Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and its characters belong to Mark Schwahn, The CW, etc. I'm simply whoring them for my own amusement.

Spoilers/Warnings: I'm screwing with pretty much everything in the OTH verse. For now if you've seen S1, you're golden.

Summary: AU. A one night stand blossoms into much more than Lucas and Peyton originally bargained for.

AN: I know I haven't updated since December. Honestly I didn't think it'd been that long! I never intended to let updates lapse that long, but here I am. This update isn't as long as I would have liked it to be, but I wanted to give you guys something since I left you hanging for so long. This chapter heavily focuses on the LP family dynamic, but mostly LP and their awkwardness. Feedback is much appreciated!

—

06. It Hurts To Want It So Bad

Lucas had grown accustomed to sleeping on the sofa. It didn't bother him. The sofa in his house was soft and comfortable unlike the block of plywood he'd endured every night while at Nathan and Haley's. Nothing beat his own house, his own furniture.

However, after two hours of sleeping in his bed the night he'd grown restless—for more reasons than he cared to count. He'd sought out his office first, gearing up his computer, settling down to work. That had been useless—he'd spent a half hour sitting in his chair, staring at the pictures that loitered his desk. His eyes had shifted from one picture to the next, taking in every nuance, every smile, every eye crinkle until his eyes had crossed and sleep had begun to overtake him.

Finally, he'd taken himself off to the living room, stretched out on the sofa with syndicated episodes of one of the CSIs… and promptly fallen asleep. Now as he woke, he was aware of the house bustling. The kids were awake and no doubt taking their breakfast in the kitchen. He wondered if Peyton had warned them of his presence, his return. As he scrubbed his face with his hands to orient himself, he realized that if his children knew that he was home, they would have attacked him and awakened him hours ago. He crossed the foyer to join them, amused as they all looked over at him, completely perplexed at the sight of him. Peyton hadn't said a word.

Becca, gawking at him, looked at her mother and asked, "Mom, is Dad here to pick us up?" Her spoon hung midair en route to her mouth.

Peyton nearly choked on her pancakes, so taken off-guard she was by the question. She hadn't thought about how she was going to explain Luke's homecoming to their children. Now presented with that predicament, she was at a loss on what to say, how to explain. Looking to Lucas, she mouthed, "Help me."

Scratching his head, Lucas made his way to the coffee pot, informing his daughter, "No, honey, I'm not here to pick you up. Your mom and I are making up." He looked at Peyton to see her reaction, but she just lifted her coffee cup, hiding a smile behind the rim, no doubt relieved that she didn't have to offer her own explanation.

"Really?" This came from Becca and Gilly, both spinning in their chairs to bestow him with excited grins.

"It wouldn't be fun of me to joke about that," he told them, reaching into the cupboard for a coffee mug only to find that where the coffee mugs were supposed to be, now held a vast array of Dillon's sippy cups. He turned to Peyton, eyebrow raised, question posed.

"Other side of the sink," Peyton supplied helpfully.

Becca's amusement faded quickly, Peyton noticed. Inquiring after Becca's sullen expression, Peyton reached for her hand, not knowing what to say when Becca told her, "Ashley's parents got back together after her mom's special friendship with Principal Cook. Now they're living apart and her dad's living with her grandma."

"Becca, let's not be so pessimistic," Lucas chastised his daughter. That pessimism she got from Peyton, he didn't doubt it for a second.

"What's that mean?" she asked, turning back toward Lucas.

"It means you're being a Sad Sally and thinking the worst."

"We don't want you to leave again, Daddy," Gilly told Lucas as he settled into a chair, resuming his seat at the head at the table. Dillon sat in his highchair to the right of Lucas and began pounding on his tray at once, making them all aware of his excitement at seeing his father.

Lucas ruffled his son's hair. "It's okay, buddy. Daddy's not going anywhere." He leaned over to nuzzle and playfully bite Dillon's neck, filling the room with the baby's delighted giggles.

"Okay, girls. The bus is almost here. Get your book sacks and tell your Dad bye," Peyton announced. Lucas expected moans and groans, but the girls dutifully got to their feet, albeit a little more reluctantly than he was accustomed.

Lucas pushed back his chair to afford himself room to envelop both his daughters in his arms. They smothered him with hugs, unrelenting in their affection until he promised that he'd be there when they returned from school that afternoon. "I'll be here. I may even have you girls a special treat."

"Books," the two said in unison. Gilly was much more delighted than Becca at the prospect of a new book to thumb through and subsequently add to her ever-expanding bookshelf.

After the two had vacated the room, leaving him alone with Peyton and Dillon, Lucas dropped back into his chair. "That went well."

"For them their prayers have been answered, Lucas. They've prayed for this every night since you left."

"I didn't know..."

Peyton smiled sympathetically. "I never told you. I never told you... a lot of things."

Lucas couldn't refute that fact. There were probably many things that were still unsaid between them, but those things weren't important at the moment. Pulling Dillon from his high chair, Lucas settled the toddler on his lap. He watched Peyton drop her gaze to stare into her coffee cup. Then she said, "You slept on the sofa last night."

Initially, Lucas didn't know what to say. He bounced Dillon on his knee in an attempt to ignore the accusation in her words. He took his time, sipping his coffee, setting Dillon back into his highchair when he made a grab for his bowl of grits. "I couldn't sleep."

Peyton licked her lips, hating that she felt rejected. When she woke that morning, alone in the bed, she thought that Lucas had left her, had made the decision himself this time and snuck off while she was sleeping. Then, she found him sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, sleeping soundly. She'd battled with the urge to wake him up with a cold glass of water on his face, but instead simply took herself off to the kitchen and started breakfast for their kids.

"I didn't banish you to the sofa."

"I know that."

Peyton was quickly becoming aggravated. She sighed. "I'm making an effort, Lucas. I asked you to come home. I'm trying."

"And you don't think I am? Christ, Peyton." Lucas shot to his feet, running a hand through his hair. She wasn't ready to know that he couldn't sleep in the same bed with her because he ached to touch her—physically ached. He wanted to hold her, forget all the shit that had happened for a little while. Peyton had always been his sun, his air, his everything. She still was, that much hadn't changed. His whole life he'd only ever wanted Peyton. He didn't want to tell her how wrecked his world was the months they'd been separated. She didn't need to know that; not now, possibly ever.

"Maybe it was presumptuous of me to think that we could make this work."

Lucas heard her chair scrape against the floor. He spun to face her. "Oh, no you don't. You don't get to do that, just throw in the towel because things aren't going the way you want them to."

"Do you know what message it sent that you slept on the sofa, Lucas? That you couldn't bear to share our bed… that you don't want to be close to me."

"Dammit, Peyton, if I wanted to be any closer to you, we'd be Siamese twins!" he yelled, unable to help himself. He watched her open her mouth, fighting for words. "I want you and that's why I couldn't sleep in bed last night. It was just… hard." Beneath his breath, he muttered, "In more ways than one."

"Oh," Peyton gasped, completely bereaved of speech.

Lucas scowled, irritated. "That's it? That's all you're going to say? I tell you I want you and all you have to say in response is 'Oh'?"

"Well... What I meant to say was... Thank you."

"Thank you?" Lucas repeated. He'd expected yelling, recoiling. Definitely not gratitude. He didn't know how to react, what to say. Manners encumbered him to reply with, "You're welcome." However, he felt like a moron for saying it.

Lifting Dillon from his chair, Peyton declared, "I have to get him ready for daycare." Before she could quit the room entirely, she turned back to tell her husband, "From now on you sleep in our bed, Lucas. I won't have it any other way." She didn't see the smug grin that washed across his face as she carried Dillon out of the room.

—

Peyton had just wrapped up a call with a potential artist when Brooke bounced into the room, vibrating with excitement. "So, did I hear it right? Lucas is home?"

"I should've known you'd be here to plague me about that," Peyton said, sliding out of her chair. She joined Brooke on the sofa on the other side of the room, telling her best friend, "Yes. He's home."

"Wow. That's… wow. I'm so happy for you. For both of you." Brooke flashed Peyton an odd, concerned look. "Are you okay, honey? You seemed distressed."

Peyton hated complaining about her marriage. In recent months, she had done nothing but that and hated to burden Brooke further. She knew though if she expressed her agony, Brooke would simply tell her that she was being silly—that's what best friends were for. Sighing, she began, "He slept on the sofa last night."

"Oh. Well. Maybe he was just accustomed to it. He has spent quite a few nights bunking on Nathan and Haley's, after all." When Peyton started to reply, Brooke hastily added, "You can't expect everything to be hunky dory overnight, Peyton; not after all the time the two of you have spent apart, the loss you've suffered."

"You know he told me I was different, that I had changed. Apparently I'm not the same Peyton."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I would be over the moon if Owen told me that I had changed. Maybe then, he'd stop calling me spoiled and vapid."

Peyton shook her head, interrupting Brooke before she could make it about her. "If I'm different, Brooke, am I still the same woman that he loves?"

"Peyton, we all change, at some time or another. Lucas will love you no matter what. I know that, you should know that, too. That man worships the ground you walk on."

Did he? She couldn't tell of recently. How had they allowed everything to get so muddled after Christopher's death? How had two people who could finish each other's sentences, who never tired of one another's company, suddenly become strangers? Could they get their marriage back or were they just fighting a losing battle?

"You can't expect everything to fall back into place with a snap of your fingers now that Lucas has come home. It'll take time for you to get readjusted to him and him to you. You're finding problems where there are none, Peyton."

She knew that Brooke was right, but could she be patient enough while she and Lucas adjusted to each other again?

—

When Peyton got home from work, the house was quiet. Eerily so. At four in the afternoon, the children should've been yelling and screaming at each other. The TV should have been blaring. Instead there was silence. Moving towards the back of the house, she peeked into Lucas's office, surprised to find it empty. She continued on back to the French doors that led out into the backyard. Pushing open the blinds, she found her husband and children in the backyard.

Lucas was sitting on one of the swings with Dillon on his lap. Becca sat beside him in the other swing with Gilly to her left on the slide. They were having a conversation, it seemed. Peyton had no doubt that they were plaguing him about his time spent away and what they were to expect now that he was home. God knew they had plagued her with enough questions during the separation.

Leaving them be, Peyton moved to the kitchen to start dinner. She was cutting up carrots when Lucas entered the kitchen, Dillon toddling along at his side. "Look, Dill, Mama's home."

Dillon made no move toward Peyton. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Luke's legs and refused to let go. "The novelty will wear off and I'll be back in his good graces, of that I have no doubt."

Hefting his son into his arms, Lucas asked, "How long have you been back?"

"Not long. I saw you in the backyard with them and didn't want to intrude."

"Your presence may have helped." He dug into his back pocket, extracting a sheet of paper.

"What's this?" Peyton asked as Lucas held it out to her.

"A letter from Gilly's teacher. Apparently a boy tried to kiss her on the playground and she walloped him between the legs," Lucas said, wincing upon the thought of his daughter wreaking havoc on a poor boy's genitals. Poor kid. However, his daughter insisted that he deserved his "smackdown".

Peyton gasped as she took the paper from him and quickly read over the note. "They suspended her? She's six!" she exclaimed as she neared the bottom of the letter. "They want her to think about what she's done for three days. THREE DAYS, Lucas! How are you not more upset by this?"

"She's six, Peyton. Stuff like this happens. They see it on TV and they repeat it. Sure, the playground is no place for her to go all The Rock on a classmate, but kids will be kids."

"No, it's because of us. This is happening because of us, because we aren't stable."

"You can't know that. That may be Gilly's… reflex."

Peyton looked at him in horror. "You're saying that our daughter's first instinct will be to kick boys in the balls? What if she does it to Dillon? What then? She could have damaged this boy for life."

"Have you seen her foot? It's a dainty little thing, hardly incapable of disarming a small boy."

Peyton tamped down the impulse to throw a carrot stick at him. Their six-year-old daughter was suspended from school and he was downplaying it. Although, she shouldn't be surprised. After all, they were talking about Gilly. "If Becca had done the same thing would you still be brushing it off?" she asked, aware that he held a small preference for their youngest daughter.

Lucas threw her a scowl. "Are you saying that I demonstrate favorites between my children?"

"I never said anything to the contrary," Peyton insisted.

"But you implied it!"

"Be that as it may, isn't it true?"

Lucas disentangled Dillon from his legs, picked him and carried him over to Peyton. "I don't have to listen to this in my own damn house," he spat at her as he pushed Dillon into her arms, his body vibrating with barely concealed anger.

"Where the hell are you going?" she yelled after him as he began making his way toward the door.

"Away," he snarled over his shoulder.

"I'm cooking dinner."

"Then, cook. You and the kids need to eat. I've lost my appetite."

As Lucas threw open the door, Peyton inquired, "When can I expect you back?"

"I don't know." The door slammed shut behind him.

Ashamed at herself, Peyton pulled Dillon close, kissing his cheek. It was then that she became aware of her daughters loitering out in the hallway, having witnessed her and Lucas arguing. They both threw her well-deserved scowls, and then took off up the stairs. "Great. Now they hate me, too." Peyton set her son on the cabinet, smoothing back his blonde hair, caressing his soft cheek. "Mama's bad, isn't she?"

"Bad," Dillon agreed.

Grinning, albeit sadly, Peyton nodded. "Yeah, buddy. I know."

—

Returning just after midnight, Lucas realized that Peyton had been waiting up for him, spotting her in the living room as he was making his way toward the staircase. He had spent the last few hours down at the Rivercourt. For a long time he had sat in his SUV, staring at the waterfront, trying to decide whether to return home or not. He refused to call it quits after just a day. He owed his children more than that.

He stepped into the living room, prepared to apologize for storming out when Peyton surprised him with an apology of her own. She unfolded herself from the chair by the window, quickly telling him, "I didn't mean to tear into you like that… or accuse you the way I did. I know you love Becca and Dillon as much as you love Gilly. I know that. I just—"

"I don't deny that Gilly and I are close," he interjected. "I never have, Peyton. She's… I've always felt a kinship with her that I don't with Becca. I can't explain it, but I won't stand by and let you accuse me of loving her more than Becca and Dillon, either. I won't."

"You took up for her. You acted as if what she did didn't matter."

"Of course it mattered. I didn't just sweep it under the rug as you accused. I withheld her surprise and believe me she was plenty remorseful."

Peyton smiled at him. "Becca told me."

"So you know that I told Gilly that she doesn't get her books until she goes back to school and apologizes to the boy?" She nodded. "You know, Peyton, I may lean a little more in Gilly's favor, but I still administer her punishments." He waved a hand between them. "This was never a problem before. You never questioned me or my parenting."

"I know," Peyton breathed. "It was a weird day. I was just…"

"It's because I told you that I wanted you," he realized.

"Did you honestly think that wouldn't mess with my head?"

"Jesus, Peyton. You're my wife. It shouldn't be news to you that I desire you. For Pete's sake we had four children."

"A fact I'm very well aware of, thank you."

Lucas started to approach her, but at the last minute moved in the opposite direction. Staring out the window into the dark night, he told her, "Every night we were apart I thought about you. Holding you. Touching you. I would close my eyes and remember how your skin smelled, how soft it was, what it was like to be inside you… Sometimes I thought it'd be better if I could forget. I drunk myself into a stupor a few times to see if I could, if it was possible."

"And was it?" she inquired curiously.

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "You're in my blood, Peyton. You're a part of me and always will be."

Peyton stared at him, astounded. Twice in one day, Lucas had bared his feelings to her. If she hadn't known how he felt about her before, she definitely knew now. How could he still love and desire her after all they had been through, after all the months they'd spent apart? She couldn't even begin to put her feelings into words and here he was giving these big, emotional speeches.

"Lucas, I-I-I don't know…"

Lucas tried to smile but he was tired of putting on a brave face. Every rejection was beginning to eat away at him. He knew when he'd made the decision to come home that things wouldn't return to how they'd been within the first week, hell he knew he'd be asking for a lot to think that things would be looking up within a month. No, he knew how fragile his wife still was and he didn't want to pressure her, but dammit she'd wanted him home. What more did she expect?

"It's okay. It doesn't matter." He sighed, resigned. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." He expected her to follow suit but when she didn't he turned to look back at her. "You coming?"

"I'll be up later. You go on ahead."

Peyton watched as Lucas left the room, listened as he ascended the stairs. She waited until she'd heard the shower turn on before she slid down to the floor, crying for the mess that her life had become—the mess she'd made herself.