Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.

Notes: Written for the porn battle on LJ/DW; prompt: Chase/Caleb, intense, past. This is an AU where Chase was a part of their group from the start.

Chase stays home on his thirteenth birthday. Caleb goes to see a movie with Reid, Tyler and Pogue and sits in the dark theater thinking about Chase, waiting at home for the strike of the clock, for his life to change. He's the eldest, although he doesn't carry the kind of gravitas all of their parents seem to think should come with that position. He's still the eldest, and that means something powerful—first to taste magic, and someday, first to ascend.

When they're done with the movie, Tyler's mom tells them not to all rush over to Chase's house, to give him time to adjust and come to them when he feels up to it. They grumble but agree; and Caleb intends to listen, he really does. He's the responsible one, after all; even though Chase is the oldest, they've all always relied on Caleb to rein them in. So when Tyler's mom drops Caleb at home he decides he'll wait for Chase to call, but then he starts thinking about how Caleb was the first person Chase called that time he lost his front teeth, and how Chase came to see Caleb when he couldn't find his pet rabbit so they could both look for it together, and really, if Caleb were the first one to get his powers, wouldn't he want to tell Chase all about it right away? and before he knows it, he finds his feet taking him to Chase's house instead.

He almost walks up the steps to the front door, but something pulls him around back instead, like a hook yanking him from inside his stomach. He walks around the house to the backyard and sees Chase sitting under a tree, staring at his hands.

Caleb stops a few steps away from him, feeling stupidly hesitant for a moment, before Chase looks up and grins at him; it's the same way he's always smiled at Caleb, and something inside Caleb relaxes at that. He wouldn't like it if Chase were suddenly someone different because of this; he's never been fond of change.

"Hey," Chase says, and pats the ground at his side. Caleb kicks a rock away and sits down, frowning a little as he tries to catch the slight oddness in Chase's voice, a faintly breathless tone. "I would've come over soon," Chase says, "but I knew you'd beat me to it."

He's not staring at just his hands, Caleb realizes. Chase twitches his fingers a little, and the grass in front of him parts in a furrow; he twitches them again, the grass straightens up—too straight, like thousands of green toothpicks stuck in the ground. Chase grins, looking up at Caleb at last, radiating pride.

It's just like him, Caleb thinks. If Reid had his powers already, he'd probably blow up the garage first thing, just to prove he could. Chase likes details.

"What's it feel like?" Caleb asks, biting his lip, eyeing Chase sidelong. It's probably a stupid question, one of those that don't really have an answer, or at least not an answer you can put into words.

Chase looks at him for a moment, something wild and new flickering over his face.

Then he grabs Caleb's hand, lacing their fingers together, and the hair starts to rise on the back of Caleb's neck and he sees Chase grin, a fey, animal smile he's never seen before, and he feels Chase push something at him, like lighting through their joined fingers; it's a taste of something breathless, like a storm shaking a house apart, something dizzying, something he's not meant for, yet. Caleb tastes electricity in his mouth, at the back of his throat, feels it dance under his skin; realizes, abruptly, that's he's gone stiff inside his jeans.

"What's it feel like? Everything," Chase says, and doesn't let Caleb's hand go when he laughs gleefully at the sky.

"Eighteen, man. You've got an hour left," Reid says, smirking. "You going to just do it here, or are you going to go for some privacy?"

Pogue rolls his eyes and smacks the back of Reid's head, says, "Do you have to make everything sound like you're talking about jerking off?"

"Hey, I can't help what your dirty mind thinks," Reid says, blinking innocently, and Tyler covers his laughter with a hand.

Chase smirks at them, head lolling back against the arm of the couch, and lifts his wrist to look at his watch. "Yeah," he says, rolling gracefully to his feet. "I think I'll be going now. I'll see you babies later."

Pogue flips him off good-naturedly, and Reid says with a filthy grin, "And by 'you babies' you mean Caleb, and by 'later' you mean 'in an hour and a half', right?"

Caleb flushes and jabs his fingers in Reid's direction, making his chair tip over all the way from its precarious balance on two legs, ignoring the way Tyler and Pogue both hide knowing smiles as Reid yelps in protest. He doesn't look at Chase.

It's not like he's an idiot, okay. He knows what they're insinuating, what they all see: the way Chase stands by Caleb like personal space is a thing that doesn't apply to him; the way he smiles at every girl who ever talks to Caleb, charming and polite and deadly, and they never come near him again; the way Caleb know he's unable to stop his eyes from following Chase in a room. He knows what this is, he's just—waiting. They've been caught in place for a while, looking for the final blow to break the tension they're frozen in, and Caleb doesn't know if he can shatter it first.

Afraid of change, he thinks, and wishes Chase would do something, like—

"Caleb," Chase says, and Caleb looks at him at last, sees he's leaning against the door-frame and staring back at Caleb, eyes half-lidded and a smirk on his face. "You coming?"

—like that, apparently.

Caleb stares at him for a moment, while Reid catcalls and breaks into laughter when Pogue smacks him again; but all Caleb can see is the slight wavering uncertainty at the corners of Chase's mouth, and that's what makes him snap out of it, rise to his feet and grab his jacket and follow Chase. Like there was any question he would.

Chase doesn't say anything as he drives them to Chase's house, just stares straight ahead out the windshield with a smile playing on his face.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" Caleb asks with one eye on the time, flushing a little at the way his voice comes out, low and rough.

Chase shakes his head, still not looking at Caleb, and his voice is just as rough when he says, "Needed the time to talk myself into—well."

Caleb swallows, stares at Chase's profile, digs his fingers into his thigh for the rest of the twenty-minute drive.

"Where're your parents?" Caleb asks when they dash inside, dropping their things in piles by the front door.

"Out," Chase says, shrugging, and slides a sideways look at Caleb from under his lashes, smirking. Caleb very determinedly doesn't trip over his shoes.

What follows is probably the longest half-hour of Caleb's life; Chase sprawls out on his bed while Caleb slouches in his desk chair, and they talk about nothing and everything except for what they're waiting for, daring each other wordlessly to bring it up first. When there are three minutes left, they fall silent.

The clock ticks over to 4:36, and Chase throws his head back and screams.

Caleb jolts out of his seat, falling to his knees at the side of Chase's bed, knowing better than to touch him, though he wants to, so badly; Chase stares blindly up at the ceiling and gropes at his own chest like something's slammed him there, breath coming loud and rapid in the silence of his room, and when he finally turns his head sideways to look at Caleb, his eyes are near-black.

"Fuck," Chase says, propping himself up slowly, throat working as he swallows; and then he grins, toothy and vibrant, like he's ready to take a bite out of the world or maybe just Caleb, and Caleb is abruptly done with this uncertainty bullshit he's been working for so long. He's never let Chase have the upper hand for long, anyway.

"What's it feel like?" Caleb asks, sly, breathless, grins when Chase laughs aloud at the echo of five years back; only this time, Chase leans in until his mouth is half an inch from Caleb's, so that Caleb can feel the heat of his breath and the buzzing of his words as he murmurs, "Fucking everything." He doesn't close the space between them, giving Caleb an out.

Caleb yanks him forward by the front of his shirt; their mouths crash together, hard and painful and glorious, and Caleb puts his tongue in Chase's mouth and wonders if this is what it would feel like to swallow electricity.

Chase tugs him onto the bed and they grapple, Chase laughing as he pins Caleb to the bed by his wrists, laughing with more delight when Caleb flips them and straddles Chase, holding him down. Chase thrusts up against Caleb's ass, rocking them desperately, throws his head back and presents the long line of his throat; it's practically a dare. Caleb can feel Chase's gasp vibrate under his tongue as he bites Chase's throat, sucking blood to the surface of his skin. Chase digs his fingers into Caleb's waist, says in a voice of shaking, teasing desperation, "God, I jerked off so much when I got this the first time. You all did, I know it, you must've with how good it feels. But you—fuck, Caleb—when I showed you what it felt like, your face, after you left I locked myself in my room and I couldn't stop—"

Caleb can't help the noise that rips itself out his throat at that, grinds down on Chase and kisses him another time, biting his lip, and Chase says, "Oh fuck, oh fuck," and shakes furiously as he comes, throwing an arm over his eyes to hide his face.

Caleb climbs off him, yanks Chase's jeans and underwear off while he's still panting for breath; "Shirt," he says, tugging at the hem, and Chase draws his arm away to smile at Caleb, rumpled hair and teasing glint in his eyes.

"Sure thing," he says, and runs two fingers down Caleb's chest; Caleb's t-shirt splits down the middle, as neat as if he'd taken a pair of scissors to it, and slides off his arms to crumple somewhere behind him.

"I meant yours," Caleb says, but his voice fails on the words, because the touch of Chase's magic on him is like being ducked in scalding water, or the adrenaline jolt of almost falling off a roof, and what he really means is again.

Chase runs his hands up Caleb's chest, static electricity over his skin, and says, "Sorry," sounding anything but. He pulls his shirt over his head and then gets rid of the rest of Caleb's clothing the same way as before, murmurs, "I'll put them back together again later," as he works his fingers under the waistband of Caleb's underwear and splits the seam excruciatingly carefully, Caleb gritting his teeth and trying desperately not to come.

Chase knocks Caleb back onto the bed after that, slides down and puts his mouth on Caleb's cock, unpracticed and hungry and messy and perfect, and Caleb comes in his mouth and all over his chin and pushes it back inside Chase's mouth with his fingers when he's done.

"You're next, baby," Chase says, panting in Caleb's ear as Caleb jerks him off minutes later, puts a mocking lilt on the last word in a way that really shouldn't kick Caleb in the gut like that; Chase bites Caleb's ear, tightens his thighs around Caleb's waist and wriggles a little to settle properly in Caleb's lap, and continues, "You going to do your birthday by yourself?"

"Why, you know someone who's interested?" Caleb says, gasping for breath, and Chase bites him under the jaw for that, glorious sting of teeth, kisses him again and feeds him another taste of magic by licking it right into his mouth.

"Damn right," Chase says, voice breaking when Caleb tightens his hand a little. "You're booked for all future birthdays. Everyone else can fuck off."

"Fine by me," Caleb says, utterly honest, and watching Chase's mouth fall open as he comes again, he's never looked forward to anything more.