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 keep 'em comin'. Gracias. :)
The hot weather had brought with it braces of brazen evenings. This one was no exception. The stratosphere ached heavily with a smoky red mist, like a calligraphy of distress flares waved in chaotic patterns. The sun was as nonchalant as ever, dipping its light just above the lake's calm shore, turning its waters to a viscous ravine of butterscotch. Barely a sigh troubled its surface, but barely an eye was there to witness this placid state. Only the sand was disrupted; by the slow rhythm of footprints, the quiet timbre of voices, even the faint shiver of a melody in the air tripped a beat into the coarse grains.
Through his eyes, they were just silhouettes, dark, perfect shapes against febrile orange and yellow. He seemed an eternity away, lazily slouching against the smooth concrete wall that separated the sand from the road. Guitar alive in his lap, wriggling like a child, he idly, instinctively composed tunes; tempered and tensioned strings trembling between his fingertips. Mo tipped his gaze towards the horizon momentarily, committing images to his memory like photographs, storing them and turning them to sound.
"It was a test, wasn't it?" Ultraviolet slapped on their backs as they walked side by side, hand in hand, footprints of the past behind them quickly quenched by a thirsty, gentle, lapping wave, like a cat's tongue in milk.
"What?" Abby gazed up at him slowly, confused. She was almost amused by the question.
"When you asked me the other day if I was going back. To Africa." Luka almost regretted this speculation immediately, staring back at the questions in her eyes. Yet it had been on his mind last night, when he had been awake in the middle of a fiery Chicago night, no air, just heat hanging mercilessly, oh so reminiscent of those African nights.
"I wasn't being...cryptic." She paused for a moment to watch the water silently contemplating a change of pace. "I just wanted to make sure that.."
"I didn't want to be with you for just one night." Strangely enough, it was the missing half of her statement and a kind of assertion all blended into one. Luka knew that his string of casual relationships had been common knowledge and feared that their existence, albeit in the past, would be casting shadows of doubt in these early stages. He wouldn't have blamed Abby for being suspicious. Her eyes were still on the water, though she pulled her palm away from his slightly, before squeezing it back into place, a soundless interaction, mimicking the slow tide. Was everybody attempting to enter these fragile slivers of doubt into her mind? Questions of his fidelity had been a brief, passing thought. She watched, mesmerised, as the same sands were churned in the same liquid, time after time. No change, no renewal. Change was good, wasn't it? The same instincts that had guided her to this moment in time were telling her that things had changed, and for the better.
"Did I pass?" He pressed on, needing some kind of clarification.
The urgency, the stirring pathos of regret and shame in his eyes moved her more than she thought it could as she moved from the rippling waves back to his wavering gaze.
"Maybe." Abby exhaled and then smiled, keen to appease his discomfort. "I wouldn't be standing here if I thought that I didn't trust you."
"What if I wanted to go back?"
"To being promiscuous? Then I'll kick your sorry ass, mister."
Luka's expression mixed into something between a smile and a grimace.
"To the Congo."
"Oh, I'll make sure you don't want to go back," she replied with an air of certainty. "Jesus, Luka, didn't you read Heart of Darkness in high school?"An imagined Africa seemed less threatening than a real one.
Slight exasperation penetrated her humorous tone. Did everything about her send men running head-first into war-torn continents?
"It probably didn't translate so well," he said, without much sadness.
Luka examined the sand beneath him, its gravely, coarse darkness alien and uncomfortable. It seemed to cling and irritate, wishing to leave a permanent reminder of its unkindness for some time. Despite this, the air was still, breathless and peaceful. The indecisive tide had become sluggish again, its crisp edges caressing the pearl-hard sands, softening and cleansing.
"I'll bet this sucks in comparison with the beaches back home," Abby announced unexpectedly, as if she had read his mind. She was not-so blindly reaching out into that concealed, secretive part of his being.
"Yeah. Whiter sand, clearer sea. Oh, and topless sunbathing is considered acceptable. That's not personal experience, I read it in a travel guide. That made me laugh."
She laughed aloud, sending a shudder of happiness convulsing through the atmosphere.
"You'll have to take me one day. I mean, not for the gratuitous nudity, 'cause we can have plenty of that here." "But seriously, it would be nice. To meet your family." She wanted to satisfy her burning curiosity about these unmapped pathways of his life.
"Maybe one day. Sometime. It's not always easy to go back." Luka felt a maze of emotions circulating through him, an emptiness mixed with his delight at her energy. He looked at the sand again, watching it displace beneath his feet, sheer pressure carving the marks into its uneven surface. The grains seemed to paint more than a few memories on the tired canvas of his mind. He looked at Abby, her face seemingly asking for these pieces of himself, these fragments.
"My daughter loved the beach. We used to dig these holes and build race cars. A bucket for the steering wheel, a spade for the shift and a lollipop stick for the number one on the front." He let the agony slide through him before smiling at the vivid brilliance of such a perfect moment, so aware that at this very second, he seemed to be creating another of those memories. A cruel, but selfless moment passed between them, an understanding without words. He was giving without even being asked, allowing her into this world would make it all the less painful.
Abby swiftly pulled him into an embrace, not knowing who wanted or needed the comfort more, not trying to hide any tears or any joy that could have meshed themselves together in this instance. Just needing to feel this non-sexual intimacy. To be aware of nothing but slow, timid heartbeats, the tired disbelief of their breath as they stood still, the tide curling up inside seashells and being captured forever as a blissful sound. So they became silhouettes again, dark, shapely, untormented figures, close and vivid against the mandarin and sulphur sky. They lingered for some time before the peace was interrupted by a familiar, vibrant voice.
"Throw her in!" Mo encouraged, his tone halfway between a shout and a scream.
Abby's laugh disrupted the fabric of Luka's shirt before she pulled out of his arms and looked at him quizzically, still holding his hands. She glanced in Mo's direction and then looked back again.
"So, am I going to be competing for your affection?"
He laughed. "As cute as he is, I very much doubt it. He's going on some sort of tour soon anyway."
"I might need just a bit more convincing." Her tone was devilishly playful.
"Well, seeing as topless sunbathing is probably not acceptable right now, you'll have to wait until we get home."
"Lucky for you, I'm very patient."
After they had left, their footprints were erased by the warm, languid water but their conversations would remain for some time, such was the intensity. Now the only silhouette was Mo, the sky bleeding onto his shoulders, the sound of his songs shivering in the silent sands.
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 keep 'em comin'. Gracias. :)
The hot weather had brought with it braces of brazen evenings. This one was no exception. The stratosphere ached heavily with a smoky red mist, like a calligraphy of distress flares waved in chaotic patterns. The sun was as nonchalant as ever, dipping its light just above the lake's calm shore, turning its waters to a viscous ravine of butterscotch. Barely a sigh troubled its surface, but barely an eye was there to witness this placid state. Only the sand was disrupted; by the slow rhythm of footprints, the quiet timbre of voices, even the faint shiver of a melody in the air tripped a beat into the coarse grains.
Through his eyes, they were just silhouettes, dark, perfect shapes against febrile orange and yellow. He seemed an eternity away, lazily slouching against the smooth concrete wall that separated the sand from the road. Guitar alive in his lap, wriggling like a child, he idly, instinctively composed tunes; tempered and tensioned strings trembling between his fingertips. Mo tipped his gaze towards the horizon momentarily, committing images to his memory like photographs, storing them and turning them to sound.
"It was a test, wasn't it?" Ultraviolet slapped on their backs as they walked side by side, hand in hand, footprints of the past behind them quickly quenched by a thirsty, gentle, lapping wave, like a cat's tongue in milk.
"What?" Abby gazed up at him slowly, confused. She was almost amused by the question.
"When you asked me the other day if I was going back. To Africa." Luka almost regretted this speculation immediately, staring back at the questions in her eyes. Yet it had been on his mind last night, when he had been awake in the middle of a fiery Chicago night, no air, just heat hanging mercilessly, oh so reminiscent of those African nights.
"I wasn't being...cryptic." She paused for a moment to watch the water silently contemplating a change of pace. "I just wanted to make sure that.."
"I didn't want to be with you for just one night." Strangely enough, it was the missing half of her statement and a kind of assertion all blended into one. Luka knew that his string of casual relationships had been common knowledge and feared that their existence, albeit in the past, would be casting shadows of doubt in these early stages. He wouldn't have blamed Abby for being suspicious. Her eyes were still on the water, though she pulled her palm away from his slightly, before squeezing it back into place, a soundless interaction, mimicking the slow tide. Was everybody attempting to enter these fragile slivers of doubt into her mind? Questions of his fidelity had been a brief, passing thought. She watched, mesmerised, as the same sands were churned in the same liquid, time after time. No change, no renewal. Change was good, wasn't it? The same instincts that had guided her to this moment in time were telling her that things had changed, and for the better.
"Did I pass?" He pressed on, needing some kind of clarification.
The urgency, the stirring pathos of regret and shame in his eyes moved her more than she thought it could as she moved from the rippling waves back to his wavering gaze.
"Maybe." Abby exhaled and then smiled, keen to appease his discomfort. "I wouldn't be standing here if I thought that I didn't trust you."
"What if I wanted to go back?"
"To being promiscuous? Then I'll kick your sorry ass, mister."
Luka's expression mixed into something between a smile and a grimace.
"To the Congo."
"Oh, I'll make sure you don't want to go back," she replied with an air of certainty. "Jesus, Luka, didn't you read Heart of Darkness in high school?"An imagined Africa seemed less threatening than a real one.
Slight exasperation penetrated her humorous tone. Did everything about her send men running head-first into war-torn continents?
"It probably didn't translate so well," he said, without much sadness.
Luka examined the sand beneath him, its gravely, coarse darkness alien and uncomfortable. It seemed to cling and irritate, wishing to leave a permanent reminder of its unkindness for some time. Despite this, the air was still, breathless and peaceful. The indecisive tide had become sluggish again, its crisp edges caressing the pearl-hard sands, softening and cleansing.
"I'll bet this sucks in comparison with the beaches back home," Abby announced unexpectedly, as if she had read his mind. She was not-so blindly reaching out into that concealed, secretive part of his being.
"Yeah. Whiter sand, clearer sea. Oh, and topless sunbathing is considered acceptable. That's not personal experience, I read it in a travel guide. That made me laugh."
She laughed aloud, sending a shudder of happiness convulsing through the atmosphere.
"You'll have to take me one day. I mean, not for the gratuitous nudity, 'cause we can have plenty of that here." "But seriously, it would be nice. To meet your family." She wanted to satisfy her burning curiosity about these unmapped pathways of his life.
"Maybe one day. Sometime. It's not always easy to go back." Luka felt a maze of emotions circulating through him, an emptiness mixed with his delight at her energy. He looked at the sand again, watching it displace beneath his feet, sheer pressure carving the marks into its uneven surface. The grains seemed to paint more than a few memories on the tired canvas of his mind. He looked at Abby, her face seemingly asking for these pieces of himself, these fragments.
"My daughter loved the beach. We used to dig these holes and build race cars. A bucket for the steering wheel, a spade for the shift and a lollipop stick for the number one on the front." He let the agony slide through him before smiling at the vivid brilliance of such a perfect moment, so aware that at this very second, he seemed to be creating another of those memories. A cruel, but selfless moment passed between them, an understanding without words. He was giving without even being asked, allowing her into this world would make it all the less painful.
Abby swiftly pulled him into an embrace, not knowing who wanted or needed the comfort more, not trying to hide any tears or any joy that could have meshed themselves together in this instance. Just needing to feel this non-sexual intimacy. To be aware of nothing but slow, timid heartbeats, the tired disbelief of their breath as they stood still, the tide curling up inside seashells and being captured forever as a blissful sound. So they became silhouettes again, dark, shapely, untormented figures, close and vivid against the mandarin and sulphur sky. They lingered for some time before the peace was interrupted by a familiar, vibrant voice.
"Throw her in!" Mo encouraged, his tone halfway between a shout and a scream.
Abby's laugh disrupted the fabric of Luka's shirt before she pulled out of his arms and looked at him quizzically, still holding his hands. She glanced in Mo's direction and then looked back again.
"So, am I going to be competing for your affection?"
He laughed. "As cute as he is, I very much doubt it. He's going on some sort of tour soon anyway."
"I might need just a bit more convincing." Her tone was devilishly playful.
"Well, seeing as topless sunbathing is probably not acceptable right now, you'll have to wait until we get home."
"Lucky for you, I'm very patient."
After they had left, their footprints were erased by the warm, languid water but their conversations would remain for some time, such was the intensity. Now the only silhouette was Mo, the sky bleeding onto his shoulders, the sound of his songs shivering in the silent sands.