Sevenish
Title: So You Think You Can Tell (Pt. 7)
Pairing: Casey/OMC, C/Z (past)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Resolutions are made, along with chores turning into discoveries.
“-by the bathroom sink, it’s not there… oh. There you are.”
Casey looked to his mother, who had just returned from the upstairs. “Yeah, went out a while,” Casey said. He put his father’s keyring back on the rack and began shucking his coat off.
“Where IS the damn thing??” his father, sounding like he was on the back porch, yelled.
“Ugh, that stupid phone. He put it down somewhere and can’t find it,” Mrs. Connor said. With a sigh, she asked, “Have you seen it anywhere? He’s panicking that he left it on one of the sale tables and someone stole it.”
“Oh. Yeah,” Casey coolly replied. He brought it out from his pocket. “This, right?”
“Oh, thank god… Frank! Casey’s home, he had it!” she called with a smile.
“He has it? Sweet Jesus, thank…” Mr. Connor stopped dead in his words. All went quiet as Casey went through the house to where he was, standing amongst the piles of boxes. With a blank expression, Casey held it out to him.
“Here,” he said.
“Uh…” Mr. Connor stared at it a moment before lifting his hand slowly to take it. He stared at the sleek black object, as if trying to figure out what it was. “Thanks… Son.”
“Yup.” Casey stayed still and stared at the man, waiting. He wasn’t going to bring it up; he made things obvious enough in his steely-eyed, stern expression. He took some satisfaction in how nervous the man looked, darting his eyes around the entire porch-anywhere but at Casey.
“So, uh-where’d you go? You usually leave a note…” he finally asked.
“Zeke’s.”
“O-Oh? That’s… nice.”
Casey rolled his eyes. “Better him than Jeremy, right?” he said; fine. He wasn’t going to stand on this cold porch all damned night, waiting. It was enough. Mr. Connor groaned then rubbed at his eyes.
“He’d texted me, huh?” he said. He dared look to Casey, who made a silent nod. “So you… know.”
“Yeah. And so you know, he’d texted to say that your little ‘deal’ was off. It didn’t take me finding out, going over and reaming him out for him to do that,” Casey replied. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t head over there to give him shit.”
“It was my idea, not his,” Mr. Connor spat out, now setting his gaze on Casey. He looked apologetic and tired. “I just… went out, found where he was and… ugh, ‘recruited’ him, you could say…”
“He told me. You’d basically made out like if Jeremy was out of the way, there’d be a spot open for him to come on back,” Casey said. He sniffed and looked away, feeling angry. “Which really, Dad-really?”
“I just-“
“Is our heating bill not high enough, guys?”
Mrs. Connor’s interruption made them both look over. She didn’t seem to get what was going on, confirming her lack of involvement. She stood in the opened doorway with a small smile, but her face sobered when she saw the looks on their faces. “Everything… okay?” she tentatively asked.
“He knows, Mer,” Mr. Connor said.
“Knows-oh. Oh.” The woman wore an, ‘oh no, we’re caught!’ expression. It was almost cute and comical enough to make Casey chortle, but he only sighed.
“You should’ve ratted them out, Mom,” he said.
“Well, I… I mean, it’s just that your father, he wanted-“
“How about we go out for a soda or something, Casey? Have a talk, man-to-man,” Mr. Connor said.
Casey looked back to him; he wanted to say no, stomp up the stairs and give him the silent treatment for the next week. His mother earned a bit of that too, but she’d only get a day as her sentence. But he wasn’t a bratty twelve-year old who held grudges for the slightest of offenses. Even if this was more than an ‘oops’, he shrugged. “Fine,” he said.
~*~
Instead of a soda, Casey figured he’d be able to dig into his dad’s wallet a little deeper in going to Darcy’s for a milkshake, the diner’s famous cheese fries and pie. No lectures about having a well-rounded meal were made, making Casey wonder just how far he could take things. But he didn’t want to let his father off-the-hook with a shopping-splurge at the Game Stop as his ‘sorry, Son.’
The man hadn’t been to Darcy’s before, letting him look around and sniff the air with interest. “Nice place. Kinda old-timey,” he said with a nod to the fifties-style décor lining the wall by their booth.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” Casey replied in a distracted voice.
“So…”
Before their father-son meeting could begin, their waitress arrived with a smile. They made her stop quick, with Casey ordering the cheese-fries-for-two, two slices of their delicious strawberry pie and a chocolate milkshake. Mr. Connor said, “Just coffee, for me,” and she went off her chipper way. A moment or two passed with both of them sitting quietly, until Mr. Connor cleared his throat.
“I have a good idea as to how you’re feeling and thinking about… what’s been going on,” He started. He folded his arms over the table and shifted in his seat, emoting his discomfort. “You probably think I’m a real jackass for all of it.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Casey said.
“And I deserve it. It’s okay.”
“Thanks for your permission.”
Mr. Connor let out a groaning sigh and turned his head to look out the window. “I’m sorry, Case. I dunno what I’d been thinking, but…”
“Yeah, you do. You know. As far as I’ve been told, instead of taking me out to talk about things, about who I was dating and how you felt about it, like we are right now…” Casey stopped to breathe and shake his head a little. “This, right now, should’ve happened almost a week ago.”
“Is it too late for that? Talk about… things, like we should’ve?”
Again, Casey felt the urge to be bratty and resistant. But this was his father, someone who’d never stop caring for his son, no matter what. He’d been a stupid, fucking idiot in what he’d done, but it hadn’t come from malice or wanting to hurt Casey. However dumb it’d been, Casey knew enough to say, “No. But I’m not gonna walk outta here with everything totally resolved, either. Let me speak freely here when I say that this was really fucked up, Dad. I’m pissed the hell off about it. But I’m not gonna move out over it.”
“’K, I got it. Got it.” Mr. Connor gnawed at his lower lip, as if he was trying to think of something to say. It gave their waitress a chance to return with their drinks, smiling wide.
“Here we are,” she said, sliding the mug and tall glass full of chocolate-goodness over the table to them. “Cream, Sir?”
“Sure, thanks,” Mr. Connor said. A dish was filled with cream packets and she left again, letting them know that their orders would be up soon.
As Mr. Connor fixed his coffee the way he liked, he finally spoke up, “I just don’t get it. I don’t get what Jeremy’s got that you like. Maybe I haven’t spent a lot of time with him, but in just the few short visits he’s made?” He sniffed, stirred his drink and finally looked to Casey as he sipped. “I’m just being honest when I say that-both your mother and I just feel like he’s insulting our family, over and over again with all his talk about name-brands, labels, that stupid boarding school in… wherever, Germany…”
“Denmark. And yeah, I know,” Casey said. “I’ve rolled my eyes over his… habits, too.”
“Then why date the guy? I… again, honestly? Maybe he thinks that with the money, the status, whatever, that he’s somehow better than us, or anyone not lucky enough to be independently wealthy at nineteen,” Mr. Connor said, wrinkling his nose with frustration. He set his eyes on Casey, who was finally dipping his straw into his shake. “And I… that looks good.”
“Huh?”
“Your shake.”
“Oh. Yeah, they have the best,” Casey said. He leaned forward to take his first straw-full; he was unable to keep himself from humming contentedly. “Yeah, it’s been too long.”
“Lemmee try?” Mr. Connor asked, grabbing the extra straw the waitress had left them. Casey shrugged and pushed it his way. With a small smile, the man took a taste-a long one, making Casey cock an eyebrow.
“If you want one, you can order your own?” he teased.
“Mmm, sorry. That’s one helluva shake,” Mr. Connor said once he was done. Casey smirked and pulled it back to his side.
“So, you were saying?”
Mr. Connor sat back to recollect his thoughts. “Well, yeah, he seems to think he’s better, when really… and I’m not just saying this cos’ you’re my son, you’re leagues above that guy,” he said. “You never bug me and Mom over not going on weekly shopping sprees. You even insist on finding ways to supply tools and stuff for your camera-work, because you want it that way. You could have next-to-nothing and still be happy, when… Jeremy, there, he’d have a heart attack over getting a shirt from Kmart.”
“You’re exaggerating a little there, Dad,” Casey said. He fiddled with his straw and looked at the man. “Yeah, he comes from money and knows it-lets everyone know it, however he talks about it. But… I wouldn’t be dating him if he wasn’t a nice guy.”
“What’s so nice, though?”
“Well… when we first met at the photography club, it’d been my first time there. I was nervous, worried that everyone there would think I was a dorky newbie, even if I know I’m good. Good enough to be there with a bunch of other cam-geeks,” Casey explained. “There was a big snack table but I only took a little, didn’t want to look greedy. Before I could walk away and look for a spot furthest away from everyone, I felt someone tap my shoulder… I turned around and there Jeremy was, holding up this little cake thing, smiling and saying, ‘You’ve gotta be nuts if you didn’t take one of these.’ Turns out that everyone brings a snack of some kind, or stuff like napkins and plates. He brought a big box of petit-fours, all different flavors. Classy stuff, of course.”
“Hah, ‘course,” Mr. Connor said, rolling his eyes but smirking as Casey shrugged.
“But… it was sweet. And instead of him dumping it on my plate and taking off to join a big bunch of friends, he stayed with me there at the tables to talk. He asked me if I’d ever been there; when I said it was my first time, he was almost excited that he got the chance to be my ‘welcoming committee’. He’d been going there for over two years, with a full paid membership.”
“I thought that group was free?” Mr. Connor asked.
“Yeah, for the weekly meetings-anyone can go. But if you pay, you get mailed newsletters with lists of events and stuff, before they go up on the website. You also get a membership card that lets you get into any national park for free, a ticket to the art museum once a month, stuff like that,” Casey said. “He asked if I’d be signing up for that, if I liked what I saw that night. But it’s fifty bucks for a year’s membership, so I said no, didn’t have that kinda cash. He just shrugged and waved me over to his ‘favorite spot’, two rows down from the front. The meeting started soon after that, and instead of feeling nervous-I already felt a part of things.”
“That would’ve happened even without Jeremy there, though.”
“Well yeah, but it was still really nice. And he’s not some rich-kid who collects expensive photography stuff just to have it. He’s as into the art as I am. I don’t run into that all the time… never mind a guy like me, like that… y’know.”
Mr. Connor smirked. “I knew you were gay before YOU did, Casey. I know, okay?”
“Well… okay. A guy who’s gay, like me,” Casey said, lowering his voice a little and smiling back at Mr. Connor a moment. He was about to go on when their food arrived; two small plates were handed off and the large pile of gooey, cheese-covered fries put between them.
“Oh, that looks awesome,” Mr. Connor said, licking his lips.
“They’re the best in town, I promise,” the waitress told him with a wink. The slices of pie went next to the ‘main course’. “Anything else, guys?”
“All set, I think,” Casey said.
“Holler if you need me,” she said before setting off for the kitchen again.
“Damn,” Mr. Connor muttered as he dug his fork into the top of the pile. “I gotta go deep past all this friggin’ cheese…”
“Yeah, they give you your money’s worth,” Casey said, working his portion out from the edge.
For the next few minutes, their discussion was put off to the side in favor of chowing down. When Mr. Connor dove in for seconds, he didn’t bother with utensils; his fingers came back just as cheesy as the fries, making Casey chuckle and join along with the ‘screw manners’ idea. The thick sauce tasted good, getting licked off of his fingers. The plate was almost empty by the time Casey felt like talking again more than eating. “So…” he started, moving onto his pie. He picked at it with his fork as he thought, but Mr. Connor took one last bite from the fries, cleared his throat and shrugged.
“Like I said, I don’t know Jeremy well enough. And maybe that makes what I did unfair. But… you’re my son, and when it comes to whatever guy you bring home, I wanna meet a guy I feel’s worth your time,” Mr. Connor said.
“And Zeke’s ‘that guy’? When you hated him, what, a few weeks ago?” Casey said.
“I just saw the contrast. The stuff I didn’t like about Zeke, I realized… hadn’t mattered. So what if he swears like a sailor in front of parental units, or if he could use a few etiquette classes. He’s got his reasons for who he is, and I should’ve seen that. Back then,” Mr. Connor said. “When I heard you’d snagged a new boyfriend, I’d been thrilled at first. I’d worried that you and Zeke would patch things up and he’d be back, dropping f-bombs at will and… whatever. But then Jeremy showed up, and…”
Casey swallowed and stared at his pie. “You met him once and made up your mind? That’s…”
“I just don’t like him, Casey. I don’t,” Mr. Connor stated firmly. He still looked apologetic, but stern. “If I had my way, then yes-you’d see it my way and find someone else. Not even Zeke if that wouldn’t work, but someone else. But I DON’T have my way. All I can do is sit back and hope Jeremy ends up as nice as you say, or you see that he’s not all-that and bail.”
“Or hire Zeke as a weird relationship-hitman.” Casey gave him a pointed look. When all Mr. Connor did was sigh and shrug, Casey finally took a bite from his pie. It was delicious as always, even with the uncomfortable nature of their issues. “What gets me more, really-like I said, I went to Zeke’s after he texted. I had texted back as you, cos’ like hell I can’t get sneaky right back, at either one of you.”
That made Mr. Connor gnaw nervously at his lip, for sure. Casey didn’t pause for any replies, going on, “So I showed up, and he barely reacted. He was surprised, but more pissy and annoyed over it all. It wasn’t just his getting caught and wanting to avoid things. He’d gotten hurt in doing what he’d done.”
“Hurt? Cos’… you were mad at him about it? Cos’ like I said, it’d been my idea…”
“No, that ain’t it. Dad…” Casey paused to sigh and stare at his barely-touched dessert. “…He told me a lot, more than he’d ever done when we’d been together. I let him, cos’ he needed it. He needed it cos’… I hadn’t let him talk or have any real say in how shit went. He made me realize that, and I felt bad about it. But-I’m sure you know already, he does miss me. I dunno if it’s enough that he’d really, really want me back, but…”
“He does. He said as much.”
Even if Casey knew, deep down that Zeke did, he hadn’t wanted to have it confirmed. He sat back, hissing out a frustrated breath. “So what you decided to friggin’ do sucks even MORE, Dad,” he said. “Like, let’s say you guys kept this stupid secret ‘alliance’ you had from me, I never, ever found out. Who said me and Zeke would hook back up? And if we somehow had, that’s like… he’d have to keep that secret, while being with me at the same time. It’s complicated enough, a guy being with another guy, who needs that kind of stress?”
Mr. Connor joined Casey in having a staring contest with his pie. “Saying ‘I hadn’t thought things through’ is stupid, cos’ having done it altogether’s enough. But it’s still true,” he said.
“He’s hurt enough over everything that went down between us, our breaking-up, everything. I haven’t known how deep it went, ‘til tonight-so you going to him, as if your ‘plan’ would get us back together, even just a little…” Casey paused to take a bite, more out of duty than feeling hungry for it. “I feel shitty all-around. If I’d known how bad he’d felt, I just…”
“I’m sorry, Casey. Really. For hurting you and Zeke. I hadn’t meant for that to happen… though how I thought things would be ‘just fine’…”
“Do you just not trust me, Dad?”
The question made Mr. Connor snap his eyes back up to Casey. “No, I do, it’s-“ he stopped dead, furrowing his brow a few moments before looking away again. “I trust you, but I don’t know if I’d ever trust any guy who comes around. I just never want you to do something you’d regret later. Being with someone, or being in love… that stuff can make you blind and stupid.”
“Maybe. But if I fuck up, I fuck up. Your job ain’t to play interference. You always said when I was growing-up, how if I made mistakes to do my best to learn from them. I can’t do that if you jump in like you’re my stuntman, keeping me safe and… shit,” Casey said.
It went quiet for a moment, allowing Casey to go ahead and finish his dessert. Even with his sour mood, he knew better than to have something as delicious as this to end up in a trashcan. When he finished, he looked up to find his father giving him a small smile. “What?”
“Nothing. Just wondering how you ended up so damned smart, when apparently, I’m a total idiot,” Mr. Connor replied.
“God, you’re not an idiot, Dad…”
“About this, I am. I guess I gotta sit back and learn how to deal with it by watching you. I’m smiling, yeah, but… I’m not kidding,” Mr. Connor said. “It’s a comfort to me as a dad, getting to see my son’s character like this.”
Casey blinked furiously, shrugged and sat back. “Well, there’s a reason for that…” He couldn’t help a pause now, while trying hard not to smile. As he saw his father’s face go pink with pride, Casey finished with, “…Mom.”
“Oh, for…” Mr. Connor rolled his eyes but betrayed himself with a hearty round of chuckles. Casey chuckled with him.
“Kidding. Both of you helped, ‘k? You just suck right now, not forever.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mr. Connor drawled. He took the last bite of his dessert and looked past Casey to the front. “This is a cool place. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“’Welcome,” Casey said.
“How about… we make this a regular thing? A Wednesday night, Dad-and-Son hangout at the diner? Might be good, keeping each other in check, instead of hiring exes as private investigators,” Mr. Connor said.
“Eh… I’ll think about it. You’re kinda on ‘probation’ with me for a bit,” Casey replied.
“After those fries and the pie?”
“Yup.”
Mr. Connor smirked, Casey joining him. “You’re already saying ‘yes’, I know it.”
“We’ll see…” Casey breathed out the words, just as the waitress arrived with their check. Mr. Connor took it, thanked her for the food then got up to go to the front register. He gave Casey’s shoulder a squeeze on the way. The boy smiled, dug out his wallet and pulled out a five and some change to cover the tip.
“So, home-again, home-again… hey,” Mr. Connor said upon his return; he pointed at the cash Casey had left. “What’s that for?”
“Um, a tip? It’s an American custom to-“
“Oh, please, put it back in your wallet…” Mr. Connor waved the five and ones he held, but Casey shook his head.
“You wanna make this a regular thing? Pay the tab all you want; tip’s MY end of the deal,” he said.
Mr. Connor raised his eyebrows. “If that’s how you want it… okay. BUT… if it’s all you’ve got on you, I’ll know and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Whatever,” Casey said. With a grin, he shuffled out from the booth, got his coat and hat on and walked alongside his dad on their way back to the car. “So… when we get back, want me to not go in with you at first, and you rush in all panicking, telling her I jumped out at a red to run away and never come back?”
“Oh GOD, Casey, she’d freak! No, no, no-o-o…”
“Hey, she had a role in this mess, she deserves something…?”
“No, young man.” Mr. Connor’s grin grew as he got the car open and they took their seats. As he switched the engine on, he said, “Don’t be so hasty. Spend a little time, give it some thought. That’s how the best pranks are thought up.”
The man had a point. Grinning devilishly, Casey said, “I’ll have to get some lessons from the master on this ‘craft’, huh?”
“Oh, the tricks I’ve pulled on that poor woman…” Mr. Connor said, chortling as he got them out on the road for home.
~*~
There were still things to work on and improve, but Casey’s mood the next morning was brighter than usual. It’d taken some trudging through uncomfortable, even sad subjects between him, Zeke and his father, but the stress from confronting those issues had been worth it, now. ‘Now’ consisted of walking into school and seeing Zeke at his locker, finding the usual scene.
“Just-DO what I WANT y-you to, damn i-it…” the young man all but growled through gritted teeth as he attempted to shove his coat past the messy contents of his locker. “The fuck is that HOOK, god…”
“Hey, Zeke,” Casey greeted him with a cocked eyebrow and smirk. Zeke paused in his struggle to look back.
“You’re small. See if you can cram yourself in this thing, wedge everything halfway in,” Zeke said. He even reached to Casey’s arm, which the boy drew back fast, chuckling.
“How about I help you clean it out? That’s a bit more practical,” Casey said.
“I don’t wanna know what I’d find, doing that.”
“Might be fun. Find shit you haven’t seen in like, five years?” Casey said. When all Zeke did was shrug, Casey looked at his watch; they had more than enough time before the homeroom warning-bell rang. “C’mon, I’ll take the floor, you get the top.”
Zeke smirked and stepped off to the side a little, letting Casey kneel on the hallway floor to start digging around. Casey had to chuckle already at his first find. “Thought you said you never read the school rag?” he said, raising the wrinkled, crumpled edition of the school paper he’d found crammed against the wall. Zeke shrugged.
“I only snagged it cos’ it’s the one that has the little article, there. The one… ow…” Zeke drew his hand back quick and sucked his thumb. “The fuck was that…”
Casey managed to open the almost-unreadable paper; he smiled, seeing the picture of himself on page three, with the announcement, ‘HHH’s Own Casey ‘Tripod’ Connor Reveals the Secrets of Taking The ‘Perfect Picture’! “Aw. I’d somehow ended up without a copy of this one, my mom was pissed,” he said.
“Snag it,” Zeke said.
“You sure?”
Huffing and puffing from his battle with a stubborn, torn-up shirt that seemed cemented to the inside, Zeke looked down and rolled his eyes. “What about the thing’s current state tells you I can’t live without it?” he said with a smirk.
“Gee, thanks…” Casey said, sticking his tongue out at him before setting it aside to continue helping.
Most people didn’t tire themselves out or start sweating when it came to locker cleaning. But ‘most people’ didn’t turn their lockers into an insufferable, begotten mess like Zeke Tyler did. At one point, Zeke was trying to work an extension cord out from the top, while Casey found a second at the bottom. It took them a while to figure out why neither of them could dislodge it, as there was just one cord, with two boys holding either end and bitching about how it wouldn’t come free.
“Why the fuck do you have that in here, anyway?” Casey said as he paused to catch his breath.
“Hey man, when you gotta charge your phone and all outlets are taken? I’ve been a superhero, dragging this thing out for not just me but five others to get wired,” Zeke explained.
“What’d you charge ‘em to use it, five bucks apiece?”
“Pfft, no. That’s ridiculous.” Zeke got the cord free and began wrapping it around his arm to get it together. Before Casey turned away, he smirked and said, “Just a buck.”
“Knew it,” Casey said, chortling. He sat up straight to return to his ‘charity work’, when the bell rang. He whipped his head back to Zeke. “Shit, been longer than I thought.”
“Barely put a dent in this thing. Ain’t gonna get it sparkling in two minutes. Fuck it.”
They did their best to stuff the things Zeke put in the ‘keep’ pile back in, thankfully small enough then worked the door closed. It took both of them, with Zeke tucking anything trying to escape through the crack Casey left for him, until Zeke said, “Now!” then jumped back to let Casey shut it in a slap and clack! Taking a deep breath, Zeke crossed his arms and muttered, “Well, that was a futile effort.”
“Well, you never eat lunch. We might be able to grab a few trash bags through the day, come back and finish,” Casey said.
“Is this a weird idea of ‘fun’ to you, or something?” Zeke asked, wearing a quirky grin.
“No. I just don’t want you getting expelled for accidentally exposing the whole school to whatever deadly diseases are growing in there. I have a great immune system, so I’ll be fine.”
“Always so hilarious, Casey. Ugh, fine… see you back here at quarter-of,” Zeke said. They strolled down the hall, with Zeke’s homeroom coming first. Before he went in, he called, “If you see any hazmat suits kicking around, snag ‘em!”
Casey laughed. “You got it!” he called back before the young man’s grin disappeared past Ms. Herman’s door.
~*~
“I saw an axe in the janitor’s closet, when one of the guys was coming out. But that’s all I would’ve needed on my record.”
Casey laughed as he returned to the locker project, finding Zeke already there. He lifted the two trash bags he’d stolen from trashcans in the boy’s room on the second floor, earning a thumb’s up from Zeke. “Don’t ask where I got ‘em. I might be sent to prison,” Casey said.
“Yeah, grand larceny was my first thought… you get the top this time. Didn’t even think of the horror-show the bottom could hold. If one of us is to die, it should be me for creating this fucking disaster,” Zeke told him.
“Fine by me,” Casey said before rubbing his hands together and stepping next to Zeke’s crouched form. “So, any way my helping you lets me… invoke the ‘finders, keepers’ rule?”
“Yeah, if you’re an immature eight-year old. Go nuts.”
Casey snorted. “Kidding,” he said as he dug around in the small cubby-sized space at the top. He found it the least cluttered that he’d seen so far, besides a haphazardly-folded and crushed stack of various magazines. “Keep?” he asked once wrenching them out to show Zeke.
“Trash ‘em. Oh-wait-no…” Zeke said in a rush and raised his hand to them. “Newsweek, I could give a damn, but I’ve been looking for this one copy of Rolling Stone for ages now…”
As Zeke preoccupied himself with magazine-searching, Casey got on tiptoe to get a look to the back of the locker. He paused when he saw a non-descript paper bag, the top folded into a roll and holding something. Something that would scar Casey’s psyche, if he dared take it out and peek into. “Uh, looks like a lunchbag crammed up in here… didn’t stumble on any of those hazmat suits you were talking about before… did you?”
“I’ve never, not once, brought a bagged lunch to school. Whatever it is, it shouldn’t kill you,” Zeke said in a distracted voice before saying, “THERE it is, wow…”
Casey smiled down at Zeke, who was now leafing through the long-lost magazine, now found. “See? Already worth the trouble,” he said.
“You’re too good to me, boy.”
Casey chuckled, looked back to the bag then, with some caution, reached to it and brought it out. Turning it around to look at the other side, he frowned. “’Park Street Jeweler’s’?” he said aloud. “What’s-“
Casey almost jumped when suddenly, the bag was snatched from his hands by Zeke. He turned his deepening frown down at him; Zeke had left the magazine behind to now stuff the thing away in his duffel bag. He said nothing, making Casey curious enough to smirk. “What was it?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Su-u-ure it wasn’t. C’mon, who’s getting a surprise proposal here at Herrington High? I won’t tell.”
Zeke went still and looked-angry? Not at Casey, his gaze set dead ahead at the locker next to his. After a moment or two, he sighed, reached back into his bag and drew it out. “Late birthday present,” he said in a gruff mutter while thrusting it up at Casey.
“Huh? Late is right, my birthday’s January eigh…” He went to say, but he stopped cold. Everything seemed to stop-the whole world had screeched to a halt as Casey realized, ‘You were so pissed at yourself, making yourself single three days before your stupid birthday…’
“May as well take it. It’s non-refundable, I know nobody I wanna give it to and it ain’t mine to keep,” Zeke said. His expression was blank, almost tired.
“You… sure?”
With a groan, Zeke stood, stepped over to Casey’s messenger bag and stuffed the-whatever it was-inside. “Open it later, when you’re home,” he said. Casey nodded dumbly; without another word, Zeke returned to his kneeling on the floor and digging around, Casey noting that he worked with greater purpose and force, now.
~*~
By the time Casey’s last class was over, he swore that the inside of his bag was going to burst into flames with the anxiety he felt toward its contents alone. He’d barely paid attention to anything any teacher had said, especially during chemistry; the pounding of his pulse as Zeke took notes right next to them at their shared lab table drowned out all sound.
It couldn’t have been anything all that life-changing. Zeke had originally handed it off to him, right there in the hall, expecting Casey to open it without any ceremony or significance. Yet at the last moment, he’d changed his mind. This was something Casey needed to reveal behind his bedroom door, with no one else around.
‘Can’t be a ring,’ he thought, even shaking his head briskly as he rushed home from the bus stop. He had the gait of a soldier, his strides wide and at triple-time. It was Thursday-Mom had her usual shift at the hairdresser’s, his father on his nine-to-five, five days a week job, slaving away at the factory. Casey would still close his bedroom door behind him, but he wouldn’t have to explain any odd, noticeable mood to either parent when he came out. ‘Could be nothing, really, chill the hell out,’ he thought as he reached his home, took the five porch steps in one strong jump and got inside.
For all he knew, the entire floor of the main entrance was covered in his winter clothing; he hadn’t bothered to check if his coat had fallen from the coatrack in his careless tossing it in the general direction. The only thing his mind was on was the belated birthday gift. Given how these things usually went, he figured he’d end up finding something from Spencer’s, whatever gag-gift Zeke had seen fit to celebrate Casey’s day with. It’d be just like him, dressing it all up in such a fancy, jaw-dropping way… only to laugh and yell, “Psyche!” when Casey opened a ring box and got squirted in the face by a fake flower…
Open it later, when you’re home. Zeke’s words rang through Casey’s head, mixing it with the same strong pulsing, fuzzy blood-rush from before, echoing in his ears. Casey got into his room, shut the door and put his messenger bag gingerly on the bed. ‘You’re home, open it,’ he thought, but felt an odd sense of fear over it. It took him more than a minute to unclasp the bag’s flap, reach in and
BRR-rr-ring! the phone in the hallway suddenly screamed, making Casey hop a little in his seat. He growled as he considered not answering it, but… ‘Mom got pissed the LAST time you were home but didn’t pick up,’ he thought. Casting a woeful look to the small bit of brown paper he’d exposed, he got up, strode back out and grabbed the cordless phone from the wall. “Hello??”
“Whoa!”
Casey blinked, hearing the familiar chuckling on the other end. “Oh. Hi, Jeremy,” he said.
“Hey yourself. You okay? Kinda deafened me, there,” he said.
“Yeah, uh… sorry. Had to… run to pick up,” Casey lied. He ventured back into his room and sat on the bed, but didn’t move to open Zeke’s gift-not with the phone to his ear, with Jeremy now chattering away.
“Well, ANY-way… I was calling to see what you were up to tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow? I… dunno. Why?”
“A friend of mine invited me and a ‘guest’ of my choice to this little soiree he’s having. You’ll never guess who I want that guest to be,” Jeremy said.
“Um, I… what exactly IS that?”
“What’s what?”
Casey’s eyes felt like they were burning in his sockets with the stare he had on the small swatch of brown, peeking out from his bag. “Soiree,” Casey dryly answered.
“What? Oh, honey… that’s French for ‘one of the most awesome parties you’ll ever go to’,” Jeremy said, chuckling again. “If you think MY place is big, wait ‘til you see where Thomas shacks up. Bring your suit-indoor pool and everything.”
Casey couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the name ‘Thomas’ pronounced ’Tho-MAHS’… perhaps it’d never been said like that in Casey’s presence. “Yeah, I guess. Um, what time?”
“How about I pick you up from school?”
“Um-it’s a half-day for me, tomorrow, actually,” Casey said. “Inservice day.”
“Oh. Well, then at your place? Six o’clock? And hey, good deal… you’ll have plenty of time to get yourself beautiful.”
You’re beautiful already, the fuck’s he on about? Casey heard in his head, his thoughts being spoken in a voice that sounded an awfully lot like Zeke’s. He sniffed in hard and said, “Six sounds cool, yeah.”
“Cool. You… sound a bit distracted, everything really okay?” Jeremy asked.
“Yeah, yeah, just… downed a coffee to get through today’s homework haul,” he lied again, doing his best to add a light-hearted chuckle. “Which means that I should get off the phone.”
“Aw. Well, yeah, you’re right. Failing a test might ground you from going out tomorrow,” Jeremy said.
“Hah, not a fail sits on my record, promise. Anyway… yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“A’right! Maybe I’ll call during lunch, since you’re a lucky jerk who gets out early…” Jeremy said. “Tomorrow then. Bye!”
“Bye,” Casey said then hung up. The phone was dropped down to the other side of the bed and he straightened. ‘Maybe you should blink, I dunno?’ he thought, realizing that the source of the burning most likely belonged to his keeping his eyes wide open for almost a minute straight. After a few snaps of his eyelids and giving them a small rub, he sighed, shuffled closer to his bag and finally, finally, drew out the mysterious lost-but-found gift. The top was unrolled slowly with shaking fingers then opened wide.
Peeking inside, Casey swallowed not just in seeing the plain, non-descript square box, but the small envelope it was taped to. He finally dared to reach in and take it all out. Sure enough, ‘Casey’ was written on the card in Zeke’s handwriting, nothing more. In his turning the gift around to find it, he felt the weight of whatever was inside-it was so light, Casey wondered if it was empty.
Following the usual tradition of gift-opening, the card was pulled free from its taped position on the box and opened first. Casey grabbed at the card inside, tugged it free then immediately fell into a giggle-fit...
1… 2… 3… 4… 5! was printed from the top down, the number five being the largest and placed underneath a cartoon boy. The boy’s arms were held up in triumph, celebrating his fifth year as a human being all while wearing a superhero’s cape. His bright smile was marred by one missing tooth in front. Casey’s smile was one of amusement AND relief… just like Zeke, sending this silliness along. Even if it’d gotten to Casey more than a month after his day. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he thought as he flipped it open to read the inside.
Below the simple rhyme made for a Kindergartener was Zeke’s own message: just becuz you’re 18 doesn’t mean you can’t be 5 when you wanna.
When you got the choice, go with 5. Maybe even 4. Stay young and beautiful forever, Case.
Love,
Zeke
Wherever the hot tension climbing up from his arms to his neck and straight to his face had come from, Casey couldn’t say. It couldn’t be the words the then-boyfriend Zeke had jotted down; he’d said the same kind of things before. Perhaps not all at once, as he’d put it down in here, but…
‘When had he gotten this, written this?’ It had to have been somewhere near the end, and definitely during Casey’s new habit of name-calling the young man. The heat inside of him started growing, making him feel sick. How had Zeke had the voice in him to say-or really, write-out, something even MORE personal-these gorgeous words? Casey hadn’t given him any inspiration for them. This bag should have been filled with what a dog-walker charge left on lawns and sidewalks, thrown at Casey’s front door, not a sweet card with whatever gift accompanied it. Casey looked to the box and tensed all over, needing to fight the tension in his arms down to reach over, pick it up and undo the tape holding it closed. Opening the lid and looking at the contents, his lips trembled open.
The gold four-leaf clover sitting on the cotton square shimmered in the sunlight coming from Casey’s window, creating the illusion of its holding mystical, magical properties. Something like this probably grew in the fantasy land of leprechauns, the sign that a pot of gold was near. ‘Is it… a pin?’ Casey thought as he gently flipped it over. No clasp, pin or ring for attachment was there. Just the small, life-sized plant made into a golden trinket for Casey to have…
‘Made… into…’ Casey thought with growing amazement. In picking the item up, the square came free and landed softly on his lap. Casey’s brow twitched as a small square of folded paper, hidden under the cotton, was revealed. He picked it up and carefully unfolded it, spread it out over his thigh and again, Zeke’s handwriting made some explanation-or really, what had started coming to mind already:
You insisted I take it, that you’d felt lucky enough. I told you I’d keep it for a while, see if it works then give it back to its rightful owner when I was done. I added a few ‘extras’ to it though, give it MORE luck-potential. Who knows, right?
Anyway, I feel lucky, too. Really fuckin’ lucky.
-Z
‘He’d brought it to… Park Street…’ Casey thought with wild wonder, enough to make him dizzy. Somewhere past the expertly-crafted gold covering rested the tiny little surprise Casey had found during one of their trips out to the park for his usual film-filling hobby. His eye for detail had spotted it from a standing position, glasses needed or not. Zeke, the utter spaz that he’d get to being at times, never would have found it. Therefore, he needed it more.
It’d been such a sweet but quick exchange, one Casey hadn’t thought back on, until now. Now-he could almost feel the hot summer sun that had beaten down on them, so bright that the green leaves had seemed to glow against the pale skin of his palm as he’d handed it over. “Put it somewhere safe,” he’d told Zeke, who’d smiled and said,
“You’re the one who found it, though.”
“So I decide where it ends up,” Casey had replied before winking and turning back to his camera-work. Five seconds worth of interaction that held so much warmth and feeling that Casey was a part of something in the world-something worth being around for, and with.
Casey stared at the little, glowing gift until his sight went blurry from the many tears piling up. They spilled when he let out a gut-shuddering breath and sob; Casey closed the box, set the tape back to keep the little leaf safe, put it aside and pressed both sets of fingers up against his eyes. ‘I wanna go to him,’ he thought without reserve as he cried quietly to himself, trying to untangle every knot that had formed in him in the last fifteen minutes… there were a few he felt had been there much longer than that, however. He didn’t know where to start.
~*~
Pairing: Casey/OMC, C/Z (past)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Resolutions are made, along with chores turning into discoveries.
“-by the bathroom sink, it’s not there… oh. There you are.”
Casey looked to his mother, who had just returned from the upstairs. “Yeah, went out a while,” Casey said. He put his father’s keyring back on the rack and began shucking his coat off.
“Where IS the damn thing??” his father, sounding like he was on the back porch, yelled.
“Ugh, that stupid phone. He put it down somewhere and can’t find it,” Mrs. Connor said. With a sigh, she asked, “Have you seen it anywhere? He’s panicking that he left it on one of the sale tables and someone stole it.”
“Oh. Yeah,” Casey coolly replied. He brought it out from his pocket. “This, right?”
“Oh, thank god… Frank! Casey’s home, he had it!” she called with a smile.
“He has it? Sweet Jesus, thank…” Mr. Connor stopped dead in his words. All went quiet as Casey went through the house to where he was, standing amongst the piles of boxes. With a blank expression, Casey held it out to him.
“Here,” he said.
“Uh…” Mr. Connor stared at it a moment before lifting his hand slowly to take it. He stared at the sleek black object, as if trying to figure out what it was. “Thanks… Son.”
“Yup.” Casey stayed still and stared at the man, waiting. He wasn’t going to bring it up; he made things obvious enough in his steely-eyed, stern expression. He took some satisfaction in how nervous the man looked, darting his eyes around the entire porch-anywhere but at Casey.
“So, uh-where’d you go? You usually leave a note…” he finally asked.
“Zeke’s.”
“O-Oh? That’s… nice.”
Casey rolled his eyes. “Better him than Jeremy, right?” he said; fine. He wasn’t going to stand on this cold porch all damned night, waiting. It was enough. Mr. Connor groaned then rubbed at his eyes.
“He’d texted me, huh?” he said. He dared look to Casey, who made a silent nod. “So you… know.”
“Yeah. And so you know, he’d texted to say that your little ‘deal’ was off. It didn’t take me finding out, going over and reaming him out for him to do that,” Casey replied. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t head over there to give him shit.”
“It was my idea, not his,” Mr. Connor spat out, now setting his gaze on Casey. He looked apologetic and tired. “I just… went out, found where he was and… ugh, ‘recruited’ him, you could say…”
“He told me. You’d basically made out like if Jeremy was out of the way, there’d be a spot open for him to come on back,” Casey said. He sniffed and looked away, feeling angry. “Which really, Dad-really?”
“I just-“
“Is our heating bill not high enough, guys?”
Mrs. Connor’s interruption made them both look over. She didn’t seem to get what was going on, confirming her lack of involvement. She stood in the opened doorway with a small smile, but her face sobered when she saw the looks on their faces. “Everything… okay?” she tentatively asked.
“He knows, Mer,” Mr. Connor said.
“Knows-oh. Oh.” The woman wore an, ‘oh no, we’re caught!’ expression. It was almost cute and comical enough to make Casey chortle, but he only sighed.
“You should’ve ratted them out, Mom,” he said.
“Well, I… I mean, it’s just that your father, he wanted-“
“How about we go out for a soda or something, Casey? Have a talk, man-to-man,” Mr. Connor said.
Casey looked back to him; he wanted to say no, stomp up the stairs and give him the silent treatment for the next week. His mother earned a bit of that too, but she’d only get a day as her sentence. But he wasn’t a bratty twelve-year old who held grudges for the slightest of offenses. Even if this was more than an ‘oops’, he shrugged. “Fine,” he said.
~*~
Instead of a soda, Casey figured he’d be able to dig into his dad’s wallet a little deeper in going to Darcy’s for a milkshake, the diner’s famous cheese fries and pie. No lectures about having a well-rounded meal were made, making Casey wonder just how far he could take things. But he didn’t want to let his father off-the-hook with a shopping-splurge at the Game Stop as his ‘sorry, Son.’
The man hadn’t been to Darcy’s before, letting him look around and sniff the air with interest. “Nice place. Kinda old-timey,” he said with a nod to the fifties-style décor lining the wall by their booth.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” Casey replied in a distracted voice.
“So…”
Before their father-son meeting could begin, their waitress arrived with a smile. They made her stop quick, with Casey ordering the cheese-fries-for-two, two slices of their delicious strawberry pie and a chocolate milkshake. Mr. Connor said, “Just coffee, for me,” and she went off her chipper way. A moment or two passed with both of them sitting quietly, until Mr. Connor cleared his throat.
“I have a good idea as to how you’re feeling and thinking about… what’s been going on,” He started. He folded his arms over the table and shifted in his seat, emoting his discomfort. “You probably think I’m a real jackass for all of it.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Casey said.
“And I deserve it. It’s okay.”
“Thanks for your permission.”
Mr. Connor let out a groaning sigh and turned his head to look out the window. “I’m sorry, Case. I dunno what I’d been thinking, but…”
“Yeah, you do. You know. As far as I’ve been told, instead of taking me out to talk about things, about who I was dating and how you felt about it, like we are right now…” Casey stopped to breathe and shake his head a little. “This, right now, should’ve happened almost a week ago.”
“Is it too late for that? Talk about… things, like we should’ve?”
Again, Casey felt the urge to be bratty and resistant. But this was his father, someone who’d never stop caring for his son, no matter what. He’d been a stupid, fucking idiot in what he’d done, but it hadn’t come from malice or wanting to hurt Casey. However dumb it’d been, Casey knew enough to say, “No. But I’m not gonna walk outta here with everything totally resolved, either. Let me speak freely here when I say that this was really fucked up, Dad. I’m pissed the hell off about it. But I’m not gonna move out over it.”
“’K, I got it. Got it.” Mr. Connor gnawed at his lower lip, as if he was trying to think of something to say. It gave their waitress a chance to return with their drinks, smiling wide.
“Here we are,” she said, sliding the mug and tall glass full of chocolate-goodness over the table to them. “Cream, Sir?”
“Sure, thanks,” Mr. Connor said. A dish was filled with cream packets and she left again, letting them know that their orders would be up soon.
As Mr. Connor fixed his coffee the way he liked, he finally spoke up, “I just don’t get it. I don’t get what Jeremy’s got that you like. Maybe I haven’t spent a lot of time with him, but in just the few short visits he’s made?” He sniffed, stirred his drink and finally looked to Casey as he sipped. “I’m just being honest when I say that-both your mother and I just feel like he’s insulting our family, over and over again with all his talk about name-brands, labels, that stupid boarding school in… wherever, Germany…”
“Denmark. And yeah, I know,” Casey said. “I’ve rolled my eyes over his… habits, too.”
“Then why date the guy? I… again, honestly? Maybe he thinks that with the money, the status, whatever, that he’s somehow better than us, or anyone not lucky enough to be independently wealthy at nineteen,” Mr. Connor said, wrinkling his nose with frustration. He set his eyes on Casey, who was finally dipping his straw into his shake. “And I… that looks good.”
“Huh?”
“Your shake.”
“Oh. Yeah, they have the best,” Casey said. He leaned forward to take his first straw-full; he was unable to keep himself from humming contentedly. “Yeah, it’s been too long.”
“Lemmee try?” Mr. Connor asked, grabbing the extra straw the waitress had left them. Casey shrugged and pushed it his way. With a small smile, the man took a taste-a long one, making Casey cock an eyebrow.
“If you want one, you can order your own?” he teased.
“Mmm, sorry. That’s one helluva shake,” Mr. Connor said once he was done. Casey smirked and pulled it back to his side.
“So, you were saying?”
Mr. Connor sat back to recollect his thoughts. “Well, yeah, he seems to think he’s better, when really… and I’m not just saying this cos’ you’re my son, you’re leagues above that guy,” he said. “You never bug me and Mom over not going on weekly shopping sprees. You even insist on finding ways to supply tools and stuff for your camera-work, because you want it that way. You could have next-to-nothing and still be happy, when… Jeremy, there, he’d have a heart attack over getting a shirt from Kmart.”
“You’re exaggerating a little there, Dad,” Casey said. He fiddled with his straw and looked at the man. “Yeah, he comes from money and knows it-lets everyone know it, however he talks about it. But… I wouldn’t be dating him if he wasn’t a nice guy.”
“What’s so nice, though?”
“Well… when we first met at the photography club, it’d been my first time there. I was nervous, worried that everyone there would think I was a dorky newbie, even if I know I’m good. Good enough to be there with a bunch of other cam-geeks,” Casey explained. “There was a big snack table but I only took a little, didn’t want to look greedy. Before I could walk away and look for a spot furthest away from everyone, I felt someone tap my shoulder… I turned around and there Jeremy was, holding up this little cake thing, smiling and saying, ‘You’ve gotta be nuts if you didn’t take one of these.’ Turns out that everyone brings a snack of some kind, or stuff like napkins and plates. He brought a big box of petit-fours, all different flavors. Classy stuff, of course.”
“Hah, ‘course,” Mr. Connor said, rolling his eyes but smirking as Casey shrugged.
“But… it was sweet. And instead of him dumping it on my plate and taking off to join a big bunch of friends, he stayed with me there at the tables to talk. He asked me if I’d ever been there; when I said it was my first time, he was almost excited that he got the chance to be my ‘welcoming committee’. He’d been going there for over two years, with a full paid membership.”
“I thought that group was free?” Mr. Connor asked.
“Yeah, for the weekly meetings-anyone can go. But if you pay, you get mailed newsletters with lists of events and stuff, before they go up on the website. You also get a membership card that lets you get into any national park for free, a ticket to the art museum once a month, stuff like that,” Casey said. “He asked if I’d be signing up for that, if I liked what I saw that night. But it’s fifty bucks for a year’s membership, so I said no, didn’t have that kinda cash. He just shrugged and waved me over to his ‘favorite spot’, two rows down from the front. The meeting started soon after that, and instead of feeling nervous-I already felt a part of things.”
“That would’ve happened even without Jeremy there, though.”
“Well yeah, but it was still really nice. And he’s not some rich-kid who collects expensive photography stuff just to have it. He’s as into the art as I am. I don’t run into that all the time… never mind a guy like me, like that… y’know.”
Mr. Connor smirked. “I knew you were gay before YOU did, Casey. I know, okay?”
“Well… okay. A guy who’s gay, like me,” Casey said, lowering his voice a little and smiling back at Mr. Connor a moment. He was about to go on when their food arrived; two small plates were handed off and the large pile of gooey, cheese-covered fries put between them.
“Oh, that looks awesome,” Mr. Connor said, licking his lips.
“They’re the best in town, I promise,” the waitress told him with a wink. The slices of pie went next to the ‘main course’. “Anything else, guys?”
“All set, I think,” Casey said.
“Holler if you need me,” she said before setting off for the kitchen again.
“Damn,” Mr. Connor muttered as he dug his fork into the top of the pile. “I gotta go deep past all this friggin’ cheese…”
“Yeah, they give you your money’s worth,” Casey said, working his portion out from the edge.
For the next few minutes, their discussion was put off to the side in favor of chowing down. When Mr. Connor dove in for seconds, he didn’t bother with utensils; his fingers came back just as cheesy as the fries, making Casey chuckle and join along with the ‘screw manners’ idea. The thick sauce tasted good, getting licked off of his fingers. The plate was almost empty by the time Casey felt like talking again more than eating. “So…” he started, moving onto his pie. He picked at it with his fork as he thought, but Mr. Connor took one last bite from the fries, cleared his throat and shrugged.
“Like I said, I don’t know Jeremy well enough. And maybe that makes what I did unfair. But… you’re my son, and when it comes to whatever guy you bring home, I wanna meet a guy I feel’s worth your time,” Mr. Connor said.
“And Zeke’s ‘that guy’? When you hated him, what, a few weeks ago?” Casey said.
“I just saw the contrast. The stuff I didn’t like about Zeke, I realized… hadn’t mattered. So what if he swears like a sailor in front of parental units, or if he could use a few etiquette classes. He’s got his reasons for who he is, and I should’ve seen that. Back then,” Mr. Connor said. “When I heard you’d snagged a new boyfriend, I’d been thrilled at first. I’d worried that you and Zeke would patch things up and he’d be back, dropping f-bombs at will and… whatever. But then Jeremy showed up, and…”
Casey swallowed and stared at his pie. “You met him once and made up your mind? That’s…”
“I just don’t like him, Casey. I don’t,” Mr. Connor stated firmly. He still looked apologetic, but stern. “If I had my way, then yes-you’d see it my way and find someone else. Not even Zeke if that wouldn’t work, but someone else. But I DON’T have my way. All I can do is sit back and hope Jeremy ends up as nice as you say, or you see that he’s not all-that and bail.”
“Or hire Zeke as a weird relationship-hitman.” Casey gave him a pointed look. When all Mr. Connor did was sigh and shrug, Casey finally took a bite from his pie. It was delicious as always, even with the uncomfortable nature of their issues. “What gets me more, really-like I said, I went to Zeke’s after he texted. I had texted back as you, cos’ like hell I can’t get sneaky right back, at either one of you.”
That made Mr. Connor gnaw nervously at his lip, for sure. Casey didn’t pause for any replies, going on, “So I showed up, and he barely reacted. He was surprised, but more pissy and annoyed over it all. It wasn’t just his getting caught and wanting to avoid things. He’d gotten hurt in doing what he’d done.”
“Hurt? Cos’… you were mad at him about it? Cos’ like I said, it’d been my idea…”
“No, that ain’t it. Dad…” Casey paused to sigh and stare at his barely-touched dessert. “…He told me a lot, more than he’d ever done when we’d been together. I let him, cos’ he needed it. He needed it cos’… I hadn’t let him talk or have any real say in how shit went. He made me realize that, and I felt bad about it. But-I’m sure you know already, he does miss me. I dunno if it’s enough that he’d really, really want me back, but…”
“He does. He said as much.”
Even if Casey knew, deep down that Zeke did, he hadn’t wanted to have it confirmed. He sat back, hissing out a frustrated breath. “So what you decided to friggin’ do sucks even MORE, Dad,” he said. “Like, let’s say you guys kept this stupid secret ‘alliance’ you had from me, I never, ever found out. Who said me and Zeke would hook back up? And if we somehow had, that’s like… he’d have to keep that secret, while being with me at the same time. It’s complicated enough, a guy being with another guy, who needs that kind of stress?”
Mr. Connor joined Casey in having a staring contest with his pie. “Saying ‘I hadn’t thought things through’ is stupid, cos’ having done it altogether’s enough. But it’s still true,” he said.
“He’s hurt enough over everything that went down between us, our breaking-up, everything. I haven’t known how deep it went, ‘til tonight-so you going to him, as if your ‘plan’ would get us back together, even just a little…” Casey paused to take a bite, more out of duty than feeling hungry for it. “I feel shitty all-around. If I’d known how bad he’d felt, I just…”
“I’m sorry, Casey. Really. For hurting you and Zeke. I hadn’t meant for that to happen… though how I thought things would be ‘just fine’…”
“Do you just not trust me, Dad?”
The question made Mr. Connor snap his eyes back up to Casey. “No, I do, it’s-“ he stopped dead, furrowing his brow a few moments before looking away again. “I trust you, but I don’t know if I’d ever trust any guy who comes around. I just never want you to do something you’d regret later. Being with someone, or being in love… that stuff can make you blind and stupid.”
“Maybe. But if I fuck up, I fuck up. Your job ain’t to play interference. You always said when I was growing-up, how if I made mistakes to do my best to learn from them. I can’t do that if you jump in like you’re my stuntman, keeping me safe and… shit,” Casey said.
It went quiet for a moment, allowing Casey to go ahead and finish his dessert. Even with his sour mood, he knew better than to have something as delicious as this to end up in a trashcan. When he finished, he looked up to find his father giving him a small smile. “What?”
“Nothing. Just wondering how you ended up so damned smart, when apparently, I’m a total idiot,” Mr. Connor replied.
“God, you’re not an idiot, Dad…”
“About this, I am. I guess I gotta sit back and learn how to deal with it by watching you. I’m smiling, yeah, but… I’m not kidding,” Mr. Connor said. “It’s a comfort to me as a dad, getting to see my son’s character like this.”
Casey blinked furiously, shrugged and sat back. “Well, there’s a reason for that…” He couldn’t help a pause now, while trying hard not to smile. As he saw his father’s face go pink with pride, Casey finished with, “…Mom.”
“Oh, for…” Mr. Connor rolled his eyes but betrayed himself with a hearty round of chuckles. Casey chuckled with him.
“Kidding. Both of you helped, ‘k? You just suck right now, not forever.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mr. Connor drawled. He took the last bite of his dessert and looked past Casey to the front. “This is a cool place. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“’Welcome,” Casey said.
“How about… we make this a regular thing? A Wednesday night, Dad-and-Son hangout at the diner? Might be good, keeping each other in check, instead of hiring exes as private investigators,” Mr. Connor said.
“Eh… I’ll think about it. You’re kinda on ‘probation’ with me for a bit,” Casey replied.
“After those fries and the pie?”
“Yup.”
Mr. Connor smirked, Casey joining him. “You’re already saying ‘yes’, I know it.”
“We’ll see…” Casey breathed out the words, just as the waitress arrived with their check. Mr. Connor took it, thanked her for the food then got up to go to the front register. He gave Casey’s shoulder a squeeze on the way. The boy smiled, dug out his wallet and pulled out a five and some change to cover the tip.
“So, home-again, home-again… hey,” Mr. Connor said upon his return; he pointed at the cash Casey had left. “What’s that for?”
“Um, a tip? It’s an American custom to-“
“Oh, please, put it back in your wallet…” Mr. Connor waved the five and ones he held, but Casey shook his head.
“You wanna make this a regular thing? Pay the tab all you want; tip’s MY end of the deal,” he said.
Mr. Connor raised his eyebrows. “If that’s how you want it… okay. BUT… if it’s all you’ve got on you, I’ll know and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Whatever,” Casey said. With a grin, he shuffled out from the booth, got his coat and hat on and walked alongside his dad on their way back to the car. “So… when we get back, want me to not go in with you at first, and you rush in all panicking, telling her I jumped out at a red to run away and never come back?”
“Oh GOD, Casey, she’d freak! No, no, no-o-o…”
“Hey, she had a role in this mess, she deserves something…?”
“No, young man.” Mr. Connor’s grin grew as he got the car open and they took their seats. As he switched the engine on, he said, “Don’t be so hasty. Spend a little time, give it some thought. That’s how the best pranks are thought up.”
The man had a point. Grinning devilishly, Casey said, “I’ll have to get some lessons from the master on this ‘craft’, huh?”
“Oh, the tricks I’ve pulled on that poor woman…” Mr. Connor said, chortling as he got them out on the road for home.
~*~
There were still things to work on and improve, but Casey’s mood the next morning was brighter than usual. It’d taken some trudging through uncomfortable, even sad subjects between him, Zeke and his father, but the stress from confronting those issues had been worth it, now. ‘Now’ consisted of walking into school and seeing Zeke at his locker, finding the usual scene.
“Just-DO what I WANT y-you to, damn i-it…” the young man all but growled through gritted teeth as he attempted to shove his coat past the messy contents of his locker. “The fuck is that HOOK, god…”
“Hey, Zeke,” Casey greeted him with a cocked eyebrow and smirk. Zeke paused in his struggle to look back.
“You’re small. See if you can cram yourself in this thing, wedge everything halfway in,” Zeke said. He even reached to Casey’s arm, which the boy drew back fast, chuckling.
“How about I help you clean it out? That’s a bit more practical,” Casey said.
“I don’t wanna know what I’d find, doing that.”
“Might be fun. Find shit you haven’t seen in like, five years?” Casey said. When all Zeke did was shrug, Casey looked at his watch; they had more than enough time before the homeroom warning-bell rang. “C’mon, I’ll take the floor, you get the top.”
Zeke smirked and stepped off to the side a little, letting Casey kneel on the hallway floor to start digging around. Casey had to chuckle already at his first find. “Thought you said you never read the school rag?” he said, raising the wrinkled, crumpled edition of the school paper he’d found crammed against the wall. Zeke shrugged.
“I only snagged it cos’ it’s the one that has the little article, there. The one… ow…” Zeke drew his hand back quick and sucked his thumb. “The fuck was that…”
Casey managed to open the almost-unreadable paper; he smiled, seeing the picture of himself on page three, with the announcement, ‘HHH’s Own Casey ‘Tripod’ Connor Reveals the Secrets of Taking The ‘Perfect Picture’! “Aw. I’d somehow ended up without a copy of this one, my mom was pissed,” he said.
“Snag it,” Zeke said.
“You sure?”
Huffing and puffing from his battle with a stubborn, torn-up shirt that seemed cemented to the inside, Zeke looked down and rolled his eyes. “What about the thing’s current state tells you I can’t live without it?” he said with a smirk.
“Gee, thanks…” Casey said, sticking his tongue out at him before setting it aside to continue helping.
Most people didn’t tire themselves out or start sweating when it came to locker cleaning. But ‘most people’ didn’t turn their lockers into an insufferable, begotten mess like Zeke Tyler did. At one point, Zeke was trying to work an extension cord out from the top, while Casey found a second at the bottom. It took them a while to figure out why neither of them could dislodge it, as there was just one cord, with two boys holding either end and bitching about how it wouldn’t come free.
“Why the fuck do you have that in here, anyway?” Casey said as he paused to catch his breath.
“Hey man, when you gotta charge your phone and all outlets are taken? I’ve been a superhero, dragging this thing out for not just me but five others to get wired,” Zeke explained.
“What’d you charge ‘em to use it, five bucks apiece?”
“Pfft, no. That’s ridiculous.” Zeke got the cord free and began wrapping it around his arm to get it together. Before Casey turned away, he smirked and said, “Just a buck.”
“Knew it,” Casey said, chortling. He sat up straight to return to his ‘charity work’, when the bell rang. He whipped his head back to Zeke. “Shit, been longer than I thought.”
“Barely put a dent in this thing. Ain’t gonna get it sparkling in two minutes. Fuck it.”
They did their best to stuff the things Zeke put in the ‘keep’ pile back in, thankfully small enough then worked the door closed. It took both of them, with Zeke tucking anything trying to escape through the crack Casey left for him, until Zeke said, “Now!” then jumped back to let Casey shut it in a slap and clack! Taking a deep breath, Zeke crossed his arms and muttered, “Well, that was a futile effort.”
“Well, you never eat lunch. We might be able to grab a few trash bags through the day, come back and finish,” Casey said.
“Is this a weird idea of ‘fun’ to you, or something?” Zeke asked, wearing a quirky grin.
“No. I just don’t want you getting expelled for accidentally exposing the whole school to whatever deadly diseases are growing in there. I have a great immune system, so I’ll be fine.”
“Always so hilarious, Casey. Ugh, fine… see you back here at quarter-of,” Zeke said. They strolled down the hall, with Zeke’s homeroom coming first. Before he went in, he called, “If you see any hazmat suits kicking around, snag ‘em!”
Casey laughed. “You got it!” he called back before the young man’s grin disappeared past Ms. Herman’s door.
~*~
“I saw an axe in the janitor’s closet, when one of the guys was coming out. But that’s all I would’ve needed on my record.”
Casey laughed as he returned to the locker project, finding Zeke already there. He lifted the two trash bags he’d stolen from trashcans in the boy’s room on the second floor, earning a thumb’s up from Zeke. “Don’t ask where I got ‘em. I might be sent to prison,” Casey said.
“Yeah, grand larceny was my first thought… you get the top this time. Didn’t even think of the horror-show the bottom could hold. If one of us is to die, it should be me for creating this fucking disaster,” Zeke told him.
“Fine by me,” Casey said before rubbing his hands together and stepping next to Zeke’s crouched form. “So, any way my helping you lets me… invoke the ‘finders, keepers’ rule?”
“Yeah, if you’re an immature eight-year old. Go nuts.”
Casey snorted. “Kidding,” he said as he dug around in the small cubby-sized space at the top. He found it the least cluttered that he’d seen so far, besides a haphazardly-folded and crushed stack of various magazines. “Keep?” he asked once wrenching them out to show Zeke.
“Trash ‘em. Oh-wait-no…” Zeke said in a rush and raised his hand to them. “Newsweek, I could give a damn, but I’ve been looking for this one copy of Rolling Stone for ages now…”
As Zeke preoccupied himself with magazine-searching, Casey got on tiptoe to get a look to the back of the locker. He paused when he saw a non-descript paper bag, the top folded into a roll and holding something. Something that would scar Casey’s psyche, if he dared take it out and peek into. “Uh, looks like a lunchbag crammed up in here… didn’t stumble on any of those hazmat suits you were talking about before… did you?”
“I’ve never, not once, brought a bagged lunch to school. Whatever it is, it shouldn’t kill you,” Zeke said in a distracted voice before saying, “THERE it is, wow…”
Casey smiled down at Zeke, who was now leafing through the long-lost magazine, now found. “See? Already worth the trouble,” he said.
“You’re too good to me, boy.”
Casey chuckled, looked back to the bag then, with some caution, reached to it and brought it out. Turning it around to look at the other side, he frowned. “’Park Street Jeweler’s’?” he said aloud. “What’s-“
Casey almost jumped when suddenly, the bag was snatched from his hands by Zeke. He turned his deepening frown down at him; Zeke had left the magazine behind to now stuff the thing away in his duffel bag. He said nothing, making Casey curious enough to smirk. “What was it?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Su-u-ure it wasn’t. C’mon, who’s getting a surprise proposal here at Herrington High? I won’t tell.”
Zeke went still and looked-angry? Not at Casey, his gaze set dead ahead at the locker next to his. After a moment or two, he sighed, reached back into his bag and drew it out. “Late birthday present,” he said in a gruff mutter while thrusting it up at Casey.
“Huh? Late is right, my birthday’s January eigh…” He went to say, but he stopped cold. Everything seemed to stop-the whole world had screeched to a halt as Casey realized, ‘You were so pissed at yourself, making yourself single three days before your stupid birthday…’
“May as well take it. It’s non-refundable, I know nobody I wanna give it to and it ain’t mine to keep,” Zeke said. His expression was blank, almost tired.
“You… sure?”
With a groan, Zeke stood, stepped over to Casey’s messenger bag and stuffed the-whatever it was-inside. “Open it later, when you’re home,” he said. Casey nodded dumbly; without another word, Zeke returned to his kneeling on the floor and digging around, Casey noting that he worked with greater purpose and force, now.
~*~
By the time Casey’s last class was over, he swore that the inside of his bag was going to burst into flames with the anxiety he felt toward its contents alone. He’d barely paid attention to anything any teacher had said, especially during chemistry; the pounding of his pulse as Zeke took notes right next to them at their shared lab table drowned out all sound.
It couldn’t have been anything all that life-changing. Zeke had originally handed it off to him, right there in the hall, expecting Casey to open it without any ceremony or significance. Yet at the last moment, he’d changed his mind. This was something Casey needed to reveal behind his bedroom door, with no one else around.
‘Can’t be a ring,’ he thought, even shaking his head briskly as he rushed home from the bus stop. He had the gait of a soldier, his strides wide and at triple-time. It was Thursday-Mom had her usual shift at the hairdresser’s, his father on his nine-to-five, five days a week job, slaving away at the factory. Casey would still close his bedroom door behind him, but he wouldn’t have to explain any odd, noticeable mood to either parent when he came out. ‘Could be nothing, really, chill the hell out,’ he thought as he reached his home, took the five porch steps in one strong jump and got inside.
For all he knew, the entire floor of the main entrance was covered in his winter clothing; he hadn’t bothered to check if his coat had fallen from the coatrack in his careless tossing it in the general direction. The only thing his mind was on was the belated birthday gift. Given how these things usually went, he figured he’d end up finding something from Spencer’s, whatever gag-gift Zeke had seen fit to celebrate Casey’s day with. It’d be just like him, dressing it all up in such a fancy, jaw-dropping way… only to laugh and yell, “Psyche!” when Casey opened a ring box and got squirted in the face by a fake flower…
Open it later, when you’re home. Zeke’s words rang through Casey’s head, mixing it with the same strong pulsing, fuzzy blood-rush from before, echoing in his ears. Casey got into his room, shut the door and put his messenger bag gingerly on the bed. ‘You’re home, open it,’ he thought, but felt an odd sense of fear over it. It took him more than a minute to unclasp the bag’s flap, reach in and
BRR-rr-ring! the phone in the hallway suddenly screamed, making Casey hop a little in his seat. He growled as he considered not answering it, but… ‘Mom got pissed the LAST time you were home but didn’t pick up,’ he thought. Casting a woeful look to the small bit of brown paper he’d exposed, he got up, strode back out and grabbed the cordless phone from the wall. “Hello??”
“Whoa!”
Casey blinked, hearing the familiar chuckling on the other end. “Oh. Hi, Jeremy,” he said.
“Hey yourself. You okay? Kinda deafened me, there,” he said.
“Yeah, uh… sorry. Had to… run to pick up,” Casey lied. He ventured back into his room and sat on the bed, but didn’t move to open Zeke’s gift-not with the phone to his ear, with Jeremy now chattering away.
“Well, ANY-way… I was calling to see what you were up to tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow? I… dunno. Why?”
“A friend of mine invited me and a ‘guest’ of my choice to this little soiree he’s having. You’ll never guess who I want that guest to be,” Jeremy said.
“Um, I… what exactly IS that?”
“What’s what?”
Casey’s eyes felt like they were burning in his sockets with the stare he had on the small swatch of brown, peeking out from his bag. “Soiree,” Casey dryly answered.
“What? Oh, honey… that’s French for ‘one of the most awesome parties you’ll ever go to’,” Jeremy said, chuckling again. “If you think MY place is big, wait ‘til you see where Thomas shacks up. Bring your suit-indoor pool and everything.”
Casey couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the name ‘Thomas’ pronounced ’Tho-MAHS’… perhaps it’d never been said like that in Casey’s presence. “Yeah, I guess. Um, what time?”
“How about I pick you up from school?”
“Um-it’s a half-day for me, tomorrow, actually,” Casey said. “Inservice day.”
“Oh. Well, then at your place? Six o’clock? And hey, good deal… you’ll have plenty of time to get yourself beautiful.”
You’re beautiful already, the fuck’s he on about? Casey heard in his head, his thoughts being spoken in a voice that sounded an awfully lot like Zeke’s. He sniffed in hard and said, “Six sounds cool, yeah.”
“Cool. You… sound a bit distracted, everything really okay?” Jeremy asked.
“Yeah, yeah, just… downed a coffee to get through today’s homework haul,” he lied again, doing his best to add a light-hearted chuckle. “Which means that I should get off the phone.”
“Aw. Well, yeah, you’re right. Failing a test might ground you from going out tomorrow,” Jeremy said.
“Hah, not a fail sits on my record, promise. Anyway… yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“A’right! Maybe I’ll call during lunch, since you’re a lucky jerk who gets out early…” Jeremy said. “Tomorrow then. Bye!”
“Bye,” Casey said then hung up. The phone was dropped down to the other side of the bed and he straightened. ‘Maybe you should blink, I dunno?’ he thought, realizing that the source of the burning most likely belonged to his keeping his eyes wide open for almost a minute straight. After a few snaps of his eyelids and giving them a small rub, he sighed, shuffled closer to his bag and finally, finally, drew out the mysterious lost-but-found gift. The top was unrolled slowly with shaking fingers then opened wide.
Peeking inside, Casey swallowed not just in seeing the plain, non-descript square box, but the small envelope it was taped to. He finally dared to reach in and take it all out. Sure enough, ‘Casey’ was written on the card in Zeke’s handwriting, nothing more. In his turning the gift around to find it, he felt the weight of whatever was inside-it was so light, Casey wondered if it was empty.
Following the usual tradition of gift-opening, the card was pulled free from its taped position on the box and opened first. Casey grabbed at the card inside, tugged it free then immediately fell into a giggle-fit...
1… 2… 3… 4… 5! was printed from the top down, the number five being the largest and placed underneath a cartoon boy. The boy’s arms were held up in triumph, celebrating his fifth year as a human being all while wearing a superhero’s cape. His bright smile was marred by one missing tooth in front. Casey’s smile was one of amusement AND relief… just like Zeke, sending this silliness along. Even if it’d gotten to Casey more than a month after his day. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he thought as he flipped it open to read the inside.
Below the simple rhyme made for a Kindergartener was Zeke’s own message: just becuz you’re 18 doesn’t mean you can’t be 5 when you wanna.
When you got the choice, go with 5. Maybe even 4. Stay young and beautiful forever, Case.
Love,
Zeke
Wherever the hot tension climbing up from his arms to his neck and straight to his face had come from, Casey couldn’t say. It couldn’t be the words the then-boyfriend Zeke had jotted down; he’d said the same kind of things before. Perhaps not all at once, as he’d put it down in here, but…
‘When had he gotten this, written this?’ It had to have been somewhere near the end, and definitely during Casey’s new habit of name-calling the young man. The heat inside of him started growing, making him feel sick. How had Zeke had the voice in him to say-or really, write-out, something even MORE personal-these gorgeous words? Casey hadn’t given him any inspiration for them. This bag should have been filled with what a dog-walker charge left on lawns and sidewalks, thrown at Casey’s front door, not a sweet card with whatever gift accompanied it. Casey looked to the box and tensed all over, needing to fight the tension in his arms down to reach over, pick it up and undo the tape holding it closed. Opening the lid and looking at the contents, his lips trembled open.
The gold four-leaf clover sitting on the cotton square shimmered in the sunlight coming from Casey’s window, creating the illusion of its holding mystical, magical properties. Something like this probably grew in the fantasy land of leprechauns, the sign that a pot of gold was near. ‘Is it… a pin?’ Casey thought as he gently flipped it over. No clasp, pin or ring for attachment was there. Just the small, life-sized plant made into a golden trinket for Casey to have…
‘Made… into…’ Casey thought with growing amazement. In picking the item up, the square came free and landed softly on his lap. Casey’s brow twitched as a small square of folded paper, hidden under the cotton, was revealed. He picked it up and carefully unfolded it, spread it out over his thigh and again, Zeke’s handwriting made some explanation-or really, what had started coming to mind already:
You insisted I take it, that you’d felt lucky enough. I told you I’d keep it for a while, see if it works then give it back to its rightful owner when I was done. I added a few ‘extras’ to it though, give it MORE luck-potential. Who knows, right?
Anyway, I feel lucky, too. Really fuckin’ lucky.
-Z
‘He’d brought it to… Park Street…’ Casey thought with wild wonder, enough to make him dizzy. Somewhere past the expertly-crafted gold covering rested the tiny little surprise Casey had found during one of their trips out to the park for his usual film-filling hobby. His eye for detail had spotted it from a standing position, glasses needed or not. Zeke, the utter spaz that he’d get to being at times, never would have found it. Therefore, he needed it more.
It’d been such a sweet but quick exchange, one Casey hadn’t thought back on, until now. Now-he could almost feel the hot summer sun that had beaten down on them, so bright that the green leaves had seemed to glow against the pale skin of his palm as he’d handed it over. “Put it somewhere safe,” he’d told Zeke, who’d smiled and said,
“You’re the one who found it, though.”
“So I decide where it ends up,” Casey had replied before winking and turning back to his camera-work. Five seconds worth of interaction that held so much warmth and feeling that Casey was a part of something in the world-something worth being around for, and with.
Casey stared at the little, glowing gift until his sight went blurry from the many tears piling up. They spilled when he let out a gut-shuddering breath and sob; Casey closed the box, set the tape back to keep the little leaf safe, put it aside and pressed both sets of fingers up against his eyes. ‘I wanna go to him,’ he thought without reserve as he cried quietly to himself, trying to untangle every knot that had formed in him in the last fifteen minutes… there were a few he felt had been there much longer than that, however. He didn’t know where to start.
~*~