Sound of Her Voice

By Alaricnomad

Chapter Seven: In a Child's Eyes

He watched her. He couldn't help himself.

He was hesitating in the doorway leading into the living room, suddenly dumbstruck by the sight presented to him as he sought to make his way into the room. Peyton Sawyer had an armful of baby, Keith Michael squealing with pleasure as she tickled him. Peyton herself was grinning, her fingers gently but mercilessly playing over the little boy's sides. Eventually, he made a discontented whimper indicating he had had enough and she eased off, combing auburn hair away from the child's flushed face, smiling down at him tenderly. Keith Michael returned the gesture with a toothless grin, holding up his arms, "Hug."

Lucas couldn't have taken his eyes off of her even if he wanted to. A guilty admission of his, throughout most of his adolescence, when he pictured his future- kids, white picket fence- it was Peyton Sawyer he imagined at his side. He could see her walking down the aisle toward him gowned in white; he could see pretty little girls with her curls and her smile, playful little boys with her green eyes and her dimples. He watched as Peyton gently lifted a sleepy Keith Michael into her arms, cradling him against her as she stood and made her way to the nearest chair.

The strange sensation of the contact spread through her like wildfire, the small bundle of warmth instinctually nestling closer to her. Inwardly, she was both bemused and delighted at the odd feeling that filled her as the little male body pressed into her. The warmth washed over her in a gentle tide, and Peyton's mouth curved into a small smile as she cradled the baby close, closing her eyes as he murmured against her shoulder, nuzzling against her.

What on earth was this feeling? This protectiveness, the sudden want to hold and comfort and treasure? If she took a moment to admit it to herself, she would find it would feel almost…maternal…

"What is it about you?" she said softly, hating the shaky quality to her own voice as she stared down at the child in her arms, still peacefully drowsy and oblivious to the distress he was causing to her. She suddenly felt the pressure of two large hands on her shoulder, angling back her head to see Lucas's serene gray eyes staring back at her. She had not realized she had been trembling until he moved to steady her. She placed a hand over one of his, giving it a light squeeze as she quietly thanked him, leaning back against him.

"You okay?"

It was a near the end of the school year, a time they had stolen to spend together under Brooke's radar. They were both eighteen, and still so shy around one another. It had been a strange phase, caught between knowing and wondering how the other felt, struggling between the trepidation and elation that warred inside.

They were both laid out at the beach, stretched out on their backs upon the sand, beneath the starry expanses of the sky. She reached over and slipped her hand into his, their hands entwining without preamble, tightly, reassuringly.

The air grew cooler, taking on a biting edge she had not prepared for. He had caught notice of her trembling, shaking his head with a light of amusement in his eyes, wrapping his jacket around her slight frame as he gently rubbed his knuckles against her cheek, giving her a smile. He had gazed down at her, his eyes warm but unreadable, his arm around her shoulders, trying to provide what warmth he could. "I'll always be here to take care of you, Peyt, but you gotta remember things from time to time."

She felt her face warm with mortification, but she smiled as she moved closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. He glanced down at her, momentarily startled before relaxing at her proximity, turning his eyes back to the stars above them.

"…Luke…?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you…have you ever thought about children?"

"Children?"

"Yes. I don't mean children in general, but children of your own. Have you ever thought about it?"

"Yeah, hasn't everybody?"

"Hmm."

He leaned his head against hers, casting wondering eyes down at her. "Haven't you?"

"Hmm-mm."

He smiled fondly, tightening his arms around her. "The same to you, Peyt. You'd be a great mother." He watched her blink sleepy eyes, felt her smile as she nestled deeper into his half-embrace. "What brought all this up?" he asked gently.

She sighed softly. "I think about my mom, and your mom. So…I wonder about it, if I would be a good mother."

He brushed a light kiss against the crown of her head, grateful for the drowsy state that could banish both their shyness. "What would you rather have? A son or daughter?"

"I wouldn't care as long as it was healthy."

"Hmm…I think, like you said, that it wouldn't matter as long as he or she was healthy, and I wouldn't mind a son. But…I think…I would really like a daughter."

A daughter, Peyton. Just like you.

She placed her hand over his, tilting her head to smile up at him. "Yeah. I'm perfect."

--

In the field they lay in, the grasses grew tall as an average size man, sweeping upward in long stretches of tawny, golden-brown and emerald green, the sun beaming down in softly amber beams, warming them in the mild spring afternoon, but not making the atmosphere around them unbearable. The grasses obscured them from ordinary vision, hiding them away from the rest of the world as they lay side by side, oblivious to the foliage catching in hair or clothes.

It was springtime, bordering on the onslaught of the summer season, the mild softness of the spring mixing with the spicy heat of summertime. Still, the weather was cool that time of day, with the sun already passed on the horizon, light spilling in lingering pools of molten gold, long, cobalt shadows cast by them providing amble shading from the hovering menace that was the summer sun.

A-buzz with life was the forage around her, the sounds of insects chirping and birds singing, the distant calls of animals yet unknown to her auditory memory. Still, her favorite sound was the low hum resounding from him, a rich, pleasant reverberation whose repeating chorus was an echo of an old childhood song, almost absentminded as he softly sang while his attention was elsewhere, focused on the novel in his hand.

She could not help but laugh delightedly, and though she tried to smother the noise, there was not much that escaped his attention. His eyes were on her within a split second, his gaze sharp and questioning, but still soft with affection she had come to treasure from him.

"What is it?" he did not sound exasperated or annoyed, only curious, and she giggled again, leaning back her head to take in the cool of the blowing breeze.

"Nothing, it's just…the song you were humming, what is it?"

He grimaced, previously unaware he had given voice to the music running through his head, "I dunno really.

"Mmm…maybe you can sing it to Keith Michael. It might put him to sleep."

The low, deep sound of his laughter reached her ears, along with his near-whisper of, "Please. My voice is terrible. I'd scare him more than anything."

The sound of his pages rustling stopped abruptly but she thought nothing of it until she felt the tingle down her spine that spoke of his sudden, close proximity. Her eyes fluttered open, wide and startled, taking in his face twisted into a perplexed, unreadable expression, his brow furrowed with disconcertion.

She touched a hand to his cheek, concerned, and he jumped under her touch, his fingers grasping tightly around her wrist. They stared at each other for a moment, and he leaned close, so close his eyes were a blur of vivid, ocean-blue and his breath was hot against her skin, and he spoke, his voice soft as a ghostly touch.

"Peyton…if I kiss you right now…would you hate me?"

She smiled softly, tracing a finger down his cheek. "How could I hate you for it, when I want you to do it so badly?"

His lips were on hers, and the kiss was soft, light, fragile, and delicate as if something that could be broken. And then her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him closer, and he was suddenly kissing her in earnest, a slow stirring of a heat, a passion, that changed the world forever. He kissed until the world changed, and them along with it, and even that was not enough.

They pulled back, sharing no more acknowledgment to the intimacy than shy, secretive smiles. Peyton nestled against him, her body fitting quite nicely to the contours of his own, his arm loosely around her waist, and her head against his shoulder. He sighed softly and absently nuzzled her neck, and she smiled indulgently, fiddling with a piece of grass between her fingers.

"How is it?" she asked him suddenly.

"How's what?"

"Being a big brother."

"Mmm," he leaned his forehead against her shoulder, curling his fingers through the stray hairs falling down her back, "I love it. And knowing he's a part of Keith…"

"You miss him."

"Of course. You know, Mom thinks it's a good idea that Keith Michael meets him."

"His grave?" as he nodded, she smiled quietly, "Hmm…it's a sweet idea."

"Yeah…but I have a request to make…"

"What's that?"

"Will you come with me?"

"Of course." She wrapped her hands around his arm, scooting even closer until her back pressed to his chest, her head falling back to rest in the crook of his neck. "Will you be okay taking him?"

His brow furrowed, and he bit his lip as he puzzled out his answer. She laughed softly and smoothed her thumb against his mouth, startling him enough that he stopped. "That's a bad habit you have, worrying your lips like that."

"Sorry."

"Luke…" She turned in his arms, embracing him in return, and he surrendered himself, pressing as close to her as he could manage, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the subtle scent of wildflowers. "Don't hide things. You've got a bad habit of pretending to be okay when you're not. You've opened up with me before, and God knows you know every inch of my soul by now. Don't shut me out, alright?"

"Okay." He exhaled sharply, releasing the tension built up inside of him since the previous morning, sinking into her arms as they fell back into the grass, wrapped up in each other. Somewhere amongst their embrace, his mouth met hers and clung, and she melted against him, such a sweet submission he couldn't bring himself to stop, not pulling away as quickly as he normally would.

So the kiss lingered, sweet and soft and a slow kindling of a passion his young body knew from first touch, something hot and enticing and exciting that enflamed his very being. They finally broke away, breathless and wanting for air, and he moved his head down for another kiss, but Peyton placed her fingers against his lips. He froze, staring at her in bewilderment.

"What is it?"

"I just think that's enough for now."

"Why?" He kissed her cheek, the side of her neck, his lips warm against her skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what?"

"…a tumble in the grass isn't what we need, Luke…that isn't what we're about…

Lucas sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against hers. "You're right. I'm sorry. But…" he trailed off, opening one eye to look at her hesitantly. "Peyt, have you ever thought about…" His eyebrows arched in question as he looked at her, unable to fully give voice to what he was getting at.

Her face flushed, and her eyes narrowed as she swatted him in the arm and moved out of his embrace. "Luke! Why would you ask something like that?!"

"I'm sorry…I just…you know I'm…"

"A guy?" she asked wryly, accepting his embrace as he slipped his arms around her once more, tracing a finger down his chest, "But you know…it's not just guys that think about that stuff."

His face broke out with a vivid blush, and he mumbled incoherently under his breath. She laughed softly and he pulled her against him, falling against the grass on his back, nestling her against him. She pressed her ear against his chest, heard the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I just don't want that for us."

"I never said I wanted that."

Being with Peyton Sawyer was something he knew could never be casual. It wouldn't be just sex. It'd be making love. That much he knew.

"I know," she gently chided, "But that's not what I'm saying."

"Don't ever think that, Peyt. Honestly, please don't. We've got history and we've got so much going on beneath the surface, no matter what we do, but you know how I feel about you. You've never treated me like I was less," he cupped her face, tracing his fingers along the curve of her cheek as she raised her head to look at him. "You've always looked beyond what I am, to who I am. You always listen. That's what I want."

He could wait. He should wait. He would wait.

She smiled, placing her hands over his. "Good boy," she said simply.

He looked absolutely dumbfounded. "What?"

That sly smile still tugged at her lips as she propped herself up on her elbows, gazing down at him. "You're a good guy, Luke. Don't let anyone change that."

He cocked an eyebrow, his lips quirking with the beginnings of a grin. "Oh? And who do you think it is that's corrupting me?"

Their laughter echoed as he pulled her toward him once more, kissing them both breathless as they fell back into the grass, lost in their shared embrace.