The groceries hit the hardwood floor, the sound of eggs cracking harsh against the silence of the room. Luke took three steps and was instantly at the side of the table, pulling a devastated-looking Noah from his chair into his arms.

"Noah, Noah baby, what's wrong?" Luke murmured, trying desperately to understand what could have turned Noah into this shaking, trembling mess in the time that it took to go to the local grocery store for eggs and milk. "Talk to me, love. What's going on?"

Noah didn't answer, choosing to clutch Luke to him instead and try to make the shaking stop, make it stop for a moment so he could just think, think and not feel and just forget and –

Noah's thoughts were abruptly cut off as Luke pressed his lips to his hair, holding him there, and Noah found that he couldn't think, just feel, and that knowledge caused words to flow out of him.

"I shot a man, Luke – shot a man. And you know what the worst part is? I don't regret it, not for a second. Because… because," Noah took a deep breath, trying to control the words that were pouring out of him. "Because if shooting him meant that you would be safe, I'd do it. Hell, I would've killed him to keep you safe. How does that make me better than my father?"

Several expressions flitted across Luke's face – shock, tenderness, anger, sadness, love – before he wordlessly gathered Noah up in his arms.

Luke sat there for what felt like minutes but could have been hours, stroking Noah's back and feeling Noah's body fight his sorrow, trying to prevent Luke from seeing him so helpless, so vulnerable. Unintelligible murmurs rose out of Luke's throat in his desperate attempt to soothe Noah, to prove to him that he wasn't the same man as the Colonel – to show him that he was the furthest thing from it.

When Noah had finally gotten a tentative grip on his emotions, Luke gently removed Noah's face from his neck so he could look him in the eyes.

"You, Noah Mayer, are one of the finest men I have ever met. You are not your father. You are everything your father wasn't, and that's why I love you. I love you Noah, oh god, I love you." With this declaration, Noah's eyes began to fill up with tears once again. Luke pressed on, knowing that this was what Noah needed to hear.

"I love you so much it hurts, Noah –when I see you, my heart feels like its swelling until it's just going to burst right out of my chest, and I wouldn't stop that feeling for the world. Sometimes, I just want to hold you in my arms and make sure that you know exactly how much you mean to me, except there are no words to describe how completely in love with you I am. That's how I know that you could never be your father, Noah – because your father wasn't capable of creating, or sharing love this pure." With those words, Luke leaned in and gently, oh so gently, kissed Noah.

Noah returned the kiss just as softly, before moaning and deepening it. His hands roamed along Luke's back, and Luke understood that tonight, Noah needed more than words – he needed physical proof that Luke loved him, and that the Colonel couldn't touch them or their love for one another.

Luke opened his mouth to the assault of Noah's tongue, allowing himself to be vulnerable– to show Noah that he trusted him completely. Despite the passion of the kiss, and the sensuous slide of tongue on tongue, it didn't loose its purpose – to show each other how much they were loved.

Regretfully, Luke broke the kiss and steeled his resolve so that Noah's whimpers for more wouldn't affect him. Grabbing his hand, Luke led Noah to his bedroom, walking backwards and never once breaking eye contact. In the back of his mind, he thanked whatever higher deity was out there for keeping the farm miraculously empty, at least for the time being.

After what felt like hours of walking, they finally made it to Luke's bedroom. Noah stood stock still in the middle of the room, silently watching Luke as he kicked off his shoes and went to lock the door. The second the lock latched shut with a resounding click, Noah came to life. He bounded across the room, grabbing Luke and pulling him flush against his body. Luke reacted immediately, cupping his hands around Noah's face and letting Noah do whatever he needed; whatever was necessary to begin to chip away at his repressed self-loathing.

For a long, endless moment, Noah stared into Luke's eyes, looking for something… approval, love, acceptance? Luke wasn't quite sure – all he could do was hold Noah's stare, and hope that Noah could read the love that was shining from his eyes. Finding whatever it was that he was looking for, Noah crashed his mouth down onto Luke's.

The kiss was a tangle of lips and tongue and teeth; it was hard and strong and so damn good that it made Luke want to cry from the backwards perfection of it all. All of these thoughts flitted through Luke's mind before Noah's hand reached under his shirt, caressing both skin and muscle – causing Luke's mind to loose capability of processing rational thought.

Luke felt the hands retreat from under his shirt, and barely recognized the whimper that came from his throat. The hands didn't disappear for long, though; Luke felt them on the end of his shirt, pulling upwards to reveal his skin. As soon as the blue-and-white striped shirt was off of Luke, Noah started to frantically un-do the buttons of his own shirt. Three buttons down, Noah's impatience got the better of him and he simply ripped the shirt off of himself, ignoring the pings of buttons landing everywhere throughout the room.

Noah walked backwards, forcing Luke to move with him until his calves hit the edge of a bed, and they both fell onto it. As Noah sent his mouth crashing down onto Luke's yet again, Luke felt the franticness of Noah's actions pick up yet again, and felt Noah working himself into a frenzy.

When Luke felt hands at the zipper of his jeans, scrabbling to pull it down, he recognized the situation for what it was – Noah, trying desperately to eradicate the memories of his childhood, and of his father. Realizing this, he carded his fingers through Noah's hair, kissing him back passionately and only stopping to murmur "I love you" into Noah's ear.

That night wasn't about Luke and Noah, the couple – it was about Noah needing Luke, and Luke giving him everything he had to offer. It wasn't about making love, or having sex, or even fucking like rabbits; it was about giving Noah a reprieve from the memories that threatened to suffocate him - if only for a short while. When Noah's nail dug into Luke's back as he came, Luke barely registered the pain of the cuts. Instead, his entire being was focused on the gorgeous, perfect and yet oh-so messed up man that was pinned beneath him.

Noah rolled over and collapsed onto Luke, his body shaking once again with repressed, tearless sobs as he buried his head into the space between Luke's arm and shoulder. Luke protectively wrapped his arms and legs around Noah, trying his damnest to show Noah the love that was pounding in chest, in sync with his heart.

Luke never really did find out what set Noah off. Maybe it was the "I love you", or maybe it was one too many gentle caresses to Noah's body. What caused it didn't matter though. All that mattered was Noah letting go. Luke felt it the moment it happened – Noah's body stiffened briefly in his arms, before collapsing into his embrace. Luke simply clutched him closer, stroking Noah's back and cursing Winston-fucking-Mayer for every tear that splashed onto his neck, and for every shake that ravaged Noah's body.

Long minutes later, Noah raised his head, tears gone but their evidence remaining with bloodshot eyes, a runny nose, and tear-streaked cheeks. Luke felt his heart shatter just a little bit more in pain for the man that lay on top of him, and swore then and there that nothing – nothing – would ever hurt Noah this badly again.

Luke was startled out of his thoughts when Noah opened his mouth, presumably to talk. Knowing Noah, and knowing that his crying jag would have left him emotionally spent, Luke realized that his silly, silly lover was most likely going to apologize for crying. As if crying has ever been something to apologize for.

Luke placed his finger on Noah's lips, effectively cutting off whatever Noah had been about to say. Leaning over, he placed a sweet kiss on Noah's lips, conveying everything that he, the writer, didn't have the words to say. When he pulled back and looked into Noah's eyes, positively burning with love, he knew that his message had been understood. With that, Luke reached over, grabbed a wet wipe from his bedside table, and gently wiped both Noah and himself down.

Finishing, he simply tossed the toilette onto the floor beside the bed, laid his head on Noah's chest, and closed his eyes, letting sleep overtake him. Luke knew that they would have to talk in the morning, but right then, in that moment, hearing Noah's steady heartbeat was all he needed to loose consciousness.