Summary:
Two survivors adjust to change.

Warning: G rated, slash/M/M

* * *

The Cumberland forest stared back at Zeke, winter white and concealing what he wanted most in its blue shadows.

He yelled, “Casey, where the hell are you? I said I’m sorry!”

Not sorry enough, his numbing ears and fingers suggested. His arm was still bleeding from the fall. Who knew a frozen stick could act just like a knife if you fell on it the right way? Now his sleeve was freezing to his skin.

Looking back down the path, the cabin was hidden from view. That made him nervous, but not nearly as nervous as knowing he had driven Casey out into the cold. Why did he keep forgetting how sensitive the guy was? Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut or at least remember that Casey wasn’t like other people? The guy was worth taking the time to be gentle with. Zeke had no idea why, there was just something there, something not present in your average asshole.

Zeke was proud of his ability to tell anyone to go the fuck on, but when it came to Casey, especially after the whole school-aliens bullshit, something in him stopped short and respected what he saw in the guy.

Frosted icicles glistened over his head. Listening for Casey’s crunch in the snow, he heard only the thud of melting ice tapping down from skeletal branches. “Why can’t I find you?” he asked, shivering, through a cloud of breath.

It was eerie, the way Casey could stay out here, hidden for hours. But there were a lot of changes in Casey; all of them could be described the same way. Eerie, that he’d gone all quiet since the aliens. Eerie, that his one assertive gesture, when the town had calmed down, was reaching out to Zeke. Survivor to survivor. From the phone call out of the blue, ‘I could use a friend, Zeke. You could too,’ to the kiss just hours ago.

All warm and comfortable in the rented cabin, they had more room than they could possibly use; three stories of beautiful oak, four bedrooms, a family room, game room with a pool table and a huge fire place, all to themselves. The kiss, shocking but not entirely unexpected, had come after Zeke’s specialty; sausage omelets and hash browns. A lazy noonday breakfast, the best kind.

They hadn’t driven up to the mountains for anything more than healthy isolation, now that their lives had taken on some normalcy again. They even had the blessing of Casey’s father, a man not too charitable with his friendliness. They had entered the cabin as friends last night, but somewhere between Casey’s first fit of morning laughter (at Zeke catching the dish towel on fire) and Zeke leaping over the coffee table to corner him against the wall, they could never be simple friends again.

It was eerie the way Casey could complicate things like that. Eerie, how he felt so easy and natural in Zeke’s arms. Like more than a flesh and blood person does, warmer, deeper. Something to be entered and enveloped by, the rest of the world be damned. How could one little guy have such a fucking gravitational pull?

Then Zeke had done it. All juiced by Casey pinned against him, Casey’s saliva on his tongue, and caught in the blistering innocence looking back at him, he let it slip, “Damn, you’re scary.”

A mistake. Casey’s smile melted and something fell behind his eyes. “You think so?” He let go of Zeke’s waist and slipped free.

It was too late to take it back. Whimsical words to anyone else, Zeke should’ve known what they’d do to Casey.

“Hey, Case. I didn’t mean it like that.”

The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees when Casey pulled on his coat and gloves. “You’re honest, Zeke. That’s what I like about you.”

“Man, don’t be like this. Things are going good, for once.”

Casey shook his head. “I’ve always been something of an alien to you, Zeke, I know. I don’t mind. But now that I’m infected… Now that I’m becoming something I’m not sure of – ”

“Don’t start that shit. None of us were infected with anything! You survived just fine, just like I did.”

Casey opened the door, letting the snow-reflected sun hit full on his face. He smiled, “Keep telling yourself that. If it makes it easier to be with me. But I feel the changes.”

“Don’t you dare go out that door.”

“I just need a walk.” He slipped out.

That was almost three hours ago. The danger of the cold was becoming real to Zeke. He’d gone after Casey right away and still hadn’t found him. His throat was hoarse from yelling. He’d turn around and go back, but he couldn’t trust Casey to return to comfort like a normal person. That was the danger of Casey Conner, and probably what had saved their lives; Casey’s strange capacity to suffer beyond necessity. The little guy was strong that way, like some fucking martyr.

Zeke was damn sure he wasn’t going back down the mountain with a dead body. “Dammit Casey, you’re ruining this!” In the quiet following his curse, he heard, “I don’t mean to.”

Soft, but clear to his left. Zeke’s confused eyes skipped across the snowy ground. There through the trees, sitting by the thinnest frozen stream, was Casey. Not as blue as Zeke would’ve thought but not too far from being snow-colored either. He approached cautiously. “Casey, please. I can’t take much more of this. Whatever’s wrong, we can work it out inside. Be as mad at me as you want. Inside.”

A weird smile played at Casey’s lips. Weird because his face, stoical in his lengthy exposure, took on the cast of a statue. But warmth filled his voice and Zeke noticed that he wasn’t even shivering. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Give me your arm. I know you’re hurt.”

“Casey, dammit.”

“I’m not leaving until you give me your arm.”

Well, damn. What choice did he have? He thrust his arm out. Casey took off his gloves and bent forward, gathering snow. He felt along Zeke’s sleeve, placing one slender hand, packed with snow, inside. Shocked, Zeke hissed. “Fuck, Casey!”

Zeke squirmed, more concerned that Casey would get blood on him than anything else. Then a pool of heat seemed to race to the wound, followed by a moment of searing, uncontrollable itching. Casey had to grab Zeke’s other hand to keep him from scratching. “Don’t.”

Confused, Zeke stared into the depths of Casey’s pupils. Locked in silent confrontation, they remained this way, leaving Zeke to wonder at the mysteries suggested within Casey’s closed expression.

“What are you doing?”

The itching stopped. Only the exquisite stroke of Casey’s fingers remained. Without answering, Casey let him go. In a flash, Zeke whipped his jacket sleeve up. There, where the stick had broken his skin, only a light scar remained.

“What the fuck?”

Casey stood. “You’re right. It’s cold. I’m ready to go back now.”

“What did you just do?”

A shrug. “Water is special, Zeke. We don’t know how lucky we are to have it, to be made of it. Before the change, I didn’t know how special it was.”

His stare was far away, looking past Zeke, but his focus returned. “I don’t mind scary. I can be scary, but I need to know if you can handle it. If I’m alone then I’m alone. But if you’re with me, I need to know.”

Zeke rubbed his arm, not taking his eyes off Casey. What in the world had Casey been keeping from him? What had he undergone that the rest of them hadn’t?

He placed one hand to Casey’s cheek, a gesture he could not have accomplished with a straight face before now. “We’re going back. I’m with you, Casey. We’re going back to the cabin and you’re going to tell me everything that happened. Everything that you didn’t tell the police. Promise?”

Casey nodded, slipping his hand into the warmth of Zeke’s. They started back down the path.

The End