Post by maggie on Jun 13, 2007 16:00:53 GMT 10
It's here! Been slaving and arguing and fretting over this since...what, March? Anyhow, the long-pondered sequel to "Coffee Talk" (read it first, url: luby.proboards52.com/index.cgi?board=fanficluby&action=display&thread=1169157959 ) is here and ready for chapter after chapter of Luby goodness.
Dedicated to my loyal and incredibly patient beta-reader, Bel Vezer, without whom I would've run myself into a ditch by now.
Chapter 1: Greensleeves
“Luka.” The word crept from her mouth to his ear; warm breaths in the autumn chill seeping in through the window. He didn’t stir, only continued to slumber under her studious gaze as he had been for the past twenty minutes. Two fingers made languid circles on his bare chest. “Luka.”
An undistinguishable mumble of Croatian escaped his lips as he slowly blinked in the darkness, dragging himself from the depths of sleep. Her body, curled into his arms, covered him like a blanket that didn’t quite fit. “Abby.” Conscious thoughts were not viable at the moment, only a murmured recognition of the voice. A few moments passed before he could manage a complete sentence. “Why are you awake?”
She laughed softly. “You were talking in your sleep. And smiling.” Her soft hair tickled his neck as she burrowed in closer to him, drawing the quilt up around them.
“What was I saying?” His words were slow, almost as if he was drunk. Sleep still had its grip.
“I don’t know. It was Croatian.” Her fingers wove through his hair, gently raking at his scalp to wake him. “What were you dreaming about?”
The answer brought an inadvertent grin to his face, eyes crinkling at the recollection. “You.”
“Me?”
He slid one arm around her slim waist; easily pulling her towards him so she lay on top of him, form matching form. “You. And…” His brow furrowed, trying to retrieve the fading images. “And you were laughing.”
Her head rested on his shoulder, eyes cast upwards to his face, intrigued. “At what?”
“I don’t remember. I just remember you looked beautiful.” He was slowly becoming more awake, the pleasant recollection of his dream mixed with the tangible source laying in his arms more than sufficient incentive. “It was sunny and you were lying on the beach, just laughing, and…” He trailed off, face becoming suddenly somber.
A soft giggle slid from her lips as she knitted her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her. “And?”
The hesitation was awkward, distant. He shifted under her. “And you were pregnant.”
Moist exhalations on his chest passed a few moments as he waited for the unknown, cursing himself for not lying. They hadn’t spoken of her miscarriage in months, nor had he brought up her past comments. The proverbial ball was in her court, her own decision to make, he knew. He reminded himself of that more often than he’d have liked. The soft thudding of her heart, pressed to his own chest, echoed in the silence. “You don’t have to say it like it’s a curse, Luka.” She slithered up to eye level, expression barely readable in the darkness, but a definite glint in her eye. Her voice was low, calm. “It’ll never completely stop hurting, but…I’m moving on. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen, or that it doesn’t sting.”
He was momentarily awed by the sagacity of her words. The simple eloquence, coming from someone formerly so dysfunctional when it came to emotions. A hand cupped her cheek; thumb sliding from cheekbone to lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Her head returned to rest on his shoulder, nudging closer into his arms. “You know…I’ve been thinking.” She wriggled against him again, attempting to find a comfortable spot. The proximity factor was something she’d never craved before, not with Richard, nor Carter, nor anyone else. She’d always been independent in mind, heart, soul, and skin. Now, though, she felt compelled…drawn to his body, as though she needed to bury herself in his skin, mold her form to his. Mind, soul, heart, and skin now suddenly entangled with his. He chuckled softly as she nudged him inadvertently in her attempts, all elbows and knees and pokes as she fitted herself into his embrace, body warm on his. Even her nose and ears pressed into him as she settled, removing any question of space between them. She cleared her throat. “Maybe…maybe it’s time to think about that.”
He couldn’t be sure, tossed out a baiting question just in case. “Think about what?”
“Trying. To…you know.” Two in the morning had not been the moment she’d planned on bringing the particular subject up, but it seemed appropriate that he’d mention his dream after the notion had been swimming around her mind for the past few weeks. His thumb drew her focus up to his face; eyebrows arched in that way he had of making her feel oddly giddy. She let out a soft sigh. “To have a baby.”
“A baby.” He repeated her words as he had that day many months ago, awestruck as though he’d never considered the prospect until now. Her fingers laced through his, awaiting a response, as if there was any possible question to the matter. He jostled her gently to bring her gaze to his, two sets of eyes glistening, lips twitching. A long index finger pushed a strand of mussed hair from her forehead. “I could paint the study.”
The simplicity of the statement overwhelmed her as she once again found herself kneading into him, trying to achieve an impossible closeness. Face buried in his neck, she replied, a whisper in the night. “Green. Let’s paint it green.”
“Green?” The words were silk on her skin as another recollection took hold…the Christmas prior, a snowglobe, a series of mistakes he’d been too drunk to realize. And yet it had all worked out, somehow, to bring them here, to this moment, to discuss green walls of nursery. For their child.
Dedicated to my loyal and incredibly patient beta-reader, Bel Vezer, without whom I would've run myself into a ditch by now.
Chapter 1: Greensleeves
“Luka.” The word crept from her mouth to his ear; warm breaths in the autumn chill seeping in through the window. He didn’t stir, only continued to slumber under her studious gaze as he had been for the past twenty minutes. Two fingers made languid circles on his bare chest. “Luka.”
An undistinguishable mumble of Croatian escaped his lips as he slowly blinked in the darkness, dragging himself from the depths of sleep. Her body, curled into his arms, covered him like a blanket that didn’t quite fit. “Abby.” Conscious thoughts were not viable at the moment, only a murmured recognition of the voice. A few moments passed before he could manage a complete sentence. “Why are you awake?”
She laughed softly. “You were talking in your sleep. And smiling.” Her soft hair tickled his neck as she burrowed in closer to him, drawing the quilt up around them.
“What was I saying?” His words were slow, almost as if he was drunk. Sleep still had its grip.
“I don’t know. It was Croatian.” Her fingers wove through his hair, gently raking at his scalp to wake him. “What were you dreaming about?”
The answer brought an inadvertent grin to his face, eyes crinkling at the recollection. “You.”
“Me?”
He slid one arm around her slim waist; easily pulling her towards him so she lay on top of him, form matching form. “You. And…” His brow furrowed, trying to retrieve the fading images. “And you were laughing.”
Her head rested on his shoulder, eyes cast upwards to his face, intrigued. “At what?”
“I don’t remember. I just remember you looked beautiful.” He was slowly becoming more awake, the pleasant recollection of his dream mixed with the tangible source laying in his arms more than sufficient incentive. “It was sunny and you were lying on the beach, just laughing, and…” He trailed off, face becoming suddenly somber.
A soft giggle slid from her lips as she knitted her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her. “And?”
The hesitation was awkward, distant. He shifted under her. “And you were pregnant.”
Moist exhalations on his chest passed a few moments as he waited for the unknown, cursing himself for not lying. They hadn’t spoken of her miscarriage in months, nor had he brought up her past comments. The proverbial ball was in her court, her own decision to make, he knew. He reminded himself of that more often than he’d have liked. The soft thudding of her heart, pressed to his own chest, echoed in the silence. “You don’t have to say it like it’s a curse, Luka.” She slithered up to eye level, expression barely readable in the darkness, but a definite glint in her eye. Her voice was low, calm. “It’ll never completely stop hurting, but…I’m moving on. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen, or that it doesn’t sting.”
He was momentarily awed by the sagacity of her words. The simple eloquence, coming from someone formerly so dysfunctional when it came to emotions. A hand cupped her cheek; thumb sliding from cheekbone to lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Her head returned to rest on his shoulder, nudging closer into his arms. “You know…I’ve been thinking.” She wriggled against him again, attempting to find a comfortable spot. The proximity factor was something she’d never craved before, not with Richard, nor Carter, nor anyone else. She’d always been independent in mind, heart, soul, and skin. Now, though, she felt compelled…drawn to his body, as though she needed to bury herself in his skin, mold her form to his. Mind, soul, heart, and skin now suddenly entangled with his. He chuckled softly as she nudged him inadvertently in her attempts, all elbows and knees and pokes as she fitted herself into his embrace, body warm on his. Even her nose and ears pressed into him as she settled, removing any question of space between them. She cleared her throat. “Maybe…maybe it’s time to think about that.”
He couldn’t be sure, tossed out a baiting question just in case. “Think about what?”
“Trying. To…you know.” Two in the morning had not been the moment she’d planned on bringing the particular subject up, but it seemed appropriate that he’d mention his dream after the notion had been swimming around her mind for the past few weeks. His thumb drew her focus up to his face; eyebrows arched in that way he had of making her feel oddly giddy. She let out a soft sigh. “To have a baby.”
“A baby.” He repeated her words as he had that day many months ago, awestruck as though he’d never considered the prospect until now. Her fingers laced through his, awaiting a response, as if there was any possible question to the matter. He jostled her gently to bring her gaze to his, two sets of eyes glistening, lips twitching. A long index finger pushed a strand of mussed hair from her forehead. “I could paint the study.”
The simplicity of the statement overwhelmed her as she once again found herself kneading into him, trying to achieve an impossible closeness. Face buried in his neck, she replied, a whisper in the night. “Green. Let’s paint it green.”
“Green?” The words were silk on her skin as another recollection took hold…the Christmas prior, a snowglobe, a series of mistakes he’d been too drunk to realize. And yet it had all worked out, somehow, to bring them here, to this moment, to discuss green walls of nursery. For their child.