A/N: So it's been a while since I've wrote LP. Actually, I haven't written them since the summer of '08, and I guess the lack of them has just actually dawned on me. Anyway, this was written for a challenge over at OTH forums and is totally AU; LP did have hot motel sex in 1x12 CCIPC and this is my version of the aftermath. Thanks for reading and feedback is always appreciated! Title stolen from: Amy Lowell's poem 'A Fixed Idea.' Peyton's POV is told in the second person and Lucas in the third person. This is partially set during 1x12 and from there on, is totally AU.

Reviews are love!

All Recurring Joy is Pain Refined

Your best friend and her boyfriend (your friend, the one who understands you without as much as a word) are checking up on you because you're alone. That's nothing new, you know, but it's like these recurring loses. With your mom it was final – so definite. You can physically feel the space where she's missing, but with your dad, he drifts out and in, like the tide. He's here, then he's not, and as much as you know this is how it has to be, you would like that security back. It simply just doesn't exist in your life anymore.

This is why it all stings just a little bit harder, the fact that Brooke is the one constant in your life.

And the fact that from the second you nearly killed him, you knew Lucas Scott was staying too.

And unbeknownst to your best friend, your sister, your family, you are both their number one.

If it wasn't so completely entangled, so utterly irrevocable, it would be normality. It would be innocent. It would be instinctual.

And at first it so very is; innocent with your dad greeting him rake boy and Brooke by his side, her smile never slipping from her pretty face. As if she couldn't shine any brighter, beside Lucas, she does. She's happy. He's happy. You're happy.

When applied to Brooke, actually, happy is an understatement – Brooke is in a state of fully blown bliss. Every sentence that escapes her lips is either another flirty feisty remark to her boyfriend or those glowing words of encouragement to you. She simply can't do enough for you and of course you love her for that, but there's something off, other than the fact that your life is just unravelling a little bit more everyday.

They're outside being the perfect couple when you interrupt. They break apart, you notice Luke was a little bit too quick to pull away, but they're not here to make out, they're genuinely here for you.

"What's wrong?" The brunette asks, tone brimming with concern.

You have two answers.

"I'm just worried 'bout my dad." You go for option two, and well, it's not like you're being dishonest.

Throughout it all, you can feel his eyes on you, always. You can't help but worry for your dad, and Lucas can't help but worry for you. When you first actually had a conversation with him, it was kind of intimidating, albeit flattering, but ever since you've learnt and he's showed you that it's not about judgment. He was analysing you and your work, desperately trying to find a way in. Typical, with hindsight he never really had to analyse you at all. He just knew. And you find that slightly scary, but strangely securing, sometimes.

And you and him.

It's a match next to dynamite.

And from the second she bids you both goodbyes; "I love you, it's going to be okay." She has just lit the match. Can't start a fire without a spark, and if anyone knew how to start something, it was Brooke Penelope Davis.

Tick, tick, boom.

Lucas, Peyton, the Comet, the road whilst struggling to reach a destination. It feels like the situation was never meant to be anything other than this.

He's imagined this scenario so many times, far too many for a boy at the ripe old age of seventeen. As much as this is somewhat the half-fulfilment of a school boy fantasy, he's glad that out of everyone, she's letting him be the one here for her, not even Brooke could compete.

The space between them is filled by the sounds of Nada Surf, Dashboard Confessional and the Stereophonics. He doesn't need to ask her about music, add it to the list of all the undeniable magnetisms that bind them together. Sometimes, they'll sit there and share a comfortable silence, as if they're waiting for something, something less morbid than what she's about to endure, like they're waiting for something more.

She doesn't ask for anything, when he offers a coffee stop, she declines. Somehow, being here is enough. And she's all too grateful.

"Thanks for doing this for me, Luke." Her lips form a smile and he swears his heart skipped a beat.

"That's what friends are for, right?" He rectifies, knowing this no time for some elaborate declaration of love or heart failure in the middle of nowhere.

"Yeah." Peyton confirms shakily. She lets her eyes linger on Lucas for longer than she knows she should, but she can't tear them away. Not anymore. Before she was the one in charge and he was the boy with an infatuation that wouldn't fade, now, she's involved in something more than she ever anticipated. There are times; fleeting seconds, when she wishes it would all revert to how it was her, the cheerleader with her jock boyfriend. Her lust for Nathan came and passed, but at their cycle was simple. This thing with Lucas, they're not friends, they're a mess.

He even confirms it as they settle into their motel room. She laughs that bitter, sardonic laugh and he can barely take it, knowing she's in this torture. He settles into a chair, runs a hand through his hair, exasperated.

"I'm in a hurry to find out if my dad is dead. It's kinda surreal." She replies to his questioning.

"Yeah, it's pretty messed up." He replies frankly.

She struggles to think of something that's not.

But when they're lying beside one another in the darkness, platonic as possible, she finds that this, being with him, letting him in fully, it's the one part of this that all makes sense.

It's a sleepless night, for fear they'll wake up in a compromising position.

He raids the vending machines, she tells him stories about when she was young, for the first time she's vulnerable, letting the ice wall around her heart melt, if only for a night.

What he leaves unsaid (with all the other things like I want everything, I want it all oh wait, he couldn't hold himself back from those) is that he remembers her, from primary school, even. He remembers too much and the thing is, he knows he'll never forget her tight curls against perfect pale skin then, or the warmth in her eyes tonight, or anytime.

You fly into his arms because it's been so long since you've felt this type of relief, this type of elation, you don't know how else to handle it. And you know he does, because lately he's been handling everything with you so well.

And every time he reciprocates, carefully enveloping you with his arms, making sure your fragile strength won't disappear. A quick glance at the person who has died, a quick hug, a quick call to Brooke and then you're both walking through that motel room door once again.

Searching for that bracelet frantically, like it's the most important object in existence, tears stream down your cheeks and you don't know why – shock, happiness, a mixture and thank God, you've found it.

This is all very strange and urgent and the tears cloud everything, including your judgement. The one thing that remains is him. Without pausing to think, you're in his arms once again and he tells you, "Its okay," With that earnest smile on his face.

It's innocent.

The tears turn into muffled laughter.

"Hey, its okay, everything's okay now, okay?" He says, clearly happy because you're happy. He is relieved, simply because he observes the wave of relief crashing over you. Inevitably it sparks the memory you've been trying so hard to diminish, the truth is, Lucas I want all the same things you want and I want them with you. You find yourself in his arms once again. It's not the first time and you know it's far from the last. You can't help yourself. It's been so long since this type of happiness; this knowing of its going to be okay has been in your heart and raced through your mind.

And when you feel your green lock with his blue (you always felt it), you know that from this point, everything between you both is irrevocable.

--

Before either of them takes the time to evaluate, her lips are on his and all he can think is finally.

It's not the smothering kisses his girlfriend insists on bestowing upon him. It's nothing like he's experienced in his life, all he's ever wanted since she last kissed him. This kiss is as natural as breathing.

There's no thinking or talking, they've done enough of that. Her, having sleepless nights replaying the point where everything changed in her head, when her best friend emerged beside him when she finally found the courage inside of herself to let Lucas in. Him, unable to hide the lengths he'd go to just be in Peyton's presence. Her confession of wanting everything followed his, he was hurt but friendship was what she needed, so he would be there for her regardless. She healed his hurts (she thinks Brooke has had a part to play in that too, but she can't help but wonder if he'd even considered becoming Brooke's boyfriend before she'd rejected his desire for everything) and now, even though it feels as if she's falling apart beneath him, he's healing her.

It's entangled.

But in knowing all this, they also knew this was all coming, she could feel it as they travelled for hours in her car; he could feel it when she flung herself in his arms, her safe haven.

Clothes are shed between them, he traces her lips, neck and when she feels his lips on her abdomen, it's like something she's never felt, and she swears her heart beats twice in that second and oh yes, there's no going back from here.

She can't stop herself, just like she couldn't stop his gaze falling on her first before his girlfriends, just like she couldn't keep going and knock him over, just like she can't stop morning from fading down to dusk.

His clothes are off, she can't help but relish the feel of muscles moving underneath his skin, her clothes are off and all that remains is his necklace.

"No need for this." He smirks.

It falls to the floor.

And they fall into each other.

The journey home is the antithesis to the journey there, tense, there should be static in the air between them. There's no music, just silence and all he can summon the strength to do is smile hopefully in her direction. She'll smile back and for a second, maybe he doesn't have a girlfriend and she hasn't betrayed the girl who has been her family for the past ten years and maybe, they're supposed to be together, it's that simple and what's meant to be will be.

But she's Peyton. Her mother died because of one mistake that she barely even thought about. Her dad is there for about forty days every year. Her ex-boyfriend barely tried to hide the fact that he couldn't commit to her even if he really wanted to. Her best friend is with the guy who Peyton wishes were her boyfriend.

What's meant to be can't be.

He can't shake the feeling of pathetic fallacy; I am such an author. He thinks and smirks, although it's the clouds that hang in the sky, the rain that's about to fall and the darkness descending on him and this girl, this girl who he wanted all along, this girl he wants and the girl he knows he'll always want beside him that gives him the feeling that this is going to be far from easy. So far from the simplicity that he felt when they both just gave in and let it happen. It was only after they finished, after two hours, when he picked that necklace from the floor that he was reminded. Lucas Scott was no coward, but his eyes welled up.

What. Had. He. Done?

And more importantly, what was going to do next?

"Peyton I –

"Don't. It was stupid, okay?" She lets this little half laugh escape her lips and his heart sinks, "You're with Brooke now." She states factually, as if it's the one fact that saves them from all of this. "We got carried away," she admits, "It didn't mean anything."

Her tone is dressed too falsely for him to believe her.

"It didn't?" Rhetorical, as ever.

"Of course it did." She replies, frankly as ever.

And it's the one shred of honesty to come from all of this. His eyes meet hers and all she can see is hope. All he can see is guilt.

Silence invades again and settles there all the way home.

He knows what he is going to do. He's going to fight for her, regardless of what that means doing or whose heart he'll step over. She was finally his, and she wasn't getting away. Not this time.

But it can't. It can't mean anything.

Brooke strides over to you both upon arrival home, she hugs you first. You hope it's something that sets the tone of things to come; she loves Lucas, but she loves you first. Always has.

You can't do this to her. Because she loves you first and you love her first.

"It's okay." She whispers in your ear, it like she knows already.

It's so very not.

Lucas hesitates to hug Brooke back and your eyes physically sting on the sight of all this. You're not this person, you just can't be.

But you are. They say it's moments like these, decisions like these, that one truly finds their character. And maybe, you're that person, the one who betrays her best friend in probably the worst way possible.

Or maybe you're the girl who fell for the broody boy too fast that before you evaluated and came to a realisation, he was gone.

How convenient, now you know he was never really gone at all.

Three days after, you take a pregnancy test. You don't make mistakes like that; you don't commit a betrayal that big and get away with it. That's just not life, and well, knowing your luck...

It's negative.

You breathe a sigh of relief, bin the pregnancy test and a smile forms on your lips.

When Brooke calls over that evening because "P Sawyer, where have you been? It's like you've disappeared off the face of the earth! Come back down now please!" You're certainly not feeling so lucky.

Any ray of optimism, gone. What you've done isn't going away, and so you resolve to salvage whatever may be left.

Brooke bounces out of your room again after reminiscing over photos and she speaks so highly of Lucas nothing can drag her down before you summon the courage to tell her.

In the parking lot, two sets of pearly white teeth scrape against each other between her giggles and his urgency to pull away and finally get to class. A brunette girl and blonde boy look so in love, it's sickening.

There's only one curly haired girl in the parking lot who knows better.

It's like a high-speed car chase on television and you can't channel surf away to something less completely doomed.

You always did have to listen to a record the whole way through. No skipping any tracks, even if they are heartbreaking.

He shuts his door, throws his bad on the floor and hopes that this evening, maybe tonight; he'll find some form of peace. Maybe even some sleep.

Who is he kidding?

In basketball practice his frustration is evident, Nathan is as commanding as ever and when Lucas is getting everything wrong, there's the chosen one getting everything right. His mind wanders so far away from what they're focusing on in class that by the time he finds his way back to reality, the bell signals the end of another period. He hasn't seen her in days, at first he thought that appropriate but he silently vowed to fight for her, so he was going to do so.

With thoughts of that, he finds himself drifting into the slumber for the first time all week.

Lying on your bed, staring into darkness, you're actually prepared to face this thing, this choice. You like the darkness; somehow its blanket makes you feel safer than the harsh beams of light. Some would call it morbid, you call it comforting. After all; being in the darkness helps one appreciate the light more.

That's when it sets in.

You can't choose Lucas over Brooke. You just can't.

It would be like Joey choosing Pacey over Dawson. Like that Doctor in some medical drama you're addicted to but can't remember all the characters names, (Mc Dreamy, you think) choosing the red head over Meredith. It just would not happen.

Except when Lucas approaches you tentatively the next morning, telling you that "I feel it in my heart, don't you?" And he kisses you and you're kissing back, you forget which one Brooke really is; the feisty, flirtatious red head or dark and twisty Meredith.

And it all becomes too apparent.

Sneaking library kisses, sneaking bench kiss, telling each other that it's going to be okay, that they'll tell Brooke together, everything about what happened, it all feels wrong. This isn't how he pictured the circumstances they'd be together in (and yes, he did picture it more than he should have).

"This being wrong...it somehow makes it feel deeper." He confesses, she can't help but silently agree.

After school, he spends the night at her place. They don't have sex this time; it still feels wrong even with the knowledge that they'd done it once and already and that would break Brooke's heart enough.

And maybe tomorrow, I'll find my way home

She's playing a record he already loves, and he has to ruin the moment by reaffirming the truth.

"We need to tell her together Peyton." He says urgently.

She nods. "Tomorrow. No running anymore."

And so after school, they tell her together and it doesn't do anything to stop the tears streaming down her perfect porcelain cheeks or anything to stop practically feeling Brooke's heart break.

They're in Brooke's room when she frantically commands Lucas to leave, he does so, eyes still on Peyton for fear of what she was about to hear. After all, this was his fault and he was the one who caused all of this, he knows it. And the tears that began forming in that motel room those weeks ago are released as he lets his head hang against the steering wheel of his car. Because now, he's lost both of them. He's lost Peyton, and that's why he angrily punches the steering wheel, full of rage, all rage that's directed at himself.

--

Brooke offers you a choice. It was all so simple in her eyes. You had cheated, she was about to give you a choice and you were going to do whatever it took to earn her forgiveness, because he was just a boy.

"As much as I hate to know what you've done to me," she begins vulnerably, "You're my best friend. That's over ten years of memories, crying and laughter. And I can't let that go over one boy."

"I can't either –

"So it's simple. Me or him." She states.

You choose Brooke. Of course you choose Brooke. She's your best friend. She was there before Lucas ever was. She's the one who knows you best.

But it was the presence of Lucas in your life that forced you to evaluate all these things in the first place, and that part scares you the most.

Just because you chose her isn't enough.

Brooke ignores you, doesn't call as often and things just can revert to how they were. It's not the same, that type of trust two friends build over years of tears, ice-cream, music and shared make-up can't be regained after something like this.

"I choose you. You forgave Lucas, why can't you forgive me, properly?" You demand to know as soon as practice ends.

"I love you more than I ever loved Lucas. Hear that Peyton, past tense." She says almost softly before you both head home.

--

It's only after that encounter in which they both finally find themselves again, and can connect.

It is six weeks and two days when Brooke really forgives Peyton.

Her arm sloops through the blonde's the way only a best friend's can – it's a Thursday morning at school and it's enough to put a grin on Peyton's face.

"Hey." The blonde greets simply, slightly taken aback by the gesture.

"Hey, noticed you can't stop staring at Lucas." She observes, slightly bitter – but she was Brooke and she did things for the greater good.

"Um –

"Peyton...I think...I think you both...should." She confesses urgently. And more than anything else, Brooke feels relief.

"What? Should elope to Vegas and marry?" Peyton replies, sarcasm in full swing, to which Brooke simply shrugs her shoulders. "You're being serious." Peyton relents as she opens her locker.

"I forgive him. I forgive you. I know it'll be weird at first but...what's meant to be will be anyway. So why delay?"

This is why Peyton loves Brooke. She knows her better than she knows herself, and her spontaneity has what it takes to turn an average day into a great day.

School has ended, summer has just started and the first thing you come home to is a letter from him addressed to you and Brooke.

You open it without her. It's been weeks since you and Lucas even discussed something real and you feel the need to have him, if only in written form.

It basically outlines his hopes of wanting to become a better person, for you, Peyton, he writes and she stuffs it in her leather jacket and drives the comet faster to his house than anywhere she's ever driven before.

She runs two red lights.

He's still in his room, packing in his things.

You enter tentatively, Karen and Keith are nowhere to be found and it's just you and him, beams of light breaking the darkness.

"Wow," you begin, "Well, I'm okay with you moving into my place I just would've liked some notice, ya know?" You smile. He laughs softly. If only.

"You read it." He states factually.

"I did." You confirm.

"I...I'm not good enough for you right now –

"But you are." His eyes widen at this and you smile, your eyes cast down to the floor shyly before you let them lock with his again. You take his hand, "Lucas I don't wanna wait. Not now, not ever. My best friend forgives me, she forgives us. That has to mean something."

"It means everything." He says, "But is now the right time? Look at us Peyton we're –

"No more ready than what we ever will be. This is it Luke. You stay now and I'll always stay. You go and you'll just be another person who leaves. This is it right now, what do you choose?" You astound yourself at your own honesty; you're glad that you've regained that back.

"If I stay," he says tightly, "I'll never leave you."

Their hands intertwined, she tells him that he's just given her the perfect answer.

And she captures his lips with hers, his lets his hands flow through the curls and she lets him in fully. No walls.

No entanglements, they are free.

What's meant to be; will be.

End.