TITLE: No Perfect Day

AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh

RATING: PG-13/R-ish (NC-17? Beats me)

KEYWORDS: KW/LKo romance; angst; sexual situations (including a consensual loving heterosexual encounter between two adults)

LAST EPISODE SEEN: "The Greatest of Gifts"

TIMELINE: "Match Made in Heaven" and a bit afterwards

CROATIAN: Zhaba = "frog"; shto = "what"; "nedosta" = "not enough"

DISCLAIMER: "ER" and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No infringement of their copyright is intended. This story was written for the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and may be downloaded for your own pleasure.

SUMMARY/SPOILERS: Kerry's at home, twiddling her thumbs, and Luka's at work, trying to keep from *breaking* Romano's thumbs. Spoilers for "Match Made in Heaven" (sort of), and - very, very vaguely - for Season 7.

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Relative Safety; Off to a Rocky Start; Troubled Water; Comin' Home; Something in the Way; Heart of the Family; The Croatian Patient; It's No Picnic, I Tell Ya; Out of Control; Fool for Your Love; Volatile Opinions

PREVIOUS WORKING TITLES: "Three on a Match", "Take a Picture, It Lasts Longer", and most recently "Perfect Match". The title - the *final* title - is a phrase from a song by Badfinger, on the album "Straight Up" (excerpted below).

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Miesque, for a line of Luka's dialogue. And thanks to Roberta, for the idea of the story behind the "doorknob job". The usual surprises for both readers *and* author....

PREVIOUSLY, ON MY ER: Kerry was suspended after performing a procedure against Romano's orders; Luka was thrown into overtime hell.

There is no real perfection

There'll be no perfect day

Just love is our connection

The truth in what we say

--Pete Ham, "Perfection"

Kerry glanced at the phone. It hadn't been until her suspension that she'd realized how few people there were in her life, who she could simply call and *chat* with them. Larry had gone on vacation with Greg, the day after he'd given her the finished version of Luka's present, Monica had gone incommunicado again (but that was the way she'd always been), and Jeanie... well... she'd called Jeanie the day after being suspended, to see if the woman might like to go out for lunch.

The phone had rung several times, and then a machine picked up: "Hi! You've reached Reggie. And Jeanie," they had each said their own names, and Kerry had found that part of the message *so* very sweet (she thought of her own outgoing message, a dry version of "leave your name and number", in her own voice - she couldn't stand listening to it, so harsh and nasal-sounding, especially compared to Luka's deep, beautifully accented voice), especially Reggie's cheerful addition, in a squeaky voice, "And Carlos! We can't come to the phone right now," Jeanie had continued, laughing softly, "but leave your name, number and message at the beep, and we'll get back to you as soon as possible... yes we will, Carlos!" Kerry smiled weakly at Jeanie's baby-talk at the end, but dutifully spoke when the machine beeped in her ear.

"Uh, hi Jeanie. I... was wondering if you might like to go out, maybe get some lunch? I know we haven't really kept in touch since you left County, and... well... give me a call, okay? I'm at home. Uh..." she said, as she realized that she'd never given Jeanie her home phone number, "my number's 773-555-2722. Talk to you later." And she hung up, wondering if Jeanie had been standing right there by the machine the whole time, listening to her speak, and not bothering to pick up.

Jeanie had certainly never returned the call. It was possible, Kerry thought as she eyed the phone, that the three of them had finally made that trip to New Orleans that they'd planned as their honeymoon; she'd heard, from eavesdropping on the nurses (it was just about the only way she could find out about anything going on - or wrong - in the lives of her staff, since she'd been neatly cut out of the gossip loop since September... whether it was because of her new rank, or the way that they thought she'd got it, it didn't matter), that some of them blamed her for disrupting Jeanie and Reggie's plans with Carlos. She'd asked Adele to keep her part in letting Jeanie have Carlos secret, but hell... for all she knew, even her affair with Luka was common knowledge around County, for all their attempts at secrecy.

She came very close to calling Kim, to ask her if *she* wanted to go out-- er, go for-- er, have lunch, but thought of what Luka had told her... that Kim Legaspi was attracted to her. And here she'd thought that Kim was just a very tactile person, the way Luka was, constantly touching her arm, putting her hand on Kerry's shoulder... she crossed her arms in front of herself, in an unconsciously defensive gesture, then picked up the phone.

* * *

Romano didn't *dislike* the newest attending... any more than he disliked most people. He was pretty much just interested in testing Kovac - see how the big guy held up under pressure, see how he handled being put on so many shifts in such a short period of time. Oh... and he was also curious to see how long it would be before Kovac broke down and admitted that he was carrying on with Kerry Weaver. Broder hadn't been able to find out anything "useful", so it was up to him to try to torture it out of Kovac himself.

The guy was good, Romano had to give him that. He was utterly exhausted, but still holding on to his professional nature. Not very assertive, though, he decided, as Kovac unwillingly agreed to work yet another shift in response to an idle threat. Kovac hadn't, though, shown any interest in the dangled carrot of acting chief - a pity, since Romano privately thought that Kovac could be good in that position. Couldn't be any worse than Greene was doing, that was for sure - the place was a disaster area, from what he could see.

And, of course, Kovac was staying mum about Weaver... though he nearly slipped when he asked when she was going to return. "Who says she's coming back?" Romano enjoyed asking, as he walked away. He wondered why Kovac hadn't pointed out that Greene and LaVelle weren't working more of these double shifts. Just as well, really - personally, Romano would rather have a sleepy Kovac on duty than an alert Greene, *any* day. The guy was kind of a dink, sometimes. And LaVelle... well... LaVelle was a dork. A dork and a dink... the Dorky and Dinky Show.

He *did* intend to bring Weaver back, but not until he'd finished having his fun with this bunch. He'd bring her back, and see if she'd learned her lesson yet... the lesson, of course, being "Don't even *think* of screwing with the boss!" If not, well, the bitch was toast.

* * *

Luka glared at Romano's retreating back, and wondered if he could fit the annoying little man into the clothes dryer at home. He spent the next few seconds having a pleasant fantasy involving Romano being spun-dry, and saying things like "Ouch! Ow! Lemme outa here!" as his body went around and around, bumping painfully the entire time - he didn't realize he was smiling serenely while enjoying the fantasy, but wouldn't have been surprised. He mimed shooting at Romano's back, and shook his head. "Lord, I have d'gun... just give me d'strength not to buy d'bullets," he muttered, his accent thickened with fatigue.

Kerry had jokingly called him "Lucky", but she'd said it in a loving way, so he hadn't really minded. But Romano... coming at him like that, asking him if Luka meant "lucky". Okay, so there were a couple of words in Croatian that were very similar (though "lucky" wasn't one of them)... but then asking him if he was SURE that Luka was the Croatian version of "Luke"! He'd felt tempted to tell Romano "No, I'm not sure, you little troll. I've only spoken the language for nearly forty years now, that's all. Now get to the point, or get out of my face before I take you up to the roof and finish what Carter started!", but had refrained... mostly because he had noticed that the man seemed to have a vindictive streak: all kinds of defiance of the rules routinely happened around here, and went unpunished, and then - not even a week after Kerry's April Fool's prank on him (which had surprised even Luka with its flamboyant... *nastiness*) - she was suspended for a relatively minor offense?

God, he hated Romano... and he was *not* a man who usually hated people. Disliked, perhaps... didn't care for, sure. But going as far as actual *hate*... only a few people had ever pushed him to the point that if they were on fire, he wouldn't piss on 'em to put it out. One had been in med school... an older student who, with the help of some buddies, had tormented several of Luka's friends, one nearly to the point of suicide.

Luka's revenge had been crude, but impressive... especially considering how quickly he had put it together - in the middle of the night, he'd sneaked into the dormitory and rigged the doorknobs on the floor where that student and the student's buddies lived - the individual rooms *and* the stairwell doors - then spread axle grease on the floor outside the rooms, in the large common area. And then he'd stood in the stairwell with the door open, quickly rigged that last doorknob... and blown a whistle several times, very loudly, just before ducking back out into the stairway and letting the door swing shut.

He'd heard a lot of yelling and crashing and swearing for the next fifteen minutes, until somebody from another floor emerged to find out what the hell was going on... and he hadn't tried to run away, to escape detection, even though Dmitri and Janko and Pavle had caught up with him later (resulting in a magnificent fight that had resulted in all participants becoming spectacularly banged up - he had continued to carry on a mutual loathing with Dmitri, had lost track of Janko over time, but eventually, after some more hammering-out of details, had become close friends with Pavle... life was strange, sometimes), and even though he'd had to clean up all the mess he'd created.

Daniela had been royally pissed at him, for getting into trouble like that, but the satisfaction of revenge had almost been worth getting exiled to the couch the next night. Of course, she'd wound up waking him, to tell him to take her to the hospital... that her water had broken. Sixteen hours later, after a lot of screaming and humming and threats, they'd become parents... and a little over five years after that, he'd lost all of them.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He wasn't crazy enough *yet* to think about trying to... *deal* with Romano, but if that little weasel put him on too many more shifts, he would, by God, feel the need to do *something* drastic. His attention was suddenly drawn by the phone ringing at the admit desk, just as he had begun to think about heading across the street for something to eat.

* * *

Randi put down her magazine, and picked up the phone on the sixth ring. "ER."

"Ah, yes," a woman's high-pitched, very nasal, voice replied. "Might I speak with, ah, Dr. Kovatch, please? He treated me so nicely when I was in last week." Randi curled her lip as the woman snorted a braying laugh into her end of the line, and tried to retreat from the annoying sound.

"Uh... sure. Can I tell him who's calling?"

"This is Genevieve Bailey, honey," the woman answered. "Hurry please, I need some advice from him."

"Hold on." Randi rolled her eyes and punched the hold button, without waiting for "Genevieve Bailey" to acknowledge the command. "Hey, Dr. Kovatch! Phone call for you. Says her name is Genevieve Bailey. Line 2." He winced slightly at the way Randi said his name (though who *didn't* mangle it around here?), but held back a smile.

"Thank you, Randi. I'll take it in the lounge." He hurried in there, and picked up the phone, pressing the button for Line 2. "This is Kovac," he murmured, letting his smile break out and spread across his face. "What seems to be the problem, 'Ms Bailey'?"

"Well, Dr. Kovac," she began - he had been giving her intensive tutoring on the correct pronunciation of his name, which was clearly paying off - "I've been having a *terrible* time sleeping."

"Really. And what do you suppose is causing this?" He played with the telephone cord as he spoke, twirling the loops around his finger and twining the cord around his hand.

"Oh, it's simple. Really." "Ms Bailey's" voice had, by now, lost its intense nasality, and modulated back into the tones of the woman he loved. "I have a lot of trouble sleeping alone. I bet I'd sleep a lot better if there were a tall, dark, strong, handsome man right here next to me."

"I don't doubt that for a moment, Ms Bailey," he told her, his voice instantly back to a professional tone - Malucci had entered the lounge - and let go of the cord. "However, tests don't indicate that kind of prognosis."

"Somebody's there?"

"That's correct, Ms. Bailey."

"Interesting," she chuckled softly. "So Romano's trying to grind you into the dirt."

"Yes." He covered the mouthpiece for a second, and glared at Malucci, who was trying to be casual about the fact that he was just standing in front of his open locker. "Are you looking for something in particular, or just sorting the clutter? I'm trying to talk with a patient."

"Uh... found it," he said lamely, grabbing something - seemingly at random - and slamming the locker door shut. "So I'll, uh, let you get back to it." Luka raised an eyebrow at him, and Malucci left.

"I miss you," he said, once the door had closed behind Malucci's retreating back. "In an ideal world, someone like Romano would eventually have had an 'accident'. You know, he actually offered me your job."

"Why don't you take it?" Kerry suggested archly. "The money wouldn't hurt, remember?" Luka laughed... he vaguely remembered telling her something to that effect, just before all these extra shifts had begun.

"You are a very cruel woman, sometimes. Hey, uh, I know this is a cliche, but... uh, what are you wearing? I need something to keep me going a little longer."

"Oh, is that it?" He could hear the smile in her voice, and he rubbed at the back of his neck, where the muscles were knotting up again. Kerry was very good at untying the knots - he couldn't wait until he had the chance to get home and see her, be with her. "What am I wearing..." she pretended to think about his question. "That would be the flannel nightgown you love so much." He winced.

"You *are* cruel. So I will call in that prescription for you, Ms Bailey," he said suddenly, in his normal tone and manner, as one of the nurses came in the lounge.

"Someone else?" Kerry's dismay was obvious.

"That is correct. Until next time, Ms Bailey." Kerry wasn't the only one who could be "cruel". But oh... hearing her voice had been so good for him - that slight huskiness that told him, more than her words, how much she wanted him. He smiled and got up, and decided that he was *definitely* going to get something to eat now.

He ran into Carol on his way out; she had her twins in their little seats, and was somehow managing to haul them along with a baby bag across her shoulder. "Hey, Carol. First day of daycare for them, huh?" She stopped, and set the girls down.

"Yep. I had to do a lot of fast talking to get Daycare to agree to take them so young, but at least I can go up and see the girls when I go on break."

"Well, that's always good, for babies to see their mother," he observed solemnly, bending down to tickle Kate's cheek and wondering what any children he had with Kerry would look like. Stunning, if they took after their mother... if they got their father's nose, though, they were in for a lifetime of trouble! "Do you need a hand getting them up there?"

"Oh, no, I've got it. Really. Besides, I'm a nurse - I'm strong." She smiled reassuringly at him, and he returned the smile after a moment's hesitation. "Go on," she insisted.

"If you're sure?" Carol nodded quickly and picked up the seats again, and went to the elevators. He ran across the street, shivering a little - it was pretty chilly for a mid-April day - and quickly had his order in for a sandwich and coffee.

* * *

Kerry hung up the phone, aware she was grinning like an idiot. But then, she hadn't really had a chance to talk to him since he'd made it home, very briefly, two days ago... just long enough to eat something, shower, shave, change his clothing, and kiss her senseless just before heading back out. She'd told him to expect a call from "Genevieve Bailey" at some point - it had been way too short, and she hadn't had a chance to say half of the things she wanted to say to him (dammit, she'd wanted to tell him things that would make his hair curl, and make it impractical for him to stand up for a while!), but at least she had spoken to him.

She felt better, now - his dark, teasing voice, ironic even when he'd been using his professional voice for the benefit of other people on his end of the line, had been like a long-distance caress - and she decided to head downstairs and work off some nervous energy by doing some organizing. After John had moved out, she'd moved some boxes down here - stuff of her parents that she'd been holding onto since they'd died, and hadn't had the heart to look at in all this time. She sat on the bed and carefully opened the first box, which had been neatly labelled with her name in Joe Weaver's slightly shaky writing - his arthritis had been pretty bad, by the end.

Some old pictures, letters she'd written home when she was in college, a book of really bad poetry that she'd written as a teenager (it was, she thought, some kind of cosmic rule that *all* American teenagers, at one time or another *will* write really bad poetry). She found the yearbook from her senior year and opened it reluctantly, almost afraid to look at the eighteen-year-old she'd been then. Her hair had been a little darker, more of a chestnut color, and much longer then - she'd worn it in the French braid that had been the daily standard for her, for a long time.

There was the picture of her at a Latin Club meeting... seated, as - she remembered - all of the candids of her in the yearbook... through all four years of high school... had been. She hadn't wanted her crutch to be visible in the pictures, since it had been a heavy, ugly, clunky thing back then. She'd been the only member of the Latin Club who'd been in it for the Latin, rather than the line on the CV... god, she'd been such a *dork* back then!

And still was, she acknowledged silently. She had a boyfriend - a *man* - now who was smart and sweet and... oh, *damn*, was he hot! But on some level, she was always going to be reliable little Kerry, the one the teacher left in charge of the class when he or she went to the office to make a call. The one whose reasons for being late for class were never questioned. The one who whose yearbooks always had things like "Gosh! I wish I was as smart as you! See ya next year!" and "To the best ticket-seller the drama club ever had!" written in it. She was never going to be "The best friend a person could ever hope to have!"

She smiled ruefully, and clapped the yearbook closed, returning it to the box. Enough of *those* memories for today, she thought.

* * *

He'd had to tell a man that he *wasn't* having panic attacks, and he *wasn't* having heart problems, that instead he had leukemia. Luka's hand twitched the entire time that the two of them spoke, as the man told him that the only living blood relative he had - the best prospect for a bone marrow match - was a son that his vindictive ex-wife would probably not allow to be tested, but Luka had no intentions of dumping the man onto another of the ER doctors just to make himself feel better. Hadn't he spoken harshly to Dave about that, back in January? *He* was the man's doctor, *he* would give the bad news. He was *good* at giving bad news, after all - he did it enough of the damn time, he *should* be good at it by now.

At last, the man had been admitted... with a minute to spare before word came in of an ambulance on the way. "Why don't I take it," he muttered, as Dave failed even to *try* to look busy, and headed to the lounge to get his coat. Some of the nurses were gathered around a photo album of pictures, of Carol's kids... dear God, no, he couldn't take it, not *today*. She would've been fourteen today. He had originally arranged to have today off, he had planned to take off for the day, maybe drive out into the country by himself. Or to the lake, perhaps... she had barely remembered the coast, from too-infrequent visits to his parents, but being near open water had always calmed him. Tucson had been the worst place that he'd lived, for that very reason. (Okay, it had been the *second* worst... but Vukovar hadn't been so bad before the war - Tucson had always been and would always be that way.)

He tried to ignore them, and opened his locker. But Conni was on her way over to him with the photo album. *Please*, no, he thought miserably, and managed to choke out "Beautiful" without really looking at the pictures; he would have said absolutely anything at all to make Conni go away, and take that album with her. He didn't see Carol's blonde babies, though... just little dark Jasna and Marko.

And if he'd heard the conversation in the lounge a few seconds after he left, he might have felt differently about Carol following him outside - if he had heard the nurses mention his children being dead, and then look to Carol for confirmation, he might not have been so quick to pull out his wallet, to show her his only surviving picture. But he didn't hear the talk, and he did show Carol the picture. Why not - after all, she was his friend, wasn't she? And there were so few people around here who *asked* about him, about his family; it was painful pleasure to him, to speak of them. Kerry was the only other person around here who'd asked, and she was at home. Might as well be on Mars, as much chance as he had of getting out of here anytime soon.

* * *

Noon came at last, and he managed to escape before Romano could corral him for yet another shift - he really shouldn't be driving, as exhausted as he was, but he'd already been away from Kerry way too long. He called her from the parking lot, to let her know he was *finally* off, and on his way home, and she answered on the third ring. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Sweet Luka, she thought, as she reassured him and they chatted casually and briefly. Even his voice was drained; she could just imagine how awful he was *looking*. Carol had already called her, to make sure she was all right... and, Kerry suspected, to crow over her latest "success" with Luka. She had mentioned Luka showing her a picture of his wife and daughter. Good one, Carol, Kerry mused, doling out these little personal snippets as though you have some special access to him. You'd *shit* if you knew who *really* has the special access.

He'd shown her the small photo shortly after they became lovers. That, and his quiet observation that it was the only physical connection he had with his dead family, had given her the idea for his birthday present. That is, she had *intended* to wait until September to give it to him. But with the hard time he was having at work - she knew first-hand what an asshole Romano could be - she thought he might be cheered up a little by getting an early birthday present. She hoped. She fetched it quickly from her dresser drawer, where she'd stashed it, wrapped, the moment she got her hands on it, and returned to the living room. Ah, just in time: there was the sound of his car.

She made sure that the lights in the entryway were on - he was literally unable to enter a darkened room (if only John had had that phobia, she sometimes let herself muse, he might not be going through his painful recovery now) - and waited on the sofa, his present on her lap. Oh, hell, she thought, she couldn't stay seated, when he'd been away for so long, and she stood up, heading in the direction of the door.

His key turned in the lock, and he came inside. "Hi." He looked every bit as ragged as he'd sounded on the phone, and his foot was dragging slightly from fatigue, but he brightened instantly when he saw her. He didn't even wait to take off his coat and shoes, but immediately closed the rest of the distance to kiss her. And the way that he kissed her was, she thought, so sweet - holding her face in his hands very lightly, as though he were handling fine china, as she leaned into him slightly. They both sighed softly as he ended the kiss.

"Shto?" he asked, pointing at the package in her hand.

"Early birthday present," she informed him, and handed it to him. He took it, but grinned mischievously at her and pulled her back into his arms. Oh, that was good, he thought, I've missed being with you, Kerry.

"Hm... you know, there is a custom where I come from, that before one can open an early present, one must make love with the giver," he told her hopefully.

"Then I hope you never open an early present from Dr. Romano," she teased him, and he made a face.

"Echhh! Great, spoil d' mood, beba. As if I haven't already seen enough of that zhaba to last me a lifetime. Okay, c'mon." He pushed her away gently and went to sprawl across the sofa, then patted the cushions next to him. She watched him undo the tape carefully and methodically, gently keeping the paper intact, and fought the urge to reach over and rip the package open for him. She wasn't sure if that method of unwrapping came naturally to him, or whether it came from his years of living with the deprivations of war - she just knew that it was driving her *nuts*.

She knew that *she* liked to shred the paper off as quickly as she could. There'd been nobody to give her presents for a long time, though - Valentine's Day had been the only present since... well... probably Ellis's short appearance in her life. She'd lied when she'd told John there was nothing she needed from a Secret Santa - she'd simply been afraid of taking a risk with her coworkers, as always. Even Luka had come to her - she had seduced him (well, she *thought* she was the one who had done the seducing - with his accent, though, he could even make something like "pericardiocentesis" sound sexy), but he was the one who'd shown up on her doorstep in the middle of the night.

He finished removing the paper, folding it and setting it aside before he turned the picture frame over. "God in heaven..." he whispered, then lapsed into rapid Croatian as he traced the figures in the photograph. "Uh, *how*?" he asked incredulously, pointing at the picture, which showed Luka seated next to his wife - Jasna on her lap, and a small dark boy on his. "I'm dreaming, right? I fell asleep and crash d' car, and now...?"

"A friend of mine does this kind of thing as a sideline. I 'borrowed' your photo and had him scan it, and then I put it right back," Kerry paused, bracing herself for a well-deserved blast of his temper for having gone through his things, but he only smiled distractedly. Still in shock, she decided.

"Remind me later, and I'll get mad at you then, okay?" It wasn't, after all, as though *he* had any right to be angry at her for going behind his back, he thought, giddy with fatigue. "You had them scan my picture, I get *that*, but--"

"Remember that night, when you were telling me all about Marko?" She barely waited for his nod before continuing. "My friend knows a police sketch artist. I gave him the description that I got from you, and he gave her the description."

"Ah. Yes, it's very good. There are little differences, of course, but this is amazing. And, uh, I recognize the picture of me, of course," he finished, rubbing at the back of his neck - the way he did whenever he was feeling a little awkward. She'd had Larry electronically remove most of the grey; she suspected that he'd picked up a lot of it in the last nine years. "This... it's the most incredible gift anyone has ever given me." He set the picture down on the coffeetable, almost reluctantly, his hand lingering on it for a moment, and turned back to Kerry.

"Do you... would you like to go to church with me next Sunday? Easter," he explained, when she stared at him in surprise - even on the rare occasions that he *didn't* work Sundays, he seemed to prefer staying home... he frequently spent a lot of his free daylight hours in the back, getting the ground cleared up and ready for planting as soon as it warmed up a little more.

"Sure, but it doesn't do me any good if I can't understand the service. I assume we *are* going to a Croatian Catholic church, right?"

"Well, yeah, but I'll let you know what's happening." She stroked his cheek, letting her fingernails rasp softly against the stubble.

"No, you'll last about five minutes and then you'll either fall asleep or get too engrossed in the service to remember to explain anything." He rumbled protestingly.

"You have such little faith in me?"

"It has nothing to do with whether or not I have faith in you, sweetheart." Her fingers rasped against his stubble again. "I know you." He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to make her back down, but she arched an eyebrow right back at him... he looked away first, and chuckled softly.

"I promise, Kerry, that I will do my very best to let you know what's happening during the service." He took hold of her hand and placed it against his chest, so she could feel his heartbeat. "That is going to have to do." She sighed.

"All right." She took his hand and kissed first the palm, then the back. "I'm checking for stigmata," she explained when he raised his eyebrows at her enquiringly.

"I'm about the last person who'd have them, believe me. Though I do feel like I could sleep for three days." He yawned, barely remembering to cover his mouth at the last moment, and kissed her neck very slowly and gently, finally stopping with his head nestled on her shoulder and his hand barely cupping her breast - his thumb moving rhythmically on her nipple as she gently stroked his hair.

After a little while, though, his movement had pretty much stopped, and he had become suspiciously heavy... she poked his shoulder gently, and was rewarded with a soft snore. Sigh. She carefully wriggled out from under him, wincing as her left leg caught under him for a moment, and got him stretched out. She didn't even bother to try rolling him to remove his coat, but did slip his shoes off his feet. Poor sweet baby... so tired. She thought of curling up next to him, as she'd done after she found him asleep on the couch the day he'd prevented John from killing himself, but he had already managed to "spread out" to fill all available space on the couch. Oh well... she'd made it - barely - the last several days without him, she supposed she could make it for a little longer.

* * *

He groaned and raised his head, shaking it as he realized very gradually that he was lying on the couch. Then he discovered that internal hydraulic pressure was what had awakened him, and he sat up slowly, rubbing his face groggily... stood up and staggered in the direction of the stairs, pausing long enough to remove his coat and hang it up, before he stumbled into the downstairs bathroom... still too dazed to do anything more than sit to do his business.

He was tempted to just go back to sleep right there, but decided that he'd be horribly embarrassed if there were a fire or some other emergency - he would *hate* for firefighters or paramedics to come in and find him on the can with his pants down around his ankles. Not that that would be the most embarrassing thing that had ever come into the ER, of course - it probably wouldn't even be the most embarrassing thing of that day, in fact. But it *would* be the most embarrassing thing of *his* day, and that was the major sticking point for him.

Ohhhhkay... he stood up, using the sink for support and hating that he felt so old sometimes, and got himself reassembled, then made his way up the stairs and headed for the bedroom to lie down, but heard... humming and splashing from the bathroom. Sounded promising, he decided, and nudged the door open slightly. He found Kerry in the tub with mounds of bubbles around her. *Scented* bubbles, judging from the gentle fragrance in the room... flowers. Mm... and the prettiest flower was right there in the tub.

She turned her head when she heard the door open, and saw Luka standing - well, *leaning* - there, staring, as if he was fascinated by the view. Which, of course, he was.

He raised an eyebrow at the sight, his fatigue pushed aside for now. "I don't suppose there's room in there for me?"

"Let's find out." They'd showered together quite a few times - although her leg had always prevented her from reciprocating (at least in the shower) what he'd done to... *for*... her several times now - but, oddly enough, had never shared a tub.

She watched him undress, and noticed that his eyes met hers. "Did you sleep well?" He undid the last button on his shirt, and shrugged it off his body, just before he undid his pants, pushed them down and stepped out of them.

"Nedosta," he answered absently, too tired to notice that he hadn't answered her in English, and looked up when she flicked a little lilac-scented soapy water at him. "Hey! What was that for? As I remember," he told her, smiling as he knelt next to the tub, "that was how something similar got started. *And* as I recall, you were screaming for mercy by the time I was done with you." She returned the smile, and leaned forward a little to kiss him.

"I was screaming your name, that's for sure."

"Oh, that's right. 'Please, Luka! Please!'" he teased her; she rolled her eyes at him.

"Yeah, but I *wasn't* screaming 'Please, Luka, please push my blender off the counter!'" He snorted with laughter, and returned the kiss... breaking it off to strip off his t-shirt.

He got in the other end, sighing at the heat of the water, and stretched out his legs, capturing her hips between his feet. "C'mere," he urged, holding out his hand, and she promptly went to his end, letting him arrange her on his lap so that his hands seemed to be everywhere, until he was just as covered with nice-smelling bubbles as she was. She turned in his arms, and put her arms around his neck, kissing him - and being kissed back - fiercely until he groaned and moved her legs so that she was astride him, and he was deep inside her... he muttered softly and helped her move, vaguely aware that they were starting to get water all over the bathroom, as he moved his hand up and down her back in time with her own motions, faster and faster. He felt her come, a moment before she cried out softly and bit his shoulder, *hard*, which set him off with an almost surprised cry.

They held each other tightly in the aftermath for a few minutes, a little startled - as they sometimes were - by how sheerly physical their lovemaking could get. He was the first to speak, his voice quiet and awed. "Let's go to bed, okay?"