Strangers With Candy: Five Times Seamus Noblet Spent With His Father

[ptahrrific]

Title: Five Times Seamus Noblet Spent With His Father
Series: Strangers With Candy
Pairings: Chuck/Geoffrey, Seamus/OC
Rating: Through PG-13
Warnings: Terrible, terrible parenting; references to hot, ass-thumping sex.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.

Summary: There was a prompt to write about kids, and I wanted to write about Seamus Noblet. Trouble is, he only appears in one brief scene in the movie, and not at all in the TV series (although Chuck shouts at him offscreen in "To Love, Honor, and Pretend"). This is not a lot to go on.

So this is pretty much a Chuck fic, disguised as a Seamus fic.

Five Times Seamus Noblet Spent With His Father


One.
"That is it. You are coming to live with me! You are beyond chores, Jerri. You are a musical genius, and I am the only one who can help you realize my dreams of yours!"
—To Be Young, Gifted, And Blank

There is a scary lady in Seamus' house.

Mommy says he should call her Miss Jerri. Daddy said he could also call her "you stupid junky horror" if he wanted. (Mommy yelled a lot when she found out about that.)

He tried to ask the lady what she thought he should call her. She winked her eyes very fast, one after the other, and barked at him.

This was not very helpful.

Now he just tries to stay out of the scary lady's way. She spends most of her time with Daddy anyway, playing the violin while he yells at her. Seamus is sad that Daddy doesn't spend time with him any more, but he's also kind of happy that Daddy doesn't yell at him much any more either.

Daddy said not to bother them while they were practicing. Sometimes, when Seamus feels really brave, he hides behind the door and listens while the scary lady plays.

The music isn't like any of the regular stuff Seamus listens to, like the songs from Hercules or Veggie Tales. There aren't any words, and it all sounds kind of the same, but different too. And it's really, really, really pretty.

And then one day somebody rings the doorbell in the middle of practice. Daddy goes to see who it is, then runs back in and drags the scary lady to the door, leaving the violin sitting on the table by the window.

Seamus knows a radio or a CD player has lots of gears and electricity inside it to make noise. The violin is just a wooden box with some strings on it. He can't figure out how it makes all those different noises.

Now maybe he can find out.

Very quietly, he tiptoes out into the living room and climbs onto the windowsill.

It turns out there's a big hole in the top of the violin. The strings go over it, but he slips his fingers under them and pokes around as much as he can. He can't feel any gears. He knocks on the wood, and it sounds hollow.

Is it really the string making the noises, all by itself? Cautiously, Seamus plucks at one of them, and is surprised to hear a twang. Okay, that's kind of music-y, but it isn't much like the pretty stuff the scary lady plays. It's way too simple. He pulls at several strings at once, and listens to the way the twangs combine . . .

". . . don't have the time to be consorting with gang members in the first place, and you certainly shouldn't be giving them this address, so unless any of them happen to be gangs of violinists—Seamus! What do you think you're doing?"

Seamus is so startled that he falls off the windowsill, landing under the table. "I'm sorry!" he cries.

Daddy's shouts are louder. "That cheap old used violin is a very sensitive and delicate instrument! No one should be touching it unless they already had a miraculous ability to use it before they ever touched it!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" squeaks Seamus, running from the room as fast as his legs can carry him.

"Jerri needs that violin to follow my dreams!" calls Daddy after him. "I won't have you standing in my way of her!"




Two.

Seamus is sulking, and continues to sulk as Daddy pulls him into the car. He is not happy, and he is determined that nothing Daddy does will change that.

Daddy forgot his birthday.

Mommy had said they would have a special family party, just Daddy and Mommy and Seamus, and they could get out the cake and presents just as soon as Daddy got home. Daddy had promised to be home by six. At half past eight, Mommy got out her present and let Seamus open it. At ten, she made Seamus go to bed.

He kept himself awake by pinching himself, watching the little red numbers on the clock change. They said 11:03 when the front door opened.

A few recognizable phrases broke through, (teacher's conference?!—not my job—just once, Chuck!), but for the most part the shouting was muffled, reduced to a wordless rhythm. It was to this sound that Seamus, exhausted, dropped off to sleep.

Normally he would be sorry he had wanted something that made Mommy and Daddy fight, but not this time. This time it was his birthday. Birthdays are special. Mommy and Daddy and everyone else in class and books and TV shows have all told him so.

In the car, Seamus refuses to buckle himself in; Daddy has to do it for him. He keeps his mouth clamped shut for the whole ride. He doesn't know what Daddy is planning, but he will not cooperate.

Or so he thinks, until he sees the neon lights and primary colors of Pochi's Playplace and realize that they are turning into the parking lot.

He doesn't say anything as Daddy leads him in, but this time it's because his mouth is hanging open. All around him are games, with flashing lights and friendly sounds, and there's a ball pit and a giant playset and smiling fuzzy animals carrying drinks with crazy straws and it's so cool.

Daddy crouches next to him to speak into his ear. "What do you want to do first, kiddo? Play a game? Get something to eat? Your choice. You're the birthday boy, after all."

"G-game," stammers Seamus.

"Good choice." Daddy produces a roll of quarters and places it reverently in Seamus' palm, solid and heavy with the promise of many rounds of Mega Ultra Death Zords X-Treme. "Pick your favorite, and play as much as you like. Daddy will be over by the snack bar."

"Aren't you gonna play with me?"

"What? A big boy like you—how old are you, ten?"

"Seven."

"Seven! Of course! I knew that. Seven is plenty old enough to play on your own. When you run out of quarters, just come over to the snack bar and I'll give you more, until you get bored."

Seamus is briefly disappointed; but it doesn't last. Mega Ultra Death Zords X-Treme is calling.

He spends the next hour and a half blasting evil Anticloids out of the stratosphere, and trying not to feel guilty for being so mad at Daddy, who, after all, does nice things sometimes.




Three.
"I'm Mr. Noblet, and I'll be taking over for Mr. Jellineck until he recovers from his . . . whatever happened to him."
"He got hit by a car."
"I'll have to take your word on that. I wouldn't know. I was home that day, hiding."
—Hit and Run

It's cold outside, cold enough to snow; but it hasn't snowed, which makes Seamus wonder what the point is. If he has to walk around the house in thick socks, long pants, and two sweaters, he wants a snowman out of the deal.

Daddy says it's a waste of money to turn the heat above sixty-five. Seamus asked him once if they could turn it higher, and Daddy shouted that when Seamus got a job and earned some money he could make it as hot as he wanted, but as long as he lived under this roof it would be sixty-five and he would like it, mister!

Mommy had stepped in then, saying that Seamus was still little, he couldn't get a job yet, and besides, little boys get cold easily. Well, Seamus may have been little, but he was old enough to recognize when Mommy and Daddy were getting ready to fight about something; so he quickly declared that he didn't need it warmer anyway.

He wished Daddy would say something like "That's my big strong boy." Daddy, of course, said nothing of the kind. But at least he didn't yell about it any more.

It's cold, is the point.

Which leads to the reason why Seamus decides to go downstairs. It's so cold that the heat is coming on every few minutes, which means the furnace is rumbling like some kind of angry dragon. And dragons, as long as you know they can't move, are fun to play with.

So Seamus trots down to the basement and pulls open the creaky door of the furnace room. The rumbling shuts off just as he reaches for the light . . .

. . . and hears, loud in the sudden silence, a very small sob.

It doesn't occur to Seamus to be afraid. Even if this is a ghost, it's too busy being sad to scare him.

He pulls the rusty chain attached to the naked bulb on the ceiling, and gets the shock of his young life.

It's Daddy.

Daddy, all wrapped up in coat and hat and gloves and boots like he just came in from outside, only Seamus knows he came home an hour ago. Daddy, curled up under the pipes, leaning against the belly of the furnace, knees up against his chest. Daddy, crying.

He looks up. Seamus freezes.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm . . . playing . . ." Somehow Seamus doesn't think Daddy will appreciate the dragon game. "Daddy, are you okay?"

"Fine! Fine!" exclaims Daddy, in a high and squeaky voice. "Everything's A-OK. Why should I care? I'm married."

"To Mommy," agrees Seamus, puzzled.

Daddy looks at him again. "Right! To your mommy. Of course. Run along now, uh . . . run along, okay? Play somewhere else, there's a good boy."

Seamus brightens. This, at least, he understands. "Okay!"

And he runs along, glowing with pride—I'm a good boy! Daddy said so!—but, underneath that, gripped by a new and wholly unfamiliar fear.

He can't imagine what it would take to frighten Daddy. Daddy is already the scariest thing Seamus knows.




Four.
"Don't even joke about that! My daddy will never die! Do you hear me, God?"
—The Goodbye Guy

Seamus' hair is combed, his collar is pressed, and his shoes are so shiny you could use them to shave. He has begun to realize that Grandpa will find something to criticize, no matter how good he looks; but Dad insists that he keep trying.

Officially, this place is a Retirement Living Community. Living is basically all that Grandpa does there, as far as Seamus can tell. He's never seen the man leave his room.

Dad trots them all in with smiles plastered on their faces, and says brightly, "Hi, Pop! How are you doing?"

"You don't have to shout, boy," says Grandpa gruffly. "I'm not deaf."

"Of course not," agrees Dad. His grin might be carved in marble.

"And don't mumble!"

The marble chips. "Sorry, Dad."

"Come here, you," says Grandpa, ignoring Dad and waving Seamus over to his bed. Seamus obediently presents himself for a once-over, keeping his own smile as steady as possible while Grandpa pinches his arm with withered fingers. "Not enough meat on this one. Can't you earn enough to feed the boy properly?"

"He eats fine," cuts in Dad. "Tell him, son."

"I do," agrees Seamus. "I mean, sometimes I get sent to bed without dinner, but that's my fault—"

"Sent to bed without dinner!" repeats Grandpa, aghast. "A growing boy like this! What are you thinking, Charles?"

"Dad," says Dad, through gritted teeth, "when I was his age, you made me skip dinner all the time."

"Well, you were never exactly skinny, were you?" interrupts Grandpa. Dad flinches.

"Herbert, please," cuts in Mom. "How we discipline our son is our own business. Now, if you—"

Ignoring her, Grandpa addresses Dad. "Charles, please tell your wife—what was her name again? . . ."

Dad blinks several times, that grin still frozen, staring like a rabbit in the path of an oncoming semi.

"Claire," says Seamus helpfully. "Mom's name is Claire."

"Ah, that's right." Grandpa smiles at him. It's almost a friendly smile. "You're a good boy, Seamus. A man has to take an interest in the upbringing of his own grandson, after all. Your mother ought to understand that."

Seamus feels the fierce urge to defend Mom; but he cannot contradict Grandpa, not in front of Dad. He keeps his mouth shut. It seems the safest course of action.

When the visit is over, the argument starts before they even reach the car. "Why do you let him push you around like that?" demands Mom.

"Hey!" shouts Dad. "He is my father, and you will respect him!"

"He's a cranky old man who barely has the strength to get out of bed," Mom snaps, "and I, for one, am sick of dressing up for another round of . . ."

Seamus hops into the back seat and tunes the rest of the argument out.




Five.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," says Seamus for the hundredth time as he pulls up in front of the apartment.

"He's got to find out eventually," replies George matter-of-factly. "What, do you want to wait until after the wedding?"

Seamus laughs in spite of himself. It's one of the things he loves best about George: the other man's ability to make him laugh, even when his father is concerned.

He lets them both into the building with his spare key. He has a set of keys to Mom's place, too; Dad occasionally encourages Seamus to sneak in and spy on her, and Seamus might even have been guilted into it by this point if not for George holding him back. It's not as if Mom is a saint either: she tears Dad down whenever she gets the chance. Seamus is this close to having two ceremonies, just to keep his parents from spending any time in the same room.

If he manages to tell Dad about the wedding at all, that is.

He stops three times on the stairs, and again outside Dad's door. "Look, what if we just eloped? That would save everyone a lot of trouble."

"The longer you wait, the harder it'll get," counters George. "C'mon, tough guy, bite the bullet. It probably won't be nearly as bad as you're expecting."

Taking a deep breath, Seamus knocks on the door.

There's a loud crash from within, followed by a high-pitched scream.

Seamus jams the key in the lock and flings the door open without waiting for an invitation. Dad may have somebody over, but that sounded like a bad fall and he isn't getting any younger and Seamus is not going to leave the care of his father to some airheaded floozy who—

He dashes down the hall, reaches the front room—

—then skids to a stop and stumbles backward, flinging an arm over his eyes.

That was definitely his dad, only that wasn't some floozy he was with, that was a man, a man with full lips and long curly hair but still a man, and he was naked, and Dad was naked, and oh God Seamus could have gone his whole life without ever seeing that—

"Seamus? Kiddo?" says Dad's voice hesitantly. "I'm, uh, decent now."

Reluctantly, Seamus uncovers his eyes. Dad has thrown on a pair of slacks, backwards, and a shirt, unbuttoned, and oh God there's semen in his hair and Seamus wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up right now.

"I, um, know this must be very confusing for you," stammers Dad, as a curl-covered head pokes curiously into the hall behind him, "but, you see, sometimes, when two men are very, uh, friendly . . ."

George, appearing at Seamus' side, grins and sticks out a hand. "Mr. Noblet? Nice to meet you. I'm Seamus' boyfriend. Now, isn't it about time you introduced him to yours?"

Comments

[allicapri.livejournal.com]

Wow. Those were great! You really captured how Seamus might have felt with Chuck Noblet for a father. You made me laugh, and feel sad, and feel more sad. I love them all, but #3 and #5 are my favorites. I also agree with Seamus about cold weather--if it's going to be that cold there might as well be some pretty snow to look at, dammit!

I'd love to see the last one continued a bit. It seems like there's a lot of depth that could be explored there--or at least as much as you can get out of a universe like SWC. ;) Think about it. I haven't.

[ptahrrific]

Thanks so much! I cribbed Seamus' characterization from various places, but the frustration about snowless cold weather is my own =)

It's okay that SWC is shallow, because that lets a fanwriter color in the depths however s/he pleases (if you don't mind mangled metaphors). I just might come back to these, so it's great to know you're interested ^_^

[tju-tju-tju-tju.livejournal.com]

Haha, these were so awesome! I really love how you fleshed out Seamus' character; it was a very realistic characterization of him. And your Noblet was just awesome. The ending was absolutely priceless, too. ;) Great job!

[ptahrrific]

I had a lot of fun with the characters =D Thank you!

[mshepley.livejournal.com]

XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD

I feel sorry for Seamus. It's easier when he's just a named entity off the screen. But I like him in this! And I have a feeling I'd like George, too. He sounds like a less-dramatic-and-self-absorbed Geoffrey.

[ptahrrific]

I feel sorry for the kid too -- which is partly why I gave him a happy ending here. Glad you like him, and George too!

[sarcasticsra]

Aww. *hugs ickle!Seamus* That poor kid, growing up with Chuck Noblet as a dad.

And he runs along, glowing with pride—I'm a good boy! Daddy said so!—but, underneath that, gripped by a new and wholly unfamiliar fear.

The first part of that sentence breaks you a little. Chuck fails so horribly as a parent, and Seamus still just wants his approval. (...remind you of anyone?)

I really like how you made him a real character, though; I don't think I've ever read any fic about Seamus before. And the last sentence was awesome.

Nice job!

[ptahrrific]

I definitely cribbed a lot of Seamus' characterization from another certain someone. Of course, I did the same with Chuck, though he's at a different stage of the process ^_~

Glad you like the result - Seamus fic is surprisingly fun!

[rehime.livejournal.com]

Poor little guy! I wish I could say Chuck means well, but...

Then again, I've only seen the movie. Wonderful stuff -- all your writing's amazing but some of the language here is top notch.

[mshepley.livejournal.com]

What? Oh, man, you have been missing out! 30 episodes of awesome.

[ptahrrific]

Chuck is too insecure and frightened to have any energy to spare for meaning well -- in both the movie and the series. (I think he's calmed down a bit by #5 here, but he's had a divorce and ~15 years in which to mellow.)

Madam, you flatter me. Thank you ^_^

[muffin-love77.livejournal.com]

I loved this. Your Chuck is fabulous, and this was a really interesting take on Seamus. Those last few lines were hilarious.

[ptahrrific]

That pretty much covers everything I was going for ^_^ Thanks!

[kahvi.livejournal.com]

This was excellent! Have you written SWC before? I absolutely love your Chuck, I have to say.

"Jerri needs that violin to follow my dreams!" calls Daddy after him. "I won't have you standing in my way of her!"
Fantastic! Perfect capturing of the show's language-twisting style.

oh God there's semen in his hair
Again, perfectly capturing the style of the show. Also, hysterical.

And you made them happy! *sigh* I was not expecting that. Love.

[ptahrrific]

This is my first extended writing in the SWCverse - although there's a character who's awfully similar to Chuck that I write quite a lot ^_~

So glad you like the style - and the happy ending, too!

[seagullsong.livejournal.com]

"although there's a character who's awfully similar to Chuck that I write quite a lot ^_~"

...you're having WAY too much fun with this. :)

[canadian-plant.livejournal.com]

This is great! You grabbed me right at the beginning with "stupid junky horror" and the description of Jerri's unique blinking habits :-) And you nearly broke my heart in half a dozens places - especially throughout the third one. And the fifth one's brilliant, of course.

[ptahrrific]

Jerri's so delightfully weird. And Chuck is a little heartbreaking - but I couldn't resist the happy ending ^_^ Thank you!

[seri-scribble.livejournal.com]

Awesome. :)

I was feeling all "Man... sucks to be Seamus" until "He's got to find out eventually," replies George matter-of-factly. when I started grinning and didn't stop.

[ptahrrific]

It used to suck to be Seamus . . . and then George came along and brought the grins =D Glad you like!

[taleya.livejournal.com]

YAAAY *happy dances and clapped hands*


He can't imagine what it would take to frighten Daddy. Daddy is already the scariest thing Seamus knows.


this line just completely and utterly killed me stone dead.

[ptahrrific]

Aww.

I'm glad it came around to all right at the end ^_^

[stellar-dust.livejournal.com]

GEORGE!!! ♥! I'm so glad he's taking care of Seamus!!

And uh, I love the rest of it, too - you've got Chuck down, and even twistier than Stephen!

[ptahrrific]

Yes indeed! I wondered if anyone else would recognize him, but it looks like you're the first =D

Chuck is fun. I'll have to abuse write him more in the future.

[stellar-dust.livejournal.com]

Well, I *did* have a sneak preview, but I'm sure I would have known him anyway! ;D

[lrn567.livejournal.com]

He can't imagine what it would take to frighten Daddy. Daddy is already the scariest thing Seamus knows.

ahahah.
that line made me laugh.
but very good job!
i loved the ending. :)

[ptahrrific]

Chuck is a little bit intimidating for a kid, I think =)

Thank you!

[winged-mammal.livejournal.com]

Ooo, yay, new SWC fic! *claps excitedly* It's so fun to fill in the holes, innit? And you do it so well. ;)

[ptahrrific]

Thank you! And yes. Yes, it is =D

[aquascape.livejournal.com]

Every time the words "semen" and "hair" are used in the same sentence I think of There's Something About Mary, which I still need to see, before my friends spoil all the good parts for me. Anyhoo, I loved this, especially the ending.

[ptahrrific]

I've never seen that movie either; I've just heard about that particular scene ^_^;

Thanks!

[marvyn84.livejournal.com]

I've just started watching Strangers with Candy and came across these. And I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed reading your stories. They were sad and funny at times. And it was great to hear what Seamus might have sounded like.

[ptahrrific]

Thanks very much, and welcome to the fandom!

[(Anonymous)]

that's so funny, and yet sad, and yet sweet! very well written; you've obviously had hundreds of girlfriends.
Kagaya

[ptahrrific]

A good combination, and a terribly flattering compliment. Thank you!

[bipolypesca.livejournal.com]

I realize I'm a few months late, but this was really excellent. Consistently writing in the present-tense throughout a even a small piece is difficult, and I think you did well.

It's a miracle Seamus grew up to be able to engage in a relationship long enough to even want to go through the stress of a gay marriage considering how insanely emotionally abusive his childhood was. I guess he was a 'big strong boy' after all. :)

Thanks for sharing the story.

[ptahrrific]

You're more timely than you realize - I'm in the middle of working on a story about Seamus' relationship as we speak. (It's rocky, to say the least. But they'll get there.)

Thanks for reading!

[wolfishinsanity.livejournal.com]

NOW I KNOW WHO GEORGE IS.

And eeee! This was great! I love Seamus's innocence as a child and the certain wisdom that floats around him. And the last scene was perfect.

[ptahrrific]

Awesome!

You've got to have a certain Zen to survive having Chuck as a father, I think.

Thanks =)

[myownghost.livejournal.com]

and now i arrive at the SWC part of the program! i love this. much as i am all OTP about chuck and geoffrey, i'm sure you're right that chuck has been a crappy father. your seamus is lovely, as is the last scene, with geoffrey and george. :)

(plus, the thought of chuck with semen in his hair is bizarrely hot!)

[ptahrrific]

Ah, man, I'm OTP about them too, but with full recognition of what thoroughly screwed-up people they are =D

Thank you!

[elincubus.livejournal.com]

The very first sentence almost killed me. Scary lady, indeed!
And the ending was hilarious, too, of course. "There was semen in his hair!" and "When two men are very friendly--" *snort*

But at the same time, the story also made me feel for Seamus and for Chuck... For example when Chuck tried to make up for the missed birthday -- you just have to feel bitter when Seamus is all happy and thankful and you now his father does it only because he feels obliged to.
And the "Daddy is already the scariest thing he knows." -- Seriously that line made me laugh, awww and feel very sad for the boy simulaneously.

Also it's really interesting how the SwC characters are at the same time completely shallow and very deep.

[ptahrrific]

Heh. On the one hand, I have a sense that Chuck feeling an obligation is at least something - it points to a sense of responsibility. On the other, it's not nearly as well-developed a sense as it should be. (Seamus takes what he can get, though. Poor kid.)

"Completely shallow and very deep" is an awesome way to describe it. The characters themselves don't think very hard, but the writers (er, the show's writers, not me) know exactly what they're doing, and it shows.

[elincubus.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I guess it does point to some responsibility, but it also feels like the major part of the obligation stems from the fact that Clair yelled at him until he tried to make it up to Seamus.

Yes, I know what you mean. But it is also rather weird sometimes--the SwC characters and of course "Stephen", too, seem to have such enormous hidden depths that you feel you definitely must be overthinking it. It's comedy after all!
But on the other hand, there is no denying that the characters do make sense on very deep levels.
I've read somewhere else that the writers would probably find it rather silly how in-depth we think about the characters, but well, the characters' complexities can't just be coincidences. They work far to well for that.

[vfdj42.livejournal.com]

*FAVORITES*

[ptahrrific]

:D