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Feels Like I Can't Compete With

Summary:

Shaun wants to move forward in his relationship with Lea, but the past keeps getting in the way.

Notes:

The title is from the song "Fears" by MTNS.

Lea is an Aspie :) No, seriously, autistic Lea is my headcanon forever and always.

Please read the tags and please take care of yourself, first and foremost. Know that this is a story about processing childhood trauma in the context of a new romantic relationship. This includes the abuse Shaun experienced at the hands of his father as well as the bullying he experienced from other kids, including the incident with Colleen. I've tried to tag for triggers, but please let me know if I should add any additional tags/trigger warnings.

I have attempted to handle the subject matter in this story with care and respect. Although I am a trauma survivor myself, my experiences have not been the same as Shaun's. I apologize if anything feels inaccurate or disrespectfully written and I am open to feedback.

Chapter 1: That One Thing

Chapter Text

            “Oh my God,” Lea groaned, dumping her double handful of grocery bags on the floor of the apartment as soon as she crossed the threshold. “That grocery store is terrible. The way that it’s organized makes no sense! We were in there for an hour and a half, Shaun. Honestly, I don’t know how you handle it. I’m never going back there again.”

            She pushed the door closed behind her boyfriend, who had entered the apartment shortly afterwards and was poised in the entryway, still loaded down with grocery bags. Then, abandoning the food she’d carried in entirely, she flopped down on the couch, sinking deep into the cushions, legs splayed out in front of her.

            Shaun carefully stepped over the dropped groceries and made his way into the small kitchen that, given the open floor plan, felt more like part of the living room than its own separate location. He set down his grocery bags on the table neatly and began rummaging inside of them for the perishables. He always put those away first. It went: refrigerated (spoiled fastest), frozen (because they stayed cold longer than refrigerated goods), non-perishables.

            “The groceries there cost less than where you usually shop. I helped you save money,” Shaun replied. “Rivka says that it is the best place to shop on a budget.”

            “That explains it,” Lea said. “Your assistant uses her freakish neurotypical powers to navigate that godawful nightmare. We didn’t stand a chance.”

            “You bought every item on your list,” Shaun responded, taking a stick of butter out of its box and sliding it onto the butter shelf in the refrigerator door. He put the leftover three sticks into the freezer.

            “Yeah, but I have a headache now,” Lea whined. “You’re a doctor. Come fix it for me.”

            “These groceries will spoil if we leave them out at room temperature,” Shaun said. “Your headache is likely caused by stress. It will go away on its own.”

            “Alright,” Lea sighed dramatically, pushing herself up off of the couch and crossing over to the table, “I’ll help you get these put away. I guess that trip will have been a total waste of time and effort if all of the food spoils while I bitch about it on the couch. Sorry,” she added, seeing Shaun flinch, “I know you don’t like that word.”

            “I don’t,” Shaun confirmed, noticing with relief that the eggs were in one of his bags and therefore had not endured Lea’s rough treatment. He reached his hands forward to pick up the carton and Lea intercepted them, gently pressing her open palms against Shaun’s.

            “Hey,” she said, her tone softer than before, “thank you for going to the grocery store with me. It was really nice to have you come.”

            Shaun blushed and pushed his hands against hers affectionately. They lingered there for a moment before she pulled away abruptly and ran to the entryway. “Oh my God, Shaun, I think I dropped the eggs!” she cried.

            “You didn’t. They are in this bag,” Shaun replied, lifting them up to show her before putting them away.

            Lea gathered up the grocery bags that she had dropped and brought them over to the table. The two finished putting them away in comfortable silence, and Shaun finished the task by throwing the empty grocery bags away and wiping down the table with all-purpose spray.

            “You’re neurotic,” Lea remarked affectionately, nevertheless crossing to the sink and washing her hands. Then she reached out and ruffled Shaun's hair. His eyes fluttered closed and the smallest smile played at the corners of his lips. “I’m burnt out,” she stated, then slipped into a murmur. “Come sit on the couch with me.”

            Shaun obliged, perching on his usual seat on the far right of the couch, as close to the side as possible without touching it. Leah arranged a pillow on the seat cushion just next to Shaun’s lap and lay down, swinging her legs up over the arm of the couch. She reached up and pushed her hair back from under her neck, draping it over Shaun's lap, and settled comfortably into the soft pillows.

            Shaun tentatively reached out a hand and pushed his fingers through Lea’s hair, as though a part of him still did not believe he was allowed to do this. A satisfied smile spread across her face in response, and she closed her eyes. Emboldened, Shaun began to play with her hair with more confident fingers, twisting strands around his fingers before pulling his hand through and letting go. Once he was able to relax, it was easy to lose himself in the sensation. Lea had recently colored her hair, wine red streaks now adorning her natural dark brown hue. In the shadow, they almost blended in, but where the lamplight hit them they glowed. Shaun's hands manipulated patterns of shifting color in Lea’s hair.

            “Mmm, I’m glad you’re into the color,” Lea said.

            “It's nice,” Shaun responded softly. “And your hair is very soft.”

            “Deep conditioner,” she replied. “It comes with the dye -- it's supposed to heal any damage that happened from coloring it. But I can get a bottle at the drugstore.”

            “You're beautiful, Lea,” Shaun said. Then he continued to comb his hands through her hair.

            They relaxed this way in comfortable silence for several minutes. Then, abruptly, Lea made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Shaun startled. “It's really good when you sort of pull on it,” she said, by way of explanation. Something electric and unstable surged in Shaun's stomach. He tugged harder with each pass through of his fingers.

            The observable rate of the rise and fall of her chest increased. Thoughts that Shaun usually barred from entering his consciousness pushed themselves into his mind. Lea becoming aroused and impatient with him. Lea getting up and pulling him down on the couch underneath her. Expert fingers drifting down his body as she undid every button. Pushy, insistent hands palming his crotch before undoing that button too and pulling his pants down to his knees and -- Shaun's breath hitched as he tamped down the fantasy with the familiar inner mantra of stopstopstopstopstop. The prickle in his stomach acidified.

            Meanwhile, Lea stretched languidly, and Shaun pulled his hands back momentarily as she brought her arms back over her head, her back arcing and her t-shirt riding up, exposing a strip of her stomach. Then she relaxed again, her hands now resting in Shaun's lap. After she settled, Shaun hesitated for just a moment before experimentally gathering all of her hair into a ponytail in his hand, twisting it around itself several times firmly before letting it go. Lea’s whole body tightened, muscles clenching, and then released.

            Slowly, one of her hands that had been resting innocuously in Shaun's lap curled against his inner thigh. Her fingers lightly traced back and forth, back and forth. Shaun's mouth was entirely dry and he was entirely hard. He imagined her hand moving higher and higher with agonizing slowness until he was close to begging wordlessly, and then she'd acquiesce, finally she would -- stopstopstopstopSTOP. A cold sweat broke out all over Shaun. He fumbled to get his hand to listen to his brain properly, eventually able to slam his hand down against hers and still her touch.

            Lea froze, her fingers curling into a loose fist underneath Shaun's hand. Slowly, she withdrew her hand and rested it on her stomach. “Shaun…” she murmured.

            “I don't want to go any further,” he said, the words rehearsed from a list of phrases Rivka had written down on a sheet of printer paper, practiced over the course of many afternoons in front of the bathroom mirror. His gaze remained steadfastly fixed on the wall across from them, above and behind the television. His spine was rigid, his body motionless, save for his hands which came together to tangle in his lap.

            “We won’t,” Lea assured him, her voice almost a whisper. She withdrew her other arm off of his lap and hugged herself tightly. When Shaun did not respond, she added, “I’m sorry.” She craned her neck back and looked up at his face. He stared at the wall.

            Lea turned onto her side, facing the back of the couch, and drew her knees up to her chest. She butted her head gently against Shaun’s thigh. He made no response, did not reach out and touch her hair in a familiar gesture of comfort or even flinch away. She pulled back again and curled in on herself.

            Shaun's normally soft gaze had taken on an icy, glassy quality, like he was looking at the world through a one way mirror, on the side where Lea couldn't see him. Quashing her own feelings of upset, because Shaun was clearly struggling, Lea gathered some momentum and rolled herself off of the couch. She landed on her feet and made her way to the kitchen sink, filling a glass of water. She was disturbed to find that it almost felt like a ritual and she wondered for the umpteenth time how she managed to keep doing this. Breathing deeply in a forced, practiced manner, she brought the glass over to Shaun and waited in front of him until he took it with both hands and sipped slowly.

            Shaun felt like the water was waking up his body again, dragging him back to himself like he was being dragged out of bed. He blinked up at Lea hazily.

            “I’m sorry,” she repeated, her eyes on the tips of her sneakers.

            Shaun scoffed, that harsh little humourless laugh, and said, “Why are you sorry?”

            “Because,” she said miserably, “I made you uncomfortable. I keep making you uncomfortable.”

            “It isn't your fault,” Shaun insisted. “I encourage you to touch me.”

            “Yeah,” Lea pressed, “but it's my job to figure out the ways you want to be touched, and the ways you don't. This isn't like an all or nothing thing, Shaun.”

            “I liked being touched that way,” Shaun replied thoughtfully. “Then I didn't. So I told you to stop. You stopped. Your behavior was appropriate.”

            Lea sighed heavily. “So what do we do now?” she asked.

            In response, Shaun picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV. The sounds of an infomercial blared from the speakers, and Lea and Shaun both jumped slightly in unison. But Shaun made no move to lower the volume.

            Lea lowered herself gingerly onto the couch.

            “FOR JUST SIX PAYMENTS OF 19.99!” said the man on the screen.

            “That’s, like, over a hundred dollars,” Lea remarked sourly.

            “119 dollars and 94 cents,” Shaun responded, without missing a beat.

            “I probably would have been able to calculate that if I could actually hear myself think,” she replied, a touch of irritation creeping into her tone. “Turn that down.”

            Shaun complied. “I thought you said that you were sensory seeking,” he said. “That is the reason you listen to your music so loudly.”

            “Yeah, but it’s not like I spend my time stimming to tupperware commercials!” she snapped. Then she softened. “Not like there’s anything wrong with that…” she said softly.

            “Now you are angry,” Shaun remarked.

            “I’m not angry,” said Lea, gritting her teeth. “I’m just worn out.”

            “When you are angry, your tone of voice gets louder, just like this. You’re angry. Did I do something to make you angry?”

            “No! You did not do anything, Shaun!” Lea exclaimed, her voice rising again.

            “Are you angry because you wanted to have sex with me and I wouldn’t have sex with you?” he asked.

            “No!” she cried, clenching and unclenching her fists. “That is an unfair accusation! I’m angry because I have no clue what the hell is going on!”

            “I don’t understand,” said Shaun, twisting his fingers together.

            “Like, the freezing up! The glassy expression! When this happens, it’s like you’re not even there anymore…” Suddenly, her whole body froze. When she spoke again, there wasn’t any anger in her tone. “Wait. Did something… has something ever happened to you? Like…” she trailed off, unable to articulate what she meant.

            “Nothing has happened to me!” Shaun yelled. The force of it shocked them both into a momentary silence, before he pushed himself off the couch and ran out the door.

            Lea made no move to follow after him. She sat, in stunned silence, and chewed on the edge of her t-shirt. Finally, she reached over for the remote and turned off the TV. Then she crumpled in on herself, lying down again with her knees tucked up against her chest, blinking back tears.

            Meanwhile, back in his own apartment, Shaun was pacing. If he just kept moving, sometimes that would keep that feeling from settling into him, feeling like it was filling him up. It felt like being touched when he didn’t want to be touched, but there was no one touching him and no way to make it stop. He slammed his fists against his forehead and tried to keep track of his breathing as it struggled to slip from his control. Nothing has happened to you. Nothing has happened to you. He repeated the words in his mind like a mantra.

            Finally, the feeling began to abate, and his breathing began to slow and become more manageable. He dropped down to sit on his bed, crossed his legs, and observed the way his hands shook as they rested against his knees. Nothing has happened to you, he repeated again. But another small voice in the back of his mind said, If that’s true, when Lea spoke, why could you only think of that one thing?