Title: Hotter Than July
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 do leave your comments, as always I appreciate them very much :)
Author's note: Thanks for all the feedback from the last chapter, glad to see you're all still with me :) I've had an up-and-down week this week, and this chapter took me an eternity to finish!! But I'm happy with it now and I hope you enjoy it :)
A high, god-like sun dripped luscious caramel light into another blue, cloudless, untouched sky. Circuits of warmth were already trailing through the air like jet vapours, building invisible joy in the atmosphere. Luka had found himself drawn to the window, keen to observe the outside world that had escaped him so easily over the last few precious hours or so. On an adjacent building, a dark shape rested; a vulture, eyeing the city with sadistic eyes. For a moment, he would have believed it was some kind of demonic omen, but it swiftly departed, the vulgar, grotesque bird spreading out its wings and disappearing into the maze of streets and skyscrapers. He looked down at himself, dressed and wearing his Croatia football shirt to atone for last night's traitorous behaviour. Still, it was a strange garment, the badge of his country on the left, the all-American Nike swoosh on the right. But Nike was the Greek goddess of victory, so it all came back to those Ancient Greeks in the end.
He turned his attention back to a sleeping Abby, peacefully wrapped up in that perfect colour which was as vivid as Cleopatra's sails. A slight smile on her face, the faintest curve of satisfaction. Her hand pressed flat against the pillow, the very space that he had vacated, in her subconscious mode she still believed she was touching him. As comfortable as he had been to wake in this embrace, her hands constant and soft against him, he had to get up. It was just habit, he was used to it. From being shaken awake as a teenager, being not-so reluctantly hauled to Mass to the clamorous joy of being hassled awake by Jasna, eager to show him the brilliance of a new day. All now just fragments of the past, pieces of memory. Moving quietly, he sat on the edge of the bed, then delicately, with a single finger, traced the length of her spine, a subtle caress to show him this was real. Deciding that if his early rising could be put down to habit and that most habits were bad ones, he then slid cautiously back under the sheets, repositioning her hand on his chest.
After a few slow, speculative heartbeats wavered against her palm, Abby stirred, beginning to emerge from her peaceful, dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes as quickly as she shut them again, the harsh sunlight causing her more discomfort than she had expected. Finally, she opened one eye and smiled, more content than she had been in some time.
"Good morning."
"It is," she replied. As she moved to look at him, there was a resounding jangle as the metal of their necklaces clashed.
"We have more jewellery than Mr T."
She laughed. "What do you know about the A-Team?"
"Don't you watch daytime TV when you're working nights?"
"I think semi-consciousness is preferable."
"Maybe."
Her arm snaked more thoroughly around him, she rested her warm cheek against the cold, synthetic nylon of his shirt, savouring the moment, twisting about against the cotton sheets. Maybe mornings weren't so bad after all.
"You want some coffee?" Abby sat up slightly, turning on her side, digging her elbow into the pillow, her palm resting against her cheek.
"So I can burn out my insides before breakfast? I'll pass."
Luka should have seen that one coming. But he pressed on.
"Tea?"
"Tea. How very British of you." He moved so that he was also resting on an elbow, meeting her eyeline.
"Do you always have to be difficult before 10 am?"
She flashed a salacious grin before replying. "I can be very easy if you want."
He smiled, with a slight shake of the head, placing a hand on her bare shoulder.
"I have to save my energy for the sick."
"Didn't I tell you about my cold?" She was not about to lose this humorous battle.
"Now you're just faking it."
"Give me what I want and I promise you I won't be."
They laughed together this time, before instinctively pulling each other in for a lingering, soft kiss, white sunlight flowing across their tired faces, her fingers tangled in his short, dark hair, his hand spanning from her shoulder to her back. She tasted the richness of coffee, then the sharpness of mint, while a hint of chocolate and tobacco lingered against his tongue. They finally disconnected with a heartfelt reluctance, Abby returned the side of her face to the pillow, feeling it soft, comfortable, warm. Her eyes were sincere, her hair flowing behind her in a messy cascade. Luka wanted to frame that image in his mind, to keep a mental picture of such unconventional attractiveness. He looked at her intently for a few moments, enjoying the simplicity of her stare, her eyes always communicating tiny messages. She moved closer again, and kissed him warmly on the cheek, before smiling at him again.
"Some tea would be great."
He responded with a gentle, curious nod, a quick smile before getting up slowly. Abby sat up properly this time, pulling on the sheet roughly to whirl it erratically around her body. She watched as he went out slowly, his posture sometimes graceful, sometimes uncomfortable. She was surprised as he stopped in the doorway, leaning casually against the door frame, the light alive in his eyes.
"Should I slip something in it to calm your urges?" Luka folded his arms speculatively, his tone teasing.
Abby swiftly decided that the pillow she was resting against was far too comfortable and soft to make an adequate weapon, so instead, she effortlessly stretched and flung her abandoned bra at him with a determined, yet playful vigour. Again she was surprised as he caught it in one outstretched hand. Luka looked up, meeting her mischievous grin with a wicked smile.
"That really wasn't sensible. It doesn't even fit me."
"Give it a couple more years of middle age, and you'll fill it out very nicely."
"I should come over there and make you pay for that comment."
"You'd better make it tea for two then."
For a few, still, perfect moments they were enchanted by each other's happiness. It wasn't meant to be this good, was it? Luka was more than tempted to back up his comment as he observed her sitting up, smiling, laughing, undeniably at her best. Deciding that maybe he should go and prepare some sort of breakfast, he gently threw the garment back at her and finally tore himself away.
She watched him go again, a flash of white and red with a dash of blue. Abby stretched contentedly, still grinning, giving herself a little time for some contemplation. She had known too many mornings where they had left each other's arms with barely a goodbye. It was different now. She trusted her instincts. Slowly, she wrapped the violet sheet more carefully around herself like a dress, tucking it in between her breasts to secure it in place. As she finally got up, the length of the sheet trailed across the floor behind her, flowing like some statuesque ball gown. She took a long shower, the arrowheads of warm rain like fingertips on her skin, a delightful reminder of how her body had been so feverishly caressed in the early hours. She regrouped her scattered clothes, but borrowed a shirt, keen to feel the newness of fresh fabric. Making her way down the stairs, she tied back her hair, darker thanks to its dampness but drying quickly in the already humid air.
The vibrancy of the morning then hit her: searing white sunshine, a hundred differing aromas, a slight breeze lilting in through the window, even the newspaper creating a sweet cadence as its pages lingered between Luka's fingers. Had he been out, or did he get it delivered? Slowly, she produced her hand in front of him, he read her signals immediately and his palm received the crucifix that she had finally removed from around her neck. He felt it heavy, slightly wet from the shower, glowing as prominently in the sunshine as it had in the wondrous dusk.
"You don't want to keep it?" Mysticism jumped in his tone, half-way between seriousness and jest.
She smiled, then spoke reflectively. "I don't need to be protected."
Their eyes met for a moment, then Luka was thankful that her attention was distracted by the clear, amber ball of the teapot. He thought of Brian again and knew that one day they would have to deal with that. That was one secret that he had to unburden from his shoulders. Not that he was regretful, or guilty, but because he wanted to open up the past and get on with the future. Not just in the case of that jerk either, but with everything else. And he meant everything. He felt a little uncertainty churn, marking him as clearly as the dark newsprint that scarred his fingers. Abby was not going to give him a round of applause for his act of vengeance, he was certain of that. Even if a tiny part of her wanted had wanted that man to suffer, now was not a good time to deal with this. Things were good, he was not going to fuck it all up again, the fine sands of time would prevail with all the answers. He hoped. It wasn't going to be easy.
In all truth, Abby had been glad to distract herself with the curiousness of the translucent teapot, as she too was considering a few pressing thoughts. Well, one mainly: was he going back to Africa? She gripped the teapot with a handful of sleeve, not just for protection, but because the sleeves were far too long anyway. She had lost count of the times she had heard his laughter this morning and she heard it again, her fear was melting away, as she watched the milk and tea fusing in the mug to a caramel amalgam.
"You could've borrowed a short-sleeved shirt." Abby elicited a contemplative half-grin, and Luka excepted the usual witty comment. She sipped slowly, before deciding to be totally frank. "So, are you going back? To Africa?" He diverted his gaze from the news and gave her his full attention.
"You'd miss me far too much."
She smiled fully this time, leaning towards him. "Don't flatter yourself."
"It was good for me. Well, in a mental sense. I wouldn't recommend malaria to anybody. I don't need it now." "I'm healed, you're educated, we're all fixed up." Educated? Then she remembered their conversation on the stairs and felt even better, but sensed almost mockery in his tone. Or maybe it was disbelief at finally being dealt a good hand of cards in life's never-ending game.
"You still need to work on your lying." Her voice was light, but Luka was quickly aware that just maybe he had left too much room for speculation in his tone.
"We're getting there, right?" His voice was touchingly sincere this time.
She nodded, looking into his eyes. "Yeah, we are." "But I didn't have to tell you that."
"And I didn't have to ask." It's just.."
"Yeah, I know. Things aren't meant to be this good." Soon enough, light and mischief were in Abby's eyes again as she tilted her head speculatively.
"Come here, you have something in your eye." She ran a thumb delicately across his cheekbone, as if to move to inspect his eye, then put both hands on the back of his neck and teased him with a dangerously slow-burning kiss.
Luka pulled away with a considered difficulty, knowing that he would never make it to work later if she carried on this way.
"You're telling me that I need to work on my lying? That was as see-through as the teapot."
"We'll just have to work on it together." She picked up the mug and walked over to the open window, letting the breeze caress her as the sun flamed streams of pleasured light across the room. Instinctively, he followed, finally standing behind her and slipping his arms around her waist, resting his head against hers. The city in the sunshine was as ambivalent as their embrace; reminiscent of sun, sweat, mayhem, misery, joy, order. So they were mirrored, in the glass, in the world outside. Together.
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 do leave your comments, as always I appreciate them very much :)
Author's note: Thanks for all the feedback from the last chapter, glad to see you're all still with me :) I've had an up-and-down week this week, and this chapter took me an eternity to finish!! But I'm happy with it now and I hope you enjoy it :)
A high, god-like sun dripped luscious caramel light into another blue, cloudless, untouched sky. Circuits of warmth were already trailing through the air like jet vapours, building invisible joy in the atmosphere. Luka had found himself drawn to the window, keen to observe the outside world that had escaped him so easily over the last few precious hours or so. On an adjacent building, a dark shape rested; a vulture, eyeing the city with sadistic eyes. For a moment, he would have believed it was some kind of demonic omen, but it swiftly departed, the vulgar, grotesque bird spreading out its wings and disappearing into the maze of streets and skyscrapers. He looked down at himself, dressed and wearing his Croatia football shirt to atone for last night's traitorous behaviour. Still, it was a strange garment, the badge of his country on the left, the all-American Nike swoosh on the right. But Nike was the Greek goddess of victory, so it all came back to those Ancient Greeks in the end.
He turned his attention back to a sleeping Abby, peacefully wrapped up in that perfect colour which was as vivid as Cleopatra's sails. A slight smile on her face, the faintest curve of satisfaction. Her hand pressed flat against the pillow, the very space that he had vacated, in her subconscious mode she still believed she was touching him. As comfortable as he had been to wake in this embrace, her hands constant and soft against him, he had to get up. It was just habit, he was used to it. From being shaken awake as a teenager, being not-so reluctantly hauled to Mass to the clamorous joy of being hassled awake by Jasna, eager to show him the brilliance of a new day. All now just fragments of the past, pieces of memory. Moving quietly, he sat on the edge of the bed, then delicately, with a single finger, traced the length of her spine, a subtle caress to show him this was real. Deciding that if his early rising could be put down to habit and that most habits were bad ones, he then slid cautiously back under the sheets, repositioning her hand on his chest.
After a few slow, speculative heartbeats wavered against her palm, Abby stirred, beginning to emerge from her peaceful, dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes as quickly as she shut them again, the harsh sunlight causing her more discomfort than she had expected. Finally, she opened one eye and smiled, more content than she had been in some time.
"Good morning."
"It is," she replied. As she moved to look at him, there was a resounding jangle as the metal of their necklaces clashed.
"We have more jewellery than Mr T."
She laughed. "What do you know about the A-Team?"
"Don't you watch daytime TV when you're working nights?"
"I think semi-consciousness is preferable."
"Maybe."
Her arm snaked more thoroughly around him, she rested her warm cheek against the cold, synthetic nylon of his shirt, savouring the moment, twisting about against the cotton sheets. Maybe mornings weren't so bad after all.
"You want some coffee?" Abby sat up slightly, turning on her side, digging her elbow into the pillow, her palm resting against her cheek.
"So I can burn out my insides before breakfast? I'll pass."
Luka should have seen that one coming. But he pressed on.
"Tea?"
"Tea. How very British of you." He moved so that he was also resting on an elbow, meeting her eyeline.
"Do you always have to be difficult before 10 am?"
She flashed a salacious grin before replying. "I can be very easy if you want."
He smiled, with a slight shake of the head, placing a hand on her bare shoulder.
"I have to save my energy for the sick."
"Didn't I tell you about my cold?" She was not about to lose this humorous battle.
"Now you're just faking it."
"Give me what I want and I promise you I won't be."
They laughed together this time, before instinctively pulling each other in for a lingering, soft kiss, white sunlight flowing across their tired faces, her fingers tangled in his short, dark hair, his hand spanning from her shoulder to her back. She tasted the richness of coffee, then the sharpness of mint, while a hint of chocolate and tobacco lingered against his tongue. They finally disconnected with a heartfelt reluctance, Abby returned the side of her face to the pillow, feeling it soft, comfortable, warm. Her eyes were sincere, her hair flowing behind her in a messy cascade. Luka wanted to frame that image in his mind, to keep a mental picture of such unconventional attractiveness. He looked at her intently for a few moments, enjoying the simplicity of her stare, her eyes always communicating tiny messages. She moved closer again, and kissed him warmly on the cheek, before smiling at him again.
"Some tea would be great."
He responded with a gentle, curious nod, a quick smile before getting up slowly. Abby sat up properly this time, pulling on the sheet roughly to whirl it erratically around her body. She watched as he went out slowly, his posture sometimes graceful, sometimes uncomfortable. She was surprised as he stopped in the doorway, leaning casually against the door frame, the light alive in his eyes.
"Should I slip something in it to calm your urges?" Luka folded his arms speculatively, his tone teasing.
Abby swiftly decided that the pillow she was resting against was far too comfortable and soft to make an adequate weapon, so instead, she effortlessly stretched and flung her abandoned bra at him with a determined, yet playful vigour. Again she was surprised as he caught it in one outstretched hand. Luka looked up, meeting her mischievous grin with a wicked smile.
"That really wasn't sensible. It doesn't even fit me."
"Give it a couple more years of middle age, and you'll fill it out very nicely."
"I should come over there and make you pay for that comment."
"You'd better make it tea for two then."
For a few, still, perfect moments they were enchanted by each other's happiness. It wasn't meant to be this good, was it? Luka was more than tempted to back up his comment as he observed her sitting up, smiling, laughing, undeniably at her best. Deciding that maybe he should go and prepare some sort of breakfast, he gently threw the garment back at her and finally tore himself away.
She watched him go again, a flash of white and red with a dash of blue. Abby stretched contentedly, still grinning, giving herself a little time for some contemplation. She had known too many mornings where they had left each other's arms with barely a goodbye. It was different now. She trusted her instincts. Slowly, she wrapped the violet sheet more carefully around herself like a dress, tucking it in between her breasts to secure it in place. As she finally got up, the length of the sheet trailed across the floor behind her, flowing like some statuesque ball gown. She took a long shower, the arrowheads of warm rain like fingertips on her skin, a delightful reminder of how her body had been so feverishly caressed in the early hours. She regrouped her scattered clothes, but borrowed a shirt, keen to feel the newness of fresh fabric. Making her way down the stairs, she tied back her hair, darker thanks to its dampness but drying quickly in the already humid air.
The vibrancy of the morning then hit her: searing white sunshine, a hundred differing aromas, a slight breeze lilting in through the window, even the newspaper creating a sweet cadence as its pages lingered between Luka's fingers. Had he been out, or did he get it delivered? Slowly, she produced her hand in front of him, he read her signals immediately and his palm received the crucifix that she had finally removed from around her neck. He felt it heavy, slightly wet from the shower, glowing as prominently in the sunshine as it had in the wondrous dusk.
"You don't want to keep it?" Mysticism jumped in his tone, half-way between seriousness and jest.
She smiled, then spoke reflectively. "I don't need to be protected."
Their eyes met for a moment, then Luka was thankful that her attention was distracted by the clear, amber ball of the teapot. He thought of Brian again and knew that one day they would have to deal with that. That was one secret that he had to unburden from his shoulders. Not that he was regretful, or guilty, but because he wanted to open up the past and get on with the future. Not just in the case of that jerk either, but with everything else. And he meant everything. He felt a little uncertainty churn, marking him as clearly as the dark newsprint that scarred his fingers. Abby was not going to give him a round of applause for his act of vengeance, he was certain of that. Even if a tiny part of her wanted had wanted that man to suffer, now was not a good time to deal with this. Things were good, he was not going to fuck it all up again, the fine sands of time would prevail with all the answers. He hoped. It wasn't going to be easy.
In all truth, Abby had been glad to distract herself with the curiousness of the translucent teapot, as she too was considering a few pressing thoughts. Well, one mainly: was he going back to Africa? She gripped the teapot with a handful of sleeve, not just for protection, but because the sleeves were far too long anyway. She had lost count of the times she had heard his laughter this morning and she heard it again, her fear was melting away, as she watched the milk and tea fusing in the mug to a caramel amalgam.
"You could've borrowed a short-sleeved shirt." Abby elicited a contemplative half-grin, and Luka excepted the usual witty comment. She sipped slowly, before deciding to be totally frank. "So, are you going back? To Africa?" He diverted his gaze from the news and gave her his full attention.
"You'd miss me far too much."
She smiled fully this time, leaning towards him. "Don't flatter yourself."
"It was good for me. Well, in a mental sense. I wouldn't recommend malaria to anybody. I don't need it now." "I'm healed, you're educated, we're all fixed up." Educated? Then she remembered their conversation on the stairs and felt even better, but sensed almost mockery in his tone. Or maybe it was disbelief at finally being dealt a good hand of cards in life's never-ending game.
"You still need to work on your lying." Her voice was light, but Luka was quickly aware that just maybe he had left too much room for speculation in his tone.
"We're getting there, right?" His voice was touchingly sincere this time.
She nodded, looking into his eyes. "Yeah, we are." "But I didn't have to tell you that."
"And I didn't have to ask." It's just.."
"Yeah, I know. Things aren't meant to be this good." Soon enough, light and mischief were in Abby's eyes again as she tilted her head speculatively.
"Come here, you have something in your eye." She ran a thumb delicately across his cheekbone, as if to move to inspect his eye, then put both hands on the back of his neck and teased him with a dangerously slow-burning kiss.
Luka pulled away with a considered difficulty, knowing that he would never make it to work later if she carried on this way.
"You're telling me that I need to work on my lying? That was as see-through as the teapot."
"We'll just have to work on it together." She picked up the mug and walked over to the open window, letting the breeze caress her as the sun flamed streams of pleasured light across the room. Instinctively, he followed, finally standing behind her and slipping his arms around her waist, resting his head against hers. The city in the sunshine was as ambivalent as their embrace; reminiscent of sun, sweat, mayhem, misery, joy, order. So they were mirrored, in the glass, in the world outside. Together.