Two Roads Diverged, Chapter 8
Title: Two Roads Diverged (8/12)
Pairing: Cory/Shawn
Rating: This is more relationshippy than sexy, but there's some description of blow-jobs and hand-jobs, so rate that how you will.
Length: ~50,000 words over 12 chapters
Summary: Years after a falling out, Cory and Shawn reconnect in New York City and help each other through some big changes. This takes place about eight years after the end of the series, so roughly 2008-2009.
Note: My earlier BMW stand-alone fics " Idiot Savant" and " Average Boy" can be read as the backstories to this story, but you do not have to have read those to follow this one.
~~~~~~
I could do this forever, Cory thinks, I could happily wake up to this sight every morning for the rest of my days.
The sunlight is streaming in and Cory is lying on the bed, watching Shawn sleep. It's the only time he ever gets to see him at such peace. He can remember other mornings, throughout their childhood, when Shawn would stay over and Cory would wake before him, watching him sleep a bit before waking him up. It always just felt nice to have Shawn there so close beside him, as if that's where he was meant to be, all the other mornings without him the true aberration. This, today, feels right.
A memory from last night floats into his mind, Shawn writhing as Cory held him down and jerked him off agonizingly slowly, Shawn's great big mouth gasping like a hooked fish...
And another memory-kissing Shawn as if the only way to breathe was through him, tearing at him with his hands and teeth, suddenly needing to have as much of him as he could in any way possible, everything else but that need dropping at the wayside...
And then something else, more a feeling and a thought than anything detailed Cory could articulate-Shawn fucked me last night.
Cory sighs with contentment, still feeling some residual tingles of pleasure inside his belly and along the insides of his skin. He is so satisfied.
He watches Shawn's chest gently rising and falling in the sunlight. He wants to touch him and kiss him. But he's too drained. Cory doesn't think he could even lift his own arm.
I could do this forever.
Cory drifts back off to sleep again, happy.
Cory awakens to kisses on his cheek, the side of his mouth, his ear, his neck, his collarbone. Shawn is leaning over Cory's body, smiling sleepily as he places tiny, light kisses all over him. When he realizes Cory is awake, he gives him one last kiss and then rests his head on Cory's chest with a sigh.
"I'm going to remember you like this forever," Shawn says.
Cory ruffles Shawn's hair a little bit. Shawn is tracing his finger back and forth over Cory's belly and this makes Cory feel self-conscious. "Do me a favor," Cory says, "and remember me in better shape."
"No. I like you just like this. You're perfect."
"Right."
Shawn scrambles onto his knees and kisses Cory full on the mouth. "You're perfect." Then he lays back down beside him. "What do you actually like about California?"
"It's warm. Sunny. Gorgeous all the time."
"Warm and sunny and gorgeous are overrated."
"I've never once had to shovel snow."
"Eh. Builds character, right?"
"I built enough character in Philadelphia to last me a lifetime."
"I guess."
"So this Tom guy," Cory says, eager to change the subject, eager not to think about California, "he's your friend?"
"Yep."
He turns to look at Shawn's face from the side. People always look so different from this perspective. "Does that mean he was also your lover?"
"All my friends are also my lovers. What? Did you think you were something special?"
It takes Cory a second to realize Shawn is joking. Cory shoves him and Shawn laughs. Then Shawn stands up from the bed and starts to stretch. Cory's gotten more used to seeing what Shawn's body looks like these days but it still pains him a little to look at it fully displayed. And it looks ten times worse covered with the bruises and bites and hickeys that fill in the details of the night before. Cory surprised himself at being such an animal, like a thing possessed. He doesn't regret it-he feels a little aroused, actually, looking at his handiwork-but he does feel a bit guilty having been rough with what in the light of day is a very fragile-looking body. He's relieved when Shawn slips on his bathrobe.
"I have no place to be today," Shawn announces as he heads into the kitchen, Cory following like a puppy, "I'm all yours."
The apartment around them is a shambles. Lamps and end tables got knocked over last night and never put back, there are blankets and clothes all over the floor, the spaghetti dishes from last night have crusted over, a glass is broken in the sink, one of Shawn's belts hangs knotted from the knob of the bathroom door, all the shampoo and soap bottles lay in a pile along the bottom of the bathtub, both their cell phones remain where they were hastily wedged at different points when they started ringing-one between the sofa cushions, the other in the pile of coats and scarves they knocked off their pegs in one passionate tussle. Neither of them acknowledges this mess.
Shawn sets up the coffeemaker and Cory takes a seat at the bar. "I really think you should call that lawyer today," he says.
Shawn's mouth forms into a tight line as he measures out the ground coffee and dumps it in the filter basket. "I told you, we're not talking about this anymore."
"I just think it wouldn't hurt to know what your options are."
Shawn slams down the top on the coffeemaker and switches it on to brew. "Hey, you know my friend Tom?"
Cory leans forward expectantly.
"I did fuck him. A lot. We fucked each other's brains out. On a regular basis."
Cory scowls. "Why did you tell me that?"
"Because you annoyed me. And it's our last day together and you're already ruining it."
He's so dramatic sometimes. Cory decides he isn't going to respond to this and give Shawn the satisfaction of engaging in the petty argument he's angling for. He ignores him instead and Shawn stalks off to brush his teeth and shave. Cory picks the shattered glass out of the sink and puts last night's dishes under soapy water.
By the time the coffee is brewed and Shawn comes back to get a cup he seems to have gotten over his desire to pick a fight. He pours a mug for Cory and slides it across to countertop to him as a peace offering of sorts. Then he leans back against the fridge, cradling his own mug. "So, what do we do with our last day on Earth?"
"I thought I'd take you ice skating."
This is clearly not an answer Shawn has been expecting. After a surprised second, though, a smile breaks across his face. "Well, obviously."
Shawn hasn't strapped on a pair of skates since he left Philadelphia in 2000, but Cory assures him he won't have forgotten how to do it. Sure enough, after a few wobbly touch-and-go minutes, Shawn settles into a decent skating groove.
Cory's been skating much more recently-he and Josh have made it a Christmas tradition of sorts to go at least once while Cory's home visiting for the holiday. He talks about this fondly as they skate around, his mouth curving into a smile as he speaks, the way it always does when the subject is Josh.
"How old is he now?" Shawn asks.
"Nine in February."
"God, nine is a fun age."
"Yeah. Remember the first time Eric took us skating at the mall?" Cory smiles, remembering Eric struggling to teach them to stand on their skates when they both were falling over themselves trying to do jumps and flips.
"I loved when he would do stuff like that. It was like I got to have brothers."
"How's Jack doing?"
"Okay, I guess. We don't really talk much. Working for his step-dad now. His wife's a doctor."
"Wow."
"Yeah. She seems pretty cool. I wish I knew them better."
"Do you see them on the holidays?"
Shawn shrugs. "I didn't for a long time. Like I said, I was not a model guest at the wedding, so I stayed away for a while. I had Christmas dinner with them last year, which was fine, but we didn't have much to talk about. They invited me this year, but I just didn't feel like I could deal with that on top of everything else."
"My parents would love it if you spent the holidays with them sometime."
"I don't think your wife would love it."
"Topanga still cares about you. She's the one who insisted we have dinner with you tomorrow."
Shawn exhales deeply. "Yeah, can't say I'm looking forward to that."
They just glide along side by side for a while, letting the piped-in music fill the air between them. Cory finds that the rhythm of skating in long ovals around the rink is great for letting your mind wander. He thinks about the possibility of moving into film editing work. The film stuff was a dream he packed away long ago-majoring in business just seemed so much more practical and responsible. The idea of testing the waters with film again is exciting. He could always go back to insurance if he hated it. It's not like he'd accumulated any real seniority or accomplishment in insurance; he'd mostly spent all his time there starting out at a place, getting laid off, searching for another position, starting out in a new place, then getting laid off again. With this thing Shawn had worked out for him, he'd still be starting out, but at least it was something different, something he actually found interesting. God knows it had to be less soul-killing than insurance...
"I wish I could teach her to skate."
Cory looks over at Shawn, having been lost in thought, "Who?"
"Sadie."
"Oh." Cory doesn't say anything more than that, hoping to tread lightly on this subject and keep Shawn talking about it.
"It's just...you know, stupid stuff like that. Part of me really wishes I could do that."
"Mmm." Cory keeps his eyes on the ice, not wishing to seem like he's paying too much attention.
"Like Career Day. Remember when we had to do that for Turner's class? I'd like to come to her class and talk about what I do for a living. That'd be cool, right? A dad who writes kids books?"
"That'd be awesome."
"Hey, check this guy out," Shawn says, nodding toward a skater a few yards ahead of them, "King Douche."
Cory reluctantly lets this conversation drop and then laughs when he sees who Shawn's talking about. There is something very douchey about that guy. The more they watch him, the more they both start cracking up. They start laughing so much that Cory guides them to the wall so they can hang on it and work through their hysterical giggles without trying to skate at the same time. They hold onto each other and the wall, shaking with laughter, then eventually panting, trying to catch their breath. Shawn grins at Cory and Cory grins right back.
After they have composed themselves, they attempt to get back to skating. As they move back from the wall to the rink proper, someone skates up too quickly from behind and ends up knocking Cory's shoulder as they pass-it's King Douche. Of course it is.
"Hey!" Shawn yells after him, "Watch it, Douche!"
The force of the shove, though, has thrown Cory off-kilter. His arms flail for a few seconds, then he goes down, sailing on his ass into the crowd of skaters parallel to them.
"Cor!" He hears Shawn call after him. Then everything is a blurry jumble of arms and legs and mittens and pain.
When the chaos clears, Cory is lying on the ice with a pile of other skaters, staring up at the cloudless January sky. Then the sky is eclipsed by Shawn's worried face. "You okay, Cory?"
"I think so." He accepts Shawn's hands as he pulls him to his feet. "Ow!" A wave of pain shoots through Cory's thigh as he tries to stand. He starts to fall back down but Shawn catches him.
"Okay," Shawn says, "Okay. Let's just get off the ice." He wraps Cory's arm over his shoulder and carefully skate-walks him over to one of the benches outside the rink.
"Ow," Cory says as Shawn sits him down.
"Ow," Cory says as Shawn begins squeezing the bones of Cory's legs, working his way down from the top down of one then the other.
"Ow," Cory says as Shawn does the same with the bones of Cory's arms, wrists, and hands.
"Well, I don't think you broke anything," Shawn says finally.
"Ow," Cory says for no good reason.
Shawn shakes his head at him. "Baby."
He starts unlacing Cory's skates and when he has removed them both, he stands up. "I'll go get our shoes. You stay here and don't get hurt again."
Cory waits on the bench in stocking feet for what feels like an interminable amount of time. Then Shawn returns with Cory's boots, puts them on his feet for him, laces them up, then pulls Cory up onto his shoulder again. "Come on," he says, and begins marching him down the block.
"Are you taking me to a hospital?" Cory asks.
"You don't need a hospital. You are such a baby."
"Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see."
At the end of the block, Shawn walks him into a doughnut shop and sets Cory down in a booth. "Stay here and don't get hurt again," he repeats.
He returns a short while later with a dozen doughnuts and two paper cups of hot chocolate. Cory has not realized until that moment how hungry is he is.
"Shawn," he says, "You always know exactly what I need."
Shawn rolls his eyes and helps himself to a maple-glazed. "Nudnik," he mutters.
They take a cab back to Shawn's apartment, having determined, after much discussion and consulting of webMD on their phones, that Cory has not sprained anything but likely just pulled a muscle.
Cory rearranges himself stiffly across the back seat, wincing. One of those damn tourism/advertising TV's is blaring in the back of the headrest and Shawn turns it off, amazing Cory. He hadn't realized that was an option.
"Hey," Shawn complains as Cory elbows into him, trying to find a comfortable way to sit, but Shawn scoots to allow Cory more space. "That better?" he asks when Cory seems to have found the least-painful way to scrunch in the back of a cab.
"I guess it's as good as it's gonna get."
"It shouldn't be too long a ride," Shawn tells him, "I'll get you some ice and painkillers when we get home."
Home. Cory wishes it was home they were going to.
Shawn groans and sits back against the seat. "I never want to see another doughnut again."
Cory smiles a little. He'd managed to get Shawn to eat four of the doughnuts, a minor triumph. Sweet cakey things have always been Shawn's weakness. Cory's mother used to make a cream cheese and carrot cake thing that nobody in her own family ever really liked but Shawn was nutso for it, so Amy made it all the time. Of course she did, Cory thinks, looking back now. She always sent Shawn home with the leftovers.
And another memory pops into his head. Paramus. Amy always liked to take a big post-holiday shopping trip up there and she'd take Cory and Shawn along for the ride. They adored being on their own at that big mall while she shopped. And somewhere along the line they'd discovered this fancy department store restaurant that served an amazing, three-layer chocolate cake. And it became a tradition that the two of them would always share a slice of that cake when they went to Paramus, two gawky teenage boys sticking out among the old lady department store crowd, giggling over a shared piece of chocolate cake. God. No wonder everybody always made jokes about them.
"What's twelve minus four?" Shawn asks, out of the blue.
"Eight."
He laughs. "You ate eight doughnuts."
"Don't remind me."
Shawn grins. "You're my favorite."
"Favorite what?"
"Everything."
The snow turns into a slushy rain after they get back to the apartment, which feels appropriate for their last night together before Topanga's arrival. There is also an enormous purple bruise across Cory's backside and upper thigh, which also feels appropriately ominous.
They both manage to maintain a cheerful enough front for a while, though. Shawn puts on records, they order take-out, Shawn shakes his hips a little as he waits on Cory hand and foot.. Shawn tells Cory the plots of the upcoming Cheaty O'Zero books. Cory recounts for Shawn the ridiculous fiasco that was Eric's wedding on a cruise ship. But as the hours tick by they both grow quieter and a little more morose.
Cory sits, propped up his pile of pillows, with an icepack on his leg and listens as Shawn's initially funny tale of ridiculous women he slept with on his travels transitions into a sad account of visiting Angela with her then-new husband at the military base in Germany.
"This big, moose of a guy with a crew cut and no sense of humor...as far away from me as you can possibly get. And he can't stand me. Can't stand me one bit. God, it was the most uncomfortable dinner. She kept asking me all these questions but, you know, my life wasn't exactly G-rated at that point and so I was all cagey, not wanting to tell her anything because I knew she'd be disappointed and it'd just give Major Moose more reason to hate me. So she starts telling me about their life and being an army wife just like her mother was, everything revolving around him and how there wasn't any reason for her to finish college and she was looking forward to just being a wife and a mom now...all I could think was that she was throwing her life away for this...for this asshole. It made me so angry..." Shawn's face darkens and Cory watches his hand tracing around and around the rim of his glass as he continues, "I let myself get totally shitfaced even though I was already, you know, on a lot of stuff. I was so angry that I just didn't care. It was awful. I can't believe she still talks to me after that night."
"Shawnie?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me something good that came out of that time. I need to hear that something worthwhile came out of all that."
Shawn looks perplexed and Cory can see him thinking about this. "Oh," he says finally, "When I was getting clean, they told me to write to help keep my thoughts straight. And I started writing a story about this kid from a trailer park who solves mysteries. That seems to have worked out."
Cory smiles. "Fair enough."
"Okay, your turn."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me one good thing that came out of all those years for you." There isn't anything playful in Shawn's tone. He's looking confrontational; he's been spoiling for a fight all day. Cory finds this incredibly irritating.
"What are you talking about? There were plenty of things. It's not like I ran off and spent years trying to destroy myself every way possible."
"Yeah? Nine years. Nine years since you married her. How are you better off?"
"Shawn..."
Shawn's eyes grow wide with outrage. "And now you're going back. You're choosing it all over again."
Cory throws his head back in exasperation. "I'm not choosing anything. That's my life. I'm married to her. I love her."
Shawn leaps to his feet. "No you don't. You never did. You loved me. You loved the idea of her. Of your life with her. You left me for the idea of a life. Now I want you to tell me if it was worth it."
Cory would be startled by how angry Shawn is if he wasn't so angry himself. "I left you? I never went anywhere. You're the one who left."
"You left me the day you married her."
"Oh, for god's sake, Shawn..."
"How did that life work out for you? Huh? How did that all turn out?"
Shawn is trembling with rage. It brings to mind that awful, last fight they had eight years ago. Cory had hurt Shawn that day. He hadn't meant to, really, but part of him did, and he has never stopped being horrified of this memory. Flooded with shame, Cory turns his head away from him and replies in a low, quiet tone.
"Like crap. Okay? My life has been complete and utter crap for nine years. Are you happy?"
"No. No, I'm not happy. Why would I be happy about that?"
"Because you win. You're right."
"Cory..." Shawn's voice is soft with regret now. He sits back down beside him. "That's not winning, Cor. Winning would be seeing you happy. All I ever wanted was to see you be happy. That's why I left. You said that was what was going to make you happy and so I decided I needed to get out of the way and let that happen. But it didn't make you happy. And it is fucking killing me to watch you going right back to that."
Cory still can't look at him. He closes his eyes and wills this stupid fight to end. It has been going on for the better part of a decade now and he is so, so tired. "What do you want from me?"
Shawn doesn't reply immediately, just sits there very still beside him. Then he says, "I want you to start believing that you deserve to be happy. You know? Whether it's here with me or somewhere else-with someone else, whatever-you should be happy...you were such a goddamn happy kid. I don't want to live in a world where that kid doesn't exist anymore..."
Cory sighs. "I'm trying, Shawnie. I really am."
Shawn puts his arm around him, pulls him close, and kisses his head. "I know. I just...I want to help."
"I can't take back what happened."
"Would you? If you could? You said a couple days ago that you wish you had a time machine. If you did, would you go back?"
"And do what?"
"Choose me."
Cory looks at Shawn, his pleading eyes. Cory tries to stay cynical-he's still angry at being put on the spot like this, angry that Shawn keeps asking him impossible things-but he can't do it, facing that need. "Of course I would," he says.
Right before him, Shawn's eyes start to moisten and turn red around the edges. Oh, god, Shawnie...
"Then why the hell won't you choose me now?" Shawn is back on his feet again, trying to cover up his impending tears with sheer volume but his quavery voice is giving him away.
"It's not a choice I have right now."
"How is it not?"
"That's my life there. I chose it a long time ago and I don't get to just walk away from it ten years in. People don't do that."
"Why the hell not? What is stopping you? People don't do that? What people? Wh-what about ten years from now? You'll be another ten years older. Will you be ten years happier? How long do you have to keep paying for a choice you made when you were 20?"
"That doesn't even make sense. Shawn, you don't get to just have a do-over on your life. That's not how it works."
"Of course that's how it works. You think I'd even be here right now if I hadn't gotten a do-over? You don't think I'd be dead or in prison right now?Life is handing you a do-over. Why won't you take it?"
Cory puts his head in his hands. Then a thought occurs to him. He raises his head and says quietly, "Life is handing you a do-over. Why the hell aren't you taking it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It's pretty much the biggest do-over of your life. You get to do-over everything your shitty parents ever did wrong."
"Oh, fuck you. We are not talking about that."
"You're too chickenshit to even try. You just want to throw money at it and make it go away."
"That is not what's happening. Fuck you."
"That's exactly what's happening. The universe is giving you this incredible opportunity and you're just coming up with reasons to run away. Man up and stop acting like your dad. You're not him. Stop behaving like you are."
Shawn Hunter speechless is a very rare thing. Cory watches him in amazement, his eyes bulged out in rage, tears streaming down his face despite his best efforts, and his mouth working overtime to locate some retort that just can't be found. Shawn's hands form into fists and Cory is alarmed as Shawn starts to pound them against his own legs. "Goddammit," Shawn finally manages to spit out, "Goddammit!"
Then all the rage seems to drain right out of him. His shoulders cave in, his fists drop to his sides, and he throws himself back onto the couch, a tiny heap of a man. Now it's his turn to put his head in his hands. "You're absolutely right," he mutters.
They come to no resolutions about anything that night. Shawn is an exhausted shell with no energy left to challenge Cory, and Cory doesn't bring the conversation back around to California or Topanga again. He talks Shawn into sending a brief email to Topanga's lawyer friend, mentioning Topanga's name. They're both surprised when she replies back a few minutes later, offering Shawn an opening in her schedule for the next afternoon.
"We should go to bed, then," Cory says after Shawn confirms the meeting. He gets Shawn's sleeping pill and water glass for him without even really thinking about it, knowing in the back of his head that this is something he would often do were he to stay here. It would be a lifetime of little gestures to keep Shawn on track.
"But it's our last night together," Shawn says sadly. This night has not gone the way either of them wanted it to, dying not with a bang but with a whimper.
"We can call last night our last hurrah instead," Cory offers, "How about that?"
Shawn smiles, recalling their activities of the night before, and takes his pill, guaranteeing he'll be dead to the world within the hour. "When I look back on this week, I'll reverse last night and tonight, then. That's a good idea."
"You're the writer," Cory laughs, leading Shawn to bed, "Make it whatever you want it to be."
Under the covers, in the dark, when Cory thinks Shawn must be just about asleep, Shawn whispers, "I don't ever want to make her feel the way my parents made me feel. That's what scares me the most."
Cory tightens his hold around him. "You won't let yourself do that."
"What if we're all just destined to make the same mistakes?"
"I don't believe that's true."
"S'fate," Shawn murmurs, his voice getting slurry now.
"Maybe fate is that your parents made those mistakes so you would know not to make them yourself."
"Thass nice...I like tha...s'like...Feeny..."
Cory smiles to himself at the compliment. He thinks about something else reassuring he might say, but then recognizes the change in Shawn's breathing. He's gone for the night.
Cory wishes he could have taken one of those pills himself, for it is a long time still before he falls asleep. He holds Shawn's warm, reassuring body, but his mind will not rest.
What if we're all just destined to make the same mistakes?
Two Roads Diverged
Previously:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Next:
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12