Disclaimer: I do not own the pacifier…….
A/N: Woot, looks like I am the first slash story on this particular board and I just got to say if you are going to flame me….go ahead. I have heard it all. So I will go ahead and answer some questions you might have. 1. No I am not gay. 2. No I am not sick…I had a check up two weeks ago to prove it. 3. Yes you might find the content to be disgusting but you're an idiot for reading it in the first place. 4. Yes I support homosexuality, because all love is beautiful in my eyes. 5. Yes I realize that Seth is underage but this is fiction, so grow up and get over it……That's all I got for now. If you are going to flame me, be ballsy enough not to do it anonymously. Read on. Much love!
It shouldn't be like this
What an absolutely ridiculous predicament I've gotten myself into. I don't pretend to understand the reason behind it all but I know that for the first time in a long time something has got me terrified. Big ol', never fear, hulk-like Shane has absolutely no idea what to do. It would have made sense if it had been the girl, Zoe, or better yet the principal, but not him. He and these thoughts are something that should never coincide, and yet there they are. As if I didn't already have enough to deal with.
My mind really can't grasp the idea of it. The idea of him, and I know for a fact that I really don't want to grasp it in the first place, but some things just wont be blocked out. Some images prove to be stronger than you ever wanted them to be. God, I am so fucked.
It didn't start out this way. In fact, at first, I couldn't stand the kid, perhaps even more than his siblings. He held no understanding of discipline. He didn't follow directions. You know how it is, "My way. No highway option." Too bad I can't seem to follow my own orders.
Perhaps I still hate him, but now it is for an entirely different reason. Now I hate him for the feeling that he gives me in the pit of my stomach. Now I hate the way he smiles, because it doesn't fail to bring a smile to my own lips. I hate him for doing this to me. I am not weak. I do not fear. It's not supposed to be like this. It's never supposed to be like this. So I hate him for it.
I'm not sure when it exactly started. From the beginning, even before I found out about the play, I knew that girls was probably the furthest thing from this boys mind, but I am not exactly sure when I began to put girls aside myself. Perhaps it started when I first met him, only I didn't recognize it until much later. Perhaps when my eyes would linger on him longer than the others, in what I thought was contempt, it was actually for an entirely different reason. I'm not even sure if I really believe that it is true. I know that I don't want it to be true, so shouldn't that be enough? Ha, what a pity it is that a man like me, who is supposed to have all the answers, is now left clueless by a pair of infuriatingly blue eyes.
He has ruined me. He has unconsciously ruined everything that I stand for, and it seems that I have let him. I should be stronger than this. When I do my rounds of checking on the children at night as they sleep, I often find myself lingering at his room, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, and becoming increasingly sick at the realization that it takes a lot for me to look away and continue on.
I don't want this but it's so much harder than just not wanting it. I remember when he cut his hair and they found the Nazi swastika in his locker. Two thoughts instantaneously sprung into my mind. One, God what is going on in his head, and two, he looks much better this way. I cursed myself inwardly for the second.
It wasn't lying when I said he was a smart kid. He doesn't speak much but his actions reveal more than he intends to. It's something to be marveled and it would be a lot better thing for me to choose to admire rather than the hundreds of things that a slightly less appropriate.
When Zoe and he had thrown their radar detectors into the sewer line I had found it to be extremely unprofessional that my thoughts seemed to be focused on saving one of the two siblings in particular. Not that I do not care for Zoe, but my thoughts seem to have a mind of their own nowadays.
There is no chance in hell that I will inform him of my infatuation but I found it completely irrational that I have found myself wanting to at times. It seems to get increasingly difficult as the days pass by and for the love of God I need to get out of here before I do something that I will regret.
It's hard not to look at him. The way that his features point in an almost feminine way. The way that his blue eyes seem to cast downwards during conversation as if they would reveal what is haunting him. As we eat breakfast I catch myself peering over my glass of orange juice at him. Lulu has caught me staring but at her age I am sure that she really doesn't know what it is about. Hell, I don't even know what it is about.
I look at the way his thin lips part as he listens attentively to the music that blares from his head phones and at one point his eyes snap open from his reverie and he looks me fully in the eye before we both turn away in a flurry of cleared throats and rushed escapes.
He's just a kid, and fury rises as I watch the fool Murney step beyond the bounds of any teacher, but then of course I feel anger at myself as I remember that he is a kid, and I am one sick bastard.
I am sitting at the kitchen table and it is late at night as I watch him tip toe down the stairs and towards the refrigerator. He doesn't realize I am behind him and as I tap him on the shoulder he almost drops the carton of milk that is clutched in his slender fingers.
" I surely hope that you are not going to drink straight from that." I say to him. As he calms he laughs slightly at the remark that I made and he cocks his head to one side as he says with a smirk.
"Oh, and I didn't see you doing the same thing only two nights ago?" I return his grin and I reach out to ruffle his hair much like a father might do. To bad the thoughts running through my head are far from fatherly. He puts the carton back in the door of the refrigerator and he yawns slightly.
"Well, 'night Shane."
I watch him retreat back to his room. It's all so wrong. "Good night Seth."