Disclaimer: I own nothing

Author Note: This was written for the nuke_anon 'fall/autumn' challenge and astonishingly I managed to achieve third place, which was pretty overwhelming, so many thanks to all those who read, commented, and voted. Special thanks to sweetiejelly who encouraged me muchly when I felt so nervous about the whole thing. You're a star. This fic is set post-finale.

(STILL) FALLING FOR YOU

Noah loved the fall. It looked so great through a camera lens - the different colors of falling leaves, the cold snap in the air, how the sky changed to deep jewel tones and flashes of fire, the glimmer of fading sunlight through frequent rainstorms, and clouds of breath forever crawling upwards to anoint people with misty halos. Well, that was the way it was supposed to be. Not so much in L.A.

"Fall turns you into a poet," commented Michael, teasing laughter bright in his eyes.

"I feel like you might be calling me pretentious."

"There's a very good chance of that."

But Michael agreed that what Noah had shot in what passed for the L.A. fall did look great on screen and that it was exactly what they needed for their current project. Noah liked how the scenes were playing against a fall backdrop, how it worked as a metaphor for what the characters were going through and...okay, maybe he did sound kind of pretentious.

Michael laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Seriously though, no jokes, this is really working. Pretentious or not, this season's definitely inspiring you."

Noah smiled a little, pleased at the praise. Having someone believe so genuinely in his work was a huge plus, he'd been lucky to meet and click so well with Michael and his wife Frida, friends of one of his film school professors who ran a small production company. They liked his student films and, when he wasn't working on those or dealing with all his other film school work; they got him involved in some of their projects. They'd become good friends too and like they'd done the year before, had invited him spend Thanksgiving with them. He'd taken them up on their kind offer the previous year and had enjoyed himself, but it just hadn't felt completely...right. He hadn't accepted this time around.

It wasn't the only Thanksgiving invite he'd refused.

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. A Thanksgiving in Oakdale, more specifically a Thanksgiving at the Snyder farm had been offered to him, exactly what he wanted, what he missed, and he'd turned it down. It wasn't like he'd lost touch with them – Lily and Holden called him regularly, Emma sent care packages, and Faith, Natalie, and Ethan bombarded him with updates on Facebook. And Luke, well, they tentatively talked on the phone now and then, and exchanged more frequent text messages...

Noah just didn't want to make things awkward, not for Luke, and not on Thanksgiving. So he wasn't going to go to the Snyder farm, no matter how often he thought about his favorite fall experiences there - huddling on the farmhouse porch with Luke and hot drinks, carving into the Snyder Hubbard squash, the overwhelming embrace of Snyder warmth and chatter, Emma's sweet potatoes, that feeling of having someone, a particular someone, who absolutely wanted him there for the holidays and wasn't afraid to say it. He was still waiting, still hoping, to have that again, but he wasn't going to push.

Michael and Frida had tried setting him up with friends of theirs and he'd even gone on a couple of dates, which had only proved to them and to himself that his heart really was still spoken for. Frida had hinted heavily that his story would make a great subject for a film; so far Noah had managed to persuade her otherwise. So far.

Sometimes he and Luke talked about Reid; Luke mentioned the progress on the hospital wing or talked about how Chris was doing with Reid's donated heart. Once, in the middle of the night, Luke had rung Noah, his voice wrecked and his words not making much sense. Eventually he'd gone silent, slipping into a fraught-sounding sleep, leaving Noah confused and worried and wondering whether he should call someone. The next time that they'd talked, Luke had shrugged the incident off as a nightmare, apparently he got them sometimes.

When Noah had asked what they were about, Luke had gone quiet for a moment before settling on the hollowly-playful "Lots of things."

According to Lily and Holden, Luke was doing well, he was 'making progress' and 'seemed to be healing' and had even seen a therapist for a while. He had started to write again. There'd been concerns that he'd reach for the bottle as he tried to deal with Reid's death, but so far he'd stayed dry. Noah wished that he could tell Luke more often how proud he was of him, he wished he could tell Luke a lot of things, but wouldn't that just make Luke's recovery slide back? Wouldn't it reopen old wounds? It hurt to think it, but maybe, maybe Noah was bad for Luke.

Noah's heart felt differently, it always had.

And anyway, more recently Luke had been too busy to talk. He'd sent Noah a hasty message the previous week to apologize for not picking up when Noah had called – so busy, sorry. That was it. Well, it was Thanksgiving, and at the Snyder farm, there was a lot of get done. It was a good sign, right? That Luke was apparently getting so involved with everything at home? It'd make Lily and Holden and everybody else happy. Noah was happy for him too.

He watched the most recent footage he'd shot, the dark spikes of plants and trees against a gorgeous twilight sky. An ache squeezed his heart. He thought about the sweet letter that he'd gotten from Emma, saying that she missed seeing him and that there was a waiting pumpkin pie with his name on it in Oakdale if he cared to come sample it. Faith had recently complained in a private Facebook message that God, her Mom was secretly dating someone, and couldn't Faith come visit Noah in L.A? Holden had called him only the previously weekend to make sure Noah knew that he was always welcome at the Snyder Farm, regardless of anything else.

"You're still family, Noah. That doesn't change."

Noah smiled and thumbed through the numbers on his phone. Luke was still high on his speed-dial list. But he was busy, and Noah should leave him alone, to have time with his family. He needed to give Luke what he needed, what he'd asked for, because not listening to each other hadn't worked out so well for them before.

The ache was still there, but he was also still smiling. The pictures on screen were still beautiful, that was L.A, but it wasn't home.

When looking at the raw fall footage recently, Frida had said softly. "My grandmother used to say that the world was dying in fall, giving us something beautiful to remember it by."

Michael had commented on pretentiousness again, but he'd kissed Frida's forehead afterward and Noah had liked the sentiment – a dying world, a last gift. But the way he saw it, when he really thought about Frida's words, was that there was something missing from them, because there was still something more to come after the fall – the bitter relentless winter, and then the determined green shoots of spring. He could imagine Luke saying that, he could imagine him writing it too. He liked thinking about Luke writing.

Noah's thoughts were broken up by a loud impatient knock at his door. It was probably his neighbor, Neil, who kept on forgetting his keys. He'd asked Noah to hold onto a spare for him. This would be the fifth time in the past fortnight that he'd needed it. Noah paused the footage and chuckled under his breath as he grabbed up the spare from a bowl on the coffee table. Neil was going to drive whoever he spent Thanksgiving with crazy.

But when Noah opened the door, it wasn't Neil standing there. Luke smiled at him instead.

"Hey, ready to go home?"

Noah blinked, maybe he'd been staring at the television screen for too long, but no, there was Luke, in jeans and a striped top under a warm jacket. His hair was a little longer and there was still a haunted look in his eyes, but he didn't look consumed by it anymore.

Noah didn't know what to say. He wanted to reach out and hug Luke, but was that what Luke wanted? Luke's smile gentled and he stepped into the apartment and into Noah's arms, pulling them close together. Noah hid a bewildered smile, no matter the reason, it was good to hold Luke again. Luke seemed to agree, humming something into Noah's shoulder and squeezing him tight.

He was the one to step back out of the embrace though. "I meant what I said; I came on my grandmother's jet."

Noah looked at him in disbelief. "Your grandmother sent you, to get me?"

Luke laughed and Noah couldn't stop looking at him. Luke was here, laughing in his apartment, and on Walsh business apparently. He looked really good, Noah wanted to step closer and...well, once he started touching Luke again, he probably wouldn't be able to stop. Maybe it was good thing that there was some space between them.

"There was a vote and you lost, you're coming home for a Snyder family Thanksgiving," Luke shook his head when Noah started to protest. "You really need to remember how much of your life is online for our viewing pleasure now, we know you're not going anywhere for the holidays. We...we all want to see you."

The emphasis was unmistakable, and there was a heartbreaking question hiding in Luke's expression, like maybe Noah wouldn't want to go back with him, like maybe Noah had gotten sick of waiting or wasn't interested anymore and had moved on. Something warm and hopeful unfurled inside of Noah and he chanced a step forward, settling a hand almost on top of Luke's. Luke was always so brave; Noah could only try to match that.

"You're not...I thought maybe you needed more time, time away from any painful reminders, while you're still healing..."

Luke smiled at him, warm and fond, and firmly interlinked their fingers. So brave. "No, I'm...I'm getting there. I'm sure my Mom's told you all about it, but the thing is, working through everything, I started to realize that what I really need isn't in Oakdale."

Noah swallowed, unable to look away from Luke, even now unable to verbally form what he really wanted to say. He tried for a smile, for anything. "There wasn't a vote on that too?"

"There didn't need to be."

Before Noah could even begin grappling with that, Luke leaned in and brushed his mouth against Noah's. It was so gentle and simple; it made Noah's lips tingle. He kissed back, just as gently, and reveled in how Luke smiled into the kiss, like somehow he'd heard the half-formed words rattling around inside Noah's head, the words that rarely exited his mouth.

They'd always managed with and without words.

The footage flickered on the television. The world was still dying, a lot of things were, but out of that, something new and green was growing, finally pushing up from under the surface. It had waited long enough.

-the end