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Part Six

 

Author:  kevswitchau

Pairing:  Peter Parker/Casey Connor

Genre:  AU: Faculty/Spiderman crossover

Rating:  M

Warnings:  Sexual tension, drugs, language, angst, violence.

Disclaimer:  I don’t own the rights to these characters, I’m just playing with them.

Note: I don’t own ‘em, I don’t own the characters, but I’d like to!

 

 

And I’d give up forever to touch you

‘cause I know that you feel me somehow

Iris  (The Googoo Dolls)

 

 

Peter felt content.

 

For the first time in a long time, he was slowly rising out of a deep, dreamless sleep with a feeling of serenity. He shifted slightly and felt something in his arms. Something soft and warm, and he remembered, and pulled Casey closer, curling his body around so that Casey nestled spoon-like against him.

 

“Casey.”

 

Peter pushed the sound away because it intruded. He buried his face into Casey’s unruly mop of hair and inhaled the scent of him. He lightly kissed the back of Casey’s neck.

 

“Casey.”

 

Casey stretched and made an irritable noise, threading his arms through Peter’s and nestling closer.

 

“Casey, damn it, get up now!”

 

Peter’s eyes burst open and he sat up, pulling away from Casey like he’d been burned. Casey sat bolt upright, eyes wide, and looked at his mother who was standing in the doorway.

 

“Mom...”

 

“Get dressed. Breakfast is ready.” She looked at them both, her face unreadable, and left, closing the door softly behind her.

 

Peter turned to Casey, who was staring at the door grimly.

 

“Jesus Case...”

 

Casey set his jaw. “It’s okay.”

 

“But...”

 

Casey turned to Peter, his face hard. “It’s okay Pete...let’s...let’s just get dressed, okay?”

 

They crawled from the bed and began to get dressed in silence. Peter tugged on his jeans and turned to see Casey pulling his pyjama top off over his head.

 

“Oh fuck me,” Peter breathed. 

 

Casey’s body was a mass of bruises. Like a peach that had been thrown down a flight of stairs, it seemed as though there was not an inch of him unmarked. The bruises from yesterday were black, the colour showing through angrily against the older ones which ranged from jaundiced yellow to purple.

 

Peter felt his throat constrict. Rage. Sometimes it frightened him how quickly the Rage came. He walked over to where Casey was standing and sat on the side of the bed.

 

“Casey,” he whispered, his eyes locked on the rainbow of colours marking Casey’s white skin. “Casey”. When he reached his hand out, he noticed that it was shaking.

 

Casey stepped backwards and looked steadily at Peter. “You get used to it.”

 

Peter looked up at Casey, and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to.”

 

“Who’s going to stop them, Pete? You’ll be gone in a few days. The football’s finished, they’re sending you home. It all goes back to normal.”

 

Peter flinched. He knew Casey was right, he just didn’t want to think about it. How could he leave Casey here? But how did he have any choice? He couldn’t save everyone.

 

He watched Casey shrug into a plaid shirt and button it silently, before walking to the door.

 

“Come on man, breakfast’s getting cold.”

 

Peter stood and followed him, his stomach clenched like a stone. So much for his feeling of contentment. 

 

Casey’s parents were sitting at the table when they stepped into the kitchen. Casey’s father was reading the paper. Casey’s Mom dropped her eyes to the floor as they sat down.

 

“Dad, this is...”

 

Casey was about to introduce Peter when his father lifted his eyes from the paper.

 

“Jesus Christ boy, what happened to your face?”

 

Casey was confused for a moment. But then he remembered. Gabe’s fist smashing into his mouth. Gabe’s cigarette grinding into his cheek.

 

“I...I had a bit of trouble on my way back from...”

 

“You let yourself get beat up again.” It was a statement, not a question. His father wore a look of disgust.

 

“Dad, I didn’t let...”

 

His father shook his head. “You’ll never learn, will you? When will you stop being so pathetic?”

 

Casey looked at his father, his jaw snapped shut. Peter could feel the hurt radiating from Casey like a blast furnace. 

 

“Sir, I don’t think...”

 

Casey’s father snapped around and regarded Peter coldly. “Who the fuck are you?”

 

“I’m Peter Parker, sir,” said Peter evenly, reaching out his hand. “A friend of...”

 

“You slept here last night?” 

 

Peter took his hand back, unshaken. “Yes sir.”

 

“Where?”

 

“He was on the floor in Casey’s room, dear.” It was Casey’s mother. 

 

Peter realised that he had been holding his breath, and let it out loudly. Casey’s father continued to glare at Peter contemptuously.

 

“You’ll be late for work.” Mom to the rescue.

 

Casey’s father glanced at his watch, and stood abruptly. He picked his briefcase up from the counter and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

 

“Yeah and fuck you too,” Casey muttered, close to tears.

 

“Casey...” his mother warned, and Casey continued to stare at the table. Peter had no idea what to say, so he continued to eat.

 

“I have something I need to say to you.” Casey looked at his mother as she spoke, his teeth clenched tightly. Peter cringed. Here we go...

 

“I don’t care what you do, Casey...and I don’t care who you do it with.” She looked pointedly at Peter who flushed bright red. “But I will say this only once: you do not do it in my house, and you do not tell your father. Have I made myself clear?”

 

Peter watched Casey open his mouth to say something, change his mind, and nod instead. So this is where that whipped puppy look came from. Peter shook his head and reached for his coffee. Casey’s mother stood and moved to the kitchen door.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Peter. We won’t be seeing you here again.” She looked meaningfully at Casey just to drive her point home, and then left the room.

 

Peter swallowed the last of his coffee and turned back to Casey, who was staring at his plate. Huge, silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Peter knew that feeling well. The barely contained Rage that curled inside his body like a spring, only giving itself away when tears of frustration push themselves to the surface. Yeah. Peter had been there.

 

“Let’s get to school, Case,” he said gently, standing up.

 

Casey sat where he was for a moment, staring at the table. Peter could see his jaw clenching as he fought to control himself. Finally Casey looked up and skidded the heels of his palms up his cheeks to wipe away the tears, wincing as his hand slid over the cigarette burn. He stood, reaching for his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

 

“After you,” he said, his voice still broken as he looked at Peter.

 

Peter moved past Casey and slipped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a quick hug. Casey turned and squeezed Peter fiercely for a second. He stepped back, wiped his face again and moved towards the door.

 

Casey stopped and turned around. “Can we walk today? I don’t think I could face the bus.”

 

Peter shrugged. “Sure man, we might be late though.”

 

Casey sneered. “Fuck ‘em.”

 

“Fuck ‘em indeed,” grinned Peter, pushing Casey into the street.

 

They walked for a while in silence, each thinking about what it was going to feel like without the other. The week was nearly up, and Casey was right. Peter would be going home. Peter hoped silently that Gabe would be shell shocked enough to stay the hell away, but he also knew that with kids like Casey, when one asshole moved on there was always another one more than willing to step in and pick up where he left off.

 

“Where are you going to College?” Peter broke the silence. He didn’t want to think anymore.

 

Casey shrugged. “Away.”

 

Peter grinned at him, his eyebrow raised, and Casey giggled. “That’s as far as I’ve gone...I don’t care where I go, as long as I get away.”

 

Peter nodded. “What do you want to do?”

 

“Probably photography. I don’t really have any other interest. Or talent. How about you?”

 

Peter sighed, and suddenly he felt incredibly sad. There was no way he’d ever have a normal life. College, a nine-to-five job. It was all stuff that he could only dream about. Of course he’d try, but he had a feeling that his future was mapped out, and those little hints of normality were not part of the plan.

 

“Yeah.” He smiled at Casey. “Me too, I guess.”

 

“Hey, maybe we could...?” Casey looked at him. Oh Case, man.  Don’t go there.

 

“Yeah. Maybe.”

 

They walked in silence again.

 

“Pete...”

 

“Yeah Casey.”

 

“I...”

 

They stopped, and Casey looked at Peter. Peter could see the look on Casey’s face. It was frustration and confusion…and something else. He knew what Casey wanted to say, because he wanted to say it too. It just wouldn’t come.

 

“I know...” Peter reached out and touched Casey’s cheek lightly. He didn’t care who was watching. 

 

Casey closed his eyes, as his hand reached up and covered Peter’s, holding it against his face for a second before letting go.

 

“Me too.” Peter added. Casey opened his eyes and looked at him.

 

“Don’t go.”

 

Peter sighed. “Case...”

 

Casey turned and began walking. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t....I’m sorry.”

 

Peter followed. “You know I’d stay if I could.”

 

Casey turned and smiled at him. “I know.”

 

“It’ll be okay, Casey.”

 

Casey nodded, still smiling. “I know.”

 

The school bell rang while they were still at the end of the block. Peter and Casey looked at each other, grinned, and began to run.

 

 

Kevswitchau 2002

 

Part 7

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