Who: Zeke and Luke When: Evening, Thursday, October 26th Where: the Anchor
Luke was having a pretty decent night. He had finished up work pretty early and headed out with a couple friends for a bite to eat. By the time they parted ways, Luke still wasn’t in the mood to drive home just yet, so he made his way to one of the bars across town. He had really only planned to have a drink or two and then get home in case Jade needed something, but he was talked into playing a couple games of pool, and he was making pretty decent cash beating those who decided to challenge him. The bar was loud and boisterous, Luke being part of the noise himself, and he was finishing off another beer before motioning to the bartender from the pool table to get him another.
He hadn’t noticed Zeke come into the bar, but then, Luke hadn’t noticed much of anything for the past thirty minutes or so. He was nicely buzzed and feeling pretty good and he had about a hundred bucks stashed in his pocket from pool. He needed to get home soon, but he kept telling himself one more beer and he’d be out of there.
Zeke was in a mood tonight. Maybe it was the fact that it wasn’t fucking Friday yet, maybe it was the rain that had drenched him on his way into the bar, maybe it was something else entirely. He didn’t know and didn’t care. He’d been drinking for a while but wasn’t too drunk to function yet; he was on his last cold one before he cut himself off. Luke Bradford, he noticed, should have cut himself off four brews ago judging by his behavior. Asshole. The guy bugged him and he also didn’t want to examine the reasons why that was. Bottle in hand, he wandered over to the pool table where Luke was holding court. Standing slightly behind him and to his left, he watched, figuring there’d be some smartass comment forthcoming when the blond noticed him.
Buzzed or not, Luke had always been able to tell when someone was behind him. It was that whole presence thing, and he peered over his shoulder to see Zeke standing there. He was both surprised and yet... not. It was a strange feeling, but not one he was going to put a lot of thought into. Luke's brows rose and he grinned as he picked up his bottle of beer to take another sip. "You looking to play?" he asked, thinking that would be the perfect way to cap off the night - taking some of Zeke Miller's money.
Zeke felt the subtle sense of something clicking into place, although he couldn’t have said what. Luke had been the cause of much eye rolling and trash talking in high school, and sometimes Zeke had even slipped down a different hall to avoid him… but right now he didn’t seem that bad. It might have just been because the blond hadn’t immediately told him to fuck off, but what did it matter? It was raining like a bastard outside, and what else did he have to do? “Let’s do it,” he said, reaching for a pool cue. “You ready to get your ass whipped?”
“Only by a tall redhead with a nice rack,” Luke shot back as he set his beer back down and moved around the board to get the balls back into place. “So what’d you say? Fifty bucks?” He was feeling pretty good, and had some cash to spare, but sometimes it was best to start small. Win, piss Zeke off and raise the stakes a bit. He was used to hearing the ‘best two out of three?’ plea. People never learned.
“Like redheads, do you?” Zeke said, smirking, one eyebrow lifted. He moved closer to the table, cue in hand. He only had forty bucks left in his wallet now, but he didn’t think he was going to lose. Luke was definitely drunker than he was. “Alright,” he replied to the question. If he did happen to lose, he’d deal with the shortage later. Zeke was all about living in the now. He was the picture of casual as he leaned one hip against the table. “You wanna break?” Rain continued to pound down outside, making a rat-a-tat sound on the roof.
"Who doesn't like redheads," Luke muttered before moving around to get settled and in position with cue in hand. He broke easily, nailing a solid color into the corner pocket. Luke managed to sink two more before he missed and stepped back to allow Zeke room. It was a bit of a surreal feeling, playing pool with Zeke Miller, but stranger things had happened to Luke in the past. And he was just buzzed enough to not care that he was supposed to dislike Zeke. High school seemed like eons ago, even though it was impossible not to carry a little bit of those years around with him.
Zeke ended up being surprised by how damn awful he was playing. He’d figured that since Luke was mostly plastered that he’d beat him easily, but it wasn’t working out that way. He’d kept getting distracted and missing his shots (and in all honesty, at least one of those times he was distracted by the flexing of Luke’s biceps as he leaned over the table to shoot) and somehow his head wasn’t really in the game. “Fuck it,” he mumbled as Luke made the final couple of shots that secured his win. Was Zeke drunker than he’d thought he was? No. No, he felt perfectly clear-headed. Just super distracty. And now he owed Luke fifty dollars he didn’t have. That was embarrassing.
Being wasted was one of the reasons why so many people in the bar tonight had thought they could beat him and take his money. But Luke played better when he had been drinking, and the money in his pocket proved it. Grinning at his victory, Luke lifted his pool cue in victory before finishing off his last beer and turning to toss it into the nearest trash bin. “That’s fifty dollars,” he said, walking over to put his pool cue back on the rack. “I’ll take it however you’ve got it, but two twenties and a ten works for me, Miller.”
Of all the people this could have happened with, it had to be Luke. Zeke put his own pool cue away and fished out his wallet, looking through it again just in case he’d somehow been wrong and had extra money tucked away inside it somewhere. Nope. He took out the two twenties that were inside and thrust them in Luke’s direction. “I’ll have to owe you for the last bit,” he said. “I was sure I could beat a dude who’s drunk off his ass. D’you have some kind of pool playing mojo goin’ on?”
“Owe me,” Luke said, taking the twenties from Zeke with what was probably an obnoxious smirk. He pulled out the small wad of cash that had been in his back pocket and added the two bills to it before putting it away again. Somehow those two twenties felt more satisfying than any other win tonight. “You gonna write me an IOU? Make it official?” He folded his arms across his chest. “I play pool better when I’ve been drinking. And I’m not drunk off my ass, thank you very much. Sober enough to kick your ass at pool. Your mistake was betting money you didn’t even have.”
Luke Bradford was an asshole. Zeke thought it, but there was no real heat behind the thought. He’d be acting the same way if he’d won, no doubt. “I got a pen and paper out in the truck,” he drawled. “I can write you one if you want.” He’d use some choice words to do it, too. He moved a touch closer to Luke, a cynical grin edging his lips at his comment about not being drunk. “If I lit a match and put it right next to your mouth, this whole place would blow up,” he said. “But good for you, I guess. I’ll know better next time.” Who the hell was better at pool when they were drunk? Zeke thought that had been a logical mistake for him to make, at least.
"Yeah, next time you'll decline my invitation, because you know I'll kick your ass again," Luke countered. He had promised himself that this would be the last game, because he needed to get home to check on Jade. If Jade was home. Luke really had no idea anymore where his baby brother was on any given day. Luke fished around in his pockets for his keys. "But you don't have to worry about the place exploding. I'm heading out. Maybe you can sucker some other guy in here to try and win your money back, yeah?"
“Ya know what they say,” Zeke said airily. “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” How dumb would he have to be to make that exact same mistake again? His expression shifted when Luke said he was leaving. “You can’t drive,” he said, the former line of conversation forgotten. “It’s pissin’ rain out there… you’ll run off a bridge.” Or into a tree or a telephone pole. The possibilities were limitless when someone had had as much to drink as Luke had. Zeke was surprised he was even considering it, but then people often didn’t think they were as inebriated as they actually were.
"Is that what they say?" Luke's grin grew. He had his cash now, and his keys and his grin slipped a tiny bit as annoyance seeped in. "There aren't that many bridges in this town," Luke pointed out, not wanting to be lectured by Zeke Miller of all people, especially when he was feeling good. "I've driven in worse weather than this, but thanks for your concern, Miller. Have a good one." He saluted Zeke with an air of obvious sarcasm before he turned to head for the exit and into the rain.
Zeke watched Luke make his way across the room to the door and heaved a heavy sigh, knowing what he was going to have to do. Luke was one of the more annoying people on God’s green earth, but Zeke would feel terrible if he died and it could have been prevented. Luke exited and Zeke followed, squinting his eyes against the pounding rain as he got outside. Moving as quickly as he could, he reached the other man and, once he saw the glint of keys in his hand, grabbed them and stuffed them down deep in one of his front pockets. “You’re not drivin’,” he said, fully prepared for Luke to be enraged. Fuck it. He didn’t care.
While Luke could play pool wasted, his reflexes were for shit and Zeke's movements caught him completely off guard. "What the hell," he groused, too slow to snatch them back before Zeke shoved them down his pocket. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Blinking rain from his eyes, Luke stepped threateningly toward Zeke. "Give me my fucking keys." Was this some kind of bizarre game? Zeke Miller had a tendency to annoy the shit out of Luke in a rather mild way these days, but this was downright irritating.
Zeke retreating wasn’t going to be happening. His heartbeat picked up, and he didn’t even mind the driving rain that was soaking him through. He stepped closer too, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No, because you’ll fucking kill yourself,” he said, his tone almost light. “You got two choices here: you can walk home, or I’ll drive you. Your brother can bring you to get your car when it ain’t rainin’ like hell.” Zeke liked to think he’d intervene if he saw anyone he thought might come to harm trying to get home from a bar, but this was somehow extra entertaining. Why did he enjoy seeing Luke angry so much? It was a question he really hadn’t examined.
"Jesus Christ," Luke groused, not even caring that he was getting soaked right now. He could definitely walk home, if only to be stubborn. But... he couldn't really, because he couldn't quite remember where he lived. Luke thought about grabbing for his keys, but he was starting to feel a bit dizzy on his feet and he feared he would fall over or something equally as embarrassing. "Fine," he said finally, sounding more than a little put out by this entire thing. "You're such a pain in the ass, Miller." He turned and stalked to his truck, rubbing his hand over his face to wipe some of the rain from his face.
Zeke followed Luke to the truck, trying not to smile too noticeably. Despite having lost the pool game, this part of it felt like winning. Plus he was doing a good deed, he thought with a touch of self-righteousness. Luke would be pissed if he had a wreck, and his brother didn’t need to lose another family member if something worse than that happened. Fishing out his own keys, he unlocked the doors, standing by in case Luke fell on his ass trying to get in. “Yeah, I know,” he replied. “I practice every damn day.” Thunder rumbled overhead, and he wondered how much worse this storm was going to get before it was over.
Luke would have preferred Zeke driving his truck home but then that left the guy stranded. Not that Luke cared, because he didn't. He felt a little petulant, getting into Zeke's truck, but at least he was getting Zeke's seats wet and not his own. He ran his hands over his face and then up into his wet hair. Now that he was sitting, the alcohol was starting to make his head spin a little. If that didn't keep him from overdoing it the next time, having to let Zeke Miller drive him home was probably motivation enough to watch his liquor intake. "You know where I live?" Luke grumbled, once Zeke was in the truck with him.
Zeke’s hair wasn’t really long enough to get into his eyes, but he made an attempt to brush it back anyway once he was seated. Water streamed off of both of them, and he was aware his seats would be a hot mess, but whatever. He turned on the heat and started the wipers, glancing around to make sure nobody was behind him before beginning to back out. “Why would I know where you live?” he shot back. He thought he did in a vague kind of way if Luke still lived in the house he’d grown up in, but no need to admit that. Luke didn’t need to know he’d ever spared him a thought once high school was over.
Luke was deliberately not looking at Zeke, because the guy was all wet now and it made Luke uncomfortable in a way he didn’t want to analyze. It just spiked his irritation, if anything, and he tried not to slouch and scowl in his seat. He did scowl, mostly at Zeke’s question. “That’s why I asked,” Luke snapped. “Sycamore Street. Jesus, you’ve always got to be a pain in the ass. It’s like breathing to you, isn’t it?” So much for not scowling.
Zeke’s irritation was growing too… irritation along with restless feelings he didn’t want to fully identify. He shifted his position very slightly and jabbed the gas a little harder with his foot, swearing under his breath when the truck slid a couple of inches. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is,” he snapped back. “Such a pain in the ass for keepin’ you from wrecking your damn truck into a tree. Forgive me for givin’ a fucking shit if you die or not.” He was acutely conscious of how sodden his clothes were suddenly and that was even more irritating. After this event, his truck was going to smell like a very hairy, very wet dog or maybe moldy laundry, he thought.
“If you give a fuck stop being an ass,” Luke groused. He was still buzzing from the alcohol and he knew he ought to just chill out and thank Zeke for the ride, but it was Zeke, so all Luke could muster was irritation. It was like being in high school all over again. Luke ran both of his hands through his damp hair, causing the strands to stick up at various angles. “I’m not angling to fight,” Luke added, his tone not as heated as moments before. “Just always gotta feel like I need to watch my step around you. It’s annoying.”
For Zeke it was a little worse than high school because he knew more about himself than he had back then, and he had a fairly good idea why he both despised Luke and wanted to be around him at the same time. He should have just stayed clear, remained on the other side of the room tonight. He squinted at the road ahead and then made a left turn, biting at his lip at how poor the visibility was in the driving rain. “You’re always angling to fight,” he corrected, but his own tone wasn’t as sharp as it had been, either. The next words Luke said took longer to process, and Zeke found himself stealing a couple of glances in the blond’s direction as he did. “Why would you?” he asked finally, not sure why he wanted to know. Maybe because this was something different from the insults and posturing that usually came from Luke’s mouth.
If he was always angling to fight it was because Zeke purposely provoked him into it with his snarky attitude. But Luke bit back the words, staring out the window at the rain instead. It took him a moment or two to register Zeke's question and Luke's brows furrowed together before he glanced over at the guy. "Why would I what, watch my step around you? Because you make me want to punch you in the face a lot, and I don't think that's something either of us need." It was more than that, sure, but Luke wasn't so drunk that he knew he needed to keep certain things to himself. "I never know if we're gonna have a civil conversation or if you're gonna give me attitude about something, like knowing where I live."
Zeke snorted laughter. “Yeah, I guess not. High school was enough.” Not that they’d had a ton of actual physical fights, but there’d been a few. And no matter how well or poorly he’d come out in the fight, afterward he’d always had to find a way to relieve the tension it had caused in him. So fucked up. “I’ll never forget that time you head-butted me so hard I had a knot on my forehead for a week.” His tone was dry but somehow amused at the same time. Ah, memories. He had quite a few involving Luke Bradford, and he found that fact somehow embarrassing even if Luke never knew. “If I didn’t give you attitude, you’d think I was sick,” he added. No point explaining that he liked to provoke Luke to see the myriad expressions that crossed his face. That would just be stupid.
Luke shrugged. "I'm sure you did or said something to deserve it." Maybe, maybe not. Luke didn't always need an excuse to mess with Zeke. It just was what it was, although now he couldn't exactly remember why it was. Or maybe he did remember, since Zeke was sitting beside him now in an enclosed space and it didn't make much sense to pick a fight with him now. They had a long, weird history that Luke had mainly forgotten about while living away from Point Pleasant. Now that he was here taking care of Jade, all of those memories seemed to rush back to him. It made him a little uncomfortable but there wasn't much he could do about it now.
“Probably so,” Zeke said, mildly enough. There’d been reasons why he’d metaphorically flung himself against Luke constantly when they’d been in high school, of course. The outward reason had been dominance. Who was bigger, stronger, better, faster? It was a scenario played out in thousands of high schools every day. But then there was the underlying reason, the one that had never been spoken out loud or even alluded to: fascination. Desire even, at least on Zeke’s end. He tried to focus on driving, acutely aware of how the rain pounding down seemed to cocoon them away from the rest of the world, the sound of Luke’s breathing, even what Zeke fancied was the scent of his damp skin and hair.
Luke found he didn't have much to say after that. He was used to the guy arguing or making snarky comments, and now things just settled into a somewhat comfortable silence. Without the fire of his temper simmering, Luke was starting to feel tired and definitely drunk. He wondered if Jade was home, or off doing whatever his brother was doing these days. As they got close to his house, Luke shifted in his seat, feeling grumbly, but maybe a little thankful. A little. "You didn't have to drive me home, so... thanks." Was it weird that he was hoping he could get inside without tripping or falling into something? Maybe he'd go around back so Zeke wouldn't witness any embarrassment.
“Yeah, I did,” Zeke said, his tone gentle. He couldn’t help but think of Luke’s brother, whom he’d seen at a distance but had never actually met, and how the kid would feel if Luke got his dumb, drunk ass killed driving home one night. “But you’re welcome.” That might make Luke mad again, but he didn’t care. Maybe he needed that, or something, to distract himself. He turned onto Sycamore Street, making the slight uphill drive, finding he didn’t even have to ask Luke which house. He remembered it from the middle school and high school days. Had Luke had a party here one time? It might have been something else, but no point in delving too deeply into it. He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, getting out into the sheeting rain to go around to the passenger side, not sure of Luke’s ability to actually get into the house unassisted.
It probably should have made him mad, but Luke merely shrugged, too tired now to do much arguing. By the time Zeke parked in his driveway, Luke had his hand on the door handle, ready to push it open when the truck came to a stop. He blinked in the rain at the sight of Zeke standing there, probably too wasted to realize the guy had gotten out of the truck. "You're gettin' soaked," Luke told him as he shut the truck door. "And you got my keys." At least he was clear headed enough for that. He couldn't get inside without his key, unless Jade was home, but he had no idea if Jade was home and Luke didn't want to be standing on the porch and pounding on the door in the rain.
“Like I wasn’t soaked anyway,” Zeke said, unable to suppress the smile that tweaked his lips at Luke’s expression. “I could probably get wetter, but I’m not sure how.” He loved the smell of the grass, the dirt, the trees with everything waterlogged, and he couldn’t remember if he always had or if it was a fairly recent thing with his turning. He patted the pants pocket where he’d tucked Luke’s keys. “Yeah, and I’ll give ‘em to you when we’re on the porch. C’mon.” He slung an arm around Luke to assist him to the house, knowing that this could go downhill very quickly; he might go home with a black eye. Hell, maybe he just felt like taking a risk tonight.
Luke snorted, like Zeke said something incredibly funny even if he wouldn't have been able to explain what. He very nearly pushed Zeke off of him, but the brief, instinctual feeling passed quickly and Luke focused on getting one foot in front of the other, rather than enjoying the weight of Zeke's arm around him. Because he wasn't enjoying it. That's what he told himself, anyway. He did nearly stumble once they hit the stone path leading up to the porch, but Luke figured that had more to do with some of the uneven stone than the fact that he was wasted. "Need to fix that," Luke muttered, not really to Zeke, but to himself. "We there yet?" The porch was right there, but Jesus it felt like it was miles away.
Zeke wasn’t sure he’d ever been this close to Luke, not without a fight happening. It was hard to decide what to focus on: the nearness of his drenched body, the still-pouring rain, the wind, whether or not Luke’s brother was watching them from a window. He felt mildly buzzed, although not nearly enough to be impaired, and that added to the strange feelings. “Almost,” he said when the blond asked if they were there yet. “We just gotta haul ass up a couple steps. Not too challenging.” Then the porch roof would shield them from the worst of the rain, he could poke Luke’s keys in the door and get out of here. All there’d be left for him to do would be dread the upcoming full moon some more.
That seemed easy enough. Luke grunted softly as they got up the stairs and he was already imagining stripping out of his clothes and passing out in his bed. He'd need to text Jade, if the kid wasn't home already, just to make sure he was okay. Hell, there was probably a lot he needed to do, but he wasn't sure he had the brain power to do any of it. "You got my keys?" Luke asked, as if something might have happened to them between the bar and here. It was Zeke, after all, and Luke wouldn't put it past him to lose them or something, just to be a pain in the ass.
It was a mild relief to simply not have pouring rain on their heads, Zeke thought as he exhaled his breath in a long sigh. “Yeah,” he said, pulling them out of his pocket. After a couple of tries, he got the correct one into the lock and turned it. That done, he realized he still had an arm around Luke and let go, hopefully not abruptly enough that he’d fall on his ass. “Okay, so that was an adventure,” he said, his tone mildly dry. “Next time? I’m gonna win.” Never mind that he still owed Luke ten bucks. Overconfidence was in his nature.
"Don't drink so much and you might have a chance," Luke said, forgetting completely that he was the one who had been drinking too much. He felt the weight of Zeke's arm until it wasn't there anymore and Luke scowled before ambling to the couch. He flopped down, stomach first, and slipped his arm beneath the couch pillow, not caring that he was wet and his shoes were still on. But then he cracked open one eye and looked at Zeke. "You still owe me money." Because he was wasted but not so wasted that he would forget that. And he said it with a small, lazy smirk on his face.
Zeke couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Dude, fuck you. Who drove whose ass home?” Good lord, why did the guy have to look so attractive soaking wet, plastered and sprawled over the couch? Zeke shook his head at himself, still smiling. He wasn’t right, but hell, at least he knew it. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good for it. Not like you don’t know where to find me.” It wasn’t as if a town like Point Pleasant was crawling with tattoo shops. He pulled Luke’s keys out of the door and tossed them at a chair, then said, “Don’t puke on yourself.” He sketched an ironic salute and turned to walk out.
Luke grunted in response because he didn't feel coherent enough to argue with Zeke. Besides, he generally just said shit to the guy to get him riled up. It was like high school all over again, except with less punching and pushing. He heard his keys hit the chair and squinted one eye open to watch Zeke start to leave. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding slurred and hoarse. "Thanks... for driving me home." If he had been sober, he probably would have just flipped the guy the bird on his way out, but there was something in his chest that felt compelled to be semi-decent. Rationally, Luke knew it would have been stupid to drive home, and he didn't need to risk an accident or DUI. And Zeke didn't have to drive him home, but he had. "I 'ppreciate it," he muttered.
That was a surprise. Hostilities were so common between them that Zeke had to stop and think for a second on how he should act when they didn’t occur. He turned his head to glance over at Luke, one hand on the doorframe. “You’re welcome,” he said. His clothes were stuck to his body and he was definitely going to have to air his truck out somehow once it had stopped raining, but hey. It was what it was. “Later.” Stepping out onto the porch, he quietly closed the door behind him and pulled in a breath of air, then exhaled it before running across the yard to his truck.