Shiner - C/Z (Preslash PG-13)
Sunday, July 12th, 2015 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serai.
Shiner
by Serai
Ten o’clock is a free period for Zeke, so he uses it to restock and take care of any other errands. Today, he’s passing by the old, disused tennis courts when he sees Casey Connor sitting on the sheltered ledge along the walkway to the storage units. He’s hunched over in a posture Zeke has come to associate with the guy: legs pressed together, arms drawn in and hands at his face. The hand that’s there now has blood between two fingers, and Zeke slows to look closer. Casey lowers his hand, looks at it, and mutturs fuck harshly. Zeke grins. That’s something he’s seen before too.
Casey touches his cheek tentatively. Whatever happened, Zeke must have just missed it, because the swelling flesh around his eye hasn’t gone dark yet. Probably Gabe, the fucking troglodyte. But Casey isn’t crying, and that completes Zeke's image of him, he realizes. Casey never cries, he just gets mad. He seethes and mutters curses, and then gets up and keeps going. Hm. That’s... interesting.
Zeke goes down to the cafeteria and picks up a cup he then fills with ice at the soda machine. When he gets back to the tennis courts, Casey is still there, now holding a wad of tissue to the cut crowning the blow. He’s so wrapped up in his anger he doesn’t even see Zeke walk right up and stand next to him. After a moment, he lowers the tissue and starts violently when he realizes he’s not alone. Zeke presses back a smile and offers the cup.
“Zeke,” Casey says nervously. He has the smarts not to look around, but Zeke can tell he’s doing it peripherally. But he relaxes quickly, knowing Zeke isn’t interested in fucking with him, though the words so far will always follow a thought like that.
“Here,” Zeke says, indicating the ice. “Thought you wouldn’t want to walk into Furlong’s class with a shiner.” He waits.
Casey looks at the cup and then at him, suspicious. It’s a little annoying, but Zeke has to admit the guy has good reason. He’s never hurt Casey, but he’s never helped him either. Must be tough, never knowing what anyone will do. Never knowing if you’re going to have a split lip from one moment to the next.
“Thanks,” Casey murmurs hesitantly. He takes the cup and scoops out some ice, then holds it to his face. Zeke sits at Casey’s other side to look at him. He has his chance while Casey is preoccupied with how to handle the raw ice in his hand. Casey’s eyes are weird-looking, but they’re also unusually bright blue. His skin is delicate, and his lips are swollen with an almost plum color from his chewing on them in frustration. Zeke looks at them and at the frosting of sweat along Casey’s hairline and neck.
“You know you look like a girl, Casey?” he asks.
“Fuck you, Zeke,” Casey spits out, glaring.
“Watch your mouth,” Zeke answers back casually.
“I can say what I want,” Casey fires back. There it is, that leap to anger. It’ll either be the reason Casey survives, or the reason he’s pounded into the dust. Zeke thinks either would be interesting, but for now, he wants Casey around. He leans closer, and Casey pulls his head back in apprehension.
“You’re right,” Zeke murmurs, his voice low now. “I’ll watch it for you.” He grabs Casey by the back of his neck, pulls him in quick and kisses him. Casey bucks and immediately starts trying to push Zeke away, but he’s too strong. Zeke works the kiss carefully, pulling back and pushing in again, running his tongue along Casey’s lips, and after a bit Casey stops struggling, though he doesn’t relax. Zeke presses in closer, leaning over him, and keeps going until he feels the tension drain out of Casey’s jaw and shoulders. He pulls back then, just enough to whisper “See you in class” into Casey’s open mouth. Casey averts his gaze, and Zeke gets up and strides away, smiling to himself.
Heading for calculus at the two o’clock bell, Zeke sees Casey at his locker. He locks eyes with him as he approaches, and Casey’s tense again, watchful. But that little angry spark is back too, in the set of his mouth and the knit of his eyebrows. He turns his face away as Zeke passes him, and the palpable flinch when he murmurs, “Later, Case,” feels almost like a welcome mat. Zeke makes his decision.
Yeah, this is gonna be fun.
Chapter 7 of High Contrast
Chapter 8
Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
jacked_up
Shiner
by Serai
Ten o’clock is a free period for Zeke, so he uses it to restock and take care of any other errands. Today, he’s passing by the old, disused tennis courts when he sees Casey Connor sitting on the sheltered ledge along the walkway to the storage units. He’s hunched over in a posture Zeke has come to associate with the guy: legs pressed together, arms drawn in and hands at his face. The hand that’s there now has blood between two fingers, and Zeke slows to look closer. Casey lowers his hand, looks at it, and mutturs fuck harshly. Zeke grins. That’s something he’s seen before too.
Casey touches his cheek tentatively. Whatever happened, Zeke must have just missed it, because the swelling flesh around his eye hasn’t gone dark yet. Probably Gabe, the fucking troglodyte. But Casey isn’t crying, and that completes Zeke's image of him, he realizes. Casey never cries, he just gets mad. He seethes and mutters curses, and then gets up and keeps going. Hm. That’s... interesting.
Zeke goes down to the cafeteria and picks up a cup he then fills with ice at the soda machine. When he gets back to the tennis courts, Casey is still there, now holding a wad of tissue to the cut crowning the blow. He’s so wrapped up in his anger he doesn’t even see Zeke walk right up and stand next to him. After a moment, he lowers the tissue and starts violently when he realizes he’s not alone. Zeke presses back a smile and offers the cup.
“Zeke,” Casey says nervously. He has the smarts not to look around, but Zeke can tell he’s doing it peripherally. But he relaxes quickly, knowing Zeke isn’t interested in fucking with him, though the words so far will always follow a thought like that.
“Here,” Zeke says, indicating the ice. “Thought you wouldn’t want to walk into Furlong’s class with a shiner.” He waits.
Casey looks at the cup and then at him, suspicious. It’s a little annoying, but Zeke has to admit the guy has good reason. He’s never hurt Casey, but he’s never helped him either. Must be tough, never knowing what anyone will do. Never knowing if you’re going to have a split lip from one moment to the next.
“Thanks,” Casey murmurs hesitantly. He takes the cup and scoops out some ice, then holds it to his face. Zeke sits at Casey’s other side to look at him. He has his chance while Casey is preoccupied with how to handle the raw ice in his hand. Casey’s eyes are weird-looking, but they’re also unusually bright blue. His skin is delicate, and his lips are swollen with an almost plum color from his chewing on them in frustration. Zeke looks at them and at the frosting of sweat along Casey’s hairline and neck.
“You know you look like a girl, Casey?” he asks.
“Fuck you, Zeke,” Casey spits out, glaring.
“Watch your mouth,” Zeke answers back casually.
“I can say what I want,” Casey fires back. There it is, that leap to anger. It’ll either be the reason Casey survives, or the reason he’s pounded into the dust. Zeke thinks either would be interesting, but for now, he wants Casey around. He leans closer, and Casey pulls his head back in apprehension.
“You’re right,” Zeke murmurs, his voice low now. “I’ll watch it for you.” He grabs Casey by the back of his neck, pulls him in quick and kisses him. Casey bucks and immediately starts trying to push Zeke away, but he’s too strong. Zeke works the kiss carefully, pulling back and pushing in again, running his tongue along Casey’s lips, and after a bit Casey stops struggling, though he doesn’t relax. Zeke presses in closer, leaning over him, and keeps going until he feels the tension drain out of Casey’s jaw and shoulders. He pulls back then, just enough to whisper “See you in class” into Casey’s open mouth. Casey averts his gaze, and Zeke gets up and strides away, smiling to himself.
Heading for calculus at the two o’clock bell, Zeke sees Casey at his locker. He locks eyes with him as he approaches, and Casey’s tense again, watchful. But that little angry spark is back too, in the set of his mouth and the knit of his eyebrows. He turns his face away as Zeke passes him, and the palpable flinch when he murmurs, “Later, Case,” feels almost like a welcome mat. Zeke makes his decision.
Yeah, this is gonna be fun.
Chapter 7 of High Contrast
Chapter 8
Cross-posted to
jacked_up
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: Monday, July 13th, 2015 12:22 am (UTC)If Josh hadn't added just a touch of vulnerability to that role I'd say he was a sociopath. He's not far off.
This fic gives me shivers of anticipation.
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Date: Monday, July 13th, 2015 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: Tuesday, July 14th, 2015 11:49 pm (UTC)