RPM high school AU

[drownedinlight]

 
“Jesus!” Dillon screamed looking away.

“What, are you okay?” Ziggy touched his arm, and when Dillon looked up, a pair of sweat pants were slung around his hips.

“If we should ever change in the same space of a hundred feet, ever again, close all of the doors between us, would you?” Dillon asked. Ziggy grinned at him and gripped his hands.

“I will, I just forget—my parents raised me to be very comfortable with my body, so I kind of have no problem being naked.”

“Jesus you sound like my dad.” Dillon regretted that almost as soon as he said it, because he realized just how true it was, and suddenly, he was imagining his father in just a pair of sweat pants, and it was not pretty.

“Think of beagle puppies,” Ziggy said. Dillon opened his eyes, and realized he had been squeezing them tightly shut.

“What?”

“It’s what my dad would say to me whenever I we would watch a movie where a lot of people died and I found that it carries over pretty well to disturbing images. So just think of beagle puppies.” And that did it, the image of a beagle puppy howling over nothing leaped into his head, and suddenly, everything was okay.

“Wow, that, um, really works, but could you do me a favor and never mention that to anyone, please?” Ziggy snickered a little, and walked down the dim hall away from the bedrooms.

“What, are you afraid it would ruin your bad boy image?” he asked. He disappeared into what appeared to be a kitchen off of a dining room. “Can I get you anything?”

“My keys?” Dillon suggested, exploring a little further into the house, to find the living room, with a huge TV mounted on the wall. He sank into one of the couches there, as Ziggy walked out of the other end of where he had been, and offered Dillon a glass filled with water.

“Will this work?”

“Don’t you think we have enough water already?” Dillon asked jerking his head toward the window. Ziggy snorted into the glass he was drinking from, setting it down on one of the tables as soon as he swallowed. Ziggy, then, plopped down onto the couch, folding his feet under him.

“You never did tell me what you wanted to talk about,” Ziggy said.

“I thought I clarified pretty well, earlier,” Dillon retorted, turning to set his on glass down.

“All right then why did you try so hard?” he asked, leaning forward. Even from a bit of a distance, Ziggy felts so warm, like he radiated his heat. “Why were so curious about me that you would go through all of those people and try so hard to track me down?”

“I don’t know,” Dillon retorted, getting up to get away from Ziggy’s aura. But Ziggy stood with him, taking his hand to make him look.

“Can I try something, if you promise not to freak out that is?” Ziggy said, looking down for an instant and then back into Dillon’s eyes.

“All right, I guess,” Dillon said, his voice coming out in nothing more than a deep whisper. Ziggy put his hand, his warm hand, on Dillon’s shoulder, pulling him down a bit, before he could reach up and kiss the taller man. Dillon had never before been kissed by another man, but it felt right, and like everything about Ziggy warm, and full of…It felt like everything he had ever wanted, and that scared him, not because he did not think he was worthy of everything he had ever wanted, but Dillon really did not want to be thinking in clichés. He pulled away breathing a little hard, and Ziggy’s fingers dinging into the scruffy part of the back of his neck.

“You know, you have a nose, and breathing is generally what it’s used for,” Ziggy said with a grin. Jesus, was he always smiling? “Was that okay? Or did I freak you out?”

“I promised not to freak out, remember?” Dillon asked, taking in the situation. Apparently, kisses made some people black out, because he was holding Ziggy, and he had not quite remembered doing that.

“Your face kind of says otherwise,” Ziggy told him, brushing hair behind his ear. “C’mon let’s sit down again? Did I get it right? Do you need a moment for an epiphany or would you like to reject me horribly and hide in the bathroom until the storm lets up?”

“I would not hide in your bathroom,” Dillon retorted firmly, wondering if he could wrestle his hand out of Ziggy’s grip.

“Oh of course, how unmanly of me. Let’s see, we have a weight and training room downstairs, if you would like to lift some weights or punch a bag,” Ziggy offered. Dillon could not help it and chuckled at the accommodating offer.

“No I just…I’ve never…I’ve never liked guess before, so you’re kind of a shock, because you interest me, and you’re different than I think anyone I’ve ever met before.” Dillon looked right at Ziggy, meeting the smaller man’s eyes. “I don’t know how to feel about this.”

“I would say that you really don’t know how to think about this,” Ziggy said. “You know what you’re feeling, but you are afraid to feel it, and your brain doesn’t know quite where to file it against the cars and the martial arts.” Dillon blinked, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Anything else you would like to tell me about what I think and feel.” Ziggy stuttered for a minute, realizing his misstep, but quickly caught himself, and began to grin again.

“Maybe you just need a bigger field of data for your think and your feel to compare with,” Ziggy said, pulling him off of the couch.

“First it was let’s sit, now let’s stand, and where are you taking me?” Dillon asked.

“My room,” Ziggy said, pulling him back down the hall to the green room, where Dillon had seen him naked. In the center of the room, there was a rather large bed, which Ziggy pushed Dillon onto. Dillon thought he must of looked terrified, because Ziggy, with that damn smile of his, said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gently.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Dillon asked, as he let himself lay back onto the pillows.

“Do you know anything about what two guys should do together?” Ziggy asked, situating himself next to Dillon.

“…No,” Dillon admitted. Ziggy rolled onto his side, reaching out to fiddle with his hair again, and leaned forward to kiss Dillon, ever so lightly.

“Then, relax; I’ll take care of you.” As he leaned forward again, Dillon reached out and held him in place as they kissed. Ziggy teased the short hairs of Dillon’s neck by running his fingers over them. It gave Dillon goose bumps and they lay there and kissed, and slowly, Ziggy’s tongue worked its way into his mouth. And then there was more than kissing, there was touching too, Ziggy’s warm hands were running over his chest, underneath the tee-shirt, and Dillon brushed his hands down to the small of Ziggy’s back, where he held them, unsure of where else to go.

Then Ziggy was kissing his neck and his shoulders and just about anything he could touch, and Dillon could scarcely hear the rain over the thud of his own heartbeat in his ears.

“Hey Ziggy, who’s Camaro is in the drive way?” came a baritone voice, echoing inside of the house. Dillon sat up so fast, he bumped Ziggy in the face, just as a tall, dark haired man entered the room.

“Hi, Dad,” Ziggy greeted, holding his nose. “This is Dillon. The Camaro is his, he gave me a ride home from school and the rain started, and it wouldn’t have really been safe to try the road out, especially since he’d never driven it before, and so I invited him to stay until the rain lets up. Dillon this is my dad, Jakob Grover.” Mr. Grover smiled, and paced forward to hold out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Dillon.” Dillon shook the man’s hand, and Mr. Grover had a very firm grip. “Have you tried to call anyone? Sometimes we don’t get the best cellphone service during storms and the lines can go down this far into the woods.”

“Oh gosh, yeah, you should do that, I totally wasn’t thinking,” Ziggy said.

“Especially if the weather man speaks no lies, you might have to spend the night here tonight,” he said. “Zig, will you show Dillon the phone in the kitchen, while I get changed?”

“Sure, Dad, what’s for dinner?”

“We have the left over roast, so I was thinking we could make some burritos,” Mr. Grover replied, stepping out of the room, like he was waiting for them to follow. “And you might want to check the dryer for Dillon’s clothes, son.” Ziggy slid off of his bed, and Dillon reluctantly followed him into the kitchen, as Mr. Grover disappeared into a different part of the house to go change.

“Sorry,” Ziggy muttered as he dragged Dillon into the kitchen.

“How the hell is he so observant?” Dillon whispered. “I mean, obviously he knew what we were doing, but asking about the call, and the clothes?”

“He served twenty years in the military,” Ziggy muttered, handing the receiver of a rotary phone to Dillon. “Now he does things for the government we aren’t allowed to talk about. And some of it was just logic. What’s your number, it’ll be easier if I punch it.” Dillon recited his home number from memory, grateful his father had him memorize it in the third grade so he didn’t have to go hunting for his phone.

“Hello?” came a voice on the other end of the line, after the click of pick up sounded.

“Hi, Dad,” Dillon said. Ziggy smiled at him, and disappeared into a room just off of the kitchen, where Dillon assumed the dryer was, as there was a large rattling noise coming from the room.

“Hey Dill, where are you? I was starting to get kind of worried. You know it’s pouring outside, right?”

“Um, yeah, I gave a friend a ride home, but he won’t give me back my keys, because he lives out in the woods and thinks I won’t make it out alive or something,” Dillon responded.

“Have I met this friend?” his father asked.

“No, he’s a new friend. He’s name’s Ziggy Grover, but hey, you did work for the government, right Dad? Maybe you know his Dad, Jacob Grover?”

“The name sounds familiar. Is Mr. Grover there? I’d like to talk to him.” As if on cue, Jacob Grover appeared in the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a large bag of what looking like roast beef.

“Dad I’m not seven anymore.”

“But perhaps for my peace of mind, you’d like to hand the phone over, son?” Dillon sighed, and took the receiver away from his ear.

“Um, Mr. Grover?” The older man looked down at him (Dillon, realized that the man was a good two or three inches taller than he was, which was a little strange considering how not-tall Ziggy was). “My father would like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure thing. You can head back to Ziggy’s room if you like, I’m sure he’ll be right along with your clothes.” Dillon gratefully escaped the kitchen as the two men began to talk via telephone.

“There is something a little…overpowering about your dad,” Dillon said as Ziggy walked into the room with his folded clothing.

“Yeah, he has that effect on people. It probably doesn’t help that the last guy I was almost physically intimate with left me for a girl, but just act respectful, and well, like you and he’ll come around pretty quickly,” Ziggy said, handing over the clothes. “Would you like to change in the bathroom again? I have to warm you; I’ll be doing the same.” Dillon flushed.

“The bathroom sounds good, thanks.” He couldn’t see it, but he was sure Ziggy was smiling as he left the room.