Author: Summer [Indian Summer]

Title: What Matters

Disclaimer: If I owned the characters of Joan of Arcadia, would I be writing fan fiction?

Pairing: Luke/Grace

Summary: Grace reflects on her relationship with Luke as they walk home after the kiss.

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Taking off her leather jacket had been a big step for Grace. She'd worn it for years and had come to think of it as a defensive structure, repelling the insults thrown her way. She knew people thought it was a sign she was 'softening,' becoming more girly.

Grace didn't view it that way. It was like dropping a shield for the first time, becoming vulnerable yet more self-confident. And God knew self-confidence was something she lacked.

Sure, she could fight away the snobby girls who had nothing better to do than comment on her sexuality, or the nerdy boys who felt the need to insult her intelligence. She could stand strong when it came to defending her sexuality, her intelligence, her pride.

But underneath the jacket-clad, greasy haired, hardened image she put forth was a teenage girl. And like any teenage girl, she wasn't sure of herself.

She worried about stupid things, too. As much as she'd hate to admit it, she'd panicked the first time she saw a pimple on her forehead and she got embarrassed in front of cute guys. No, she didn't blush and forget how to form coherent sentences, but she'd certainly been thrown off her guard.

Lately she'd been thrown off her guard too often. She could no longer consider it simply an insignificant character flaw- it had started to affect her life. Like, she'd kissed Luke Girardi. Twice. The first time she'd recovered nicely, letting him think she was just making a political statement. Which she was, sort of. It just wasn't the sole reason she'd kissed him.

It hadn't been some lovey-dovey moment by anyone's standards. She hadn't fallen into his arms and felt her knees go weak, or overanalyzed the feel of his lips against hers. She'd been too angry to get romantic.

She didn't know why it affected her that way, to see Friedman talking to Luke, insulting her in front of him. But looking back, she realized she didn't have a good history with such confrontations. Even before the dance she'd reacted badly. In fact, getting caught up in her anger with Friedman had been the reason she'd been forced into the dance in the first place.

So, she could effectively write the first kiss off as a moment of anger, a pure political statement. She didn't have to think about the aftermath of the kiss, when she'd finally realized what she'd done- and realized she liked doing it. She didn't have to think of the strange pride that had filled up inside her as she pulled Luke to the dance floor and noticed Glynis' expression.

The second kiss? She couldn't write it off quite as easily. Immediately afterward, she'd tried to give herself an explanation, saying it was to get him to shut up, to get him to leave her alone. But the truth stood. She'd kissed Luke right after blowing up in his face, telling him she wasn't into him. They'd fallen into this silence that should've been more awkward for the moment, that should've been more tense. But instead she found her eyes searching his, her body moving closer to him.

It had been a long, weird day, and the kiss was just another symptom of the day. She'd tried that explanation, too. Maybe the planets were in some weird alignment, she'd thought, even though she didn't believe in that stuff.

So she'd come to the conclusion she'd kissed Luke because she wanted to. It wasn't an easy idea to grasp, because giving in to Luke meant she was vulnerable again.

And she didn't want to be vulnerable.
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The walk home had been awkward. She'd commanded Luke to go home, to get away from her. But he'd had that stupid, goofy little grin on his face and he'd tagged along behind her.

She'd tried to concentrate on the feel of her boots hitting the pavement, or the smell of the back alley. Anything other than Luke's stupid grin.

When it had started to rain, Grace hadn't been surprised. Of course it would rain. It was the only way to end this horrible, bizarre day. So she'd set her jaw determinedly and plunged onward through the rain, wishing the last mile to her house would disappear so she could slip inside and be rid of Luke.

"Grace," she could hear him calling behind her, half-jogging to catch up.

She walked faster, pretending she hadn't heard.

When she felt his hand on her arm, she'd turned around quickly, determined to ward him off, to make him go home. "What?" she said through clenched teeth, much louder than she'd meant to.

Luke jumped back as if he'd been bitten. "The rain's getting worse. Maybe we should find somewhere to wait it out."

He'd like that, huddling under some old awning with her, just the two of them. He'd have the time to interrogate her, ask her all the questions she didn't know the answers to. The questions she'd been asking herself. Grace glared, looking up at the dark sky. "We're only ten minutes from my house. Just keep walking, Geek."

There was a crackling overhead which lead immediately to a big bang. She looked over at Luke, who'd frozen at the noise. "What? Afraid of a little thunder?" she asked harshly, not in the mood to deal with him.

"Grace…"

There was a flash of lightning and Luke jumped. "What? You know, I don't feel like standing here if there's a storm moved in. Don't you know how to walk?"

Luke nodded, falling into step next to her. He was walking closely, and it took everything Grace had in her not to move away. It was a battle of the wills, and Grace Polk was not about to lose. "What are we?" she heard him ask.

His arm brushed against hers and Grace tried to ignore it. "Nothing. You're- you're my friend's little brother."

"Grace…"

She hated the way he said her name, so knowing and almost pitying. "Keep walking," she muttered.
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When they reached her house she realized what she'd been trying to ignore. Luke couldn't walk home in this. Her father wouldn't let him. She walked toward her door in silence and Luke followed.

"Grace."

He said her name so softly she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. "What?"

Luke had stopped walking, so they were standing in the middle of her lawn, just fifteen feet from shelter, as the rain poured down in sheets. Luke met her gaze, and there was something in his eyes she couldn't look away from.

What it was was harder to decipher. There was so much emotion there- regret, pity, sadness, understanding, even hope. And… love? She couldn't be sure if she was reading it right, but her instincts told her she was. She reflected on what he'd said earlier, about love being irrational. Her own eyes clouded over as she looked at him, willing herself not to be sucked in. "What?" she repeated, more softly.

She felt Luke's hands take hers, his fingers threading through her own. She willed herself to pull away, but it was like the impulse didn't reach her fingers. Instead, she stepped closer to him, the rain pelting down on her and her hair soaking, hanging in strands in front of her eyes.

She stared at him as he raised his hand and pushed the hair out of her face, his eyes searching hers. "What are we?" he asked quietly, his hand still on her cheek.

"Luke…" The word slipped out, unbidden, and Luke's other arm tightened around her, pulling her closer to him. He understood. He understood how saying his name was like taking her jacket off, letting down her defenses. He understood how hard this was for her, how-

As his lips met hers, her mind stopped and she snaked her arm over his shoulder, her hand on the back of his head, adding urgency to the kiss.

Because rational thought didn't matter. What did matter, as they stood kissing in the rain, as thunder crashed and lightning struck around them, was that she was Grace and he was Luke. And they were together.
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