Simplicity (1/1 - Casey/Stokely/Zeke)
Apr. 8th, 2003 04:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
laniew1The first of five (?) part series.
I'd love to know what everyone thinks.
TITLE: Simplicity
Author: Melanie
ARCHIVE: My site www.geocities.com/laniew1, Tweaked Fiction, and anyone else that wants it just let me know first.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing at all, least of all the characters depicted within.
There was a certain inevitability about it all Casey would tell the others time and time again. Of course that wouldn’t come for years.
For a while it would be the five of them, six when they counted Ms. Burke which they very rarely did because Ms. Burke would never become a permanent fixture.
They would go through that small amount of time paired off, and they would be more miserable and alone then they were when they were actually alone and miserable.
But that night… the night immediately following ‘Mary Beth’s’ defeat well it had only been the three of them.
Casey, Stokely, Zeke.
And they’d been happy.
They’d hobbled back to Zeke’s house, Casey and Stokely assisting him only when he swayed and almost ran into a tree. And even then he’d tried to shove their hands off, only accepting their help when he couldn’t stand from where he was collapsed on a curb.
Casey giggled as he tried to insist on hospital visits for all of them, they could all just say they were in the car when Zeke crashed it but both Zeke and Stokely had both vehemently disapproved of that. It only took a second of thought before Casey agreed and then had to sit down while he laughed. The other two just staring down at him in hazy, pained bemusement.
If he’d had any scat left after destroying Mary Beth he would have offered it up… it might have dulled the pain the others were in and let them be in as good a mood as he was.
They’d won; they… those that had existed on the outskirts of the ‘popular people’ had succeeded where the jocks and such had been helpless.
They were heroes.
It was then he realized that he was still a tad high from the scat Zeke had forced him to sniff to prove his humanity. With the added realization that he didn’t even want to know how that would show up on a drug screen.
Goodbye College, hello drug rehab.
Entering Zeke’s demolished lab Stokely and Casey collapsed onto the couch. The older boy half-attempting to straighten out the mess that Delilah had made before giving up and collapsing on the couch between them, sighing heavily as he touched his forehead. He stared at his fingers as he saw the red.
Blood, he laughed harshly to himself as he tried to get up the energy to move and clean up his wounds, offer supplies to clean up Casey’s and Stokely’s.
The ambition to do so didn’t come though and his head flopped back onto the couch, his eyes closing momentarily before he felt Stoke’s head drop down onto his shoulder. He stiffened slightly in response but her head didn’t move and he forced himself to relax when his muscles screamed their protest.
Both turned their heads slowly as Casey continued to giggle to himself. The sight brought a whisper of a smile to his lips… it seemed the harder Casey tried to restrain himself the more he seemed to find everything just hilarious.
Zeke wished he could do that.
“How long…?” Stokely had murmured her eyes half shut as she sat there. Zeke’s arms stretched out along the backside of the couch; touching her shoulder slightly he was a warm, comforting presence beside her. For the moment she didn’t even wish he was Stan.
“Sniffed twice in less than a couple hours… maybe another hour or so,” Zeke’s voice rumbled in her ear tiredly.
“Can we just shoot him instead? Or knock him out? He’s making my head hurt worse.”
Casey popped to his feet a grin on his face, “How ‘bout aspirin?”
“Aspirin? I’m thinking I need something more like heavy narcotics,” Zeke muttered.
“It’s too bad that Del ruined everything, you could just make more… whatever…” Casey grinned, waving his hands at the mess on the floor before them.
“Sure Case… mixing narcotics with a head wound is the smart thing to do after all.”
The younger boy shrugged, obviously ignoring the sarcasm in the other boys voice. It was then that Zeke realized that Casey had probably had years to armor himself against comments that would normally be hurtful to anyone else.
Allowing himself to relax further he felt Stokely doing the same next to him and if he could just get rid of the throbbing in his head he might actually sleep some.
The touch of Casey’s hand on his forehead caused his eyes to open into slits and he realized belatedly that Casey had wet the towel that he’d washed his hands with earlier and was studiously cleaning his head wound.
“You know this might need stitches,” he mused with a laugh. “You got a needle and thread?”
“It’s fine Case…”
“You don’t trust me?” Casey’s face fell and Zeke could swear that his bottom lip was trembling, eyes filling with tears.
“Now you did it,” Stokely murmured next to him.
“Not when you’re high no,” Zeke said as diplomatically as he could.
“Oh… well,” Casey shrugged. “I’d feel the same I guess,” he smiled a beatific smile as Zeke allowed his eyes to close only for them to slam open when he felt Casey press warm lips to his forehead.
Staring at him Zeke realized that Casey had turned away from him and was now repeating the cleaning that he had done for Zeke on Stokely. Identical kiss to her forehead before he turned away, almost skipping back to the sink.
Stokely glanced over at him before she shrugged, winced and allowed her eyes to close. “Drugs,” she muttered.
******************************************************************************
There were moments when Zeke hated his life, hated the role that he’d forced himself into.
It was his fault after all. And he was forced to remember that every time he saw either of them.
That night haunted him. It had been about two when they’d stumbled, en masse up the stairs to his room. Zeke shedding his shirts and pants, collapsing face down in the middle of his bed. Casey and Stokely doing the same.
The fact that they were practically three strangers sleeping semi-naked in close proximity to one another never even figured into the picture.
The three of them had faced something that had forged a bond between them. They might not have been friends before but they were friends now… whether or not they remained friends in the light of morning had remained to be seen.
Memories of that night bubbled to the surface at the slightest thing.
Stan’s hands wrapped around Stokely’s hips pulling her close to him reminded him of doing that same exact thing. As willingly as she moved into Stan’s arms, she’d willingly moved into his, into Casey’s. And she’d sighed both their names as they touched her, as she touched them, as they touched each other.
He had to physically restrain himself from pulling Stan away from her, from hitting the other male for touching what was his.
And it wasn’t just Stokely that fueled this primitive reaction of fury.
When he saw Delilah lean over Casey’s shoulder, touch his face; kiss his lips he could see Casey’s face that night as he did the same. Could feel his touch like a whisper over his skin as Casey had arched up to him. Mouth moving urgently against his, writhing against him and Stokely as they’d taken turns tormenting him, before Stoke’s and Casey had turned the table and began tormenting him in return.
Now Delilah touched him like he was her property and all Zeke wanted to do was slap her away… and he didn’t care that she was a woman.
She didn’t deserve Casey, just like Stan didn’t deserve Stokely. They’d spent the bulk of their high school years belittling the two and now they clung to them like they were things they were owed.
Of course if he thought too much about it Zeke would be reminded that he didn’t deserve them either. He’d been just as careless with their emotions, with their feelings. That morning after should have been beautiful and bright… instead he’d woken up in pain and had lashed out.
They’d both stared at him horror, neither really understanding, he could remember seeing betrayal on both their faces before he’d cupped his head in his hands and told them to get out.
And they had. They’d left and proceeded to move on with their lives.
As much as they probably hated him, it was nothing compared to how much he hated himself.
He’d ruined it, ruined everything with a few careless words said in a moment of horrible pain. And he couldn’t ever take that back.
But regardless of all that they were his… staring down at his bed, the sheets from that night still on them he knew that with a certainty that he’d never felt before that was true.
He hadn’t touched anything in the room, on one chair Stoke’s black sweater still lay, the t-shirt that Casey had been wearing under his dress shirt next to it.
The sheets on the bed so he could lay there and remember. Their scents were fading on his sheets, soon they would be gone, but for the moment they were there and he could wrap them around himself and at least sleep. Once they were gone though he would have only his memories unless he could figure out a way to make this right.
He knew that they hadn’t told Stan or Delilah anything about that night. Knew that because the other two members of their small group didn’t attempt to cut him out of their significant others lives. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought that Casey and Stokely had forgotten all about that night.
But they hadn’t, and the only thing that kept him moving, kept him plotting to make things right was the hazy desire he could see whenever he couldn’t restrain himself from touching one of them.
It was always quickly masked but was there nonetheless.
Friday night was game night… or poker night since that was what they actually played. The five of them would all gather together, tell jokes, play cards and just celebrate being alive.
But this week, Zeke smiled to himself as he started stripping the sheets from the bed.
This week things were going to change. This week Casey and Stokely were going to remember that they were his; he wouldn’t chase them away with cruel words this time… this time Saturday life would go on.
The way it should have the first time.
Dumping his armful of sheets into the laundry basket he allowed his smile to grow.
He had planning to do.
I'd love to know what everyone thinks.
TITLE: Simplicity
Author: Melanie
ARCHIVE: My site www.geocities.com/laniew1, Tweaked Fiction, and anyone else that wants it just let me know first.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing at all, least of all the characters depicted within.
There was a certain inevitability about it all Casey would tell the others time and time again. Of course that wouldn’t come for years.
For a while it would be the five of them, six when they counted Ms. Burke which they very rarely did because Ms. Burke would never become a permanent fixture.
They would go through that small amount of time paired off, and they would be more miserable and alone then they were when they were actually alone and miserable.
But that night… the night immediately following ‘Mary Beth’s’ defeat well it had only been the three of them.
Casey, Stokely, Zeke.
And they’d been happy.
They’d hobbled back to Zeke’s house, Casey and Stokely assisting him only when he swayed and almost ran into a tree. And even then he’d tried to shove their hands off, only accepting their help when he couldn’t stand from where he was collapsed on a curb.
Casey giggled as he tried to insist on hospital visits for all of them, they could all just say they were in the car when Zeke crashed it but both Zeke and Stokely had both vehemently disapproved of that. It only took a second of thought before Casey agreed and then had to sit down while he laughed. The other two just staring down at him in hazy, pained bemusement.
If he’d had any scat left after destroying Mary Beth he would have offered it up… it might have dulled the pain the others were in and let them be in as good a mood as he was.
They’d won; they… those that had existed on the outskirts of the ‘popular people’ had succeeded where the jocks and such had been helpless.
They were heroes.
It was then he realized that he was still a tad high from the scat Zeke had forced him to sniff to prove his humanity. With the added realization that he didn’t even want to know how that would show up on a drug screen.
Goodbye College, hello drug rehab.
Entering Zeke’s demolished lab Stokely and Casey collapsed onto the couch. The older boy half-attempting to straighten out the mess that Delilah had made before giving up and collapsing on the couch between them, sighing heavily as he touched his forehead. He stared at his fingers as he saw the red.
Blood, he laughed harshly to himself as he tried to get up the energy to move and clean up his wounds, offer supplies to clean up Casey’s and Stokely’s.
The ambition to do so didn’t come though and his head flopped back onto the couch, his eyes closing momentarily before he felt Stoke’s head drop down onto his shoulder. He stiffened slightly in response but her head didn’t move and he forced himself to relax when his muscles screamed their protest.
Both turned their heads slowly as Casey continued to giggle to himself. The sight brought a whisper of a smile to his lips… it seemed the harder Casey tried to restrain himself the more he seemed to find everything just hilarious.
Zeke wished he could do that.
“How long…?” Stokely had murmured her eyes half shut as she sat there. Zeke’s arms stretched out along the backside of the couch; touching her shoulder slightly he was a warm, comforting presence beside her. For the moment she didn’t even wish he was Stan.
“Sniffed twice in less than a couple hours… maybe another hour or so,” Zeke’s voice rumbled in her ear tiredly.
“Can we just shoot him instead? Or knock him out? He’s making my head hurt worse.”
Casey popped to his feet a grin on his face, “How ‘bout aspirin?”
“Aspirin? I’m thinking I need something more like heavy narcotics,” Zeke muttered.
“It’s too bad that Del ruined everything, you could just make more… whatever…” Casey grinned, waving his hands at the mess on the floor before them.
“Sure Case… mixing narcotics with a head wound is the smart thing to do after all.”
The younger boy shrugged, obviously ignoring the sarcasm in the other boys voice. It was then that Zeke realized that Casey had probably had years to armor himself against comments that would normally be hurtful to anyone else.
Allowing himself to relax further he felt Stokely doing the same next to him and if he could just get rid of the throbbing in his head he might actually sleep some.
The touch of Casey’s hand on his forehead caused his eyes to open into slits and he realized belatedly that Casey had wet the towel that he’d washed his hands with earlier and was studiously cleaning his head wound.
“You know this might need stitches,” he mused with a laugh. “You got a needle and thread?”
“It’s fine Case…”
“You don’t trust me?” Casey’s face fell and Zeke could swear that his bottom lip was trembling, eyes filling with tears.
“Now you did it,” Stokely murmured next to him.
“Not when you’re high no,” Zeke said as diplomatically as he could.
“Oh… well,” Casey shrugged. “I’d feel the same I guess,” he smiled a beatific smile as Zeke allowed his eyes to close only for them to slam open when he felt Casey press warm lips to his forehead.
Staring at him Zeke realized that Casey had turned away from him and was now repeating the cleaning that he had done for Zeke on Stokely. Identical kiss to her forehead before he turned away, almost skipping back to the sink.
Stokely glanced over at him before she shrugged, winced and allowed her eyes to close. “Drugs,” she muttered.
There were moments when Zeke hated his life, hated the role that he’d forced himself into.
It was his fault after all. And he was forced to remember that every time he saw either of them.
That night haunted him. It had been about two when they’d stumbled, en masse up the stairs to his room. Zeke shedding his shirts and pants, collapsing face down in the middle of his bed. Casey and Stokely doing the same.
The fact that they were practically three strangers sleeping semi-naked in close proximity to one another never even figured into the picture.
The three of them had faced something that had forged a bond between them. They might not have been friends before but they were friends now… whether or not they remained friends in the light of morning had remained to be seen.
Memories of that night bubbled to the surface at the slightest thing.
Stan’s hands wrapped around Stokely’s hips pulling her close to him reminded him of doing that same exact thing. As willingly as she moved into Stan’s arms, she’d willingly moved into his, into Casey’s. And she’d sighed both their names as they touched her, as she touched them, as they touched each other.
He had to physically restrain himself from pulling Stan away from her, from hitting the other male for touching what was his.
And it wasn’t just Stokely that fueled this primitive reaction of fury.
When he saw Delilah lean over Casey’s shoulder, touch his face; kiss his lips he could see Casey’s face that night as he did the same. Could feel his touch like a whisper over his skin as Casey had arched up to him. Mouth moving urgently against his, writhing against him and Stokely as they’d taken turns tormenting him, before Stoke’s and Casey had turned the table and began tormenting him in return.
Now Delilah touched him like he was her property and all Zeke wanted to do was slap her away… and he didn’t care that she was a woman.
She didn’t deserve Casey, just like Stan didn’t deserve Stokely. They’d spent the bulk of their high school years belittling the two and now they clung to them like they were things they were owed.
Of course if he thought too much about it Zeke would be reminded that he didn’t deserve them either. He’d been just as careless with their emotions, with their feelings. That morning after should have been beautiful and bright… instead he’d woken up in pain and had lashed out.
They’d both stared at him horror, neither really understanding, he could remember seeing betrayal on both their faces before he’d cupped his head in his hands and told them to get out.
And they had. They’d left and proceeded to move on with their lives.
As much as they probably hated him, it was nothing compared to how much he hated himself.
He’d ruined it, ruined everything with a few careless words said in a moment of horrible pain. And he couldn’t ever take that back.
But regardless of all that they were his… staring down at his bed, the sheets from that night still on them he knew that with a certainty that he’d never felt before that was true.
He hadn’t touched anything in the room, on one chair Stoke’s black sweater still lay, the t-shirt that Casey had been wearing under his dress shirt next to it.
The sheets on the bed so he could lay there and remember. Their scents were fading on his sheets, soon they would be gone, but for the moment they were there and he could wrap them around himself and at least sleep. Once they were gone though he would have only his memories unless he could figure out a way to make this right.
He knew that they hadn’t told Stan or Delilah anything about that night. Knew that because the other two members of their small group didn’t attempt to cut him out of their significant others lives. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought that Casey and Stokely had forgotten all about that night.
But they hadn’t, and the only thing that kept him moving, kept him plotting to make things right was the hazy desire he could see whenever he couldn’t restrain himself from touching one of them.
It was always quickly masked but was there nonetheless.
Friday night was game night… or poker night since that was what they actually played. The five of them would all gather together, tell jokes, play cards and just celebrate being alive.
But this week, Zeke smiled to himself as he started stripping the sheets from the bed.
This week things were going to change. This week Casey and Stokely were going to remember that they were his; he wouldn’t chase them away with cruel words this time… this time Saturday life would go on.
The way it should have the first time.
Dumping his armful of sheets into the laundry basket he allowed his smile to grow.
He had planning to do.