Hello again, finally I know. THis chapter goes out to Dani over on the CW/OTH boards, who helped me with a certain part in here that I was struggling with. Thanks Dani! Also, everyone needs to head over there and read a fanfic of hers, entitiled "A Fanfic - Brucas: Season 6..." by othfanargentina, if you need some more BL hope and love!!

Anyways, here is the chapter, read, enjoy, ignore the huge gaps between my UDs, and most of all review! Please! :)

Standing on the cheap tiling of the airport, he looked ridiculously out of place. A small bag was slung over one broad shoulder, and a bright smile was etched over his hard features. It looked strange on him, like the muscles weren't used to working like this.

He wore the same clothes Peyton had seen him in last; it was as if he had been frozen in time when he left her that night, and he was only coming back into existence now. He looked exactly the same as she remembered him. The long, white, perfectly creased dress pants. The dark blue jacket with red trim: It was cropped close to his torso, the slim fit betraying the muscled chest and ox-like strength that she knew was there. Polished buttons matched the buttons and badges and medals that adorned his shoulder area, and the white marines cap was tucked carefully under one arm. Save for the airport backdrop and the smile on his face, it was like a poster for recruiting.

"Derek," she breathed, and he chuckled.

Peyton couldn't even find the strength to get out of her chair. Derek Somers, the real Derek, her Derek, her… brother—it still felt strange to say the word— was here, standing five feet away, watching, waiting for her. The silence stretched between them despite the noisy atmosphere.

"I'm surprised you even remember my name: I don't get a single letter while I'm away, and now you sit there dumbstruck?" he laughed, and it was like a dam breaking. Her whole body relaxed, and Peyton was able to laugh uneasily as she stood and accepted his hug.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to say past the surprise and uncertainty.

"I had to make sure my little sister was alright," Derek said, pulling back to look at her. Peyton was still utterly bewildered. He laughed again.

"Well, it certainly seems like you can forgive him," muttered the old woman from behind them. But Peyton ignored her, and the lady shuffled off.

Peyton looked towards the tarmac once more, suddenly understanding Derek's sudden appearance. A line of men and women in official dress that matched Derek's marched down the stairs from the jet, and she watched the crowd applaud and cheer.

Behind her, Derek sat down. "I—"

They were interrupted by a sudden clattering of heels across the floor, and Peyton turned just in time to see Brooke rushing up to her, and excited look on her face.

"P. Sawyer! You'll never guess who I just saw!" She exclaimed excitedly as she caught her breath and looked around. "It was your brother Der—" her eyes alighted on Derek, and Brooke's face fell "—Derek …Oh. Ok then."

She looked disappointed that she hadn't been the one to tell Peyton.

"Brooke, right?" Derek said, nodding at her, "Nice to finally meet you. We obviously kinda know each other, even though we never met officially. Back then you and Peyton were at each other's throats."

Brooke's eyes flew uneasily to Peyton, whose jaw was set angrily. Her stony green eyes were fixed forward, not hearing Brooke or her half-brother. All three were silent.

"Flight 616 arriving now. Please standby for disembarking."

The spell broke. Peyton's angry face melted away instantly and she looked at Brooke, showing fear for just a moment. Brooke knew she wore the same expression on her own face. That's him, their eyes agreed.

Derek sat down behind them, ignorant to the tension in the air. He settled into his chair, saying something about resting for a moment. The girls, who were still standing, ignored him.

Brooke and Peyton drew closer, emotionally using one another as a crutch. They stood shoulder to shoulder, perfectly still, facing the spot that they would see Ian first, grasping hands without even thinking. They were in high school again, fighting against him, together, like that day in the jail. Simultaneously, they took a steeling breath; all grudges forgotten in this pivotal moment. Derek, who had picked up on something, was about to ask when he came around the corner.

Jail had toughened Ian Banks: he was no longer the light, college looking guy that they had known years ago. His face was older, tougher, scarred like a bar fighter's. His eyes were sunken and sullen, and his blonde hair hung limply over his brow. Ian wore an expression of upmost contempt for the guards who flanked him on either side.

He walked slowly towards the two, and the guards followed at a distance. Peyton and Brooke waited on baited breath as he grew closer. Then suddenly, before the two girls even knew that he was close, they found themselves face to face with the subjects of nightmares for weeks after he was gone. Ian gave them a dark, yet unreadable look. But even with all of the changes, the scars and the aging, Ian still strode up to them with an air of confidence and an icy demeanor.

"Well, look who it is: the bitches who put me in jail the first time and even indirectly caused my eventual death." He spoke casually, but his fixed stare betrayed a much deeper hidden resentment. He lightly motioned the guards, who stood several yards behind him, to look at the two girls. "They actually showed up! Huh."

Peyton bristled. "We only came because it was your dying request. Because this is closure, forever."

"And we're glad your dying," Brooke supported, "Because then there'll be one less creep in the world."

His teeth ground together, and a vein pulsed in Ian's temple. His eye's narrowed, and a small smile played on his lips. "That's pretty strong. Pretty…passionate, if you ask me. Is that it, Peyton, passion?"

Peyton just stared, not able to think, to react.

"Did you miss me, Peyton? Because I missed you."

It was the one thing that hadn't changed over the years; Ian's voice. It changed now from the loud, uncaring tone, became the low, velvety smooth sound from years ago. His words flowed eloquently and quietly, each dripping with poisoned honey.

Peyton reeled. Why the hell had she decided to come here. Such a stupid idea, a horrible idea. Even with Brooke by her side, with her long lost brother sitting just behind her, even in an airport full of people, Peyton had never felt more alone and vulnerable. He was starting to bring back memories, the voice more than anything. She had answered the door, smoothing out her long white dress and golden curls, expecting to see Lucas on the porch. Instead, he turned around, the expression on his face one of upmost triumph and cunning. And that started it all.

Peyton took and unconscious step backwards, and even felt Brooke jump.

Behind them, Derek had finally gripped what was happening. More importantly, just as he stood up, he saw Peyton step back away from the blonde guy (Derek didn't know his name, but he remembered him). Stepping forward, he stood protectively behind Peyton.

She felt his presence behind her the same time Ian looked over Peyton's shoulder. "Hey, you're the guy who pushed me out of that window last time, right?" His cordial mannerism had returned, save for the shadow over his face. "What's up?"

"I dare you to try and touch her," murmured Derek, unfazed. "Either of them. You won't even make it to the hospital."

Ian cocked his head slightly, returning his gaze to Peyton. "He sounds jealous, that's what it is. Jealous of what we have…" Ian smiled.

It wasn't the same as last time, Ian's sadistic manner. It was like an echo from four years ago, a shadow of what had happened. Ian was a ghost of his old self, and it was as if he was just acting, replaying recordings. Like he knew how he should act, rather than be natural. Brooke couldn't put her finger on the difference, but it wasn't exactly forefront in her mind at the moment.

Just then, Derek stepped between Ian and Brooke and Peyton, and the fire ignited in Ian's eyes. For a second, Peyton wasn't sure if Brooke had seen it, but then she felt the brunette tense next to her.

"Peyton, are you…trying to replace me?" he whispered lividly, but Brooke stepped forward, and Ian at last broke his gaze with Peyton. His eyes slid edgily to the brunette. "Looking for another kiss, you slut? You didn't taste nearly as sweet as Peyton, but I suppose I could use you. Just like all other men in your life have."

Under her burgundy top, Brooke's stomach clenched, and a composing exhale came out her nose, but she brushed the insult away with the merest flicker of irritation. "You said… you were over Peyton." Each word came out carefully articulated, her speech controlled.

He shrugged, then refocused in on Peyton. "That doesn't mean that my dear Peyton doesn't deserve a punishment for what she did to me."

"I didn't do anything."

This, above all else, seemed to incense Ian the most. He took on an incredulous, outraged look. "You didn't— you didn't do anything? It's your fault: you led me on! You stabbed me then continued to beat me almost to death, you put me in jail! It's your fault!" he screamed, "Both of you. It's your fault, you little whores. It's your fault that I'm like this today, that the last four years of my life were spent in prison."

"It's not—"

"How does it feel, Peyton, does the guilt hurt? Or do you not feel anything, numb to a man being led to his last place of existence, to die then, cold and alone?" He leaned in, dropping his voice. "That's the worst part, the strongest guilt you should feel of all: It's your fault I'm dying."

Derek stepped finally in, intervening. "Hey, can you get him out of here?" he yelled to the guards. Both he and Brooke watched her blank porcelain face concernedly, but Peyton kept her eyes on Ian's angry, accusing face as he continued to shout.

It was true, what he said, she suddenly thought with a jolt. It was her fault, and… and I don't feel anything. A man was dying, and even though it was him, she should've felt at least some emotion, some pity or mercy or even hatred towards Ian. But Peyton's mind and body were blank, even to guilt.

And she hated herself for it. Was this really how far she had slipped, to the point where someone's death didn't affect her in the slightest?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ian was led across the terminal to the exit, and the three left after the encounter made themselves deaf to his cries from across the building as he was taken outside.

But Peyton knew what he was saying, his words echoed in her head.

Your fault, all your fault.

Peyton watched the metal conveyor belt of the baggage claim go around and around, strangely taking solace in the sameness of it all. Airports were full of people wearing every emotion possible: sadness, joy, apprehension, boredom, excitement. Why try to understand and absorb such dynamic feelings, especially since she felt blank inside, when she could watch something so much simpler and constant and easy? It was relaxing, and she concentrated hard on it while letting her mind wander.

Seeming to take her deliberations for openness, Brooke came over. "You ready to talk about it, Peyt?"

The look on Peyton's face was cool and unruffled as she finally looked at Brooke and shrugged. "Nothing to talk about. He's gone, for good, we're safe, and I'm—I'll live."

"That's good," Brooke said, becoming just as calm as her friend was when she saw that Peyton was alright. After a minute or so of silence, she smiled and turned to the blonde. "Well, you've got big brother Derek here for you now, how's that gonna be?" She smirked, exactly the way they used to tease each other in high school.

It was most likely this that made Peyton realize that Brooke still had Lucas, and they were still against one another, regardless of that lapse in judgment when they had stood together against Derek. As soon as she remembered the past few conversations with Brooke, she closed up once again, and the resentment flowed through her. She instantly became the default P. Sawyer: detached, bored, pissed off and cynical.

"Why are you still here Brooke? You don't need to be, so why don't you go bed down with Luke some more? 'Cause really, he'll need all he can get before he gets into a real relationship again," she said sardonically.

Brooke stood up straight, incredulous. "I was just trying to be here for you—"

"Well," said Peyton, "It's not really helping. Quite frankly, you're just pissing me off. You saw Ian, he's gone, so why don't you just leave me alone now. Like I said before, I'll live." She was past the anger and the snarky remarks and the petty jealousy; there was just so much going on in her tumultuous life right now, and Brooke was the embodiment of everything Peyton didn't want to deal with. Therefore, she was the target.

The two girls were staring daggers at each other when Derek finally turned around with his bag over one shoulder. "Are you guys ready?" he asked uneasily, and it seemed to break the tension.

"Yeah, I'm going to head out now," agreed Brooke, "It's been great, reliving old nightmares," she looked Peyton up and down, "and seeing Ian, but I have to get back to Lucas. He needs as much as he can get, right?"

Peyton remained silent, watching her friend-in-limbo's retreating back. Once she was finally gone, Peyton looked uneasily towards Derek, as if waiting for his appraisal of the entire situation

Derek just looked perceptively at the blonde. "C'mon, let's get out of here," he said simply.

"That's it Lily, away from pressure to the weak side before you shoot," encouraged Lucas with a little clap. It was nearing one o'clock, and he stood below the basket of their neighbor's house, waiting for Lily to shoot. But instead, the little girl dropped the ball and indignantly planted her hand on one hip.

"Luuuke," she complained, "I don't know what any of that means!"

At once, the coach/player side of Lucas fell away, and the older brother side that took its place made him laugh and smile an apology at her. "I'm sorry. You know how I get carried away." He looked wistfully up at the basket, but the smile never left his face. Fond memories, but without bitterness. "But," he continued seriously, "you're gonna have to learn, because I will not have a sister who doesn't play." The look on his face was purely teasing, and she knew it. Lily burst into fits of giggles as he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and ran back to the house.

Karen and Andy, finally back from breakfast, were sitting in the kitchen when Lily and Lucas came in. Laughing and talking, they hardly noticed Lucas's quiet brooding for the first few minutes as he stood at the counter behind them. He watched them carefully and eventually smiled.

"So, Mom, Andy, how was breakfast… and apparently lunch?"

Karen recognized his teasing tone. "It was good, good…" but before she could say any more, Lily's call for Lucas came from the living room.

"Luke, come here! Look at this!" Lily, infatuated with her older brother, was always trying to get him to watch her latest shows, or to coerce him into buying things from the TV ads. With a good-natured sigh, Lucas gave his mom a look and went to see Lily.

As soon as he was gone, Andy turned to Karen with a strange look on his face. "Is…Lucas alright?"

Karen took a sip of her coffee and nodded. "I think so. Why?"

"Because he keeps giving me weird looks," said Andy, "Giving us weird looks. Like appraising you and me, watching." He gave a sort of laugh, and Karen bit her lip in a smile. She looked over curiously, to meet Lucas's thoughtful blue eyes. He was indeed watching them, but as soon as he saw his mother looking, Lucas turned away quickly as though he had been caught. Karen turned back to Andy and gave him a strange look.

"I don't know," he simply said, reading her mind. They smiled.

A quiet tap on Karen's shoulder interrupted the next thought, and Lucas sidled into the chair across from the pair. The look on his face was different from before. He looked grim.

"Dan came over," said Lucas, jumping right to the point, "He wanted to see Lily."

Just as Lucas had when he walked in the door, the smile vanished from both Karen and Andy's faces. "What happened? How did he get to Lily?"

"She was in the yard, and he came to my door with her." Lucas was very blank, monotone, concealing his angst while he informed them.

Karen covered her mouth in horror. "Oh, Lucas, please tell me you didn't hit him." She seemed to have read his face.

"No, no," he assured her quietly. Andy watched both of them like a tennis match, not offering comment. "Brooke pulled me off before I could do anything."

"Well that's good, at least. But what are we going to do, we—"

Andy cleared his throat slightly. Looking at Karen seriously, he said, "Have you thought about just doing nothing?"

His question was met by silence, so Andy pressed on.

"Look, we know that Dan is conniving: he's been like that in the past and he most likely will in the future. But for now, he hasn't done anything, and it doesn't seem like he will. Do you really think that he would do something like Carrie did with Jamie, especially since he's just out of jail? I don't trust him and never will, but I doubt that Dan would to something like that. And panicking now wouldn't help anything, so I think that the best course of action would be… do nothing. Wait for him, keep Lily close, but there isn't much else we can do."

Dishes clinked quietly as Lucas and Andy put them away, the only sound in the empty kitchen. Neither of them spoke.

Karen and Lucas had taken Andy's idea of doing nothing with a taciturn acceptance; they were reluctant, but they also saw the wisdom and were unable to come up with anything else. Walking into the living room to say hello a few minutes after Andy's announcement, it was one of the few times the Karen's age really showed.

"So where's Brooke?" Andy asked Lucas, filling the silence. Lucas had just decided that there was nothing going on between his mom and Andy.

Lucas smiled slightly. "I don't know, actually." He put a glass away thoughtfully, wondering where his pretty girl had run off to today.

"Have you taken her out yet?"

"What?" Lucas asked, somewhat confused. The question seemed like a father talking to his fourteen-year-old son, or an older brother teasing a younger sibling. It certainly didn't match the current situation.

"On a date, like to dinner?" Andy asked again.

"Uh…not really," said Lucas, "She comes home and sleeps in my bed, most of her stuff is here; we basically live together, so it sort of defeats the purpose. Plus, life has kinda been getting in the way." They finished the dishes and leaned against the counter to talk.

"Have you ever talked about something like that?" asked Andy, playing the fatherly role quite well. Lucas's stomach jerked, imaging Keith in that role.

"I—" But before he defended himself he stopped and thought. They really had never talked about it. Things just kept getting in the way, or they would be too busy. In senior year they were just happy enough being together to the point where the never needed to go out on a date. "No, we haven't," Lucas decided slowly, "But she would like that. I've never even taken her out to dinner, really."

Andy smiled a half-smile, looking down the hall to Karen and Lily before glancing back at Lucas and patting him on the shoulder. "Then you might want to fix that."

FOUR DAYS LATER

"Hey you've reached Lucas Scott, I'm not here right now, leave a message."

"Hi Luke, it's me. Listen, I... there's a bunch of stuff going on at the store right now, so I gotta stay here and I'm spending the night a Rachel's because we have to work on some designs. Just thought I'd check in, if you get this message, call me, ok?" Brooke hung up her phone and tossed it onto the counter, behind which stood Millicent and Rachel. Milli stood at the ready, but Rachel looked coolly unconcerned at Brooke's angst and the tension in the atmosphere. She examined one fingernail.

"So, Brookie, can you just tell me what's going on again?" Rachel leaned onto the counter, waiting for Brooke's plans. Brooke looked extremely flustered as she paced back and forth in front of them.

"Ok, I was on my way over here and I got a call from the board saying that they are concerned about the lack of production from the company, namely me, as well as the Tree Hill store," Brooke said quickly, gesturing around at the desperately empty upscale store for a perfect example. "So, the requested my new line two weeks early."

Rachel shrugged, letting out an uneasy laugh. "So, what's the problem?"

"I…haven't started anything yet. No designs," disclosed Brooke as she nervously braced herself for their reactions. Both Rachel and Millicent slapped hands to their foreheads and groaned hopelessly. "I didn't realize they were going to do this!" Brooke cried, defending herself. "Usually I can whip something up in a few days but I didn't know we were going to have a time crunch!"

Millicent spoke up. "But why do they want it now, all of the sudden?" Both girls watched as Brooke paced and thought up their battle plan. She whirled angrily.

"It was Victoria, I'll bet you. Not only does she still have shares in the company, but she holds influence and cocktail parties with the board. It would be a perfect time for that manipulative bitch to plant the idea of my flaws in their minds. But anyways," Brooke continued as she planted her hands, business-like, back on the counter. "The point is that we need to come up with a sample line in two weeks. Can we do it?"

"Well," Rachel announced, leaning back, "I don't have anything else to do in this empty town. I'm in." This seemed to ease Brooke's worry slightly.

"You sound like Victoria. Milli?"

Millicent seemed more involved than Rachel. "Of course, I'll go get fabrics right now. Just the usual?"

"Yeah, yeah," Brooke said as she heaved a sigh of relief. She wouldn't be alone. Millicent grabbed some money from the register and hurried out the door.

Rachel seemed to have gotten more serious about the situation. "So what's the game plan, captain?" Brooke tied her hair back in a simple bun.

"We're going to design as much as we can, a surplus, then pick from the best. We don't really have an overall theme, but we should style them mostly the same, but what if…" Brooke started to ramble as she paced. "But what if none of them turn out right, or we can't make enough, or we can't think up enough—"

Rachel came around the counter, grabbed Broke by the shoulders, and clapped loudly in her face. She did it quickly enough to stop Brooke dead in her ramblings, frozen. "Hey! Enough! You're going to give me a complex." Rachel took a deep breath, than instructed Brooke in the same. "Just breathe, ok? Work with me here, we'll live. We are just going to sit down, draw out some dresses, listen to your muse or whatever the hell you do to come up with this, ok?" She spoke very slowly as she grabbed the pencils and pad. "It's going to be ok."

"Ugh! This is NOT ok! Rachel, I can't do this!" Brooke yelled a few hours later, throwing her pencil down onto the third unsuccessful design. She slammed her elbows on the table and ran her hands through her hair. Rachel looked on, casually sipping a smoothie. Millicent had gone on another fabric run.

"Yeah, it seems like your muse has abandoned you," observed Rachel sagely. Brooke gave her a death glare from under one arm. "But really, that's all it is, a lack of inspiration. I'm sure when Millicent gets back with the latest fabrics then you can see them and just start drawing while I get another drink. Sound like a plan?"

Brooke was about to impale her friend with the dull pencil when her cell phone rang out noisily from the counter. Crossing the room in three strides to check the ID, she told Rachel, "He just saved your skinny ass, you know that?" Rachel stuck her tongue out while Brooke answered.

"Hi," She moaned tiredly. Obviously the stress was getting to her.

"Hey," came Lucas's voice over the line. She smiled, taking solace in the familiar sound that always seemed to make her problems go away. Brooke remembered a few days ago when she had returned from the airport, tired and irritated, back to Lucas's house.

FB:

"Hey-hey, Cheery's back," Lucas teased, standing up from the couch when Brooke moped in the door. He had seen the irritable look in her eyes the second she walked in, and he tried to lighten the mood for her. "How was the airport?"

She obviously wasn't in the mood for it, judging by the roll of her eyes and her grunt that told him to sit back down with her. Brooke fell onto the couch, resting herself on his shoulder as Lucas flipped between basketball games on the TV.

"Wow, your other boyfriends were that bad, were they?" Lucas mused quietly, shaking his head disapprovingly as if he was saying it to himself. This time, Brooke smiled, but still hit him in the chest.

"Truth be told," she said, "The airport sucked. But I don't wanna talk about it, ok?" He didn't push the matter, because it at least seemed like she had cheered up slightly.

Talking to him now, it seemed like once again she wasn't stressed and Brooke actually sat back in her chair, relaxing. Rachel came over, sitting across from Brooke to listen.

"I got your message," Lucas continued, "And I was just wondering if I was going to see you tonight. No other dates?"

Brooke, playing along, shuffled some papers. "Nope, it doesn't look like I've got anyone lined up for tonight." Rachel rolled her eyes, but Brooke laughed.

"Well, what about that handsome guy across the street?" Lucas asked curiously. "Outside your store."

Brooke took the phone away from her ear, pressing it against her shoulder while she cocked her head, confused, at Rachel. What? The brunette mouthed. Rachel shrugged, and they both got up in unison and went to the front of the store to look out the window.

Lucas leaned against a lightpole across the street, the phone pressed against his ear, waving with a look of upmost smugness plastered across his face. He seemed to delight in conning them. Rachel shook her head. "Damn, that boy is cheesy," she murmured, moving her lips very slightly and in a disapproving way.

"Yes, but he's mine," Brooke shot back quietly before putting the phone up to her ear to continue to talk to him. "There was that one, but he is way too haughty for my taste."

"Yeah, I've never liked those ones. Stay well away from him, seems like the kinda guy you'd fall for."

Lucas clicked off the phone before she could answer, and even from inside both Brooke and Rachel could see his swagger, although it was as if he was putting it on for them. His deep blue collared shirt hung loosely from his torso over his dark jeans, and his scruffy blonde hair stood out at all angles. He looked alluringly unkempt. The only difference between him and a Manhattan male model was the broad grin on his face as he loped casually across the street and walked into the store.

"And we couldn't let that happen, could we?" asked Lucas, teasingly continuing his conversation from before with Brooke as he embraced her and pecked her quickly on the lips. She echoed Rachel in the eye-rolling this time, scoffing and returning to the counter to face him.

Rachel followed close behind, and when Brooke turned, the red head whispered into her ear. "Well, there's some inspiration if I ever saw some. Just try to keep the moaning down, ok?" With a mocking raise of her eyebrow, she slapped Brooke on the ass and disappeared into the back. Brooke turned back to Lucas with an incredulous look, laughing at Rachel but in no way surprised.

Watching her as she started to bustle around again, Lucas had to laugh as well; Brooke stood there in a pair of vibrant red dolphin shorts and a black top, looking like she should just be getting ready for a party with friends, not frantically trying to design something to remain in control of her multi-million dollar company. Brooke was always rushing along; she was even now, rearranging papers and old portfolios and bolts of fabric. A brunette lock had managed to escape her bun, and Brooke looked just so flustered that Lucas felt it necessary to go over to her.

"Now," he said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his head on her shoulder, "how're you doing? How are the drawings going?" He held her tight to make sure she couldn't go anywhere, and after a second she stopped struggling. As expected, her shoulders slumped.

"Ugh, not good. Its only been a few hours, but there's this stuff with my vampire mom and the board and my complete inability to create something that looks half decent—" Brooke took a deep breath, and Lucas had to stifle a smile.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No," said Brooke dejectedly. She gave him a half-smile.

But Lucas was determined to make it better. Picking her up and setting Brooke's slender body down on the counter so that she was slightly about his eye-level, Lucas leaned in closer to her face. "Well, how about I take you out to dinner tomorrow night? Since I'm not going to see you tonight or tomorrow, it'll be fun. Sound good?"

In just a few short weeks, Lucas had once again regained his skill in reading Brooke Davis most of the time. Granted, there were still so many things about her that intrigued him, but now he could imagine her reactions to things, know what she was thinking seventy-five percent of the time. Using this, he could imagine her immediate surprised reaction to their date, followed immediately by a cheery smile, which in turn would be instantly covered by a poor impression of aloofness. He was not surprised when she exhibited each of these feelings with the exact timing he had imagined.

"Sure, it sounds good, I guess," said Brooke, shrugging. But even under this proud exterior, the secret grin and the overall energy that pervaded Brooke now did not escape him. He could only smile as she promised to meet him at eight the next night, setting their date.

"What? What are you smiling at?" Brooke was indignant, planting a hand on her hip, squirming on the counter in front of Lucas. He just shook his head.

"Nothing, nothing." He gave her a quick peck on the lips before gathering himself to leave. "I gotta go pick up my HCM medicine now, I'm already late as is. Are you going to survive the next twenty four hours without me?" Lucas gestured around the shop, lit from the late afternoon sun.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Now get your cocky, handsome ass out of here, I have to focus."

An arm caught him before he was twenty yards from the store. Expecting Brooke, Lucas turned around and was surprised to see Rachel standing in front of him, looking dangerous.

"I have to talk to you for a second," said the redhead, and dove into her speech before Lucas could say anything. "Ok, I don't really trust you. You're cool and all, but I still don't trust you. For some reason, Brooke does, but that is outside my control. The point is—"

"What are you getting at Rachel?" Lucas asked, and it was more a polite request than question. He knew the general idea of where the conversation was going.

"My point being that you'd better not screw this up. Most of us believe you, but we're still shrewd about it. Just remember, if you screw this one up, you'll have a hunting party out for you: Me, Haley, Millicent, most likely Peyton, because even if she's mad at Brooke she'd still be there for her, hell if we can get Brooke drunk enough she'll come too. Just watch out, ok?"

Lucas had been accepting her accusations calmly, knowing that there was reason behind them. Still though, he felt the need to impress on her the importance of Brooke to him.

"Listen, Rachel, I know what I've done. But the reason it ended between me and Brooke was a series of miscommunications, misunderstandings, mistakes—"

"And a Miss Peyton Sawyer, right?" Rachel's arms were folded across her chest, and the look on her face was icy even the heat outside.

Lucas bit the inside of his cheek, but didn't counter her blow. He just said, "I was happy with Peyton and Lindsey and all the other girls I dated. But being with Brooke makes me feel different, alive, vibrant. I'm not going to lose that over a stupid mistake. After she came back to Tree Hill with Peyton, whenever I saw her with some guy, Owen or anyone else, I would get so jealous. Of course I didn't directly, consciously realize it at the time, but I burned at the thought of someone else touching my pretty girl. I would never let that happen again, if for my own selfish reasons at the very least. If you're satisfied with that, then we're good. But if you're not, I'm not going to sit out here and tell you every single reason I need Brooke in my life, because I don't even know them all. So will you trust me with her?"

There you go! Again, check out the fanfic mentioned above, and leave me some reviews!