*/ Fic */ Casey/Zeke */ Stopping the Cold
[cross-posted to naemi, fffc, bunnybash, and AO3]
Title: Stopping the Cold
Author: naemi
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Word Count: 619
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, maybe
Warnings & Tags: bickering
Beta: moit
A/N: Roughly following aliensouldream's ancient prompt: Casey/Zeke-warm up a winter night with something hot hot hot!!! Also written for fffc's 4th Froday Madness: Advent Calendar.
Stopping the Cold
Zeke slowly steers the GTO through the heavy snowfall while Casey keeps staring out the window and making occasional dismissive noises. The car heater gave out forever ago, and it's about as cold inside as it is out in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio. Zeke's knuckles went white then fiery-red forever ago, and his hands seem frozen in place on the steering wheel.
Although he secretly curses the weather and his life in general, he knows better than to voice his frustration. It won't help. Herrington is still a few hours away, and while they had a discussion about checking in somewhere for the night, Zeke really didn't feel like taking the risk of waking up snowed in in Fuck-You-Town-he’d get them home tonight so Casey could spend Christmas with his parents, and that was that.
Casey on the other hand was vocal about killing Zeke if he got them killed on this lonely road, and after a while of bickering-not fighting; they never fight-both had fallen gravely silent. Now, the crunch of the snow under the wheels, the whoosh of the wipers, and Casey's little huffs are the only sounds that accompany the boys through the night.
Casey shifts. Zeke hazards a glance to find him looking at his hands as if they were some sort of alien feature he just grew or something. Casey faces him and raises his eyebrows.
“They're warm.”
Nodding, Zeke returns his attention to the road. Of course his hands are warm. The little sucker fucking sat on them for the better part of an hour while Zeke couldn't do more than envy him.
After counting to ten to keep the snark at bay, Zeke opens his mouth to give Casey an estimate of their remaining travel time. Instead, he produces a garbled sound when Casey presses his palm against the back of his neck.
“See?”
“Congrats,” Zeke spits out. Although he likes the warmth, he shakes Casey off. “I'm frozen all over. Like a fucking TV dinner in a freezer of doom. That's how I feel.”
“We could still-”
“No. I'm not stopping anywhere.”
“What if I have to pee?”
“Use a goddamned water bottle.”
Casey laughs softly. “You're cute when you're annoyed.” He runs his hand up Zeke's thigh and-
“Stop it.”
Casey hums in reply, and for a moment, his fingertips rest half an inch away from Zeke's crotch. Then, Casey leans in to lick along Zeke's earlobe as his hand proceeds towards its destination. When he squeezes Zeke's dick through his jeans, Zeke all but groans.
“Goddammit, Case. I'm serious.”
“I'm just trying to warm you up a little.”
Knowing he can't win with words, Zeke bats Casey's hand away. The car swerves slightly until Zeke grabs the steering wheel tight again.
“Fine. Whatever.” Casey slumps into his seat. For a while, they're back to crunch and whoosh.
When Zeke can't stand the silence any longer, he turns on the radio, but of fucking course, the reception is no better than it was an hour ago: All he gets on any station is white noise.
With that static sound mixes the rustle of fabric, followed by a hushed moan. Although he doesn't want to, Zeke glances over and finds Casey with one hand down his pants. The sight connects straight to Zeke's dick.
“I swear to god,” he says with a voice as thick as liquid caramel, “if you don't stop, you're the one who's gonna get us killed out here.”
“Or you're the one who's finally gonna get us a room. A nice, warm room, where you can throw me on the bed and do naughty, naughty things to me.”
“Fuck you.”
“Now we're talking.”
Title: Stopping the Cold
Author: naemi
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Word Count: 619
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, maybe
Warnings & Tags: bickering
Beta: moit
A/N: Roughly following aliensouldream's ancient prompt: Casey/Zeke-warm up a winter night with something hot hot hot!!! Also written for fffc's 4th Froday Madness: Advent Calendar.
Stopping the Cold
Zeke slowly steers the GTO through the heavy snowfall while Casey keeps staring out the window and making occasional dismissive noises. The car heater gave out forever ago, and it's about as cold inside as it is out in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio. Zeke's knuckles went white then fiery-red forever ago, and his hands seem frozen in place on the steering wheel.
Although he secretly curses the weather and his life in general, he knows better than to voice his frustration. It won't help. Herrington is still a few hours away, and while they had a discussion about checking in somewhere for the night, Zeke really didn't feel like taking the risk of waking up snowed in in Fuck-You-Town-he’d get them home tonight so Casey could spend Christmas with his parents, and that was that.
Casey on the other hand was vocal about killing Zeke if he got them killed on this lonely road, and after a while of bickering-not fighting; they never fight-both had fallen gravely silent. Now, the crunch of the snow under the wheels, the whoosh of the wipers, and Casey's little huffs are the only sounds that accompany the boys through the night.
Casey shifts. Zeke hazards a glance to find him looking at his hands as if they were some sort of alien feature he just grew or something. Casey faces him and raises his eyebrows.
“They're warm.”
Nodding, Zeke returns his attention to the road. Of course his hands are warm. The little sucker fucking sat on them for the better part of an hour while Zeke couldn't do more than envy him.
After counting to ten to keep the snark at bay, Zeke opens his mouth to give Casey an estimate of their remaining travel time. Instead, he produces a garbled sound when Casey presses his palm against the back of his neck.
“See?”
“Congrats,” Zeke spits out. Although he likes the warmth, he shakes Casey off. “I'm frozen all over. Like a fucking TV dinner in a freezer of doom. That's how I feel.”
“We could still-”
“No. I'm not stopping anywhere.”
“What if I have to pee?”
“Use a goddamned water bottle.”
Casey laughs softly. “You're cute when you're annoyed.” He runs his hand up Zeke's thigh and-
“Stop it.”
Casey hums in reply, and for a moment, his fingertips rest half an inch away from Zeke's crotch. Then, Casey leans in to lick along Zeke's earlobe as his hand proceeds towards its destination. When he squeezes Zeke's dick through his jeans, Zeke all but groans.
“Goddammit, Case. I'm serious.”
“I'm just trying to warm you up a little.”
Knowing he can't win with words, Zeke bats Casey's hand away. The car swerves slightly until Zeke grabs the steering wheel tight again.
“Fine. Whatever.” Casey slumps into his seat. For a while, they're back to crunch and whoosh.
When Zeke can't stand the silence any longer, he turns on the radio, but of fucking course, the reception is no better than it was an hour ago: All he gets on any station is white noise.
With that static sound mixes the rustle of fabric, followed by a hushed moan. Although he doesn't want to, Zeke glances over and finds Casey with one hand down his pants. The sight connects straight to Zeke's dick.
“I swear to god,” he says with a voice as thick as liquid caramel, “if you don't stop, you're the one who's gonna get us killed out here.”
“Or you're the one who's finally gonna get us a room. A nice, warm room, where you can throw me on the bed and do naughty, naughty things to me.”
“Fuck you.”
“Now we're talking.”