Fic: The Treehouse
Author: Lbilover
Title: The Treehouse
Challenge: A Lesson Learned
Rating: mild Adult
Pairing: Sean/Elijah
Warnings: AU, some angst
Summary: The path we think our life is set on may not be the one it takes.
A/N: A story told in a series of 20 drabbles. Sean and Elijah are the same age here, and though the time period isn’t specified, it’s set in the 1970s.
They met in first grade. Elijah was bloody-nosed, furious, and struggling with the playground bully who had him pinned down. Sean was outraged, spoiling for a fight, and had good reason to hate bullies.
“Get off him,” he said, and shoved the kid away, hard.
The resultant scuffle was short but fierce, and ended with the bully in retreat, Sean sporting his own bloody nose, and a pair of enormous blue eyes fixed worshipfully on him.
“What’s your name?” Sean asked, pulling a couple of wadded-up tissues from his pocket. He handed one to the smaller boy.
“Elijah.”
“I’m Sean.”
***
‘Behavior problems’ the teachers called them. Elijah was like a monkey, into everything, unable to settle down. Sean was belligerent and accident-prone, always sporting a bruise or two.
But the teachers also noticed that the two children had a calming effect on each other, and would work or play quietly together in a way they couldn’t with anyone else. Sean looked out for Elijah, an almost too-pretty child who seemed to bring out the bully in others, and Elijah could settle Sean with a look.
They became inseparable, and sometimes seemed to live in their own private world.
***
The summer before third grade they built a treehouse in the woods, under the supervision of Elijah’s older brother Zach. It involved much mashing of thumbs with hammers and delightedly guilty use of forbidden swear words. It wasn’t the most symmetrical or beautiful treehouse ever created, but it was theirs.
Elijah brought an old cassette player and some tapes, and they pooled their money to buy batteries. Sean brought his notebook and pencils. His dad, he told Elijah carefully, didn’t approve of his ‘hobby’. They listened to Elijah’s music, and Sean invented tales and read them aloud.
They were happy.
***
One rainy day Elijah discovered Sean hiding in the treehouse. He was sitting in the only dry space, his face buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs.
Elijah sat down next to him without speaking. The rain dripped through cracks in the roof and the wind shook the flimsy walls.
“I hate my dad,” Sean finally whispered. He looked up, and the tears that streaked his face could not hide the purpling bruise on his cheek.
Elijah’s hand stole out and crept into Sean’s. They sat there in silence, listening to the rain until the storm had passed.
***
In fourth grade, they became blood brothers.
“We make a cut here,” Elijah gestured at his forearm with the lethal-looking knife he held, “and then drink each other’s blood and swear an oath.”
“Drink each other’s blood? That’s gross, Elijah.”
“You’re such a chicken-shit, Sean.”
“No, I’m not.” Sean held out his arm.
They made the cuts gingerly, wincing, but in truth barely drew blood. Sean licked at Elijah’s forearm and made a horrible face.
“Guess we know we aren’t vampires,” Elijah giggled, making a face of his own.
But neither laughed as they pledged to each other eternal loyalty.
***
“Someday you’re gonna be a famous writer, Sean,” Elijah said.
Sean closed his notebook. “You’re nuts,” he replied, embarrassed. “This stuff isn’t any good.”
“It is so. Besides, Mrs. Campbell said you’re the most talented writer in our class.”
“Let’s face it, Elijah, there’s not much competition.”
“What about Andy Porter?” Elijah challenged. “His ‘Ode to Chrissy’s Chest’ is a classic, if you ask me.”
“'O breasts like water-filled balloons,’” Sean intoned, “'O ripe watermelons of delight.’”
They clutched at each other, laughing until their stomachs ached.
Tingles of awareness lingered on Elijah’s skin long after Sean let him go.
***
Sean opened his backpack, a mischievous grin on his face. “Guess what I’ve got, Lij? I stole them from my dad’s stash.” He pulled out a handful of magazines. “Playboy and Hustler. Am I awesome or what?”
“Are you crazy or what?” Elijah exclaimed. “If he finds out…”
“Not a chance.”
They settled side-by-side on the floor on their stomachs, and Sean flipped open the first magazine.
“Whoa- getta load of those boobs!” Sean squirmed a little, both embarrassed and excited.
Elijah looked. But it wasn’t the well-endowed blonde who made his body tighten and his heart beat faster.
***
“Sean?”
“Yeah?”
It was the summer before high school, and they were sitting on the edge of the treehouse, sharing a cigarette filched from Elijah’s mom.
“There’s something I need to tell you, but I- I’m afraid you’ll be mad.”
“Mad? At you?” Sean was bewildered.
“I’m gay,” Elijah blurted out, turning bright red.
Sean stared at him through the slowly spiraling smoke. “Did you honestly think I’d be mad because you’re gay?”
“You mean you’re not?” The relief was enormous.
“Of course not.” Sean pulled him close. “Gay or straight- it doesn’t matter. You’ll always be my best friend.”
***
Sean looked so strange in the black suit. Older, almost frighteningly unrecognizable as the friend Elijah had worshipped since first grade.
“You okay?” Elijah asked, handing Sean a beer.
Sean held the bottle loosely between his hands, and stared at the ground. “Yeah.”
“Things’ll be better for your mom now.”
Sean nodded.
“And you.”
He nodded again. But hot tears began pouring down his face, dripping on the floor. “I loved him, Lij,” he confessed. “Despite everything bad he did, he was still my dad, and I loved him.”
Elijah rocked Sean slowly in his arms. “I know,” he whispered.
***
“I’ve got it all worked out,” Sean told Elijah. “Major in business, get an MBA, then join an accounting firm in the valley. I won’t end up like my dad, walking in front of a bus because he’d fucked up his life so badly.”
“But what about your writing, Sean?” Elijah protested.
Sean looked away. “There’s no real future in that, Lij. I want a steady job, a wife and kids, a fancy house. Someday I’ll have them, too.”
Elijah didn’t know this Sean with his laser-focus eyes and grim mouth.
A sick feeling of dread settled in his stomach.
***
Her name was Christine, and she transferred in their junior year. Pretty, smart, ambitious, Sean decided she’d make the perfect wife and partner for him.
“Want to get married?” he asked, five minutes after meeting her.
She laughed. “Now?”
“Nah, when we get out of college. But I like to have everything lined up well ahead of time.”
“We haven’t even been on a date,” she pointed out.
“No time like the present. How about pizza?”
She considered him with those cool gray eyes. “All right.”
Sean could see his future taking shape, just the way he’d planned it.
***
Elijah tried not to hate Chris. It wasn’t her fault he was in love with Sean. But she had this way of looking at him that said she knew how he felt and pitied him.
Well, he didn’t want her fucking pity. If he could only have Sean’s friendship, he’d settle for it, even if it killed him. And sometimes he thought it would kill him, like when he found them necking in the back seat of Sean’s car.
But Sean never took her to the treehouse. That was still theirs alone, inviolate and apart.
There, Sean belonged to him.
***
“Motherfucking sonofabitch. I’ll kill the fucking bastard.”
There were bruises on Elijah’s wrists. Finger-shaped bruises.
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you the truth,” Elijah said. “It doesn’t matter, Sean.”
“Doesn’t matter?” Sean breathed. “Of course it matters. He had no right to lay a hand on you when you said no. I’ll catch that fucker and kick his balls up through his teeth.”
“You don’t have to. I already did.”
“What?”
“Kicked him in the balls. He wasn’t happy with me.”
They laughed until they cried.
But Sean felt the strangest urge to soothe Elijah’s bruises with his lips.
***
Sean was drunk. Elijah helped him up into the treehouse, where he collapsed on the floor, giggling helplessly.
“M’drunk, Lij,” he slurred.
“I noticed.”
“Should have gone to prom,” Sean said accusingly.
“I didn’t have a date.”
“Chris was th’most beautiful girl there.”
“I’m sure she was.”
“M’envy of everyone.”
Elijah said nothing.
“But… your eyes are beautifuller, um, more beautifulous… shit, m’drunk.”
Elijah’s heart began pounding.
“C’n I kiss you, Lij?”
“Sean, I don’t…” It was too late. Sean drew him into a whiskey-laced kiss.
“So good,” Sean whispered, and fell asleep.
Elijah wondered if hearts really could break.
***
“We’ll see each other at Christmas,” Sean said with determined optimism, closing the lid on the box. “It’s not that long.”
The treehouse looked sad and barren, stripped of all their treasures. They were leaving in the morning, Elijah for Columbia and the big city, Sean and Chris for USC.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
“Elijah, don’t look like that. It’s only a few months.”
He couldn’t stop the tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It feels like forever to me.”
Sean gathered him tightly in his arms, pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
It burned like a brand.
***
Dear Elijah,
How are you? How are your classes? I want to hear everything.
You’ll never guess… I submitted a story to the college literary journal, and it was accepted! But- was it a mistake to start writing again, Lij? I thought those dreams were over.
I feel so confused and lost right now… If only you weren’t a continent away. I need to see you. I keep picturing your face the night we said goodbye. You knew, didn’t you, how it would hurt… that we were never meant to be apart.
Sean hastily crumpled the paper as Chris appeared.
***
“Chris!” Sean burst into her dorm room without knocking. “My class was canceled. I thought we might go…”
Confused images assaulted him: Chris, her head flung back, her dark hair streaming… a man beneath her, his hands on her bare ass…
Choking back a cry, Sean fled.
He waited for her outside the library, their usual meeting place.
“Why?” he asked simply. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” Her laugh was bitter. “I finally realized there’s no room in your heart for me, Sean, and there never has been.”
“What do you mean, Chris?”
“You’re a bright guy. Figure it out.”
***
He’d put candles, dozens of them, all around the room. Covered the floor with a blanket. Brought a bottle of wine. Unbuttoned his shirt, let his jeans ride low. He didn’t feel nervous or scared, just ready. The truth had revealed itself to him at last, not with stunning force, but with a quiet inevitability. He loved Elijah, and always had. Chris was right. There was no room in his heart for anyone else.
“Sean!” He heard Elijah’s joyful exclamation as he climbed the ladder. “You’re early!”
No, Lij, I’m late.
Sean held out his arms to welcome Elijah home.
***
“I’m sorry.”
“For this?” Elijah looked up, hurt.
“No, god no.” Sean tightened his arms. “For being an idiot, and missing what was right in front of me.”
“A fucking gorgeous idiot.” Elijah ran his hand lightly across the well-defined muscles of Sean’s abdomen. “My idiot.” His hand traveled lower, took possession of what was now his, and stroked it.
Sean bit back a moan. Elijah released him, and moved over him, rocking against him. They fit so perfectly together. He’d always known they would.
It had just taken Sean a little longer to figure it out, that’s all.
***
They couldn’t move into their treehouse after college, so they settled for the next best thing: a tiny loft in Greenwich Village. They didn’t have much to start with, just a mattress on the floor, a battered cassette player and a bunch of tapes.
Elijah found a job with a record company, and Sean found an agent for his stories. Success came to both of them in time, but their life never really changed.
But then, they didn’t want it to.
In the evenings they listened to Elijah’s music, and Sean invented tales and read them aloud.
They were happy.
~end~
Title: The Treehouse
Challenge: A Lesson Learned
Rating: mild Adult
Pairing: Sean/Elijah
Warnings: AU, some angst
Summary: The path we think our life is set on may not be the one it takes.
A/N: A story told in a series of 20 drabbles. Sean and Elijah are the same age here, and though the time period isn’t specified, it’s set in the 1970s.
They met in first grade. Elijah was bloody-nosed, furious, and struggling with the playground bully who had him pinned down. Sean was outraged, spoiling for a fight, and had good reason to hate bullies.
“Get off him,” he said, and shoved the kid away, hard.
The resultant scuffle was short but fierce, and ended with the bully in retreat, Sean sporting his own bloody nose, and a pair of enormous blue eyes fixed worshipfully on him.
“What’s your name?” Sean asked, pulling a couple of wadded-up tissues from his pocket. He handed one to the smaller boy.
“Elijah.”
“I’m Sean.”
***
‘Behavior problems’ the teachers called them. Elijah was like a monkey, into everything, unable to settle down. Sean was belligerent and accident-prone, always sporting a bruise or two.
But the teachers also noticed that the two children had a calming effect on each other, and would work or play quietly together in a way they couldn’t with anyone else. Sean looked out for Elijah, an almost too-pretty child who seemed to bring out the bully in others, and Elijah could settle Sean with a look.
They became inseparable, and sometimes seemed to live in their own private world.
***
The summer before third grade they built a treehouse in the woods, under the supervision of Elijah’s older brother Zach. It involved much mashing of thumbs with hammers and delightedly guilty use of forbidden swear words. It wasn’t the most symmetrical or beautiful treehouse ever created, but it was theirs.
Elijah brought an old cassette player and some tapes, and they pooled their money to buy batteries. Sean brought his notebook and pencils. His dad, he told Elijah carefully, didn’t approve of his ‘hobby’. They listened to Elijah’s music, and Sean invented tales and read them aloud.
They were happy.
***
One rainy day Elijah discovered Sean hiding in the treehouse. He was sitting in the only dry space, his face buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs.
Elijah sat down next to him without speaking. The rain dripped through cracks in the roof and the wind shook the flimsy walls.
“I hate my dad,” Sean finally whispered. He looked up, and the tears that streaked his face could not hide the purpling bruise on his cheek.
Elijah’s hand stole out and crept into Sean’s. They sat there in silence, listening to the rain until the storm had passed.
***
In fourth grade, they became blood brothers.
“We make a cut here,” Elijah gestured at his forearm with the lethal-looking knife he held, “and then drink each other’s blood and swear an oath.”
“Drink each other’s blood? That’s gross, Elijah.”
“You’re such a chicken-shit, Sean.”
“No, I’m not.” Sean held out his arm.
They made the cuts gingerly, wincing, but in truth barely drew blood. Sean licked at Elijah’s forearm and made a horrible face.
“Guess we know we aren’t vampires,” Elijah giggled, making a face of his own.
But neither laughed as they pledged to each other eternal loyalty.
***
“Someday you’re gonna be a famous writer, Sean,” Elijah said.
Sean closed his notebook. “You’re nuts,” he replied, embarrassed. “This stuff isn’t any good.”
“It is so. Besides, Mrs. Campbell said you’re the most talented writer in our class.”
“Let’s face it, Elijah, there’s not much competition.”
“What about Andy Porter?” Elijah challenged. “His ‘Ode to Chrissy’s Chest’ is a classic, if you ask me.”
“'O breasts like water-filled balloons,’” Sean intoned, “'O ripe watermelons of delight.’”
They clutched at each other, laughing until their stomachs ached.
Tingles of awareness lingered on Elijah’s skin long after Sean let him go.
***
Sean opened his backpack, a mischievous grin on his face. “Guess what I’ve got, Lij? I stole them from my dad’s stash.” He pulled out a handful of magazines. “Playboy and Hustler. Am I awesome or what?”
“Are you crazy or what?” Elijah exclaimed. “If he finds out…”
“Not a chance.”
They settled side-by-side on the floor on their stomachs, and Sean flipped open the first magazine.
“Whoa- getta load of those boobs!” Sean squirmed a little, both embarrassed and excited.
Elijah looked. But it wasn’t the well-endowed blonde who made his body tighten and his heart beat faster.
***
“Sean?”
“Yeah?”
It was the summer before high school, and they were sitting on the edge of the treehouse, sharing a cigarette filched from Elijah’s mom.
“There’s something I need to tell you, but I- I’m afraid you’ll be mad.”
“Mad? At you?” Sean was bewildered.
“I’m gay,” Elijah blurted out, turning bright red.
Sean stared at him through the slowly spiraling smoke. “Did you honestly think I’d be mad because you’re gay?”
“You mean you’re not?” The relief was enormous.
“Of course not.” Sean pulled him close. “Gay or straight- it doesn’t matter. You’ll always be my best friend.”
***
Sean looked so strange in the black suit. Older, almost frighteningly unrecognizable as the friend Elijah had worshipped since first grade.
“You okay?” Elijah asked, handing Sean a beer.
Sean held the bottle loosely between his hands, and stared at the ground. “Yeah.”
“Things’ll be better for your mom now.”
Sean nodded.
“And you.”
He nodded again. But hot tears began pouring down his face, dripping on the floor. “I loved him, Lij,” he confessed. “Despite everything bad he did, he was still my dad, and I loved him.”
Elijah rocked Sean slowly in his arms. “I know,” he whispered.
***
“I’ve got it all worked out,” Sean told Elijah. “Major in business, get an MBA, then join an accounting firm in the valley. I won’t end up like my dad, walking in front of a bus because he’d fucked up his life so badly.”
“But what about your writing, Sean?” Elijah protested.
Sean looked away. “There’s no real future in that, Lij. I want a steady job, a wife and kids, a fancy house. Someday I’ll have them, too.”
Elijah didn’t know this Sean with his laser-focus eyes and grim mouth.
A sick feeling of dread settled in his stomach.
***
Her name was Christine, and she transferred in their junior year. Pretty, smart, ambitious, Sean decided she’d make the perfect wife and partner for him.
“Want to get married?” he asked, five minutes after meeting her.
She laughed. “Now?”
“Nah, when we get out of college. But I like to have everything lined up well ahead of time.”
“We haven’t even been on a date,” she pointed out.
“No time like the present. How about pizza?”
She considered him with those cool gray eyes. “All right.”
Sean could see his future taking shape, just the way he’d planned it.
***
Elijah tried not to hate Chris. It wasn’t her fault he was in love with Sean. But she had this way of looking at him that said she knew how he felt and pitied him.
Well, he didn’t want her fucking pity. If he could only have Sean’s friendship, he’d settle for it, even if it killed him. And sometimes he thought it would kill him, like when he found them necking in the back seat of Sean’s car.
But Sean never took her to the treehouse. That was still theirs alone, inviolate and apart.
There, Sean belonged to him.
***
“Motherfucking sonofabitch. I’ll kill the fucking bastard.”
There were bruises on Elijah’s wrists. Finger-shaped bruises.
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you the truth,” Elijah said. “It doesn’t matter, Sean.”
“Doesn’t matter?” Sean breathed. “Of course it matters. He had no right to lay a hand on you when you said no. I’ll catch that fucker and kick his balls up through his teeth.”
“You don’t have to. I already did.”
“What?”
“Kicked him in the balls. He wasn’t happy with me.”
They laughed until they cried.
But Sean felt the strangest urge to soothe Elijah’s bruises with his lips.
***
Sean was drunk. Elijah helped him up into the treehouse, where he collapsed on the floor, giggling helplessly.
“M’drunk, Lij,” he slurred.
“I noticed.”
“Should have gone to prom,” Sean said accusingly.
“I didn’t have a date.”
“Chris was th’most beautiful girl there.”
“I’m sure she was.”
“M’envy of everyone.”
Elijah said nothing.
“But… your eyes are beautifuller, um, more beautifulous… shit, m’drunk.”
Elijah’s heart began pounding.
“C’n I kiss you, Lij?”
“Sean, I don’t…” It was too late. Sean drew him into a whiskey-laced kiss.
“So good,” Sean whispered, and fell asleep.
Elijah wondered if hearts really could break.
***
“We’ll see each other at Christmas,” Sean said with determined optimism, closing the lid on the box. “It’s not that long.”
The treehouse looked sad and barren, stripped of all their treasures. They were leaving in the morning, Elijah for Columbia and the big city, Sean and Chris for USC.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
“Elijah, don’t look like that. It’s only a few months.”
He couldn’t stop the tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It feels like forever to me.”
Sean gathered him tightly in his arms, pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
It burned like a brand.
***
Dear Elijah,
How are you? How are your classes? I want to hear everything.
You’ll never guess… I submitted a story to the college literary journal, and it was accepted! But- was it a mistake to start writing again, Lij? I thought those dreams were over.
I feel so confused and lost right now… If only you weren’t a continent away. I need to see you. I keep picturing your face the night we said goodbye. You knew, didn’t you, how it would hurt… that we were never meant to be apart.
Sean hastily crumpled the paper as Chris appeared.
***
“Chris!” Sean burst into her dorm room without knocking. “My class was canceled. I thought we might go…”
Confused images assaulted him: Chris, her head flung back, her dark hair streaming… a man beneath her, his hands on her bare ass…
Choking back a cry, Sean fled.
He waited for her outside the library, their usual meeting place.
“Why?” he asked simply. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” Her laugh was bitter. “I finally realized there’s no room in your heart for me, Sean, and there never has been.”
“What do you mean, Chris?”
“You’re a bright guy. Figure it out.”
***
He’d put candles, dozens of them, all around the room. Covered the floor with a blanket. Brought a bottle of wine. Unbuttoned his shirt, let his jeans ride low. He didn’t feel nervous or scared, just ready. The truth had revealed itself to him at last, not with stunning force, but with a quiet inevitability. He loved Elijah, and always had. Chris was right. There was no room in his heart for anyone else.
“Sean!” He heard Elijah’s joyful exclamation as he climbed the ladder. “You’re early!”
No, Lij, I’m late.
Sean held out his arms to welcome Elijah home.
***
“I’m sorry.”
“For this?” Elijah looked up, hurt.
“No, god no.” Sean tightened his arms. “For being an idiot, and missing what was right in front of me.”
“A fucking gorgeous idiot.” Elijah ran his hand lightly across the well-defined muscles of Sean’s abdomen. “My idiot.” His hand traveled lower, took possession of what was now his, and stroked it.
Sean bit back a moan. Elijah released him, and moved over him, rocking against him. They fit so perfectly together. He’d always known they would.
It had just taken Sean a little longer to figure it out, that’s all.
***
They couldn’t move into their treehouse after college, so they settled for the next best thing: a tiny loft in Greenwich Village. They didn’t have much to start with, just a mattress on the floor, a battered cassette player and a bunch of tapes.
Elijah found a job with a record company, and Sean found an agent for his stories. Success came to both of them in time, but their life never really changed.
But then, they didn’t want it to.
In the evenings they listened to Elijah’s music, and Sean invented tales and read them aloud.
They were happy.
~end~