Some Have A Reason For Dreaming, The History Boys, Posner/Scripps, PG-13
Title: Some Have A Reason For Dreaming
Fandom: The History Boys
Pairing: Posner/Scripps
Rating: PG-13
He was on about Dakin again. He was always on about Dakin. What Scripps was finding more and more was that he didn't mind, just as he didn't mind when Dakin recounted his exploits with Fiona and the girls that came before her. It was surprising how similar the two conversations were, actually: scents and favorite body parts, tactical changes that might bring them closer to their goals, and what few successes they found.
He listened to both with similar bemusement, naturally interested in what he himself was not experiencing and bizarrely fascinated by their need to confess all details to him, as if his own romance with God provided him the power to absolve them from all sins they may commit or want to.
“Scripps, I won’t make it to the end of term like this,” Posner said with a slightly dramatic sigh and rested his chin in his hand.
Scripps looked up from his essay and followed Posner’s gaze to where Rudge, Akthar, Crowther, and Dakin had taken up a game of football, their studies momentarily forgotten. “If you put as much effort into studying Henry VIII as you do Dakin’s bottom, you’d have a scholarship for certain.”
Posner gave a rare grin, unashamed and slightly devilish, one of the ones that made Scripps wonder how they ever thought him young and meek, and Scripps laughed.
“Watch out. You’re getting to be more like him. And I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing to be.”
Posner considered this, lips pursed in concentration, fingers curled around the edges of his notebook. “Dakin’s so narcissistic that my being more like him might be the only chance I have.”
Shaking his head, he tapped the book in Posner’s lap with his pen. “Get back to work.”
For a moment there was silence broken only by the scratching of pens on paper, the occasional turn of a page, and the shouts of the others on the pitch.
"Why do you let me talk to you about it? About Dakin?"
"What d'you mean?" Scripps asked without looking up from his work.
"The others, they all roll their eyes and get a bit...well, squirmy."
He smirked, knowing all too well the way Timms would twitch uncomfortably when Posner dwelled on the subject for too long or the way Akthar would ignore the situation completely.
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"Why should it?"
With a sigh, Posner looked up from the notes he'd been recopying. "Stop answering my questions with other questions."
"No, it doesn't bother me. It doesn't bother the others either, not really. They just put it on lest someone think they fancy Dakin as well. Which half of us do, on some level, I suppose."
"Us?"
"Hm?"
Posner peered at him, pen still posed above the page. "You said, 'us,' not 'them.' ‘Half of us’ fancy Dakin."
He grinned and leaned back against the tree and repeated, "On some level. You're the only one who wants to fuck him." And it was funny, using that word in regards to Posner. He'd never really considered the possibility of David fucking anyone, but as soon as the word left his mouth, his brain scrambled to find matching images, and he had to pause to push them away before finishing his sentence. "But I reckon we all go a bit starry-eyed around him. He's just one of those people."
He looked up, squinting in the sun, as Dakin playfully shoved Crowther. Their laughter carried across through the cooling afternoon air, and yes, Dakin was one of those people.
+
They waited for Dakin at his locker, or rather, Scripps waited, as previously planned, and Posner stayed because he just couldn’t help himself. Dakin appeared, hair still wet from the showers, and smirked at Scripps over Posner’s head bent low over his textbook. Scripps shrugged.
“I’m seeing Fiona again this weekend,” Stu said as he gathered his things. “Pray for my sins, Scrippsy. I haven’t the time.”
“You aren’t….” Scripps stared at him with raised eyebrows. Last he’d heard Fiona was still resisting Dakin’s charms.
“Not yet. But.”
“But what?” Posner asked.
“It’s nothing you’d be interested in,” Dakin said.
“Says who?” Posner cried, his voicing rising a bit with indignation.
“You’re too young,” Dakin went on, and Posner rolled his eyes, returning to his books. “You’ve no interest in that sort of thing. You've never...." Scripps turned to see what Dakin was waiting for and watched as a grin slowly spread across his face.
Posner didn't look up.
"You've never done anything, have you? It only just occurred to me. You've never even kissed anyone. You’ve probably never even held hands, am I right?"
Scripps said nothing, watching as the ends of Posner's ears turned pink. That was what made him start to feel ill. Posner, in all his naivety, was unflappable, shoving aside their teasing with a good humored "Fuck off" and never showing a hint of embarrassment when he made a fool of himself about Dakin. But this wasn't just the usual jabs. There was something biting in Dakin's voice, something more demeaning than all the comments that had come in the years before.
"Leave it," Scripps said. "It's not as if you were some great expert before Fiona came along."
"Maybe not but I was a sight better off than him."
"Well, aren't you the lucky one that everything is always just so fucking easy for you," Posner snapped suddenly before slamming his book shut and walking as calmly as he could out of the room. The silence that followed was crushing. Posner rarely lost his temper with anyone, least of all Dakin.
"Why can't you just leave him be? Just because Irwin couldn't care less about you doesn't mean you have to go taking it out on him," Scripps said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"It's nothing to do with Irwin. I was only taking the piss," Dakin said, staring a bit wide-eyed after Posner.
Scripps shook his head and headed out the door, jogging to catch up with David’s determined strides.
“Go away,” Posner said as Scripps felt into step beside him.
“Go on, he didn’t mean it as bad as all that.”
Posner said nothing
"It's only because you embarrassed him in class today."
"What do you mean?"
"He doesn't have the guts to do what you do. The songs and all. He'd never ask Irwin to take his trousers off in the middle of a classroom."
"Irwin's a teacher," Posner pointed out.
"Even if he weren't. He'd be too scared of Irwin laughing at him. But you. You don't care what anyone thinks, you just want what you want and do what you please, and you don't care."
"If I cared what people thought of me, I'd be miserable."
"You are miserable."
"That's just Dakin. I'm miserable because I care what Dakin thinks."
Scripps sighed. "You shouldn't let it bother you. He likes you well enough, but he's never going to like you the way you want him to."
"I know that. That's what's so awful. Even knowing that, I still can't stop thinking about it, about him." He let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I'm pathetic."
"Only a bit," Scripps said and nudged him with his shoulder.
Posner gave him a sad half-smile. “Thanks.”
“What for?”
But Posner only shook his head, and they walked the rest of the way home in silence.
+
On Friday afternoons before Shabbat, Scripps went to Posner’s house. When they were boys, Mrs. Posner had let him practice on their piano as the Scripps family could never afford their own. Scripps hadn’t practiced in earnest in years, but the habit of following Posner home at the end of the school week had proved impossible to break. These days they used the time to study, help each other with their essays, find new endings to try to stump Hector with, and every once in a while, Scripps would play.
“Why didn’t you ever learn?” Scripps asked as he ran his fingers along the closed top. He’d always envied Posner this luxury and could never understand why he didn’t take full advantage of it.
“Don’t know. Singing was always easier.”
Scripps leaned back against the closed piano as Posner rifled through the records.
“You know all these, then? Why?”
Posner shrugged. “My parents, mostly. They like it.” He added a bit ruefully, “And I haven’t anything better to do.”
“Well, none of us do, really. Reckon that’s the glory of Sheffield.”
He pulled out one of the albums and wiped some dust from its cover. “Peter has sports. Akhtar has computer. You have God. Dakin has…other extracurricular activities. I have Streisand.”
Scripps crossed his arms against his chest and watched as Posner carefully slid a record back into its sleeve and placed it back on the shelf. He found himself smiling at the intensity with which Posner loved not just Dakin, but anything he found beautiful.
"What Dakin was saying that day. You really haven't...?"
Posner gave him a withering look before setting his jaw and returning his attention to the records.
"No, I'm not-.... I only thought that, well, maybe you just weren't saying...because you'd found a bloke or something." And it was true. The thought had crossed his mind on several occasions that Posner knew much more about life than he let on. And just as Scripps allowed Dakin to torture him with stories of Fiona, so he couldn’t help wanting to hear just what exactly Posner got up to, if anything.
He was surprised when Posner laughed. "I’ve enough trouble finding people who’ll actually talk to me like I’m an actual person. Where would I ever find someone who would want to kiss me?" It wasn't bitter, wasn't self-deprecating, just matter-of-fact as though Posner had never even considered such a thing were possible. He shook his head and turned back to the shelf, eyes raking the spines of the albums, searching.
Scripps took in Posner’s slowly fading smile and remembered his words to Dakin when he had propositioned Irwin and Dakin had accused him of being jealous: Not of the sex. Just of you being up for it. And while Posner wasn't Irwin, he was startled to find that this he was up for, this he could handle, if only just to see, to do something a bit reckless for once, something shocking. So before he could take the time to find a reason why it was not a good idea, and he was sure there were many, he stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the back of David's neck and caught one flash of blue eyes going wide before he shut his own and pressed their lips together.
For Posner's sake, he wished he could say it was different from the few girls Scripps had kissed before setting his eyes on worthier goals. But Posner, though a couple of inches taller than him, was soft and gentle, except for the sharp angles of his hips which stepped into his own after a second. And fleetingly, Scripps wondered if Posner really was having him on because it certainly felt like he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was easy to get lost in, lips pulling, the tip of a tongue slipping out to find his own, but when Posner's trembling fingertips touched the side of his face, Scripps remembered himself, and he pulled back. Posner's hand dropped immediately, and Scripps half expected him to turn and run because part of him felt like doing the same. But Posner remained, eyes closed, catching his breath, and Scripps found himself waiting, feeling Posner's racing pulse beneath his fingers.
"You didn't have to do that," Posner said after a moment. “Just because I’m….”
Scripps let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "I know," he replied.
David exhaled slightly shakily and opened his eyes.
“All right?”
Scripps received a grin in response, and Posner shook his hand off. The tips of his ears had gone pink. "Doesn't this break your vow of chastity?"
David continued to stare at him, large eyes, unblinking. They looked the same as they ever had, but something about him had changed, and Scripps couldn't place it. There was something less of the eager puppy about him somehow. More grounded, he thought. This wasn’t the game it was with Dakin, something intangible and therefore without consequences; it was real, and that changed things. For both of them.
"I won't tell if you don't. Besides, if we're playing by God's rules, I'm already going to Hell just for thinking it."
Posner bit his lip and looked away. Scripps shrugged with a smirk and hid his hands in his pockets as they were already looking to be reminded that Posner's skin had really been that warm and that soft.
Fandom: The History Boys
Pairing: Posner/Scripps
Rating: PG-13
He was on about Dakin again. He was always on about Dakin. What Scripps was finding more and more was that he didn't mind, just as he didn't mind when Dakin recounted his exploits with Fiona and the girls that came before her. It was surprising how similar the two conversations were, actually: scents and favorite body parts, tactical changes that might bring them closer to their goals, and what few successes they found.
He listened to both with similar bemusement, naturally interested in what he himself was not experiencing and bizarrely fascinated by their need to confess all details to him, as if his own romance with God provided him the power to absolve them from all sins they may commit or want to.
“Scripps, I won’t make it to the end of term like this,” Posner said with a slightly dramatic sigh and rested his chin in his hand.
Scripps looked up from his essay and followed Posner’s gaze to where Rudge, Akthar, Crowther, and Dakin had taken up a game of football, their studies momentarily forgotten. “If you put as much effort into studying Henry VIII as you do Dakin’s bottom, you’d have a scholarship for certain.”
Posner gave a rare grin, unashamed and slightly devilish, one of the ones that made Scripps wonder how they ever thought him young and meek, and Scripps laughed.
“Watch out. You’re getting to be more like him. And I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing to be.”
Posner considered this, lips pursed in concentration, fingers curled around the edges of his notebook. “Dakin’s so narcissistic that my being more like him might be the only chance I have.”
Shaking his head, he tapped the book in Posner’s lap with his pen. “Get back to work.”
For a moment there was silence broken only by the scratching of pens on paper, the occasional turn of a page, and the shouts of the others on the pitch.
"Why do you let me talk to you about it? About Dakin?"
"What d'you mean?" Scripps asked without looking up from his work.
"The others, they all roll their eyes and get a bit...well, squirmy."
He smirked, knowing all too well the way Timms would twitch uncomfortably when Posner dwelled on the subject for too long or the way Akthar would ignore the situation completely.
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"Why should it?"
With a sigh, Posner looked up from the notes he'd been recopying. "Stop answering my questions with other questions."
"No, it doesn't bother me. It doesn't bother the others either, not really. They just put it on lest someone think they fancy Dakin as well. Which half of us do, on some level, I suppose."
"Us?"
"Hm?"
Posner peered at him, pen still posed above the page. "You said, 'us,' not 'them.' ‘Half of us’ fancy Dakin."
He grinned and leaned back against the tree and repeated, "On some level. You're the only one who wants to fuck him." And it was funny, using that word in regards to Posner. He'd never really considered the possibility of David fucking anyone, but as soon as the word left his mouth, his brain scrambled to find matching images, and he had to pause to push them away before finishing his sentence. "But I reckon we all go a bit starry-eyed around him. He's just one of those people."
He looked up, squinting in the sun, as Dakin playfully shoved Crowther. Their laughter carried across through the cooling afternoon air, and yes, Dakin was one of those people.
+
They waited for Dakin at his locker, or rather, Scripps waited, as previously planned, and Posner stayed because he just couldn’t help himself. Dakin appeared, hair still wet from the showers, and smirked at Scripps over Posner’s head bent low over his textbook. Scripps shrugged.
“I’m seeing Fiona again this weekend,” Stu said as he gathered his things. “Pray for my sins, Scrippsy. I haven’t the time.”
“You aren’t….” Scripps stared at him with raised eyebrows. Last he’d heard Fiona was still resisting Dakin’s charms.
“Not yet. But.”
“But what?” Posner asked.
“It’s nothing you’d be interested in,” Dakin said.
“Says who?” Posner cried, his voicing rising a bit with indignation.
“You’re too young,” Dakin went on, and Posner rolled his eyes, returning to his books. “You’ve no interest in that sort of thing. You've never...." Scripps turned to see what Dakin was waiting for and watched as a grin slowly spread across his face.
Posner didn't look up.
"You've never done anything, have you? It only just occurred to me. You've never even kissed anyone. You’ve probably never even held hands, am I right?"
Scripps said nothing, watching as the ends of Posner's ears turned pink. That was what made him start to feel ill. Posner, in all his naivety, was unflappable, shoving aside their teasing with a good humored "Fuck off" and never showing a hint of embarrassment when he made a fool of himself about Dakin. But this wasn't just the usual jabs. There was something biting in Dakin's voice, something more demeaning than all the comments that had come in the years before.
"Leave it," Scripps said. "It's not as if you were some great expert before Fiona came along."
"Maybe not but I was a sight better off than him."
"Well, aren't you the lucky one that everything is always just so fucking easy for you," Posner snapped suddenly before slamming his book shut and walking as calmly as he could out of the room. The silence that followed was crushing. Posner rarely lost his temper with anyone, least of all Dakin.
"Why can't you just leave him be? Just because Irwin couldn't care less about you doesn't mean you have to go taking it out on him," Scripps said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"It's nothing to do with Irwin. I was only taking the piss," Dakin said, staring a bit wide-eyed after Posner.
Scripps shook his head and headed out the door, jogging to catch up with David’s determined strides.
“Go away,” Posner said as Scripps felt into step beside him.
“Go on, he didn’t mean it as bad as all that.”
Posner said nothing
"It's only because you embarrassed him in class today."
"What do you mean?"
"He doesn't have the guts to do what you do. The songs and all. He'd never ask Irwin to take his trousers off in the middle of a classroom."
"Irwin's a teacher," Posner pointed out.
"Even if he weren't. He'd be too scared of Irwin laughing at him. But you. You don't care what anyone thinks, you just want what you want and do what you please, and you don't care."
"If I cared what people thought of me, I'd be miserable."
"You are miserable."
"That's just Dakin. I'm miserable because I care what Dakin thinks."
Scripps sighed. "You shouldn't let it bother you. He likes you well enough, but he's never going to like you the way you want him to."
"I know that. That's what's so awful. Even knowing that, I still can't stop thinking about it, about him." He let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I'm pathetic."
"Only a bit," Scripps said and nudged him with his shoulder.
Posner gave him a sad half-smile. “Thanks.”
“What for?”
But Posner only shook his head, and they walked the rest of the way home in silence.
+
On Friday afternoons before Shabbat, Scripps went to Posner’s house. When they were boys, Mrs. Posner had let him practice on their piano as the Scripps family could never afford their own. Scripps hadn’t practiced in earnest in years, but the habit of following Posner home at the end of the school week had proved impossible to break. These days they used the time to study, help each other with their essays, find new endings to try to stump Hector with, and every once in a while, Scripps would play.
“Why didn’t you ever learn?” Scripps asked as he ran his fingers along the closed top. He’d always envied Posner this luxury and could never understand why he didn’t take full advantage of it.
“Don’t know. Singing was always easier.”
Scripps leaned back against the closed piano as Posner rifled through the records.
“You know all these, then? Why?”
Posner shrugged. “My parents, mostly. They like it.” He added a bit ruefully, “And I haven’t anything better to do.”
“Well, none of us do, really. Reckon that’s the glory of Sheffield.”
He pulled out one of the albums and wiped some dust from its cover. “Peter has sports. Akhtar has computer. You have God. Dakin has…other extracurricular activities. I have Streisand.”
Scripps crossed his arms against his chest and watched as Posner carefully slid a record back into its sleeve and placed it back on the shelf. He found himself smiling at the intensity with which Posner loved not just Dakin, but anything he found beautiful.
"What Dakin was saying that day. You really haven't...?"
Posner gave him a withering look before setting his jaw and returning his attention to the records.
"No, I'm not-.... I only thought that, well, maybe you just weren't saying...because you'd found a bloke or something." And it was true. The thought had crossed his mind on several occasions that Posner knew much more about life than he let on. And just as Scripps allowed Dakin to torture him with stories of Fiona, so he couldn’t help wanting to hear just what exactly Posner got up to, if anything.
He was surprised when Posner laughed. "I’ve enough trouble finding people who’ll actually talk to me like I’m an actual person. Where would I ever find someone who would want to kiss me?" It wasn't bitter, wasn't self-deprecating, just matter-of-fact as though Posner had never even considered such a thing were possible. He shook his head and turned back to the shelf, eyes raking the spines of the albums, searching.
Scripps took in Posner’s slowly fading smile and remembered his words to Dakin when he had propositioned Irwin and Dakin had accused him of being jealous: Not of the sex. Just of you being up for it. And while Posner wasn't Irwin, he was startled to find that this he was up for, this he could handle, if only just to see, to do something a bit reckless for once, something shocking. So before he could take the time to find a reason why it was not a good idea, and he was sure there were many, he stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the back of David's neck and caught one flash of blue eyes going wide before he shut his own and pressed their lips together.
For Posner's sake, he wished he could say it was different from the few girls Scripps had kissed before setting his eyes on worthier goals. But Posner, though a couple of inches taller than him, was soft and gentle, except for the sharp angles of his hips which stepped into his own after a second. And fleetingly, Scripps wondered if Posner really was having him on because it certainly felt like he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was easy to get lost in, lips pulling, the tip of a tongue slipping out to find his own, but when Posner's trembling fingertips touched the side of his face, Scripps remembered himself, and he pulled back. Posner's hand dropped immediately, and Scripps half expected him to turn and run because part of him felt like doing the same. But Posner remained, eyes closed, catching his breath, and Scripps found himself waiting, feeling Posner's racing pulse beneath his fingers.
"You didn't have to do that," Posner said after a moment. “Just because I’m….”
Scripps let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "I know," he replied.
David exhaled slightly shakily and opened his eyes.
“All right?”
Scripps received a grin in response, and Posner shook his hand off. The tips of his ears had gone pink. "Doesn't this break your vow of chastity?"
David continued to stare at him, large eyes, unblinking. They looked the same as they ever had, but something about him had changed, and Scripps couldn't place it. There was something less of the eager puppy about him somehow. More grounded, he thought. This wasn’t the game it was with Dakin, something intangible and therefore without consequences; it was real, and that changed things. For both of them.
"I won't tell if you don't. Besides, if we're playing by God's rules, I'm already going to Hell just for thinking it."
Posner bit his lip and looked away. Scripps shrugged with a smirk and hid his hands in his pockets as they were already looking to be reminded that Posner's skin had really been that warm and that soft.