Inside-Out (15-20)

[ibonekoen]

I would like to take this time to thank all of you who have left comments.  And yes, there is more boy touching in this chapter.  (All together now:  YAY!)

It takes us at least another hour to move again, and I can’t say that I got bored. By the time we actually get into the shower, we’re both giggly, and soap ends up in some interesting places. I don’t remember the last time I actually had fun. Getting wasted and having fun are very, very different things.

He grins, looking at me with this interesting look. It’s kind of a mixture of surprise, amusement and something else I can’t quite put a finger on.

“What?” I ask. I can’t help but grin because hey, he’s grinning at me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.” he says. “I like it. You should do it more.”

“Well, maybe you can find a way of making me laugh that doesn’t involve soap in my ass crack.” I respond with a grin. “Not that I’m complaining exactly, but it feels a little weird. Besides, can’t do that in polite company.”

He laughs. “True.” he says. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

He quiets down, suddenly looking serious. “No regrets, Zeke?” he asks softly. “Because I don’t have any.”

“My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.” I say sincerely, looking down at him.

He grins as he looks up at me, his face brightening. “Really? Cool.”

He spontaneously throws himself at me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

There’s something about the honesty of the gesture, the vulnerability, that hits me somewhere that. . .that hurts. Like the way a muscle hurts when it hasn’t been used in a really long time. I hold my breath, grimacing, as I hold onto him a little too tightly. That’s the problem about caring for people, I’m now being reminded: I now have something to lose.

“Remind me to thank Stokely.” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the fact that his face is pressed against my chest.

“Yeah. Sure.” I respond, definitely overwhelmed. “Case, what exactly did she say to you?”

I slowly run my wet fingers through his hair and trail them down his neck, wincing again as another wave of emotion hits me. I just can’t get over what everyday life is like for Casey. Seeing him happy is indescribably good.

“That you liked me.” Casey says as he looks up at me. “And that she thought we’d go good together. She said you needed somebody like me to keep you grounded.”

He frowns a little. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “You’re wincing.”

“Nothing.” I lie, not wanting to get into what I’m feeling right now, since I’m not even sure exactly what’s going on inside my own head. “I’m okay.”

“Oh.” he says. “Well, as long as you’re sure you’re okay.”

He licks his lips. “I know this is going kind of fast and it’s going to take a little bit to wrap our heads around it, but I’m glad this has happened. This might sound weird. . .but. . .I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

I smile before that even entirely sinks in, and kiss his forehead. “Good.”

******

I’m definitely rethinking that estimation, however, as we’re driving to his house. Why am I meeting his parents? Why now? We just, like, half had sex. This is weird. This is really, really weird. I’m going to fuck this up, and I’m going to fuck this up bad.

Casey smiles at me as he reaches across and pats my knee reassuringly. “Relax.” he insists. “You’re going to be fine. Just smile and nod and make small talk.”

I jump as he touches me. I can’t help it.

“Right.” I say quickly. “Just smile and nod. Right.”

Casey raises one eyebrow as he tilts his head to one side. “You’re really nervous.” he says. “Okay, so I’ll admit I am too, a little. But this is going to work. They’re going to love you and they’re going to give me permission to spend the weekend with you so we can work on our history project.”

He grins, winking at me.

“Right. It’s not like they’re going to automatically assume it’s anything else.” I agree, trying to convince myself. “I’m just a moron that needs help in school. Right.”

I pull into the driveway of Casey’s house.

“Okay I’m still freaking out.” I admit quickly. I’ve totally lost the cool guy act at this point.

“Just breathe.” Casey says. “It’s just dinner and then we can go.”

He glances toward his front door, then back at me. “So, you ready to do this?”

“No. But I’ll do it anyway.” I say, then squeeze my eyes closed. “I just have to stop thinking about you naked. What are your parents’ names again?”

“Walter and Patricia.” Casey says, grinning. He reaches over and squeezes my hand, then opens his door and gets out of the car.

I repeat the names to myself, then get out of the car. I check my hair in the sideview mirror.

Who’m I kidding? I look like a punk. His parents are going to hate me.

Casey heads up to the front door and opens it. “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” he shouts into the house.

He glances behind him to make sure that I’m following.

I’m following, I’m following.

Damn it, the screen door tried to attack me.

“Hi honey! In the kitchen!” Casey’s mom calls out. At least I assume it’s Casey’s mom. Or we’re in the wrong house.

Casey leads the way into the kitchen. “Hey Mom.” he says as he kisses his mother’s cheek.

She looks a lot like Casey, only with blond hair. Same blue eyes. He’s maybe an inch taller.

“Mom, this is my friend, Zeke Tyler.” he says. “Zeke, my mom.”

“Hey Mrs. Connor.” I say, trying not to look or sound too stupid. Casey’s mom’s a babe.

And that was a really sick thought.

“Nice to meet you Zeke.” Casey’s mom says before immediately fussing over her son.

“How was your day, honey?” she asks, picking lint off his clothes.

“It was good, Mom.” Casey says, nodding. He manages to avoid looking at me as he smiles. “Where’s Dad?”

I can hear the sounds of a TV coming from what is probably the living room, followed by a man shouting, “God damn it, my great-grandmother could throw better than that!”

Casey rolls his eyes. “Should’ve known.” he mutters. “Zeke’s staying for dinner, Mom.”

“Raiders game?” I ask. I’m guessing football. Casey’s dad sounds like a doofus.

“What else?” Casey’s mom responds, rolling her eyes. “Watch it, he’ll talk your ear off. He’s got no one to talk to about it around here. Staying for dinner? Ooh, how nice!”

“Do you need any help, Mom?” Casey asks. “We’ll pop in and say hi to Dad first.”

“No, that’s fine dear. You have a friend over.” ‘Mom’ insists. Then she smiles at me. Uhhh, right. She’s just being nice.

If Casey’s mom comes on to me, I’m going to scream.

“Okay, cool.” Casey says. “C’mon, Zeke.”

He leaves the kitchen and heads into the living room. His dad is sitting in a recliner, drinking a beer. Across the room is a widescreen TV, playing, sure enough, a Raiders game.

“Hi Dad.” Casey says.

His father eyeballs me, then glances at Casey. “Hey son. Who’s your friend?”

“Name’s Zeke Tyler, uh, sir.” I respond, then glance at the TV. “Who’re they playing? Kansas City?”

Yes, I’m sucking up. Consider it returning the favor Casey gave me earlier.

And yep, Casey’s dad LOOKS like a doofus too.

“Nice to meet you, Zeke.” Casey’s dad says. “Yeah, Kansas City’s kicking their ass too. You play football, Zeke?”

“Yeah, for a little while.” I say, nodding.

Casey’s dad looks impressed. “I used to play football.” he says. “I was the star quarterback of the Herrington Hornets. Played for Ohio State. Was going to go pro but I messed my knee up pretty bad.”

He nods at Casey. “Tried to get that one to join the team but he never showed any interest in it.” he says. “He takes after his mother. Photography. Huh. Could’ve made a fortune in football, son.”

Casey rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dad.” he says, sounding unenthusiastic.

This is obviously a conversation they’d had before.

I can’t help but look at Casey with obvious bewilderment. Is his dad nuts? Football? Casey?

“Yeah, well, if he was a football player, he wouldn’t be able to tutor dumbasses like me.” I say with a shrug. “So I, for one, am pretty glad he didn’t go into football. Besides, the team this year’s made up of a bunch of assholes. Whoops, pardon my french.”

“Oh?” his dad says. “You’re tutoring him, Casey?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a history project coming up.” Casey says. “I was thinking I could spend the weekend with him so we could work on it.”

His dad frowns, glancing at me. “You’d better ask your mother, Casey.” he says. “You know how she worries about you.”

Okay, I really don’t like that look. I can’t tell whether that’s a look of suspicion, or ‘please God let some masculinity rub off on my son.’

Besides, if Casey’s parents were really worried about him, they shouldn’t send him to school.

“Okay.” Casey says, nodding.

“Are you staying for dinner, Zeke?” Casey’s dad asks. “Patty’s making meatloaf.”

He and Casey exchange a look that seems to say ‘We’d rather get takeout.’

Ominously, I can hear Casey’s mom humming in the kitchen.

“That’s. . .the plan.” I say slowly. Okay, I know she’s a bad cook, but how do you screw up meatloaf?

“That’s good.” Casey’s dad says. “Nice to know Casey has friends.”

“So what’s this history project about?” he asks.

“Well, we’re doing a unit on World War II.” Casey says. “In fact, we should probably get started on it now, so we’re gonna go up to my room where we won’t be disturbed by your game.”

“Okay.” his dad says. “We’ll let you know when dinner is ready, I guess.”

By this point I’ve determined that Casey’s dad is a GIANT doofus. Nice to know Casey has friends?! What the fuck does that mean?! Dink.

“Nice meeting you sir.” I say, mainly because I’m technically supposed to.

Wait. . .oh sweet I get to see Casey’s room!

Casey motions for me to follow him and leads me upstairs. We walk to the end of the hall and Casey opens a door.

“I warn you, it’s a bit of a mess.” he says as he motions inside.

As I walk into his room, the first thing I notice is the bed. It is literally right there as you open the door. He’s got a set of shelves on the wall beside his bed and there are pictures that he’s obviously taken taped to the wall beneath the shelves. There’s a few of Delilah but also, to my surprise, quite a number of me.

His room is L shaped with his closet on the far side of the room. He’s got a desk against one wall, with a computer, of course. Geek. The desk is a mess. As for the floor, it’s pretty much what you’d expect in a teenage guy’s room. There’s dirty clothes and books strewn everywhere.

“No way man, this is cool.” I insist as I head in. Of course I sit on the bed, because it’s Casey’s bed and I’m having an attack of stupid mush.

“Do your parents come in here?” I ask, nodding at the photos.

Casey blushes. “Um, no, not often.” he says. “They’re so used to them being pictures of Delilah, I don’t think they pay attention to them anymore anyway.”

He peeks out into the hall and then shuts the door. “So this is my room.” he says, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture.

I nod in response. But I’m not done with my train of thought.

“‘Cause, you know, if your dad saw those pictures, that might explain the look he gave me downstairs.” I point out.

Casey blinks. “Oh.” he says.

He pauses, frowning. “That’s. . .not good.”

“And we came in here with no books.” I point out. “Got any on World War II lying around?”

“Actually, yes.” he says as he crosses over to a bookcase set up along the wall opposite his desk. He starts pulling books of various thickness off the shelves. “My parents got these for me when I was younger.”

He deposits four books on the bed beside me.

“And,” he says as he moves over to his desk, “I printed out some stuff last night.”

He picks up a packet of paper and carries it over to the bed, then sits down. He grins, glancing at me.

I smile approvingly in response.

“Nice work.” I say solemnly, nodding, then lean in and kiss him quickly.

“Let me see a few of those pictures.” I murmur in his ear. “It’ll look less weird if mom suddenly comes barging in here.”

Okay, I have to admit, this is kind of fun.

Casey shivers, grinning. “Okay.” he says.

He turns to the wall behind us and starts pulling the pictures of me down. “Some of these are from before.” he says as he hands them to me. “You know, the alien attack. Most of them are when you’re not looking or don’t realize I’m there.”

“What were they? Proof I was actually in school occasionally?” I ask, looking the photos over as he hands them to me. “Case, I know I’m not an expert, but I think these are really fucking good. You somehow managed to get pictures of me that don’t make me look like a caveman.”

Casey chuckles, blushing. “Thanks.” he says. “Um, no, these were just. . .random moments that struck me as photogenic. I don’t know, they just. . .begged to be captured on film.”

“This one,” he says, tapping a picture of me leaning against my car and smoking a cigarette, “is my favorite.”

He’s captured me in mid-movement, with the cigarette inches away from my lips. My face is turned away from the camera, my eyes fixated on something off to the right. Probably a cheerleader or Miss Burke.

“Really?” I ask. “Come on, that’s totally the front. I mean, it’s a great picture, but. . .I dunno. It’s me bullshitting.”

“Yeah, but I totally love to watch you smoke.” he admits, then blushes.

“You should be a model.” he says suddenly. “You’re perfect for it.”

“Okay, I’ll be your model.” I respond with a grin. “You like to watch, huh?”

The grin widens. I can’t help it.

“No, no, no, like a real model.” Casey says. “Clothes and stuff. You’ve got the body and looks for it. And yes, I like to watch.”

Then he blushes brightly. “Um, wait, how did you mean that?”

“In the most perverted possible way.” I insist with a grin. I’m not going to comment on the model thing. I think Casey’s a bit biased.

He laughs. “Yeah, I kind of thought that.” he says.

“I think we’ve got a good shot at making this work.” he says. “All we have to do is convince Mom you’re cool. No matter what Dad thinks, if Mom is convinced it’s a good idea, he’ll go along with it.”

He grins, rolling his eyes. “That’s how we ended up with the guest bathroom’s walls painted in puce.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck puce is.” I admit. “And I think your mom likes me. But for now. . .”

I crook my finger at him, giving him a suggestive look.

“You’re too far away.”

“It’s an ugly color. Trust me.” he says.

He grins and slides closer to me. “This better?”

“The closer the better.” I insist, then prop myself up against his headboard and arrange him in my lap. I hand him a book.

“Teach me.” I instruct, then kiss his neck softly, just below his ear.

He shivers, his breath quickening. “Okay.” he says as he opens the book. “Um. . .World War Two. . .started in 1939 with the Nazi invasion of Poland. Hitler came into power in the early part of the 30s though.”

“How’d that happen?” I ask before I start sucking on his earlobe. Just when I thought I’d gotten past that whole ‘thrill of possibly getting caught’ thing, I met Casey’s dad, who’s a massive douchebag.

I know, I know, it’s self-destructive. Even worse, it might take Casey down with me. But part of me wants his parents to throw him out so he can come live with me.

But that might fuck up his college plans, so. . .

Just five minutes. We’re not going to get caught in five minutes.

Mmmmm. . . Casey’s ear. . .

Casey shudders, swallowing audibly. “Um, he did it subtly and used propaganda to convince the German public he was a good guy.” he says. “He, uh, was very charismatic.”

“I like that.” he mutters. “What. . .what you’re doing.”

“Good, ‘cause I like doing it.” I respond, my teeth still tugging on his surprisingly delicate skin. He responds to stuff just like a girl, which is totally awesome. After one final tug, I pull away, and settle my arms around his midsection, resting my chin on his shoulder.

“Hitler. Charismatic. Got it.” I say with a slight nod. “Hey, that’s right. They used him as an example of a charismatic character in the original Dungeons and Dragons books. That was cool.”

I grin. Hey! I know something!

Casey glances over his shoulder at me, looking surprised. “You play Dungeons and Dragons?” he asks.

“Used to. When I was a kid.” I admit. “What? That was back before video games were really cool. And people said it was Satanic, so I HAD to find out what it was all about.”

Casey laughs. “Okay, that makes sense.” he says, nodding. “It’s just that most people who like D&D are dorks or geeks.”

“Shhhhh. . .now you know my secret identity.” I whisper in his ear. “Don’t tell, okay?”

He grins, chuckling. “Your secret’s safe with me.” he says. He flips through the book in his lap. “You know, Hitler came pretty damn close to conquering all of Europe. But then he just stopped in France. He had Parkinson’s Disease, did you know?”

“No way. Really?” I ask, resting my head back on his shoulder. “I mean about the Parkinson’s Disease, not about the Europe thing. I knew that. Okay, so what are we supposed to do with this project?”

I eye his ear again.

“I’m sorry.” I say gravely. “I can’t help myself.”

I go back to sucking on his ear, making soft growling sounds. It’s just such a cute ear!

Casey draws in a breath, then lets it out in a slow sigh. “Zeke. . .I can’t think when you do that.” he moans softly.

“I lied, you know.” he adds breathlessly. “There isn’t a project. Well. . .it’s extra credit anyway.”

“Mmm, you’re sexy when you lie.” I purr, nuzzling the shell of his ear. This is getting amazingly easy. I’m getting comfortable fast. Yeah, sure, these are still just bullshit lines, but at least I can say them without panicking and making sure my dick hasn’t fallen off from gay-itis.

“Casey! Zeke! Dinner!”

I almost jump out of my skin when I hear Casey’s mom’s voice. It sounds WAY closer at first than I expected, but I guess sound just carries strangely in this house, because that’s definitely a yelling from the bottom of the stairs tone of voice.

“Shit.” Casey hisses softly. “Talk about great sense of timing. . .”

“We’ll be right down, Mom!” he yells. Then he reluctantly crawls out of my lap and climbs off the bed, standing up.

“Once I calm back down.” he mutters. He smiles sheepishly as he casts a glance downward.

At this point in time, I could honestly wrap my lips around Casey’s dick and be perfectly fine with it. There’s just something about him that defies gender.

Defies gender? What the fuck? Where did that thought come from? Shit, just hanging around Casey is making me smarter.

I grin back at him, then pick up the book he was reading from and start looking through it. I’ll leave him alone. Really.

Two minutes later, of course, Mrs. Connor is knocking on her son’s door. Fuck, I forgot how annoying it is to have parents.

“Coming, coming!” Casey yells. He rolls his eyes as he heads over to the door and pulls it open to smile brightly at his mom.

“Food’s getting cold.” Mrs. Connor chastises.

“Sorry Mrs. C. It’s my fault.” I say, not looking up from the book. “I’m kind of a slow reader, and I didn’t want to lose my place.”

Hey, I’m not above playing the pathetic dummy.

“Oh.” Mrs. Connor says, looking a little surprised, and I think maybe relieved, that there actually is a book in my vicinity. “Oh, well, I’m sorry.”

She pulls Casey into the hall and whispers, “Is he really that slow?”

She should whisper more quietly if she doesn’t want me to hear.

Casey briefly looks amused but then nods solemnly. “We’re working on that too, Mom.” he whispers. “Might not want to mention it. He gets sensitive about the subject.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Connor says, obviously taking pity on me. She glances over, thinking I’m not watching. Subtle.

“Does he come from a bad home?” she asks. “I don’t want you going over there if he comes from a bad home.”

“I live on my own.” I interject. This is one of those cases where it’s more devious to be honest. “Don’t even know where my parents are, but I can bet dad’s face down in a bottle and mom’s. . .well, never mind. Maybe I should just go.”

I start getting to my feet, closing the book.

“Oh no no nono Zeke no, please, I didn’t mean it that way.” Mrs. Connor insists, looking pretty embarrassed. “I just. . .well, they never mentioned your parents in the stories in the paper.”

Paper? What? Ohhhhhh. Casey’s parents were trying to be sneaky.

I can’t help it. I grin.

“Mom.” Casey protests, his face turning red. “C’mon, it’s not like I’ll be that far away. Zeke lives three streets down. Besides he’s not a serial killer or anything.”

“I just don’t like you being somewhere without adult supervision, Casey sweetie.” Casey’s mom insists, but I can see she feels lousy about the whole thing, so it won’t take much for her to cave.

“Technically I AM an adult, Mrs. C.” I point out. “And I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna be throwing any crazy parties. This is a school thing. I just thought it would be easier. You know, mess up my house instead of yours, since yours is way nicer.”

“Oh. . .I. . .I just don’t know.” Mrs. Connor frets. Ugh, let go of the apron strings, lady.

“Please Mom?” Casey says, giving her his best wide-eyed expression of innocence. “It’s for school.”

“There’s a phone number you can be reached at?” Mrs. Connor asks. I nod.

“I’ll. . .I’ll think about it.” she mumbles. “I should talk to your father about it anyway. Come down for supper.”

I suck at my cheek. If I didn’t actually have proof Casey actually had testicles, I’d think mommy dearest kept them in a jar. No wonder the kid is fucked up.

“Okay.” Casey says, nodding. He still looks hopeful though. “We just need to wash up first and then we’ll be down, Mom.”

He brushes past his mom and heads down the hall.

I look Casey’s mom up and down. She obviously thinks I have rapist potential or something. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, since I doubt Casey’s parents screw much.

“How’s he gonna go away to college if he’s never spent the night away from home?” I ask her pointedly. She almost jumps out of her skin.

“I need to talk to his father.” she says quickly, then hurries downstairs, face flushed.

I wonder to myself why Casey’s parents are such fucking freaks. Maybe it has something to do with him being an only child.

I sigh wearily, rub my face, then go to find Casey, following the sounds of running water.

Casey glances up from the sink where he’s washing his hands. He glances past me, I guess to make sure I wasn’t followed or something.

“Sorry about that.” he says, dropping his voice down to a whisper. “My mom’s neurotic.”

“I noticed.” I say flatly. “You okay?”

He sighs. “Yeah.” he says, nodding. “I just. . .if I’d had somewhere to run away to, I would’ve been long gone before now.”

He shuts off the faucet and then turns to a towel rack behind him and begins drying his hands.

“Maybe someday we’ll discuss how serious you are about that.” I say, then start washing my hands. Too tempting. WAY too tempting. College. Casey’s going to college.

“I think you’re better off without parents, Zeke.” he says. “At least you don’t have somebody telling you where to go and when to be home.”

He sighs and starts chewing on a nail.

“There’s pros and cons to each side.” I insist. “For instance, even if your mom can’t cook, you still get food made and your laundry done. Come on, dinner’s ready.”

Casey chuckles. “True. Okay. Time to suck up.”

He leads the way down to the kitchen where his parents are already waiting. Mr. Connor has already helped his plate, frowning at the meatloaf. . .which appears to be overcooked.

“Looks good, Mom.” Casey says as he sits down. He bites his lip, trying not to giggle as he motions for me to sit down across the table from him.

“You guys making any progress on your project?” Mr. Connor asks, looking from Casey to me.

“Yeah.” Casey says, nodding as he helps himself to some mashed potatoes and then passes the bowl to me.

“Hitler had Parkinson’s Disease.” I agree with a nod as I take the bowl. The mashed potatoes look pretty safe. Meatloaf isn’t supposed to make crackling or crunching sounds under any circumstances though.

Shit. Suck up. Right.

“Looks good, Mrs. C.” I say. Mrs, Connor just nods at me shyly. God, do I dare tell Casey his mom probably wants me to break into her bedroom, throw his dad out the window, and screw her ‘til she forgets her own name? This is weird.

Casey is looking at his mom kind of weird. His dad is looking at me with interest.

“Really?” he says. “Huh. I never knew that.”

He cuts off a bite-sized piece of meatloaf, pops it into his mouth and chews slowly. His facial expression is halfway between distaste and pretending to like it.

“It’s a bit dry, Patty.” he says, swallowing. He glances at me. “So, Zeke, we’ve never really heard Casey mention you before.”

‘A bit dry’ is an understatement. On that scale, the Gobi Desert is a bit dry.

I manage to grind up a desiccated piece of meatloaf before swallowing it though. I’ve eaten worse, but it gives me time to think. How the fuck do I respond to that?

“Didn’t have much reason to before now, sir.” I say.

Yeah sure. There’s a ton of pictures of me in his room, and there’s the whole alien thing, but I don’t know if they really talk about the alien thing.

“Patty tells me your parents aren’t around.” he says. “Now, I have to agree with Patty. I don’t much like the idea of Casey going off without adult supervision.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Casey mutters as he pushes his potatoes around on his plate.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Mr. Connor says, pointing his fork at Casey. “We don’t use that kind of language around your mother.”

“Dad, I’m going to be 18 in two weeks.” Casey insists as he glances up. “How are you guys ever going to let me go to college if you won’t even let me spend the night at a friend’s house?”

“This isn’t just a night, Casey.” his dad protests. “It’s a whole weekend.”

I allow myself a moment to grin at Casey swearing. Go Case! I wipe it off my face a moment later.

“Look, I didn’t really expect this to be a big problem.” I say. “I suggested it because we can trash my place and no one will care.”

Jesus, NO ONE is getting laid in this house.

Except Casey. Hee hee hee.

Mr. Connor glares at me. “Define ‘trash’.” he says. “Are you into drugs, Zeke?”

“Dad!” Casey cries.

I roll my eyes. What the hell? Does he think I’m actually going to say yes?

“I smoke.” I admit. “Cigarettes. Last time I checked, that was legal if you’re over eighteen.”

Whooooo, dial back the attitude, Zeke. It gets you into trouble. Did the papers print that we killed the aliens with scat pens? Because not only was that lame, but it’s pretty incriminating in the present context.

“I won’t do it around Casey.” I add, looking Mr. Connor in the eye.

What.

A.

Dick.

Mr. Connor gives me the hairy eyeball, then glances at Casey. “We’ll think about it some more and tell you later.” he says.

Casey covers up a groan by taking a long gulp of his soda.

I sigh, then look down at my food. Maybe Casey’s dad wants to bang me too. Otherwise, this is just fucking weird. There’s overprotective, and then there’s just fucking stupid. This is just fucking stupid.

Crunch.

And this meatloaf is shit.

The rest of dinner is pretty much uneventful. Casey gets up to help his mom clear the dishes off the table and Mr. Connor glances at me again.

“So what’s your real interest in my son?” he asks.

Fortunately, I have this answer prepared. I lost sleep last night working this one out.

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Casey gets ground finer than hamburger on a regular basis at school.” I say, dropping the ‘sir’ bullshit. “After the whole school went nuts, whether you believe the whole alien thing or not, I started noticing more. So I made him a deal: I’d watch his back if he helped me pass my classes. Turns out he’s a pretty cool kid. Just between us guys, if I can get him a little action, what’s the harm, right? You were a football player. You know what it’s like.”

Mr. Connor appears to be turning this over in his head. “I’ve tried to teach him how to defend himself, you know.” he says. “He hasn’t exactly taken to it well. He and I. . .we don’t really get along that great in the first place.”

He sighs, nodding. “All right.” he says. “I’ll have a talk with Patty.”

I grin. Yes! I rule!

“Thanks, Mr. Connor.” I say. “You don’t have to worry: Casey’s not the type to do anything TOO stupid. . .although there was this one cheerleader he doesn’t want his mom finding out about. She was hot too. A total bitch, but hot.”

Mr. Connor looks surprised. “Casey. . .and a cheerleader?” he repeats. “Well. . .that’s interesting.”

He gets up from the table and heads into the kitchen. “Casey, son, why don’t you and Zeke work some more on your project?” I can hear him say. “Your mom and I need to talk.”

Casey comes out of the kitchen a moment later, frowning at me. “Cross your fingers.” he says.

“Me and your dad bonded.” I brag quietly. “But we were told to work on our project more, and for once I’m being obedient. Come on.”

I head upstairs, scheming. I hadn’t expected Casey’s dickbreath dad to be the weakness in the overprotective parent armor, but I’m getting definite ‘please get my son laid’ vibes.

Casey follows me, a stunned expression on his face. “You and Dad bonded?” he repeats. “Do I even want to know over what?”

“Guy stuff.” I say with a grin. “Delilah finally came in handy.”

“Oh.” Casey says. “Well that’s good.”

He grins. “So you think I’ve got a good shot of being allowed to stay the weekend with you?”

“That depends on how good your dad is at talking your mom into things.” I admit as I practically bounce into Casey’s room. Should I tell Casey I hinted at getting him laid. . .but didn’t say by who? Ahhhhhhahahahahaha that was genius!

Casey looks at me curiously. “What are you so excited about?” he asks, sounding amused. “Dad’s managed to talk Mom out of sending me to a shrink a number of times. . .”

“Then we’re sailin’.” I say. “See, basically, by hanging around me, your dad’s hoping you’ll become more like him. Apparently you guys don’t get along?”

I glance out toward the hallway briefly, then add, “And he’s tried to teach you to ‘defend yourself?’ God, I can only imagine how lame that was. Your parents are clueless, Case.”

“It was a disaster.” Casey says, rolling his eyes. He flops down on his bed and stares up at his ceiling. “And no, Dad and I haven’t gotten along ever since I took an interest in photography as opposed to football. See, he had this nice little dream where I would go to college on a football scholarship and end up going pro.”

He sighs. “I can’t wait for graduation.”

“Why? What happens after graduation?” I ask, sliding onto my stomach next to him. “You’ll get a scholarship without football, Case. And then you’ll get a wicked job and I can be your good-for-nothing boy toy that doesn’t do anything but look pretty and walk around the house inexplicably shirtless.”

Holy shit, did I just say that? It sounds like a pretty sweet deal, sure, but. . .maybe there’s such a thing as being too comfortable with this situation.

Casey laughs. “I like the sound of that.” he says, grinning. He turns onto his side and props his elbow on the bed, resting his head against his hand. “I move out after graduation. I’ll be free. No more parents to tell me what time I have to be home by.”

“Right after graduation?” I ask. “How’re you going to afford that?”

I grin then, and lightly touch his face, just studying his features. Damn he’s pretty. Delilah was probably jealous that he’s prettier than her. Ha ha. Bitch.

“I don’t know.” he says, sighing. “I’ve got a little money saved up. I worked as a part-time photographer for the newspaper during the summer.”

He scowls. “My parents made me quit when school started though.” he mumbles. “They didn’t want anything interfering with my schoolwork.”

He leans into my touch eagerly.

“Except football and girls.” I add cheekily, then slide my hand down to gently hold his chin. “I want a picture of you. Can you get me one?”

He blushes. “Yeah, probably.” he says. “There’s a candid shot of me in the yearbook staff room. We were goofing off one day and somebody snapped a picture of me.”

“Perfect.” I say, then kiss him softly. “Maybe you can show me how to take pictures so I can get more of you.”

I blink slowly, painful realization bubbling into my expression. See, this is why I don’t get seriously involved with people: I start to obsess almost immediately. I try to fight it, but when I fall, I fall hard, and I’m definitely falling for Casey. If he were a girl, things would be perfect.

Actually, if he were a girl, there’s no way his parents would even consider letting him stay at my place for the weekend. Hmm.

He grins, returning the kiss. “I’d like that.” he says.

He studies my face for a few moments and then frowns slightly. “What?” he says. “What’re you thinking about, Zeke?”

“How well do you think you know me, Case?” I ask pointedly, looking at him intently.

He blinks. “Fairly well enough.” he says. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I know you completely, inside and out, but there are a few less blanks than before.”

He looks at me curiously. “Why?”

“Do you think you can trust me?” I ask instead of answering his question. “Be honest.”

“Yes.” he says, nodding. “Absolutely.”

“Tell me something then.” I urge him, trying to be as persuasive as possible. “Something you don’t want anyone else to know. Something that’s just our secret.”

He bites his lip, looking thoughtful for a moment. Then he swallows and licks his lips nervously.

“Okay.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I had my first kiss when I was 12. I went to stay with my aunt for the summer.”

I shift my position eagerly, listening intently.

“Was it your aunt?” I ask, then grin roguishly. “That’s kinda hot.”

“No.” he says, blushing. “It was my cousin. We’d both read Virginia Woolf’s book, ‘Orlando,’ and were curious about. . .things.”

He clears his throat. “It was, by the way, NOT a book we were supposed to be reading. My aunt had a copy and we, um, borrowed it.”

“You kissed your cousin!?” I hiss, admittedly stunned. It’s pretty obvious. “No WAY! What kind of ‘things?’ I haven’t read that book.”

“Shhhh, not so loud.” Casey hisses, glancing toward the door worriedly. “The book is basically. . .well, let’s put it this way. When the book starts out, the main character, Orlando, is a man. By the time the book ends, he’s a woman.”

“Okay.” I say with a nod. Sounds like a pretty good book, actually. “Sorry babe. You’re getting me hot thinking about you making out with your cousin.”

Casey blushes. “It is a good book. You should read it.” he says. “Plus my aunt had other. . .interesting books in her collection. More, um, erotic stuff.”

“We didn’t really do much.” he says, shrugging. “But it did make us curious.”

“Okay okay, what DID you do?” I urge, wriggling excitedly. “Don’t tease me TOO much, Case. I’m gonna mess myself up!”

“We kissed.” Casey says, blushing brightly. “And there was some heavy petting involved. We were kids. It’s embarrassing now.”

“Fucking Christ that’s hot.” I gasp, suddenly looking at Casey in a whooooooooole new light. He groped his fucking cousin! Holy shit!

Casey turns red and looks at me kind of funny. “You really think that’s hot?” he says, giggling a little. “I mean, you’re not just saying that because. . .you know. . .to make me feel better?”

I grab his hand and press it into my lap. Of course, there’s a fair bit of resistance there.

“You tell me.” I say seriously, staring into those irresistible blue eyes. “I get off on kink.”

He gets quiet and stares at me wide-eyed. “We. . .um. . .better. . . My parents. . . Um. . .you. . .that’s. . .hot.”

He squeezes his hand a little.

I know that look. I’ve seen it on dozens of girls’ faces. He wants to play it that way, huh? I’m the predator, he’s the prey? I can do that, I guess, but that’s not how I want him to see me. That’s part of the bullshit. I guess he can have it for now though.

I start into the old tired ‘do you get off on kink, too’ line, but I stop before the first word comes out. I falter, blink rapidly, look away and actually blush a little.

Shit, a guy’s got his hand in my lap. And I’ve got a boner from it. Well, I’ve got a worse boner from it, anyway.

I clear my throat self-consciously.

Casey immediately jerks his hand back. “What?” he asks self-consciously. “We don’t, um, we don’t have to do this. I mean my parents could walk in at any second.”

He moves to the foot of the bed before I stop him. He grabs a book, opens it and tries to read it. It’s upside down.

I laugh as I realize that. “Casey, I don’t remember the last time I felt this good. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend quite like you. Your book’s upside down, by the way.”

He smiles, looking a little embarrassed as he puts down the book. “Friend is good.” he says. “I can totally relate to that, you know. The bit about not remembering the last time you felt this good. I’m glad we’re friends, Zeke.”

I touch his cheek softly, studying his face again. I don’t think that will ever get old. I shake my head, marveling at him. He’s gorgeous in an androgynous way, but that’s not what I’m so drawn to, really. I think he actually CAN relate to me.

“Case. . .” I breathe, then start moving in slowly to kiss him. I immediately abort the mission, however, when I hear creaking on the stairs.

“Parents!” I hiss as I snatch up another book and slide onto the floor. Can’t sit on the bed. Two guys sitting on a bed together looks gay.

Casey looks panicked for a moment, then grabs his book and flips it open. “Right then. . .” he says, skimming down a page.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by it opening and Casey’s father poking his head inside.

“Hi Dad!” Casey says, smiling.

His dad pushes the door open, revealing his mother standing behind him. “We’ve been talking, Casey.” he says.

“Hey.” I say, trying to sound as hetero as possible. I keep my head in the book, only glancing briefly at Casey’s mom. She’s wringing her hands.

I grin, pretty sure that means she gave in. Yesssssss!

“And we’ve decided. . .” His dad glances at Casey’s mom, then back at Casey. “That you can spend the weekend at Zeke’s.”

Casey’s eyes light up. “Really?” he says, sounding excited. He looks at his mother, as if not quite believing his dad is telling him the truth.

Casey’s mom smiles thinly.

I nod slowly, smiling.

“Cool.” I say, exchanging a conspiratorially look at Mr. Connor. He’s still a dick, but I like him better now.

“You’ll eat properly, right sweetie?” Mrs. Connor asks weakly. “Even though you’re not at home.”

“Seriously, Mrs. C., I can cook.” I insist.

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” Casey insists. “If nothing else, we’ll order pizza.”

“See?” Mr. Connor says, glancing at his wife. “No worries.”

Mrs. Connor doesn’t look convinced. When Casey comes back in one piece, I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine though.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way.” I add. “It was great.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Connor says, looking perplexed. “Thank you.”

“Well, we’ll leave you two boys to your studies.” Mr. Connor says. “Casey, don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes Dad.” Casey says. “Thanks.”

Mr. Connor nods and backs out of the room.

Mrs. Connor hovers.

“Make sure you pack clean underwear, dear.” she says quickly, then leaves as well.

I let myself grin, and close the book.

“Let’s get going.” I say as I get to my feet. The heavy duty celebrating can start once we’re out of the mom zone.

My stomach makes an unhealthy noise. Oh. Right. And once I shit out this meatloaf from hell. Wow, that’s sexy.

“See? Told you there was nothing to worry about.” Casey says, grinning as he throws some clothes into a duffel bag. He makes extra sure to pack clean underwear.

He frowns as he hears the noise my stomach makes. “You okay?” he asks.

“Meatloaf’s not agreeing with me.” I say, rubbing my stomach.

</lj=cut>

Comments

[mother2012.livejournal.com]

Have I mentioned to you yet how much I love this? I've read so many Casey/Zeke, and I think every one of them has been great. So many takes on the possible relationship. But this one is a definite favorite.