Lucas wakes up when Peyton starts kissing him.
Not at all a rude awakening, if you ask him.
"OK...that's..."
"Hi," she says, smiling down at him as she sits, straddling his lap.
"Hi." He takes a deep breath and plants his hands on her hips. "Time is it?"
He's so cute all groggy and disoriented, and she can't help but giggle at him as she looks at the clock.
"5:30."
"Reservations in an hour," he tells her, and she leans down to kiss him again, brushing against him in all the right places. "Go get ready."
"I call bathroom," she says excitedly, getting off him and grabbing the bag from the store she'd gone to that day.
He just shakes his head as she bounds off towards the bathroom door. He thinks it is adorable that she thought he'd steal the bathroom from her. He may not be the brightest guy when it comes to women, but he isn't that stupid.
He stretches, looks outside, then rises from the bed and begins changing. He pulls his new clothes from the bag - just a pair of black pants, a light blue shirt, and a black tie. He realizes it's probably crazy of him to get ready so soon, since she'll probably take ages, but he fully intends on turning on the television and waiting for her, no matter how long she takes.
He knows it'll be worth it.
Peyton spends a half hour styling her hair and doing her makeup, then steps into the dress she bought. She really feels like they've been away for ages. She takes in her appearance in the mirror before her, and she sees how much lighter her hair looks, and how much darker her skin is. She notices how her eyes seem a little brighter, and her smile seems a little wider.
She's in love.
She needlessly runs her hands over her stomach, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her dress, and takes a deep breath. She doesn't know why, but she's afraid of what his reaction will be. Since she returned to Tree Hill, Lucas has seen her in just about anything, but for some reason, it's when she's put in the effort that she's nervous.
She steps into the room to see him sitting at the end of the bed, and she immediately steals his attention from the baseball game on the television.
"Whoa," he mutters.
He stands from his place as he looks her up and down. The dark green dress is everything he could have hoped for. It hits her just above the knee, with a strapless sweetheart neckline. It's tight through the body and it's just...She's perfect.
"Amazing," he says, resting his hands on her hips and brushes his lips against hers. "You're incredible."
"Thank you," she says softly. Her heart beats against her rib cage when he brushes the hair from her face. "You look...really, really good."
"You make it so easy," he almost whispers, shaking his head. He closes his eyes and she runs her thumb over his cheekbone. She has no idea what he's saying.
"What?" she asks, looking at him quizzically.
The answer is right there on the tip of his tongue. You make it easy to love you. She's as graceful and elegant and beautiful as she is stubborn and hardheaded and infuriating. He adores that. He loves it all. It's all the craziness - all the intensity - that makes her so perfect for him.
"To want you," he says. He's not sure why he doesn't say what he so desperately wants to say.
She just smiles and kisses him, then takes his hand and they walk to the door.
They walk narrow streets to the French restaurant Lucas picked. He holds the door for her, and those butterflies are back. She feels like a teenager. She feels like this is their first date. She feels like they didn't just leave the same hotel room after napping together, and they won't go back to that hotel room together after their evening out.
He pulls out her chair and kisses her temple before moving to his own, and she chooses the wine they'll have - a Bordeaux she claims to love. She laughs at the glare he shoots the waiter who's obviously smitten with her, and she takes Lucas' hand across the table, wordlessly reassuring him.
He realizes that he'll have to deal with that sort of thing as long as he's with her. He hopes that's a really long time.
"This is nice," she says, somewhere between the main course and dessert.
"It is nice," he agrees before taking a sip of his wine.
"Ooo. You know what place I love," she says, a glimmer of something he recognizes as excitement in her eyes. "Martino's at Wrightsville."
"Never been," he says nonchalantly, laughing when her jaw drops. She looks at him as though that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever said to her.
"I can't believe that! Best Italian food in North Carolina," she says, leaving no room for argument. "We'll go sometime."
He can't help but smile. They'll go sometime. They'll go, because they're a couple. Or they're close to a couple. They're something more than just friends. They'll go to dinners and have dates and hold hands across the table. They'll go to her house or his house afterward and spend the night together.
Together.
She steals bites of his cheesecake, but won't let him take bites of her chocolate mousse, and he playfully scowls at her, but they both know he's not really bothered. They finish their bottle of wine and Lucas pays the cheque, though Peyton argues with him again. He tells her he's not the kind of guy to let his girl pay for the first date, and she smiles and rolls her eyes at him.
He follows her out of the restaurant, and the whole time, he's wondering how in the hell he's found a girl so hot. Her hips sway, and there's a ringlet resting on her shoulder blade that he wants to push aside with his hand so he can kiss her bare skin like he knows she loves.
She's driving him crazy, and she has absolutely no idea.
"Come here," he says, taking her hand and pulling her towards him. His back is to the wall of a building next to the restaurant they just walked out of, and he pulls her against him.
"Lucas," she says, admonishing how brazen he's being.
There are people walking down the street and staring at them, but he doesn't seem to care. They his hands grip her hips a little tighter, and she kind of stops caring, too. He leans forward and kisses her, moving his hand up her back to tangle in her hair and pull her even closer.
"This is so crazy," he mutters, brushing his nose against hers.
"What?" she asks breathlessly, pulling away from him a bit.
"This. Us." He trails his hands down her arms and loosely grips her wrists. "Finally."
"Yeah," she says with a smile. "It's kind of hard to believe."
"Only because you're so...you, and I'm..."
"Stop it," she said, pulling herself from his hold and looking to the ground.
He just shakes his head and wraps his arm around her waist as they continue down the sidewalk. She tells him she wants to find a great jazz club and sip martinis and listen to music, and cuddle up to one another in a corner booth. He honestly can't find anything wrong with that picture.
They find an underground little place and when they step inside, they see that there are only about 10 other people there. Peyton looks at Lucas and wiggles her eyebrows, and he really doesn't know what that means, but he thinks it might be just the cutest thing he's ever seen.
He orders scotch, and she gets a gin martini, and they sit as close to one another as they can get. They're both buzzing from the alcohol they've had, and all she wants to do is tell him she loves him. She's toying with the fabric of his tie with one hand as she finishes her drink with the other, and before she can gather the courage to speak, he's got her hand in his and he's leading her to the dance floor.
"Luke," she hisses. "What are you doing."
"Dancing," he answers simply.
The trio starts playing an old jazz standard he's heard before, but can't name, and he holds her closely as they move together. She sighs deeply and plays with the hair at the back of his neck, and he really hopes she'll want to leave soon. It's not that he doesn't love dancing with her - he certainly enjoys the proximity, and how he can smell the subtle notes of her perfume - but she's almost too close, and she almost smells too good.
"One more drink?" she suggests as the song comes to a close. They're still dancing together, and his thumb is still caressing the skin between her thumb and forefinger.
"Sure," he says, smiling at her. The band starts in on another slow song, and Lucas merely nods to the bartender, who starts fixing two more drinks for them.
"Are you gonna let me go now?" Peyton says teasingly.
"No," he insists, shaking his head. She rolls her eyes and tries to look away, but he leans forward and kisses her.
He has no intentions of letting her go, and they both realize that his one word answer to her simple question has more than just one meaning.
She slips her hand into his as they're walking back to their hotel, and he kisses the top of her head when she rests it against his shoulder. He almost wishes they were at home in their little town, so he could show her off to people who actually know the both of them.
But he knows that being in Tree Hill will bring a whole new variable into their relationship. Gossip.
And he just doesn't think he's ready for that yet. Neither of them are.
He opens the door to their room, and she steps inside and kicks off her heels. She runs her fingers through her hair, and he's this close to rushing towards her and peeling her out of that dress. As much as he loves it, he knows he loves what's underneath more.
"That was a really good date," she says, smiling as she tugs his tie to bring him closer to her.
"Oh, it's not over," he growls right before he kisses her.
Best first date ever.
----
The following evening, after a long, hot, tiring day of walking through New Orleans, Peyton wakes Lucas up at midnight, claiming they need to do laundry.
And there's the rude awakening.
"What?" he asks gruffly. "Laundry?"
"Yeah. Laundromats are the best at night," she explains, getting up from the bed and tossing their dirty clothes into the laundry bag in their hotel room.
"I don't want to."
"Stop being a baby and get up," she demands, putting her hand on her hip.
"It's late. I want to sleep," he says, rolling onto his side and pulling the covers up to his chin.
"Lucas, come on. It'll be fun!" She sits next to him on the bed and feathers her fingers through his hair, with just soothes him and makes him take a deep breath. She knows he'll go to sleep any minute.
"No."
"OK. Well, I'll just go alone then," she says with a shrug and a devious smile. "I'll be back in a bit."
And her little ploy has the desired effect.
He sits up in bed and lets out a groan before running his hand over his face. There's no way he's going to let her go anywhere alone at this late hour.
"Well played," he grumbles.
She leans over and kisses him before he stands and reaches for his sweats and a tee shirt. He notices she's already dressed, and she smirks at him when he looks her up and down and glares at her. He really, really hates this. He really, really loves sleep.
But he takes the bag of their things from her and slings it over his shoulder as they start out of their room and down the hall. They walk the few blocks to a 24 hour laundromat, and Peyton begins moving around like a pro. Lucas takes a seat in the chair across from where she's standing, slouching like he's more exhausted than he's ever been.
"You know, I've never actually used a laundromat before?" Lucas asks as Peyton sorts their darks and lights.
She stops what she's doing immediately, and looks at him with a blank expression on her face. "You've never used a laundromat?"
"No," he says with a shrug. "Mom always did my laundry. Then our house at school had a machine, then I moved back to Tree Hill and mom gave me the house."
"Weird."
"Why is that weird?" he asks, standing again and moving towards her.
"Because you're 23, and you've never used a laundromat!" she says with a laugh. "You're so sheltered in your small town."
"Hey," he says, pointing at her as he squints. "I love that small town."
"Aww," she says softly, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling him close. "I know you do." She leans forward and kisses him gently. "But it's still weird."
She goes back to the task at hand, and Lucas goes back to his seat, and he knows he should be helping her instead of just sitting there, but...well, she's the one who woke him up, and she's the one with all the energy. He wishes he was still sleeping.
She knows this is the segue she needs. This is the moment to bring up going home soon. She's afraid to do it, and she's afraid of what he'll say, but she wants to let him know what she's thinking.
"So...speaking of that little town," she says softly, turning so she's looking at him. "When do you want to go back?"
"I dunno," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulder. "Haven't really thought about it."
She tilts her head to the side and looks at him imploringly, and they both know she's caught him in a lie.
"I'm...this week has been amazing, but we can't just...stay away," she rationalizes.
"Can't we?" he challenges.
"OK," she says, moving to sit next to him. "I was under the impression that this was an impulsive road trip, and that we'd kind of play it by ear. Now I'm starting to think you're running."
"Running?" he asks incredulously.
"Don't you miss it? Sleeping in your own bed and playing ball on the River Court? Your family?" she inquires with a soft smile, letting her hand fall to his thigh.
"Of course," he says, placing his hand over hers. "I just want it to be you and I for a while."
"That's...very sweet," she says, and he smiles. "But we'll be together in Tree Hill, too."
He knows he needs to tell her the real reason he wants to stay gone. He needs to tell her that he's afraid that little town will tear them apart if they aren't strong enough to fight back against everything that's going to come at them.
"It'll be too hard," he tells her. "It'll be...it'll be really hard."
She almost can't believe what she's hearing. He's told her he's falling in love with her, and now he's telling her it's too hard to be together? They've had these amazing days together, and had great conversation. They've found each other again.
But there's a little voice in the back of her head that's telling her she should have seen it coming. She should have known it wouldn't all be so simple.
And she's pissed off.
"What? So out here where it's easy, you want to be with me, but when we get home, you're not sure?" she asks. She's well aware she's putting words in his mouth and exaggerating. But really, isn't that how most arguments go?
"I didn't say that! I just don't think you understand what it's going to be like," Lucas says, trying to be rational.
"I..."
"You were her best friend, and I was her boyfriend," he reminds her needlessly. Of course, this is about Brooke. "Not to mention, this is all a little familiar."
"Are you seriously bringing that up right now?" she asks irately. She moves away from him a little more before standing and taking a step back. "I can't believe you'd compare high school to this!"
"Peyton, it's a small town. Everyone knows about our past," he tells her. He realizes it probably wasn't the smartest thing to say when she narrows her eyes at him and shakes her head.
"Well then what are we doing?" She raises her shoulders and drops them dramatically, and he can see the tears in her eyes.
And he hates himself for that.
"You don't understand what I'm saying," he says calmly, standing and taking her hands in his. "I just wanted us to be...stronger when we go back, because it's not going to be easy."
"I didn't expect it to be easy. I don't," she assures him. "I just...I love you, Lucas."
Her voice is soft and a tear has fallen, and he wastes no time moving towards her and wrapping his arms around her.
He's been wanting to say it, and wanting to hear it, since the first day of their little trip.
Or - as they've kept saying - maybe since the beginning.
He kisses her before she can move away from him, or take the words back, and he thinks they've just had the stupidest argument in the history of arguments. They both want the same thing. They want to be together. It shouldn't matter where they are or who's talking about them. It doesn't matter.
And he finds it hilarious and somehow so very fitting that their first I love you's are being said in the middle of the night, in the middle of an empty laundromat, in the middle of New Orleans.
"I love you, too," he says softly, tucking a curl behind her ear. She shakes her head like she doesn't believe him, or like she wants to argue. "Peyton, I love you. I do. I don't care where we are. I lo..."
He's cut off when she presses her lips to his again and she snakes her arms around his torso. He's not so tired anymore, but they're definitely not in the right place to do what he now really wants to do.
And his own words are ringing in his ears. He doesn't care where they are. He really doesn't. Why should he? He's a grown man, and it's been three years since Brooke died. And really? It's none of anyone's business anyway. Just because it's a small town and everyone likes to think they know him, that doesn't mean they're entitled to have an opinion on his love life.
"Let's go home," he says once they've parted again. "Tomorrow. We'll drive back."
"Lucas, I didn't mean..."
"No, you're right," he insists. "You're right. I was scared of what would happen when we went back, but...I dunno." He shrugs his shoulder and smiles at her, knowing she'll understand his next statement. "It's not so scary anymore."
"I missed you," she whispers after kissing him softly again.
He knows, somehow, that she feels like he's himself again. He's shed that dark weight and hurt, and he's the boy - now man - she fell in love with when they were still kids. He's caring and gentle. He treats her well and does what's best for her, and he looks out for her and takes care of her. He smiles more, and his eyes sparkle a little bit.
He's Lucas again. He's her Lucas again.
He kind of missed that, too.
"I missed you," he echoes. He wipes the tears from her cheeks and they smile at each other.
And he really has no clue how he waited that long to tell her; how he didn't tell her when he was 16 and feeling that love for the first time.
He supposes that just wasn't their journey.
Sure, this journey has been filled with heartache and pain and longing and just raw hurt, but it's theirs. It's theirs, and it's what they needed to bring them back together, and so he'll take it. He'll take the years of uncertainty and anger, because they give him Peyton.
As she sits next to him and they wait for their laundry, she rests her head on his shoulder and weaves her fingers through his. He realizes that maybe she's all he really ever wanted anyway.
----
"Lucas," Peyton sings, trying to wake him up.
She's opened the blinds just a crack, and so there is just a sliver of light coming into the room. It's nearly noon, and she'd had the foresight to call and request a late checkout. She'd woken up in a panic at 7:00 a.m., and called the front desk. When she and Lucas got back after their trip to the laundromat they didn't exactly go to sleep right away. It was closing in on 4:00 a.m. when they finally succumbed to slumber.
And now, it seems Lucas is dead to the world.
"Lucas," she tries again.
"Hmph."
"Luke, wake up." she pleads, tracing the line of his jaw with her knuckle.
"Tired."
"I know, but we need to check out in an hour," she explains, smiling at him when he finally opens his eyes.
"You're killing me," he groans. "You kept me up too late."
"Honey, you weren't complaining," she says seductively, reminding him of facts he's already very aware of.
"I want coffee," he says, pouting like a little boy in a way she won't deny is just adorable.
"The sooner you get up, the sooner we get coffee," she tells him, rolling away from him.
She sets her feet on the floor, stands, and stretches her arms over her head.
He's wide awake now.
It was a mean trick. She's a tease, but he kind of likes it. If she stands like that, all naked with glowing, radiant skin, and perfect body, and starts walking away from him, he'll certainly get out of bed and follow her.
"You're playing dirty, Sawyer," he grumbles, throwing back the sheets.
She disappears into the bathroom and closes the door, and she laughs when he pushes the door open and scowls at her. She turns on the water for a shower, and she really wants to tell him they can't get caught up with each other or they'll be in trouble with the front desk, but then he kisses that spot on her neck and his fingertips dance along her bare skin, and she's already falling again.
----
"That was the best omelet I've ever had," Peyton insists, taking a sip from a chipped mug at a little diner just outside New Orleans.
"Clearly, you haven't tasted mine yet," Lucas says confidently, resting his elbows on the table.
"Well, maybe you can cook for me one morning," she murmurs, leaning over the table and pressing her lips to his.
The waitress clears her throat and throws Peyton an admonishing glare as she sets their bill on the table, then winks at Lucas before she walks away.
Peyton doesn't like that one bit. Lucas can't say he hates the irritated and, dare he say, possessive, look on her face.
"Calm down," he tells her, and she opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. "We're leaving in five minutes, Peyton. Don't start a brawl."
"I should kick her ass," she grumbles, looking in the direction of the other woman again.
"If you're going to fight someone, could you pick someone young and hot, not someone...old and...her." He chuckles when Peyton's eyes go wide and her jaw drops. "What?"
"Be nice."
"30 seconds ago, you were about to give her a black eye!" he reminds her, dropping his credit card onto the table.
"Whatever," she scoffs, though they both know he's right. "Can we go?"
"Have to pay first."
"Or...we could not," she says softly, her eyes shining and a devious smirk on her lips.
"No," he says firmly. "No way."
"Come on! What's life without a little danger?" she taunts him, reaching for her purse and slinging it over her arm.
"I'm not getting arrested in Louisiana just because you want a little excitement," he says with a chuckle. "Go. I'll be out in a minute. I mean, unless you want to make sure I don't run off with Betsy, the sexy waitress."
"OK, ew," she groans as she stands from her place.
"Yeah, I know," he says with a laugh, scrunching his face. "I kinda grossed myself out with that one."
"Serves you right," she states.
She sees the waitress walking back towards the table, so Peyton leans down, rests her hand on the side of Lucas' face, and kisses him far more passionately than she ever should in a public place. Lucas moans from low in his throat, and his hand clumsily finds her upper arm. He knows they're at a run down diner, and there are people watching, but he doesn't know much more than that. He's pretty much dead to anything that isn't this beautiful girl who seems so insistent on proving her point.
Peyton pulls away when they're both breathless, and she sees the satisfied - albeit confused - look on her boyfriend's face. She moves her lips to his ear, gently nibbling his earlobe before she speaks seductively.
"I don't think you'll be running off with her."
Good Lord, he loves her.
She chuckles and pats his cheek gently as he takes a deep breath, and then he turns to watch her walk out of the diner and to the car. He draws stares and glares from the other patrons of the restaurant, and all he can really do is smile gently.
The waitress regards him with icy composure as she hands him back his card and receipt, but for good measure, he leaves her a large tip. He gets a nod from a guy about his age as he walks towards the door, and he knows the other man is showing his appreciation that Lucas is with the beautiful girl who just put on that little show.
He almost can't believe it himself.
He gets outside to where Peyton's standing with a roadmap spread out on the hood of his car. Her faded jeans and black halter top don't quite meet in the middle, and her hair is haphazardly swept up, a few loose pieces falling onto her back.
He walks up behind her and puts his hands on her hips as he presses his chest to her back, startling her momentarily until she realizes it's him. She relaxes into him a little bit, and he places a few kisses to her neck and shoulder.
"You have no idea how fucking sexy you are," he states. Her only response is a throaty moan, and a little disappointed whine when he stops pressing his lips to her skin.
"Hey, Luke?" She turns in his arms, and wraps hers around his torso.
"Hmm?" he manages, though his eyes are fixed solely on her lips.
"Let's go home."
He smiles, nods his head, and kisses her gently before opening the car door for her.
Going home with her now somehow seems like the most brilliant thing she's ever suggested.
She's clicking through her iPod for 'the perfect music', as she's done just about every time they get in the car, and when she settles on Marc Broussard - a Louisiana native, as she tells Lucas - and they listen to a song called Home as they pull onto the highway.
"Hey, Peyt?" Lucas takes his eyes off the road momentarily when she looks over at him. "We're gonna be OK. You and me."
She weaves her fingers through his and leans over to kiss his cheek.
"I know we are," she whispers, kicking off her flip flops and setting her feet on the dash.
He really can't remember what he was so scared about. He loves this girl, and she loves him back, and nothing else in the world is bigger than that.
She's got her eyes closed when he says those three words, and she smiles, but doesn't look over at him when she says them back. He squeezes her hand and flips his sunglasses down over his eyes. With his hand on the wheel and his girl by his side, it all seems pretty simple.
