at swim, two boys

EVERWOOD: Ephram/Colin. Written before the end of S1 aired. Not mine.

WTF: Alternate takes and ending for Errata, by Punk Maneuverability and Tiffany Rawlins. This part was posted for the first Coming out of the WIP Closet amnesty day, 6 Feb 04. I like to think of this as Errata's Ephram, having a mid-summer night's dream.

WARNINGS: Sex. Death-talk. After-school special scenes.

NOTES: Sab said there was too much sex, Amber and I think Jae told me it wasn't quite in tune with the show, and then Greg Berlanti went and ruined everything, so I never bothered to fix it. As this remains, it's almost an AU to the story and the show, and a self-indulgent, sappy one at that. This Colin only really ever existed in our adolescent dreams. And while we're at it, the title never would have survived a final edit, but what the hell, it's an accurate description. I'm sure it says something that all these deleted scenes were ones I wrote, but despite all my disclaimers, there's stuff in here that makes me proud and remember why, for a semester or so, I was convinced Everwood was the best thing on television. This story owes everything to a few moles and, far more importantly, Punk.

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AT SWIM, TWO BOYS

"I can't wait for summer for real," Colin says, and Ephram nods. He can't wait to be done with school. He gets to go to New York in August and even if his dad's decided he should work and help pay for his own car instead of just buying him some big safe SUV like any other rich dad, he still has two months to do whatever he wants with whoever he wants without running into people in the hall.

"What do people even do here for the summer?" Ephram asks, and then catches himself. "What do you think they do?" It's Colin sort of first summer, too.

Colin has to do make-up English. "Yeah, but other than that. What do you think there is to do?"

"Yeah," Colin says quickly, "but also there's some places down Aspen Creek that are deep enough."

Colin laughs and his answer is sure. "It's water, man. It's a lot cleaner than whatever you swam in back East, I'm sure."

"You do know how to swim, right?" Colin asks, sipping on his shake. He looks up through his eyelashes and blinks slowly. He has a mole on his cheek and it disappears into a crease when he smiles around his straw. "Do you?"

"Yeah," Ephram says. "Of course." Ephram learned to swim in the pool at his dad's club, and they spent every summer on the beach or the boat. But swimming in a river sounds very Huck Finn and Ephram wonders if the two things are related but fundamentally different, like figure skating versus hockey. "Do, uh. Do you remember how?" Some things from before Colin still knows, he just doesn't know how he knows, or why some things and not others.

Colin wipes his mouth. "I think so. My dad says I learned when I was real little, so it's probably one of those things you never forget."

Not like kissing guys. Ephram's pretty sure that's not something Colin ever knew. If Colin knew how to kiss guys before, he probably would have known other things, too, and he probably would have tried those other things by now.

"Okay, like riding a bicycle would be bad," Colin says. "The first time I got on a bike this year I didn't make it out of the driveway. I can't fall and hit my head again if I'm in the water."

"But I figure," Colin says, stretching one hand across the table, "that if you're there, I'm not gonna drown or anything. Right?"

"No drowning," Ephram says with a small smile, and Colin slowly draws his hand back.

"Good. 'Cause a swimming hole's so much better than a pool, and it's not too hot because of all the trees and shade, and it's. You know. Quiet."

"Oh," Ephram says. God, Colin probably has moles, like, everywhere. Ephram's not sure he's going to be such a good lifeguard. He'll probably forget to breathe a lot.

They walk across a wide grassy field and through an aspen grove, Colin talking about The Great Gatsby. He waves one hand around and reaches out the other to break off branches and leaves, casting them to the side of some trail that exists only to his eyes.

Ephram follows by alternately staring at Colin's tennis shoes and his ass. Following Colin's shoes means he doesn't trip over his own feet but it's far less interesting, because it turns out that Colin has a really great ass. Now that he's officially noticing another's guy's ass. Not officially like he's told anyone, including Colin. Especially Colin. Officially like he's admitted it to himself, and being as how he's the ultimate authority on how he feels about guys and Colin, Ephram thinks it's okay he's kept it to himself so far.

"-- and so the whole point," Colin is saying, "is that the guy isn't who he says at all, he's got this whole really boring life and one day he just, you know. Decided to be someone else." Colin reaches one arm above his head and splits an aspen leaf down the middle of its heart-shaped leaf.

"Uh-huh," Ephram says. He's following Colin's ass down to the watering hole, or the swimming hole, whatever they call it, this river Colin says he kind of remembers from when he was five or six. Ephram's really hoping that Colin asked someone how to get there because he has absolutely no interest in trying to remember which berries are plants and which just look like they'll kill you.

"So, I read the book, but now I have to do this -- I swear, it's total retard English, I have to make a diorama. Do you think your sister has any glitter?"

Colin suddenly stops walking and Ephram bumps hard into his back, steadying himself with his hand between Colin's shoulderblades. Colin's shirt is damp and warm and Ephram draws his open fingers together. He swears Colin's skin jumps at the movement. Ephram looks down and now he's not just noticing Colin's ass, he's honestly thinking quite a bit about whether he could just put his hands on it and squeeze a little.

Colin leans back a fraction of an inch and says, breathily, "We're here." Ephram almost asks where, but there they are, slender white-barked trees rising all around them and a muddy slope sliding into a hole of muddier-looking water.

"That doesn't look very clean," he says, and his own voice sounds kind of husky, which is almost but not quite as bad as if it'd cracked. He sounds like he feels, like he's trying to pull one over on Colin, like this was all his idea and now that he's got them alone he can have what he really wants.

"It's just dirt," Colin says, shrugging. His shoulders go up and down and Ephram realizes his hand is still on Colin's back. A hot breeze blows across them. Summer here is like a hair dryer in your face. Colin turns his cheek a little, talking back at Ephram, and says, "It's probably better for you than chlorine, you know."

What he wants is so big that Ephram drops his hand to his side and takes a half-step to the side. "Okay, but if I grow gills or some blood-sucking creature gloms onto my skin, I'm bailing."

Colin laughs bright and sunny and strips off his shirt one-handed, skidding down along the slick patch of grass. "You don't have to play scared city boy with me," he says, kicking off his shoes and bending over to peel off his socks. He stands up and smirks in Ephram's direction. "I know you secretly like all this nature stuff."

Ephram closes his eyes for a second when his head's inside his shirt, trying to catch his breath. "My dad took me kayaking once last year before we left New York. In the Hudson River, we were supposed to go paddle down to the Statue of Liberty."

"Uh, and there was a dead cat floating in the river and Delia threw up so we went back without the guide." Ephram swallows as Colin pushes his shorts down. He's not wearing a suit, just gray boxer briefs.

Ephram's wearing swim trunks under his cargo shorts because they didn't want to carry big bags and his is mostly full of water and the fifteen kinds of snacks his dad made Nina help him make when Ephram said he was going on a hike. And because Ephram hadn't wanted to assume that just because he's admitting things now that Colin is, too.

"Do you want me to go first and check for dead cats?" Colin asks, so deadpan that for a second Ephram thinks he's being protected and not mocked, but then Colin's smile breaks.

"Seriously we're doing this in the buff?" Ephram asks, heart thrumming as he tugs his shorts down.

"Those," Colin says, gesturing at Ephram's long black and red trunks, "aren't going to make any difference for that." Then he pushes down the elastic on his underwear with the heels of his hands, smiling and not looking away as the fabric falls around his ankles.

Ephram blinks slowly and stupidly, like Colin on his first day of school, the first day they met. And good Christ, he does have moles everywhere. Almost everywhere. Ephram doesn't look all the way down, but his eyes migrate south and there's a perfect brown dot on Colin's hipbone.

He's looking at Colin's hipbone, and Ephram jerks his head back up, sweat blooming on his forehead, but Colin's just staring at him now, mouth open. Just like he was right after the last time Ephram kissed him, the last day of school when they drove to Denver and sat at this cafŽ near the university and Colin ordered lemonade and Ephram didn't care that they were in public, he just had to lean across the table and press his lips up against Colin's mouth.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of his trunks, slides them down and off, trying to remember that he's kissed Colin and Colin's kissed him and so Colin probably likes him at least a little, and then he's stepping out of the pile of nylon. Colin turns to the river in one smooth circle and hollers and jumps in, the sudden burst of water noise pushing out Ephram's inner dialogue.

Ephram jumps in, realizing at the last minute that he has no idea how deep the hole is or if he's about to break his neck, but his toes touch slick, slimy mud and he easily pushes back to the surface. It's cold but not shockingly so, and in the small part of his brain that's still thinking rationally he wonders if they're just really far from all the glaciers or if the river is a separate thing altogether from that water. He flicks his hair out of his eyes, breathing in and treading a little. It's just over head deep.

Colin emerges, hair slicked back and shaking like a dog. He can stand up where he is and the water laps at the curve of his ribs. It's not anywhere near as embarrassing as it should be that they're so naked and the water isn't really all that dirty but actually pretty clear. Ephram kicks over until he can feel the river bottom under his toes. Colin takes a step closer and then they're less than an arm's length away from each other.

"I told you it'd be great," Colin says, wiping water out of his eyes. Ephram does the same, but it's great, it totally doesn't sting like when you forget your goggles at a pool. Nature is so cool.

"I told you," Colin says, and he reaches out and puts his hand on the back of Ephram's neck, pulling him into a kiss. Colin's mouth tastes like water and dirt and the aspen leaves rustle overhead like a stage whisper for everyone to hear. Colin's other hand comes up and Ephram has about two too many arms for this to be anything but awkward. But Colin just kisses him softly and it's a real kiss, not like the others, a kiss that goes on and he has to breathe in the middle it's so long, like a conversation that won't stop. Ephram bumps his nose against Colin's and Colin adjusts the angle by moving his hand up and over Ephram's shoulder, wrapping his hands behind Ephram's head.

Ephram's hands are trapped between their chests. He wants to spread his hands wide on Colin's muscled chest, and the next time they stop for a breath, he does it. He's stopped wishing for things he can't have, and Colin isn't waiting to admit something, he's just doing it.

Ephram pushes his thumb down on Colin's nipple and stretches his pinkie across to a little cluster of dark freckles on his other pec, reaching for an octave of skin. Ephram's been watching Colin progressively unwind himself from scarves and jackets and longsleeved shirts and gym shorts and the spots on his skin don't feel as different as they look but they feel, god, they feel great. Colin is defined, curved and solid where Ephram has bone and skin. He feels very narrow pressed chest-to-chest like this, a stick figure, but Colin doesn't seem to notice how Ephram's ribs poke out, he's just running his hands in circles over Ephram's back.

Colin shifts his weight, moving closer, and Ephram's hand slides across the skin until he could play an underwater sonata on Colin's stomach. Colin laughs when he tries, low and throaty, kissing Ephram again and Ephram realizes with a flush that they must have stopped, he must have been staring. Colin doesn't seem to mind. They're almost the same height in the sticky silt and Colin's shoulders hunch forward, like they have a secret. The back of Ephram's hand brushes low and weightless against Colin's hipbone and when Colin pushes forward, hand sliding down from his back to cup his ass, Ephram's hand spreads wide across his own dick, knuckles tucked against Colin's.

Colin whispers, hot and breathy in his ear, something like "yeah" or "good," but Ephram really has no idea because there's mud between his toes and grass stuck on Colin's cheek and both their hands are grabbing whatever slippery flesh is closest. Every time his elbow bobs above the surface there are air bubbles and splashes and it's like the most pornographic bath ever, better than anything in the anime DVDs in the box under his bed. He almost can't figure out whose hand is where on what until there's a tight, twisted slide on his dick that he knows he's never done to himself. He tries to do the same thing back and Colin bites down on Ephram's ear, sharp bright chords of pain. Ephram straightens his knees so he doesn't fall.

"Sorry," Colin gasps, but he isn't really, Ephram doesn't think, and that's good because Ephram, he just had no idea. Colin's arm is around his waist and one foot is tucked behind Ephram's ankle and concentric circles ripple around them like one great big shimmer of sun through the trees and Ephram loves nature right now, it's so cool, it's great, it's the best thing in the world after how Colin's hand and his fit together so well, jerking them both. He comes suddenly even though he thinks maybe he's been waiting for this for months, for years, since before he knew what he liked or why. Colin grunts and clamps his mouth down again, hard, right on Ephram's collarbone.

In New York, Ephram thinks, brain blinking on and off like a neon sign, you can be crazy in front of everyone. You have to be, because there's nowhere else to do it. But here they are, being crazy, and no one's around to see it and Ephram is so glad, so happy to have this moment all to themselves. He's so glad that whatever the accident broke in Colin it made this work, pushed to the front of his brain what might have just stayed dormant somewhere for a while instead.

He's so glad that Colin figures things out without thinking them through to death, because the weight of Colin's cheek on his shoulder and the way Colin's arms drape around his waist is really the first truly good moment he's had since they got to Everwood. It's good and crazy and he just, he just had advanced groping. With a guy. On purpose. And it's not like he's going to go home and tell his dad about it or anything, but this is by far the most glad he's ever been they moved. A whole summer still to look forward to.

Colin sighs and skids his palm down the base of Ephram's back, over and around his ass. Ephram kisses his neck and says, "So," clearing his throat. "Does this whole swimming hole thing actually involve. Swimming?" He can still talk. That's a good sign. He'd probably give up talking if he had to in order to do that again, but still.

"Well, my feet are stuck in this squishy mud. I think it's swim or possibly die here."

Colin pulls Ephram's arms tight around his waist and tucks his nose up against Ephram's shoulder. His breath skates across Ephram's damp skin and he swears there's a smirk pressed against bitemarks. "What if I don't remember how to swim?" Colin asks.

Ephram laughs and Colin leans back out so they're nose to nose. "You'll die too," Ephram says. "Which means we're totally screwed because there's no one left to go for help."

Colin laughs and says, "Like I do." He kisses Ephram, holding his wrist. "There's no way I did that before and forgot it."

"You just want someone to do your English homework." He's joking but he can see it, him and Colin sitting at a picnic table with books and papers and his dad packs them pastrami sandwiches in a basket someone will have traded for an appointment. Or Colin can sit in the living room while Ephram practices the piano. A whole summer of this. There are three moles in a triangle shape on Colin's inner forearm and Ephram traces a perfect triangle through the skin.

Colin breathes in deep and exhales a little shakily. "No, I just want you to do my English homework."

His eyelids drop heavily, and Ephram laughs. Colin pouts with his eyes. "So what's the going price for dioramas these days? What do I get?"

Colin pushes him into the water, the splash like a joking slap against his skin. He feels all weightless and giddy floating on his back, like he can have anything he wants. "I'll give you swimming lessons," he says.

Ephram has a bruise on his collarbone the color of a ripe blackberry. That's what Colin says, anyway, because he remembers how every September he and Laynie would crawl into the bramble down by the Peterson ranch and come out covered head to toe in briars and sticky sweet fruit. Colin says he left tiny bites up and down Ephram's back but Ephram has to take Colin's word for that, too, because it's not like he has someone else to ask.

It's almost July, almost the fourth of July and Ephram is a little worried for no good reason at all, like the anniversary clock will strike midnight and Colin will remember he's not really like that. Ephram is so like that and as long as he's not the only one, he can basically deal.

"Ew," Colin says, licking Ephram's neck just under the frayed edge of his t-shirt. "This one is turning green."

"Maybe you should bite it again," Ephram says, shrugging into the grassy slope. There's this field out by Womack's Hollow where they've seen bald eagles and white-tailed hare but never other people. Colin licks the bruise instead, fingers light and gentle on Ephram's chest. Ephram slides his hand into the back of Colin's jeans and pulls him up for a kiss. Ephram likes it out here because the two times Colin has slept over, he wasn't very good at being quiet. We were up late watching a movie, he told his dad in the morning while Colin helped himself to Cocoa Puffs. Ephram felt like he was getting away with the biggest lie in the world, but he didn't feel clever, just scared.

Their pants are pushed down around their ankles and Colin comes loudly, Ephram's name grunted out in a crescendo of moans. Ephram thinks he babbles but he's always too embarrassed after to ask. Colin settles in with his head tucked into Ephram's armpit. There are a million stars and a full moon. Ephram wonders what time it is but he doesn't care enough to ask Colin to move.

"So my mom keeps bugging me about going to the fourth of July thing as a family," Colin says. "She's decided it's a key component to my full emotional recovery. Since she's decided to care this week."

"Maybe by next week she'll forget." His dad says the things Colin doesn't remember by now he probably won't get back, and it's probably for the best. Because who wants to remember flying through a windshield and almost dying anyway. "Hey," he says, and Colin wiggles against him in response. "Are you ever sorry you're not dead?"

"Sure." Colin turns his face towards Ephram and kisses his chin. "Not right now."

One of those nights at Ephram's house at three or four in the morning they'd been a little stoned and played "Would you rather be dead than..." Ephram would rather be dead than have Delia catch him jerking off, eat meatloaf at the cafeteria, or play a recital with the composer in the audience. Colin would rather be dead than be a vegetable, have his grandmother see him naked, or watch a weekend marathon of Touched By an Angel.

"Do you ever wish, for real." Ephram pauses and Colin puts his arm around Ephram's waist. "Instead of not remembering four months and everyone being upset all the time. Do you ever wish --"

"Yeah," Colin says. "Sometimes. It would've been easier on everybody else." There's a long silence, and then Colin pushes up so he can put his head on Ephram's shoulder. "Do you ever wish you'd been in the car with her?"

"In rehab they kept talking about survivor guilt. I don't think we were really ready for that. We were still trying to keep our mouths closed when we ate."

"I used to pretend I was. With her. I used to think maybe I had been, and I was a ghost, and that's why no one knew what to say, you know. When they saw me. Because they just couldn't see. Except Delia. I could talk to Delia because she, she was a kid. So it was different, because kids see things."

Colin unwinds his fingers from Ephram's, picking up Ephram's arm and dropping it heavily back on his chest. "You feel real."

Ephram can feel himself blush and he'd duck his head but Colin's mouth is in the way.

They fall asleep and when Ephram blinks his eyes open it's almost light. They don't really talk as they walk home, and at the corner where Ephram turns one way and Colin goes the other there's this long forever of a moment. Normally Ephram just says "bye" and Colin says "see you later" and that's it. Colin stands on the sidewalk, kicking one sneaker into the gutter. He's holding Ephram's hand and finally, finally Ephram leans over and kisses him, just quick on the lips but it's apparently the right answer because Colin smiles wide and lets go. He waves as he walks backwards down the street. "Call you later," he says, and Ephram doesn't know what the hell to do except nod.

He comes in the front of the house and his dad's asleep on the couch, one of Nonnie's African throw blankets falling off his legs to the carpet. Shit. Ephram walks across the foyer very very quietly but either his dad was faking or he finally started sleeping like a nervous parent. He sits up straight and scrubs at his face with his hands. "Ephram," he says, squinting at his watch.

"Sorry," Ephram says. Maybe he can make it upstairs before his dad wakes up enough to read the time.

"Ephram." He turns back because his dad actually sounds mad. He's standing on the other side of the couch with the blanket in one hand. He looks like Linus. Like a very pissed off, very bearded Linus. "It's five-thirty."

"Oh," his dad says. "Well, you can't possibly think five-thirty is an acceptable curfew."

His dad sighs heavily and Ephram wonders how late he was up, whether he called Colin's parents or anyone else, looking for him. "Midnight," he says. "Unless you call and I know where, and who, and --"

Ephram takes one step towards the stairs, because it's not like his dad will really enforce that. "I was just with Colin," he says, feeling careless and light-headed with fatigue.

"Yeah," Ephram says, and nods again when he realizes it's true. His footsteps on the stairs sound heavy and when he closes his bedroom door behind him he finds his hands are shaking.

Ephram stretches and puts his feet on the floor, yawning. He's glad he has dark curtains. He almost got eight hours' sleep, not counting all the hours he was just lying there thinking of different ways to say, "Well, you see, Dad, the thing is..."

"I don't know. I think I better go down and see if someone told my dad that he's supposed to ground me. What are you doing today?"

"My mom's making me mow the lawn," Colin says, and Ephram presses one palm hard into his thigh to stop himself from laughing.

Ephram showers, turning off the hot water bit by bit until it's very cold and he's very awake. His dad is sitting in the living room with a stack of medical journals and a highlighter and that's how he knows it must be Saturday. "On the sixth day," his dad would say, and his mom would bend down and kiss his forehead, saying the rest along with him, "the doctor shall perform the great art of literature review."

His dad jams the highlighter in the spine of the journal, marking his place. He stacks the journals on the table and finishes the last of a glass of OJ. Ephram doesn't look up, just watches his dad's hands fold and press together and finally come to rest just above his jeans. Finally his dad says, "What do you want to talk about?"

The top journal on the stack has a featured article on "Bioterrorism and the Neurologist," and there's no way he's telling his dad anything he doesn't already know. "I think I'm maybe gay," he says in one breath, and then he looks up.

His dad is smiling a little and nodding. He says, "yeah," gently and like he wants to hear more, like there's a story involved, which, no way is Ephram telling him more than that. That much felt like it was going to kill him and his dad doesn't even look confused.

"Okay," Ephram says, standing up. "I just thought you should, I don't know. Know."

"Okay," his dad says, the most mild-mannered father in the world. He stands up, too, and because Ephram still can't do the sustained eye contact thing, he notices for the first time that his dad is kind of soft through the middle, weight like a spare tire straining his plain shirt where it's tucked into worn blue jeans.

Ephram blinks and watches his dad's legs move around the table, toward him, and then his dad is hugging him hard, like he's forgotten Ephram doesn't have extra padding, too.

"Okay." His dad's hand is on his back, still holding him in the hug. "Because it never seemed like the kids in those dumb TV movies really wanted their folks going on and on about things, but I could --"

His dad laughs and finally lets go. Ephram swipes one hand across his eyes. "You know it would've been okay with your mom, right?" Ephram swallows hard and his dad squeezes his arm so suddenly and tight it hurts. "Right? Your mom wasn't perfect but she loved you more than anything in the world."

"I *know,*" Ephram says, and tugs free. "It's okay, Dad. I'm okay. Notice how I didn't stage some elaborate cry for help thing here and I just sat down and --"

"Staying out all night wasn't a cry for help?" His dad's smiling when he says it.

Ephram shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn't let himself look down. "Can I go over to Colin's for dinner?" He thinks his voice is very even but he can't really hear himself over the rush in his head.

His dad tilts his head slowly to one side, then rights it and stares at Ephram like he's going to say something more. "Why don't you guys eat here?"

"Oh," his dad says, like he's found his keys, like he's remembered Delia's scarf or Ephram's check for a field trip. "Well, tell him I'll give him thirty bucks if he'll do ours, okay?"