Seven-Seven
Title: Oh So Quiet (Pt. 7)
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: R (for suggestive...ness)
Synopsis: Change is good.
Mornings had changed. Where before Zeke or Casey would wake and head downstairs alone, whoever woke first would wait for the other. They wouldn’t bother trying to wake their sleeping partner; it was nice to watch the early morning glow rise upon skin, making eyelashes flutter and open slightly. Where before there’d be sleepy-eyed greetings, usually in a one-syllable groan (“Morn’”, “Heyyy…”), there were now shy smiling kisses, no words needed. Showers were no longer separate.
And Casey loved it.
It’d been a good three days since their ‘wash’, and Casey was treated to so many things since. It was mind boggling to him how honestly affectionate Zeke could be. Back in school, Zeke had been nothing but a cold jackass, too hell bent on keeping up the image of a ‘bad boy’ for anyone to truly give any care back to him. If Casey were to speak on how truly lovely Zeke could be, those listening would laugh and walk off, shaking their heads and mumbling ‘gullible dork’. But it wasn’t some trick on Zeke’s part; if he were only trying to get laid, he would have kicked Casey out by NOW.
Casey knew Zeke’s rep by now, by YEARS before; he’d see girls either scowl or swoon when Zeke would pass by in the hallways during rare school attendance he’d take. The swooning girls had either fucked him or wanted to be fucked by him; the scowling girls… had either fucked him or he’d turned them down. Either way, Zeke had been the most fuckable student in all of Herrington High’s history, even if he was barely there to enjoy it. So there it was: Casey, the LEAST fuckable of the students, was now fucking the MOST.
There was a lot of fucking going on, too; Casey wouldn’t have it any other way, really.
He was just opening the toaster oven to get his pop tart out when Zeke emerged from the living room, scratching his privates and yawning heavily. Casey grinned and blushed. “Still haven’t woken up?”
“Hells no.” Zeke groaned, going to the fridge and grabbing the carton of orange juice. He opened it and slugged some down then and there, making Casey grimace.
“I REALLY want your germs, Zeke,” Casey complained with a wry smile. Zeke turned to look at him, cocking an eyebrow.
“And where was that dirty little mouth of yours this mornin’, Case?”
Casey instantly blushed; he’d asked for that one. “Shuttup,” he murmured.
“Nooo. I asked you, ‘where was that dirty little mouth of yours this mornin’?” Zeke said in an amused but insistent voice. Casey put his pastries on a plate and looked back at him with a shuddering grin.
“On your… thing,”
Zeke stepped back, eyes wide in yet more amusement. “My thing,” he repeated. Casey swallowed a chuckle as he turned back to his breakfast. Zeke didn’t give up however; he walked over and plopped himself up onto the counter, sighing deeply. “You know what I want you to do right now, Case?”
“What’s that,” Casey blankly replied, trying to hold back the mounds of giggles in his throat. Zeke crossed his arms and gave him a serious look.
“I want you… to put your hand at my crotch and tell me, ‘Oh Zeke… I want your ‘thing’ in me SO BAD,’”
Casey darted his eyes to Zeke, giving him an expression of shock. “You jackass, I’m not doing that!!”
“Why not??”
“Fine. You want me to say it then??”
“Sure,”
Casey snorted a laugh and put his hand at Zeke’s inner thigh, moving it up, up… once he heard the small hitch in Zeke’s breath he grinned, leaning to Zeke’s ear and whispering, “Zeke… I so… SOOO… want… your cock in my ass,”
It was Zeke’s turn to blush now, but he recovered quickly. Casey smiled devilishly as Zeke cupped his hand to Casey’s face. “Knew you could do it, boy,” he said, kissing Casey’s nose and hopping back down. As he walked away Casey crossed his arms.
“What, you’re just leaving?”
“I got some Springer to watch,” Zeke yelled back. Casey grinned and shook his head; turning back to his plate, he found one of his pop tarts had vanished.
“Fucker,” he muttered with a smile.
“Casey?”
“Mmm?”
“If you could live anywhere else, where would it be?”
Casey brought his head out from under the desk, where he was working on wiring up his computer. He blinked furiously up at Zeke. “What do you mean?”
“Case, it’s not a hard question,” Zeke said, smiling.
“Hah… screwdriver,”
“Where’s that?”
“No… hand me the screwdriver,”
“Oh,” Zeke said, reaching to the toolbox on the desk. Handing it down to Casey he sighed. “Seriously though, where?”
“Uh… Westerly,” Casey replied, getting back behind the disk drive. He heard Zeke huff out a breath.
“Where’s that?”
“No, hand me the…” Casey went to say but got a swift kick to the shin. “OW! Fuck, I can’t even joke with you?”
“Casey…”
“Okay, okay. Westerly, it’s in Rhode Island.” Casey said. “Right along the beaches and all,”
“You wanna live in a tourist trap?” Zeke asked. Casey grinned and rolled his eyes.
“It’s not, trust me. I went there as a kid to visit great-grandparents,” Casey explained, grunting the words out as he pushed and pulled at a stubborn plug. “It’s got it’s share of shops and stuff, but definitely not some crappy boardwalk. Just beaches, a couple food stands… maybe an amusement park or two,”
“Huh. Sounds nice,”
“It is.”
“Never been to a real beach,” Zeke said. Casey came out from under the desk entirely in hearing this.
“You haven’t??” he asked, shocked. Zeke shrugged and gave Casey an incredulous expression.
“Well? We live in fuckin’ Ohio, Case- and as you know already, my parents weren’t exactly the type to go on vacas,” Zeke explained. Casey’s look softened, his teeth immediately biting onto his lip.
“Sorry,”
“Not a prob,” Zeke replied. Casey glanced under the desk then turned back, putting his knees up and his arms around them.
“Why is it they left… anyways?” Casey asked tentatively; the new ‘sweeter and improved Zeke’ around or not, Casey knew better than to pry too hard into things. Luckily, Zeke remained cool, at least by his stance and expression.
“Well… probably weren’t happy.”
“Nobody just ups and leaves like that ‘cause they’re ‘not happy’.” Casey replied.
“Why not? Shit Case, you had parents that WANTED to settle down and have a family. The pretty house, backyard, all that,” Zeke said. He moved to sit on the coffee table, leaning forward and frowning slightly. “Mine were the ‘go getters’, the true seventies generation. They used to go dancing all the time to all sorts of clubs, and not just around here. They actually got into clubs and did contests, all the way out to New York City. Fuck, they even got themselves into Studio 54 a few times, though I dunno how,”
Casey’s eyebrows rose. “NO one got into Studio 54,” he joked, smiling. Zeke returned it, a bit smaller than what Casey wore.
“I got a few albums in the attic as proof. They were smart; you didn’t get into clubs like that WITHOUT a camera, even if you had to try and sneak ‘em in. Got a few shots of my mom standing next to Ivana Trump, even,” Zeke said, making Casey’s eyes grow wider. “Yea, so… they danced a lot,”
“Oh,” Casey said; it was apparent that Casey’s ‘oh’ was more of a lead-in to have Zeke go on. Zeke must have felt it as he looked up really quick and gave Casey a corner smile.
“I kinda… ‘ruined’ their New York trips, if you catch my drift,” he said. Casey felt his heart sink in his chest, even if he knew where this had all been going. It made him sad for just one second, but it shifted to anger.
“You didn’t do shit, Zeke,” he said in a stern tone. Zeke rolled his eyes.
“Sure I didn’t; they really COULD have gotten in with my mom all pregged-out no problem, then some drooling little fuck on her hip. That made the ‘scene’ back then…” Zeke sarcastically replied; this only made Casey angrier. He stood up and frowned, shaking his head.
“Your parents wanna blame someone for that, all they gotta do is look in a fucking mirror. Fuck, make YOUR life shit because of what THEY did? Jesus…”
“I came along Case, that’s all I’m sayin’,” Zeke said with a shrug. “Let’s not get into this. I’m cool with it,”
“How CAN you be?”
“Wouldn’t want them around anyways. Please, damn it… don’t think I haven’t said the same shit you’re saying right now to myself. I KNOW they’re fucks… and that’s why I’m better off without them,” Zeke told him. Casey let his chest fall from it’s aggressive posture, deflating with Zeke’s own admissions.
“Fine… all right,” he said. Zeke smiled and took one of Casey’s belt loops, pulling him over. Casey smiled as Zeke then put his arms around his waist; his head turned and let his cheek rest upon Casey’s stomach, nodding into it as a form of comfort. Casey closed his eyes and breathed in deep, putting his hands on Zeke’s head and stroking his hair gently. Yea… they were better off.