Title: Simpatico
Pairing: Breyton, Leyton, Brucas
Rating: Uhm. PG, I guess? I'm never good at this.
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I'm not the owner or originator.
Summary: Peyton ponders love with a bottle of booze and Brooke joins her on the beach.
Spoilers/Warnings: Breyton. That means f/f. So. Y'know. And angst, cause let's face it, it's OTH, when isn't there angst?
Author's Notes: No beta so all mistakes are mine. (also, simpatico as I mention it is a reference to Wonderfalls which is an absolutely amazing, dearly departed tv show. Simpatico is an easy understanding, a connection and mutual agreeability that is easy and just there from the beginning. It is a beautiful thing when you find it, and it makes you wonder how you survived without it.)
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How much you matter to him wavers, directly proportional to the amount of times you don't meet his eyes because it hurts too much. It bothers you, that the more you both hurt, the more he wants you. You think love shouldn't be like that. Love shouldn't hold you back in this disgusting muck of pain and betrayal.
You wonder why you've all turned out this way, why you've all wrapped this blanket of love filled with burrs and barbed wires all over yourselves and started wading through the water. It makes no sense you think. Why are you all persisting in this struggle that's ruining everything in its wake?
You want to scream and hit him for doing this to you. You and Brooke were strong and safe before him. Nothing got between you. Then he wormed his weaslly little way into both of your hearts, captured you both with broody looks and deep words and eyes that looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. Except you weren't, neither of you were. Both of you were, or weren't. This should have tipped you off early on. It didn't.
You hate yourself for wondering why Brooke went after Lucas in the first place when she already knew you wanted him. It was so unlike her. So was falling in love with him for her, it made her just like every other girl in his life. He wormed his way in, he made mistakes and broke hearts and they always forgave him and ended up the same. It was a vicious cycle, and you're tired of it.
You're sitting on the beach, bottle in hand, pain and love on the brain. You hear the soft footsteps of a drunk person approaching, and if you didn't know it was Brooke, you'd have sent them packing. As is, you just let her sit next to you. She leans into you and sighs.
"How did this happen?" She's looking for the same answers as you apparently. She usually is, you're good like that.
"I don't know, Brooke. I want it to stop though. It's just...pain now." You can feel the defeat in her bones through your clothes and you marvel again at the connection you have to each other. It's easy, in ways that no one will ever be able to compare to.
"I thought love was supposed to be easy, Peyton. Not all this...crap." She gesticulates wildly, and you smile. Brooke always was able to make you laugh hysterically in the middle of heartbreak, and you kind of realize that you probably wouldn't be where you are, if you were anywhere at all if it wasn't for her and this skill of hers.
"Maybe it is." You muse softly and drape an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. You take a swig of alcohol and wonder if maybe this is it.
"Lucas isn't easy. He's messy like a soppy Taco Bell taco dropped with a soda on some fat lady's floral print." You laugh and kiss the top of her head, pushing away the worry with another sip of alcohol when she stiffens just a little bit, almost imperceptibly at that small little kiss.
"We aren't." It's true, factual. Your tone is calm and impeccable, and you mentally award yourself points. You're so nervous you feel like you should be shaking hard enough to cause a small earthquake, but either you aren't shaking or Brooke is shaking right along with you. She pulls away from you, looks you in your eyes and thinks for a moment.
"We aren't, are we?" You smile slightly and shrug a little.
"Only when Lucas gets his grubby little paws in one of us." She makes an ick face and you want to kiss her. You do, because you're drunk and you don't really have a reason not to. She's surprised for a moment, but then she's there with you and it's beautiful and easy and perfect and all the things Lucas never is or was and you never want it to stop. It does though, and you both breathe in the salt of the ocean and this new knowledge. You like it, you think.
"We aren't." Simpatico, you think. You forget where exactly you learned that term and how it meant you and Brooke but you know it fits. Just like she does against your body. You spend a few more hours leaning against each other, basking in the comfort and ease between you and working things out in your brains. You don't really need words, like Lucas, they just make things more complicated.