s gone, he’ll go after him - and wind up dead.
“Promise me,” Noah presses. “Think about it. I’ll be out of your life, and you’ll finally have Luke all to yourself.”
Reid thinks fast. He can’t physically stop Noah - he’s not exactly jonesing for another punch to the head. Maybe he can keep him talking long enough for someone in the house to come looking for them. “Fine. Go do your vendetta, or whatever your idiotic plan is.”
Noah holds out his hand. “Do I have your word?”
“Do you want me to pinky swear?” Reid snaps. Why hasn’t anyone noticed Noah’s missing? He’s six feet tall and has all the sneakiness and subtlety of a two-year-old Labrador Retriever. Plus, the Snyders love the kid to pieces. How could they let him out of their sight? Surely there’s a baby somewhere that needs its nippy bottle.
Noah continues to hold out his hand, steady as a rock. “Fine, you have my word,” Reid snarls. His heart is pounding and not just from the nicotine. “But I don’t shake hands. No offense. I’m a surgeon, and my hands are my life, as you well know.” It’s a last-ditch attempt to stall.
“Fine." Noah walks away.
Reid may not be the most altruistic guy in the world, but even his slippery medical ethics can't let this happen. "Noah!"
Noah turns back.
“Your father’s a wanted man,” Reid says, appealing to logic. “Half the cops in Illinois are looking for him. What makes you think you can find him when they can’t?”
“I won’t have to,” Noah says. “He’ll find me.” And he’s gone, slipping alone into the darkness.
Reid listens for the sound of his truck starting up, praying the cops will notice, but there’s only the whine of nighttime insects and the far-off bark of a dog.
To Reid’s credit, it only takes him the length of his final cigarette to decide what to do. Sure, he could keep quiet, keep his promise. Luke would be safe, and that’s all that matters, both to him and to Noah.
But if Luke ever found out, he would never forgive him.
Of course, if he tells the truth, that he let Noah go, Luke will never forgive him anyway.
Noah Fucking Mayer, Reid thinks as he grinds his cigarette underfoot. He ruins everything.
Reid breathes quietly for a few seconds, listening to the clock in his mind run out. When he goes back inside, Luke is just entering the front door, wild-eyed and asking for Noah. His parents step forward to reassure him.
“Noah’s here,” Lily says. “He’s safe.”
Luke looks around the room for Noah and sees Reid.
Something must show on his face, because Luke frowns at him in concern. “Reid?”
Something must show on Luke’s face, because everyone follows his gaze and now they’re all staring at him, every last damn Snyder.
“Reid,” Luke says softly into the silence. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
God, you're beautiful, Reid thinks. But you were never mine to keep.
It’s taken six months and a stubborn farm boy from Illinois to bring Dr. Reid Oliver to his knees, but he’s finally willing to admit he’s powerless over his addiction.
Reid takes a deep breath, feeling the burn in his chest. “We have a very big problem,” he says.
I know it's killing both of us (You are my favorite disease)
You're not immune so don't think you can give it up
‘Cause I hate myself when I'm spun and I'm lit
Wish I wasn't addicted to you
But I can't help it
You got what I need
You are my favorite disease
The End
***
**Lyrics from "My Favorite Disease" by Rev Theory**