Alternative to Feeling Like Yourself, The Faculty, Casey/Zeke, PG-13
Title: Alternative to Feeling Like Yourself
Fandom: The Faculty
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Rating: PG-13
Notes: July Madness begins! Guys, this so almost didn't happen because I got a virus around 3pm, and it took until 9:30pm to get it all squared away. But I seem to be in the clear now. Phew.
He didn’t mean to get Casey drunk. He’d swear to it before judge and jury. But he’s pretty sure there isn’t a soul alive who’d believe him.
It’s just that the kid must weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, and a high school social life that consisted of yearbook and photography club had clearly given him no chance to develop anything even vaguely resembling tolerance. So three beers later, Casey was giggling and stupid, sprawled across the bar at Lefty’s, and Zeke had already discredited most of his reputation by bringing him there.
“Come on, Case. Let’s go.” Zeke grabbed him under the arms and dragged him off the bar stool, knowing that he’d never make it down on his own.
Ted set two glasses down for a pair of businessmen a few stools down, but Zeke could feel his eyes on him as Casey found his footing.
“What are you doing with that kid, Tyler?”
“Don’t worry about it, Teddy. He’ll be fine. Right, Casey?”
Casey looked up at them with a lopsided grin. “What are you talking about? I am fine. We don’t need to wait for me to become fine. Fine has been achieved. I’m way ahead of you guys.”
Zeke and Ted shared a smirk over his head.
“That boy have any idea what’s about to happen?”
“It’s not like that, man.”
“Sure it isn’t,” Ted said with a wink.
He shook his head and set about the task of getting Casey to the car. He put him in the back seat because he was all too familiar with how Casey talked with his hands when he’d had a few drinks, and the last thing he needed was Casey smacking him in the face while he was trying to drive. He hoped Casey told his parents that he wouldn’t be home because he wasn’t sure Casey was capable of making a phone call that wouldn’t raise a few eyebrows.
“Where are we going?” Casey asked as Zeke tried to get him to buckle his seatbelt.
“My place. That okay?”
Casey leaned in, his face serious. “Well, I can’t exactly go home like this, now can I, Zeke?”
“Could be interesting if you did.”
By the time Zeke got into the front, Casey’d undone the buckle and was lying in the backseat, his feet against the door, demanding that Zeke turn on the radio. Zeke turned on the college station that Casey put in his presets that plays songs by bands that Zeke had never heard of until Casey. And Zeke smiled as they drove home tapping along to the same beat, his fingers against the steering wheel, Casey’s sneakers against the window. The glass would be a mess by the time they got back to Herrington, but Zeke didn’t really care because it was worth it just to feel like he wasn’t completely out of sync with the world for the thirty minutes it took to get home, matching Casey beat for beat until he pulled up the long driveway and turned off the car.
As he opened the back door, Casey sat up and told him, “You know, I’m really not as wasted as you think.”
And it could have been true because Casey looked a little more alert than Zeke remembered him from the bar, and when he stumbled a bit as his feet hit the pavement, it might’ve just been Casey’s natural clumsiness, but Zeke caught him by the arm to steady him regardless. Casey’s skin was warm, flushed from the alcohol, and Casey’s eyes were big and clear. And it would be easy because Casey was just standing there, waiting for him to do something, to let go or move or say something.
It wasn’t like Casey didn’t know. It wasn’t like Casey hadn’t possibly hinted that he’d be interested maybe possibly under very specific circumstances. But Zeke for once in his life had a reason not to risk everything, risk the only friend he really had.
But that same friend was also just fucking waiting. And when Zeke finally leaned in and kissed him, Casey immediately grabbed on and held him there until they were both out of breath.
“Is this why we had to drive all the way out to Westmont and drink shitty, watered down beer for two hours? Just so you could do this? Because that was really just a waste of time. Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture of you thinking it would be hard to get me into bed.”
Casey looked up at him with that crooked grin of his.
“You sure you’re not that drunk?” Zeke asked.
“Do you really care?”
Zeke wasn’t sure; all he knew was that he hadn’t meant to get Casey drunk, but he was. Drunk and happy and waiting for Zeke to kiss him again. And now Casey’s grin was slowly fading, his grip on Zeke’s shirt loosening.
“If that’s not…. I mean, I just thought-… You only ever even bring it up when we’ve had a couple drinks, and I thought that this was what you….” Casey never finishes the sentence. His hands disappear into his pockets, and he glances around a bit as if looking for escape. “Is it?”
Even through his hesitation, Casey peered up at him with an intensity, an eagerness, that even Zeke couldn’t mistake. And Zeke could feel any resolve not to ruin this fade away.
“To answer your question,” Casey said as he leaned in, his palm resting on Zeke’s stomach, “I’m really not that drunk. Really.”
Zeke started to say something, started to utter some warning or apology, but Casey’s lips pressed against his again and his arm curled around Zeke’s neck, and he could hear the loose gravel crunching beneath their shifting feet just before his blood began rushing through his ears. Casey’s hands were warm on his sides, gently guiding him toward the garage.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He could taste the Miller High Life lingering on Casey’s tongue, and he didn’t have any other choice but to believe every word it uttered.
Fandom: The Faculty
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Rating: PG-13
Notes: July Madness begins! Guys, this so almost didn't happen because I got a virus around 3pm, and it took until 9:30pm to get it all squared away. But I seem to be in the clear now. Phew.
He didn’t mean to get Casey drunk. He’d swear to it before judge and jury. But he’s pretty sure there isn’t a soul alive who’d believe him.
It’s just that the kid must weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, and a high school social life that consisted of yearbook and photography club had clearly given him no chance to develop anything even vaguely resembling tolerance. So three beers later, Casey was giggling and stupid, sprawled across the bar at Lefty’s, and Zeke had already discredited most of his reputation by bringing him there.
“Come on, Case. Let’s go.” Zeke grabbed him under the arms and dragged him off the bar stool, knowing that he’d never make it down on his own.
Ted set two glasses down for a pair of businessmen a few stools down, but Zeke could feel his eyes on him as Casey found his footing.
“What are you doing with that kid, Tyler?”
“Don’t worry about it, Teddy. He’ll be fine. Right, Casey?”
Casey looked up at them with a lopsided grin. “What are you talking about? I am fine. We don’t need to wait for me to become fine. Fine has been achieved. I’m way ahead of you guys.”
Zeke and Ted shared a smirk over his head.
“That boy have any idea what’s about to happen?”
“It’s not like that, man.”
“Sure it isn’t,” Ted said with a wink.
He shook his head and set about the task of getting Casey to the car. He put him in the back seat because he was all too familiar with how Casey talked with his hands when he’d had a few drinks, and the last thing he needed was Casey smacking him in the face while he was trying to drive. He hoped Casey told his parents that he wouldn’t be home because he wasn’t sure Casey was capable of making a phone call that wouldn’t raise a few eyebrows.
“Where are we going?” Casey asked as Zeke tried to get him to buckle his seatbelt.
“My place. That okay?”
Casey leaned in, his face serious. “Well, I can’t exactly go home like this, now can I, Zeke?”
“Could be interesting if you did.”
By the time Zeke got into the front, Casey’d undone the buckle and was lying in the backseat, his feet against the door, demanding that Zeke turn on the radio. Zeke turned on the college station that Casey put in his presets that plays songs by bands that Zeke had never heard of until Casey. And Zeke smiled as they drove home tapping along to the same beat, his fingers against the steering wheel, Casey’s sneakers against the window. The glass would be a mess by the time they got back to Herrington, but Zeke didn’t really care because it was worth it just to feel like he wasn’t completely out of sync with the world for the thirty minutes it took to get home, matching Casey beat for beat until he pulled up the long driveway and turned off the car.
As he opened the back door, Casey sat up and told him, “You know, I’m really not as wasted as you think.”
And it could have been true because Casey looked a little more alert than Zeke remembered him from the bar, and when he stumbled a bit as his feet hit the pavement, it might’ve just been Casey’s natural clumsiness, but Zeke caught him by the arm to steady him regardless. Casey’s skin was warm, flushed from the alcohol, and Casey’s eyes were big and clear. And it would be easy because Casey was just standing there, waiting for him to do something, to let go or move or say something.
It wasn’t like Casey didn’t know. It wasn’t like Casey hadn’t possibly hinted that he’d be interested maybe possibly under very specific circumstances. But Zeke for once in his life had a reason not to risk everything, risk the only friend he really had.
But that same friend was also just fucking waiting. And when Zeke finally leaned in and kissed him, Casey immediately grabbed on and held him there until they were both out of breath.
“Is this why we had to drive all the way out to Westmont and drink shitty, watered down beer for two hours? Just so you could do this? Because that was really just a waste of time. Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture of you thinking it would be hard to get me into bed.”
Casey looked up at him with that crooked grin of his.
“You sure you’re not that drunk?” Zeke asked.
“Do you really care?”
Zeke wasn’t sure; all he knew was that he hadn’t meant to get Casey drunk, but he was. Drunk and happy and waiting for Zeke to kiss him again. And now Casey’s grin was slowly fading, his grip on Zeke’s shirt loosening.
“If that’s not…. I mean, I just thought-… You only ever even bring it up when we’ve had a couple drinks, and I thought that this was what you….” Casey never finishes the sentence. His hands disappear into his pockets, and he glances around a bit as if looking for escape. “Is it?”
Even through his hesitation, Casey peered up at him with an intensity, an eagerness, that even Zeke couldn’t mistake. And Zeke could feel any resolve not to ruin this fade away.
“To answer your question,” Casey said as he leaned in, his palm resting on Zeke’s stomach, “I’m really not that drunk. Really.”
Zeke started to say something, started to utter some warning or apology, but Casey’s lips pressed against his again and his arm curled around Zeke’s neck, and he could hear the loose gravel crunching beneath their shifting feet just before his blood began rushing through his ears. Casey’s hands were warm on his sides, gently guiding him toward the garage.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He could taste the Miller High Life lingering on Casey’s tongue, and he didn’t have any other choice but to believe every word it uttered.