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Title: A New Beginning (1/?)
Author: [livejournal.com profile] moit
Pairing: Shy/Sandy
Fandom: Haven/Flipper crossover
Summary: Sandy, a bright sunny boy spending the summer in the Cayman Islands, falls into the lap of Shy, a quiet dockhand.
Rating: R
Genre: Romance, angst
Warnings: mentions of het, mentions of murder, mentions of past violence
Word Count: 2,737
Author's Note: Slight spoilers for Haven, but there's enough info in the story that if you haven't seen it, you can understand what's going on. photo of Shy for reference
Beta: [livejournal.com profile] naemi. She helped me rewrite and repost this on 17 August, 2012. :D *hugs*





“Hey, Shy!”

He spun around, nearly tripping on the bucket he’d left on the dock next to him. His hands flew out to his sides to steady himself. He raised his head just enough to see over the brim of his hat and frowned. He didn’t recognize the young man walking towards him.

“Can I help you?” he asked softy, turning his face to hide the scars.

“I’m Sandy,” the boy said brightly, holding out his hand. “The guy at the shop said you needed some help.”

Shy squinted up at the figure on the bank, Joe, who gave him a shrug and a thumbs up. Ever since the accident, he was extremely distrustful of new people, especially people who were new to the island. And this kid appeared to be both.

Ignoring the proffered hand, Shy eyed the kid wearily. “How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen. I know I look a lot younger, but I’m legal, I promise,” he gave Shy another bright smile, as if to affirm his harmlessness.

Shy glanced back up at Joe and let out a sigh. He could use the help after all, and the kid didn’t seem all that dangerous.

After a full morning of cleaning out boats and setting fishing gear, Shy was ready for a break. He was surprised that Sandy had kept up with him as well as he had. He would have figured, just looking at him, that Sandy was a rich boy stuck working for his summer fun. But he didn’t seem like that kind of kid.

“So what brings you down to Cayman?” Shy asked, sitting carefully on Sandy’s left side to keep half of his face shaded.

“I live with my uncle in the Keys. He came down here for the summer and I asked to tag along.”

“What does your uncle do?”

“He’s a fisherman. Do you fish?”

“Mmm,” Shy nodded, taking a long sip from his water bottle. “When I’m not working.”

“How old are you?”

Shy started at the question. For some reason that one caught him more off-guard than questions about his scars. Normally, that was the first thing anyone asked. Then again, living with one’s mother at his age, wasn’t exactly “normal,” either.

“I’m 23.”

“Really?” Sandy said. “I thought you were my age.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Shy replied, giving Sandy a sidelong glance. He checked his watch and stood up. “We should get back to work.”

*

Shy hadn’t really expected Sandy to return the next day. The work was hard, and the kid seemed really green. But he did. And he came back the day after that.

Before long, Shy had begun to anticipate Sandy’s arrival at the dock. Since Shy always got there early, he had about two hours to himself before Sandy showed up. He cherished his time alone, but he couldn’t help the feeling of his heart skipping a beat when Sandy appeared with his bright gap-toothed smile.

“Do you ever not smile?” Shy asked during their lunch breaks.

“What?” Sandy asked, looking up from his sandwich. The look on his face was adorably confused. “Sometimes.”

“It's nice. I like it,” Shy said softly, hoping he hadn’t just over-stepped his bounds.

“Thanks.”

They ate in silence for several moments.

“Are you just down here for the summer, then?” Shy asked, picking the crust off his bread as he searched for anything to keep their conversation going.

“Yeah,” Sandy replied. “My uncle and I are going back to the Keys in August.”

“Oh.” Shy couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“If this trip goes well, though, he is thinking about making more trips down here,” Sandy added quickly.

Shy nodded, but his good mood had deflated rather quickly. He finished his own sandwich and stood up. Their job didn’t leave much time to talk, anyway.

When they finished that evening, however, Sandy seemed as reluctant to part as Shy.

“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Sandy said, eyes flicking up to meet Shy’s dark gaze.

“Yeah,” Shy replied softly. Sometimes he could curse himself for being so quiet. The words just never came easily to his lips. He watched the taillights of Sandy’s uncle’s truck until they disappeared around the curve of the road. With a deep sigh, he straddled his bike and pedaled for home.

The days stretched between them. Their conversations stayed neutral and impersonal. It was driving Shy nuts. He just had to know.

“Can I—” Shy started and stopped short.

Sandy’s wide blue eyes looked up at him from where he was bent over a mop. “Can you what? Do you need this?” he asked, leaning the mop handle towards Shy.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Shy blurted.

“Sure,” Sandy replied slowly, eyebrows knitting together.

Shy wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I may have been completely reading this wrong, but—”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“I’m gay,” Sandy said.

“How did you know I was going to ask you that?” Shy asked, confusion settling over his face.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” Sandy smiled coyly and bent back over his mop. “Relentlessly.”

Shy’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water. He turned around and quickly busied himself to prevent Sandy from seeing his flushed face. Ruddy cheeks illuminated his scars, which made him even more self-conscious than normal.

By the time they stopped for lunch, much of Shy’s confidence had returned.

“So does your uncle know you’re gay?” Shy almost hesitated saying the word because he himself didn’t like to use it. He himself liked both men and women.

“Oh, yeah.” Sandy took a long swig from his water bottle and swallowed. “He caught me kissing one of the neighborhood boys in my room the summer I moved in with him. He didn’t really care, just gave me the ‘make sure you’re careful’ speech. I didn’t bother reminding him that I was only 14 at the time. He’s wanted to meet you, by the way. I mean, I work with you, so he was curious. Does your mom know you like men?”

“Well, I’m . . .” He took a long swallow of water to calm his nerves. “I actually like men and women, but I had a really bad breakup—I don’t date women anymore.” The admission was harder than he expected, and he looked down at the dock to avoid meeting Sandy’s eyes.

*

Finally, Shy worked up the courage to ask Sandy over for dinner. His mother was going to be gone for the weekend, so they’d be alone. Shy wasn’t even sure if the boy preferred men, but, as he’d told himself, what was the worst that could happen? Sandy would say no?

“I’d love to.”

“If you already have plans, or you’re totally not interested, I completely understand.” Shy had already launched into his speech before he realized that Sandy had said yes. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Unless you’re rescinding the offer already,” Sandy smiled at him. God, did the kid ever not smile?

“I—great.” Shy was so pleased, he couldn’t prevent a goofy smile from forming on his face.

After work, Shy dashed home as fast as his bike would take him. He took a quick shower to wash his hair and remove the nasty fishy-smell that seemed to cling to his skin. He toweled himself off and put on a clean shirt. He slid a bandana over his hair, briefly considering whether he should put on a hat to conceal his scar, but figured that if Sandy was ballsy enough to come over for dinner, than he should be ballsy enough to face him, scars and all.

Dinner was thrown together quickly—pasta with vegetables. Shy assumed Sandy was a meat-eater, but didn’t want to totally muck things up. Vegetarian-friendly, it was. He added some red wine to go with the pasta; Sandy wasn’t old enough, but one glass wouldn’t kill him.

A glance at the clock told him he still had an entire hour to kill before Sandy was due to arrive. The pasta would be fine on the stove, but Shy was likely to go crazy with anticipation. To keep himself occupied, he wandered around the house straightening little things that didn’t need to be straightened and generally just fiddled around, including shutting the door to his mother’s room.

When the doorbell finally rang, Shy nearly jumped out of his skin. He steadied himself and walked to the door, trying not to look like he’d just spent the last hour fretting.

The sight that greeted him nearly took his breath away.

Sandy was wearing a pair of jeans that actually fit, and a tight black tee shirt bearing the legend, “AARGH!” with a skull and cross bones beneath it. His hair was styled into an adorably artful mess, rather than the actual mess it usually was.

Sandy glanced over Shy’s outfit and then back at himself. “Am I underdressed?” he asked, giving Shy a crooked grin.

Shy realized he’d been staring. “Oh, no, no! Please, come in. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face to dispel the blush that had spread across his cheeks.

Sandy stepped in and toed off his shoes, leaving him in bare feet. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. Would you like some wine?” Shy asked, leading him into the kitchen.

“Sure.”

Shy poured two glasses and handed Sandy one. He’d set the table earlier during his fidgety hour, so he didn’t have to worry about that. After placing the pasta and the garlic bread on the table, he made sure the wine bottle was there as well, and took a seat across from Sandy. Their dinner was much more pleasant than Shy had anticipated. Sandy’s presence made him very comfortable, which was something he hadn’t felt with another person in a long time.

After dinner they settled on the couch together, wine glasses in hand.

“How did you get the name Shy?” Sandy asked, cocking his to the side.

Shy stuttered, almost spitting wine in his lap. “Sorry,” he said, wiping at the corner of his mouth. “When I was seven, I um . . . my dad was in a fight with some other fishermen. It turned violent and he died. I saw the whole thing. I didn’t speak to anyone until I was 12.” He shrugged. “It’s the only name anyone calls me anymore.”

“Does that have anything to do with your scars?”

Shy’s jaw clenched. He knew it was going to come up sooner or later, and if he was going to get through his issues about what happened to him, hiding and staying silent wasn’t going to do that.

He shook his head. “I was dating this girl a few years ago—my ex—Andrea. One night she snuck into her house while her parents were gone. My friend Kimo was outside . . . he was supposed to wake us up.” Shy paused; the emotion of the story was starting to overwhelm him.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I need to.” Shy took a deep breath and continued. “I climbed out the window, but her brother saw me leaving. He and her dad were so pissed. They claimed I raped her. To get even, her brother threw acid in my face.”

Sandy cupped a hand over his mouth. “I am so sorry, Shy. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s just something that is going to take a very long time for me to deal with.” This night was definitely not going the way Shy planned. He gulped a mouthful of wine, hoping it would calm his nerves. Sandy was staring at him intensely and Shy’s hand clenched around the stem of his wine glass. “What?”

Sandy gently eased the wine glass out of Shy’s hand. “I like you, Shy.”

“I like you, too, Sandy,” Shy replied, feeling his palms beginning to sweat as he watched Sandy set both their glasses on the coffee table. He knew where this was going, but he couldn’t help the nervous feeling in his stomach. He hadn’t been with anyone since Andrea.

Sandy leaned in a pressed a kiss against Shy’s lips. His mouth was warm and wet and sweet from the wine they’d been drinking. It was nothing like kissing a girl. Shy let his head fall back against the couch and Sandy was up and over him, straddling his lap in an instant. Shy was surprised, but pleasantly so. He wrapped his arms around Sandy’s wiry body as they kissed, savoring the flavor of the boy. Sandy gave little hitching moans into Shy’s mouth. The sound sent shivers of excitement straight to Shy’s cock.

But when Sandy brought a hand up to brush his fingertips over the scars on Shy’s face, however, he balked and jerked away from the kiss. “Don’t do that,” he said in a rushed breath.

“They don’t bother me,” Sandy said raising his hand again, but Shy grabbed his wrist.

“It bothers me,” he said, a bit more firmly than he meant to.

Sandy gently pulled his wrist out of Shy’s grasp and Shy let him go. Sandy’s fingertips were cool and gentle as they traced over the mottled skin of Shy’s cheekbone. Where Shy saw the deformity like a candle melted over a flame, Sandy saw only Shy. When he finished exploring the scars, Sandy leaned in and ghosted a kiss over Shy’s lips. “Where’s your room?”

Shy stood up, taking Sandy with him. Sandy squeaked and wrapped his legs around Shy’s waist. As they walked to the bedroom, Sandy placed small open-mouthed kisses on Shy’s neck.

“Do you want me to drop you?”

Sandy just giggled in reply.

Unceremoniously, Shy dropped Sandy down onto his bed and covered him with his own body. “Something about you,” he murmured against the fabric covering Sandy’s belly, “just drives me crazy.”

“Did I flip a switch or something?” Sandy asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“No . . . no,” Shy said, backing off a bit. “Just excited.” He slid his hands underneath Sandy’s t-shirt, pushing it up and off.

Sandy relaxed back into the sheets, letting Shy take over. Shy paid special attention to his nipples with his tongue, drawing moans and sighs from Sandy’s mouth. He unbuttoned and unzipped Sandy’s jeans, pulling his boxers down with them over narrow hips. Sandy’s erection sprang up and Shy caught it with his mouth, laving over the head with heated licks. Sandy groaned and bucked up into Shy’s mouth, fisting his hands in the sheets.

“Don’t want you to come yet,” Shy said, letting his hand take over for his mouth. He shucked his own shirt and shimmied out of his pants. “Could you grab the lube? It’s in the drawer to your left.”

Sandy stretched himself out, fumbling in the drawer. He came out victorious, tossing the tube to Shy. He drew his legs up to expose himself.

“You’ve done this before, right?” Shy asked, as he slicked himself.

“Yeah,” Sandy’s lip curled into a smile. “Have you?”

“Course,” Shy replied, leaning down to position himself against Sandy’s hole. He pressed forward, catching Sandy’s gasp with his mouth.

Their lovemaking was nothing like what Shy had with Andrea. Where she wanted him to be rough and fast, Sandy was content to have it slow and steady. For the first time, Shy actually felt a connection with someone during sex, rather than just having sex with someone he cared about.

As he got closer to the edge, his bandana began to slip, so Shy ripped it off distractedly and shook out his hair. Drops of sweat from his curls fell onto Sandy’s heaving body. Neither boy seemed to notice. Shy came with an elongated sigh, breathing heavily into Sandy’s ear. Sandy was just behind him, coming in spurts across their stomachs.

Shy collapsed on the bed next to Sandy to catch his breath. He rolled his head to the side—showing Sandy his scars this time—and smiled lazily.

“I never thought I’d do that again,” he said with a great sigh.

Sandy smiled back, sated and comfortable. “Well, I hope you plan to do it again.”

Shy chuckled and pulled Sandy against him. Maybe it was time to let those old fears and insecurities go.

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