Noah expected Luke to follow and keep up. He shot through amber lights, cornered quickly; didn't make it easy for him. He parked and ran through the sheets of rain until he was sheltered by the lit entrance to his apartment block.

His body shivered, whether from the damp or from Luke's approach through the darkness he wasn't sure. He just knew he resented the way his heart still raced for this person; the instinct he had to wrap his arms around Luke and chase away the goose-bumps he could see rising on his skin. The cavernous desire he had to be himself again; normal.

"This is your block?" Luke asked conversationally as soon as he was close enough. "It's nice."

Ignoring him Noah used his entry fob and pushed the large glass door open after an electronic voice said, "Please enter."

He waited; pressing his back against the glass door both to hold it open and to reduce the chance of Luke brushing him as he past.

Luke scanned the smart lobby interior; turning to say something to Noah only to be virtually bowled over by him as he barrelled past.

Someone had caught his eye.

"Hey!" Noah yelled running down a nearby corridor after the small balding man trying to make his escape. "You can't run from me Mr. Bennett! I've already seen you!"

The building's supervisor unlocked and entered a door at the end of the corridor; almost managing to close it on the angry tenant. But Noah inserted one foot in the way.

Regardless the scared little man continued in his attempts to slam the door closed.

"I'll call the police!" Bennett stuttered, double chin wobbling, "I'm warning you, I will!"

"You do that!" Noah replied, fighting to gain entrance, "I'd love to tell them all about the health and safety violations in this block!"

"You can hardly call a faulty faucet a danger to your health."

"I'm not just talking about my faucet Mr. Bennett! What about the fire escape and - "

"Noah?"

His name on those lips pulled Noah's attention from Mr. Bennett instantly.

Luke stood right beside him, the shocked browns frowning in disappointment, "You're scaring him."

"What? No I..." Noah gazed a few times between Luke and the supervisor and the breath blew from his body.

He stepped away, swaying slightly, almost giving in to the shame before fighting the tendency and stoically settling his stance.

"Don't make me ask again." He told Bennett almost in a growl, "You understand?"

The small man nodded vigorously and sighed in relief as Noah left; stomping up the corridor and pressing the call button for the lift.

When he looked back Luke was staring in contemplation at the now closed door of the supervisor's apartment. Luke remained that way right up until the elevator pinged and only then turned to face his ex.

"You coming?" Noah asked, stepping into the elevator and pressing down hard on the arrowed button that would hold the door open.

For a moment Noah wondered whether Luke would join him. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he waited. It felt like an hour passed as he stood there.

Eventually, shaking, he gave up and released the button, watching as the doors began to slide toward each other. They had less than a foot left to go when Luke's hand shot through the gap activating the safety sensors so that the doors slid back open.

Noah had to look at the floor to hide his relief.

It was deadly silent and strained in the small space as they rose to Noah's floor. Both men looked forward, lost in their own thoughts.

...

Noah's key in the lock must have alerted his neighbour to their presence because just as he opened the door, Mrs Baxter, a retired pensioner and the bane of Noah's life, stuck her head out from the opposite apartment.

"Young man," she croaked, eying Luke with interest, "you were playing that racket of yours too loudly again last night."

Noah sensed Luke's eyebrows rise.

"Now I know you heard me knocking." The old lady continued, "I don't think it's too much to ask that you respect-"

Noah turned quickly to interrupt, "Yes Mrs Baxter, it won't happen again."

"That's what you told me all the other times."

The part of him that wanted to feel bad for her; the part of him that knew it was wrong; throbbed at the sad look on her face. But she didn't understand. Sometimes he just needed it. Like right now would be good. Loud music and coffee.

He entered the apartment and waited for the frowning Luke to join him.

"I don't know who you are," Mrs Baxter called after Luke, perhaps taking note of his puckered brown, "but maybe you can talk some sense into him."

Noah quickly closed the door and before Luke could speak pointed in the direction of his bedroom, "Um… shower's through there. Towels are in the closet. You can loan a pair of sweats and a shirt, just leave your clothes out by the door and I'll pop them in the dryer."

"What about you?" Luke asked.

"I'll wait for you."

Their eyes locked on those words and it was obvious Luke wanted to say something but he held back. He nodded and left dejectedly for the bathroom.

...

Noah entered his bedroom with caution, even though he didn't expect Luke to be there. He could hear the water running in the en-suite shower from the kitchen.

Opening the dresser he withdrew a folded pair of dark grey sweats and an old faded Chicago Bears t-shirt, placing them neatly on the bed. That was the easy part. His attention fell to the pile of wet clothes discarded near the bathroom door. A grey designer suit and bottle green shirt; not the typical uniform of the boy Noah remembered. That boy was from the farm and comfortable only in jeans and a striped t-shirt.

The anger boiled again. This was Reid's Luke.

His aim was to pile up the clothes and get them to the dryer as fast as possible, but the moment he bent and touched them, wet but still warm from Luke's body, he froze. He smoothed the shirts collar between thumb and forefinger, standing straight up and bringing the soft cotton with him.

Entranced, one palm came to lie flat against the bathroom door while the other brought the shirt up to his nose. His eyes fluttered shut at the intense smell of spice and country; strong and masculine. His breath shuddered as he exhaled; his heart raced.

He heard the water displacement as Luke moved around in the shower; pictured the Luke shaped outline behind the frosted glass and as he listened, he heard something else.

Opening his eyes he stared and frowned at the door, leaning sideways to press his ear against the wood; just as he pressed his palm.

Deep, pulsing sobs muffled by the water.

Noah jumped back as though the door were on fire, dropping the shirt to the floor and shaking his head.

Luke still captivated him in a way no other ever had. He still longed for him, desired him, loved him. Noah's heart clenched at the sound of those sobs. Luke lingered deep inside and no matter what Noah did to try and forget it was impossible.

He sniffed back the strong impulse to open the door and hold Luke, wet and slippery in his arms. Instead he snatched at the clothing on the floor, running to the kitchen so he could fling them in the dryer and slam it shut. He fumbled clumsily with the dial, set it to warm dry, and leaned back against the machine as it began its vibrations. Hands gripped his shoulders; his own sleeves still wet and cold from the rain. Staring at the tiles on the floor he hugged his chest and tried to calm his racing senses; fight the tears.

After everything they'd been to each other, how did they end up here? In the same place yet mountains and raging rivers apart.

His body shook as he turned to make coffee; hoping this task would ground him somehow.

He lifted the glass jug from the shelf above the kettle. Noah didn't go for the typical 'drip brew' method favoured by most household coffee makers. No way! To him, making coffee was a process that took time and the 'French press' method trumped the machine any day of the week.

He let the water sit for a while after it boiled. If you tried to rush, the water would burn the coffee and ruin the result.

Once ready, he pulled the plunger all the way to the top and then set the timer on his watch so that it brewed for four minutes exactly. He concentrated all thought on the second hand ticking the time away.

Finally and very slowly, he began to push the plunger all the way back down, but his hand was shaking too much. The weight of the day hit him in full force and, frustrated, he pressed the plunger fast to the bottom; staring as the liquid swirled a black-brown whirlpool within the glass jug.

That was where Luke found him. He shuffled into the kitchen in the outfit Noah picked out for him; hair still wet and framing his face in waves.

Luke being Luke made no attempt to hide the evidence of his crying. As Noah lifted his gaze he found himself immersed in bloodshot brown; pools of fresh tears already threatening to fall from the bottom lid.

Nothing was said; Luke studied him and eventually Noah couldn't take it anymore.

"What?" he pleaded.

The brown eyes searched Noah's face, "You're different."

Noah's throat felt dry and it hurt to swallow, "Yeah, well, it's been two years Luke. People change."

A tear bounced as it fell, landing in the cleft of Luke's lips before dropping from his chin.

"Did I do this to you?" As he whispered the question he blinked a few times and more droplets glistened down each cheek. "The way you were with those people… it…"

Noah couldn't speak without cracking so he just stood there; still hugging arms into himself; shaking his head.

"When I couldn't find you," Luke continued, "I hoped that at least, wherever you were, you were…"

"What? Happy?" Noah almost laughed at that. The anger was back now. "Why are you even here Luke? Were you following me?"

Luke, stung by Noah's coarseness, took a while to compose himself.

"Yes." He admitted finally. "I had a meeting at the studio. I didn't know you worked there, honest."

Comprehension dawned. It was Luke who met Jagad about the new project.

"I was getting into my rental in the parking lot and I saw you. There wasn't time for me to catch you before you drove off so I followed. It wasn't easy. You were driving pretty fast and-"

"So what? Are you his pimp now too?"

The attack was sudden and Luke blanched.

"Noah it's not…" his voice broke and he visibly swallowed, "Look, Reid and I-"

"I don't want to hear about you and Reid!"

"But-"

"I mean it Luke!"

Luke glanced at the floor, scratching behind one ear.

"You know," he said, sniffing, "when I arrived in LA I wondered what I'd do if I bumped into you; if I saw you on the street or at the beach or something. Obviously I knew that was crazy. Los Angeles is a big city after all. Chances of that happening are a million to one. But still, I thought about it often and… this isn't how I hoped it would go."

Noah leaned back into the counter, gripping the edge with his fingers until they turned white.

When he didn't say anything Luke sighed, "You haven't had any coffee today, have you?"

Noah's eyes widened with surprise. Something in Luke's essence softened him, melted some of the frost round his heart.

"I ruined it." He replied gently. "I ruined it all."

If it were possible, Luke's eyes saddened even further. Glimpsing the small French press sitting abandoned on the counter behind Noah he walked over, lifting the lid to smell the liquid. He grimaced.

Silently he turned on the kettle, stepped to the sink and decanted the spoiled coffee, taking a moment to rinse out the jug.

"I'll fix it."

Noah watched in amazement as Luke followed Noah's exact method for making the perfect mug of brew; every step perfection. Noah memorised every flex of muscle, every wave of his hair, every expression as Luke performed the ritual; slowly pushing the plunger to the bottom; lifting the lid to once again smell and test the quality. This time he closed his eyes; an indication he was pleased with the result. Reaching up he removed a mug from the shelf and proceeded to fill it from the jug.

This he brought over to Noah, holding it out to him by the handle like a peace offering. Noah stared at it for a moment, only taking the mug in both hands when Luke gestured he must.

Noah watched him over the rim of the mug as he took a sip. The brew was smooth, strong and perfect. Noah closed his eyes; inhaling the scent and letting the caffeine jolt sooth the shake from his soul.

"Feel better?" Luke asked.

Noah could only nod.

The dryer pinged like a toll of death and they both jumped. Noah began to panic.

He watched the blonde open the dryer door; remove his clothing.

"If you don't mind I'll go back to my hotel in these clothes. I can have them sent back to you later."

Noah balanced nervously from one foot to the other; trying to figure out how to make Luke stay.

"I was stupid to think… I'll just go…"

He was halfway out the kitchen door when Noah asked the first thing to come into his head, "How?"

"What?" It was anxious and as he turned Luke's eyes were pleading to stay.

"How did you hope it would go?" Noah bit on his lower lip. This was risky. This could end badly.

Luke took a step closer, "I hoped that I'd find you living your life."

Noah paused for a long moment as he considered this, trying to reconcile the words in his head.

"You're my life." Said simply, honestly, obviously.

A tiny cry escaped Luke's lips and, as much as it hurt Noah in its pure anguish, a spark of possibility, thin like a ray of sun, broke through the darkness inside.

"I hoped," Luke continued cautiously. Whatever he needed to say was hard and he drew a deep breath, "I hoped you'd want to hold me, because, because… maybe you missed me as much as I…"

"I did." It was whispered under his breath. Putting himself out there was difficult and Noah was out of practice.

"What?"

"I did want to hold you. I do miss you."

The clothing dropped from Luke's fingers.