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, I still feel a tiny bit unsure about this chap :)
Author's note: More strong language!!
IMPORTANT: The next chapter, 19, may mean that I will have to up the rating to R. So please, I don't want to lose anyone who has been reading this, this story will not have disappeared, it will just be in the "All" or "R" rated section. If you don't want to read the R bit (it's not definite yet though) then please skip to Ch.20, which will be back to PG-13. Thanks!!
The morning was darker, and even darker still squeezed into the minimal space of the staircase. Light pooled in haemorrhages of colour and understanding at the top and the bottom, yet the middle was a black vault of tar, pitchblende, carbon and bitumen. Somewhere in this space, lingering between the gutter and the stars was Abby, the cool yet stagnant air nipping at her bare legs. A casual flick of her thumb turned gas to flame as if she were some sort of alchemist, as she neatly lit her first cigarette of the day. At some time close to 4 a.m. She needed the nicotine to control the confusion, frustration and hope doing somersaults in her blood. Near yet far, stranded between closeness and distance, day and night, something had to force some action. She exhaled hard, then groped for the stolen saucer that she had placed on the stair, resting neatly between her feet. The ceramic was cold against her fingertips as she tapped and flicked ash into it, the disarray mocking her supposed emotions. She needed no more time, no more silence, no more sadness. Not even solace was an option anymore.
It had been at least twenty minutes since she had abandoned her attempts to sleep. How could she, with a kiss still silent on her lips, fingerprints etched on her clothes, disorder looped like a spiral in her head? She glanced upward, revelling in the pleasure of a secret cigarette, while wondering if Mo was still soundly asleep on his couch. What would he think of this mixed-up state of affairs? "Life's too fucking short," he would have said. Damn right, nice theory, but it was always different in practice.
"I smelt smoke, where's the fire?" Luka's voice behind her, short, shocking, cocooned in the minimal space. She held her left hand high in the air, waving the glowing tip in his direction. His attention caught by the toxic glow, he tenderly gripped her wrist with one hand while delicately easing the Marlboro from between her fingertips with the other. Easing his frame into the impossible space, Luka juggled with the cigarette while finally occupying the other half of the step. They were crammed together, she felt the heat of his forearm as an abrasive delight, the denim of his jeans scratching warmth onto her skin.
"You're a very bad liar, Luka, you know that?" Her glance was tantamount to an accusation, despite being some sort of compliment.
"I'm glad..." "That you can tell." He had told her too many lies, some that he had attempted to repair, some that may have been unrepairable.
His first smoke since Africa was accompanied by a slight nostalgia, a slight repulsion, a cycle of emotion. Abby watched, enthralled by the coils of smoke twisting in the air, creating subliminal messages.
"I'm..."
"I don't want a fucking apology. Anything but a goddamned sorry." Anger had disconnected itself from her tone, her barely audible whisper was more of a plea. Cautiously, slowly, he reached for the saucer, then violently corkscrewed the cigarette to nothing.
"I wasn't going to apologise. I was going to explain." Luka felt her move, just slightly, maybe a shrug, maybe a shiver.
Her reply surprised him. "Good." Despite being caressed, then abandoned, Abby no longer wished to concern herself with the past. Going around in circles of apology was no use to either of them.
"Do you think I'm fearless?"
Her trademark sarcastic laugh was followed by genuine confusion.
"What?"
It would have been easy to perceive him as fearless: someone who had seen so much, some things so haunting that others could barely conceptualise. Some things were beyond comprehension.
"I don't think anybody is fearless...it's impossible." She replied while her fingertips still mourned the loss of the cigarette, a gap where it had rested still visible.
It was his realisation that not everything was impossible that had been troublesome. Generations of belief systems and myths told you it was only possible to love one person in the world, and that was it. No second chances, no rebirth, no rediscovery. Even if he refused to define his feelings for Abby, he recognised their many wonderful threads: intense and irrational, beautiful and terrifying. Now he knew why he had sought solace in drink and sex. It was easier to feel nothing. To feel nothing when you were intoxicated. To feel nothing when you fucked a whore.
"I got scared. The things that I feel for you, they...frighten me sometimes." His voice was teeming with emotion.
"You should see me in my Halloween costume," she said, attempting to diffuse and destroy this fear. Leaning against him slightly, she felt the confusing contradictions of the muscular strength of his shoulder with his admission of vulnerability. She actually felt him smile, pleased that she could inject some humour into his life even at serious moments. Serious moments when he was admitting that he felt things for her. Whatever these things were, she could not disguise her delight as she caught his gaze momentarily. There it was again, a flicker of light between their eyes, as intricate and delicate as a firefly spinning in the blackness.
"I just didn't think...I could feel anything that was...powerful..again." Luka was choosing his adjectives carefully. All the complex networks of nerves and feelings within him had been corroded, corrupted and split by painful experience, fused and broken with hurt. He had not expected to go beyond some sort of repair and actually feel a kind of renewal. A place where it was possible to feel things that were powerful, stirring and important.
"You're the one who knows all about risk, what makes you so scared of it now? I'm not that scary. Even at 4 am."
He smirked, feeling both childish and less vulnerable at the same time.
"It's stupid, I know." Abby put a cold hand on his warm arm, the friction and contrast both uncomfortable and exhilarating.
"It's not so stupid. Fear can be pretty irrational sometimes. Pretty much most of the time."
She watched the impossible darkness melting before her eyes, covering and protecting them. She allowed herself a secret, wry smile. That felt like a one hundred percent genetic pearl of wisdom, straight from Maggie's canon of reason and unreason. Slowly, she moved her hand down his arm in one liquid motion, closing her comparatively small hand over his. Abby laid back slightly, stretching like a sun-drenched cheetah. Leaning casually against the wall, she angled her body both close and far away from his. Observing with interest, she saw the half-grin still prominent on his face, still amused at their predicament. Feeling a rush of humour, she emitted a true, intimate laugh which leapt perfectly in the quiet. Luka mirrored her actions, sloping casually backwards, cautious not to sever their connection as she gripped his hand ungracefully. He met her amicable eyes with the raise of a questioning eyebrow, still somewhat amused.
"I'm missing the joke, Abby. You're gonna have to explain."
"It's funny, I feel like I just spent the last few weeks slowly learning not to be afraid anymore." Her tone became frank but still optimistic. Turning the tables slightly, Luka pulled his hand from underneath hers and proceeded to engulf her fingers with his hand. What was there to be afraid of, when he was gripping life and the future in his hand, feeling the slow beat of the pulse in her wrist? A second chance was not to be passed up, but to be held onto.
"And when do you complete your education?" His tone of voice made education sound like the sexiest thing that had ever existed, while his hand tugged hers closer.
"I'd say..right about now." With a movement as quick as lightning, Abby replaced the smile on his lips with a teasing, luxurious kiss, her body contorted in an awkward, rapturous mess as she leant in closer.
Aware of her discomfort, Luka shifted slowly to the middle of the stair, then pulled her uncouthly into his lap, pleased that she instinctively moved her legs outside of his, as his hands fixed on her back. He deepened the kiss, tasting the hope, the life, the silent meanings in her mouth, the unspoken words passing between them in the sweetest discourse, the final act of communication. They soon pulled apart, as she was laughing at their absurd position.
"This is getting dangerous, I may have to renew my life insurance," she said, breathlessly content.
"You were the one who wanted all the risk," he said, with a smile, gazing into her eager, joyous eyes, feeling her expression churn right through him, cutting with an agonising pleasure.
Abby gazed back, his eyes flashing back at her like globes of mercury gleaming in the dark, sending reams of silvery enchantment into every fibre of her existence. Comforted by the strong grip of his hands against her back, she whispered slowly against his skin.
"Don't you dare let go." The humour did not disguise the seriousness of her tone, conveying the importance of her words, stretching them past just this precious moment in time. They kissed again, intoxicating each other with the memories of a past not as tainted as they remembered. Her hands drifted to his shoulders, eager to find more safety in this unconventional embrace, feeling the perfect cotton against the outline of his body. Teasingly, he removed one of his hands from her back, eager to shift his attention. Breaking the kiss again, he moved his hand to trace the outline of her jaw with a delicate, intricate touch.
"Bastard," she teased in mock anger, "I told you not to let go." Abby soon forgave him when he ran his fingers through her hair in an impossibly tender gesture, the streaks of colour fading along with legacy of another woman inside that she had long left behind.
"Insults will get you everywhere," Luka replied swiftly, sensuously, starting to feel uncomfortable, despite the sweetness of the situation. He fixed her with an alarmingly powerful gaze, full of emotion, fearless, before gently attempting to disentangle them from their blissful mess. Once successful, they made their way slowly to the top of the stairs, mixing with the shadows, connected by a tight hold of each other's hand. Emancipated from the dark, they tangled in the imperfection of grey, as another twisting kiss led them closer to the ochre light of the day.
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, I still feel a tiny bit unsure about this chap :)
Author's note: More strong language!!
IMPORTANT: The next chapter, 19, may mean that I will have to up the rating to R. So please, I don't want to lose anyone who has been reading this, this story will not have disappeared, it will just be in the "All" or "R" rated section. If you don't want to read the R bit (it's not definite yet though) then please skip to Ch.20, which will be back to PG-13. Thanks!!
The morning was darker, and even darker still squeezed into the minimal space of the staircase. Light pooled in haemorrhages of colour and understanding at the top and the bottom, yet the middle was a black vault of tar, pitchblende, carbon and bitumen. Somewhere in this space, lingering between the gutter and the stars was Abby, the cool yet stagnant air nipping at her bare legs. A casual flick of her thumb turned gas to flame as if she were some sort of alchemist, as she neatly lit her first cigarette of the day. At some time close to 4 a.m. She needed the nicotine to control the confusion, frustration and hope doing somersaults in her blood. Near yet far, stranded between closeness and distance, day and night, something had to force some action. She exhaled hard, then groped for the stolen saucer that she had placed on the stair, resting neatly between her feet. The ceramic was cold against her fingertips as she tapped and flicked ash into it, the disarray mocking her supposed emotions. She needed no more time, no more silence, no more sadness. Not even solace was an option anymore.
It had been at least twenty minutes since she had abandoned her attempts to sleep. How could she, with a kiss still silent on her lips, fingerprints etched on her clothes, disorder looped like a spiral in her head? She glanced upward, revelling in the pleasure of a secret cigarette, while wondering if Mo was still soundly asleep on his couch. What would he think of this mixed-up state of affairs? "Life's too fucking short," he would have said. Damn right, nice theory, but it was always different in practice.
"I smelt smoke, where's the fire?" Luka's voice behind her, short, shocking, cocooned in the minimal space. She held her left hand high in the air, waving the glowing tip in his direction. His attention caught by the toxic glow, he tenderly gripped her wrist with one hand while delicately easing the Marlboro from between her fingertips with the other. Easing his frame into the impossible space, Luka juggled with the cigarette while finally occupying the other half of the step. They were crammed together, she felt the heat of his forearm as an abrasive delight, the denim of his jeans scratching warmth onto her skin.
"You're a very bad liar, Luka, you know that?" Her glance was tantamount to an accusation, despite being some sort of compliment.
"I'm glad..." "That you can tell." He had told her too many lies, some that he had attempted to repair, some that may have been unrepairable.
His first smoke since Africa was accompanied by a slight nostalgia, a slight repulsion, a cycle of emotion. Abby watched, enthralled by the coils of smoke twisting in the air, creating subliminal messages.
"I'm..."
"I don't want a fucking apology. Anything but a goddamned sorry." Anger had disconnected itself from her tone, her barely audible whisper was more of a plea. Cautiously, slowly, he reached for the saucer, then violently corkscrewed the cigarette to nothing.
"I wasn't going to apologise. I was going to explain." Luka felt her move, just slightly, maybe a shrug, maybe a shiver.
Her reply surprised him. "Good." Despite being caressed, then abandoned, Abby no longer wished to concern herself with the past. Going around in circles of apology was no use to either of them.
"Do you think I'm fearless?"
Her trademark sarcastic laugh was followed by genuine confusion.
"What?"
It would have been easy to perceive him as fearless: someone who had seen so much, some things so haunting that others could barely conceptualise. Some things were beyond comprehension.
"I don't think anybody is fearless...it's impossible." She replied while her fingertips still mourned the loss of the cigarette, a gap where it had rested still visible.
It was his realisation that not everything was impossible that had been troublesome. Generations of belief systems and myths told you it was only possible to love one person in the world, and that was it. No second chances, no rebirth, no rediscovery. Even if he refused to define his feelings for Abby, he recognised their many wonderful threads: intense and irrational, beautiful and terrifying. Now he knew why he had sought solace in drink and sex. It was easier to feel nothing. To feel nothing when you were intoxicated. To feel nothing when you fucked a whore.
"I got scared. The things that I feel for you, they...frighten me sometimes." His voice was teeming with emotion.
"You should see me in my Halloween costume," she said, attempting to diffuse and destroy this fear. Leaning against him slightly, she felt the confusing contradictions of the muscular strength of his shoulder with his admission of vulnerability. She actually felt him smile, pleased that she could inject some humour into his life even at serious moments. Serious moments when he was admitting that he felt things for her. Whatever these things were, she could not disguise her delight as she caught his gaze momentarily. There it was again, a flicker of light between their eyes, as intricate and delicate as a firefly spinning in the blackness.
"I just didn't think...I could feel anything that was...powerful..again." Luka was choosing his adjectives carefully. All the complex networks of nerves and feelings within him had been corroded, corrupted and split by painful experience, fused and broken with hurt. He had not expected to go beyond some sort of repair and actually feel a kind of renewal. A place where it was possible to feel things that were powerful, stirring and important.
"You're the one who knows all about risk, what makes you so scared of it now? I'm not that scary. Even at 4 am."
He smirked, feeling both childish and less vulnerable at the same time.
"It's stupid, I know." Abby put a cold hand on his warm arm, the friction and contrast both uncomfortable and exhilarating.
"It's not so stupid. Fear can be pretty irrational sometimes. Pretty much most of the time."
She watched the impossible darkness melting before her eyes, covering and protecting them. She allowed herself a secret, wry smile. That felt like a one hundred percent genetic pearl of wisdom, straight from Maggie's canon of reason and unreason. Slowly, she moved her hand down his arm in one liquid motion, closing her comparatively small hand over his. Abby laid back slightly, stretching like a sun-drenched cheetah. Leaning casually against the wall, she angled her body both close and far away from his. Observing with interest, she saw the half-grin still prominent on his face, still amused at their predicament. Feeling a rush of humour, she emitted a true, intimate laugh which leapt perfectly in the quiet. Luka mirrored her actions, sloping casually backwards, cautious not to sever their connection as she gripped his hand ungracefully. He met her amicable eyes with the raise of a questioning eyebrow, still somewhat amused.
"I'm missing the joke, Abby. You're gonna have to explain."
"It's funny, I feel like I just spent the last few weeks slowly learning not to be afraid anymore." Her tone became frank but still optimistic. Turning the tables slightly, Luka pulled his hand from underneath hers and proceeded to engulf her fingers with his hand. What was there to be afraid of, when he was gripping life and the future in his hand, feeling the slow beat of the pulse in her wrist? A second chance was not to be passed up, but to be held onto.
"And when do you complete your education?" His tone of voice made education sound like the sexiest thing that had ever existed, while his hand tugged hers closer.
"I'd say..right about now." With a movement as quick as lightning, Abby replaced the smile on his lips with a teasing, luxurious kiss, her body contorted in an awkward, rapturous mess as she leant in closer.
Aware of her discomfort, Luka shifted slowly to the middle of the stair, then pulled her uncouthly into his lap, pleased that she instinctively moved her legs outside of his, as his hands fixed on her back. He deepened the kiss, tasting the hope, the life, the silent meanings in her mouth, the unspoken words passing between them in the sweetest discourse, the final act of communication. They soon pulled apart, as she was laughing at their absurd position.
"This is getting dangerous, I may have to renew my life insurance," she said, breathlessly content.
"You were the one who wanted all the risk," he said, with a smile, gazing into her eager, joyous eyes, feeling her expression churn right through him, cutting with an agonising pleasure.
Abby gazed back, his eyes flashing back at her like globes of mercury gleaming in the dark, sending reams of silvery enchantment into every fibre of her existence. Comforted by the strong grip of his hands against her back, she whispered slowly against his skin.
"Don't you dare let go." The humour did not disguise the seriousness of her tone, conveying the importance of her words, stretching them past just this precious moment in time. They kissed again, intoxicating each other with the memories of a past not as tainted as they remembered. Her hands drifted to his shoulders, eager to find more safety in this unconventional embrace, feeling the perfect cotton against the outline of his body. Teasingly, he removed one of his hands from her back, eager to shift his attention. Breaking the kiss again, he moved his hand to trace the outline of her jaw with a delicate, intricate touch.
"Bastard," she teased in mock anger, "I told you not to let go." Abby soon forgave him when he ran his fingers through her hair in an impossibly tender gesture, the streaks of colour fading along with legacy of another woman inside that she had long left behind.
"Insults will get you everywhere," Luka replied swiftly, sensuously, starting to feel uncomfortable, despite the sweetness of the situation. He fixed her with an alarmingly powerful gaze, full of emotion, fearless, before gently attempting to disentangle them from their blissful mess. Once successful, they made their way slowly to the top of the stairs, mixing with the shadows, connected by a tight hold of each other's hand. Emancipated from the dark, they tangled in the imperfection of grey, as another twisting kiss led them closer to the ochre light of the day.