Room with a View
By Simarillion

Fandom: RPS
Pairing: Shia Labeouf/Zac Efron
Rating: R (overall)
Beta: draft version (unbetaed)
Word Count: 2553 (total: 4989)
Warning: AU, Voyeurism, M/M

Summary: When Shia gets grounded for a month by his dad, he starts spending his time watching his neighbours. One neighbour is of particular interest to him.

Disclaimer: Some of the persons mentioned are real, but there’s nothing real about the story. The events and the interactions are wholly invented, and I do not claim to know anything about the real persons, or their private lives.
This story is made up and I do not claim to know anything about the characters privat life and/or their sexual preferences. No money is made with the writing of this piece of fiction.

Author’s Note: This is actually a fic inspired by Shia’s Disturbia. When the question arose about the interest in Disturbia slash, I thought to myself, what if Shia hadn’t watched his young female but his young male neighbour? Here is what might have happened, RPS-syle.


Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five



Part Two

Shia doesn’t see what Megan and his neighbour are doing now, if the other boy is freaking out and calling the police, or if the two of them are laughing about him. He just stays sitting on the floor, with his back to the wall, his legs up against his chest and his face buried in his hands.

At times like this he wonders what he did wrong, to be punished in such a cruel way. Sure, Megan and the guy do not know about his huge crush, so they wouldn’t know about his real reason for sitting at the window and watching his neighbour all day long, but just the fact that has been spying on the other is embarrassing enough.

It’s maybe ten to fifteen minutes later, when the doorbell rings downstairs. Shia looks up and wonders about what to do. What if it is the police? What if they want to arrest the creepy kid who’s spying on his neighbours? Or even worse. What if it is the boy from next door?

The doorbell rings a second time, and this time Shia gets up from the floor. He takes a short look outside the window, but there is no-one at the front door next-door anymore. Maybe they went inside?

Before the doorbell rings a third time, he trudges down the stairs. He comes to a stop at the bottom, when he makes out a strange shape through the milky glass of the front door. It’s a single person, so it shouldn’t be the police. The stranger's not wearing anything black either, more like white and blue. It can’t be Megan, because who ever it is has short and light hair, not his ex-friend's dark long locks.

Curious and even more anxious, Shia walks over to the door, and opens it.

He comes face to face with his neighbour, who is wearing blue plaid shorts and a white muscle shirt. The other boy is smiling at him and he’s got a bag of chips and some DVDs in his hands.
“Um, hi!” Shia is everything but smooth, facing his crush.

“Hi! I’m Zac, I live next-door.” Again the bright smile, and Shia wonders if his brain suddenly melted, because he’s unable to say anything smooth as a reply to that.

“Shia.” His name is the only thing he can get over his lips, before he falls silent again.

“Your friend said that you’re grounded for the next three weeks. That’s gotta suck.” Zac seems to try and help him with carrying on an actual conversation, but so far, Shia could just stand there and say nothing at all, with all the things he’s not saying.

“Uh, yeah. Got myself into some trouble, together with some friends.” Finally he comes to his senses and takes a step back, clearing the way into the house. “You want to come in?”

“Awesome.” The other boy slips past him, smelling of chlorine, sun screen and summer air.

Shia closes the door and turns to face his unexpected visitor. “My parents are at work, but they’ll be home soon.”

“Yeah, I know how it is. My parents are away most of the day as well. Dad’s the coach of the university football team, and they got some special summer programme, and my mum works is a real estate agent.”

“Sounds like they’re rather busy.” He stays by the door, not sure how to proceed.

“That they are, but I don’t mind the freedom I have.” Zac stops his inspection of the room and turns back to Shia. “So, what are you in for?”

The joke has them both smile, and Shia forces the butterflies in his stomach to settle. “Me and some friends were involved in a fight.”

“What were you fighting over, or for?”

“Sarah, another friend, broke up with her boyfriend, and he was harassing her. Called her names and threatened to spread some nasty rumours about her, if she didn’t go back together with him again. Josh, Tyrese and I decided that he was not the only one that could bully others.”

The look his explanation gets him, almost makes him blush, and Shia scratches his neck, trying hard not to get all nervous again.

“Sounds to me like you should be celebrated a hero, and not locked up.”

“Yeah, well, the fight got a little bit out of hand, when one of the jerk’s friends attacked Megan. I kind of lost it. In the end the police was called, and both, me and the other boy were taken to the precinct.” This time he does blush, and he clears his throat, which is suddenly all dry. “Needless to say that my dad was not too happy about the incident.”

“Well, from what you told me, the other guy was a jerk, and there’s no excuse for his friend attacking a girl. That’s just not done.” Zac nods his agreement. “So, what are you doing the whole day, holed-up inside the house? Must be kind of boring.”

“And it’s even more boring, if you have no TV, no X-box, nothing to do.” Shia wonders if he should tell him how he kept busy. “Um, I’m mostly watching.”

“Watching what?” The question makes him want to show and explain Zac, what he’s been doing. But the thing is that the other might discover, that he’d been watched as well, and how is he supposed to explain that one?

“Stuff, watching stuff.” He clears his throat. “So, you want to watch one of the movies you brought with?”

“Sure.” Zac gives the DVD cases to him, and Shia sorts through them, making up his mind about which one to watch.

“What about Hot Fuzz?” He’s already seen the zombie movie, but the on-line reviews read that Hot Fuzz is better.

“That’s fine with me.”

That settled, he pops the disc into the player, while Zac makes himself comfortable on the couch. For a second Shia thinks about joining him there, but the danger of him making a fool of himself is simply too big. With his particular luck, he’d get hard halfway through the film, and then he’d have to explain, why he gets turned on by British Comedies. So, the arm chair it is.

He has just sat down, when Zac holds the opened bag of chips out to him, already munching happily on the potato disks.

Shia’s mighty proud of himself that he manages to take some and say his thank you without blushing and stuttering. Hell, he ought to get an Oscar for his impersonation of coolness. When he spills his soda all over his front, he decides that maybe the Academy Award is not really in it for him.

“You’re rather clumsy, huh?” Zac grins amused at him. “I remember, that the other time I saw you, you hit your face.”

“Stepped on a rake,” is his mumbles correction.

“That doesn’t really make it that much better.” The other boy puts the bag of chips on the couch table and leans back against the pillows of the couch. “Does stuff like that happen often to you?”

“More often, than I’m comfortable with. It’s always been like that. Can’t remember a time when I did not step into dog crap, or tripped over stuff, or anything else that has the highest embarrassment factor.” Shia sighs. “Take whatever scenario that you can come up with, and I can surely say, ‘Been there, done that’.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah. You kinda get used to it though.”

They go back to watching the movie, laughing at funny scenes, of which there are many, and eating chips. They are halfway through the film, when Shia’s mum returns from work. She’s surprised at first, when she finds the strange boy in her living room, but once she’s been told that he is the son of the new neighbours, Zac gets invited to dinner.

Shia’s dad arrives the same time dinner is ready. The movie is already over, and the two boys are helping with setting the table. His dad talks kindly with the neighbour kid, but he sends a glare to his own son, the one where he promises great pain. Shia sighs resigned, knowing that if his dad is not happy about something, he’ll find out about it sooner than he likes, and he’ll pay for whatever he did.

After dinner is over, Zac says his goodbyes, thanking for the food, and makes his way back home. The moment the other boy is out the front door, Shia’s dad turns to his own son, the glare only intensifying.

“So, how did Zac come to be here? I though you promised to stay in the house?” The voice is steely, and even though he isn’t guilty of doing anything wrong, Shia has to swallow nervously.

“Uh, Megan visited on the afternoon, and she talked to him, told him to drop by.” He forces himself to meet his dad’s eyes. “I swear, I did not take one step outside the house.”

“Is that so?”

“Jeffrey, leave the boy alone. Zac told me, before you came home, that he dropped by, because he was alone and didn’t want to spend the whole time on his own.” His mum kisses him on the head, hugging Shia lovingly, and tousling his hair.

“Mum.” As much as he loves his mum, he hates it when she treats him like some little kid. “Watch the hair.”

“Shayna, stop coddling him. He’s old enough to be arrested by the police, so don’t protect him from what he does wrong.” His dad had now directed his glare from him to his mum. “You always treat him like he can do no wrong.”

“I don’t treat him like that, but you behave like our son is some felon, who can’t be trusted. He’s a good kid, who did one mistake. There’s no reason for you to suspect him of wrongdoing all the time.” If his dad’s glare is bad, his mum’s glower is much worse.

Shia decides that he doesn’t want to be there when his parents start one of their battles of will, and silently steals himself out of the kitchen, and upstairs to his observation point. Closing the door against the loud voices downstairs, he walks to his chair, and sits down heavily.

He just doesn’t get it, why and how his parents can start fighting about everything. It’s not like they do not get along, far from that. Shia’s parents are so much in love with each other, it’s kind of disgusting sometimes. All those long, sappy looks, and the teasing they do when they are making breakfast in the morning. But if the two clash their heads, it’s the best to stay out of their way. Shia’s learned that the hard way in the past.

There is light on in the house next-door, and Shia scans the windows, to see if he can find Zac somewhere. He doesn’t get lucky though. Tired and exhausted from the stressful day, he leans back into the chair and closes his eyes.

If someone had told him in the morning, that he would get to meet the object of his obsession today, he’d first have told them that they are crazy, and then he’d have freaked out. He isn’t quite sure if the fact that Zac is a nice guy, should be something that he’s glad or sad about. Glad, because it is good to know that he’s more than just a good-looking guy. Sad, because now Shia has even more to dream about, that he’ll never get.

The cell phone in his pocket starts to vibrate, and he takes it out, flipping it open. He holds it to his ear without opening his eyes and checking the caller ID on the display.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Labeouf!” Megan’s happy and teasing voice calls into his ear. “So, did you and Zac finally talk to each other, without you disfiguring your face?”

The comment has him laugh tiredly. “I hate you Megan.”

“Yeah, I know. But I swear to God, I did not tell him about your creepy stalker obsession. I just told him that you’re home alone, and close to going insane.” She laughs at the end of the last sentence. “I’m sure if I had told him about you and your spyglass, your dad would have had to bail you out of jail the second time in the last seven days.”

“Thanks. But I still hate you.”

“I hate you too, Labeouf.” More laughter. “Come on, tell me, did you disfigure your face a second time?”

“There are no rakes in the house.”

“No, but there are walls and corners, and there’s furniture,” Megan teases.

“Naw, no disfiguring.” Shia sits up and opens his eyes. He catches a shadow at the left window on the first floor of the house next-doors.

“Oh.” His friend actually sounds disappointed about that.

“Don’t sound so sad about that. I like my face just the way it is. No reconstruction needed.” He grins cheekily. “I spilled myself with soda though.”

“Shia!” There is a sound at the other end of the line, as if someone’s suffocating, before roaring laughter threatens to turn him deaf.

“Deep breaths, Megs. Take deep breaths. In. Out. In, and then out.” Shia watches the window closely. There’s some more movement, and then he can see Zac. It seems to be the window to the bathroom, because Zac is taking off his clothes, all of them. And then the other disappears from sight again.

The fact that he’s stopped breathing is something he only notices, when his lungs start to burn. He takes a deep breath, the blood rushing in his ears.

The blood is not the only thing he can hear though. “Hello-oh! Is someone there?”

Megan’s loud calling, has him focus back on the conversation he’s having right now.

“Sorry, dropped the phone,” he lies.

“Sure. Well, I have to hang up now anyway. Sarah’ll be by soon, and I have to get ready to go out. Behave yourself, Labeouf!” The teasing order has Shia smiling.

“Will do so, Foxy.”

“Humph, you have much to learn yet, young padawan.”

“Yes, Master.” He laughs lightly. “Have fun tonight!”

“Will do! Bye!”

“Bye!” Shia listens to the call disconnect, and drops the silent phone into his lap. His eyes are glued to the window behind which he saw Zac naked, but when the other gets out of the shower, Shia only gets to see him already wearing boxers and a shirt.

He continues watching the house until late into the night, and once he gets into bed, and his eyes are closed, the picture of Zac taking off his clothes pops up in his head. His whole body starts to ache, as he pictures one of the young couple’s home movie plots, replacing them with Zac and himself.

His hand drifts down, inching closer to his boxers, which grow more tented by the minute, and the images of the two of them together help him to take care of the burning need, which is spreading through him. This time though he can hear the other talking to him as well, the voice breathless and panting.