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Shifting of Gears

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list June 13, 2001

Title: Shifting of Gears
Author: Scynneh
E-mail: Scynneh@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: This is not the delusion of someone without a life- the delusion is my life. Okay? Now scoot over Sean honey, lend me the massage oil.
Rating: R; for thoughts of naked skin and some innuendo between guys.
Pairing: Michael/Sean - the delinquent that we do so enjoy.
Author's Notes: I couldn't help it, these two seem so experienced, that is was horrible not to let them try a little something with each other. The song is from Fiona Apple's 'To your love.'



        He thought about their mouths. What could be learned from the full pouting spring pinkness of the Sunshine Princess, or the cold, uncompromising line that was mirrored in the faces whose foreheads were covered by dark, shiny hair? So much in the proud haughty tremble of a carriage that could not remain so tall forever, blond hair bound to the back of a neck that would not, for a stubborn sense of loyalty, be cradled by anyone ever again.

        He reflected on what could be told without words- the grief in so many eyes, the hands quivering, but it is lips, tense or lax that gave him the clues. See, the other ones in Juvie always thought that he was queer 'cause he didn't look them in the eye, staring just an inch or so lower than their noses, but the didn't care what they thought of him, because they were too stupid to realize that their entire stories were thrown out to him in those moments when emotion got the better of common sense.

        Michael was never truly happy to see him and that was acceptable, Sean had caused so much trouble in my family already, that the chances of anything good resulting from him being around were small. But Michael knew how to defend his family, and Sean respected that- when he had last seen the boy, there had been a tiff between the leader of the Trio Strange, and Michael had refused to back down about something.

        So prissy that Max Evans, and Sean hated him. Wielding all the power that he did and abusing all of his little family to the point that Sean could barely stop myself from putting a fist through his chin and finding out how far back that clenched jaw goes. He was aware that there could be no nice way to categorize the many ways that such a desire was so wrong and sick, but then that arrogant moron did something unspeakable and it started all over again.

        Sean knew about himself, how he looked, was aware of how they stared at him when he was talking to Liz, knew what they thought of his relationship with her, and he didn't care, it amused him.

        So what if the girl was supposed to be a part of the Sacred Circle that Max Evans had somehow pulled together? It wasn't as if she didn't know what he wanted, and sometimes she even pretended that she wanted the same thing.

        Michael was strong; that was clear, from the way that he stood at Max's back, he had to be strength, but occasionally, there was a little bit of rebellion there that was intriguing to Sean. Not all of that hazel sugar was loyal and mindless the way the Prince liked his subjects to be. The 'Guerin boy', as Amy called him, would exchange amused glances with Valenti as the speeches or discussions, or whatever totally boring outpourings of words were called, got too intense.

        Then one or the other would duck out- maybe Maria would go along with them, maybe not. That's when Sean decided that he didn't hate the quiet one as much as the rest of the others. Sure, he looked at Sean as if he were the worst kind of intruder, and gave him the impression that he might shove the blond-haired boy off a bridge if given the chance, or the motivation.

        But the times he liked best were when there seemed to be no kind of reason for the dislike, or the violent impulse, and he thought that Michael might get into a scuffle just for the pleasure of watching his opponent fall flat on his face. Sean just hoped that he was there when that adversary was Max Evans.

        He wasn't sure of how to approach their little group, and that angered him, because he had gotten accustomed to knowing how to do everything that counted. Finally, the word got around that he wanted to have a 'meeting' with them, or that was the way he figured it had happened: he mentioned that Michael wasn't so bad, and maybe they should try to get along, gotten weird looks from Maria, and the trap was sprung.

        Michael worked at the Crashdown, and he wore a bandanna while he cooked. Sean slipped back into the kitchen during a busy rush and stood in the corner. Watching him move. More graceful than he should have been, almost as if he were compensating for height with movements that were so neat that he didn't really occupy space so much as slip around it. After a few minutes, Michael flipped another burger and spoke,

        "See something interesting?" He knew that he had been quiet, and there hadn't been an opportunity for the other boy to see him, so his reply was more defensive than he had intended.

        "Maybe. Is that a problem?" And he was staring carefully over that shoulder to where Liz was taking down orders.

        Michael didn't shrug but tilted his head back to look at Sean. "Not smart, Max's be pissed, Maria would strangle you, and then I'd have to hear about it. Buy a magazine or something." And he turned back to his work, seeming to consider it done. Sean didn't.

        " Is that what you did when you and my cousin weren't fucking each other?" He'd expected the angry swing of eyes towards him, but no rushing rage was forthcoming.

        "No."

        Now Sean was amused. "C'mon, all guys do something to get off, what, you just walked around with blue balls?" He frowned. "Or is there something in the water that I should be aware of?"

        "Way off now," was the short reply, but though the words were delivered quickly, the other boy sensed that it had more to do with the fact that Maria and Liz had converged on the counter and were demanding orders that he delivered up to them as fast as was possible with greasy plates and hands.

        Another scenario had presented itself to Sean's fertile imagination, and this one made his voice lower to a level that had bells of warning around it. "What, you slept around?"

        Amusement now, and he had no intention of hiding it that was clear. "You really think I'm a jerk."

        It wasn't as if Michael let himself smile around Sean, just that he was assaulted by Humor, and She thought that he was overdue for one of those irresistible creeping smiles that had the outsider wondering if the kitchen could be counted as an area for seduction, and if so, was the storeroom the next destination intended? He liked the sound of that, at the same time appalled that he would allow this odd cooking freak to get to him. Maybe his neurotransmitters were being shorted out by all the pheromones in the air. It was a possible explanation.

        Sean stepped forward, and bid his wisdom adieu.

        Kaboom, kablooey, and zzzt.

        Fin

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