Smelling the Roses
Ferris Bueller's Day off fan fic. Written for Yuletide 2006.
Cameron slams his foot into the bumper of the car, and later Ferris will remember that first kick in slow motion and identify it as the moment when everything fell into perfection for him. That first kick explodes out of Cameron with the same violence as the first deluge of rain that comes from one of those creepy-rare spring days when hot and sticky builds into greenish black clouds until you can't breathe and then it suddenly lets loose with hail and tornado warnings.
Cameron's always been filled with suppressed rage. He's been walking around like a tornado warning that never spouts a funnel cloud or even a drop of rain for as long as Ferris can remember.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Cameron's kicks echo through the glass garage.
Ferris' cock hardens with every kick, and as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, he's really glad that Sloan had to leave. For years Ferris has fantasized about something like this, his hand under his blankets, groping inside his underwear, sliding up and down his slippery-hard cock. In his fantasies, Cameron loses it in a bar and just snaps (yeah, Ferris knows neither of them are old enough to be in a bar yet but that's the fun of fantasies) and starts a bar fight. It's a doozy of a bar fight, just like in the old west, with people throwing punches and cracking chairs over the backs of strangers. Then Cameron, bruised and cocky, grabs Ferris by the arm and forces him out into the alley. He pushes Ferris against the dirty alley and rips down his jeans, breathing hard, all sweaty. Ferris can't speak and doesn't want to. He's never realized how Cameron's eyes can smolder. Words are meaningless as Cameron smothers his lips with violent kisses, all the while pushing into him, forcing his ass against the bricks, abrading and scraping.
Cameron kicks the car again and again, screaming guttural obscenities, and Ferris stares in numb fascination, struck silent.
He's finally snapped for real.
Ferris whistles with relief when Cameron finally turns away from the car and wipes his brow with his sleeve, utterly spent.
"Well, it's done--" Cameron starts with a rough laugh, but before either of them can react, the car zooms backward and crashes through the glass wall, and it is all so surreal that the car seems to hover in the air for a moment like in the movies before crashing to the ground far below. Glass continues to rain down in musical tinkles.
"Oh, fuck," Ferris says through his teeth, and he walks to the edge, just a step from a sheer drop, and his shoe crunches glass. Cameron stands next to Ferris, staring at the smoldering crush of metal far below.
"Fuck," Cameron echoes.
A showdown with his father is inevitable now. Before, with the mileage and the dents, Cameron's dad would have hit the roof and oh yes, it would have been ugly, but at least the car could have been repaired. But now...Ferris turns to Cameron, searching for something in his expression. Cameron still stares downward in morbid fascination but he isn't mental like he was earlier in the day when Ferris saved him in the pool.
"What did I do?" Cameron whispers, wiping his brow.
"You killed it," Ferris says. "You killed your dad's car."
He doesn't really know where he stands in all this. Ferris started the chain of events that led to this, after all. Ferris forced him to take the car out. Cameron may never speak to him again. Whatever the case, an era has ended. Ferris doubts Cameron will have another sick day in his life.
Cameron cracks a smile. Then he begins to laugh. "Son of a bitch," he says, and Ferris doesn't know who he is referring to - himself, the car, his dad, Ferris. "Son of a bitch. Can't wait to see his face when he sees it." He is cackling now, and Ferris joins him. "I can't wait."
Ferris loves him. He loves him so much for his raw life and miserable vulnerability and dry humor and how even though he takes constant shit from Ferris, he has it in him (has always had it in him) to make it stop and yet never does. Ferris puts his arm around Cameron and pulls him close while they laugh, and they laugh until they lose balance and stagger into the wall. Ferris falls on his ass, with Cameron landing right next to him, but somehow their limbs get all tangled. Cameron's leg falls between Ferris' legs, bumping against his erection, and Cameron's arm curls firmly around Ferris' waist. For a long time they don't move and it's like Ferris' back alley fantasy. Then Cameron shifts so that his cheek brushes against Ferris'. Cameron stares at Ferris and the laughter is gone now, and his eyes do smolder. Their lips are close, a hairbreadth away. Ferris can't breathe.
"This is another thing I should have done a long time ago," Cameron says and he kisses Ferris with vehemence. Bits of color explode in front of Ferris' eyes and he comes in his jeans even though nobody's touched him and he wants it to go on and on.
Cameron pulls back far too soon and then he jerks away, covering his face.
"Shit," he groans. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean that." He shakes his head and signs of the old, fearful Cameron creeps back over his face.
"Why not?" Ferris asks. He doesn't want Cameron to be sorry. "I didn't push you away."
Cameron glares at Ferris. "I'm not like that. I'm not a homo."
"I'm not either," Ferris laughs. "Who cares? If Sloan were here, she'd probably join right in. I bet you'd like that."
"You're going to marry her."
Ferris waggles his brows. "But I dedicated a song to you...in front of all of Chicago."
Cameron laughs. "You asshole."
Ferris shrugs. "Life is short. If you don't stop to smell the roses...well, you know how that goes. We've got all summer."
"I want to kiss you again," Cameron says, and he clasps Ferris' face in his big hands.
And this time Cameron's kiss is gentle and probing.
Cameron slams his foot into the bumper of the car, and later Ferris will remember that first kick in slow motion and identify it as the moment when everything fell into perfection for him. That first kick explodes out of Cameron with the same violence as the first deluge of rain that comes from one of those creepy-rare spring days when hot and sticky builds into greenish black clouds until you can't breathe and then it suddenly lets loose with hail and tornado warnings.
Cameron's always been filled with suppressed rage. He's been walking around like a tornado warning that never spouts a funnel cloud or even a drop of rain for as long as Ferris can remember.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Cameron's kicks echo through the glass garage.
Ferris' cock hardens with every kick, and as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, he's really glad that Sloan had to leave. For years Ferris has fantasized about something like this, his hand under his blankets, groping inside his underwear, sliding up and down his slippery-hard cock. In his fantasies, Cameron loses it in a bar and just snaps (yeah, Ferris knows neither of them are old enough to be in a bar yet but that's the fun of fantasies) and starts a bar fight. It's a doozy of a bar fight, just like in the old west, with people throwing punches and cracking chairs over the backs of strangers. Then Cameron, bruised and cocky, grabs Ferris by the arm and forces him out into the alley. He pushes Ferris against the dirty alley and rips down his jeans, breathing hard, all sweaty. Ferris can't speak and doesn't want to. He's never realized how Cameron's eyes can smolder. Words are meaningless as Cameron smothers his lips with violent kisses, all the while pushing into him, forcing his ass against the bricks, abrading and scraping.
Cameron kicks the car again and again, screaming guttural obscenities, and Ferris stares in numb fascination, struck silent.
He's finally snapped for real.
Ferris whistles with relief when Cameron finally turns away from the car and wipes his brow with his sleeve, utterly spent.
"Well, it's done--" Cameron starts with a rough laugh, but before either of them can react, the car zooms backward and crashes through the glass wall, and it is all so surreal that the car seems to hover in the air for a moment like in the movies before crashing to the ground far below. Glass continues to rain down in musical tinkles.
"Oh, fuck," Ferris says through his teeth, and he walks to the edge, just a step from a sheer drop, and his shoe crunches glass. Cameron stands next to Ferris, staring at the smoldering crush of metal far below.
"Fuck," Cameron echoes.
A showdown with his father is inevitable now. Before, with the mileage and the dents, Cameron's dad would have hit the roof and oh yes, it would have been ugly, but at least the car could have been repaired. But now...Ferris turns to Cameron, searching for something in his expression. Cameron still stares downward in morbid fascination but he isn't mental like he was earlier in the day when Ferris saved him in the pool.
"What did I do?" Cameron whispers, wiping his brow.
"You killed it," Ferris says. "You killed your dad's car."
He doesn't really know where he stands in all this. Ferris started the chain of events that led to this, after all. Ferris forced him to take the car out. Cameron may never speak to him again. Whatever the case, an era has ended. Ferris doubts Cameron will have another sick day in his life.
Cameron cracks a smile. Then he begins to laugh. "Son of a bitch," he says, and Ferris doesn't know who he is referring to - himself, the car, his dad, Ferris. "Son of a bitch. Can't wait to see his face when he sees it." He is cackling now, and Ferris joins him. "I can't wait."
Ferris loves him. He loves him so much for his raw life and miserable vulnerability and dry humor and how even though he takes constant shit from Ferris, he has it in him (has always had it in him) to make it stop and yet never does. Ferris puts his arm around Cameron and pulls him close while they laugh, and they laugh until they lose balance and stagger into the wall. Ferris falls on his ass, with Cameron landing right next to him, but somehow their limbs get all tangled. Cameron's leg falls between Ferris' legs, bumping against his erection, and Cameron's arm curls firmly around Ferris' waist. For a long time they don't move and it's like Ferris' back alley fantasy. Then Cameron shifts so that his cheek brushes against Ferris'. Cameron stares at Ferris and the laughter is gone now, and his eyes do smolder. Their lips are close, a hairbreadth away. Ferris can't breathe.
"This is another thing I should have done a long time ago," Cameron says and he kisses Ferris with vehemence. Bits of color explode in front of Ferris' eyes and he comes in his jeans even though nobody's touched him and he wants it to go on and on.
Cameron pulls back far too soon and then he jerks away, covering his face.
"Shit," he groans. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean that." He shakes his head and signs of the old, fearful Cameron creeps back over his face.
"Why not?" Ferris asks. He doesn't want Cameron to be sorry. "I didn't push you away."
Cameron glares at Ferris. "I'm not like that. I'm not a homo."
"I'm not either," Ferris laughs. "Who cares? If Sloan were here, she'd probably join right in. I bet you'd like that."
"You're going to marry her."
Ferris waggles his brows. "But I dedicated a song to you...in front of all of Chicago."
Cameron laughs. "You asshole."
Ferris shrugs. "Life is short. If you don't stop to smell the roses...well, you know how that goes. We've got all summer."
"I want to kiss you again," Cameron says, and he clasps Ferris' face in his big hands.
And this time Cameron's kiss is gentle and probing.