lure007 (lure007) wrote in lure_atwt,

Palm, Meet Face.

Title: Palm, Meet Face.
Author: lure007
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Walk a day in Luke Snyder's shoes.
Disclaimer: No one but Luke and Reid own each other. As for the rest of Oakdale, eh.
A/N: One-shot which can be seen as a companion piece to Face, Meet Palm. Unbeta'd. Feedback and sandwiches are one and the same. :D

Dedicated to the ever enthusiastic lemondrop34 who asked for a Luke version of the *face-palm* day. Enjoy!



Enter Java.
Wonder what it is about Noah that seems so inherently different this morning.
Overhear a customer at the front of the coffee queue complementing the "humble barista" on his new glasses.
Gawk at the obvious resolution to a past squinty problem.


Drop off freshly baked ham and cheese rolls at Reid’s office.
On your way past the Nurses’ Station, notice a group of people – staff and patients alike – gathered around one of the hospital’s vending machines.
Wander closer to the area to find, in the middle of the crowd, a very disgruntled Casey Hughes with his left arm stuck up the bottom compartment of the snack dispensing unit.


Receive a phone call from an agitated Lily who forgot Natalie at the supermarket – a stone’s throw away from your office – in the rush to get to her hair appointment.


Find an unflustered Natalie chatting away excitedly to a customer service representative by a counter near the grocery store entrance.
Pick up some items for dinner, along with a packet of Reid’s favourite tortilla chips.
Make your way to the checkout queue.
Pat Natalie’s head fondly as she places a cash register divider on the belt to keep your things from getting mixed up with other customers’.
Watch (dumbfounded) as the lady at the till scans all your items, picks up the divider, looks it all over for the bar code, and not finding it asks, “Do you know how much this is?”


Meet Faith for a late lunch at Al’s.
Lend a sympathetic ear to her teenage woes and boy troubles.
As the conversation turns to your parents, lean over the table to read a text exchange from the evening before the Snyder girl is particularly grumpy about:



Enter the hospital building.
Spot Reid down the hall around the same time he sees you.
Rub a hand across your stomach in an attempt to still the butterflies as your eyes connect and hold.
Meet him halfway down the practically empty corridor, grab his hand and lead him to an out of bounds on-call room on the same floor which is due for renovation.
Push Reid hard against the closed door as the kissing and groping and moaning intensifies.
Freeze at the sound of a soft gasp that doesn’t belong to either one of you.
“Luke! Dr. Oliver!” It’s John Dixon, visibly engaged in some heavy petting of his own with your grandmother on the other side of the room.


On the ride home, get stuck in some rather heavy traffic for the time of the day.
Look over to the passenger seat as highly amusing, though hardly unexpected, chomping sounds emanate from Reid as he tears into the bag of lime tortilla chips you purchased earlier.
Hear on the radio station that the narrow street you are currently on has been sealed off until further notice.
Reason for the hold up?
A local man, which preliminary reports identify as Christopher Hughes, was so engrossed in Facebook on his smart phone that he fell into a clearly marked manhole – plummeting about 20 feet down into a sewer – and is now awaiting the rescue team’s arrival.


Look forward to a nice, quiet evening with your doctor.
Shiver when his cool hands find their way under your shirt as you finish rinsing the dishes. Hum, turn around and lean into his touch, your lips melding.
Feel an insistent vibration down Reid’s left side a couple of minutes later.
Beeper. Hospital. 911.
Of course it is.


Log off and set your laptop aside.
Flip through the TV channels rather miserably.
Consider calling it a night before deciding to have some Ben & Jerry’s for company.
Lug out the chocolate swirl frozen goodness only to find the carton unapologetically empty – an infuriating habit of Reid’s (more often than not with the milk) which, admittedly, gets you all riled up before peace generally breaks out right there on the kitchen floor.
Well, when Reid's around, that is.


Grab a low-fat yoghurt from the fridge shelf instead.
Plop back down on the living-room couch just as the Bridget Jones's Diary – All by Myself sequence comes blasting through the television speakers.
Life sucks.

Tags: !author|artist: lure007, fan fiction, rating: pg-13
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