Tag Teaming LuRe
I sit behind him at a shaded table in front of a small town coffee shop. He can't see me. Even if he could see me, I would be different than the human conceptualization of me. I don't have wings on my back. I don't fly, but I will levitate when necessary to get a better shot. I certainly don't wear a diaper. And I'm not cherubic. My Roman name is Cupid. My Greek name is Eros. In Latin, they call me Amor. I am called the god of erotic love, the god of desire, the god of affection. People generally don't believe in me; they consider me a myth. But the truth is, I am just one part of the vastness of all that they don't understand, all that they try to explain through mysticism, religion, and science.
I am fate. I am a spark.
But enough about me.
Here I sit behind this man called Luke. I've dealt with him before, him and his wildly beautiful heart. He's young, but then they're all so very young; they just don't realize it. He looks up from his book and glances across the shopping square. A distance away, a man called Reid walks toward him in the sunlight. He is talking on his cell phone and smiling. Smiling? Maybe even laughing. This perplexes the man called Luke, and he cocks his head, his eyes taking in the person he refers to as Dr. Oliver. He notices the faded jeans, slung low on his hips, the plain, soft, maroon-ish t-shirt that hugs his toned biceps and stretches loosely across his chest. Luke has never seen the doctor's bare arms before, hasn't ever taken notice of his tight frame. He likes what he sees. My bow begins to vibrate in my hand.
I know what you're thinking. Two men? Really, Cupid? You're jumping on that politically popular bandwagon too? But here's the thing. Mortals complicate the Hades out of things when it's really very simple. Love is love.
Luke continues to stare, admiring the large watch that encircles Reid's wrist and the unused pair of black sunglasses that rests atop his head. His hair appears auburn in the sunlight, my accomplice, Apollo, lighting him beautifully. Luke ponders that he's never noticed this before, the red in Dr. Oliver's hair. My hand tightens around my bow, and I reach back and pull an arrow out of my quiver.
Reid pauses on the sidewalk, finishing his conversation, a shopping bag dangling from the fingers of his other hand. Luke can barely hear the deep tone of his voice, unable to decipher the words, but sensing a lighter roll to it than he is used to hearing from the grumpy MD. Reid ends his phone call, and I move to stand on the other side of him. He looks up and his eyes meet Luke's.
Now again, you might assume that this is a two-for-one operation, but you would be wrong. I'm only here at this moment in time for Luke. You see, I already lodged an arrow into Reid's heart weeks ago in a dusty police station. My fellow sprites said that it wasn't possible, that Reid's heart was too hard. But in reality his heart is tender; he just guards it fiercely. And the truth is, I'd never been successful at landing an arrow in that guarded place. However, on that day, as Reid glanced over at Luke in front of the TV, their eyes met, the Centurion briefly turned away from his post, and my arrow found its mark. In the weeks since then, the spark has turned into a flame, and although the good doctor tries to ignore it, it grows and becomes more insistent with each interaction he has with Luke.
Why didn't I also lodge a trajectile into Luke's heart that day as well, you ask? It was because he already had another arrow there. It was loosening its hold on his heart, but Luke was hesitant to let it go. Eventually, he slowly and reluctantly pulled it out. It hasn't quite healed, but scar tissue is forming.
"Mr. Snyder," Reid says as he approaches Luke, the name different on his tongue, the derision gone, a playful lilt taking its place, a fleeting grin creasing his face. I load my arrow. I nod to Apollo. I raise my bow as Apollo skillfully lights the doctor's eyes. Luke notices the sparkle, appreciates the shade of blue. I smile and take aim. This particular heart is an easy target, and I am an expert marksman. Luke's tongue barely brushes his bottom lip. My arrow sails and finds its goal. A small, sharp intake of air. An almost imperceptible gasp. Luke suddenly can't look at the man in front of him. The seed of attraction is planted. He smiles, looks away. "Hi, Dr. Oliver."
Success.
Reid sits down at the table without asking permission. "Are you stalking me, Mr. Snyder?" Flirty, flirt, flirt, flirt. Luke returns his gaze to Reid's and furrows his brow. "Because I run into you everywhere," Reid continues, "I think you're following me." He leans toward Luke ever so slightly.
Luke smiles too now and bites his bottom lip briefly. "It's a small town, Dr. Oliver, and no, I'm not following you. You asked me to stay away from you, remember? And I'm trying, believe me." Luke chuckles and tugs at his right ear absent-mindedly. Oh my Theos. Aren't mortals adorably awkward?
Reid rests his head against his knuckles. He nods toward the book in Luke's hand. "Michael Crichton. Is it good? I haven't read that one yet. It's been sitting on my nightstand, but I haven't gotten to it."
"Yeah, so far. It was completed by another author after his death."
Reid nods. "I like his stuff. He got his MD at Harvard too."
"Oh, yeah? Were you in the same graduating class?" Luke teases. "Ya know like in 1950 or something?"
Reid smiles and shakes his head. "Fuck you, Snyder," he drawls out playfully. It's the first time he's dropped the "mister."
Luke blushes and looks away from Reid again because he finds himself not entirely adverse to that idea. He rubs at his chest. He doesn't realize it, but he feels my arrow there,
Reid clears his throat. "Have you eaten dinner?"
"It's only 3:15..." Luke answers.
"Oh.....yeah.............right, um......so I've been wanting to try that burger outdoor patio place over on 72 by the river, and I uh..." Reid digs around in the plastic shopping bag in front of him, pulling out a flyer. "...and I saw this at the book store." He puts the flyer in front of Luke. "They're having a few live acts there today, starting at 4:30, and so I was thinking of going over there for a burger and some beer...ya kknow...listen to some music? So if you're hungry and you want to go..........ya know, you're welcome to join me. If you want..........or not. No big deal if you don't, but it's nice out, and nurse what's-her-face told me that the food is good. So...anyway................I didn't eat lunch, so I'm going to head over there now, and if you want......anyway...." I move to clamp my invisible hand over his babbling mouth, but Luke just smiles. I hear Apollo laugh as I shake my head at this brilliant surgeon's romantic clumsiness.
"I could eat." Luke says. I can tell he's amused and maybe a little confused about the fluttery feeling in his chest.
"Yeah? Ok. Good. I'll drive."
"No...how 'bout I drive. I don't drink, so you can enjoy a few beers, and I'll be the DD. Plus, I have my grandmother's convertible. It's a great day to put the top down." Luke digs around in his pocket and pulls out the key, with a Mercedes symbol dangling from the keychain.
"Richie-fucking-Rich," Reid says as he rolls his eyes, but there's nothing but affection in his voice.
Luke grins. It's the first time the nickname hasn't made him bristle. "Doctor-fucking-asshole," Luke mimics (flirts) back. He chuckles, stands up, and looks down at his shorts. "I need to stop by home first to throw on a pair of jeans."
"Okay," Reid answers, standing. As they walk away, Reid bumps Luke's shoulder with his own and briefly brushes his fingertips along the inside of Luke's wrist.
Bold move, Dr. O.
"Nice work, my friend," Apollo whispers against my right ear.
I nod. "Thanks for the assist, A."
I am fate. I am a spark.
But enough about me.
Here I sit behind this man called Luke. I've dealt with him before, him and his wildly beautiful heart. He's young, but then they're all so very young; they just don't realize it. He looks up from his book and glances across the shopping square. A distance away, a man called Reid walks toward him in the sunlight. He is talking on his cell phone and smiling. Smiling? Maybe even laughing. This perplexes the man called Luke, and he cocks his head, his eyes taking in the person he refers to as Dr. Oliver. He notices the faded jeans, slung low on his hips, the plain, soft, maroon-ish t-shirt that hugs his toned biceps and stretches loosely across his chest. Luke has never seen the doctor's bare arms before, hasn't ever taken notice of his tight frame. He likes what he sees. My bow begins to vibrate in my hand.
I know what you're thinking. Two men? Really, Cupid? You're jumping on that politically popular bandwagon too? But here's the thing. Mortals complicate the Hades out of things when it's really very simple. Love is love.
Luke continues to stare, admiring the large watch that encircles Reid's wrist and the unused pair of black sunglasses that rests atop his head. His hair appears auburn in the sunlight, my accomplice, Apollo, lighting him beautifully. Luke ponders that he's never noticed this before, the red in Dr. Oliver's hair. My hand tightens around my bow, and I reach back and pull an arrow out of my quiver.
Reid pauses on the sidewalk, finishing his conversation, a shopping bag dangling from the fingers of his other hand. Luke can barely hear the deep tone of his voice, unable to decipher the words, but sensing a lighter roll to it than he is used to hearing from the grumpy MD. Reid ends his phone call, and I move to stand on the other side of him. He looks up and his eyes meet Luke's.
Now again, you might assume that this is a two-for-one operation, but you would be wrong. I'm only here at this moment in time for Luke. You see, I already lodged an arrow into Reid's heart weeks ago in a dusty police station. My fellow sprites said that it wasn't possible, that Reid's heart was too hard. But in reality his heart is tender; he just guards it fiercely. And the truth is, I'd never been successful at landing an arrow in that guarded place. However, on that day, as Reid glanced over at Luke in front of the TV, their eyes met, the Centurion briefly turned away from his post, and my arrow found its mark. In the weeks since then, the spark has turned into a flame, and although the good doctor tries to ignore it, it grows and becomes more insistent with each interaction he has with Luke.
Why didn't I also lodge a trajectile into Luke's heart that day as well, you ask? It was because he already had another arrow there. It was loosening its hold on his heart, but Luke was hesitant to let it go. Eventually, he slowly and reluctantly pulled it out. It hasn't quite healed, but scar tissue is forming.
"Mr. Snyder," Reid says as he approaches Luke, the name different on his tongue, the derision gone, a playful lilt taking its place, a fleeting grin creasing his face. I load my arrow. I nod to Apollo. I raise my bow as Apollo skillfully lights the doctor's eyes. Luke notices the sparkle, appreciates the shade of blue. I smile and take aim. This particular heart is an easy target, and I am an expert marksman. Luke's tongue barely brushes his bottom lip. My arrow sails and finds its goal. A small, sharp intake of air. An almost imperceptible gasp. Luke suddenly can't look at the man in front of him. The seed of attraction is planted. He smiles, looks away. "Hi, Dr. Oliver."
Success.
Reid sits down at the table without asking permission. "Are you stalking me, Mr. Snyder?" Flirty, flirt, flirt, flirt. Luke returns his gaze to Reid's and furrows his brow. "Because I run into you everywhere," Reid continues, "I think you're following me." He leans toward Luke ever so slightly.
Luke smiles too now and bites his bottom lip briefly. "It's a small town, Dr. Oliver, and no, I'm not following you. You asked me to stay away from you, remember? And I'm trying, believe me." Luke chuckles and tugs at his right ear absent-mindedly. Oh my Theos. Aren't mortals adorably awkward?
Reid rests his head against his knuckles. He nods toward the book in Luke's hand. "Michael Crichton. Is it good? I haven't read that one yet. It's been sitting on my nightstand, but I haven't gotten to it."
"Yeah, so far. It was completed by another author after his death."
Reid nods. "I like his stuff. He got his MD at Harvard too."
"Oh, yeah? Were you in the same graduating class?" Luke teases. "Ya know like in 1950 or something?"
Reid smiles and shakes his head. "Fuck you, Snyder," he drawls out playfully. It's the first time he's dropped the "mister."
Luke blushes and looks away from Reid again because he finds himself not entirely adverse to that idea. He rubs at his chest. He doesn't realize it, but he feels my arrow there,
Reid clears his throat. "Have you eaten dinner?"
"It's only 3:15..." Luke answers.
"Oh.....yeah.............right, um......so I've been wanting to try that burger outdoor patio place over on 72 by the river, and I uh..." Reid digs around in the plastic shopping bag in front of him, pulling out a flyer. "...and I saw this at the book store." He puts the flyer in front of Luke. "They're having a few live acts there today, starting at 4:30, and so I was thinking of going over there for a burger and some beer...ya kknow...listen to some music? So if you're hungry and you want to go..........ya know, you're welcome to join me. If you want..........or not. No big deal if you don't, but it's nice out, and nurse what's-her-face told me that the food is good. So...anyway................I didn't eat lunch, so I'm going to head over there now, and if you want......anyway...." I move to clamp my invisible hand over his babbling mouth, but Luke just smiles. I hear Apollo laugh as I shake my head at this brilliant surgeon's romantic clumsiness.
"I could eat." Luke says. I can tell he's amused and maybe a little confused about the fluttery feeling in his chest.
"Yeah? Ok. Good. I'll drive."
"No...how 'bout I drive. I don't drink, so you can enjoy a few beers, and I'll be the DD. Plus, I have my grandmother's convertible. It's a great day to put the top down." Luke digs around in his pocket and pulls out the key, with a Mercedes symbol dangling from the keychain.
"Richie-fucking-Rich," Reid says as he rolls his eyes, but there's nothing but affection in his voice.
Luke grins. It's the first time the nickname hasn't made him bristle. "Doctor-fucking-asshole," Luke mimics (flirts) back. He chuckles, stands up, and looks down at his shorts. "I need to stop by home first to throw on a pair of jeans."
"Okay," Reid answers, standing. As they walk away, Reid bumps Luke's shoulder with his own and briefly brushes his fingertips along the inside of Luke's wrist.
Bold move, Dr. O.
"Nice work, my friend," Apollo whispers against my right ear.
I nod. "Thanks for the assist, A."