Chapter Text
[1]
The first time Shawn and Eric have sex, Shawn's father has just left again and Eric is being confronted with the real-world for the first time in his life. They've both been left reeling and just a little broken hearted. More than a bit lost.
Scaling the tree in the Matthews’ back yard is old hat for Shawn, by now, the bark biting into his fingers an almost-comforting sensation. Making the jump from tree-branch to window is muscle memory and he lets himself tumble through the window a little rougher than he might normally, hoping it might help to quell the discomfort that been spreading and itching under his skin.
"He's not here."
Eric doesn't bother to look up when he says it, lying curled up on his side on the bed, face buried in a magazine. He hears Shawn pause for a moment. "Oh." is all the younger boy says before going to sit on Eric's bed. It’s unusual.
This isn’t the first time Shawn’s turned up looking for Cory when he wasn’t there, but it is the first time he’s stayed. It’s definitely the first he’s come to Eric, however passively.
There’s something tense about the silence between them, and when he gives it some thought, Eric assumes Shawn's looking for someone to play the older brother, offer him the help he isn't willing to admit he needs. Despite the fact that they aren't that close, Eric cares enough to offer that if he needs it. Shawn’s been underfoot for years, it would feel wrong to turn the kid away.
When he tosses his magazine to the side with a sigh and turns to face Shawn, all his deductions are swiftly swept away. The bed shifts underneath them as Shawn leans in close and for a second Eric thinks Shawn is about to kiss him. For a second, even Shawn thinks he might. They stay frozen, suspended in the moment for a stretch of seconds that feel too surreal to be set in time, but at the last second Shawn ducks his head, pressing his lips just below Eric's jaw.
The breath shared between them is some indeterminable mix of relief and disappointment.
Eric isn't sure what to do with the heat that blooms under Shawn’s lips, so he doesn't do much of anything. He’s not even certain he’s breathing. Shawn presses closer, some urgent, desperate need to be touched burning through his chest as he tongues his way down Eric's throat. When he bites at Eric’s collarbone the older boy releases a groan he hadn’t felt himself holding back. It’s in the same moment that he feels the way his hands have curled into the sheets with a white-knuckled grip.
Shawn takes the noise as encouragement, helped along by the way he can feel Eric’s pulse quickening under his lips. Within seconds Eric’s being pushed back, legs still hanging off the edge of the bed, and Shawn is crawling over to straddle him, shucking his flannel and t-shirt as he goes. If one of them were just a little older, a little more thoughtful, that might be the moment to jar them out of this- whatever this is, between them. Might be the moment one of them sees sense and puts a stop to things before they can go any further.
But, they’re not older, and they’re not more thoughtful, and when Shawn settles in Eric’s lap, pushing his hands up under the older boy’s shirt, neither of them can think past the heat spurred by the touch and the way it sets their nerves on fire.
Shawn’s mouth is back on Eric’s neck, and Eric knows he should say something, he knows they're too young for this. Or, at the very least, he knows Shawn definitely is. Still, when Shawn's hands finally start tugging at the hem of his shirt he doesn’t resist, instead lifting his arms to make it easier for him. Once they’re both half-clothed, he finally gives up any remaining vestiges of resistance and lets himself run his hands down the warm skin of Shawn’s back, wrapping around his slender waist to pull him closer and letting instinct be his guide.
He slides his hands into Shawn's hair and pulls him back, moving to kiss him.
"No."
Even with the heat in his eyes, there’s a hard edge to the look Shawn gives him. Something almost scared. Eric wants to ask why, though, with a boy like Shawn, as damaged as he is, it's not exactly the most surprising development. He knows the question would ruin it, and Shawn saves- or damns- them both when he slips out of his grip and slides down between Eric's knees. They both do their best to push any other thoughts from their minds.
From there, it’s a quick escalation from bad to worse. By the time Shawn crawls back into Eric’s lap they’re both near breathless. Shawn tugs at the rest of Eric’s clothes until they’re just off enough and sheds his own entirely as Eric grabs the bottle he keeps hidden in the nightstand. Eric feels dizzy when Shawn grabs it from him, and before either of them has a chance to stop and think about what’s about to happen, Shawn is busy opening himself up, slowly, a bit clumsily, and not nearly thoroughly enough, but still belying far too much experience for comfort, despite the tremble in his fingers they both choose to ignore.
In what feels like seconds but must be longer, he’s bracing his hands on Eric’s shoulders, doing his best to steady his breath and not betray the staccato rhythm of his heart, and sliding down onto the older boy’s cock. The noise it rips out of Eric’s throat is one he can’t recall ever having made before.
Shawn surrounds him. Too hot, too tight, too close. It doesn't last long for either of them. Eric finishes first spasming and groaning, squeezing bruises into the skin of Shawn’s waist. He’s too stunned and light-headed from the force of his orgasm to bring Shawn off, but it doesn’t prove to be much of an issue as the younger boy brings a hand down between them and buries his face in his neck, groaning as his own climax follows. Eric can feel the spasms running through his body and it’s near enough to drive him out of his mind, still almost painfully oversensitive.
The moment stretches as they both come back to earth, doing their best to stave off the inevitable crash of reality. Sharing breath. Regaining themselves.
Eventually, the position gets too uncomfortable, and Shawn pulls off, sliding out of Eric’s grip and collapsing to his side. Eric lets himself fall back as well, after a beat, still feeling breathless. They aren't quite touching, but they can both feel the heat radiating from the other between them.
Eric tries to think of something to say, but really, what is there to be said in a situation like this? He's still trying to decide whether or not he should feel awkward or guilty- both, probably- when Shawn sits up. He hears the sharp intake of breath that follows the movement, he can't see his face but he's sure the hurt must be enough to show on Shawn’s face. Guilt it is, then.
He doesn’t watch directly as Shawn stands and dresses, doesn’t think either of them could handle it, but he can see the gingerness of his movements and feels a horrible stab of doubt- what if he was a virgin? He’d seemed so confident, but what if- what if that had just been bravado? What if he’d only seen it because he’d wanted to?
He rolls to face the wall, it’s too difficult to think about and he can’t bring himself to ask. Not that he thinks he’d get a straight answer, either way.
"Later, Matthews." Is all Shawn can manage as he crawls out the window, doing his best to ignore the pain that follows his movements and the sick-adrenalin confusing his feelings. He lets himself drop from higher than he should, hoping the impact will drive away any urge to linger on what they’ve just done.
Once the room is empty, Eric curls back onto his side and tries not to analyze the undercurrent in Shawn's voice.
[2]
It’s hard to be as surprised as he should be when Shawn slips through the window and ends up standing in Eric and Cory's room, looking ready to burst at the seams with barely contained anger. He slowly turns away from his desk and tries to convince himself that he regrets that Shawn has sought him out and ended up here.
Not for the first time, he wishes he were more convincing.
He’d accused Shawn of seeing Topanga behind Cory's back, and looking back he knows it was an unfair assumption. He doesn't know Shawn as well as he should for all the time the boy has spent in the Matthew's family home over the years, but he knows him well enough to know he wouldn't do something like that to his best-friend. To the boy who’s almost more of a brother to him than Eric and Cory are to each other.
Now that Eric has had time to examine the driving forces behind his threats, he understands that they weren't motivated entirely by the want to protect a younger sibling. All last week Shawn had walked around the school as 'Veronica', been asked out by the most popular guy in school and Eric had felt jealousy. Real, non-superficial jealousy like he can’t remember ever having felt before, crawling up his throat to leave a bitter taste on his tongue and filling him with shame and denial. He'd decided that doing anything about it was so far from being an option it was laughable, and opted to ignore it, instead.
Clearly, there were consequences and said consequences were currently standing in his room, staring him down with a frankly intimidating anger.
Shawn doesn’t even bother with the pretence of being there for Cory, he already knows the younger boy isn’t home. That’s why he’s here. There’s the burn in his chest that he’s starting to recognize as something uniquely associated with Eric spurring his movements as he walks over to where the older boy is seated at his desk and pushes him, hard.
When both Eric and the chair he’d been sitting on clatter to the ground, it satisfies some cloying need inside him. He wants to push more, so he steps closer, savouring the look in Eric’s eyes when they snap up to meet his. He feels the older boy’s hand come up to twist around his shirt and then he’s down on the ground with him, on top of him, neither of them entirely sure how he got there, already too busy biting at each other skin like they’re trying for blood and yanking at each other’s clothes to figure it out.
It's rougher this time, meaner. Like neither of them is entirely sure whether they’d rather be fighting or fucking. Less than a year has passed, Shawn isn't much older than he was the first time they did this, but there’s a confidence to what he does that wasn’t there before and Eric can tell he's had more experience. It makes something ugly coil in his gut.
They only take off what they need to, both more focused on taking out their frustrations on each other than with anything like a connection. Maybe they don't need it, or maybe they just can't quite bring themselves to acknowledge that it’s already there, marking every movement, like it or not. Neither of them sure, and neither of them particularly inclined to care, at the moment.
Once they’re finished, Shawn doesn’t linger and Eric didn’t expect him to, though it still stings. By the time he pulls himself together just a little and leans against the bed, Shawn is already on his way out the window and Eric can’t think of anything to say no matter how much he wishes there was something, anything, to make this situation less painful, less fleeting. Nothing comes to mind, then Shawn’s gone and he feels unsatisfied with the world, yearning for something he can’t quite put a name to and doesn’t have the energy to try for.
[3]
Cory's been following them all around with that stupid camera for nearly a week now and Eric finds it significantly less irritating than he’d expected. Which, still very irritating, but he hasn’t tried to break the camera yet, so he’s counting it as a win.
He's been a bit anxious about moving in with Jack and Shawn, knows he’s not the only one feeling that way- though, he’s fairly certain that if Jack’s been nervous it’s for very different reasons than his own. Shawn, who knows- the camera seems to give them all something else to focus on. It eases everyone’s nerves, takes the edge off the reality of the situation.
When that’s not enough, he distracts himself by watching the interactions between Jack and Shawn. He can see Jack trying hard to get past every wall Shawn keeps throwing up in front of him, desperate to make their relationship as brothers work. He can see Shawn, torn between letting himself accept what Jack is offering, the chance at a small piece of the family he’s always craved, and pushing him away, the way he's done with people his whole life. Too afraid of being let down again to try.
He tries to tell himself he’s watching them both the same way, the same amount, but it’s such a weak lie he’s not even sure why he bothers, most days.
It’s hard to say for sure, but he thinks Shawn shares his anxieties about their- situation. He'd pushed what happened between them to the back of his mind years ago, done his best to compartmentalize it away and revisit it as little as possible. He'd gotten into school and for a little bit, he'd even thought he might be in love, ready to be a father to a child that wasn't even his. For a minute he’d felt like he might be someone else.
Moving in with Jack and Shawn, though, it’s brought everything that happened between them rushing to the surface in some horrible tangle of guilt and want that he can’t seem to push away. Before, he could at least blame everything on some ill-advised mix of hormones and a too-willing partner. Now, though- things are different. Now, he knows Shawn better. They’re not close, per say, but they’re something like friends.
Shawn hasn't said anything to support Eric’s suspicions, but occasionally he'll catch him staring out of the corner of his eye, looking almost angry. He isn't really sure how to take that, but he’s never been sure about much between them- like this, at least.
It feels like it takes about a million years, but they finally get the majority of their things unpacked and put away in a way that almost resembles something organized. All Shawn and Eric are interested in is collapsing on the couch, but Jack suggests drinks to celebrate their new living arrangements and the call of cheap booze is too tempting to ignore. None of them are actually old enough, but Shawn knows a guy who knows a guy- as they all figured he would- and they get into a little dive a few blocks over easily enough.
It’s a good night, even if Eric spends what feels like half of it trying and failing not to stare at the flush rising on Shawn’s cheeks. Really, he’s probably worse off, though it’s Jack who proves to have the weakest constitution.
When they get home, it takes both Shawn and Eric to get Jack inside. They aren’t exactly at their best, either, and they take far too long dragging him out of the elevator and down the hall. By the time they get to their apartment, they give up entirely on getting him to his room, and leave him to collapse haphazardly on the couch. Shawn slumps down over the back of the sofa, laughing like he’s exhausted, and Eric lets himself drop down onto the floor and fall back, panting and giggling just a little.
Eric’s just caught up enough in the moment to think suggesting a nightcap might not be the terrible idea it is when Shawn breaks it, bidding Eric goodnight with mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and far too pretty of a smile before stumbling off to his own room, leaving Eric to heave himself up with a sigh.
Sleep won’t come. He counts sheep, he recites the alphabet backwards, he does everything and anything he can think of, but the room keeps spinning and the heat coiling in his gut refuses to cool. Sleep seems like it’s only getting further by the moment.
He’s caught somewhere on the road to a dream state, but every time he tries to close his eyes and give in the spinning gets worse and nothing comes of it, so, he decides to drag himself up to go to the bathroom, but on the way back to his room he somehow finds himself instead of Shawn’s door, instead. Funny, how that happened.
Without thinking about what he's doing, without thinking of much of anything, really, he pushes open the door and lets his feet carry him over to Shawn’s bed. The younger boy is already snoring lightly when he sits, not particularly gracefully, on the edge of the bed.
Shawn’s breath stutters, and then he’s rolling over slowly, looking up at Eric with bleary, sleep riddled eyes.
"What are you doing?" His voice is already gone rough with sleep, and Eric doesn't really have an answer for him, anyways, so instead of answering he drapes himself over Shawn and presses his nose into his jaw, inhaling deeply. He fails utterly to convince himself he didn’t miss his scent, didn’t remember it vividly enough to make him ache. Shawn's head falls back into the pillow with a tired sigh, but he doesn't try to push him away. Eric’s fingers fumble blindly for the seam on Shawn's shirt before pushing underneath to drag over the hot skin of his abdomen.
He's not even doing it with any particular intent, he just wants to feel Shawn’s skin. He won't think about what that means. Not right now.
Eventually, Shawn's hands come up to pull at Eric's hair, forcing them eye-to-eye.
"Eric," Shawn's voice is firm, cleared of any drowsiness that’d been there the first time he spoke. "Really, what are you doing?" Eric doesn't hear Shawn's question- no- isn’t ready to. Instead, he is struck with the near overwhelming desire to press his lips against Shawn's. That feels much more pressing, at the moment, but he knows Shawn still won’t let him if he tries.
"Why can't I kiss you?" For a moment, Shawn's eyes go wide, the surprised vulnerability behind them plain as day, but then the shutters come down and the familiar mask of anger spreads over his face as he tries, however weakly, to push Eric off of him.
"Eric, get off of me." His voice is cold, and Eric's face falls, but he moves to sit up, trying to ignore the cold sting of rejection that poisons his veins. He shuffles back, not quite willing to leave the bed entirely. He doesn't want to go, but he doesn't know what he could say that would convince Shawn to want him to stay.
It’s selfish, he knows, but he feels too weak to care.
They sit in silence, Shawn won't meet his eyes. Eric is almost ready to leave when he finally says something.
"Why do you want me?" It’s not- it’s not hesitant, exactly, but there’s disbelief clear in his voice. For a moment, Eric can't say think of anything to say. He's never actually voiced out loud what he wants, let alone heard it from someone else, or really even examined why.
Eventually, when he can see regret over his words starting to spread across Shawn’s face, he speaks.
"Does it really matter?" Shawn's face twists from uncertainty to anger in a snap. Before Eric can ask why, he's up and out of the bed, on the other side room, pacing the shoebox of a room like there’s fire nipping at his heels. Eric suspects the only reason he doesn't leave the room is Jack sleeping out on the couch.
"Of course it matters, Eric." He snaps, "I need to know what you want from me."
Eric, unfortunately, doesn't have an answer for him. He’s not even sure he has an answer for himself, yet. Instead, he simply asks, "Why?"
"Because!” Shawn grouses. “Because, everyone wants something from me. You don't want me, no one ever wants me, only something from me, so just tell me what it is and we can get this over with." His words are punctuated by his movements- or lack thereof, halting as he finishes and turning to stare at Eric, very clearly expecting an answer. Demanding it.
Eric can't believe what he's hearing.
"What are you talking about?" When Shawn doesn't interrupt, as he half expects, he goes on. He hardly even has to think. "Shawn, there are lots of people who want you. Cory, Jack, Topanga, my whole family, even." Shawn's face sours at that, it stings to see it, but Shawn doesn't say anything. Eric stands to step closer to him. "Just tell me what you're thinking."
It feels too close to begging for comfort, but he just wants Shawn to talk to him, for once. For a moment Shawn looks like he might give in, finally, finally say what he’s really feeling, but, in the end, he just sighs and shakes his head, before stepping closer to bury his face in the crook of Eric's shoulder in something Eric can’t entirely identify as comfort or diversion.
Either way, he can feel that something between them is different.
"Do you want me?" Shawn asks, and it's quiet, this time. Eric can tell his question carries so much more weight than the simplicity of it implies.
"Of course." Eric replies, just as quietly. It’s the right thing to say, apparently. Shawn sighs into his skin, deep and heavy, like some great weight has been lifted from his back, before walking Eric backwards and pushing him down and into the bed.
He still won't kiss him, but Eric feel like maybe things between them are moving forward. He doesn't know how, but for now that's okay. Forward is enough, however slowly.
[4]
It's been a long time.
Almost two years. Not that anyone’s counting.
Eric feels- something, more than he’s not willing to acknowledge, but he can't seem to call anger, or anything even resembling it, to the surface when Shawn crowds in close enough to hold. He can feel the hurt radiating off the younger man, the urge to self destruct and the struggle against it. He knows there’s pain, there. The pain of Angela leaving, the pain of his Father's death, the pain of his world falling apart around him.
Eric knows that Shawn would rather be in the arms of someone else, right now, and he won’t pretend it doesn’t ache, but he still wants to be here. He still wants to ease the pain of the man in his arms, more so than his own.
Shawn's done bad things, just like everyone else in the world, but Eric knows he doesn't deserve the suffering that's been heaped upon him, threatening to suffocate him and drag him under his whole life. If he can give Shawn a break, ease the burden and help him think about something, anything other than the pain for even just a second, he will.
So, he tries. He knows he'll fail. He knows in the morning they'll both probably be only worse off for this, just like always, but he tries anyway.
[5]
He’s never hurt like this before. Never felt such an emptiness, something so deep it seems to shift his entire centre of gravity and weigh down his bones, his every breath.
It’s barely been an hour when Shawn shows up. He’s curled up on his bed, skin under his eyes tight with tears, Tommy’s heartbroken cries echoing around his mind. He knows- he knows it’s for the best, walking away, but he knows he let Tommy down, in the end, because he never should’ve gotten his hopes up to begin with. Tommy, he understands, just wants someone to love him. Just wants to have a family, and Eric convinced him he could be that family. Right before he abandoned him.
He doesn't even know how Shawn got in, but as soon as he comes close enough, Eric drags him close and clings to him. He knows it makes him look weak, but he feels even weaker. It doesn’t matter. He wants to ask Shawn how it feels. What it's like not to have a family, how can he make it feel better?
It’s desperate, but he just needs to know that Tommy will be alright, that he made the right decision. Still, though, he can't get the words out, doubts it would help either way. He knows, no matter how badly he wishes there were, there aren't any magic words he can say to make it all better. Nothing he can do, at this point, could take pain away. Not for anyone.
When Shawn pulls off his shirt and pushes him back, rubbing soothing circles against Eric's chest, he tries to concentrate entirely on the feeling of Shawn's hands dragging over his skin. Block out everything bad in the world and pretend it's only him and Shawn. Pretend they're the only ones in the world and all that exists is this point in time. Here and now. Pretend maybe things are different than they are.
Shawn doesn’t say a word, but there’s a tenderness to his movements that Eric needs and appreciates more than he can say. He knows he's only hurting himself, in the end, pretending he can actually have this- have Shawn, but he can't bring himself to care.
When they finish, Shawn stays. Eric’s waiting for him to get up and leave with some stilted goodbye, just like he has every other time they’ve done this, but he remains right where he is. Keeps rubbing those same circles into Eric’s skin until he’s able to let go of the hurt enough to find sleep.
It's the first time he hasn't been gone when Eric wakes up. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, but still, there’s tension in the air between them. Shawn wants to say something, he can feel it. He's dying to ask what he’s thinking. What he was thinking when he showed up in the first place. But, in the end, neither of them say a word.
Shawn lingers for a while, and eventually, they hear a groan drift down the hall from the living room. Shawn presses his lips to Eric’s shoulder and slips out of the room, it’s somehow the most intimate they’ve been, and it leaves him feeling more alone and foolish than he did last night. Like he’s just been given a painfully clear look at everything he’s not allowed to have.