Title: Knowing You Behind Your Back
A/N: I wrote this with a pretty vague memory of the earlier seasons, so it could qualify as AU. I didn't pay precise attention to timeline, I just sat and wrote. I'm actually pretty satisfied with the result. Unbeta'ed so all spelling and grammar errors are my own.
Sean had never invited Emma over, not because he didn't want, but she figured it was because he was embarrassed about where he lived or maybe in the conditions he lived in. It wasn't as if she was naive to the fact that he was living with his brother and that they were both probably not the neatest people in existence, yet it still surprised her when he changed the venue of their study date to his house.
"... I thought you said your house was too 'messy'," She mused as she carefully stepped over a shattered beer bottle.
"That was before Track got a new girlfriend, man, he's whipped," He grinned at her, Sean rarely ever smiled….he was always so rough and serious at school. And even though she didn't really appreciate the fact that made him smile....she found herself smiling back.
"So, he cleans everyday or something?"
"Pretty much, I wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing an apron and cooking," Sean said as he took her hand and carefully wove through the messy front yard.
Emma greeted Tracker with a smile, but Sean dragged her in before he could even respond. Tracker was a nice person; he took Sean in when he came from Wasaga. That story was already told and reshaped by everyone at Degrassi. Sean was the bad boy, the bully, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Tracker took him in, they were family. Tracker housed him, fed him, kept him in school and tried to keep him out of trouble. Even so, they didn't have a good relationship. Tracker normally gave Sean a hard time and he gave her a hard time too, but it was good-natured. Well, she didn't really take any of his remarks seriously.
He shut the door against the loud music that was booming from the car Tracker was working on. Sean deposited his book bag in one of two recliners, and went into the kitchen; she looked around trying to imagine what the place would have looked like had Tracker's girlfriend not forced him to clean. The living room was small and shabby; an entertainment center taking up most of the space, a small coffee table between the two recliners was heaped with car magazines and mail in two neat piles.
Sean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was scratching the back of his head a sheepish little boy gesture. She couldn't help but smile. "All we've got is coke and some left-over pizza, sound good?"
"Sounds good," She agreed, "Where's your room?"
"Uh, don't go in there yet….I need to put away some stuff!" He called from the kitchen; she heard the refrigerator close with a clinking of glass, the microwave start with a low hum.
Sean finally emerged with the pizza, it was soggy, and the first bite burned her tongue but it was good. Sean set his plate down on the stack of magazines and went to his room. She assumed to shove things under his bed and into his closet. She really didn't mind the mess, it was nice that he was cleaning it for her but she'd rather he'd clean it for himself.
"Sean?" She called from the hallway.
"I'm done in here!" He answered and the door swung open. He wedged past her to retrieve his pizza.
His room didn't look like a normal teenager's room. It was not plastered with posters; the shelf space wasn't dominated by a long past but treasured childhood obsession. Sean wasn't the normal everyday teenager, but she did secretly hope to learn more about him. There wasn't much to go on... a rumpled but clean bed, the sheets were a deep rich blue. A large chest of drawers shoved against the wall, the wood was scratched and in need of sanding and varnishing. There was a small television perched on top of the chest of draws topped with an antenna. There was a small stereo system beside his bed, messy wiring and tinny sound. There were CDs stacked on the edge of the table, and when she settled on the bed, she noticed more stacked on the floor. It didn't look like he categorized, and she giggled at the thought.
Sean returned, he quickly toed off his shoes and plopped onto the bed.
"Okay, let's start with ... Algebra." She said with a grin.
He groaned.
She should have known when Sean went for the pillow that their study session was over. She'd just finished explaining how to graph points on a coordinate plane, Sean didn't grunt to indicate that he indeed was listening; all she heard were deep dreamy breaths.
There was something about sleep that made even the toughest person look vulnerable and child-like. Sean was no exception, he looked like a napping kindergartner, she smiled. Emma hadn't had a chance to explore his room, and Sean didn't exactly take her on a tour, not that there was much to tour anyway.
She crossed the room to his drawers; the drawers were obviously not the place where folded clothes went, but the place where anything that passed inspection was shoved into the available space. Opening the drawers took a lot more strength then she anticipated but they finally gave way. Carefully she removed the shirts she found there, folded them, and then placed them back neatly. They were all worn and soft; some were threadbare at the ends, the ones with little rips and holes she placed in a special pile, she could fix those and bring them back.
It took nearly an hour to fold everything in his drawers, and she thought he'd be up by then, but when she looked back he'd just shifted positions on the bed. He'd knocked down all her notes in the process. "Sean ..."
She knelt down to collect her notes and homework that were now scattered across the room, scattered even further by the ceiling fan that was always on its highest setting. "Gosh," she said and reached under the bed for her notes on x and y intercepts when her fingers bumped into some solid. She lifted the comforter to peek. It was a small cardboard box, the flaps of which were held together with bits of torn scotch tape.
She reached for the box, it was heavier than it looked, and then she quickly checked that Sean was still sleeping. Though his deep breathes and occasional snores were sign enough. Thin deft fingers took their time carefully removing the scotch tape. The box hadn't been opened for some time as dust had collected both on the top and inside of it.
When it was opened, she was greeted by an action figure laid on its side. It was Batman. That paint was worn to the tan-colored plastic in some places, and he looked slightly deformed. Most likely from being left behind in the hot Wasaga sun. She set the action figure aside, and pictures formed in her head; she could picture a triumphant little boy, a little boy with his action figure making games with whatever bits he could find.
Under the action figure were comics, still in good condition but speckled with dust. She lifted them out as well. She could picture a smaller Sean perched on the porch, his tongue between his teeth in deep concentration. Emma could see little Sean darting inside and interrupting his mother's housework to ask about the pronunciation of a certain word, or its meaning. She rested her fingers on the comics, a tenuous yet solid connection to Sean's past.
There were photographs under the comics, Sean's parents she imagined. They weren't framed, and most were creased or torn. Maybe they were not important enough to be frame to Sean, memories not important enough to remember just placed in a box and tucked away under a bed. She found a picture of a young Sean, a handful of years before he went 'bad'. He was standing in a small cheap boat in bright blue swim trunks; a fish was dangling at the end of his fishing pole. Maybe a first fishing trip, he had a big silly grin on his face, his father did too and his thumb was thrust upwards. They looked happy enough; she wondered what happened between then and Sean being shipped off to Degrassi.
There were others, birthday parties, Christmases, they weren't in good condition; discolored and stained. There were few of his mother and one of his mother and him. She wondered how long it would be until he looked into the box again, or if he would ever open it. Maybe he was content to have them with him, Sean didn't seem like a very sentimental person.
Sean began to murmur and she placed everything quickly and carefully back into the box, and the shoved it underneath the bed again with her foot. "Em," He said hoarsely, "Emma?"
"Down here! You kind of knocked my notes all over the place," There wasn't any anger, Sean just yawned and looked at the time.
"I was out like an hour, geez, sorry," He rubbed his eyes. "What'd you do?"
"I folded all your clothes." She said grinned, as she discreetly placed the shirts that needed mending into her backpack.
"Thanks, I guess," Sean, said raising an eyebrow.
"Well, are you going to walk me home?"
"Yeah, yeah, let's go."