ismenin | Casey and Zeke? The Sky is Falling in!

Hello. Yes, well, I joined a Challenge thingy, and here it is - the result. I just wanted to see how I would be writing outside the DomLijah. It's supposed to be a drabble, but that's too short a form for me. My prompt word was CAKE.

The banner we were supposed to post does not seem to have come out on my lj - who knows why. Sorry

aliensouldream and was it

honeyandvinegar? I am having a Christmas Senior Moment. My lamentable memory!

If you do not like CaseyZeke, feel free to skip, my loves! If you do - Happy CasenZeke Holidays, and here ya go!

Thanks to

ladysunrope for beta

Title: '...and Eat it!'
Author: Ismenin
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Rating: One Four Letter Word Ahead!
Summary: Casey decides to bake Zeke a Christmas cake.
Beta: Lady Sunrope
Warnings: None

Casey knew nothing about baking. He knew how to eat a cake, but that was all. The mysteries of dried fruit, and flour and frosting were beyond him. But this was his first Christmas with Zeke - the first Christmas since they had become lovers. It needed to be marked by something special.

Casey Connor was going to bake a cake.

Well, he tried. He found a recipe, and followed it carefully. The resultant mess was ignored even by the birds, hungry in the winter snow, when he'd thrown it in exasperation after his failure. He heard it thud on the snow outside - a solid, uncompromising hard-as-bricks thud that made him screw up his face, and head for the nearest store. A cake they would have. Even a store-bought one was better than nothing!

Half an hour later, Casey returned, triumphant, to his apartment. His parents, now used to the stronger willed, independent son who came back one day from Herrington High a hero, and an alien killer, had agreed to his moving out and settling in a three-roomed condo in the next block. They had both gone to visit his mother's parents for Christmas, secure, at last, in the knowledge that their son would be safe on his own - or, at least with Ezekiel. At last, Casey was free!

But free to love Zeke, who was as different from himself as it was possible to be. Zeke of the gravelly laugh, of the biting tongue and burning gaze, whose lips, tentatively touching his for the first time, had made Casey's knees collapse under him, and whose strong fingers on Casey's bare skin made him tremble like an aspen leaf.

So, this first Christmas together would be graced by a cake of Casey's fashioning - even if he had to decorate it himself. He unwrapped it and set it on the table, a chocolate confection - all the fruit ones were gone - bare and unadorned. The ready-made white frosting sat next to it, ready to be squeezed out of its bag, and there was a tiny plastic tree, some holly, and a miniature Santa Claus to put on top when he had finished his task.

Thirty minutes later, Casey Connor, his sweater, hands and face covered in white stickiness, stood back and admired his handiwork. He smiled, and hoped Zeke would like it. He put it in a box he had found, showered quickly, changed his clothing for something less gluey, and, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck, left for Zeke's, carrying his prize carefully through the snowy streets.

***

Zeke was sitting in his comfortable leather chair, reading a book Stokely had given him for Christmas. Existentialism and the Zen Experience was not his thing, but he found, to his surprise that the book was interesting, and Zeke was enjoying it in spite of himself. It passed the time, anyway, until Casey turned up. Casey.

Zeke's cheeks grew warm as he thought of the lithe, slim body. The silken skin, trembling under his hands, the soft lips, parted in eager anticipation of his kiss...

...The doorbell rang, and Zeke, throwing the book, leapt up to answer the summons.

The box Casey was holding prevented Zeke from giving his lover the embrace he wanted, so he contented himself with a quick pat on the end of a reddened nose, and indicated the table, where Casey deposited his burden with a grin.

'Hi, you!' growled, Zeke, his voice gruff with the emotion he was trying hard to suppress. Casey always made him feel marshmallow inside, but it wouldn't do to let the little fucker see it.

Casey grinned at him again. 'Hi, yourself! Miss me?'

Zeke grinned back. It was six hours since they had lain in each others arms, oblivious to the world - since the most earth shattering love-making since time immemorial. He could never get enough of Casey - to talk with, to tease, to love...

'Yeah, I missed you! Why did you rush off like that on your secret mission, dude? Was it that important?'

Zeke eyed the box, wondering what was in it that made Casey's eyes shine as he glanced at it. Casey blushed. 'Oh, just a little something for us to share later.'

Zeke held out one hand - he was never one for holding out his arms - and Casey went to him, and kissed him, properly, as he deserved. They sat on the floor in front of the fire, and spent a few minutes doing what lovers do when they have been separated for a whole six hours, on a cold Christmas Eve.

Zeke emerged from the embrace, breathless and flushed. 'Hell, Case! I need to breathe, y'know!' Casey grinned. 'Breathing is over-rated. Kissing is better,' and with that, Zeke was not going to argue.

Casey looked around the comfortable space with approval. Okay, so it was still Zeke's basement apartment, underneath his parent's pristine house, but, cleared of all the scat-making equipment - 'I've grown out of it', Zeke had said after the disposal - it was a large, cosy space, with big, soft leather chairs, a huge sofa, and warm rugs. It was a home at last, and Casey loved being there - being there with Zeke.

'See ya got the cleaning done,' Casey grinned. 'Well done!'

Zeke cuffed him gently on the shoulder, but he was smiling, too. 'Can't have our first Christmas together spoiled by last week's stale pizza crusts, now, can we, Connor?'

Laughing, it was then that Casey spotted the box behind the sofa. A big, white Fed-Ex box, the size of a small pool table. It hadn't been there when he'd left. 'Wossinthebox?' he asked.

Zeke was busy fetching two cans of soda and a packet of chips from the kitchen. 'What box?' he looked around him, puzzled, as he handed one to Casey, who, forgetting his mother's many lectures on good manners, pointed. 'That box, doofus!'

Zeke looked, and his face had a closed hard expression on it that Casey had no trouble interpreting. The Box was from A Parent.

'Which one - Mom or Dad?' Casey asked. There was no point in ignoring it. It was there.
Zeke sniffed. 'M' mother. C'mon, let's forget it. I got Independence Day out. Thought we could laugh at the pussy aliens...'

Casey snuggled up to his lover's side, and put his chin on a well-muscled shoulder. 'Nice try, Tyler. Now, wossinthebox?'

Zeke shrugged. 'Look if you like - it's nothing.' I don't care. It's only things, he thought. And things are nothing to me!

Casey, ever curious, dragged out the box. In it was a state-of-the-art CD player, a new cellphone, still boxed, six Armani shirts, a gift voucher for a thousand dollars, and another box, with the lid still taped on. Casey pulled it out.

'Wossintheboxinthebox, Zeke?' Zeke shrugged, again, and folded his arms tight. 'Open it!' he murmured, gruffly, but his eyes gazing on Casey's shining, happy face, were kind.

It was Casey's turn to grow silent. It was a Christmas cake - but such a cake as Casey had never seen. It was built like an Ice-Queen's palace, all spun sugar and hard frosting, trailed like spider's webs across the confection. It was beautiful, and a work of purest art. It still had a label on the box -'Jean-Pierre Original, New York. Never Two The Same,' and a little red sticker proclaiming - '$250.'

Casey carefully replaced the lid, and walked slowly back to Zeke, and sat beside him, not speaking, staring into the fire.

Zeke did not know what was wrong with Casey, but he knew that something was. His new self-found esteem was still only veneer-thin in places, and cracked easily. Zeke determined to draw him out.

This time he put his chin on Casey's shoulder. He could feel the tension through the boy's thin bones. 'Wossinthebox, Case?'

Silence.

'Casey?'
'Hmm?'
'Wossinthebox?'
'Nothing. It doesn't matter - it's nothing.' His voice was tight with strain.

Zeke got up and went over to it, and opened the box, pulled out the contents, and placed the cake gently on the table.

It was a gooey mess of half-dried frosting, spread unevenly over a chocolate cake, which, in defiance of all Casey's efforts, was leaching chocolate through the white. On top stood a tiny Santa, leaning precariously to one side, looking as if he was about to sit down on a fir tree - smaller than himself - that stood behind him. There were three sprigs of plastic holly, with berries, and a red and gold plastic MERRY XMAS! sign stuck in the middle.

Casey dared not look. He was sure that Zeke would laugh, and that would be that. His cake looked as if a child had made it compared to the other magnificent creation. He was stupid to have tried - Zeke would laugh, who wouldn't? It was crap. He huddled down, pulling up his knees and buried his head in them. 'I know it's crap. I was stupid. I just wanted us to have something...'

Then Zeke was sitting beside him, putting his arms around him, gathering him close. Casey raised his face, hardly daring to look. Zeke's eyes were sparkling. Damp, and sparkling, and happy.

'That...' he said, his voice so filled with sincerity, Casey had no trouble in believing every word, '...that is the most beautiful cake I have ever seen in my life. It's a cake made, and given, with love, Case - and it's beautiful...'

If Zeke did not actually add the words '...beautiful, just like you ..' they hung in the air between them, and Casey raised his face for a kiss.

Zeke, as his lips tasted the freshness and life that was Casey, thought how much happiness this man had brought to him. How wonderful it was to love, and be loved. How much pleasure they both found in simple things - walking, swimming, reading together - how full life was, when you had someone like this to share it.

'Happy Christmas, Case,' he said, when he had the breath.

The clock struck midnight. 'Happy Christmas, Zeke,' Casey grinned. 'Time for some chocolate cake!'