(no subject)

[honeyandvinegar]

Title: Geek Out: Deeds
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: Light NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own! I also don't know everything when it comes to 'law', so try and bear with me.
Synopsis: After some 'discoveries', Zeke goes home, only to make a few of his own.

Previous Parts:
Central Force
Solar Radii
Magnification
Nebula
Pale Blue Dot
Orbital Path
Rosette
Moonlight
Interstellar
M57
Maria
The Uncertainty Principle
Black Hole
Rings
Gemini



It was the last day of the week of their Winter Break; one more weekend, and school began again. When Zeke woke, he knew it was late in the morning. It made sense after a night out. There’d been times in the past when he’d gone out to parties until very late, more for appearances than the need to socialize. After almost six months of seclusion, it’d been interesting to head out to a club. The difference between parties and last night was actual interest with people Zeke knew and liked… loved, really.

The only side effect now was ‘club-funk’, where Zeke could feel the dried sweat in his hair and the thick smell of cigarette smoke. He himself smoked, but this was different. He looked to the clock on the wall, saw that it was almost ten and shimmied off the couch bed. The house was quiet; Casey’s parents had left for work almost two hours ago. If one or both of them had showered, there would probably be enough hot water for Zeke to have one. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard the shower running, however. Apparently Casey had beaten him to it. Zeke thought back to the day that they’d shared one, safe and secure with the parents out at work. Wearing a sly grin, Zeke made his way into the hall, removing his clothes as he went. He got a bit of a thrill, walking around in his loose boxers out in the open, complete with family pictures hanging on the walls. He knocked on the door; no answer. Zeke sighed and opened it; he stuck his head in and looked across the room, seeing movement past the shower curtain. “Case?” he said.

“Oh! Geez, scared me,” Casey’s voice echoed.

“Sorry,” Zeke said. He dared to step in and shut the door behind him. A piss would come first, then he’d see if he could sneak under the water with the boy. He walked to the toilet and did his business, softly groaning in relief.

“You comin’ in?”

Zeke looked over his shoulder and found Casey, hair wet and dripping down his face to his bright grin. Smiling back, Zeke removed his boxers and joined him. “Did you just get in?” Zeke asked.

Casey shook his head. “No, been a bit. But there’s enough hot water to give you a good wash down.”

Once under the hot stream of water, Zeke allowed Casey to massage shampoo into his hair. His fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp, waking Zeke fully. He moaned and smiled. “S’good,” he mumbled, his obvious pleasure making Casey smile.

“I had fun last night,” Casey said. “It was nice of you to break down and dance with me.”

“Hah… didn’t expect you to stay out on the floor for like, the entire night. I could give you one song, at least. Thank god for Stokes and her energy, keeping up with you,” Zeke said.

“She’s so awesome now. I think Stan’s done her a lot of good,” Casey said. He blinked slowly, put his arms up onto Zeke’s shoulders and sighed. “You’ve been good for ME, I know that much.”

Zeke stroked Casey’s back and kissed him lightly. He could feel their cocks swell together, pressed close and dripping wet. “Y’know… I do owe you,” Zeke murmured in Casey’s ear.

“Oh?” Casey whispered back.

“Mmhmm…”

The last thing Zeke expected was a loud knocking on the door; it took him a moment to realize that a knock meant that some-one was there. “Oh…” Zeke uttered with his jaw dropping.

“Casey?”

“Oh m-my god, it’s my mom,” Casey said with growing panic. “It’s my fucking mother.”

“Casey, hello?” she called again. The door then opened a crack; while Zeke was sure the woman wouldn’t outright walk in to get a look, she could certainly hear better. Casey cleared his throat and closed his eyes.

“Um… yea?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I’m home. I couldn’t stop sniffling and coughing,” she replied. A pause followed, making Zeke feel the tension building in the room.

“’K--”

“Where’s Zeke?” Mrs. Connor said in a voice that sounded like she knew already.

Casey groaned in anguish and put his head against Zeke’s chest.

~*~

So far, all Mrs. Connor had said, over and over, was “I just…” Zeke stared at the table while she fixed up a mug of tea; she hadn’t looked at either one of them directly in the last tense fifteen minutes. He glanced to Casey, seeing that he’d made a pillow of his arms to lay his head upon. No one said a word as Mrs. Connor finally came away from the stove, pulled back a chair from the table and sat down. Zeke put his hand to his eyes and rubbed them slowly.

“I just…”

“You’ve said that,” Casey interrupted. “Just keep going.”

Mrs. Connor raised her eyebrows and looked at Casey over the rim of her mug. She put it down and let a few tittering coughs escape. She soon recovered and gave Casey a steely look. “Excuse me, Casey Daniel… but you won’t sass me like that,” she said.

Not knowing what to say or do, Zeke stared ahead at the wall behind Casey, studying the colorful painting of fruit hanging there. This did not bode well.

“I expect that… some things might happen under our noses. There’s nothing we can do about that, really. It’s just that… oh, I don’t know,” Mrs. Connor said. She then grimaced and sneezed, which made Zeke jump a little. She groaned and grabbed a tissue from the box in front of her, blew her nose then grunted. “My head is so clogged up already.”

“So am I grounded?” Casey asked.

“Casey, I don’t know. I don’t know what to think about this. It’s never happened before,” the woman replied. She then looked to Zeke, seemingly having a hard time keeping her eyes open. “I don’t know about either of you. I think I’ll just head upstairs and sleep on it. God, I feel like shit.”

Even with the unbearable feeling of caught going on, Zeke had to grin at the swear crossing her lips; he was surprised to hear Casey snort, amused as well. He looked to her and half-smiled. “Hope you feel better, Mom.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, finished off her tea then shuffled to the stairs.

Both boys waited for her footsteps to fade away and the sound of the bedroom door closing upstairs. Zeke smacked his lips. “Maybe I should just suck it up and go home,” he said.

“Huh?” Casey said. At Zeke’s shrug, the boy shook his head. “But… my mom didn’t kick you out or anything, and I don’t think she will.”

“You think I wanna be here when your dad gets home? Fuck. Right. I’m thinking that I should run off the Canada and wait for the storm to pass,” Zeke replied. “He’s gonna be pissed.”

“He has no right to be. Back in his high school days, he was super-popular and had a few hundred girlfriends before my mom. He’d always tell me that I’d eventually get a girl, if his genes had anything to do with it. He totally got some in high school,” Casey explained.

“Yea, and that’s totally gonna matter when it comes to his own spawn and another guy. C’mon, Case…” Zeke said. He drummed his fingers on the table, then sighed as he looked up at Casey. “Wanna go out for breakfast?”

Casey shrugged. “Sure. Anything to get outta here,” he said.

~*~

It was funny how Casey could make Zeke feel, doing the simplest things. When he smiled, Zeke had to do the same; if Casey was angry, it either made Zeke grin or take him into a hug. At the moment, however, Casey was sitting on his side of the booth at Bickford’s, picking at his meal. Zeke was three-quarters of the way done with his eggs, bacon and toast, while Casey’s bacon had gone untouched and his pancakes only had a small dent in them. This made Zeke’s heart feel heavy. “Case, it’s gonna be okay. If I have to leave the country, I’ll write you every day,” Zeke tried to joke--anything to lighten the mood. “So eat up. I paid good money for that breakfast--more than mine.”

“Way to lay on the guilt,” Casey replied.

“Casey… god’s sake,” Zeke said.

Casey pursed his lips and cut another bite of pancake from the stack. He chewed it slowly while staring at his plate. “I’ll eat it. Sorry.”

“It’s okay… just try to lighten up, this isn’t the end of the world,” Zeke said. “’Could be worse; if MY dad found us like that… Christ.”

“Yea,” Casey said, now looking up to let his eyes travel over Zeke’s face. “The bruising is almost gone.”

“He didn’t punch me out or anything. It’s been worse.”

“I don’t get how you can be so nonchalant about it,” Casey replied.

“What am I supposed to do?” Zeke asked as he mopped up leftover egg yolk with his last piece of toast. “I’ve never been someone that sits around crying about things I can’t change. My dad’s gonna be a prick and mom’s an addict--nothing I can do about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep sayin’ that like it’s your fault, and it ain’t,” Zeke said, then made a pensive expression. “Why DO people say they’re sorry, when they have nothing to do with what they’re saying it for?”

“It’s just something people do, and it doesn’t need explaining.” Casey took another bite, bigger than the last. A pause followed, where he chewed away. When he finished swallowing he shrugged. “Anyway… maybe my dad’ll shrug it off. Never know.”

“Yea,” Zeke replied. “But I think I will go home. I can’t run away from that bastard forever.”

Casey poked his pancakes with his fork, looking sad again. “I don’t want you to,” he said.

“Well, think of it this way…” Zeke leaned in with a devious smile and lowered his voice to say, “No parents’ll be around to catch us when we’re at my place.”

Casey finally smiled and blushed. “After today, I might get a chastity belt.”

“Hah. I’m a master lock-picker,” Zeke said and winked.

~*~

After getting his things from Casey’s house, Zeke had made his goodbyes through whispers and kisses. It had taken a lot to pry Casey away from him, but he managed to, though he hated doing it. He’d told Casey to give his thanks for letting him stay, and Casey promised that he’d let him know if things didn’t go down well with Mr. Connor and to avoid calling for a few days… or weeks, however long. But he’d made an offer to Zeke: “If he hits you, tell me and I’ll come kick his ass.” Zeke had chuckled at Casey’s serious expression, gave him one last kiss and left.

Zeke pulled into his drive and flared his nostrils. Jack’s car sat there, its New York plates gleaming in the bright sunlight. ‘Get out of Ohio, already,’ Zeke thought as he got out of the GTO. He went up the porch steps, opened the front door and stepped in. He rubbed his feet on the doormat before walking into the hall. Sure enough, his father was sitting on the couch in the living room, talking loudly on his cell phone.

“Yes, she’s allergic to latex--is she seriously unable to tell you all of this?” the man was saying. He then glanced up towards Zeke, cocked an eyebrow and turned back to his conversation. “It should have been in her file. If it gets serious, I’ll get serious. I didn’t fight tooth and nail in court to have her body swell up.”

“What’s going on?” Zeke said with concern. The memory of his mother needing a hospital visit after handling balloons at Zeke’s eighth birthday party snapped into his head. “Dad?”

Mr. Tyler held up a hand to shush him, then groaned into the phone. “Just keep me posted. And read her damned file.” He gave a curt “Goodbye,” then hung up. He looked to Zeke and shook his head. “Your mother--she’s all right. She had a small ear infection, and the idiot doctor used latex gloves. God…”

“But she’s okay?” Zeke asked. Mr. Tyler nodded, and Zeke sighed in relief; with the concern passed, he got a good look at his father and frowned. “What's up with your hair?”

Mr. Tyler shook his head. “Never mind that. Anyway. She’s been blubbering in total joy over you visiting, you know,” Mr. Tyler said. He bent over the coffee table that held a small stack of paperwork. “I say to make that a common practice. She’ll get a lot better having you around.”

Zeke walked into the room, put his bag on the floor and sat in the armchair across from the couch. He scrutinized the man, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “Yea, it was good to see her,” he said. “You were right to tell me to go.”

“Hmm. Rare of you to concede to me,” Mr. Tyler said in an absent tone while flipping through some pages, scribbling on a few as he went. “I AM right sometimes, I guess.”

“Sometimes, yea,” Zeke replied. This could go any-which way; his father could become a braggart over Zeke’s small giving-in, pissing Zeke off and starting a ridiculous, useless fight. If Zeke let it go, perhaps his mother would be brought up in a bad light, or he’d have to defend his choice in partners--whatever else that would continue to rile him. Determined to not let it get to him, Zeke closed his eyes and tried to relax.

“Are you home now?” Mr. Tyler asked.

“Yea.”

“You weren’t kicked out of that boy’s house, were you?”

Zeke squeezed his eyes tight for a moment. “No; they actually like me, a lot.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Tyler replied again. “So, I had a look at Ohio State’s website.”

“Oh yea?” Zeke mumbled.

“You do know that you have to have a three-point-eight grade average to get accepted, correct?”

This made Zeke go still. He opened his eyes in slits and frowned. “I… didn’t see that.”

“You should do your research, because--and this isn’t to rag on you--I highly doubt that you’d make that,” Mr. Tyler said; his expression was softer than it usually was when he looked at Zeke. “I know you said that you’ve improved, and that you’re really into science and such. But I think you’d be deluding yourself in applying to that school.”

“But… they sometimes compare shit, how you do in one term to the next. Even if I stayed back, they could SEE that I’ve bust my ass to do better,” Zeke said.

“What would be a better idea is applying to a community college and work your way up. You don’t want to do law, like I suggested? Fine. But don’t get your hopes up when it comes to a career in astrophysics. It might be a nice hobby, but--”

“What the hell, you make it sound like I’m scrapbooking or knitting,” Zeke interrupted. “This isn’t a phase, it’s my life, and I can find a way to DO it.”

Mr. Tyler gave Zeke a bored expression. “Ezekiel. Honestly.”

“Honestly what?”

“Just because you read some of my old textbooks and have a telescope, it isn’t going to get you into college--”

He’d done it; Zeke couldn’t close his eyes and breathe away the stress anymore. He found himself standing up and stalking into the kitchen, unable to listen to his father’s put-downs. It was one thing to give advice, or even suggest something on a smaller scale… but to completely dismiss Zeke’s interests as frivolous-nothings had Zeke trembling with anger. He managed to light a cigarette while staring out into the backyard through the kitchen window.

Footsteps came from behind. “You love acting like an impetuous child, don’t you?”

“Leave me alone,” Zeke said through gritted teeth. “Please, I’m begging you, okay? Just go away.”

“Has that boy put ideas in your head, Zeke? Because it’s not fair if he did,” Mr. Tyler said.

“This never helps me. Get it through your head, you’re not helping me! You just bark advice and act high and mighty… and…” Zeke said. Taking advantage of one of his father’s rare silences, he finally turned around to face him. “You’re right. I AM fucked up. And why the hell is that, huh? Why is Casey going to MIT and I’m not? Because you’re a shitty father.”

“Oh, honestly. Not many are going to sympathize with someone who constantly blames their mistakes and problems on not having the perfect family life,” Mr. Tyler replied.

“Wha… ‘not having the perfect family’? How about ANY family, Jack?”

“This discussion is over,” Mr. Tyler abruptly said, then turned to the fridge and dug out a beer.

“Not goin’ your way, huh? Wow, now you know how I’ve felt for over two years since you took off,” Zeke replied. With the way his father was closing the fridge and walking off, Zeke knew he wasn’t listening. It was pointless to pursue this; instead of following the man, Zeke grabbed his own beer then sat down at the kitchen table. His brain swam with indecision, confusion and doubt. Even if his father was being the usual bastard that he ALWAYS was…

Three-point-eight. Zeke pressed his palm against his mouth and propped his elbow up, thinking hard. Three-point-eight. ‘Where else can I go?’ he thought. Scanning the options made him feel sick. Community colleges would take him, no doubt, but that wouldn’t be enough. Even if he could get into a better school after acing a two-year program, he’d have to put up with those two years. He’d stagnate; high school had been boring to him, and he was sure that he’d get bored at a place like Herrington Community. He’d fail, never get into a better college and end up working at a fast-food joint. This fatalist thinking had tears form in his eyes.

‘It’s all your fault,’ he thought further. There was no way out of this. He’d backed himself into a corner, leaving him a second-time senior with nowhere to go. Zeke slugged back the last half of his beer in two gulps, then went for another. After that drink went down in mere moments, Zeke smiled. ‘Beer never does it for me,’ he told himself while making his way to the living room. He passed in front of the TV, which played CNN. Zeke ignored Mr. Tyler’s cocked eyebrow as he opened the liquor cabinet.

“Boozing it up?” Mr. Tyler asked.

“Yup. My house, my rules,” Zeke replied. His father sniffed and rolled his eyes, but Zeke didn’t care. The Bombay Sapphire would go down well enough; nodding to himself, Zeke brought out a tumbler from the cabinet in the adjoining dining room and poured away.

“It’s not your house,” Mr. Tyler said.

“May as well be. ‘Been paid for years now, right? And I’ve been the only one here during that time, sooo…” Zeke took the drink down as fast as the beers had gone and savored the burn going down his throat. More… he poured another drink, turned to his father, raised his glass and winked. “I’d say I win by default.”

“Well, when you’re done with school, we’re thinking about selling the house.”

Zeke stilled. “Um… what?”

Mr. Tyler lowered the volume on the TV and looked to his son. “You’ll have your trust fund at twenty-one. By that time, you’ll be starting your second year at college--whichever one you end up at--and you can support yourself with a job until then. If you go to a community school, I’ll gladly help you with an apartment for a while, but I’d expect you to pull your own weight until the fund matures--”

“No, wait, stop,” Zeke said, flustered beyond belief. Having a few drinks in him wasn’t helping his state of mind. “Why would you DO that? This is where I live, you can’t just rip it out from under me!”

“Your mother is not going to come back. She’ll probably be in rehab for years, then a halfway house… with the way she is. Me, I’m practically across the country. And with you going to school, well…” Mr. Tyler sighed and slapped his thighs. “This place will be a ghost-house. It’d be stupid to pay taxes and other bills to maintain it.”

“But I wasn’t planning on a dorm! Ohio State isn’t far from here!” Zeke said. “An hour and a half drive tops, that’s it… I’m willing to DO that. I don’t want a dorm.”

“You’d have the money for it…?”

“I don’t care! Dad, please…” Zeke said. He stumbled on his way to the armchair, needing to grab the armrest before sitting down. The alcohol was seeping its way into his head a mile a minute. He managed to sit down and look at Mr. Tyler with bleary eyes. “Do you get a kick outta this? For real, do you?”

“This is a practical decision, Ezekiel. I would make sure that you’re set for room and board, either at school or your own apartment. All I’d ask is that you get a job and support yourself halfway. There’s nothing unreasonable about that.”

“But… this is my home. I don’t care if I’ve had a shit time of it. This is all I know,” Zeke said. He knew that he was about to cry, and with the alcohol in his system, it’d be hard to hold it back. His lower lip shook as he let an equally shaky breath escape. “Why do you hate me so fucking much?”

“Christ, Ezekiel… I don’t hate you,” Mr. Tyler replied with a groan.

“You don’t love me. You make that abundantly goddamned clear.”

The man looked at Zeke with a hard stare. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“So SAY it! Say, ‘I really do love you, son--I really, really do.’ Go on, I’m waiting!”

“You’re getting dramatic again.”

“SAY it!”

“EZEKIEL!” Mr. Tyler bellowed back; Zeke jumped a little. His father stood up and brushed his legs as if there was dust and dirt all over them. “You’re drunk. You’re getting ridiculous. Believe me, you will be taken care of, all right? I’ll make sure of it.”

Zeke curled up into his seat and turned away. He put the empty glass on the small table next to him and held himself with his arms. Mr. Tyler sighed again and left the room; Zeke drifted off to the sounds of his father loading the dishwasher.

~*~

“Ezekiel?”

“Un…”

“Ezekiel, wake up,” Mr. Tyler said a little more forcefully. Zeke cringed and forced his eyes open--fuck, he was hurting.

“I… dreaming about, just…”

“Phone for you.”

Zeke finally focused on his father, who stood in front of him holding the phone out. When his legs uncurled, his stomach lurched violently. “Oh my god,” Zeke said, stood and rushed past his father to the bathroom. It didn’t matter who was on the phone, as he needed to get to the toilet as quickly as he could. He managed to make it in time; throwing the lid open, he dropped to his knees and emptied his stomach in violent jolts. It’d been too long since he’d had more than one or two beers, and it showed.

When he was finally down to an acrid spit, his father appeared at the doorway, watching him with a blank expression on his face. “Yes, he’s fine,” he said into the phone. Zeke flushed the toilet and sat there a moment before getting up on wobbly legs to go to the sink. He didn’t bother with a glass, choosing to cup water in his hand and suck it back. His head throbbed, his stomach ached, his limbs were sore… “Ezekiel. Phone.”

Zeke looked at the man through half-lidded eyes. The phone was held out to him once again; he took it this time. “’Lo?”

“Zeke, what the hell is going on??”

Casey… great. “Just feelin’ sick.”

“You dad said that you had too much to drink.”

Zeke glared at his father’s retreating form. “A little, yea.”

“I heard you getting sick--Zeke, what’s going--”

“DROP it, Casey,” Zeke snapped. He regretted it instantly; hissing, he moved to sit back down on the toilet. “Look… just a bit stressed.”

“What did he do--your father, meaning?” Casey asked.

“Nothing. He just… there’re things going on and I ain’t too happy about it. So, you called. What’s going on?”

There was a pause, followed by a sad sigh. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay… and to let you know that… my mom, she didn’t say anything.”

“About what?” Zeke mumbled in question.

“To my dad, about what happened with us,” Casey murmured. “I expected her to tell him, but she didn’t. She told me a little bit ago that she wasn’t going to let him know--but to know that SHE knew. Y’know.”

The way Casey spoke was head-spinning. “Fine. Sounds good,” Zeke said.

“So yea, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Well…” Casey drifted off, then chuckled. “You seemed worried about my dad at breakfast. Just thought I’d put your mind at ease.”

“Yea. Well. The last thing my mind is at is ‘ease’. I got a bit more on my plate at the moment. Worrying about your dad is at the bottom of my list.”

He must have sounded annoyed enough to warrant another silence on Casey’s end. “Zeke… what’s going on?” Casey asked in a soft, hurt-sounding voice.

“You wouldn’t fucking understand. I gotta go, ‘k? I need to take a few hundred Advil or something.” Zeke took a deep breath; god, he sounded like a total asshole, didn’t he? Before he could apologize for it, he heard the line go dead. The crackling, empty sound of the phone made Zeke frown. “Um… hello?”

Nothing. Zeke took the phone from his ear and clicked it off.

~*~

New Horizon’s lobby was just as Zeke remembered it from years before. It felt safe and warm, with pretty décor lining the walls and many shelves. Loads of books surrounded Zeke as well--real books, most of them volumes of poetry and biographies. The plush couch Zeke sat upon, waiting for his mother to come out almost had him fall asleep. After a few hours of recovery the night before, Zeke had downed a few pills of Tylenol PMs to make sure he got extra sleep, and when he’d woken, his head was clearer and he felt the urge to come here. Perhaps coming to his mother for help wasn’t the best idea, considering her current state. Still, she’d probably be lucid enough to help him… a little.

He was just about to grab Shakespeare’s Sonnets off the shelves when he saw Mrs. Tyler emerge from the nearby double doors. The smile on her face was wide and bright. “Zeke,” she said.

Zeke stood just in time for her to take him up into a hard, tight hug. He returned it wholeheartedly. “Hey, Mom,” he said into her shoulder.

“So glad you came to visit, so soon,” she replied.

He couldn’t help from feeling guilty; after all, he wasn’t here just to see her. He was visiting, of course, but… “How you doin’?” he asked.

“Oh, good. Good. I got through the shakes and everything at the hospital. Still a bit sick, but--y’know, it just comes with the territory,” she said as she pulled away. She took his hand and beamed. “You’re actually just in time for lunch! They have some really good food here, if you’ll believe it. Better than the hospital’s, anyway. I asked if you can join me, and we can eat it on the deck outside. It’s another gorgeous day, isn’t it?”

“Yea,” he said, trying to keep up with the rambling. “Warm out.”

“Mmhmm. Come on then, let’s go to the commissary and get something to eat!”

Though he wasn’t anywhere near hungry, he followed her to the kitchens. He supposed they normally delivered meals to the rooms, but could arrange something ‘special’ every now and again. He was glad that he called ahead.

With trays full of southern-fried chicken, fries, mixed vegetables, cornbread muffins, and mugs of coffee, they made their way to the main deck to eat. The scenery here was gorgeous; large gardens and a pond full of goldfish decorated the acres of land past the landing. A group of women and an orderly lined the pond, throwing bits of food into the water. Things seemed so calm and healthy here, reassuring Zeke that his mother could get better--much better, being here.

“Oh, this is good,” Mrs. Tyler said after taking a bite of her chicken. After picking a bit at the food, Zeke decided to eat along with her.

“Hmm… yea, not bad.”

“You should’ve seen this fish-dish at the hospital. Oh, good god.” The woman chuckled and shook her head.

“I can imagine,” Zeke replied. He glanced up, noticing the small rash just under her ear on her neck. “Are you feeling okay? Dad said that some idiot rubbed latex all over your ear.”

“Oh pfft, I was fine. Just got a bit swollen, but after an allergy-shot, I was okay. I just have a little rash now, that’s all,” she replied. “I think your father got a little dramatic with the doctors. They seemed shaken after talking to him, but I told them I was okay.”

“Good.”

“Did you go back home? He said you’d been gone for the whole week.”

“Yea. I…” Zeke said. With his chicken only half-gone, he sat back and stared at his plate. He decided that this was a good enough ‘lead-in’. “He said that you guys are gonna sell the house.”

Mrs. Tyler stared blankly at Zeke a few moments. “Um… ‘you guys’? Like, he said we were going to sell it?”

“Yea,” he said; he was then surprised by his mother chuckling. “What?”

“Jesus. There is no ‘we’ in this. I never told him that I wanted to sell the house.”

“Well, he’s got his heart set on it, so it fucking seems. I told him that I didn’t want him to, but he just went on and on about me getting a dorm or apartment when I go off to school.”

“Oh, bullshit. If you don’t want to move, you won’t, and that’s that,” Mrs. Tyler said with finality. She took a hearty forkful of vegetables and grimaced. “Christ, this has lima beans. Didn’t see that…”

“You can’t be so sure of that, Mom. You know how Dad is.”

“Oh, I can be sure. There’s no way he can sell it, not without my authority.”

Zeke blinked hard. “Uh… what?”

“It’s my house, Zekie. He never put his name on it. Me being in rehab or no, he can’t just sell the thing. That’s your great-grandparents house, on MY side of the family. It was given to my grandmother when they died, but she already had a house; so when me and your father got married, she gave it to us as a wedding present,” Mrs. Tyler explained.

“But…” Zeke said, feeling his body go numb at this news. “He said that he… he wasn’t gonna support the house and shit with you gone, him in New York… stuff.”

“You wanna stay in it, right?”

“Well, yea…”

“So you will. I’m not going to make you homeless,” she said. While sipping some coffee, she stared out over the yard with a pensive expression. “He’s right in some respects. We’re not there with you.”

“Yea, it’s kinda useless. Maybe I should just move out.”

“Do you want it?”

The question made Zeke frown. “Want… what?”

“The house,” she said. “I mean, I may as well give it to you. All I’d have to do is get Jack to come here with the papers and sign it over to you.”

“Um--right. Like he’d DO that,” Zeke said with a scoff.

“He’d have to. He’s not my husband anymore, but he’s still my lawyer. I pay him, for god’s sake. He takes it without any qualms, too--greedy bastard.”

Zeke’s heart was racing a mile a minute. The house--in his name? “I’d… my trust fund from grandma matures when I’m twenty-one. I could buy it with that, I suppose.”

“Um, Zeke?” she said. With a soft, sad smile, she went on. “You’re my son--and I haven’t been there when I should’ve been. This is the least I could do to make up for some of that, so you won’t be giving me a dime. The house is yours, and Jack won’t be saying a damned thing about it.”

“I…” Zeke said, stunned and feeling a rush of relief washing over him. A smile shook on his face. “Mom, are you seriously sure?”

“Mmhmm.”

“But--Christ, you KNOW him, he’ll try to say that you’re not in a state of mind to--”

“Then I’ll have my psychologist to say I’m fine. She’s already said that I’m not insane or anything, just a bit ‘under the weather’ when it comes to addiction,” Mrs. Tyler said. “In fact… I’m allowed to call my lawyer and have him come down here whenever I need him to help me with anything financial. Why don’t we give him a call?”

~*~

Zeke looked to the opened door of the meeting room that he, his mother and Dr. Arroway sat in. “He’s gonna be pissed,” he said.

“Good,” Mrs. Tyler said while stirring more sugar into her tea.

“But--”

“All right, why am I--” Mr. Tyler said upon his arrival, but he paused when he set eyes on Zeke. “Here?” he finished.

“Did you bring everything I’d asked for?” Mrs. Tyler asked.

Mr. Tyler narrowed his eyes and put his briefcase on the table. “Yes.”

“Good, good. Let me have it, please,” Mrs. Tyler said.

Mr. Tyler scoffed while drumming his fingers on the case. “I’d have to say that you’re not in the right state of mind to make such a financial faux pas,” he said, darting his eyes to Zeke to give him a hard look. He turned back to his ex-wife and sighed. “As your lawyer, it would be unwise for me to allow this.”

“If I may interject,” Dr. Arroway said. “I’ve been working with Victoria since she was last here, and I can say that she’s coherent and wise enough to make this decision. She’s had problems with addiction, not mental illness.”

“Oh, is that why she’s on at least three or four mixes of antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds? Vicky…” Mr. Tyler said, turning his attention to her. “You’re not well.”

“I’m well enough, Jack. Now if you’ll please hand me the documents to my house.”

“Vicky, enough--”

“If I may say again, Mr. Tyler… the house is her property, and as her lawyer, she pays you to do what she wishes. There is no order whatsoever forbidding her to make these decisions,” Dr. Arroway said.

It went quiet between them all for a moment, with Mr. Tyler looking from one face to the other. He finally opened the case, reached in and grabbed up a small stack of papers. Zeke bit his lip at the sight of the deed to the house.

“Thank you, Jack,” Mrs. Tyler said with a ridiculously-sweet smile.

“How much are you selling it for?” Mr. Tyler asked.

“He’s my son, so nothing,” the woman answered while rooting through the documents.

“Oh? Well then, he’ll have to pay a gift-tax. When he goes to City Hall to finalize--”

Mrs. Tyler rolled her eyes and looked to Zeke. “Honey, do you have a five?”

“A bill? Um, yea,” Zeke said. He took his wallet from his pocket and looked inside. “I have… a ten…?”

“All right, a ten then,” Mrs. Tyler said. After he handed it to her, she held it up for her ex-husband to see. “Ten dollars. That’s how much I’m selling it for. Where do I write that down?”

The man sniffed hard, leaned forward and pointed to a document. “There, at the bottom.”

This went on for almost fifteen minutes, with Zeke following instructions at each step of the process. He couldn’t help but notice Dr. Arroway’s smile, or the painful-looking thin-lipped expression his father wore through it all. Once finished, Mrs. Tyler handed off the papers to the man and sat back to let him look through them.

“Hmm. Seems to be in order,” he said in an overly-professional voice. He then handed Zeke the deed and flared his nostrils. “It’s all yours, Ezekiel.”

Zeke smiled and took it from the man. “Thanks, Jack.”

Another discussion followed, where Zeke was given directions on what he had to do to finalize the deal. Once through with that, they all signed extra papers, Dr. Arroway serving as a witness to the transaction. She then went to make many copies of each form in the office across the hall. She returned and handed them out to each of them. “All right,” Mr. Tyler said while gathering his things. “Congratulations, Ezekiel. You got your way at last.”

“Yup,” Zeke said. The man could barely hide his scowl as he stood and went to the door. “Oh! And Jack?”

The man groaned and turned back to face him. “Hmm?”

“Get out of my house,” Zeke said, waving the deed at him.

~*~

Zeke opened the back door leading out to Stokely’s backyard; he found Casey pointing things out in the sky. Stokely ‘ahhed’ and looked to him with a smile.

“Maybe next weekend, we can go star-hunting or something. We did the club… so it’ll be your turn to pick what we do,” Zeke heard Stokely say.

“Yea, well… who knows what me and Zeke will be doing by then,” Casey sadly replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, come on, Case. Things’ll be fine,” she said.

“Hey,” Zeke said; the interruption had Casey and Stokely turn sharply to face him.

“Oh…” Stokely uttered. She looked between the boys. “Hi--Zeke.”

Zeke walked over. “Hey Stokes,” he said. Feeling nervous, he approached Casey. “Hey Case.”

The boy looked away from him to stare at the sky. “Hi.”

“I’m gonna… go inside,” Stokely haltingly said, pointing to the house as she made her ‘escape’. Once the screen door closed behind her, Zeke scuffed his shoe over a spot of dirt in the lawn.

“I went to your house… they said that you came here to hang out.”

“Mmhmm,” Casey said.

“I assume that it was because I acted like an asshole to you.”

Casey pursed his lips and made a long, shaky sniff. He finally turned to Zeke and narrowed his eyes. “I ‘wouldn’t fucking understand’. Like I don’t know the shit that you’ve been going through. Like I haven’t been there for you.”

“I know…”

“And you weren’t acting like an asshole. You WERE an asshole, and lucky for me, Stokes was around to let me babble in her ear about it,” Casey said. “I guess she understood, cos’ she and Stan had an argument today, too. So we both got to bitch.”

“’K,” Zeke mumbled in reply. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the ground. “Casey, I’m sorry. I never get drunk, but my dad messed me up. BIG time.”

A silence came between them, until Casey folded his arms and softened his expression. “What happened?”

“The usual. He acted like a dick, got me riled up--”

“Did he hit you?”

Zeke looked up and shook his head. “No. But he told me how they were planning on selling the house.”

“Wait… what? Sell the house?” Casey asked. When Zeke nodded, the boy spluttered. “But he can’t DO that! That’s not fair--”

“Casey, Casey--chill,” Zeke said with a chuckle. “I got it straightened out. There’s no way he could’ve done it, cos’ my mom is the sole owner of it. I’d gone to visit her to see what she could do to stop it, and she just laughed and said ‘it’s yours’.”

“What, the house?”

“Yea.”

“You’re… actually gonna own the house?”

Zeke smiled wide. “Not ‘gonna’, I do. She got Jack the Jackass to come down with all the paperwork and we signed it. I gave my mom ten bucks and she gave me the deed.”

“I…” Casey mumbled. “So it’s yours? The house?”

“Yes, Casey. Yes,” Zeke said. He dared to move closer; Casey let him, still wearing a look of bewilderment. Zeke brought his hands to Casey’s face to lift it a little, making their eyes meet. “I’m sorry I said that shit to you, babe. I really am.”

Casey bit his lip and furrowed his brow. “I got so scared.”

“Of what?”

“I… never believed your dad, but he told me all this stupid shit, when we went to your house to get your stuff. Like, things… like you were gonna turn into this bastard that he ‘knew you were’ or whatever, and hurt me,” Casey said. “I didn’t believe him, of course--but when you got that way on the phone, I kept thinking… I dunno.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you right now,” Zeke said. He brushed Casey’s cheek with his thumb. “I hate my dad, cos’ he brings out the worst in me. He told you that shit because it’s true--with him. He’s always been the root cause of my being fucked up, so yea, I get insane around him. But I told him before he left today to get the hell out of the house--MY house, and I highly fuckin’ doubt he’s gonna come back. He still has to give me money and shit, but I’ll be set when I turn twenty-one.”

“Why twenty-one?” Casey asked.

“Trust fund--my grandma set me up with one when I was a kid. My mom came from money… kinda explains why she could get all drugged-up,” Zeke said.

“Jesus. Why do I not KNOW this stuff??” Casey asked. “How much is it?”

“Christ, I can’t remember. It’s big,” Zeke said. Wanting to get on with it, he put their foreheads together. “So just be clear, it’s nothing to do with you… and things’ll be better now. He’ll probably be gone tonight, but maybe I’ll give him ‘til morning.”

Casey nodded slowly. “So… it’s your house.”

“Uh huh. I can do whatever I want… not that I couldn’t before, but still,” Zeke replied with a grin. It drifted from his lips, however, all to give Casey a soft kiss. “I’m sorry, babe. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The weight lifted off of Zeke’s shoulders and he leaned in for another kiss. Casey melted into it then pushed back, their mouths hot against each other.

“You guys o--OH. Sorry.”

Zeke pulled away with a sigh and looked to Stokely, who stood half on the porch, half on the front step. “Poor timing, girl.”

“Have you stopped being a miserable, fucking dickweed, Zeke?” she asked.

“Yea, he has,” Casey answered for him. He finally smiled a cocky grin and raised an eyebrow Zeke’s way. “But he’s still gonna take me out to dinner as a ‘make-up’ gift. Aren’t you, toots?”

Zeke snorted, and Stokely sighed. “Good. He’d better convince Stan to do the same. What is this, ‘Asshole-Boyfriend Day’? Christ…”

~*~