Title: Hotter Than July
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please, it's taken me the best part of a week to get this how I wanted it to be, I appreciate your thoughts as always :)
Author's note: I slipped into a little first person yet again, just to even things up in light of the last chapter :)
Heartbeats echoed hard, pulsing back off the angular walls, still blanketed in unnatural shades of dark and light. A few shadows formed, movement continued and the silence was painful. Slowly, and thankfully, Luka realised that his gripping, momentary fear had been unfounded, and that Abby was not heading for the door, but for the fridge. She went to open it, but then reconsidered, and flicked her hair backwards in a gesture that was deceptively sexual. God knows why I just did that, she thought, aware of everything.
"Can I get something to eat?" Dinner seemed a distant memory and although she was not prone to midnight feasts, she was awake and feeling hunger burn in her stomach like a ball of acid.
"Sure, help yourself." She opened the fridge and a gleaming portal of light shot out, making her eyes sore. But they soon mellowed at the sight of an huge, unopened bar of Toblerone nestling in the heart of the glowing box.
"You realise I'm gonna have to eat half your chocolate to talk to you about all this stuff?"
Mystified, Luka got to his feet, not remembering that he even had any chocolate, deciding that now, he definitely wanted some. He thought of Marko. Was his first word chocolate or did I imagine it? Well, not in English of course. Smiling, he stretched to alleviate tiredness and made his way towards the light.
"Take your time, you don't want to get sick."
"I think you're sorely underestimating my chocolate-eating abilities."
"I'm not underestimating your ability to change the subject," he said, not willing to let her escape his questions. Not willing to let her escape, full stop.
"What is this, Springer? You gunning for a job as a chat-show host?" He stifled a laugh, moving across the room, moving closer to her.
"Stop doing that, Abby. Just talk to me." That wasn't an ask, it was a command. She closed the fridge door, the strong light fading as quickly as it had appeared, and busied herself with opening the long triangular package. She leant against the worktop, pressing the end of her spine against it, convincing herself that pain still existed in this atmosphere. Abby raked her fingers through her hair again, her physical state compensating for her lack of words, her movements an attempt to force the words out of her mouth. Or am I trying to seduce him? She allowed herself a slight, playful chuckle, teasing the foil from around the chocolate.
Luka was now leaning against the opposite counter, lilac light from the fish tank pooling and reaming across his bare forearm. A sharp snap, like the sound of a ruptured ligament, cracked through the air as she broke the hard, cool chocolate. Abby dared to look up at him, her eyes as dark as cocoa, thriving in the protective shadows. She didn't know how he did it, but Luka's body language was a conflicting mix, he appeared both caring and carefree. Full of intent but relaxed. A position that she could learn to love: someone who always cared, but did so with breathing room: in every relationship there was an individual, an autonomous being. Maybe he had been like that before and she had just been blind? But he had been blind too.
She outstretched her hand, holding out a cold slab of chocolate, as if she were offering to hand him the darkest parts of her soul from her very palm. He shook his head in a polite, attractive dismissal. The only thing he wanted from her was words. It was not as if she could not be articulate, she had to do it almost every day, speaking to strangers about not just their medical problems, but their personal lives, their difficult decisions. She quickly eased her grievances by consuming the Toblerone, the ambiguous mix of smooth Swiss chocolate and rocky nougat enough to calm an even worse irritation than silence, when silence was not wanted.
Abby crossed her arms defensively and finally shattered silence with the vibration of her voice.
She shrugged, looking up at him again. "What do you want me to say? I guess... I got myself into a relationship at the wrong time. If there ever was a right time. I needed that space that you were just talking about. I didn't get it."
"And now?" Had they both treaded the tightrope of self-recognition over the past eight months or so without realising that maybe, just maybe, it would lead them to a reconciliation? Luka felt strangely objective. He shot a glance toward the window again, and wondered if the light of day would ever pierce through the never-ending spirals of blackened grey. Maybe some mystical being was tampering with the elements, rearranging the cosmos to make this moment possible.
"You tell me, you're the one with all the answers around here." This was not a scathing criticism, but a light, playful interjection, the light dancing in her eyes, a slight smile forming in a tempting curve.
"I told you not to do that." Changing the subject again. He knew how to play too, with a not altogether serious chastisement.
"Yeah, well, since when did I listen to you?" She laughed, feeling a little more relaxed. "You really want to know what I think now?" He nodded in anticipation of an explanation.
"I think I've learnt enough relationship lessons for now." "You just can't change because other people want you to, you have to do it for yourself."
"Other people's expectations are overvoted."
"Overrated." She laughed, then added, "You do that on purpose, don't you?"
"No. I'm not as clever as you think I am."
As he pressed his palms flatter and harder against the cold surface which was supporting him, Luka caught a glint of effervescence in Abby's eyes, a happiness that almost seemed misplaced in her eyes, so often burning with a destructive sadness or a vitriolic anger. In a world so full of sadness and pain, this glimpse of pleasure was exactly what he wanted to see.
"I'm not so clever, really. I thought your relationship with Carter would be the one that lasted." It may have been an irrational fear, but it had been a fear nonetheless.
Abby emitted a sarcastic laugh, before slowly uncrossing her arms.
"Science taught me not to be tempted by diamonds, they're only polished carbon."
"Crystallised carbon. It's all to do with structure."
"Smartass," she said, smiling. Damn doctors and their degrees.
"Cynic." A cynicism, however, that was strangely appealing.
"I'll bet you couldn't afford diamonds when you proposed to your wife." She felt somewhat astounded that those words had trickled from her mouth, without a strangling fear constricting around her heart.
"No, I got my hands on the first ring I could, I stole the napkin ring from the restaurant instead." Luka looked right at her, with a half-smile, the flicker of emotion in his eyes conveying the wonder and sentiment of the memory. Hope, sadness and love all thrown together, burning on the back of his optic nerves. Light fused off his irises and seemed to spill over her in waves of affection. Despite the twist of a smile, Abby knew it was a truthful comment, one which left her both breathless and speechless in the same moment. If love was the perfect, curved, silver blade of a samurai sword then with that minimal gaze he had pierced it into her soul with an agonising, breathtaking violence. It was beautiful, it was dangerous, and there was no time to bleed. It's not that simple, she reminded herself, refusing to believe that it was just that easy.
"I can't believe I just asked you about that," she said, her words ragged, she felt delirious with a pleasurable feeling that she could barely identify, it was alien but it was not frightening.
"It's okay, they're not all bad memories, and it's always good to be reminded of the best ones." He was aware that anyone who chose to cross the boundaries and explore this unspoken quantity of his past needed some reassurance.
Both of them paused from the intensity, neither able to remember when they had last looked away from each other. If silence had been their bond, then words were cementing it deeper. Luka moved now, despite feeling a strong connection, he also felt that the way they were standing there was slightly confrontational.
Now, they were side by side, both leaning their weight against the cold, marbled kitchen furniture, both sets of eyes blurred by the minimal distance between them and the fishtank.
"I still can't believe you're single." "I thought you guys would get married and have these perfect, studious kids, called... Brady and Grady." Even after Abby's admissions, he still felt as puzzled as he did when he had first learnt of their separation, with diesel stifling the air and asphalt melting around him.
She laughed dryly at his comment, feeling that he was having too much fun with this subject now, but was nowhere close to being angry with him. "I'm just not very poetic. And you need to stop taking the piss."
When Abby reconsidered his comment, she felt some kind of nihilistic switch flick within her, and could not prevent the negative words which preceded to fall out of her mouth.
"Besides, my children could never be perfect." She avoided his gaze like the plague.
"They would be, just trust me." She could feel this hopeful analysis tickling across her skin, attempting to enter her bloodstream. She wanted to listen to all these reasonable voices in her head, but she only knew one thing in this situation: escape. Not this time.
That was always the difference, she thought. Fear. Ugly, shitty, uncontrollable fear. I always let fear get in the way. I do not take risks, I do not give things a chance. I look for the exit and take the quickest way out. But I'm beginning to realise that running away is just a treatment, it's not a cure. My mother was right, I need to start taking some risks. But haven't I been doing that, chasing Luka's shadow over the past few hazy weeks, not knowing where the hell I would end up? Maybe I have.
Feeling both comforted and stuck, yearning for just a little solitude, Abby shifted herself forward so that she was face to face with the fishtank. Slowly, she watched the multi-coloured, luminous beings dart chaotically in the illuminated water. As she did so, the solitary pearl of a tear escaped her left eye. It escaped, as she was not permitted to cry. Not permitted to cry for her mother, her brother, even the father she barely knew. Not permitted to cry for Luka, even when she thought he was dead. Not even permitted to cry for her unborn child, whose ghostly fists still attempted to embrace her. She caught a glimpse of her reflection, pure and truthful, as the single bead of water flowed across her cheek. She felt relieved, as the salty sting against her soft skin was telling her that she was not just beginning to purge the hurt, but that it was starting to escape from inside.
Luka caught the troubled peace of her stare in reflection of the glass, somehow wishing it would distort and contort the image before his eyes. At the same time, he knew what it was to cry; it was not useless, it was not wasteful, but it was an expulsion of bitterness, a purification as the impure water flowed out. Her eyes were flickering like a twisting candle flame battling against the tortured darkness, but no more liquid was expelled. He had little choice but to follow in her steps, so that now he was standing behind her. Slowly, as if he believed she was made of glass, he placed a firm but gentle hand on her left shoulder. If there was any pain there, then it was if it would seep into his fingertips and be absorbed to nothing. Abby exhaled lightly, her breath catching in the air, yet another expulsion of hurt, moving them even closer.
Finally, she turned around, the glow behind her effective in casting a rich, dark shadow. Abby looked up at him, not begging for solace, understanding or anything. Her dark eyes carried his secrets as well as her own. They fell into an embrace with a haunting simplicity, striving not for comfort but for the final, wordless confirmation of intimacy. Luka closed his eyes, all he could see was darkness like tar-black molasses dripping behind his eyelids. Reluctant to break away, they were caught midway between being together and apart as their eyes met again and their hold loosened. Luka's grip was loose on her shoulders, Abby's hands delicate at his sides. As if she had commanded it with her expression, he leant in and stole a soft, silent kiss from her lips. As he did so, he felt the cold and warm intricacies of her sadness and joy as the tear rubbed against his skin. It reminded him of how much her pain hurt him, a swift contrast to the violence that he had vengefully released on Brian, but a reminder all the same.
Luka felt a strange mix of hope and fear, despite being twisted and churned with the delirious ecstasy of her kiss. Abby could barely comprehend this state of bliss, the mere physical contact the only thing convincing her that it was real. It had to end, and they disconnected with differing degrees of reluctance. He still felt a strange apprehension, but could not force himself to avoid her eyes, knowing full well that this trouble would be evident in his glance. She saw it, and felt his discomfort. It was somewhat irrational, he had wanted to taste the joy so much, but now felt strangely redundant. As a compensation, as he did not want to cause her too much pain, he planted his lips on her forehead and planted a kiss there, before disconnecting completely.
"I don't think we're ready for this. I'll see you in the morning." With these, short, sharp, jagged words he was heading for the stairs. Abby could not find any words to tell him that she thought he was insanely wrong. Cold and strangely alone, she returned to the couch, where she wrapped herself in the angry maroon and hurtful violet of the sheet and begged for the daylight to bring her what she wanted.
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please, it's taken me the best part of a week to get this how I wanted it to be, I appreciate your thoughts as always :)
Author's note: I slipped into a little first person yet again, just to even things up in light of the last chapter :)
Heartbeats echoed hard, pulsing back off the angular walls, still blanketed in unnatural shades of dark and light. A few shadows formed, movement continued and the silence was painful. Slowly, and thankfully, Luka realised that his gripping, momentary fear had been unfounded, and that Abby was not heading for the door, but for the fridge. She went to open it, but then reconsidered, and flicked her hair backwards in a gesture that was deceptively sexual. God knows why I just did that, she thought, aware of everything.
"Can I get something to eat?" Dinner seemed a distant memory and although she was not prone to midnight feasts, she was awake and feeling hunger burn in her stomach like a ball of acid.
"Sure, help yourself." She opened the fridge and a gleaming portal of light shot out, making her eyes sore. But they soon mellowed at the sight of an huge, unopened bar of Toblerone nestling in the heart of the glowing box.
"You realise I'm gonna have to eat half your chocolate to talk to you about all this stuff?"
Mystified, Luka got to his feet, not remembering that he even had any chocolate, deciding that now, he definitely wanted some. He thought of Marko. Was his first word chocolate or did I imagine it? Well, not in English of course. Smiling, he stretched to alleviate tiredness and made his way towards the light.
"Take your time, you don't want to get sick."
"I think you're sorely underestimating my chocolate-eating abilities."
"I'm not underestimating your ability to change the subject," he said, not willing to let her escape his questions. Not willing to let her escape, full stop.
"What is this, Springer? You gunning for a job as a chat-show host?" He stifled a laugh, moving across the room, moving closer to her.
"Stop doing that, Abby. Just talk to me." That wasn't an ask, it was a command. She closed the fridge door, the strong light fading as quickly as it had appeared, and busied herself with opening the long triangular package. She leant against the worktop, pressing the end of her spine against it, convincing herself that pain still existed in this atmosphere. Abby raked her fingers through her hair again, her physical state compensating for her lack of words, her movements an attempt to force the words out of her mouth. Or am I trying to seduce him? She allowed herself a slight, playful chuckle, teasing the foil from around the chocolate.
Luka was now leaning against the opposite counter, lilac light from the fish tank pooling and reaming across his bare forearm. A sharp snap, like the sound of a ruptured ligament, cracked through the air as she broke the hard, cool chocolate. Abby dared to look up at him, her eyes as dark as cocoa, thriving in the protective shadows. She didn't know how he did it, but Luka's body language was a conflicting mix, he appeared both caring and carefree. Full of intent but relaxed. A position that she could learn to love: someone who always cared, but did so with breathing room: in every relationship there was an individual, an autonomous being. Maybe he had been like that before and she had just been blind? But he had been blind too.
She outstretched her hand, holding out a cold slab of chocolate, as if she were offering to hand him the darkest parts of her soul from her very palm. He shook his head in a polite, attractive dismissal. The only thing he wanted from her was words. It was not as if she could not be articulate, she had to do it almost every day, speaking to strangers about not just their medical problems, but their personal lives, their difficult decisions. She quickly eased her grievances by consuming the Toblerone, the ambiguous mix of smooth Swiss chocolate and rocky nougat enough to calm an even worse irritation than silence, when silence was not wanted.
Abby crossed her arms defensively and finally shattered silence with the vibration of her voice.
She shrugged, looking up at him again. "What do you want me to say? I guess... I got myself into a relationship at the wrong time. If there ever was a right time. I needed that space that you were just talking about. I didn't get it."
"And now?" Had they both treaded the tightrope of self-recognition over the past eight months or so without realising that maybe, just maybe, it would lead them to a reconciliation? Luka felt strangely objective. He shot a glance toward the window again, and wondered if the light of day would ever pierce through the never-ending spirals of blackened grey. Maybe some mystical being was tampering with the elements, rearranging the cosmos to make this moment possible.
"You tell me, you're the one with all the answers around here." This was not a scathing criticism, but a light, playful interjection, the light dancing in her eyes, a slight smile forming in a tempting curve.
"I told you not to do that." Changing the subject again. He knew how to play too, with a not altogether serious chastisement.
"Yeah, well, since when did I listen to you?" She laughed, feeling a little more relaxed. "You really want to know what I think now?" He nodded in anticipation of an explanation.
"I think I've learnt enough relationship lessons for now." "You just can't change because other people want you to, you have to do it for yourself."
"Other people's expectations are overvoted."
"Overrated." She laughed, then added, "You do that on purpose, don't you?"
"No. I'm not as clever as you think I am."
As he pressed his palms flatter and harder against the cold surface which was supporting him, Luka caught a glint of effervescence in Abby's eyes, a happiness that almost seemed misplaced in her eyes, so often burning with a destructive sadness or a vitriolic anger. In a world so full of sadness and pain, this glimpse of pleasure was exactly what he wanted to see.
"I'm not so clever, really. I thought your relationship with Carter would be the one that lasted." It may have been an irrational fear, but it had been a fear nonetheless.
Abby emitted a sarcastic laugh, before slowly uncrossing her arms.
"Science taught me not to be tempted by diamonds, they're only polished carbon."
"Crystallised carbon. It's all to do with structure."
"Smartass," she said, smiling. Damn doctors and their degrees.
"Cynic." A cynicism, however, that was strangely appealing.
"I'll bet you couldn't afford diamonds when you proposed to your wife." She felt somewhat astounded that those words had trickled from her mouth, without a strangling fear constricting around her heart.
"No, I got my hands on the first ring I could, I stole the napkin ring from the restaurant instead." Luka looked right at her, with a half-smile, the flicker of emotion in his eyes conveying the wonder and sentiment of the memory. Hope, sadness and love all thrown together, burning on the back of his optic nerves. Light fused off his irises and seemed to spill over her in waves of affection. Despite the twist of a smile, Abby knew it was a truthful comment, one which left her both breathless and speechless in the same moment. If love was the perfect, curved, silver blade of a samurai sword then with that minimal gaze he had pierced it into her soul with an agonising, breathtaking violence. It was beautiful, it was dangerous, and there was no time to bleed. It's not that simple, she reminded herself, refusing to believe that it was just that easy.
"I can't believe I just asked you about that," she said, her words ragged, she felt delirious with a pleasurable feeling that she could barely identify, it was alien but it was not frightening.
"It's okay, they're not all bad memories, and it's always good to be reminded of the best ones." He was aware that anyone who chose to cross the boundaries and explore this unspoken quantity of his past needed some reassurance.
Both of them paused from the intensity, neither able to remember when they had last looked away from each other. If silence had been their bond, then words were cementing it deeper. Luka moved now, despite feeling a strong connection, he also felt that the way they were standing there was slightly confrontational.
Now, they were side by side, both leaning their weight against the cold, marbled kitchen furniture, both sets of eyes blurred by the minimal distance between them and the fishtank.
"I still can't believe you're single." "I thought you guys would get married and have these perfect, studious kids, called... Brady and Grady." Even after Abby's admissions, he still felt as puzzled as he did when he had first learnt of their separation, with diesel stifling the air and asphalt melting around him.
She laughed dryly at his comment, feeling that he was having too much fun with this subject now, but was nowhere close to being angry with him. "I'm just not very poetic. And you need to stop taking the piss."
When Abby reconsidered his comment, she felt some kind of nihilistic switch flick within her, and could not prevent the negative words which preceded to fall out of her mouth.
"Besides, my children could never be perfect." She avoided his gaze like the plague.
"They would be, just trust me." She could feel this hopeful analysis tickling across her skin, attempting to enter her bloodstream. She wanted to listen to all these reasonable voices in her head, but she only knew one thing in this situation: escape. Not this time.
That was always the difference, she thought. Fear. Ugly, shitty, uncontrollable fear. I always let fear get in the way. I do not take risks, I do not give things a chance. I look for the exit and take the quickest way out. But I'm beginning to realise that running away is just a treatment, it's not a cure. My mother was right, I need to start taking some risks. But haven't I been doing that, chasing Luka's shadow over the past few hazy weeks, not knowing where the hell I would end up? Maybe I have.
Feeling both comforted and stuck, yearning for just a little solitude, Abby shifted herself forward so that she was face to face with the fishtank. Slowly, she watched the multi-coloured, luminous beings dart chaotically in the illuminated water. As she did so, the solitary pearl of a tear escaped her left eye. It escaped, as she was not permitted to cry. Not permitted to cry for her mother, her brother, even the father she barely knew. Not permitted to cry for Luka, even when she thought he was dead. Not even permitted to cry for her unborn child, whose ghostly fists still attempted to embrace her. She caught a glimpse of her reflection, pure and truthful, as the single bead of water flowed across her cheek. She felt relieved, as the salty sting against her soft skin was telling her that she was not just beginning to purge the hurt, but that it was starting to escape from inside.
Luka caught the troubled peace of her stare in reflection of the glass, somehow wishing it would distort and contort the image before his eyes. At the same time, he knew what it was to cry; it was not useless, it was not wasteful, but it was an expulsion of bitterness, a purification as the impure water flowed out. Her eyes were flickering like a twisting candle flame battling against the tortured darkness, but no more liquid was expelled. He had little choice but to follow in her steps, so that now he was standing behind her. Slowly, as if he believed she was made of glass, he placed a firm but gentle hand on her left shoulder. If there was any pain there, then it was if it would seep into his fingertips and be absorbed to nothing. Abby exhaled lightly, her breath catching in the air, yet another expulsion of hurt, moving them even closer.
Finally, she turned around, the glow behind her effective in casting a rich, dark shadow. Abby looked up at him, not begging for solace, understanding or anything. Her dark eyes carried his secrets as well as her own. They fell into an embrace with a haunting simplicity, striving not for comfort but for the final, wordless confirmation of intimacy. Luka closed his eyes, all he could see was darkness like tar-black molasses dripping behind his eyelids. Reluctant to break away, they were caught midway between being together and apart as their eyes met again and their hold loosened. Luka's grip was loose on her shoulders, Abby's hands delicate at his sides. As if she had commanded it with her expression, he leant in and stole a soft, silent kiss from her lips. As he did so, he felt the cold and warm intricacies of her sadness and joy as the tear rubbed against his skin. It reminded him of how much her pain hurt him, a swift contrast to the violence that he had vengefully released on Brian, but a reminder all the same.
Luka felt a strange mix of hope and fear, despite being twisted and churned with the delirious ecstasy of her kiss. Abby could barely comprehend this state of bliss, the mere physical contact the only thing convincing her that it was real. It had to end, and they disconnected with differing degrees of reluctance. He still felt a strange apprehension, but could not force himself to avoid her eyes, knowing full well that this trouble would be evident in his glance. She saw it, and felt his discomfort. It was somewhat irrational, he had wanted to taste the joy so much, but now felt strangely redundant. As a compensation, as he did not want to cause her too much pain, he planted his lips on her forehead and planted a kiss there, before disconnecting completely.
"I don't think we're ready for this. I'll see you in the morning." With these, short, sharp, jagged words he was heading for the stairs. Abby could not find any words to tell him that she thought he was insanely wrong. Cold and strangely alone, she returned to the couch, where she wrapped herself in the angry maroon and hurtful violet of the sheet and begged for the daylight to bring her what she wanted.