Blue Raspberry #10, Licorice #8
Author: winebabe
Title: Our Cocoon
Story: The Gemini Occurrence ( Poverty Club 'Verse)
Rating: R (gratuitous swearing, various other inappropriate language, mentions of sex)
Flavor(s): Blue Raspberry #10: in bad taste; Licorice #8: the old man is snoring
Word Count: 1,666
Summary: October 2020. Before Mona wakes up that morning, Vic and Casey have some business to attend to.
Notes: Takes place during Rum & Coke. Casey Calhoun/Victor Eastman.
"Are you gonna sleep with me?" Vic asks, reaching out to tug on Casey's wrist.
Casey rolls his eyes, slowly and without much effort, and tells him, "What do you think?"
Vic is sloppy-drunk, stumbling all over himself, his blue eyes wide and too full of emotion. Casey, ever-stoic, wobbles on his feet but manages to look completely apathetic. The only hint that he's drunk is the flush across his cheeks and nose. They're wavering just outside Vic's bedroom door, hesitant, waiting for the right moment to slip in. Gina's been out for half an hour, at least, but Mona was up the last time they checked, and it's bad enough trying to slip off when Gina's around. She's their best friend and they worry about her finding out. Having a stranger in the house is even worse.
Casey reaches out to lightly push against Vic's chest. "Just go in your room," he mutters, dipping his head. "'m tired. Nobody'll think anything, Vic."
"Yeah," Vic says, nodding. "Okay." He pushes his bedroom door open and shuffles inside, still holding onto Casey’s wrist with his one hand. They shut the door behind them, and as tired as he may be, Vic can’t keep his hands off Casey. He pulls him close, running his palms up Casey’s sides, over his chest, up his neck until he’s cupping Casey’s face in both hands, staring at him reverently in the darkness.
“You’re so gay,” Casey whispers, and when he lurches forward to kiss him, Vic laughs against his lips.
Vic runs his fingers through Casey’s soft strawberry blond hair, combing back the pieces that always seem to flop into his eyes. “Just for you,” he says.
Casey snorts. “Yeah fuckin’ right.” Vic’s hands are still in his hair, and Casey grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him in for another, more passionate, kiss. For someone usually so careless and oblivious to the social norms for hygiene, Vic is a clean, focused kisser. Casey thinks Vic might even be better at it than he is when he pulls away to nip at Casey’s neck with gentle love bites.
“Just for you,” Vic insists with his mouth against Casey’s pulse, his breath hot against the exposed skin of his neck, chilled from hours inside Vic’s drafty house. “It’s getting late. My dad’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah,” Casey says, struggling to keep his voice even, “so?”
“I want you,” Vic breathes, and there’s only a split second of calm between them before they’re both tugging the shirts over their heads and undoing their jeans. It’s quiet in the house--Ruby’s at work, Clarence is somewhere getting piss-drunk, and Isaac is wherever the brat goes when he doesn’t want to be home--and every breath between them, every creaking floorboard sounds loud enough to wake every last house in The Ditch. Vic looks starry-eyed when Casey takes the time to glance down at him, and he smiles fondly and pushes Vic down onto the bed.
“Don’t give me that sappy look already,” Casey warns. “I haven’t even put it in you yet.”
“You’re so romantic,” Vic teases, laughing breathlessly.
“You don’t want romantic,” he argues, the both of them stripped down to their boxers and shivering in the cold air. “We don’t do romance.”
Vic blinks at him, looking vulnerable with his tired, light eyes, flat on the bed with his arms at his sides. “Maybe we should.”
“You wanna take me out?” Casey climbs onto the bed, straddling Vic, his knees at each of Vic’s elbows. “You wanna go on a date?”
“Maybe,” he replies and shrugs as much as he can in his position. “You don’t ever think about doing stuff like that?”
“No, I don’t.” Casey’s voice has gone cold, and he looks at Vic with an expression somewhere between confusion and disgust. “I know you don’t care what people think of you, but my parents--”
“Your parents can go fuck themselves!” Vic shouts, struggling underneath Casey. “Your mom wouldn’t care, because she loves you so goddamn much, and your dad’s an asshole because all dads are assholes, and you don’t see me worrying about Ruby walking in and--”
“That’s because Ruby would just flip us a condom and give us fucking cigarettes to smoke after!” Casey interrupts. He moves one leg so Vic can sit up, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “You wanna risk everything just so we can go fucking hold hands over dinner at Panera some night?”
Vic crosses his arms over his chest and scowls down at the floor. “I don’t want to risk anything. I just want this to be normal, alright? I think we deserve that much.”
“Fuck, Vic,” Casey sighs. He glances over at him through his bangs, disappointed by the way Vic’s lower lip is puffed out, how he won’t look up from the floor. Drinking always makes Vic more expressive, more willing to show--or at least less able to hide--his emotions, and Casey doesn’t know how to handle him. Not with the sad emotions.
“I bet we look really fucking stupid,” Vic grumbles, “sitting here in our underwear, arguing. Like incontinent old men.”
“What?” Casey asks, shaking his head. “That’s not the word, dude. I think you mean impotent.”
“Is that the word that means we’re supposed to be having sex but instead we’re fighting like pussies?”
Casey laughs and hooks an arm around Vic’s neck, pulling him over enough so he can kiss the top of his head. “Yes.”
“Well, let’s stop being impotent then,” Vic says and shoves Casey down onto the bed. “Fighting’s fucking stupid unless it’s physical.”
“Says the guy who always loses,” Casey laughs. He grabs Vic at the waist, grinning in satisfaction as he feels goosebumps rise underneath his fingertips and Vic shudders at the icy touch. “You know, if we could, I’d go on dates with you.” He speaks quietly, just loud enough for Vic to hear him. “Do sappy shit, feed each other dessert and kiss under streetlights or whatever. It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“It’s just that your dad would kill you. And mine would kill me. I know.” Vic still looks hurt, and Casey thinks he’d much rather see him bruised and bloodied, like usual, instead of that awful pout.
“We’re too young to die,” Casey jokes, and that finally gets a smile out of Vic.
“But not too young to fuck!” he shouts and yanks Casey’s boxers down.
The boys aren’t loud, but the act is, and it’s not long before someone’s being slammed into a wall, or knocked into a bookcase, and the debris starts flying. Deodorant and cologne fall from Vic’s dresser at just the same time that the side door to the house slams shut, and both boys freeze in their tracks.
“Clarence or Ruby?” Casey whispers into Vic’s ear.
Craning his head back, Vic responds with a quiet, “I don’t know.”
There are a few clattering sounds from the kitchen before another door slams shut.
“Clarence,” they both say in unison, and Casey groans out, “Fuck.”
“Don’t worry,” Vic replies, “he’ll be passed out in a few minutes. The older he gets, the quicker he drops.”
“We wouldn’t be doing this if my dad was in the house,” Casey hisses. “You must have a death wish.”
“I’m smart about it,” Vic insists. “He’s so drunk right now he wouldn’t even believe what he was seeing. We’re fine.”
Casey sighs heavily. “If you say so,” he says, and then bites Vic’s earlobe hard enough to make him yelp.
Casey falls asleep immediately after, stretched out in Vic’s twin bed with his back pressed against the wall. Vic’s eyes have long since adjusted to the darkness, and he lies curled up on his side, watching the rise and fall of Casey’s chest. The way his eyelashes are splayed across his cheeks, fuller and longer than even Gina’s are, makes him look younger than 17 and more innocent than he is. For once, they’re both free of bruises, scrapes, and blood and Casey looks almost angelic in the dim light filtering in through the window.
Casey is beautiful and more than that, he’s smart. Vic knows if he changed his attitude even a little bit, if his parents brought in a little more money, he could abandon their group to go hang out with better people. He could get scholarships and go away to college, Vic knows he could, and every time he thinks about it his throat closes up and he can’t breathe.
They’re both seniors, but Casey’s actually on the path to graduating. By the time May rolls around, he could be gone. Vic knows he could lose him so, so easily.
They haven’t said the three words, because they haven’t even said the word ‘boyfriend’ at that point, but God, Vic would say it in a heartbeat. He loves Casey. He can’t pretend he doesn’t.
Casey shifts and groans, opening his eyes just a crack--just enough to see Vic watching him. “You okay?” he asks, rubbing one eye with a loose fist.
“Can’t sleep,” Vic says, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the attention he receives after.
Casey reaches out to cup Vic’s face in one hand, gently rubbing his thumb up and down the slope of his cheekbone, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “We have school in the morning,” he whispers. “Close your eyes.”
“We should skip.”
He shakes his head. “Ruby won’t let us. Not because we’ve been drinking.”
“I want to stay here,” Vic says, and figures he doesn’t have to tack on the ‘with you’ to the end.
“There’s always tomorrow night,” Casey whispers and kisses him again. “Go to sleep.”
“Okay,” Vic agrees, and closes his eyes just to satisfy him. Casey continues stroking his face, and he tries to relax into the touch, content enough to just be lying mere inches away from the boy he loves.
Title: Our Cocoon
Story: The Gemini Occurrence ( Poverty Club 'Verse)
Rating: R (gratuitous swearing, various other inappropriate language, mentions of sex)
Flavor(s): Blue Raspberry #10: in bad taste; Licorice #8: the old man is snoring
Word Count: 1,666
Summary: October 2020. Before Mona wakes up that morning, Vic and Casey have some business to attend to.
Notes: Takes place during Rum & Coke. Casey Calhoun/Victor Eastman.
"Are you gonna sleep with me?" Vic asks, reaching out to tug on Casey's wrist.
Casey rolls his eyes, slowly and without much effort, and tells him, "What do you think?"
Vic is sloppy-drunk, stumbling all over himself, his blue eyes wide and too full of emotion. Casey, ever-stoic, wobbles on his feet but manages to look completely apathetic. The only hint that he's drunk is the flush across his cheeks and nose. They're wavering just outside Vic's bedroom door, hesitant, waiting for the right moment to slip in. Gina's been out for half an hour, at least, but Mona was up the last time they checked, and it's bad enough trying to slip off when Gina's around. She's their best friend and they worry about her finding out. Having a stranger in the house is even worse.
Casey reaches out to lightly push against Vic's chest. "Just go in your room," he mutters, dipping his head. "'m tired. Nobody'll think anything, Vic."
"Yeah," Vic says, nodding. "Okay." He pushes his bedroom door open and shuffles inside, still holding onto Casey’s wrist with his one hand. They shut the door behind them, and as tired as he may be, Vic can’t keep his hands off Casey. He pulls him close, running his palms up Casey’s sides, over his chest, up his neck until he’s cupping Casey’s face in both hands, staring at him reverently in the darkness.
“You’re so gay,” Casey whispers, and when he lurches forward to kiss him, Vic laughs against his lips.
Vic runs his fingers through Casey’s soft strawberry blond hair, combing back the pieces that always seem to flop into his eyes. “Just for you,” he says.
Casey snorts. “Yeah fuckin’ right.” Vic’s hands are still in his hair, and Casey grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him in for another, more passionate, kiss. For someone usually so careless and oblivious to the social norms for hygiene, Vic is a clean, focused kisser. Casey thinks Vic might even be better at it than he is when he pulls away to nip at Casey’s neck with gentle love bites.
“Just for you,” Vic insists with his mouth against Casey’s pulse, his breath hot against the exposed skin of his neck, chilled from hours inside Vic’s drafty house. “It’s getting late. My dad’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah,” Casey says, struggling to keep his voice even, “so?”
“I want you,” Vic breathes, and there’s only a split second of calm between them before they’re both tugging the shirts over their heads and undoing their jeans. It’s quiet in the house--Ruby’s at work, Clarence is somewhere getting piss-drunk, and Isaac is wherever the brat goes when he doesn’t want to be home--and every breath between them, every creaking floorboard sounds loud enough to wake every last house in The Ditch. Vic looks starry-eyed when Casey takes the time to glance down at him, and he smiles fondly and pushes Vic down onto the bed.
“Don’t give me that sappy look already,” Casey warns. “I haven’t even put it in you yet.”
“You’re so romantic,” Vic teases, laughing breathlessly.
“You don’t want romantic,” he argues, the both of them stripped down to their boxers and shivering in the cold air. “We don’t do romance.”
Vic blinks at him, looking vulnerable with his tired, light eyes, flat on the bed with his arms at his sides. “Maybe we should.”
“You wanna take me out?” Casey climbs onto the bed, straddling Vic, his knees at each of Vic’s elbows. “You wanna go on a date?”
“Maybe,” he replies and shrugs as much as he can in his position. “You don’t ever think about doing stuff like that?”
“No, I don’t.” Casey’s voice has gone cold, and he looks at Vic with an expression somewhere between confusion and disgust. “I know you don’t care what people think of you, but my parents--”
“Your parents can go fuck themselves!” Vic shouts, struggling underneath Casey. “Your mom wouldn’t care, because she loves you so goddamn much, and your dad’s an asshole because all dads are assholes, and you don’t see me worrying about Ruby walking in and--”
“That’s because Ruby would just flip us a condom and give us fucking cigarettes to smoke after!” Casey interrupts. He moves one leg so Vic can sit up, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “You wanna risk everything just so we can go fucking hold hands over dinner at Panera some night?”
Vic crosses his arms over his chest and scowls down at the floor. “I don’t want to risk anything. I just want this to be normal, alright? I think we deserve that much.”
“Fuck, Vic,” Casey sighs. He glances over at him through his bangs, disappointed by the way Vic’s lower lip is puffed out, how he won’t look up from the floor. Drinking always makes Vic more expressive, more willing to show--or at least less able to hide--his emotions, and Casey doesn’t know how to handle him. Not with the sad emotions.
“I bet we look really fucking stupid,” Vic grumbles, “sitting here in our underwear, arguing. Like incontinent old men.”
“What?” Casey asks, shaking his head. “That’s not the word, dude. I think you mean impotent.”
“Is that the word that means we’re supposed to be having sex but instead we’re fighting like pussies?”
Casey laughs and hooks an arm around Vic’s neck, pulling him over enough so he can kiss the top of his head. “Yes.”
“Well, let’s stop being impotent then,” Vic says and shoves Casey down onto the bed. “Fighting’s fucking stupid unless it’s physical.”
“Says the guy who always loses,” Casey laughs. He grabs Vic at the waist, grinning in satisfaction as he feels goosebumps rise underneath his fingertips and Vic shudders at the icy touch. “You know, if we could, I’d go on dates with you.” He speaks quietly, just loud enough for Vic to hear him. “Do sappy shit, feed each other dessert and kiss under streetlights or whatever. It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“It’s just that your dad would kill you. And mine would kill me. I know.” Vic still looks hurt, and Casey thinks he’d much rather see him bruised and bloodied, like usual, instead of that awful pout.
“We’re too young to die,” Casey jokes, and that finally gets a smile out of Vic.
“But not too young to fuck!” he shouts and yanks Casey’s boxers down.
The boys aren’t loud, but the act is, and it’s not long before someone’s being slammed into a wall, or knocked into a bookcase, and the debris starts flying. Deodorant and cologne fall from Vic’s dresser at just the same time that the side door to the house slams shut, and both boys freeze in their tracks.
“Clarence or Ruby?” Casey whispers into Vic’s ear.
Craning his head back, Vic responds with a quiet, “I don’t know.”
There are a few clattering sounds from the kitchen before another door slams shut.
“Clarence,” they both say in unison, and Casey groans out, “Fuck.”
“Don’t worry,” Vic replies, “he’ll be passed out in a few minutes. The older he gets, the quicker he drops.”
“We wouldn’t be doing this if my dad was in the house,” Casey hisses. “You must have a death wish.”
“I’m smart about it,” Vic insists. “He’s so drunk right now he wouldn’t even believe what he was seeing. We’re fine.”
Casey sighs heavily. “If you say so,” he says, and then bites Vic’s earlobe hard enough to make him yelp.
Casey falls asleep immediately after, stretched out in Vic’s twin bed with his back pressed against the wall. Vic’s eyes have long since adjusted to the darkness, and he lies curled up on his side, watching the rise and fall of Casey’s chest. The way his eyelashes are splayed across his cheeks, fuller and longer than even Gina’s are, makes him look younger than 17 and more innocent than he is. For once, they’re both free of bruises, scrapes, and blood and Casey looks almost angelic in the dim light filtering in through the window.
Casey is beautiful and more than that, he’s smart. Vic knows if he changed his attitude even a little bit, if his parents brought in a little more money, he could abandon their group to go hang out with better people. He could get scholarships and go away to college, Vic knows he could, and every time he thinks about it his throat closes up and he can’t breathe.
They’re both seniors, but Casey’s actually on the path to graduating. By the time May rolls around, he could be gone. Vic knows he could lose him so, so easily.
They haven’t said the three words, because they haven’t even said the word ‘boyfriend’ at that point, but God, Vic would say it in a heartbeat. He loves Casey. He can’t pretend he doesn’t.
Casey shifts and groans, opening his eyes just a crack--just enough to see Vic watching him. “You okay?” he asks, rubbing one eye with a loose fist.
“Can’t sleep,” Vic says, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the attention he receives after.
Casey reaches out to cup Vic’s face in one hand, gently rubbing his thumb up and down the slope of his cheekbone, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “We have school in the morning,” he whispers. “Close your eyes.”
“We should skip.”
He shakes his head. “Ruby won’t let us. Not because we’ve been drinking.”
“I want to stay here,” Vic says, and figures he doesn’t have to tack on the ‘with you’ to the end.
“There’s always tomorrow night,” Casey whispers and kisses him again. “Go to sleep.”
“Okay,” Vic agrees, and closes his eyes just to satisfy him. Casey continues stroking his face, and he tries to relax into the touch, content enough to just be lying mere inches away from the boy he loves.