No spoilers, assumes several years since they first met.
Disclaimer: not my toys!! (that goes for the wonderful book 'the princess bride' as well)
A/N: the line is "The farm boy had eyes like the sea before a storm, but who cared about eyes?" from the BOOK 'The Princess Bride'. I was watching 'Lassie did a bad bad thing' again and it struck me that, even though everyone refers to his eyes in over romanticized shocking blue terms that they were really kinds light bluey greany grey and then i thought 'like sea foam or the way grey storm clouds reflect off water' and this little plot bunny hit me in between the eyes! so enjoy!
The Sea Before A Storm
He had always wondered what, exactly, that would look like. What was the exact combination of colors, of lightness and dark, what personality and inflections would be present to cause a person's first thought upon looking into someone's eyes to be that they looked like the sea before a storm.
He had been forced to read that book, Gus wouldn't stop telling him just how epic it was until he did, and he had to admit that it was a good book. Great even. He still remembered every word, but then again, he always did. But of all those words, of all the fantastic images conjured up, that was what had really stuck with him. That phrase and the image that, for all his imagination and creativity, he couldn't get right. He just couldn't picture it. Those eyes eluded him.
The first time he saw them he felt himself falling, diving headfirst from the cliffs into the rocky, windswept sea below. He struggled for months, battling the cold, angry waters for dominance, fighting the sea for his life. It was a pointless struggle, he had known, somewhere in his mind, since the day he first fell, that he couldn't escape with his life.
Years passed by in a flash, and all he could really remember, despite the perfect memory, was his constant flailing, his futile attempts to influence the sea. He wanted to make an impression on the awesome force that had shaken him so thoroughly. He had known it had been stupid to even attempt to change the sea but he still wanted with his whole being to be noticed by the waters that surrounded him, even for only a moment.
He had become accustomed to this dance he attempted on a daily basis, had become so comfortable in that routine, that he was well and truly shocked the day he noticed that the sea was no longer cold and angry. It was still a force to be reckoned with, but the tide was no longer trying to throw him onto the rocks, trying to crush and drown him.
That was the day he began to see, to really understand, all the types of storms his sea felt. He came to know the sheer amount of pain, hurt, anger, relief, sadness, excitement, and even love that a single storm could bring about.
His ocean was always there, on the verge of a hurricane, a tsunami, a winter downpour, a refreshing summer thunderstorm. Waves pounded and the tide moved with the force of gods, and the clouds moved in, slow and brooding or swift and threatening.
He had given up fighting this force of nature that was his sea. People always compared him to a force of nature, erratic and unstoppable, but they didn't know what they were talking about. He was nothing, a limp doll, at the mercy of the waves. All he could do was be swept along, marveling at the absolute awesomeness, and wonder why he had ever struggled in the first place. He knew better now, he wouldn't dream of trying to change his ocean now. And he would go wherever the tide took him. He was gladly drowning, he trusted that tide, the love in those waters, to protect and guide him.
He felt the body next to him shift, a hand began rubbing circles across his stomach as those eyes opened and he fell again, deeper still. He would never try to leave.
"Good morning, Shawn."
He smiled and placed a kiss on his love's forehead.
"What was that for?"
"Nothing, Carly, I just love you."
"I love you too, Shawn."
He sighed. Now he understood. And he loved it.