Fic - The History Boys; Getting Lost Is Not A Waste Of Time
Title: Getting Lost Is Not A Waste Of Time
Author: bergann
Fandom: The History Boys
Pairing: Posner/Scripps (platonic Scripps/OFC, Posner/OMC)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6 211
Summary: A week into Oxford, Scripps finds himself a girl.
Or rather, a girl finds Scripps.
Author’s Note: for pyrexic, who bought me in the Sweet Charity (sweetcharityvox) auction and who wanted something 'exactly like In Between Dreams only different!' & 'happy endings' & 'self-awareness-via-jealousy'. This is sort-of, hopefully, fills those criteria.
A week into Oxford, Scripps finds himself a girl.
Or rather, a girl finds Scripps.
It's pretty much an accident. At least Scripps had no intention of getting a girl, certainly not so soon, despite the joking comments he has made to the lads; and finds that if he really stops to think about it, he's fonder of the thought of his first year at Oxford being about his mates and school than about a bird and school.
Natalie, however, doesn't really seem to think his opinion on the matter should count for anything, merely laughs when Scripps tells her he didn't truly desire a girlfriend the first week at Oxford.
He gets an over-the-top congratulations card signed from the Cambridge lot, and Dakin spends a couple of days switching between staring at Scripps and Natalie in confusion and shooting Scripps looks that are equally approving and insinuating.
Surprisingly, however, being with Natalie turns out to not make much of a difference in anything. In a lot of ways, being with Natalie is a lot like being with one of the boys.
They talk a lot of history, both personal and of the world's, even though Natalie's studying Classics and English. Natalie knows a surprising amount of incredibly dirty pub songs, worse even than the ones Timms and Lockwood would delight in singing, which she seems to enjoy bringing up for no other reason than trying to see if she can make him blush. On evenings when Scripps has work to be done, Natalie will lie on the rug in his room and read the occasional paragraph aloud from the books she's reading for her own classes.
They never actually kiss, or do much more than lie together on the grass outside the dorms, her head rested on his stomach.
As first experiences of Oxford go, Scripps thinks his is not so bad.
*
Scripps doesn't really realize until the seventh week in that he hasn't heard anything from Posner at all since Natalie decided to become part of his life.
He'd meant to send off a letter or phone, but in the chaos of settling in, getting comfortable, the confusion of realizing that Natalie desired no further progress in their relationship, and in the new experiences that Oxford offers, it wouldn't be a stretch to suppose that he simply must've forgotten. It would've been a perfectly plausible excuse anyhow, had it not been for the fact that he has heard from everyone else. Posner's the only one who seems to have disappeared completely.
Perhaps he's finding it more difficult to settle in than the rest of them, Scripps thinks, because by the very nature of the various personality traits that Posner had considered a hindrance to fitting in, he'd always been well shy.
If it wasn't for Dakin one year suddenly deciding to take Posner under his wing, in order to further impress Fiona, Scripps isn't sure he'd ever have heard him speak at all. Certainly Posner would never have worked so hard to finish along with the rest of them if he hadn't already been part of the group and so desperate to please Dakin in any way possible.
No one had told him that Dakin had been a bit upset that his 'proper' friends had taken so well to the boy he'd brought into the gang on what he'd considered on a purely temporary basis, but while Dakin would undeniably be considered their little group's leader back in Sheffield, he hardly had control, and the rest of them had grown attached.
Now though, they've all split up to different colleges, and left Posner to fend for himself again. Except that's not really true, is it? Akthar's at the same college, after all, and Scripps, Dakin and Rudge are practically just down the road.
Maybe he'd just expected that Posner would still be trying to hang around Dakin as much as possible, and this complete and utter silence has put him slightly off balance.
Before he forgets, and because it's morning and he's got an entire day of classes ahead of him, Scripps sends off a letter to Pos, a simple 'The wild creatures of Oxford haven't swallowed you whole, have they?'
'No,' comes the reply the very next day. 'Why? Were they supposed to?'
Absurdly, it makes Scripps smile for the entire day, prompting comments from Natalie that are easily fended off, and the next morning he replies with, 'No, but there'd been no word at all, hence the need to ask.'
In that case, I must repeat the wise words of Mark Twain and inform you that the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.'
"What do you say," Scripps asks Dakin, as they meet up for lunch. "Should we go give Akthar and Posner a visit this weekend?"
Dakin gives him a look. "They're right down the road, why should we need to make a deal of visiting them at all? We can pop down whenever, it's barely a fifteen minute walk."
"I've barely heard a peep from Posner," Scripps says, "or seen Akthar for that matter."
"I saw Akthar the other week, he told me to say hello. " Dakin says, his eyes starting to track the progress of a girl Scripps thinks is in one of his classes. "Pleasantries exchanged, let us focus instead on the incredibly intriguing student body that surrounds us."
"Forget I said anything," Scripps says, "I'll go on my own."
"Now explain this to me," Dakin says, his finger pointing at Scripps. "Wasn't your deal that you were celibate only in order to increase your luck to get in to this place? Well, now you're here, you've even got a great looking bird, so why aren't you off every chance you get with her?"
"I wasn't fucking celibate because I thought it'd help my chances at Oxford, you arse." Scripps says, fighting against the urge to roll his eyes, and the urge to tell Dakin he's considering telling Natalie they're over. "It's for me as much as my faith."
"So what, you're going to wait for your wedding day?" Dakin laughs. "What complete and utter bollocks. All that is ever going to give you is the realization that you've wasted a good deal of your life not doing something that makes you feel so incredible."
"I don't see how you'd know," Scripps points out, "As far as I remember, you never quite actually managed to finish the deal completely, so to speak, with Fiona." Or with Irwin, Scripps doesn't say, because he'd intended the remark to shut Dakin up, not to start a fight.
Dakin scowls and shrugs. "At least I know what a wank and a blowjob feels like, which is more than I can say for you," he says, grin slowly spreading across his face. "Not to mention I've at least got the option to go and find out right now."
With that, he's up and going after the girl, leaving Scripps sitting behind rolling his eyes, as per usual.
*
Scripps goes to Posner's room first and stands there for five minutes before deciding that Posner really isn't in. He hasn't a clue where to start looking for Posner, so he goes to Akthar's.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Akthar asks, eyebrows climbing. "Did you get lost?"
"I don't think they'd accepted me in if all it took was a couple of street turns to get me confused," Scripps says, "I was wondering if you and Posner wanted to go grab a drink or a bite, but Posner's not in his room."
"Sure," Akthar says, "I've got no place I need to be. I even know where Pos is likely to be."
"Yeah?"
Akthar nods. "He's been making fast friends with this Archaeology and Anthropology guy, who’s got some sort of weird Buddhist thing going. They'll probably be down by the river. Haven't really seen much of him since they became attached at the hip."
"Good he's not shut in," Scripps says, "I hadn't really heard from him since we started, I was thinking he might've gone back to his old ways."
"Nah, we seem to have cured him of that. Never seen Pos as forward as when he started talking to this guy," Akthar says, grinning. "I think Oxford's agreeing with him, being able to be seen as someone else other than just the guy with a crush on Dakin."
"It's not all we thought of him," Scripps defends, and Akthar shrugs.
"We both know that, but it was enough to count," he says, pulling on a jacket. "No one here knows that Posner, they aren't even aware that Posner even exists. It's new for him, so he's trying to be something else, see if it makes him feel better."
"Did you change to Psychology when the rest of us weren't looking?"
"Shut up," Akthar laughs, "You'll see what I mean soon enough."
*
They do indeed find Posner sitting by the river with a guy whose blonde hair is tied back and is strumming what seems to be random notes on an acoustic guitar.
"Scripps! Akthar!" Posner calls, catching sight of them. His jacket is lying rumpled on the grass next to him, and his T-shirt looks too big for his frame. It's not one Scripps recognizes. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought I'd hear if you wanted something to eat," Scripps says, "It's been a while."
"Oh," Posner's face falls a little, "You should've told you were coming. We had an early lunch, sorry."
"Next time, then," Scripps says, masking his disappointment. "I'll warn ahead of time."
"You could join us here after, if you want," the guy says, leaning back on his elbows. "We're just going over some music, David's got a good voice, and everyone's musical in one way or another. I'm Mark Elcock, by the way."
"Don Scripps." Scripps says, "I've already found that my musical talent doesn't stretch much further than the piano."
"Nice," Elcock says, "I'm more of a guitar guy. Easier to travel and share my music with a guitar than with a piano, but not as easy as a voice. It's a shame that Posner's voice is so much better suited for the keys of a piano than the strings of a guitar."
Surprisingly, considering Posner's sung his desire for Dakin in front of all their mates, without even hinting towards being anything but comfortable with the situation, the last comment makes him blush. Scripps stares a little in surprise, before he catches himself, and merely files it away for future inspection.
"Still Akthar," Akthar says, "I'll have to decline the offer, as my musical talent is best left private knowledge."
"I've got to get back after," Scripps says, "but maybe some other time."
Elcock shrugs. "Don't worry about it."
"We'll meet up some day soon," Posner says, looking apologetic. "Schedule ahead of time."
"Of course," Scripps says, nodding. "We'll talk."
*
"I wasn't aware his schedule would become so busy at university," Scripps says.
Akthar grins. "Like I said, they're inseparable. Got his attention by reciting some poem or other by Gary Snyder aloud by the entrance to the dorm hall, must have been not too long after you got together with Natalie. Posner paused to tell him he had a good voice, and I don't think I've seen one without the other since."
"How's this going to end then?" Scripps wonders, but Akthar can only shrug in reply.
"Important thing here," he says, "is that whatever it is, we make sure he comes from it alright. So, pub then?"
"Don't see why not."
*
Scripps does see a little more of Posner after that though, but things between them aren't the same. For one thing, their Saturday lunches seem to be mostly a filler in Posner's day -- it turns out to be a rare Saturday indeed when Posner actually sticks around after lunch. Instead he wishes Scripps a good day, and heads off towards the river, towards Elcock.
"So what's the story between you two?" Scripps asks, the third time they're out.
"Why should there be a story at all?" Posner asks, "Mark's interesting."
"That much I figured," Scripps agrees, "But perhaps it is as it was with Dakin, something I won't quite ever understand."
Posner looks at him for a long moment, before he nods, slowly. "Perhaps you're making it harder to understand than it has to be," he answers, "My feelings for Dakin felt real for so long, I think I might've forgotten how to feel anything else. Our poetry with Hector focused on love in all forms -- unrequited love, unconditional love, forbidden love, unexpected love, love for country and for others -- but Mark's poets, the ones he likes, that's hardly ever their focus. It's different and refreshing, like being handed a cold glass of water in the late summer sun without asking for it."
He smiles at Scripps, his expression willing Scripps to get it, to understand, only Scripps can't -- the only love he's had to come face to face with so far is his love for God.
"I hear Timms got himself a girl," Scripps says instead, "According to Crowther, she's quite the looker."
"Wouldn't that be something," Posner says, "If Timms reaches the ultimate objective before Dakin perfects his final push?"
"It doesn't bother you anymore, then? Dakin, that is?"
"I haven't seen him in months," Posner shrugs, "Although I did think of him in the beginning, wondering why getting in to Oxford had not changed his opinion of me any. Then Mark made me realize, if I'd kept to that path, I'd never make it through the next couple of years with my sanity in tact." It goes quiet between them for a while, Scripps staring down at his cup of coffee, unsure of what to say to that, and Posner looking out the window. Suddenly, he clears his throat and says, overly cheerful, "How's it going, by the way, with you and Natalie?"
"I'm not entirely sure it is going," Scripps says honestly, "Or ever did."
"What do you mean?"
"Natalie's not like Dakin's girls," Scripps decides upon after a moment, "I'm not entirely sure what she thinks of our relationship."
"But at least it is a relationship," Posner says, and smiles the sad sort of smile that Scripps has always hated. "At least you have that."
Scripps isn't sure why it's so hard to tell Posner that he suspects Natalie's got as much interest in him sexually as she does a sack of potatoes. Perhaps because it would invariably prompt the question of whether or not he finds her sexually attractive, and even though Scripps has had weeks of smelling her perfume, feeling her warm weight against his side or the feel of her hair against his fingers, and even longer spent in sexual frustration, he doesn't actually have any easy answer to give.
"Yeah," he says at last, "I suppose so."
*
"Well, I think this Mark fellow comes as quite a relief," Dakin announces as the subject of Posner comes up while they're eating lunch.
"A relief?" Scripps asks.
"Sure," Dakin says, "If Posner's got a guy so good he's apparently making him forget about everyone, then clearly I don't have to worry about breaking his heart anymore, do I?"
"Well, I don't think it's quite that kind of relationship," Scripps says, "For Posner's sake, I hope he didn't jump directly from you to some random guy he only met by chance outside the dorm rooms."
"My bad," Dakin says, giving him an odd look. "Though I still say it's better him than me. This guy though, did he look Spanish to you?"
"What?" Scripps asks, frowning. "Not particularly that I can remember, why?"
"I was just wondering if his name is actually Elcock, or if that's just a nickname he gave himself 'cause he thinks he has a big cock," Dakin says, taking one look at Scripps's face and laughing loud enough to attract the attention of the surrounding tables.
*
"What I don't get," Lockwood says, as they stand outside the railway station in Sheffield in order for him to have a smoke before their trains back after the holidays leave. "What I don't get is why on Earth you're still celibate if you've got a girl as hot as Dakin says she is."
"Because unlike Dakin, I don't actually spend the better part of my day thinking solely about sex."
Lockwood laughs. "You're a celibate teenage boy in college with a hot girl, I should've thought it was all you ever thought about."
Scripps rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably as he says, "Those jokes never get old."
"Fine, let's change the topic then," Lockwood says, taking a drag off his fag. "What's the story with Pos and this Big Cock guy?"
"Fuck's sake," Scripps says, rubbing at his temple. "His name's Elcock, not Big Cock."
"Same thing," Lockwood shrugs, and when Scripps glances at him, there's laughter in his eyes.
"I don't really know what the exact story is," Scripps admits. "Pos says they're just hanging out, but from what Akthar says and what I can tell, there's not a lot of hours outside of classes they don't spend together. If I'm lucky, he manages to find time for lunch once a week."
Lockwood gives him a look, not replying until he's finished off his cigarette. "So it's like that, then."
"Like what?" Scripps asks, although he's not sure he wants to know.
Lockwood shrugs. "None of my business," he says, heading back inside. "Could be wrong anyhow."
*
"Posner," Scripps says, opening his door wider in surprise. They'd only said goodbye an hour ago at the railway station, and he'd expected not to hear much more from him for another week. "What are you doing here?"
"Don, who is it?" Natalie asks, poking her up over the back of his couch. "Oh, hi, Posner!"
Posner looks small, confused and a little lost, like he's not entirely sure himself why he's standing outside of Scripps's dorm room. His eyes flicker from Scripps to Natalie to some point over Scripps's right shoulder. "Is this a bad time?"
"No," Scripps says immediately, stepping aside. "Come on in."
"I was just leaving anyway," Natalie says, swinging up from the couch and picking up her bag in one, fluid motion. "Later, Scrippsy. I hope to see you again soon, Posner."
He settles Posner down on the couch as the door swings closed behind Natalie, leaving him there in order to put on the kettle, and opening the packet of biscuits that Natalie had brought with her but never actually got around to eating. Posner sits in absolute silence, staring at a point on the wall.
Once the tea is on the table, Posner says without infliction, "Mark's gone to Japan."
"Japan?"
Posner nods. "He decided he wanted to study Buddhism at its source," he says, "So he left during the break, without so much as a goodbye. I went by his dorm when he didn't meet me as planned, and his mates were laughing as they told me he'd gone."
"David," Scripps says, putting his tea down. "I'm so sorry."
"Am I really so unimportant that leaving me behind costs not an extra thought at all, not even from someone who spent more hours than I can count in my company?" Pos asks, staring down in his tea as though an answer will come from it.
"Pos, you can't believe that, you're plenty important," Scripps says, "You must know it isn't true."
"It didn't stop you from forgetting the moment you had a girl," Posner points out, quietly accusing.
"Pos, I'm so sorry about that," Scripps says, "I got lost a little, in college as a whole. It doesn't excuse it, but it was never you. I never did it deliberately."
"I know, Don," Posner says, "I'm not mad, really, I know what those first weeks were like. At the time, it just...it still hurt."
"I'm sorry," Scripps says again, "And I promise that I will make it up to you, but about Elcock -- he's only one guy. You cannot think all your relationships will end like that."
Posner gives him a look, almost insulted, and snorts. "It wasn't a relationship, no matter what people think, it was never that." He says, "I know he looked at me mostly as a silly little puppy, and I know his friends laughed at me, the stupid kid who hung on his every word. I'm used to that though, and it didn't matter, because whatever they thought, it was never like that and because he -- he still invited me down to the river or gave me books he thought I should read. He didn't care. He even told me it’s what they'd assume once we'd started, but it didn't -- didn't matter."
"Started what?"
Incredibly, Posner blushes. "Mark was interested in Buddhism, and when I told him I liked the poems he were reading, he told me I should sit with him sometime. That's really all we did. We sat. He'd bring his guitar sometimes, and I'd sing. Maybe you're right, maybe I didn't actually know him that well, because as much time we spent together, it's rare we would actually talk."
"You're practicing Buddhism now?" Scripps asks, surprised.
"No," Posner says, "But I preferred sitting with Mark than being in my room alone, mooning after Dakin. It -- it gave me comfort and it helped me realize a lot of things; I guess I was fooling myself to think it gave him something to."
"Pos," Scripps says, doesn't know what to offer. "I'm sure Mark thought --"
"I'm not sure what Mark thought," Posner says, and though his words are clipped, the defeated tone in his voice removes the bite. "I can't imagine you do."
"Stay here for the night," Scripps offers after the silence stretches, "Maybe something will change in the morning."
*
Things don't change in the morning, other than that Posner doesn't leave Scripps's room. He's on the couch when Scripps leaves, and still there when he goes back during lunch. From the look of things, he hasn't moved at all. Scripps leaves again without waking him.
"Poor thing," Natalie says, as he meets up with her outside of their next class. "I don't get how anyone can look at that face and have the heart to screw him over."
"Posner's got a spaniel heart that's been through the wringer twice," Scripps says, "I think no one's really aware of how easily bruised that heart is."
"Oh, Scrippsy," Natalie says, petting his hair. "If you want, I'll cover for you with the professors. You and Posner should go do something, even if it is just talk."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," she says, "I think you both might need it. Now go quickly, before you accidentally run into one of them in the halls."
"You're amazing," Scripps tells her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, and she smiles at him, expression tinged with something Scripps can't quite identify.
He'll ask her about it later, he decides, and hurries back up to his room.
"You didn't have to do this, you know," Posner says, as they head off campus half an hour later, and Scripps shoots him a look.
"I kind of do," Scripps says, "You were right last night -- I've been a crap mate lately. So, it's time for me to make things right -- starting with a proper lunch."
"In that case, thank you," Posner says, and Scripps slings his arm companionably around Posner's shoulders.
"My pleasure."
*
It's a sunny Saturday afternoon that finds the old Oxbridge set back together; Timms, Lockwood and Crowther having made the journey down from Cambridge for a visit. They're on the football field down from Magdalen College, got there early enough that they managed to secure two of the goals for themselves, and it's as vicious a match as always between them -- which is to say, they're either going for each other's kneecaps in a tackle or letting the ball roll past them as they laugh.
Posner's the only one not playing as he'd come down with a Spring cold, but while it might have stopped him from participating, it hasn't stopped him from sitting on the sidelines, cheering them on in between bouts of coughing. He looks comical, sitting there in his scarf and curling in on himself whenever there's a gust of wind, while the rest of them are complaining about this freak February heat wave, stripped to their t-shirts and drenched in sweat.
In his place they've got Natalie, who'd tagged along without asking permission, and wormed her way into being accepted by turning out to be a serious asset to the team. She's fast, and the fact that she's a girl means that they're all a little wary of crashing into her too hard, a qualm she most definitely doesn't return.
They've been at it for quite a while when Natalie tells Timms a joke so lewd it makes him fall over laughing, taking Lockwood and Rudge with him; and Scripps uses the moment for a well deserved break, jogging up to where Posner's sitting, Walden open on his lap.
"Aren't we interesting enough for you?" Scripps asks, grabbing his towel and running it quickly through his hair and over his face.
"You move too fast," Posner complains; his voice scratchy from a sore throat, "I can't really keep up."
"If you're feeling this ill, you shouldn't be out in the first place," Scripps says, frowning. "You'll only get worse, you know."
"I don't feel that bad," Posner says, although his eyes flick away, "Just not quite back in shape to be running around, kicking a ball. Certainly not the way you play."
"We're not that bad," Scripps says, although from the sound of the cursing behind him, a scuffle's broken out. "But I suppose you agree more with, 'To read well, that is, to read true books in a true spirit, is a noble exercise, and one that will task the reader more than any exercise which the customs of the day esteem. It requires a training such as the athletes underwent, the steady intention almost of the whole life to this object. Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they are written.'"
Posner smiles at him, the shade of it pleased as though the words are Scripps's own and not from the very book he's reading. "You don't?"
"I never said that at all," Scripps says, but before he can add anything more, Posner breaks out into another hacking cough. "Pos, c'mon, you shouldn't be out here when you're sick, even if the day is uncommonly warm. The game is practically done anyway, I'll go back with you."
Posner frowns, clearly not pleased, but before he can protest, Scripps goes over to the others to tell them they're leaving.
"You want me to come with?" Natalie suggests, but her attention is mostly on the ball she's passing back and forth between her legs.
"Nah, it's fine," Scripps says, "You should enjoy the rest of the game, we'll meet up with you guys later for dinner."
"You're sweet," Natalie says, leaning in to peck his cheek, before she kicks the ball at Dakin, getting him in the shin. She's got that same expression she had two weeks ago when Elcock disappeared, less hidden now, but Scripps is still no closer to figuring it out.
"Treat her like the lady she is," Scripps tells the others, grinning when Timms scoffs and says, "I'm more of a lady than she is."
"Go get Pos back before he dies," Lockwood says, clapping him on the shoulder. "I've seen photos of plague victims looking healthier than him."
Scripps gives a nod and trots back to where Posner's packed their stuff together and is waiting. "You don't have to leave," Posner says, but his tone isn't convincing at all. "I don't mind going back alone."
"Pos, what are friends for?" Scripps asks, and something flashes across Posner's face -- an expression Scripps does recognize, 'cause he's seen it before, whenever Dakin got a bit too cruel with his words in putting Posner down. It's probably nothing, Scripps decides and he nudges Posner's shoulder with his own, grinning.
Posner smiles back, and behind them Scripps can hear Crowther shouting that that was a fucking foul, you knob; but it feels kind of distant.
*
"You are too good a person, Don," Natalie says, poking his calf with her toe. Scripps lets out a small hiss of pain, muscles still a little sore from spending the weekend biking with Posner -- his original idea, except Posner had truly been taken with it -- and makes a questioning noise. "You put up with me for months without wanting an explanation or asking questions about why our relationship never went anywhere," she continues, "I don't know many guys who would do that, stay in a relationship that you surely must've considered to suck."
"I didn't," Scripps says, confused. "What's this about, Natalie?"
"I owe you an explanation, Don," Natalie says, sitting down on the couch by his legs. "I've been such a selfish fool, because I haven't been honest with you about why I was so insistent we'd get together, then set up our boundaries far from where a relationship should be."
"Natalie..."
"Let me talk," Natalie tells him, "I'm not proud of it, but I'd just found out my ex had found someone else when I ran into you and I was just itching for revenge. You were so sweet with helping me pick up my papers, and I knew she was watching --"
"She?"
"-- so I decided to show her how much it hurt," Natalie continues, ignoring him. "I kept meaning to tell you the truth, to come clean, but you didn't expect anything from me. You're sweet and good and it didn't hurt so much, being able to come here and just hang, without any expectations. I should have realized why you were like that, that it was more than your faith, but I didn't, not really, until Elcock left."
"What's Elcock got to do with any of this? I have no idea what's going on," Scripps says, "You're -- breaking up with me?"
"No," Natalie says, "That's the whole point. Our relationship might've had the title of boyfriend and girlfriend, but really, we were never more than friends. I'd like to keep being friends, only without pretending like there's more to it than that. It's not fair, to you or me or anyone."
"Okay," Scripps says, and when Natalie's eyebrows climb, he adds, "Uh, thanks for being honest?"
"Seriously?" Natalie says, "I mean, I knew you wouldn't be torn apart, but that's all you have to say?"
"I don't know what to say," Scripps says, trying to chose his words carefully, "I guess I'm in shock."
"Jesus Christ, I think a Psychology student should come have a look at you, Don Scripps, for a thesis on denial," Natalie tells him with a slap to Scripps's sore calf muscle, before she stands. "My advice is to use your Oxford-grade brain for something other than studying history, and make your own instead."
"Natalie --"
"Bye, Scrippsy," Natalie says as she heads out the door, "I'm sure the proper response will occur to you in not too long."
Scripps lies on the couch, thinking as Natalie's words spin around and around in his head, and he's not sure for how long he stays like that, just that eventually there's a knock on the door and Posner's voice calls out, "Scripps, are you in?"
"Yeah," Scripps says, "On the couch."
"Why are you in the dark?"
"I didn't feel like moving," Scripps says, swinging upright on the couch. Posner's hovering in the doorway, the light from the hall outlining his silhouette. "You can turn the light on."
"Right," Posner says, and Scripps has to spend a few moments blinking as his eyes adjust.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh," Posner says, "Uhm, I have those gloves you let me borrow. I forgot to give them back, and I wanted to get them to you before your dinner with Natalie tonight. I'll get out of your hair again."
"No need," Scripps says, shrugging. "Dinner got cancelled."
"Why?" Posner asks, coming further into the room. He places the gloves on Scripps's sorry excuse for a coffee table, settling down in the space Natalie had been sitting earlier.
"Natalie broke it off," Scripps says, "Or, according to her, there never really was anything to truly break off in the first place."
"But you were going out for months!" Posner exclaims, "How can she say that?"
"She's right though," Scripps says, "It was a sham. We never actually kissed or did anything couples should do. We were never really anything but friends."
"But you told everyone you were a couple," Posner says, confused. "I thought you --"
"Pos," Scripps says quietly, and Posner's mouth snaps shut at once. "I made my decision for celibacy as soon as any sexual interest at all decided to make itself known, shoving all those kinds of thoughts into a nice little box in my mind that I never let myself look at. When Natalie told me we'd be a couple, I went along with it without question because she didn't pressure me to look at that box at all. She didn't want anything from me, except as a friend, and I was so relieved that I could keep on without having to take a real look at that box, that I didn't question or comment on the relationship at all."
"What are you saying?" Posner asks, his eyes flickering all over Scripps's face.
"I was going to break up with her," Scripps admits, "back when I'd realized what a cock I'd been by not talking to you for over a month. But then you were so busy with Elcock, I came back here and I looked at that box, and decided it'd be too painful. So I shoved it back, took Natalie out, pretended like everything was normal. But you, you weren't with Elcock and you never once went on about Dakin without me forcing the subject on, and I'd pushed that box so far back, I still didn't see. But after Natalie left, I opened the box anyway," Scripps says, "You know what I found?"
Posner shakes his head; tiny, frantic little motions that seem almost involuntary, as though he's not sure he can take it.
"You," Scripps says simply, "The box was full of my memories of you."
"Scripps," Posner says, voice low. "If you're taking the piss, I'll never speak to you again, I swear."
Scripps has never felt so scared or vulnerable, and there's a very small part of him wanting to laugh the whole thing away, even at the risk of Posner's friendship, just to protect himself; but he can't do that, never to Posner, and so he swallows down the nerves, looks up from where he's been staring at his hands and looks Posner straight in the eye as he says, "I'm not, Pos. I'm really not."
"I -- I don't know --" Posner's throat works for a moment, the motion drawing Scripps's gaze. The expression on his face is as vulnerable as Scripps feels, eyes unable to stay still, yet never leaving Scripps's face. "What is it, exactly, you want from me?"
That hadn't been a question Scripps had been expecting, and he looks at Posner, reaches up with his left hand and marvels a little as Posner rests his cheek against his palm, eyes still searching across Scripps's features, which he hopes shows absolutely everything, as he answers, "Whatever it is you're willing to give me."
"Don," Posner whispers, and laughs a little, the sound almost broken. "I'm not sure you're aware of the full extent of what you're saying."
"That's the beauty of it," Scripps says, "For once, in matters such as this, I am completely sure."
"You said once that love can be very irritating," Posner points out, although his hand has come up to circle Scripps's wrist, the touch so light, yet Scripps has to tear his focus away from it.
"I also place a great value in truth," Scripps answers, "and the great thing about that is, I'm always willing to acknowledge where I'm wrong. Love's irritating when it's unrequited and unknown. I'm hoping I'm reading the signs correct this time and that I can safely assume this is not the case for us, any longer."
"No, it's not," Posner agrees, and Scripps barely waits for him to finish with the last word before he leans forward, fitting their lips together.
In a distant corner of his mind, Scripps is aware it will be an absolute bitch to explain this to the others; but right now, with Posner's fingers trailing up the length of his arm until they're curled around his neck; he really can't find it in him to care.
Author: bergann
Fandom: The History Boys
Pairing: Posner/Scripps (platonic Scripps/OFC, Posner/OMC)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6 211
Summary: A week into Oxford, Scripps finds himself a girl.
Or rather, a girl finds Scripps.
Author’s Note: for pyrexic, who bought me in the Sweet Charity (sweetcharityvox) auction and who wanted something 'exactly like In Between Dreams only different!' & 'happy endings' & 'self-awareness-via-jealousy'. This is sort-of, hopefully, fills those criteria.
A week into Oxford, Scripps finds himself a girl.
Or rather, a girl finds Scripps.
It's pretty much an accident. At least Scripps had no intention of getting a girl, certainly not so soon, despite the joking comments he has made to the lads; and finds that if he really stops to think about it, he's fonder of the thought of his first year at Oxford being about his mates and school than about a bird and school.
Natalie, however, doesn't really seem to think his opinion on the matter should count for anything, merely laughs when Scripps tells her he didn't truly desire a girlfriend the first week at Oxford.
He gets an over-the-top congratulations card signed from the Cambridge lot, and Dakin spends a couple of days switching between staring at Scripps and Natalie in confusion and shooting Scripps looks that are equally approving and insinuating.
Surprisingly, however, being with Natalie turns out to not make much of a difference in anything. In a lot of ways, being with Natalie is a lot like being with one of the boys.
They talk a lot of history, both personal and of the world's, even though Natalie's studying Classics and English. Natalie knows a surprising amount of incredibly dirty pub songs, worse even than the ones Timms and Lockwood would delight in singing, which she seems to enjoy bringing up for no other reason than trying to see if she can make him blush. On evenings when Scripps has work to be done, Natalie will lie on the rug in his room and read the occasional paragraph aloud from the books she's reading for her own classes.
They never actually kiss, or do much more than lie together on the grass outside the dorms, her head rested on his stomach.
As first experiences of Oxford go, Scripps thinks his is not so bad.
*
Scripps doesn't really realize until the seventh week in that he hasn't heard anything from Posner at all since Natalie decided to become part of his life.
He'd meant to send off a letter or phone, but in the chaos of settling in, getting comfortable, the confusion of realizing that Natalie desired no further progress in their relationship, and in the new experiences that Oxford offers, it wouldn't be a stretch to suppose that he simply must've forgotten. It would've been a perfectly plausible excuse anyhow, had it not been for the fact that he has heard from everyone else. Posner's the only one who seems to have disappeared completely.
Perhaps he's finding it more difficult to settle in than the rest of them, Scripps thinks, because by the very nature of the various personality traits that Posner had considered a hindrance to fitting in, he'd always been well shy.
If it wasn't for Dakin one year suddenly deciding to take Posner under his wing, in order to further impress Fiona, Scripps isn't sure he'd ever have heard him speak at all. Certainly Posner would never have worked so hard to finish along with the rest of them if he hadn't already been part of the group and so desperate to please Dakin in any way possible.
No one had told him that Dakin had been a bit upset that his 'proper' friends had taken so well to the boy he'd brought into the gang on what he'd considered on a purely temporary basis, but while Dakin would undeniably be considered their little group's leader back in Sheffield, he hardly had control, and the rest of them had grown attached.
Now though, they've all split up to different colleges, and left Posner to fend for himself again. Except that's not really true, is it? Akthar's at the same college, after all, and Scripps, Dakin and Rudge are practically just down the road.
Maybe he'd just expected that Posner would still be trying to hang around Dakin as much as possible, and this complete and utter silence has put him slightly off balance.
Before he forgets, and because it's morning and he's got an entire day of classes ahead of him, Scripps sends off a letter to Pos, a simple 'The wild creatures of Oxford haven't swallowed you whole, have they?'
'No,' comes the reply the very next day. 'Why? Were they supposed to?'
Absurdly, it makes Scripps smile for the entire day, prompting comments from Natalie that are easily fended off, and the next morning he replies with, 'No, but there'd been no word at all, hence the need to ask.'
In that case, I must repeat the wise words of Mark Twain and inform you that the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.'
"What do you say," Scripps asks Dakin, as they meet up for lunch. "Should we go give Akthar and Posner a visit this weekend?"
Dakin gives him a look. "They're right down the road, why should we need to make a deal of visiting them at all? We can pop down whenever, it's barely a fifteen minute walk."
"I've barely heard a peep from Posner," Scripps says, "or seen Akthar for that matter."
"I saw Akthar the other week, he told me to say hello. " Dakin says, his eyes starting to track the progress of a girl Scripps thinks is in one of his classes. "Pleasantries exchanged, let us focus instead on the incredibly intriguing student body that surrounds us."
"Forget I said anything," Scripps says, "I'll go on my own."
"Now explain this to me," Dakin says, his finger pointing at Scripps. "Wasn't your deal that you were celibate only in order to increase your luck to get in to this place? Well, now you're here, you've even got a great looking bird, so why aren't you off every chance you get with her?"
"I wasn't fucking celibate because I thought it'd help my chances at Oxford, you arse." Scripps says, fighting against the urge to roll his eyes, and the urge to tell Dakin he's considering telling Natalie they're over. "It's for me as much as my faith."
"So what, you're going to wait for your wedding day?" Dakin laughs. "What complete and utter bollocks. All that is ever going to give you is the realization that you've wasted a good deal of your life not doing something that makes you feel so incredible."
"I don't see how you'd know," Scripps points out, "As far as I remember, you never quite actually managed to finish the deal completely, so to speak, with Fiona." Or with Irwin, Scripps doesn't say, because he'd intended the remark to shut Dakin up, not to start a fight.
Dakin scowls and shrugs. "At least I know what a wank and a blowjob feels like, which is more than I can say for you," he says, grin slowly spreading across his face. "Not to mention I've at least got the option to go and find out right now."
With that, he's up and going after the girl, leaving Scripps sitting behind rolling his eyes, as per usual.
*
Scripps goes to Posner's room first and stands there for five minutes before deciding that Posner really isn't in. He hasn't a clue where to start looking for Posner, so he goes to Akthar's.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Akthar asks, eyebrows climbing. "Did you get lost?"
"I don't think they'd accepted me in if all it took was a couple of street turns to get me confused," Scripps says, "I was wondering if you and Posner wanted to go grab a drink or a bite, but Posner's not in his room."
"Sure," Akthar says, "I've got no place I need to be. I even know where Pos is likely to be."
"Yeah?"
Akthar nods. "He's been making fast friends with this Archaeology and Anthropology guy, who’s got some sort of weird Buddhist thing going. They'll probably be down by the river. Haven't really seen much of him since they became attached at the hip."
"Good he's not shut in," Scripps says, "I hadn't really heard from him since we started, I was thinking he might've gone back to his old ways."
"Nah, we seem to have cured him of that. Never seen Pos as forward as when he started talking to this guy," Akthar says, grinning. "I think Oxford's agreeing with him, being able to be seen as someone else other than just the guy with a crush on Dakin."
"It's not all we thought of him," Scripps defends, and Akthar shrugs.
"We both know that, but it was enough to count," he says, pulling on a jacket. "No one here knows that Posner, they aren't even aware that Posner even exists. It's new for him, so he's trying to be something else, see if it makes him feel better."
"Did you change to Psychology when the rest of us weren't looking?"
"Shut up," Akthar laughs, "You'll see what I mean soon enough."
*
They do indeed find Posner sitting by the river with a guy whose blonde hair is tied back and is strumming what seems to be random notes on an acoustic guitar.
"Scripps! Akthar!" Posner calls, catching sight of them. His jacket is lying rumpled on the grass next to him, and his T-shirt looks too big for his frame. It's not one Scripps recognizes. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought I'd hear if you wanted something to eat," Scripps says, "It's been a while."
"Oh," Posner's face falls a little, "You should've told you were coming. We had an early lunch, sorry."
"Next time, then," Scripps says, masking his disappointment. "I'll warn ahead of time."
"You could join us here after, if you want," the guy says, leaning back on his elbows. "We're just going over some music, David's got a good voice, and everyone's musical in one way or another. I'm Mark Elcock, by the way."
"Don Scripps." Scripps says, "I've already found that my musical talent doesn't stretch much further than the piano."
"Nice," Elcock says, "I'm more of a guitar guy. Easier to travel and share my music with a guitar than with a piano, but not as easy as a voice. It's a shame that Posner's voice is so much better suited for the keys of a piano than the strings of a guitar."
Surprisingly, considering Posner's sung his desire for Dakin in front of all their mates, without even hinting towards being anything but comfortable with the situation, the last comment makes him blush. Scripps stares a little in surprise, before he catches himself, and merely files it away for future inspection.
"Still Akthar," Akthar says, "I'll have to decline the offer, as my musical talent is best left private knowledge."
"I've got to get back after," Scripps says, "but maybe some other time."
Elcock shrugs. "Don't worry about it."
"We'll meet up some day soon," Posner says, looking apologetic. "Schedule ahead of time."
"Of course," Scripps says, nodding. "We'll talk."
*
"I wasn't aware his schedule would become so busy at university," Scripps says.
Akthar grins. "Like I said, they're inseparable. Got his attention by reciting some poem or other by Gary Snyder aloud by the entrance to the dorm hall, must have been not too long after you got together with Natalie. Posner paused to tell him he had a good voice, and I don't think I've seen one without the other since."
"How's this going to end then?" Scripps wonders, but Akthar can only shrug in reply.
"Important thing here," he says, "is that whatever it is, we make sure he comes from it alright. So, pub then?"
"Don't see why not."
*
Scripps does see a little more of Posner after that though, but things between them aren't the same. For one thing, their Saturday lunches seem to be mostly a filler in Posner's day -- it turns out to be a rare Saturday indeed when Posner actually sticks around after lunch. Instead he wishes Scripps a good day, and heads off towards the river, towards Elcock.
"So what's the story between you two?" Scripps asks, the third time they're out.
"Why should there be a story at all?" Posner asks, "Mark's interesting."
"That much I figured," Scripps agrees, "But perhaps it is as it was with Dakin, something I won't quite ever understand."
Posner looks at him for a long moment, before he nods, slowly. "Perhaps you're making it harder to understand than it has to be," he answers, "My feelings for Dakin felt real for so long, I think I might've forgotten how to feel anything else. Our poetry with Hector focused on love in all forms -- unrequited love, unconditional love, forbidden love, unexpected love, love for country and for others -- but Mark's poets, the ones he likes, that's hardly ever their focus. It's different and refreshing, like being handed a cold glass of water in the late summer sun without asking for it."
He smiles at Scripps, his expression willing Scripps to get it, to understand, only Scripps can't -- the only love he's had to come face to face with so far is his love for God.
"I hear Timms got himself a girl," Scripps says instead, "According to Crowther, she's quite the looker."
"Wouldn't that be something," Posner says, "If Timms reaches the ultimate objective before Dakin perfects his final push?"
"It doesn't bother you anymore, then? Dakin, that is?"
"I haven't seen him in months," Posner shrugs, "Although I did think of him in the beginning, wondering why getting in to Oxford had not changed his opinion of me any. Then Mark made me realize, if I'd kept to that path, I'd never make it through the next couple of years with my sanity in tact." It goes quiet between them for a while, Scripps staring down at his cup of coffee, unsure of what to say to that, and Posner looking out the window. Suddenly, he clears his throat and says, overly cheerful, "How's it going, by the way, with you and Natalie?"
"I'm not entirely sure it is going," Scripps says honestly, "Or ever did."
"What do you mean?"
"Natalie's not like Dakin's girls," Scripps decides upon after a moment, "I'm not entirely sure what she thinks of our relationship."
"But at least it is a relationship," Posner says, and smiles the sad sort of smile that Scripps has always hated. "At least you have that."
Scripps isn't sure why it's so hard to tell Posner that he suspects Natalie's got as much interest in him sexually as she does a sack of potatoes. Perhaps because it would invariably prompt the question of whether or not he finds her sexually attractive, and even though Scripps has had weeks of smelling her perfume, feeling her warm weight against his side or the feel of her hair against his fingers, and even longer spent in sexual frustration, he doesn't actually have any easy answer to give.
"Yeah," he says at last, "I suppose so."
*
"Well, I think this Mark fellow comes as quite a relief," Dakin announces as the subject of Posner comes up while they're eating lunch.
"A relief?" Scripps asks.
"Sure," Dakin says, "If Posner's got a guy so good he's apparently making him forget about everyone, then clearly I don't have to worry about breaking his heart anymore, do I?"
"Well, I don't think it's quite that kind of relationship," Scripps says, "For Posner's sake, I hope he didn't jump directly from you to some random guy he only met by chance outside the dorm rooms."
"My bad," Dakin says, giving him an odd look. "Though I still say it's better him than me. This guy though, did he look Spanish to you?"
"What?" Scripps asks, frowning. "Not particularly that I can remember, why?"
"I was just wondering if his name is actually Elcock, or if that's just a nickname he gave himself 'cause he thinks he has a big cock," Dakin says, taking one look at Scripps's face and laughing loud enough to attract the attention of the surrounding tables.
*
"What I don't get," Lockwood says, as they stand outside the railway station in Sheffield in order for him to have a smoke before their trains back after the holidays leave. "What I don't get is why on Earth you're still celibate if you've got a girl as hot as Dakin says she is."
"Because unlike Dakin, I don't actually spend the better part of my day thinking solely about sex."
Lockwood laughs. "You're a celibate teenage boy in college with a hot girl, I should've thought it was all you ever thought about."
Scripps rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably as he says, "Those jokes never get old."
"Fine, let's change the topic then," Lockwood says, taking a drag off his fag. "What's the story with Pos and this Big Cock guy?"
"Fuck's sake," Scripps says, rubbing at his temple. "His name's Elcock, not Big Cock."
"Same thing," Lockwood shrugs, and when Scripps glances at him, there's laughter in his eyes.
"I don't really know what the exact story is," Scripps admits. "Pos says they're just hanging out, but from what Akthar says and what I can tell, there's not a lot of hours outside of classes they don't spend together. If I'm lucky, he manages to find time for lunch once a week."
Lockwood gives him a look, not replying until he's finished off his cigarette. "So it's like that, then."
"Like what?" Scripps asks, although he's not sure he wants to know.
Lockwood shrugs. "None of my business," he says, heading back inside. "Could be wrong anyhow."
*
"Posner," Scripps says, opening his door wider in surprise. They'd only said goodbye an hour ago at the railway station, and he'd expected not to hear much more from him for another week. "What are you doing here?"
"Don, who is it?" Natalie asks, poking her up over the back of his couch. "Oh, hi, Posner!"
Posner looks small, confused and a little lost, like he's not entirely sure himself why he's standing outside of Scripps's dorm room. His eyes flicker from Scripps to Natalie to some point over Scripps's right shoulder. "Is this a bad time?"
"No," Scripps says immediately, stepping aside. "Come on in."
"I was just leaving anyway," Natalie says, swinging up from the couch and picking up her bag in one, fluid motion. "Later, Scrippsy. I hope to see you again soon, Posner."
He settles Posner down on the couch as the door swings closed behind Natalie, leaving him there in order to put on the kettle, and opening the packet of biscuits that Natalie had brought with her but never actually got around to eating. Posner sits in absolute silence, staring at a point on the wall.
Once the tea is on the table, Posner says without infliction, "Mark's gone to Japan."
"Japan?"
Posner nods. "He decided he wanted to study Buddhism at its source," he says, "So he left during the break, without so much as a goodbye. I went by his dorm when he didn't meet me as planned, and his mates were laughing as they told me he'd gone."
"David," Scripps says, putting his tea down. "I'm so sorry."
"Am I really so unimportant that leaving me behind costs not an extra thought at all, not even from someone who spent more hours than I can count in my company?" Pos asks, staring down in his tea as though an answer will come from it.
"Pos, you can't believe that, you're plenty important," Scripps says, "You must know it isn't true."
"It didn't stop you from forgetting the moment you had a girl," Posner points out, quietly accusing.
"Pos, I'm so sorry about that," Scripps says, "I got lost a little, in college as a whole. It doesn't excuse it, but it was never you. I never did it deliberately."
"I know, Don," Posner says, "I'm not mad, really, I know what those first weeks were like. At the time, it just...it still hurt."
"I'm sorry," Scripps says again, "And I promise that I will make it up to you, but about Elcock -- he's only one guy. You cannot think all your relationships will end like that."
Posner gives him a look, almost insulted, and snorts. "It wasn't a relationship, no matter what people think, it was never that." He says, "I know he looked at me mostly as a silly little puppy, and I know his friends laughed at me, the stupid kid who hung on his every word. I'm used to that though, and it didn't matter, because whatever they thought, it was never like that and because he -- he still invited me down to the river or gave me books he thought I should read. He didn't care. He even told me it’s what they'd assume once we'd started, but it didn't -- didn't matter."
"Started what?"
Incredibly, Posner blushes. "Mark was interested in Buddhism, and when I told him I liked the poems he were reading, he told me I should sit with him sometime. That's really all we did. We sat. He'd bring his guitar sometimes, and I'd sing. Maybe you're right, maybe I didn't actually know him that well, because as much time we spent together, it's rare we would actually talk."
"You're practicing Buddhism now?" Scripps asks, surprised.
"No," Posner says, "But I preferred sitting with Mark than being in my room alone, mooning after Dakin. It -- it gave me comfort and it helped me realize a lot of things; I guess I was fooling myself to think it gave him something to."
"Pos," Scripps says, doesn't know what to offer. "I'm sure Mark thought --"
"I'm not sure what Mark thought," Posner says, and though his words are clipped, the defeated tone in his voice removes the bite. "I can't imagine you do."
"Stay here for the night," Scripps offers after the silence stretches, "Maybe something will change in the morning."
*
Things don't change in the morning, other than that Posner doesn't leave Scripps's room. He's on the couch when Scripps leaves, and still there when he goes back during lunch. From the look of things, he hasn't moved at all. Scripps leaves again without waking him.
"Poor thing," Natalie says, as he meets up with her outside of their next class. "I don't get how anyone can look at that face and have the heart to screw him over."
"Posner's got a spaniel heart that's been through the wringer twice," Scripps says, "I think no one's really aware of how easily bruised that heart is."
"Oh, Scrippsy," Natalie says, petting his hair. "If you want, I'll cover for you with the professors. You and Posner should go do something, even if it is just talk."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," she says, "I think you both might need it. Now go quickly, before you accidentally run into one of them in the halls."
"You're amazing," Scripps tells her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, and she smiles at him, expression tinged with something Scripps can't quite identify.
He'll ask her about it later, he decides, and hurries back up to his room.
"You didn't have to do this, you know," Posner says, as they head off campus half an hour later, and Scripps shoots him a look.
"I kind of do," Scripps says, "You were right last night -- I've been a crap mate lately. So, it's time for me to make things right -- starting with a proper lunch."
"In that case, thank you," Posner says, and Scripps slings his arm companionably around Posner's shoulders.
"My pleasure."
*
It's a sunny Saturday afternoon that finds the old Oxbridge set back together; Timms, Lockwood and Crowther having made the journey down from Cambridge for a visit. They're on the football field down from Magdalen College, got there early enough that they managed to secure two of the goals for themselves, and it's as vicious a match as always between them -- which is to say, they're either going for each other's kneecaps in a tackle or letting the ball roll past them as they laugh.
Posner's the only one not playing as he'd come down with a Spring cold, but while it might have stopped him from participating, it hasn't stopped him from sitting on the sidelines, cheering them on in between bouts of coughing. He looks comical, sitting there in his scarf and curling in on himself whenever there's a gust of wind, while the rest of them are complaining about this freak February heat wave, stripped to their t-shirts and drenched in sweat.
In his place they've got Natalie, who'd tagged along without asking permission, and wormed her way into being accepted by turning out to be a serious asset to the team. She's fast, and the fact that she's a girl means that they're all a little wary of crashing into her too hard, a qualm she most definitely doesn't return.
They've been at it for quite a while when Natalie tells Timms a joke so lewd it makes him fall over laughing, taking Lockwood and Rudge with him; and Scripps uses the moment for a well deserved break, jogging up to where Posner's sitting, Walden open on his lap.
"Aren't we interesting enough for you?" Scripps asks, grabbing his towel and running it quickly through his hair and over his face.
"You move too fast," Posner complains; his voice scratchy from a sore throat, "I can't really keep up."
"If you're feeling this ill, you shouldn't be out in the first place," Scripps says, frowning. "You'll only get worse, you know."
"I don't feel that bad," Posner says, although his eyes flick away, "Just not quite back in shape to be running around, kicking a ball. Certainly not the way you play."
"We're not that bad," Scripps says, although from the sound of the cursing behind him, a scuffle's broken out. "But I suppose you agree more with, 'To read well, that is, to read true books in a true spirit, is a noble exercise, and one that will task the reader more than any exercise which the customs of the day esteem. It requires a training such as the athletes underwent, the steady intention almost of the whole life to this object. Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they are written.'"
Posner smiles at him, the shade of it pleased as though the words are Scripps's own and not from the very book he's reading. "You don't?"
"I never said that at all," Scripps says, but before he can add anything more, Posner breaks out into another hacking cough. "Pos, c'mon, you shouldn't be out here when you're sick, even if the day is uncommonly warm. The game is practically done anyway, I'll go back with you."
Posner frowns, clearly not pleased, but before he can protest, Scripps goes over to the others to tell them they're leaving.
"You want me to come with?" Natalie suggests, but her attention is mostly on the ball she's passing back and forth between her legs.
"Nah, it's fine," Scripps says, "You should enjoy the rest of the game, we'll meet up with you guys later for dinner."
"You're sweet," Natalie says, leaning in to peck his cheek, before she kicks the ball at Dakin, getting him in the shin. She's got that same expression she had two weeks ago when Elcock disappeared, less hidden now, but Scripps is still no closer to figuring it out.
"Treat her like the lady she is," Scripps tells the others, grinning when Timms scoffs and says, "I'm more of a lady than she is."
"Go get Pos back before he dies," Lockwood says, clapping him on the shoulder. "I've seen photos of plague victims looking healthier than him."
Scripps gives a nod and trots back to where Posner's packed their stuff together and is waiting. "You don't have to leave," Posner says, but his tone isn't convincing at all. "I don't mind going back alone."
"Pos, what are friends for?" Scripps asks, and something flashes across Posner's face -- an expression Scripps does recognize, 'cause he's seen it before, whenever Dakin got a bit too cruel with his words in putting Posner down. It's probably nothing, Scripps decides and he nudges Posner's shoulder with his own, grinning.
Posner smiles back, and behind them Scripps can hear Crowther shouting that that was a fucking foul, you knob; but it feels kind of distant.
*
"You are too good a person, Don," Natalie says, poking his calf with her toe. Scripps lets out a small hiss of pain, muscles still a little sore from spending the weekend biking with Posner -- his original idea, except Posner had truly been taken with it -- and makes a questioning noise. "You put up with me for months without wanting an explanation or asking questions about why our relationship never went anywhere," she continues, "I don't know many guys who would do that, stay in a relationship that you surely must've considered to suck."
"I didn't," Scripps says, confused. "What's this about, Natalie?"
"I owe you an explanation, Don," Natalie says, sitting down on the couch by his legs. "I've been such a selfish fool, because I haven't been honest with you about why I was so insistent we'd get together, then set up our boundaries far from where a relationship should be."
"Natalie..."
"Let me talk," Natalie tells him, "I'm not proud of it, but I'd just found out my ex had found someone else when I ran into you and I was just itching for revenge. You were so sweet with helping me pick up my papers, and I knew she was watching --"
"She?"
"-- so I decided to show her how much it hurt," Natalie continues, ignoring him. "I kept meaning to tell you the truth, to come clean, but you didn't expect anything from me. You're sweet and good and it didn't hurt so much, being able to come here and just hang, without any expectations. I should have realized why you were like that, that it was more than your faith, but I didn't, not really, until Elcock left."
"What's Elcock got to do with any of this? I have no idea what's going on," Scripps says, "You're -- breaking up with me?"
"No," Natalie says, "That's the whole point. Our relationship might've had the title of boyfriend and girlfriend, but really, we were never more than friends. I'd like to keep being friends, only without pretending like there's more to it than that. It's not fair, to you or me or anyone."
"Okay," Scripps says, and when Natalie's eyebrows climb, he adds, "Uh, thanks for being honest?"
"Seriously?" Natalie says, "I mean, I knew you wouldn't be torn apart, but that's all you have to say?"
"I don't know what to say," Scripps says, trying to chose his words carefully, "I guess I'm in shock."
"Jesus Christ, I think a Psychology student should come have a look at you, Don Scripps, for a thesis on denial," Natalie tells him with a slap to Scripps's sore calf muscle, before she stands. "My advice is to use your Oxford-grade brain for something other than studying history, and make your own instead."
"Natalie --"
"Bye, Scrippsy," Natalie says as she heads out the door, "I'm sure the proper response will occur to you in not too long."
Scripps lies on the couch, thinking as Natalie's words spin around and around in his head, and he's not sure for how long he stays like that, just that eventually there's a knock on the door and Posner's voice calls out, "Scripps, are you in?"
"Yeah," Scripps says, "On the couch."
"Why are you in the dark?"
"I didn't feel like moving," Scripps says, swinging upright on the couch. Posner's hovering in the doorway, the light from the hall outlining his silhouette. "You can turn the light on."
"Right," Posner says, and Scripps has to spend a few moments blinking as his eyes adjust.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh," Posner says, "Uhm, I have those gloves you let me borrow. I forgot to give them back, and I wanted to get them to you before your dinner with Natalie tonight. I'll get out of your hair again."
"No need," Scripps says, shrugging. "Dinner got cancelled."
"Why?" Posner asks, coming further into the room. He places the gloves on Scripps's sorry excuse for a coffee table, settling down in the space Natalie had been sitting earlier.
"Natalie broke it off," Scripps says, "Or, according to her, there never really was anything to truly break off in the first place."
"But you were going out for months!" Posner exclaims, "How can she say that?"
"She's right though," Scripps says, "It was a sham. We never actually kissed or did anything couples should do. We were never really anything but friends."
"But you told everyone you were a couple," Posner says, confused. "I thought you --"
"Pos," Scripps says quietly, and Posner's mouth snaps shut at once. "I made my decision for celibacy as soon as any sexual interest at all decided to make itself known, shoving all those kinds of thoughts into a nice little box in my mind that I never let myself look at. When Natalie told me we'd be a couple, I went along with it without question because she didn't pressure me to look at that box at all. She didn't want anything from me, except as a friend, and I was so relieved that I could keep on without having to take a real look at that box, that I didn't question or comment on the relationship at all."
"What are you saying?" Posner asks, his eyes flickering all over Scripps's face.
"I was going to break up with her," Scripps admits, "back when I'd realized what a cock I'd been by not talking to you for over a month. But then you were so busy with Elcock, I came back here and I looked at that box, and decided it'd be too painful. So I shoved it back, took Natalie out, pretended like everything was normal. But you, you weren't with Elcock and you never once went on about Dakin without me forcing the subject on, and I'd pushed that box so far back, I still didn't see. But after Natalie left, I opened the box anyway," Scripps says, "You know what I found?"
Posner shakes his head; tiny, frantic little motions that seem almost involuntary, as though he's not sure he can take it.
"You," Scripps says simply, "The box was full of my memories of you."
"Scripps," Posner says, voice low. "If you're taking the piss, I'll never speak to you again, I swear."
Scripps has never felt so scared or vulnerable, and there's a very small part of him wanting to laugh the whole thing away, even at the risk of Posner's friendship, just to protect himself; but he can't do that, never to Posner, and so he swallows down the nerves, looks up from where he's been staring at his hands and looks Posner straight in the eye as he says, "I'm not, Pos. I'm really not."
"I -- I don't know --" Posner's throat works for a moment, the motion drawing Scripps's gaze. The expression on his face is as vulnerable as Scripps feels, eyes unable to stay still, yet never leaving Scripps's face. "What is it, exactly, you want from me?"
That hadn't been a question Scripps had been expecting, and he looks at Posner, reaches up with his left hand and marvels a little as Posner rests his cheek against his palm, eyes still searching across Scripps's features, which he hopes shows absolutely everything, as he answers, "Whatever it is you're willing to give me."
"Don," Posner whispers, and laughs a little, the sound almost broken. "I'm not sure you're aware of the full extent of what you're saying."
"That's the beauty of it," Scripps says, "For once, in matters such as this, I am completely sure."
"You said once that love can be very irritating," Posner points out, although his hand has come up to circle Scripps's wrist, the touch so light, yet Scripps has to tear his focus away from it.
"I also place a great value in truth," Scripps answers, "and the great thing about that is, I'm always willing to acknowledge where I'm wrong. Love's irritating when it's unrequited and unknown. I'm hoping I'm reading the signs correct this time and that I can safely assume this is not the case for us, any longer."
"No, it's not," Posner agrees, and Scripps barely waits for him to finish with the last word before he leans forward, fitting their lips together.
In a distant corner of his mind, Scripps is aware it will be an absolute bitch to explain this to the others; but right now, with Posner's fingers trailing up the length of his arm until they're curled around his neck; he really can't find it in him to care.