FIC: FEET ON THE AIR, HEAD ON THE GROUND (2/4)

[carolinablu85]

Title: Feet On The Air, Head On The Ground
Author: carolinablu85
Chapter: 2/4
Characters/Pairings: Noah, Luke, Reid, Dallas (starts off Luke/Reid, but will OF COURSE be Luke/Noah by the end!)
Rating: R for language and violence, A for angst
Spoilers: up through the June 23, 2010 episode, I make it up from there but borrow from canon a little bit
Summary: "I want you to hit me as hard as you can."  Noah loses himself after losing Luke.
Disclaimer: I disclaim. I own a pair of sneakers, a cell phone, and some other stuff. The show? Nope, not that.
A/N: Based on a wonderful, beautiful prompt by natashaodwalla: "Fight Club." And then this was born :)

Chapter 1  |


CHAPTER TWO

Reid wasn’t one for regrets. He didn’t look at life that way. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. If he ever came across any consequences in that, he could deal. He didn’t regret.

Which was why his current situation rankled him. He was feeling... uncertain. For the first time in years, he was questioning actions, words, feelings. He was questioning himself.

He hated that.

He wanted to blame Luke. Luke, who had reeled him in but not all the way. Luke, who was always there smiling and teasing and kissing him, but never more. Luke, who insisted they talk like a couple and act like a couple, but wasn’t actually letting them be a couple. And not just in sex, but in everything. Luke, who was holding back.

Luke, who still cared about Noah. Probably still loved him, though he’d never admit it. Reid hadn’t be able to hear all of that argument between the two former lovers (yeah, he wasn’t about to think about that either) last week, but he had seen Luke’s face. Even in that moment of frustration with Noah, Luke had shown more of an anything than he really ever showed Reid.

But he couldn’t really blame Luke, could he? He had known going into this relationship that Luke had been in love with someone else. Sure, he didn’t realize that love was as deep as it was, but he had assumed it would fade. Would become just another memory. But it hadn’t, and he had let himself get drawn into a relationship based on unresolved feelings and regrets.

He hated regrets.

He wanted to blame Noah, who still had some hold over Luke. Who was still held by Luke in return. Who seemed to leave a trace of himself in every place of Oakdale that he and Luke ever go. Who was admired and talked about by Hugheses and Snyders alike.

But he couldn’t blame Noah either. The guy had been in one impossible deal after another, and he had done what Reid probably would have done in the same situation (and didn’t that scare him a little?). Noah wasn’t a bad guy by any means, and in another time or place it was possible that Reid might’ve even liked him. And Reid had to admit he had taken advantage of an unstable situation to make a play for Luke. But he didn’t regret that, because now at least he had Luke. (Who did Noah have? Reid had no idea.)

He didn’t know who to blame. It wasn’t like Luke and Noah had even tried to be around each other, and it wasn’t like Noah was trying all that hard to win Luke back, obviously. Last week during that argument, his face had looked blanker than it had when he’d been blind. Enough to unnerve even Reid, watching from afar.

Maybe that’s all this was. Reid was just unnerved. And he was frustrated by the way he wasn’t connecting fully with Luke and frustrated by how slowly the new wing was being put together and frustrated by how patients could still die now matter how fucking good at his job he was...

He wouldn’t allow himself to regret any of his decisions since allowing himself to be brought do Oakdale. He couldn’t live with regrets.

But he was also having a hard time dealing with this pent up frustration, which was why he was here now. When his patient from today had finally come clean about how he had gotten his bruises, Reid found himself somewhere between intrigued and skeptical. A fight club? Really?

But here it was. And it might be exactly what he needed to relieve the tension of his life right now. Clear his head, so that tomorrow he could do his job to the perfection he always required. He had done some boxing while in medical school, and it had been the perfect release for him. Sure, there was a risk of damaging his hands, but sometimes that made the fight all the more interesting.

“Doc,” Raymond, the patient who had invited him, waved him over to where he stood with three other men. Reid made his way over, sidestepping the men who were cheering on a current fight. “Doc, this is Rob and Angel, they kinda run this joint. And Dallas, too. Guys, this is the new guy for the night. Dr...” Raymond looked at him again. “Shit, I don’t even know your first name.”

“Reid Oliver,” he supplied, shaking first Rob, then Angel’s, hand. When he held his hand out to the guy Dallas, he was surprised to see the man studying him intently, a strange look on his face. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Dallas’s eyes were almost wary, and Reid couldn’t figure out why. “Not yet,” Dallas answered, as though that made any sort of sense.

Before he could get any further, Rob clapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like this round’s about to end, let’s introduce you and get you in the ring, so to speak.”

Reid nodded, following Rob to the center of the room. Raymond had briefed him on the rules beforehand; he knew he was required to fight tonight. He glanced back at weird guy Dallas (gee, wonder where his parents were when he was conceived?), but the man was scanning around the room hurriedly, as though looking for someone in particular.

“Alright guys,” Rob called out, getting everyone’s attention. Reid noticed that the man didn’t have to raise his voice much for that to happen- these men respected him. Something good to know. This was actually a crowd that Reid didn’t want to piss off if at all possible.

Rob gestured over to him. “This is Reid. Raymond brought him in, tonight’s his first night.” A couple of the men around them nodded to him, Reid nodded back. “So Doc, since it’s your first night, you get your pick.” He swept his hand out across the room. “Who do you feel like fighting tonight?”

Reid smirked a little as the other guys chuckled. He looked over the group, sizing each person up. He was just about to point to a guy- one who looked to be about his weight class- when a voice, quiet and firm, spoke up from the back of the crowd. “I’m doing it.”

Reid turned with the group, most of whom wore different levels of shocked expressions on their faces. He couldn’t help but narrow his eyes when Noah stepped forward. Shit. No way in hell had he expected this little development. Well, fuck you too, Fate. Noah was already stripped to the waist, and he stood there with his arms crossed, face still so neutral and blank. But there was something else there, a slight air of... daring, maybe?

Reid took a moment to look him over, ignoring the quiet voice in the back of his head that questioned whether or not his former patient should even be here. And questioned whether or not his former patient was even the type of person who would be here. Neither of those were his concern.

Noah was still waiting patiently, one eyebrow raising just slightly. Reid noted the cut next to it, the bruise on his jaw, the multitude of bruises- some old, some new- that were scattered across his chest and abdomen. This definitely wasn’t Noah’s first night here. But Reid wasn’t too concerned- it was Noah Mayer, after all. Oakdale’s preeminent boy scout. He could handle this. And he couldn’t let Noah (or any of the other guys here) see if he was rattled or not.

He nodded finally, making sure he was as collected and together and possible. “Sure,” was all he said, gesturing towards Noah. Noah didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t nod back. Just started stretching his arms and shoulders, getting ready. Reid decided to do the same, forcing himself to size up Noah with a calculating look. Damn, the guy was built. When had that happened? Or had he always looked like this under the seven hundred layers of shirts he always wore?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rob, Angel, and a few other men passing money around quickly. Obviously making a bet on the outcome. Except for Dallas, who stood near Noah, watching them both with what almost looked like worry. Ah, so Noah did have a wingman.

Finally the two of them stood facing each other, ready to go. Everything got silent. Reid saw Noah close his eyes for just a second, breathe deeply. Then Rob, from somewhere off to the side, called out a quiet, “Go.”

And the room exploded. Well, the crowd did. And the energy around them. But Noah remained calm and cool as ever, his arms and hands up in a natural fighting stance, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet.

Reid did the same, and the two of them circled each other. He waited for Noah to throw a punch, snarl at him, do anything, but nothing happened. Was he really that calm, or was he baiting Reid? Reid hated not knowing, hated not having the upper hand, and that caused him to open his mouth. Of course. “What are you waiting for, Mr. Mayer?” he asked, just barely heard over the crowd’s noise. “The chance to sucker punch me again?”

He waited for the flash of anger in Noah’s eyes or for him to let his guard down, lose his temper. But there was nothing. If Reid believed in that stupid phrase about ‘the pit of his stomach,’ he would be feeling it now. What the hell?

Noah’s voice was just as quiet and disinterested as his demeanor. “You should conserve your breath.”

That was all he said. Reid wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t want to take them off of his opponent. “Why’s that?”

The answer came quicker than he had expected. Turned out it didn’t matter where Reid’s eyes were, Noah found a way to hit him anyway. Square in the chest, right in his center of gravity. Before he could figure it out, Reid was on his back on the ground, trying to suck in air as his lungs suddenly became empty and useless.

By the time his senses came back to him, he realized Noah was crouched down, leaning over him. Reid braced himself, waiting for the punch he knew was coming. As Noah lifted one hand, he started calculating what would be the best excuse to use the next day to explain away the bruises that were about to start-

Nothing happened.

Reid was more than shocked (and confused) when Noah reached past Reid with his hand and tapped on the floor three times. Noah was tapping out. What the fuck? The men around them were just as confused, their yells fading out to murmurs. Noah didn’t seem fazed at all, staring at Reid with a steady look on his face. Reid just stared back.

After another moment Noah broke eye contact, stood, and walked over to Rob and Angel. Ignoring the confused (and in some cases, disgruntled- Reid guessed they had bet on him to win?) looks from the guys around him, Noah said a few quiet words to the two men in charge, then retreated back to the corner of the room.

Reid picked himself up off the floor, warring between curiosity and embarrassment. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted his first fight to go. He wasn’t sure what kind of impression it left on the rest of the people here. That in mind, he went over to Angel as Rob got the next fight started.

“Sorry about the debut, man,” Angel gave him a shrug. “Boy’s never acted like that before.”

Reid refused to think of Noah as a ‘kid’ or a ‘boy.’ Because he was the same age as Luke and that... He shook his head. “What did he say to you?”

Angel frowned a little, obviously confused. “He told us we should be careful letting you fight. Said you shouldn’t be risking your hands or whatever because of your job.”

Reid could only be described as dumbfounded right now. And that was almost as horrible as having regrets, he was finding. It felt disgusting. He glanced over at Noah, then back at Angel. He had no idea what to say.

For the rest of the night, he kept one eye on Noah. Unless he was fighting (which happened twice, and yeah- the guy could definitely fight a hell of a lot better than Reid had expected), Noah stood in the back of the crowd, watching the bouts with a stony, empty expression. He would respond when Dallas spoke to him, but that was about it. No remorse, no anger, no excitement.

Reid hated to admit it, but he was a little freaked out by that. This wasn’t the Noah who used to be his patient. Reid didn’t know who this person was or if there was really much of a person there at all. He didn’t know whether or not he should care. He couldn’t, he couldn’t care.

He didn’t live with regrets.

************

So he didn’t let it bother him. Not for the rest of the night, not for the next morning, not for nearly his entire shift at the hospital that day. Noah wasn’t his friend, wasn’t even his patient anymore. No reason for him to care. Maybe the only reason it bugged him was because he knew someone else would care-

“Hey!” Luke popped into his line of sight with the timing of a cartoon character, startling Reid out of his thoughts. “I was bored at home, so I came a little early for lunch. Are you free now?”

“What? Oh, yeah, hold on,” Reid shook his head, moving to the Nurses Station to drop off the files in his hands. “Lunch. Sure.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Is something wrong? You’re acting kinda... Whoa, wait. What happened to your jaw?” He came closer, hesitating for half a second before touching the bruise there.

That hesitation bore into Reid’s brain. That hesitation was what kept Reid from telling him the truth. “Oh, a patient yesterday. Guess he didn’t like my diagnosis. No big deal.”

Luke pulled back again with a smirk. “Didn’t like your diagnosis or didn’t like your delivery of the diagnosis?” he asked expectantly.

Even though it had been his goal, Reid was irrationally annoyed that Luke bought the excuse so easily. Shit, now he was being irrational? What was wrong with him? For just a second he wanted to tell Luke exactly how he had gotten the bruise on his face, the several bruises on his chest and ribs.

And he really wanted to tell Luke about one particular bruise on the center of his chest. Wanted to show it to Luke, ask him if he recognized the hand that made it. For a second he really wanted to test this thing between them and test himself. Because God only knew how he’d react if Luke did recognize some trace of Noah on him.

But he couldn’t do any of that. For one thing, it was against the rules. And the club wasn’t exactly legal. And he was betting it wouldn’t do much for his reputation with hospital donors if they knew he did this in his free time.

And for him and Luke, they had one major rule: You do not talk about Noah. Reid was just as avid about this rule as Luke was. He wasn’t about to tell Luke about this neo-Noah that he’d encountered last night. Luke would go straight into his Lassie-Noah’s-fallen-down-the-well-rescue mode. And then he’d kiss Reid goodbye, figuratively and maybe literally. So no.

Instead he just smirked back, threw out a comment about idiots with half a brain to begin with, and led Luke down to the hospital break room. Lunch. Together. That was one thing they could do.

************

The 2 and 3pm hours at Java were always the worst. The seconds and minutes dragged on, to the point where Noah could swear he heard ticking even though there were no clocks around. It felt like time slowed down to nothing, like Noah was trapped in a vortex of silence, empty chairs, and coffee cups. Noah was so fucking sick of coffee.

He had a textbook out, half-reading and half-cleaning the counter, when the door opened slowly. Even the door seemed to be stuck in the stupid vortex. Noah sighed, shutting his book, plastering on a somewhat welcoming and professional face, and turned to greet the customer.

Who was Luke. “Hey,” Luke raised his hand as though to wave, thought the better of it, and stuffed them in his pockets instead.

“Hey,” Noah answered, almost just almost feeling wary. Maybe he did feel wary, he just couldn’t remember what that felt like. “What... Can I get you anything?”

Luke offered a small smile. “Iced coffee?”

“Sure,” Noah turned, more grateful than he’d let himself admit that he could get Luke out of his view. Which, how funny was that- after months of agonizing and dying over never seeing Luke’s face again, now it seemed just as wrong to have it around.

Maybe ‘funny’ wasn’t the right word.

Instead of going to a table, Luke moved around the counter to sit on one of the high stools nearby. Noah fought off a grimace. Too close. Luke was too close. Noah didn’t like how his hand trembled for a fraction of a second as he added the ice to Luke’s drink. No. He smacked himself mentally to get it together, trying to draw on the focus he used while fighting. This didn’t hurt. He didn’t let it hurt.

“School’s going okay?” Luke spoke up.

“Yeah,” Noah didn’t turn around, didn’t look at him. He concentrated on mixing the drink. His hand automatically started to reach for the caramel syrup- Luke’s favorite- but then stopped. Luke didn’t ask for it in his order. It wasn’t Noah’s job or Noah’s place to know Luke’s preferences anymore. He had no reason to give Luke extra treats anymore. He left the caramel syrup where it was.

“Good. That’s, that’s good.” Luke sounded tentative. Nervous. But hey, at least he wasn’t pretending to be in charge of Noah anymore, or demanding to know details of his life that he would already know if he wasn’t avoiding Noah, or taking pity on him by explaining the problems of his and Reid’s sex life.

Noah just nodded a little, a short jerk of his head, and set the coffee mug down in front of Luke. Then he turned back again, refusing to face him, cleaning up the coffee maker and workspace instead. He was probably being rude (he knew he was), but he couldn’t get himself to... try.

“When do you think you’ll graduate?” Luke asked behind him.

Noah’s hand stilled from where it had been wiping down the counter. “End of the summer,” he finally answered. Why was Luke doing this? What was the point?

“Really?” Luke sounded genuinely interested. Noah’s hand shook again, so he had to tighten it into a fist around the dishrag. “Wow, that’s great!”

“Yeah,” now Noah was the one who sounded tentative. Damn it. This wasn’t supposed to happen, Noah wasn’t supposed to feel anything around Luke anymore. They were supposed to be done. No future, no hopes, no chance. Why was Luke here now? Maybe... maybe what Noah had said in the hospital got to Luke? Maybe he did want to be a part of Noah’s life? Maybe-

“Noah. Um, can I ask you something?” Luke’s voice was softer now, almost gentle. Like it used to sound when he was gearing up for some big important question.

Noah couldn’t stop himself from turning to face Luke now, leaning back against the workspace counter. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling that tiny, stupid bit of hope in his chest. What could Luke possibly want from him? “Yeah?”

“Today, I had lunch with... Reid had a bruise on his face. He made up some story about where he got it, but I don’t believe him. Did...” Luke took a deep breath. “Did you hit him?”

For a second Noah was pretty sure he must have heard wrong. He stared at Luke, waiting for his brain to rearrange those sounds so they made sense to him, waiting for Luke to laugh and reveal the joke, waiting for a piano to drop on his head. Something. But no, Luke was regarded him seriously, with that look of begging Noah to tell him the truth.

Fuck this. That stupid bit of hope got locked back away in the vault, door slamming shut. “Excuse me?”

“Did you hit him?” Luke asked again, almost sad.

Noah didn’t care that Luke was sad. “Are you kidding me? You come in here just to, to accuse me of hitting your boyfriend? Why would it automatically be me that hit him? Of course it was the jealous ex-boyfriend with anger issues, right? Of course that’s the only reason you’d ever come talk to me.” He made sure to keep his voice even. He wouldn’t give anyone, not even Luke, the satisfaction of knowing he was upset.

Luke’s eyes widened and then narrowed in the span of a few seconds. “Why else would I be here? It’s not like we can be around each other without arguing. It’s not like you’ve shown me at all that you actually want me around. That whole avoidance thing is a two-way street, you know. You’ve been staying away from me too, just like you have been for the last nine months.”

“I’m really tired of you always playing the victim, Luke,” Noah never moved from his position.

“And I’m really tired of you always playing the martyr!” For as calm as Noah remained, Luke got more and more agitated. “So maybe neither of us has ever really changed!”

Noah was pretty sure he winced, though he tried so hard not to. “You have. You used to love me.”

Luke was silent for a second then, his face softening. “Noah, it’s not that-”

“Don’t,” Noah turned his head to the side, the only movement he let himself make. He didn’t want to hear Luke’s pity or empty words. Or worse, the I’ll-always-love-you-but-I’m-not-in-love-with-you speech. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Which of course just caused Luke to combust once again. “Of course you don’t. God, you can’t just expect me to know how you feel and then act accordingly, okay? You know what? I may not always like what Reid thinks or has to say, but at least he lets me know what’s going on his head!”

Except today, apparently. Because you didn’t believe his story, Noah might have pointed that out if he actually cared. But instead he took a second to squash down the bitter taste in his mouth at being compared to Luke’s new boyfriend. Instead he fell back on a favorite defense mechanism, sarcasm. “Well then, I’m so glad you’re with someone now who’s such a perfect match for you.”

“Maybe he is!” Luke near-shouted.

That stopped both of them. Noah felt some part of him, the part of him that had been ‘him’ in the past three years, yell and cry and curl up into a ball. The part he had managed to lock away in that vault, get rid of. Well, even if he hadn’t, he had a good chance to do that now. He obviously didn’t need it, did he?

Luke continued, killing him even more. “Maybe... maybe this was a sign,” he said calmer. And fuck if that didn’t make it more unbearable. “Maybe you and I just aren’t right for each other. But I’m with Reid now. And he and I might be, and I need to see that through.”

For a long moment, Noah did nothing. He stood still, not looking at Luke, not looking at anything. Finally he nodded a little and faced forward again. Luke met his gaze, eyes sad and asking for... something. Noah didn’t know what. Reassurance? A fight? Noah’s blessing? He wouldn’t be getting any of them. “Get out.”

Luke took a step back without thinking. “What?” he half-whispered, eyes wide.

“Get out,” Noah nodded towards the door, then turned his back to Luke again. He hadn’t finished cleaning the coffee machine earlier. He should do it now. He needed to do it now. He kept imagining the vault inside him, and he used all the self-control he had to lock it up tighter and tighter. By the time the footsteps behind him walked away, the door opening and shutting just as slowly as it had before, he was back under control.

He didn’t feel anything.

************

One more day. One more fucking day. It was all Noah could think about right now. He had to wait one more day for a fight. There was a very real part of him that thought he might not be able to wait that long.

He sat at the bar at Yo’s, drinking steadily from the pint in front of him. He kept his fingers wrapped around the glass, hoping it would stop them from twitching. He needed a fight. It was the only thing he really looked forward to anymore. And even that was lessened now, because Reid was there.

It wasn’t like he’d had to fight Reid again after that first night, but he was still there. That was bad enough. They never talked, never stood near each other, never looked at each other, but Noah still knew he was there. It was like a black storm cloud- a constant reminder of what he had that Noah didn’t, what he got to go home to.

And Noah had stupidly told Rob and Angel to be careful for Reid. Because any damage to his head or hands hurt more people than just him- he had patients and hospital donors and Katie (and Luke) to worry about. And because of Noah’s stupid decision, Reid didn’t fight as much as the other guys, but often acted as a medic or patched up any major injuries from the fights. He got to be the well-respected saint again, but hey- at least this time Noah could see it happening, right?

He took another big gulp from his glass. But what did it really matter to him, right? He was just there to throw some punches and get that rush. That was all he needed anymore. He could survive just fine on that. After fighting, everything else in his life got the volume turned down. Everything was bearable.

There was movement beside him, someone sitting down on the barstool next to his. He heard the bartender ask for an order, and a voice- male, a little bit older than him- ordered a shot of something or other. Noah wasn’t really paying attention, until the voice said, “You know what? Make it two.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed the guy turn towards him.

Noah put down his almost-empty beer. He turned to face the guy as well, looking him over. The guy was older, maybe close to thirty, but good looking. Definitely good-looking. About as tall as Noah, with closely-cropped dark hair and almost as dark-brown eyes. Eyes that were looking him up and down very intently.

He didn’t smile, but he let one side up his mouth turn up just slightly. “The second one’s for me?” he asked. His voice sounded deep and rough even to his own ears. Possibly because it had been about a day since he’d actually spoken. (Unless he was at Java with customers, there really wasn’t all that much need to talk.)

The guy smiled, and it was a perfectly boring, nondescript smile that Noah appreciated at the moment. “Yeah, if you want it.” The bartender pushed the shot glasses in front of the guy, and he paid for them quickly. “I wasn’t sure if you would, I’ve seen you in here before and you’ve only ever had beer in front of you.”

Noah raised his eyebrows a little at that. So the guy had been watching him, huh? Then he nodded, finishing off the last of his beer. “Usually,” he answered then. He turned fully on the stool to face the guy, crossing his arms over his chest.

He also didn’t miss the way the guy watch the motion with another smile. “So I’d ask if you come here often, but we both already know the answer,” the man joked, sliding one of the shot glasses over to him.

Noah kept the smirk on his face, and didn’t roll his eyes. Victory. “Is this all you’re looking for tonight? To feed me bad pickup lines and buy me a cheap drink?”

The guy looked a little thrown for a second. “No,” he finally answered, getting with the program. “It’s not.”

Noah nodded. “Then what are you looking for?”

“You,” he answered quicker this time. Firm. “Tonight. Just you. Nothing more.”

Noah answered by downing the shot, shoving the empty glass back towards the man. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

The guy threw back his own shot quickly, then stood, nodding towards the door. Noah followed him out of the bar. “By the way,” the man said as they headed for his car, “I’m-”

“I don’t want to know your name,” Noah cut in. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” He knew it didn’t. He didn’t care about names. It was better that way, actually. He had convinced himself of this awhile ago, and he convinced himself of this yet again tonight as they shoved each other through the door of the guy’s apartment, bodies already fused together.

He knew this wasn’t real, Noah wasn’t an idiot. He knew it was just a quick fix until tomorrow night, that sex provided almost as much of an escape as fighting did. It was all about losing himself in something, in a moment, in real contact with another person. It wasn’t enough, but it was just enough to get by. That’s all Noah was looking for.

Which was why he let himself slam the other guy back against the wall in the living room, not even bothering to look for a bedroom, and kissed him with fury and teeth and fire. Which was why he let the other guy shove him down onto a couch, pulling his shirt off desperately as though it were a noose around him. And he bit and sucked along neck and shoulder, bucking his hips up to help the guy get his belt and jeans off faster.

But no, he wasn’t an idiot. In the morning he’d wake up just as empty as he had been when he woke up this morning. But at least there were a few seconds in here, if the guy touched his face or kissed his chest over his heart, that he could pretend he was with someone else, somewhere else.

He loved and hated those few seconds more than he loved and hated that he would wake up and remember that the face was a stranger’s.

************

There were so many things wrong with so many things, Luke didn’t know where to begin. There was something strained between him and Reid, he could feel it. Both of them just seemed to be going through the motions, but the depth that had once been there between them (there had been depth at one point, right?) was gone. When they touched, when they kissed, it felt like they were only doing it because it was what boyfriends were supposed to do.

And Luke couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Not his friends who, while they supported him and were tolerable of Reid, still got those weird, distant looks on their faces. Like they were remembering different (better) times. With another person. They never said a name, and neither did Luke. His family was the same way. He knew his parents and grandmothers would love him and support him no matter what, but he could see hesitation on their faces sometimes, wanting to ask about someone else but unable to.

He couldn’t talk to Reid about it either. For one, it would acknowledge that there was a problem between them. There weren’t supposed to be any problems. Their relationship was good, solid, adult. Luke was supposed to be those things now too. And how exactly would he bring this up with Reid, anyway? He’d look like an idiot. Like a teenager. A brat. He might as well pass him a note in the hallway that said ‘Do you really like me? Check yes or no.’

And which box would you check? a really annoying voice asked him. Luke told the voice to shut up. The voice ignored him. Which box would you check if the note was from Noah? Shut up.

He didn’t- couldn’t- think about Noah right now. Maybe ever again. It had been a few days since their fight at Java, since Noah had kicked him out. And the disgusting, heavy feeling in his stomach, like he needed to throw up but couldn’t, just wouldn’t leave. It was like the world’s worst hangover. And it was his fault.

Noah had turned his back on Luke. Literally. And Luke couldn’t blame him. It was like he had been trapped in his body, watching in some weird paralysis, as he told Noah that they weren’t right for each other. That they were well and truly over. That... there was no hope for them. Of all the things Noah had done in the past that hurt Luke, he’d never said something like that. But Luke had.

And Noah had let him. He hadn’t argued or fought back or even gotten upset. And that was as painful as anything. Even Luke couldn’t bring Noah out of whatever cold shell he’d thrown himself into. Luke wasn’t some magical cure. He finally got it- he couldn’t fix Noah. He never had been able to, he had been kidding himself for the last three years. Just being in love wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

But he was enough for Reid. And Reid was enough for him. It wasn’t perfect, wasn’t amazing, wasn’t lighting anything on fire, but it worked. It made him smile, made him feel happy and wanted. If he couldn’t be head-over-heels, shooting-stars in love, he could at least have this, right? He deserved to have something.

What does Noah deserve? Shut up.

Luke bit back a sigh, remembering at the last second that he had to be quiet. His focus right now shouldn’t be on Noah, it should be on Reid. That’s why he was here right now. He still wasn’t buying Reid’s story about getting hit by a patient. And his new ‘OR’ meetings on Tuesday and Friday nights were slightly suspicious too. So Luke did what he did best- he got nosy and investigated.

Which was why he was here now, trying to clamp down on his anger and distrust with each passing second. Reid had walked from the hospital out to Old Town, to a door at the end of the alley behind Yo’s with a couple other men. Who were definitely not a Memorial surgeons. What the hell was Reid up to? And more importantly, why was he lying to Luke about it?

He waited another fifteen minutes, until he was sure no one else was coming or going, then crept into the building. It was a dark hallway, save for one room near the end. Luke made his way slowly, unsettled and nervous. What was Reid doing here?

He hid in the shadows of a doorway across from the room, peeking in. It was a grungy, dimly lit room. A few dozen men (wait, was that Dallas?) were crowded around the center, hollering and cheering on something in the center of the crowd. Finally, Luke could hear other sounds besides the yelling, and his eyes widened. No way. But then the group shifted a little, and Luke could see two men fighting, really whaling on each other.

His eyes snapped open wide. Holy shit. This is what Reid was doing twice a week? This is why he had those bruises? No way. But there he was. Luke gripped the edge of the doorway he was hiding in. Reid stood there, half an eye on the fight and half an eye on the guy whose hand he was bandaging up.

Luke studied Reid. He looked more... Reid-like, than he had in months. Focused, charged, alive. He didn’t even look that way with Luke anymore. He was also a little bloody and rough around the edges, his shirt unbuttoned and open across his chest. Luke had to admit, it was kind of hot.

The yelling got louder for a moment, and Luke’s attention was drawn back to the fight. With the crowd and the frantic movements, he couldn’t really see too much of the fighters, but he could tell it was pretty brutal. Both men were taking hard hits, and that hollow sound of a fist making contact with a body filled the room between shouts. Luke couldn’t help but flinch with each hit. These two guys were doing damage to each other, and definitely not going easy or giving up.

Finally, as the crowd reached some crazed, fevered volume, one of the bodies hit the floor. The crowd moved a bit again, and Luke could see the two fighters. The guy on the ground was curled onto his side, tapping his hand sloppily onto the floor. His opponent stood over him, reaching a hand down to help him up. Luke almost laughed silently at the incongruous gesture, but then he saw who the hand belonged to.

Oh. Fuck.

His grip on the doorframe tightened enough to chip off splinters of wood. His legs shook. His whole world tilted like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm. Never in a million years would he have thought that Noah would be here. Would be fighting. Would be standing over some guy he just beat into the ground, shirtless and ripped as all fuck, bruises and blood scattered across his upper body. Jesus.

Noah shook hands with the guy as the man stood shakily, then turned and headed to the far corner of the room, tilting his head to acknowledge a couple other guys that spoke to him or clapped him on the back.

Luke kept his gaze zeroed in on him, watching as Dallas moved to stand next to Noah, handing him his shirt, speaking quietly. Noah nodded a few times but didn’t speak. He also didn’t put his shirt back on, and part of Luke didn’t mind. But another part of him was shaking, terrified, wanting to grab Noah and get him out of here. He shouldn’t be here. This place was dark and ugly, and not Noah.

He wasn’t sure how time passed after that, but pretty soon the group was dispersing. Luke shrank back further into his hiding spot, watching as the men filed out of the room, some of them talking and laughing, none of them looking like they’d just spent an hour or two beating up someone or getting beaten up. They looked almost carefree. Relieved.

Luke frowned at that, but kept quiet. Even when Reid walked by, advising someone on how to take care of their sprained wrist. Luke stayed where he was, somehow knowing exactly who the last person out of the room would be.

Sure enough, Noah shuffled into the hallway, pulling his t-shirt back on, covering up the evidence of who he was now. And Luke couldn’t take it. “Noah...” he said softly, moving out of the doorway, nearly choking on the name. Noah didn’t jump, didn’t gasp, didn’t even look startled. He turned to face Luke, his expression unapologetic and unmoved. He didn’t say anything. Luke tried again, “Noah, I...” he had no idea what to say.

“Noah! Come on kid, hurry up!” a voice called from the door out to the alley. Luckily Luke was still in the shadows, and no one saw him.

He glanced in the direction of the voice, seeing Dallas and another man- the one who had called an end to the night, Luke recalled- waiting there. He looked back at Noah. “I, I just...” Damn it, he needed to say something, didn’t he?

Noah’s eyes narrowed, the barest form of a glare. He looked away, turning and spitting out a little blood onto the ground. “You’re lucky you didn’t get caught spying,” was all he said, his voice rough and gritty.

That, combined with the image Luke now had of Noah fighting, almost caused his body to react before his mind could. Almost. “You, um,” Luke couldn’t remember the last time he had been so at a loss for words.

Or when Noah had been so in control of them. “Go take care of your boyfriend, Luke,” Noah spoke shortly, not quite impassioned enough to be considered snapping. There was another call of his name from the door, and Noah was walking away.

And Luke let him go.

I am Noah’s complete lack of surprise.

to be continued...