Title: Invitations (Prologue)
Author: honeyandvinegar
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Rating: NC17
Synopsis: The start of a four year silence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing--all fantasy on my end.
Author's Notes: Done for my '28-Ways--Zeke' challenge in livejournal.

He hoped he wouldn't wake up. He hoped he wouldn't wake up.


Damn it. Zeke gave up and just crawled off the bed, not bothering to be slow and sneaky about it. He got to his bureau, forcing a drawer open and rooting around inside. He didn't want to look over, he really didn't.


He had to. Zeke glanced over to the bed, sighing. "Mornin'."

Casey curled his legs to his chest, smiling as he wrapped his arms around them. "Sleep good?"


"Good," Casey mumbled then yawned, his hand going to his face to cover it. He relaxed again, smiling broadly. "I'm thinking... we did a lot of boozing last night."

"Understatement," Zeke mumbled, finally finding his favorite pair of jeans.

Casey chuckled as he slipped them on. "Never knew you went 'commando'," he said.

Zeke almost groaned; great. More fucking little nuances for the kid to know about him. He didn't bother replying to this, yawning heavily himself.

Casey now stretched like a cat, his legs straightening under the sheets. "I'd say it was worth it."

"What was?" Zeke asked in monotone. Grabbing some socks he went back to the bed and slipped them on; Casey was moving closer now, making his skin tremble.

"Guess it just took a few drinks... didn't think I'd ever be in bed like that with you."

"Yea... Ditto."

"But it was very nice."

Zeke almost jumped, feeling Casey's lips on the tender skin of his hip. He moved away quickly, grumbling under his breath. Casey must have noticed the suddenness of his actions, as his voice had gone from sleepy-sultry to confused as he spoke. "Are you... okay?"

"I'm not a fuckin' faggot, Case," Zeke blurted, feeling angry as he slipped a belt tight around his waist. He dared to look over at Casey, seeing the wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights expression he wore. Zeke had never been one to evade responsibilities when it came to telling... girls... how he really felt 'the day after'. "I hope you're not expecting me to call you for boy-sex anytime soon, cos' it ain't gonna happen. 'Nuff said."

"But... you did... we did..."

Zeke rolled his eyes, going to his closet for a shirt. "Yea well, shit happens."

"Shit... happens?" Casey asked, sitting up and staring at Zeke with an incredulous frown.

"Remember how I told you I was going on a date tonight with that fine looking chick I met at the bar?" Zeke asked. Fuck, the kid's lower lip was trembling now. "Yea, the bar, Case- just turned twenty-one last week, and you're still eighteen. Nothing in common."

"What? I can't get DRUNK at some dive with you, and we're suddenly strangers?" he almost squealed out. "For... Zeke, you fucked me last night. I've never even been with a girl before..."

"Yea, big surprise," Zeke blurted without thinking. For whatever reason, he was letting Casey down harder than he had anyone else. Casey's hand rose to his mouth, shaking. "You said... last night that you..."

"I said a LOT of stupid shit last night, Casey. You'd best forget it," Zeke almost yelled. He threw one of his long sleeved shirts on hastily, angrily. "I've said a LOT of shit to girls. Girls, Casey, and you knew that before climbing into bed with me. So let's not pretend that I'm supposed to be kissing your feet here." Zeke turned away from Casey, heading for the door. He hadn't even put his hand on the doorknob before something flew by his head, crashing and sending shards of glass everywhere around him, water splashing from the obvious well that once held it. He flinched and ducked, whirling on his heels back to face Casey. "The FUCK--

"You said you LOVED me! FUCK!"

"I've said that before," Zeke seethed.

"You said it to ME!!" Casey screamed, pointing a finger at Zeke accusingly.

"To FUCK you, Casey--yea, I did."

It grew quiet a moment, Casey's eyes overflowing and streaming saltwater over his cheeks. "You sick fucking... fuck..." he said, clutching the sheet to his body as he swung himself to the other side of the bed, arms and hands shaking as they collected his clothing. Zeke turned away as he stood to dress, nearly tripping over his boxers as he slid them on.

"You'd better clean this mess up."

"FUCK you..." Casey cried, tears clogging the words in his throat.

"You break my shit, you clean it up."

Casey had dressed fast; he was in the middle of buttoning his shirt as he walked around the bed towards the door. "Never speak to me, ever again. EVER." Casey cried out, whipping the door open and almost hitting Zeke with it; he went into a fast paced walk down the hall to the stairs. Zeke stood frozen as he waited... waited...

The front door slammed, and Zeke was the biggest asshole in the world.


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