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Sunday Morning Song
Wouldn't it be something if everything changed?
On Sunday morning, Nathan awoke to the smell of bacon frying and nearly rolled right off the couch in shock. Who would be cooking at – he tossed a bleary glance at the clock – nine in the morning in his apartment? Both he and Brooke avoided the stove like the plague and, with Haley's continuing absence, it was actually beginning to gather dust.
"Brooke?" he called out, acknowledging her presence for the first time in days. They'd been avoiding each other all weekend, both wanting to sidestep the consequences of their blowout. "What are you doing?"
He found her standing sentry over a sizzling pan, spatula in hand and one brow arched at him. "Playing Parcheesi," she answered dryly, then rolled her eyes and indicated the table she'd set. "What does it look like I'm doing? Grab a chair, breakfast is almost ready."
"You don't cook," he argued faintly, but sat anyway, because just the scent of a real meal was making his mouth water. "Is this poisoned?"
She slid a few strips of bacon onto the plate in front of him, which was already home to two pancakes and a spoonful of scrambled eggs. "Hope not," she replied before taking the seat across from him and biting into her portion. "Mm. I may have missed my calling in life."
He had to agree. Maybe it was because his morning meals usually consisted of a few handfuls of Captain Crunch – dry, because he almost always forgot to buy milk once he'd run out – but this was the best breakfast he'd ever tasted. "This is good," he admitted. "So, uh, why are you doing this?"
"My car's not really in the shop," she told him.
Nathan straightened in his seat, not sure how that really connected to making him breakfast. "Okay. And?"
Brooke sighed and set her fork down. "It was repossessed last week. My parents are declaring bankruptcy. We're broke. That's why I needed a place to stay."
She was avoiding his eyes, but at least they were talking again. Nathan had been more stung by Brooke's powerful silent treatment than he cared to admit. "Okay," he said again, and shrugged. "That still doesn't answer the question. Why are you doing this?"
"I don't want to fight with you," she confessed, finally lifting her chin to meet his gaze. "I mean, I can't tell my parents about – anything that's happening, especially now. And with Peyton busy playing doctor with my ex-boyfriend, well, you're kind of the closest thing I've got to a friend. I don't want us to be mad at each other."
He knew it wasn't meant to be a guilt trip, but that didn't stop him from feeling awful. Brooke's life hadn't exactly been a bowl of cherries lately – apparently, it had been worse than she'd even let on – and him jumping down her throat about the toughest decision of her whole life hadn't helped matters. Not knowing what to say, Nathan settled for reaching across the table and taking her hand in his.
"I wasn't mad at you," he told her, which was the truth. He shrugged and glanced down, a little embarrassed. "I was mad at what you were saying. And I guess … I guess I was mad at Haley, too. I still am mad at Haley. Sorry I took it out on you."
"Hey, what good is a roommate if you can't use 'em as a punching bag every once in a while?" she joked, but the smile fell from her face as quickly as it had appeared. "Nathan. You're not wearing your wedding ring."
"I know." It was hidden in the bathroom medicine cabinet, waiting for him to decide what his next move would be. His fingers looked a little strange without it, but it didn't feel as bad as he'd imagined it would. "You may have been a bitch about it, but … you were right."
"I was?" Brooke's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "I mean, I know I was. I always am. But … about what, exactly?"
"Haley," he said simply. "Her tour. She didn't give me a say in the matter, and she should have. It made me think, maybe we weren't that much different from all the other high school couples, you know? Maybe we weren't ready to get married when we did."
"Gee, you think?" Brooke deadpanned, before she could stop herself, and Nathan surprised the both of them by laughing. "Sorry."
He quirked an eyebrow at her in a dead-on imitation of her signature look. "You know, you apologize an awful lot."
"Yeah, well, I screw up an awful lot." It was something she could suddenly laugh at, joke about. When had that happened? "But I always make up for it. So dig in before everything gets cold and all my hard work goes to waste."
"Sir, yes, sir," he laughed, and released her hand in favor of his fork. Then he busied himself shoveling food into his mouth, trying not to notice that it was only when his fingers weren't laced through hers that they actually felt empty.
XXX
Brooke had thought long and hard after fighting with Nathan, and she'd decided that come Monday morning, she would find Lucas and tell him everything. She would listen to his opinion and discuss their options. And then, one way or the other, it would be settled.
But for today, she needed to fortify herself. Usually, Brooke's idea of fortification came in the form of liquid courage, but that was obviously out of the question at this stage of the game. She'd decided instead to spend the day with Nathan, to make each minute count, and to laugh as much as she could.
"Hurry up, slowpoke," she called over her shoulder, adding a skip to her step. Nathan was following behind, his large, flat footprints swallowing the tiny digs she made in the sand. "We're gonna miss it!"
"We can't miss the sunset," he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth so the words could reach her. "The sky's right in front of us."
Her laughter floated back to him on the wind, the sound that had carried them through a day of crossword puzzles and old sitcoms. "Yeah, but I want the best view money can buy, so put your ass in gear, hot shot."
A few yards down the beach, Brooke found the 'perfect spot' and plunked herself down on the ground. Nathan reached her a moment later and stood towering above her. "This is the best view money can buy? There's not even a blanket to sit on. Man, Davis, you really are poor now."
She grinned up at him. "Sit down and shut up."
Returning the smile, he settled down beside her and they watched in companionable silence as the sun lowered in the sky. The bright yellow faded to a deeper, richer gold, then to a faint rosy hue, and then it was gone, replaced by the shimmering periwinkle of twilight.
"Beautiful," Brooke sighed, her eyes still on the sky.
"Yeah." He glanced at her, took in the delicacy of her small shoulders and the way her brown hair moved in the breeze. "It is."
"Race you to the water," she proposed suddenly, and was off like a shot before he could even process the challenge.
Nathan smirked and took off, barreling into the ocean after her, gasping as the freezing waves soaked through his clothes and pierced his skin. "Cheater!" he accused, advancing on her.
"I play to win," she cackled, splashing him a little. Catching the look in his eye, she started to back up, shaking her finger at him. "No. Don't you dare, Nathan Scott, I will hurt you."
"I'm shaking," he snorted, amused at the thought of the hundred pound cheerleader doing any sort of damage to him. "Really. Terrified."
"I'm serious, mister," she warned, "Don't even think about –"
Her voice cut off as he lunged and roped an arm around her waist, dragging her underwater with him. "Oh!" she screamed when she'd made it back to the surface, shoving her sopping wet hair out of her eyes. "You are so dead, you don't even know it," she told him, but the giggle that escaped cancelled out most of the threat.
They had to hurry back to the apartment once leaving the water, as they hadn't thought to bring towels and the night air carried a chill. Once he'd dried off, Nathan sank down onto the couch and waited for Brooke to be ready, as it was her turn to pick what they watched.
She emerged from the bedroom in one of his t-shirts, so large that it skimmed her knees, her hair combed but still dripping, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. "What?" she defended her choice of outfits, "I'm not getting my pajamas soaked. You're the one who had to go and get my hair wet."
He just smiled and patted the cushion next to him. "Looks good on you."
"Everything does," she replied, and took the remote from his hands. A few minutes into Amazing Race, he felt her eyes on him and turned to her questioningly. "It was a good day, right?"
"The best," he assured her, and put an arm around her shoulders, pleased to discover that they fit perfectly.
