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apocalypsosI decided I'm kind of just going to write these in little snippets, in no particular order, whenever they come to me. Which I guess means that I'm just going to have to end up making a master list of stories in the right order ... you know, when I finish more than one. ;) (What I really need to do is make a master list of all my damn fic, but that went sooo well the last time. *sigh* I am so horribly lazy.)
Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight
As The World Turns, Luke/Noah, PG
AU futurefic, in which Luke never regains the use of his legs, and the two of them are married with kids and pets and bunches of movies made, and it's all very schmoopy when it's not filled with the usual soap opera woes. :)
*
When Violet comes back to them Noah can't put her down. It's not like she'll run away, for crying out loud – that's not really a big problem with a six-month-old – but the last time they'd put her down and walked away she hadn't been there when they'd come back.
Noah carts her around for days, her small warm body curling into his chest. Her little fists clutch at his T-shirt as Noah paces back and forth while they hash out of the details of their next movie in their cluttered office. Luke wouldn't mind a chance to hold Violet but can't bring himself to argue, not with another baby to take care of and that hint of cold fear that haunts Noah's eyes when she's not in the room with him, when he can't always see her.
Luke had tried to lighten the mood, had made some crack about how being kidnapped as an infant was practically a rite of passage in his family.
Noah had stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted three heads and two extra arms.
For all intents and purposes Violet is his more than Noah's, his flesh and blood, Maddie's eyes and his playful smile. But she just clicks with Noah, fits into the lines of his chest and the curve of his neck like she was built to snuggle against him from day one. He wonders if this is how Noah felt for the past six months, watching Luke wheel around the house with Daisy in his lap, the baby cooing happily as she batted at his shoulders. It wasn't that he didn't love the girls differently, less or more or not at all, it was just ...
It was just Noah. Holding their baby. Holding his baby.
Luke didn't ... he couldn't even explain it. Couldn't explain what it did to him.
A week after they get Violet back, the nanny gets her first day off since Violet's return and the two of them spend the entire day squeezing in work on the movie in between taking care of two little girls who desperately want attention. Luke puts Daisy to bed in an exhausted fugue, yawning as he rolls back to their bedroom from the nursery and positive that if his legs already didn't have feeling in them an entire day's worth of Daisy's wriggling little body pressing down on them would have them tingling and numb with pins and needles.
He rolls into the doorway of their bedroom, stops almost immediately.
Noah lies on the bed, script notes scattered around him and pajama bottoms low on his hips, Bringing Up Baby playing on the television with the volume muted and Violet fast asleep on his bare chest as if she belongs there. His fingertips trace soft gentle lines up and down her back, her rounded bottom sticking up and moving gently with every breath she takes, Noah's eyes remain shut, a small smile crossing his face, but they open ever so slightly at the sound of Luke's wheels on the hardwood.
“Hey,” Luke says.
“Hey yourself,” Noah whispers.
Violet grunts in her sleep, wiggles her butt in the air and rolls her face away from Noah's neck.
“You wake her up,” Noah says quietly, “and I'll roll you into the pool.”
Luke sighs as he watches Noah's fingers trail up and down her back, the gentle repetitive movement the only thing that puts her to sleep these days. He rolls over to his side of the bed and puts aside scattered papers on the nightstand as quietly as he can manage. Noah doesn't look like he's letting go of the baby anytime soon, his legs stretched out and his pillows just so. He's comfortable, Luke notices, all settled in.
“Daisy'll get jealous,” is all he says.
Noah's gaze connects with his over Violet's light brown curls. “Luke,” he says, and his voice breaks just so, just right. His hand stops tracing patterns on Violet's back, palm down and fingers spreading on her back. “I just. She was gone. We thought she was dead and she wasn't and --”
I've been there before.
“I know.” Luke leans forward in his chair, reaches out and strokes his fingers over the curve of her chubby cheek. He flashes Noah a teasing grin. “You know, if you want to keep holding her all the time, it's going to put a real crimp in our sex life.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Noah says, but he slowly moves into a sitting position, holding Violet close.
Luke holds out his hands to take Violet and for a split second Noah hesitates, just long enough to sting. Luke restrains himself from clenching his teeth, forces a smile and waves his hands in a “gimme” gesture. “I promise not to give her away to the circus on the way to the nursery,” he says.
Noah frowns. “See, now, that? That wasn't funny.”
“It was a little funny,” Luke says, in that tone of voice that usually coaxes a smile out of Noah. He tilts his head, stretches his arms out just a little bit more, and Noah exhales heavily in defeat.
Noah shifts Violet in his arms, pressing his face into her hair and taking her scent in deep, baby shampoo and talcum powder. Luke's breath hitches as Noah brushes a soft kiss across her forehead, cradles her in his arms. And it's nothing and everything like when Noah holds Daisy, and something warm and sweet curls in Luke's belly, teases and flickers.
He passes Violet over, Luke's hands scooping her into his arms just as she starts to fuss. She makes the warning whine, the sound they've already discovered precedes a full-blown crying fit, but as soon as Luke settles her in his lap and turns his wheels towards the doorway she looks around in confusion before letting her eyes shut once again.
After settling her into the empty crib in the nursery – Daisy's been long gone into dreamland in the other crib, and Luke's positive he'll find her wide awake in the morning, making nonsense noises that are trying desperately to be words and attempting to get Violet's attention – Luke heads back into the bedroom to find the TV off, the lights out, and Noah stretched out on the bed, a hand over his eyes.
“She's asleep,” Luke says, rolling his wheelchair over to his side of the bed.
Noah makes a low noise as Luke gets into bed, years of practice turning it into a smooth well-honed movement. He pushes himself up to the pillows, adjusts them just so behind his back, and glances over at Noah with a sigh.
“Are we not speaking now?”
Noah chuckles at that, and the next thing Luke knows Noah is hauling him over, pulling him close. He drags his hand over Luke's hair, leans close to nip at Luke's jaw. Luke just smiles and snuggles closer, presses his hand to Noah's warm chest.
“Daisy will get jealous?” Noah asks, tugging at Luke's shirt.
Luke's lips curl in an easy smirk as he rolls his eyes, mutters, “Shut up,” and slips his hand past the waistband of Noah's pants.
*
Hey, you can't say I didn't warn you it was schmoopy. Heh.
And now I have to go and write something else. Uh. *whistles innocently*
Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight
As The World Turns, Luke/Noah, PG
AU futurefic, in which Luke never regains the use of his legs, and the two of them are married with kids and pets and bunches of movies made, and it's all very schmoopy when it's not filled with the usual soap opera woes. :)
*
When Violet comes back to them Noah can't put her down. It's not like she'll run away, for crying out loud – that's not really a big problem with a six-month-old – but the last time they'd put her down and walked away she hadn't been there when they'd come back.
Noah carts her around for days, her small warm body curling into his chest. Her little fists clutch at his T-shirt as Noah paces back and forth while they hash out of the details of their next movie in their cluttered office. Luke wouldn't mind a chance to hold Violet but can't bring himself to argue, not with another baby to take care of and that hint of cold fear that haunts Noah's eyes when she's not in the room with him, when he can't always see her.
Luke had tried to lighten the mood, had made some crack about how being kidnapped as an infant was practically a rite of passage in his family.
Noah had stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted three heads and two extra arms.
For all intents and purposes Violet is his more than Noah's, his flesh and blood, Maddie's eyes and his playful smile. But she just clicks with Noah, fits into the lines of his chest and the curve of his neck like she was built to snuggle against him from day one. He wonders if this is how Noah felt for the past six months, watching Luke wheel around the house with Daisy in his lap, the baby cooing happily as she batted at his shoulders. It wasn't that he didn't love the girls differently, less or more or not at all, it was just ...
It was just Noah. Holding their baby. Holding his baby.
Luke didn't ... he couldn't even explain it. Couldn't explain what it did to him.
A week after they get Violet back, the nanny gets her first day off since Violet's return and the two of them spend the entire day squeezing in work on the movie in between taking care of two little girls who desperately want attention. Luke puts Daisy to bed in an exhausted fugue, yawning as he rolls back to their bedroom from the nursery and positive that if his legs already didn't have feeling in them an entire day's worth of Daisy's wriggling little body pressing down on them would have them tingling and numb with pins and needles.
He rolls into the doorway of their bedroom, stops almost immediately.
Noah lies on the bed, script notes scattered around him and pajama bottoms low on his hips, Bringing Up Baby playing on the television with the volume muted and Violet fast asleep on his bare chest as if she belongs there. His fingertips trace soft gentle lines up and down her back, her rounded bottom sticking up and moving gently with every breath she takes, Noah's eyes remain shut, a small smile crossing his face, but they open ever so slightly at the sound of Luke's wheels on the hardwood.
“Hey,” Luke says.
“Hey yourself,” Noah whispers.
Violet grunts in her sleep, wiggles her butt in the air and rolls her face away from Noah's neck.
“You wake her up,” Noah says quietly, “and I'll roll you into the pool.”
Luke sighs as he watches Noah's fingers trail up and down her back, the gentle repetitive movement the only thing that puts her to sleep these days. He rolls over to his side of the bed and puts aside scattered papers on the nightstand as quietly as he can manage. Noah doesn't look like he's letting go of the baby anytime soon, his legs stretched out and his pillows just so. He's comfortable, Luke notices, all settled in.
“Daisy'll get jealous,” is all he says.
Noah's gaze connects with his over Violet's light brown curls. “Luke,” he says, and his voice breaks just so, just right. His hand stops tracing patterns on Violet's back, palm down and fingers spreading on her back. “I just. She was gone. We thought she was dead and she wasn't and --”
I've been there before.
“I know.” Luke leans forward in his chair, reaches out and strokes his fingers over the curve of her chubby cheek. He flashes Noah a teasing grin. “You know, if you want to keep holding her all the time, it's going to put a real crimp in our sex life.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Noah says, but he slowly moves into a sitting position, holding Violet close.
Luke holds out his hands to take Violet and for a split second Noah hesitates, just long enough to sting. Luke restrains himself from clenching his teeth, forces a smile and waves his hands in a “gimme” gesture. “I promise not to give her away to the circus on the way to the nursery,” he says.
Noah frowns. “See, now, that? That wasn't funny.”
“It was a little funny,” Luke says, in that tone of voice that usually coaxes a smile out of Noah. He tilts his head, stretches his arms out just a little bit more, and Noah exhales heavily in defeat.
Noah shifts Violet in his arms, pressing his face into her hair and taking her scent in deep, baby shampoo and talcum powder. Luke's breath hitches as Noah brushes a soft kiss across her forehead, cradles her in his arms. And it's nothing and everything like when Noah holds Daisy, and something warm and sweet curls in Luke's belly, teases and flickers.
He passes Violet over, Luke's hands scooping her into his arms just as she starts to fuss. She makes the warning whine, the sound they've already discovered precedes a full-blown crying fit, but as soon as Luke settles her in his lap and turns his wheels towards the doorway she looks around in confusion before letting her eyes shut once again.
After settling her into the empty crib in the nursery – Daisy's been long gone into dreamland in the other crib, and Luke's positive he'll find her wide awake in the morning, making nonsense noises that are trying desperately to be words and attempting to get Violet's attention – Luke heads back into the bedroom to find the TV off, the lights out, and Noah stretched out on the bed, a hand over his eyes.
“She's asleep,” Luke says, rolling his wheelchair over to his side of the bed.
Noah makes a low noise as Luke gets into bed, years of practice turning it into a smooth well-honed movement. He pushes himself up to the pillows, adjusts them just so behind his back, and glances over at Noah with a sigh.
“Are we not speaking now?”
Noah chuckles at that, and the next thing Luke knows Noah is hauling him over, pulling him close. He drags his hand over Luke's hair, leans close to nip at Luke's jaw. Luke just smiles and snuggles closer, presses his hand to Noah's warm chest.
“Daisy will get jealous?” Noah asks, tugging at Luke's shirt.
Luke's lips curl in an easy smirk as he rolls his eyes, mutters, “Shut up,” and slips his hand past the waistband of Noah's pants.
*
Hey, you can't say I didn't warn you it was schmoopy. Heh.
And now I have to go and write something else. Uh. *whistles innocently*
