(no subject)
Title: Let it Go, Boy
Fandom/Pairing: The Faculty- Casey/Zeke
Rating: R
Synopsis: Casey's skeered. Zeke likes.
Disclaimer: Don't own, got, or even own STOCK in 'The Faculty' or it's plots/characters.
Writ for the 'Something Happens/Both Perspectives' challenge in contrelamontre... started at 3:27
God, it's late. I'm waiting for the typical scenario of zombies or monsters or just plain old psycho-killers to jump outta the bushes nearby and kill both Zeke and I as he's trying to figure out why his car broke down. In the middle of nowhere. Someplace I don't recognize. With killers and monsters and lions hiding in the bushes. Oh my.
Yes. I am a paranoid fucker. I can't really help it; it's not everday you run into someone like MaryBeth, kill her along with a string of people connected to her, then go off and act like everything is normal. It wasn't so bad, but... damn, I have no CLUE as to how Zeke manages it.
He's hunched over the engine, half-smoked cigarette stuck in his lips, hands roaming over certain engine parts. Every now and again he'll grunt, sounding annoyed, and I'll ask "Can I help?" and he'll grunt what sounds like denial back at me. I was content to stand around and maybe even stroll a bit towards this small swamp next to us, but now I've started thinking about chainsaws and bloody knives-as-fingernails, I'm closer to Zeke with every thought. "You know..." I start to speak after awhile, wanting something else to be heard other than the deep moan of crickets and peepers and-fuck, was that an evil cackle in the distance..??? "That... I have an EXTREME fear of things like this?"
"Mmmhmm," Zeke mumbles back at me as he reaches further down into... well fuck if I know, it's a car.
"Remember that time at your place when we caught that late night horror flick?"
"Mmmhmm,"
"Yea. It's feeling like that again."
"You were ready to piss your pants, weren't you?" he says, leaning up to look at me with that 'I'm-So-Much-Cooler-Than-You' smile. It's infectious, making me give him a shaky grin back when maybe I should smack him for acting like a jerk.
"Pretty much." I admitted. Nothing like the truth. Zeke sighs and leans onto the opened end of the car. He tosses the finished cigarette onto the dirt road; I watch it bounce and leave sparks as he speaks.
"Look. I'd told you then that if flesh-eating zombies suddenly burst through the doors and windows that I'd fight 'em to the death. Right?"
"Uh huh."
"You're okay, Casey."
"Yea," I say; I'm still not so sure. "But they're pretty strong, y'now- and now, we're standing around with a broken down car on a street where no one goes and no houses or stores or ANY sign of life for miles-"
"Shit, you can ramble on and on," Zeke says, sounding amused as he returns to look at the car. I lean also, trying to relax, even if that crack of a twig that just sounded off didn't sound like it was made by a small animal.
"Zeke?"
"Mmmm?"
"If someone... something REALLY came down this way, you would so totally kill 'em, right?"
Zeke chuckles. "Case."
"Yes?" I reply, even if his saying my name was more statement than question.
"Look."
I turn my head, watch him lift his shirt past his jeans' waist; a glint of metal shines in the moonlight, making the gun look holy. I sigh, nodding. "Yea. Okay." I reply. He nods and returns to continue fixing the car. "Know what's wrong yet?"
"Yea. Just a problem with the anti-freeze hose or something. I can fix it."
"How long ya think?"
Zeke sighs deeply, and I look over again. His shirt is more resting on the gun than passing by it, leaving a rumpled looking mess of fabric over Zeke's hip. For a second I'm not thinking of demons and hell-beasts; I'm thinking of him lifting his shirt up all the way. Zeke's fucking hot. He was saying something though, um..."What?"
"I said, it might be a little while. I've gotta find a few patches in the trunk."
"Oh."
Zeke passes by me, smiling in this weird fashion. He's probably thinking about what a nuisance I am, or how I'm so fucking chicken. For someone who took down an alien queen, I'm pretty... wait. "Is there scat in your trunk?"
Now he's just laughing, popping the door open to search inside. "Yea. Why?"
"Can I hold onto some... just in case?" I ask. Zeke sighs again, coming back with a small toolbox and three pens of scat.
"Here. Go wild."
"I'm not gonna HAVE any, I just want it so if we get attacked-"
"Fuck Casey, just TAKE some and stop worrying. Some giggling might help you out right now."
Damn. He's right. I look at the pens in my hand, wondering what the newspaper headlines would look like: 'Herrington-Hero gets five year sentence: "I just wanted to giggle!'". Kee-rist.
"Will you do some with me... when you're done, Zeke?" I ask.
"Not if you want me to drive us home." he answers me. I groan, staring at a pen. Putting the two others in my pocket, I lift up the other to my face; like I'd never left it, really. White glows from inside, tiny sparkles of whatever 'household shit' glinting off slightly. I uncork it and in one swift move, snort it, hard and heavy straight into my brain- or FUCK, feels like it, anyways...
"Shhhhit..."
"Good?"
I have to blink a few hundred times to answer him. "S'all right..." I reply, leaning back onto the car. "Take yer time, Zeke. Sorry I'm being so dumb," I say. I see his smile throught the dark.
"Never a prob, Case,"
*****
My car ain't broken, Casey. Nothing wrong with it at all. I'm glad you don't know about cars, and how a REAL 'I can't start this thing' sounds. I've just needed the excuse.
You need to loosen up, boy. Get some air under those wings of yours and let yourself go. I hate it when you're too scared to move, even if it can get really fucking thrilling. I DID like the way you'd almost jump in my lap watching that cheesy zombie flick a few weeks ago; you'd gotten plastered to my side that night, clutching the blankets around us like they were armor against monsters instead of cloth. I just KNOW that you were one of those kids who threw a blanket over them when they thought someone was 'gonnea get them', that whole childish- yet wonderfully naive reaction within an unrealistic, non-existent situation. That's something I love about you.
Yea. I said love.
So here I am, pretending that the car's shit the bed because damn, Casey- you're so fucking hot when you're scared. Noticed it during our little amusement park ride with MaryBeth. Loved pressing you into those lockers, forcing scat on you. I was scared too, but that visual sticks in my mind to this day. Eyes wide and angry, defiant- but so scared. So fucking scared.
Got to give you SOME relief, showing you my gun. Saw that your eyes looked elsewhere; wasn't just my piece that got you off, eh? Naw. I read that journal of yours when you weren't looking.
"Zeke and a gun, it's too fucking hot for me to describe..."
But 'cha did, kid. It was a good read. Hope you wouldn't find me as some prying asshole for doing that; I was honestly looking for that book you said you'd lend me, and you were downstairs looking for that video game, so I took my chances. Glad I did.
I wanted to see all of this tonight, so I went through the motions. Saw that the road didn't look that travelled upon, no houses... nothing. Just a small field, the moon and SO many scary possibilities. There you are right this second, holding pens of scat. My heart leaps when I see you take one to your nose and get some of my special 'fairy dust' in you. Maybe I'll do some later when I take you to my house to fuck you blind.
Oh, yes. Yes, yes, Casey. While I've got you on your stomach, ass up in full presentation, I'm going to let you know all of this, just so I'm not seen as some liar, some dishonest prick. I've got the feeling that you won't mind one bit.
Afterwards, we can go downstairs and watch this AWESOME flick that's gonna play on Fox; something about teenagers getting chopped up, one by one, by this psycho killer. I think you might like that. I know I will.
Finished 4:11
Fandom/Pairing: The Faculty- Casey/Zeke
Rating: R
Synopsis: Casey's skeered. Zeke likes.
Disclaimer: Don't own, got, or even own STOCK in 'The Faculty' or it's plots/characters.
Writ for the 'Something Happens/Both Perspectives' challenge in contrelamontre... started at 3:27
God, it's late. I'm waiting for the typical scenario of zombies or monsters or just plain old psycho-killers to jump outta the bushes nearby and kill both Zeke and I as he's trying to figure out why his car broke down. In the middle of nowhere. Someplace I don't recognize. With killers and monsters and lions hiding in the bushes. Oh my.
Yes. I am a paranoid fucker. I can't really help it; it's not everday you run into someone like MaryBeth, kill her along with a string of people connected to her, then go off and act like everything is normal. It wasn't so bad, but... damn, I have no CLUE as to how Zeke manages it.
He's hunched over the engine, half-smoked cigarette stuck in his lips, hands roaming over certain engine parts. Every now and again he'll grunt, sounding annoyed, and I'll ask "Can I help?" and he'll grunt what sounds like denial back at me. I was content to stand around and maybe even stroll a bit towards this small swamp next to us, but now I've started thinking about chainsaws and bloody knives-as-fingernails, I'm closer to Zeke with every thought. "You know..." I start to speak after awhile, wanting something else to be heard other than the deep moan of crickets and peepers and-fuck, was that an evil cackle in the distance..??? "That... I have an EXTREME fear of things like this?"
"Mmmhmm," Zeke mumbles back at me as he reaches further down into... well fuck if I know, it's a car.
"Remember that time at your place when we caught that late night horror flick?"
"Mmmhmm,"
"Yea. It's feeling like that again."
"You were ready to piss your pants, weren't you?" he says, leaning up to look at me with that 'I'm-So-Much-Cooler-Than-You' smile. It's infectious, making me give him a shaky grin back when maybe I should smack him for acting like a jerk.
"Pretty much." I admitted. Nothing like the truth. Zeke sighs and leans onto the opened end of the car. He tosses the finished cigarette onto the dirt road; I watch it bounce and leave sparks as he speaks.
"Look. I'd told you then that if flesh-eating zombies suddenly burst through the doors and windows that I'd fight 'em to the death. Right?"
"Uh huh."
"You're okay, Casey."
"Yea," I say; I'm still not so sure. "But they're pretty strong, y'now- and now, we're standing around with a broken down car on a street where no one goes and no houses or stores or ANY sign of life for miles-"
"Shit, you can ramble on and on," Zeke says, sounding amused as he returns to look at the car. I lean also, trying to relax, even if that crack of a twig that just sounded off didn't sound like it was made by a small animal.
"Zeke?"
"Mmmm?"
"If someone... something REALLY came down this way, you would so totally kill 'em, right?"
Zeke chuckles. "Case."
"Yes?" I reply, even if his saying my name was more statement than question.
"Look."
I turn my head, watch him lift his shirt past his jeans' waist; a glint of metal shines in the moonlight, making the gun look holy. I sigh, nodding. "Yea. Okay." I reply. He nods and returns to continue fixing the car. "Know what's wrong yet?"
"Yea. Just a problem with the anti-freeze hose or something. I can fix it."
"How long ya think?"
Zeke sighs deeply, and I look over again. His shirt is more resting on the gun than passing by it, leaving a rumpled looking mess of fabric over Zeke's hip. For a second I'm not thinking of demons and hell-beasts; I'm thinking of him lifting his shirt up all the way. Zeke's fucking hot. He was saying something though, um..."What?"
"I said, it might be a little while. I've gotta find a few patches in the trunk."
"Oh."
Zeke passes by me, smiling in this weird fashion. He's probably thinking about what a nuisance I am, or how I'm so fucking chicken. For someone who took down an alien queen, I'm pretty... wait. "Is there scat in your trunk?"
Now he's just laughing, popping the door open to search inside. "Yea. Why?"
"Can I hold onto some... just in case?" I ask. Zeke sighs again, coming back with a small toolbox and three pens of scat.
"Here. Go wild."
"I'm not gonna HAVE any, I just want it so if we get attacked-"
"Fuck Casey, just TAKE some and stop worrying. Some giggling might help you out right now."
Damn. He's right. I look at the pens in my hand, wondering what the newspaper headlines would look like: 'Herrington-Hero gets five year sentence: "I just wanted to giggle!'". Kee-rist.
"Will you do some with me... when you're done, Zeke?" I ask.
"Not if you want me to drive us home." he answers me. I groan, staring at a pen. Putting the two others in my pocket, I lift up the other to my face; like I'd never left it, really. White glows from inside, tiny sparkles of whatever 'household shit' glinting off slightly. I uncork it and in one swift move, snort it, hard and heavy straight into my brain- or FUCK, feels like it, anyways...
"Shhhhit..."
"Good?"
I have to blink a few hundred times to answer him. "S'all right..." I reply, leaning back onto the car. "Take yer time, Zeke. Sorry I'm being so dumb," I say. I see his smile throught the dark.
"Never a prob, Case,"
*****
My car ain't broken, Casey. Nothing wrong with it at all. I'm glad you don't know about cars, and how a REAL 'I can't start this thing' sounds. I've just needed the excuse.
You need to loosen up, boy. Get some air under those wings of yours and let yourself go. I hate it when you're too scared to move, even if it can get really fucking thrilling. I DID like the way you'd almost jump in my lap watching that cheesy zombie flick a few weeks ago; you'd gotten plastered to my side that night, clutching the blankets around us like they were armor against monsters instead of cloth. I just KNOW that you were one of those kids who threw a blanket over them when they thought someone was 'gonnea get them', that whole childish- yet wonderfully naive reaction within an unrealistic, non-existent situation. That's something I love about you.
Yea. I said love.
So here I am, pretending that the car's shit the bed because damn, Casey- you're so fucking hot when you're scared. Noticed it during our little amusement park ride with MaryBeth. Loved pressing you into those lockers, forcing scat on you. I was scared too, but that visual sticks in my mind to this day. Eyes wide and angry, defiant- but so scared. So fucking scared.
Got to give you SOME relief, showing you my gun. Saw that your eyes looked elsewhere; wasn't just my piece that got you off, eh? Naw. I read that journal of yours when you weren't looking.
"Zeke and a gun, it's too fucking hot for me to describe..."
But 'cha did, kid. It was a good read. Hope you wouldn't find me as some prying asshole for doing that; I was honestly looking for that book you said you'd lend me, and you were downstairs looking for that video game, so I took my chances. Glad I did.
I wanted to see all of this tonight, so I went through the motions. Saw that the road didn't look that travelled upon, no houses... nothing. Just a small field, the moon and SO many scary possibilities. There you are right this second, holding pens of scat. My heart leaps when I see you take one to your nose and get some of my special 'fairy dust' in you. Maybe I'll do some later when I take you to my house to fuck you blind.
Oh, yes. Yes, yes, Casey. While I've got you on your stomach, ass up in full presentation, I'm going to let you know all of this, just so I'm not seen as some liar, some dishonest prick. I've got the feeling that you won't mind one bit.
Afterwards, we can go downstairs and watch this AWESOME flick that's gonna play on Fox; something about teenagers getting chopped up, one by one, by this psycho killer. I think you might like that. I know I will.
Finished 4:11