Five Things That Never Happened To Roy
by dossier
Pairing: Roy (Their Second Chance)
Rated: PG-13
Author's Notes: This riffs off my two stories 'Blue Moon' and 'Red Sky', both written for the ZoneZines. Fortunately you really don't have to have seen the movie at all, Blue Moon tells you every thing you need to know from the movie in the first two paragraphs
Spoilers: This could spoil you for the stories.
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1. His Second Chance
He did love Laurie, he decided on reflection; she was determined, dynamic and could be very sweet and hot when she took the focus from herself and aimed it at him. Roy loved that intensity, the depth of that concentration intrigued him. He was perfectly willing to overlook the fact that she had whacked him out of frustration—it was his own fault for being obstinate, after all. He knew how maddening he could be when he dug his heels in and yanked back on the reins.
The reins of marriage and family; Laurie's determination to reunite her estranged parents, and to then have her life reflect that fairy tale ending--get married, have babies, and live in a fantasy world with minivans and picket fences. The strain of being single and alone was wearing on him as well, but it was a marvel of the subconscious that he hadn't even known he wanted it, until the possibility was suddenly taken away from him. He had loved being married to Sharon, though they'd been completely unsuited for each other, and that had poisoned his recollection of the state of marital bliss.
Roy grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. No way was he going to let the possibility slip out of his grasp—he was going for the brass ring. Although, on second thought, as he locked the door behind him, it had better be a gold ring. Laurie would beat him senseless with his own leg, if he brought her a brass ring.
2. Or, It Might've Gone This Way
The end of the Summer Series award banquet party was the usual amalgam of fleet members and their families; the clubhouse was huge, but the crowd spilled out into the marina anyway. You can't keep a sailor away from the boats too long—especially not the teenagers.
Roy had finally beaten Scott in the ratings this year and won the first place trophy for their class. He was still a little giddy about his victory, though the swagger in his step had been taken down a notch when Del had reminded Roy not so gently that his lead in the standings was minute.
Scott hadn’t minded the good natured razzing. He'd done his best and knew that Roy had beaten him fairly; he was glad that Roy had finally made it to the top spot. The Fall Series would start in a few weeks, and he was confident that come New Years, they would keep their hold on the top two rankings.
They were basking in soft evening air, the adults had settled down to some serious drinking inside, and the younger kids were playing another game of hide and go seek amid the piers and out-buildings, under the pale wash of the of the newly risen moon.
The conversation turned to school, comparing their classes, and teachers, and who was dating who. Roy sat next to Sharon; he was still working up the courage to make his move with her. Roy and Scott had known each other for years—and were a fixture in the Cullen household—but it was just recently that he had seen her in a more amorous way. Face it; she gave him a woody every time she walked by, although she seemed to be more interested in Jimmy Connor.
Scott was having an intense conversation with Sharon, a mock argument that was going no where.
Jimmy, Roy's eternal nemesis, threw down a pilfered six pack of beer on the picnic table. “Share with me, the good sons and daughters of the ruling elite, my ill-gotten gains.”
Everyone groaned, but the cans were quickly distributed and drunk greedily, and the talk turned to who was going to make the next strafing run to get more. Roy was elected by unanimous opinion, since he could do no wrong today.
He sauntered into the clubhouse and looked around the room to ascertain that the refreshments were suitably unguarded and began to make his move. Sharon's father saw him, and waved him over to sit next to him.
Roy knew he couldn't ignore the summons, and he glumly sloped over to Del's table. Another round of congratulations were offered to him, as well as bids to take him on as crew in the larger 2-man boats when he got tired of racing single-hands. Roy liked being the center of attention, and that he was being sought out as crew in the adult class races, but it distracted him from his mission.
When he eventually extracted himself from their clutches, got the beer and made his way back outside to the picnic table, he found that the group had given up on him, and dispersed to who knew where. Scott was the only one left waiting at the picnic table.
“Where did they all go?” Roy handed a can to Scott and set the six-pack down in between them.
"Sharon and Jimmy took off that way, and the others just drifted away.” Scott waved his hand in a vague manner. He took a drink of the beer and grimaced. “God, you’d think with the money these people have they would buy better beer.”
“Scott, I think this is the sacrificial beer—so we don’t get our hands on the good stuff.”
Scott laughed and smiled at Roy. The two friends drank the entire six-pack while they shot the shit about the last race, and the repairs they needed to make to their boats. Roy made a mental note of the things he would get for him at the chandlers; Scott's after school job didn't always fully support his sailing habit. Roy figured his parents could stand the financial stress without undue concern.
All the while, though, the fact that Sharon had left with Jimmy annoyed him. They were probably necking out on the docks in the moonlight. Bastard. Jimmy was the one that had suggested Roy go in and get the beer, and in retrospect it was obvious that he had planned to steer Sharon away once he way gone.
Roy abruptly changed the subject. “Fucking Jimmy pisses me off. He did that on purpose, didn’t he?”
Scott didn’t immediately veer with the change in direction. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“He maneuvered me into leaving so he could swipe Sharon.”
Scott looked agog at Roy. Even in the dark he could tell that Roy was glowering. “Oh, get over yourself. You think Sharon put up that much of a fight? She didn’t take much convincing, and it’s not like she's gonna marry him or anything.”
“I know, but I was just working my around to asking her out.”
“And he asked first. There’s always next week—Jimmy will find some new skank to chase, and they'll be fighting like cats and dogs.”
Roy objected immediately. “Hey!"
"Well, for values of 'skank' that don't include Sharon," Scott smirked.
"Better. You know her better than anyone, Scott. Does she like me, you know *like* me?”
“She thinks you’re cute. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't turn you down if you got off your butt and *asked her out*, but I think she might be jealous that you have better hair than she does.”
Roy glanced up at Scott through his lashes, a fairly coquettish look for a seventeen year old boy.
"I wouldn't turn you down either, and I like you more than she does…I'm not even jealous of your hair." Scott slouched even closer to Roy.
Roy grinned, "You have better hair than me, anyway," then reached up to run his hand through Scott's mass of long, dark curly locks.
Scott's normally jovial mien was suddenly serious. "You're my best friend, and I'll never leave you, Roy." He slowly leaned in, closing the few inches between them, and gave Roy a short, shy kiss on the lips.
Roy let his hand slide down to Scott's neck, and pulled him back in for another kiss, less shy and more tongue. "You and me, Scott, together forever."
3. Thank God This Never Happened
Roy's school locker door was open and he intent on arranging the books inside, so when he slammed it shut, Roy was startled to see Scott standing there, looking painfully shy and tentative. The fact that Scott had kissed him last night in public, where anyone could've seen them still sickened and repulsed him. "What do you want," Roy said flatly.
"I'm sorry. I apologize, I didn't mean it, it won't happen again." Scott's dark brown eyes were huge and faintly glimmering, and Roy didn't know what made him madder, that Scott had kissed him, or that he was here now, in the school hallway about to make a scene before first period.
"Yeah, that's about right. What part of get the hell away from me didn't you understand?"
Scott visibly flinched, but then he drew himself up to his full height, and squared his shoulders. "I just wanted to apologize."
"Fine you apologized, now scram. I don't *ever* want to see you again. Got it?" Roy was nearly shouting, and the other students were watching avidly—some one else's trauma was always excellent entertainment, and to see the formerly almost inseparable friends screaming at each other was high drama.
Roy leaned in closer and said in a low voice that didn't carry any farther than Scott. "Goddamn faggot, I should have known you weren't really my friend. You've probably been waiting for the chance to jump my ass since day one."
Scott paled and stood stock still. The crowd was waiting for him to throw the first punch, but he disappointed them. He twisted his lips in a sarcastic smirk, "yeah that's right. Jesus, you think a lot of yourself, don't you? Get over yourself, Altenloh." Scott turned abruptly and resolutely walked away.
Roy scowled at the kids crowding around. "Go on, show's over." He sloped off to first period, and never looked back.
4. This Would've Been Really Cool.
If Roy Altenloh fell over dead tomorrow--September 10th, 1988--he would die the happiest man on earth—except for maybe Dennis Connor, or the rest of the crew of the Stars & Stripes. They'd done it—wrangled their way through legal battles and an extremely short R&D to beat the pants off the Kiwis, by 18 and 21 minutes in two races. Roy had been cut from the short list in early May, but when Cam Lewis had landed in hospital with a nasty case of appendicitis, Dennis-Fucking-Connor had personally called him up and invited him to sub for Cam. He was still waiting to wake up; it had to be a dream.
The scene at the San Diego Yacht Club was a near-riot. Scott was off schmoozing, and the champagne was flowing, and the crowd was surging forward to meet the victorious crew. Flash bulbs were going off, hands were being thrust towards him, women were ducking in to get a kiss, and Roy could not wipe the grin off of his face.
5. But, In His Deepest Heart, He Really Wanted This.
"Goddammit, Altenloh—I told you to check with the fucking lab about the artificial womb! It was your turn!"
Roy grinned at Scott, and squeezed Honor's hand, then gently pushed the hair away from her face. "I know, sweetheart, I'm completely to blame."
"No, Scott is to blame, you were just negligent. Christ, why the fuck did I—Oh, oh!"
"Breathe sweetheart. In and out, slowly, you've done this before. Hee Hee Hee."
Honor moaned and closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing through the contraction.
"That's it, Honor, you're almost there, he's about to crown, just relax a moment and when I say push, you push, ok?" Dr. Victoria Chien was well-used to the odd trio, she'd delivered Christy a year ago. She turned and nodded to the nurse, who was standing ready with a tray of scalpels and clamps.
Honor panted, "Yeah, yeah, push when you say."
Dr. Chien watched the fetal monitor and when the ragged jags of another contraction appeared, she called out in a calm voice, "Here it comes, push! Push!"
Honor pushed for all she was worth, turning red in the face and grimacing with pain. "That's good, sweet heart, almost there, almost there…"
"There's the head, just a little more, shoulders are next, wait for it." The relief was almost there, but the need to push was unbearable. "Wait, ok, one last push!"
The shoulders were worse than the head; she was giving birth to a goddamn linebacker.
"There he is! Come on baby, there you are." The nurse quickly clamped the umbilical cord and handed Scott the surgical scissors. "Cut right there."
Scott deftly cut the cord and then stood back while the nurses did their assessments and cleaned the baby. He was absolutely speechless; Roy was petting Honor and kissing her, but Scott only had eyes for the bloody child—his child.
The End
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