zadenwillowfyre - Tumblr blog

zadenwillowfyre · 2 years ago

Text

because every physically affectionate steddie post (romantic or platonic or whatever) hits me like a specially crafted brick—

okay, okay, picture: steve having grown up a little touch starved and eddie having grown up with an uncle who was loving, but a little gruff and maybe not very good or gratuitous with hugs, but eddie is a very tactile person and steve is learning that he appreciates contact that isn’t just the bro level of rough shoulder thumps and bumps and light pops on a hat or the back of the head

it starts innocuous enough

eddie lounges wherever he is, but all the bodies of their growing little rabble in one place makes any space feel a bit packed, so steve taps eddies shoes with the toe of his own; a small, playful gesture, sometimes with a low ‘watch your feet, dude’ or just brief, not unfriendly eye contact, an eyebrow raised, maybe a jerk of the chin to say, ‘mind yourself, bud’

eddie being eddie starts doing it back, goes out of his way to be near steve to jostle his feet against the other boy's, sing-songing under his breath, ‘woopsie, stevie’

eddie starts sticking his legs out intentionally when he sees steve get up to putter around on movie nights, obviously waggling his feet and his eyebrows, so steve snorts and makes a point of kicking eddie’s feet with his as he goes by

it doesn’t take long for steve to start doing it, too, if a bit more subtle

just sliding down in his seat if he isn’t piled with robin or one or more of the kids (or once argyle who just thought steve looked like he’d be a nice source of heat, dragging jonathan down, too, to confirm)

steve keeps his knees bent, feet flat, and eddie knocks his knee with steve’s or kicks one foot to the side to tap their shins

it gets to where they can’t pass each other without contact, almost like a mostly non-verbal call and response just for them, a weird little inside joke

it opens a whole new world of taps and touches and they inevitably gravitate to each other wherever they are to occasionally jostle as it pleases them; elbowing and hip checks and nothing to hold one to the other except the need to answer back and forth and back and forth

a growing level of comfort in physicality

until it does become firmer, more purposeful, because they’ve given each other that room now. it becomes an ease in each of them moving the other without question. eddie catching steve’s arm and tugging him quickly out of the way of will with a hot pan of tater tots from the oven. steve wordlessly holding eddie’s shoulders to maneuver him back into the middle of their group in a crowded shopping center. each reaching for the other as easily as reeling in another limb, awareness built in tiny touches and trust

graduating from practical favors to liberties taken without thought. steve fixing eddie’s jacket collar from behind, not even pausing in conversation with dustin. eddie blindly reaching over to fish in steve’s jacket pockets looking for a pen or a lighter or whatever he needs that wasn’t in his own pockets, and steve just directing him to the correct location with a move or a touch to make it available

eddie jamming his toes under steve’s thighs on the couch. steve leaning back-to-back against eddie at parties, both gently swaying, practically lazily rocking each other, maintaining even pressure against their shoulders. they just stay like that having separate conversations. robin might get them another drink, because she's nice and she thinks they're nice (just one for them to share, because she only has two hands, steve, and she also wanted a drink)

robin and eddie are bickering about something stupid one day, and just to be a spiteful little shit, eddie leaps into steve’s lap, so robin can’t have it

robin just huffs, but doesn’t even fight him for it, and steve isn’t sure he shouldn’t be offended that she wouldn’t fight for him (‘i literally already fought for your life more than once, dingus’ /fond)

eddie gives up his stolen spot to trade places with el who wants steve to braid her hair, and she ends up braiding eddies while he sits on steve’s feet

steve experimentally stuffs his feet under eddie’s legs once and decides he gets it, but eddie’s a bit ticklish behind his thighs, which steve learns by wiggling his toes

eddie flails off the couch and takes steve down with him by the legs. all the kids sitting on the floor have to scramble suddenly out of the way. mike bitches that steve is clearly just trying to ruin the movie for them, but dustin rolls his eyes so hard his whole head has to go with them, ‘dude, we can just—‘, jabs at the remote, ‘rewind.’ when everyone settles back down, eddie drags steve’s legs into his lap and holds his ankles like a vice, refusing to make eye contact, like he can’t see steve snickering quietly smug out of the corner of his eye. he refuses to give him the win

they spend forever in this push and pull, and before long it’s like they��ve always been this way, like no one can think of them ever not being within reach of each other again, least of all them

it's leaning, hair ruffling, lost eyelashes, one wet willy (‘goddammit, eddie, agh!’), idle fingers fishing to hook each other, tugging belt loops, prodding knees and hips and shoulders in lingering ways—no rush or shyness

and then a softness at the temple, a finger traced down the bridge of a nose, hands touching without grasping, like a question in the breaths they were holding. a lean more forward facing and deliberate than all previous shiftings of weight. where before each would move into the other’s space as though they might be surprised to find themselves there if anyone asked directly, they know what shifting here will do

here, suddenly, there’s rush, urgency. here, After, there’s a shyness

even in the newness where no strip of skin was spared the light of day or any measure of affection, every whim fully indulged, nothing much changes except the gaps between them are smaller, the bumps and pulling come coupled with sweeter dimples and lower whispers, telegraphing more than Before, but nothing terribly surprising

79 notes · View notes

zadenwillowfyre · 3 years ago

Text

Devil's Gambit - Chapter 1

Day 2 of writing every day.

Down and out Gabe Mosse makes an usual deal with a beautiful yet sinister stranger...

The eyes with which Gabe Mosse regarded his boss glass over with apathy. Mr. McMannus had given the same, hackneyed speech for at least as long as Gabe had been under his employ. Gabe lets the words fall on deaf ears, he's heard it all before anyway, and could probably recite it from memory. The importance of “team work”, “company loyalty,” and “client satisfaction”.

It wasn’t that Gabe disliked the job, and he had certainly worked for far worse bosses. But lately, he felt like a bit like a juggler who’d been tossed one ball too many and worrying about investments that made already rich people richer had become increasingly more difficult.

"You turned in your portfolio for the Davis account yesterday," Mr. McMannus droned obviously, at last getting to the point of this little meeting, "It was two weeks late."

The glass shattered behind Gabe's eyes. "I know sir, I apologize. You know my father’s been-"

"Our clients don't care about your father, or any other excuses," barked Mr. McManus with a dismissive wave, "This is a very big account, Mosse. I had hoped to see some initiative. Especially after 6 years here."

"Of course," sighed Gabe defeatedly, "I'll be sure to have the next account in on time."

Mr. McMannus seemed to soften with what might be pity and said, "There won't be a next time son, I'm going to have to let you go."

Hardly surprising, this turn of events; Gabe had been a solid but not stand-out employee. He was okay at his job, but apparently not good enough to make up for the last few months of increasingly shoddy work and missed deadlines. Sick relative excuses didn’t make investors money, even if they were true. No, it wasn’t surprising, but it still stung.

With a sad nod, Gabe, the now ex investment advisor, rose from his seat to leave.

"I am sorry, Gabe. You had such promise."

Gabe offered no response as he shut the door behind him, though he held no bitterness towards the mostly kind, but droll man who had just fired him. Promises were all to often left broken and in the end, the evidence of 6 years of those broken promises and service to the same institution, all fit so neatly into a small cardboard box nestled safely in the trunk of a Ford Focus.

----

By the time the Focus rolled out of the parking lot of Hanson and McMannus Investments, its dashboard clock read 5:15.

"Typical," murmured Gabe to himself. They let him work nearly a full day on a Friday before kicking him to the curb.

He had until 5:45 to meet his Realtor, then a date at 7. No time for the rush hour traffic that inevitably bared his progress across town.

Despite being fired, he was looking forward to seeing the prospective house, even with his chances of being able to afford the place now drastically reduced. Maybe the day wouldn’t be a total loss.

At 245 Belman, Barb Lucas, Realtor, was already waiting. She was a hefty, joyful woman with amber hair, and a winning smile that could sell even the most polluted water to the finickiest germophobic whale.

Barb sung the praises of each room as if she were giving a tour of a stately historical mansion. In reality, the house resembled a cottage and offered modest accommodations, which Gabe didn't mind. The living room was spacious, kitchen in working order, two and a half baths. It was certainly nice enough, and the guest rooms would come in handy if his father's health continued the way it had.

Gabe hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The tour didn't take long and as expected, the asking price was well over double what the house is worth. At hearing the price, Gabe’s heart gave a small clinch. He supposed he would have to come clean to Barb about loosing his job, but when he tried to find the words, he found he couldn’t. Not just yet.

"I can do $75,000," said Gabe instead. He didn't really expect the offer to hold at a far cry from the 100k the owners wanted, "You said its been on the market a while, right?"

Barb eyed him dubiously, "Yes, but even so, I seriously doubt the owners will accept an offer that far below asking."

"The worst they can say is no," said Gabe, not quite able to lighten the heaviness in his voice.

Barb kept Gabe under her gaze for moment longer. Her face was less jovial than before the tour, disappointment or worse, pity, marred her expression.

“Sorry, I know I’ve been a difficult client,” Gabe offered lamely

Barb hitched her winning smile back on her face before patting Gabe on the arm, “We’ll find something. I’ll keep looking.”

Gabe shot his wary realtor an appreciative smile as they departed for their cars. They had been on this hunt a good 4 months with financial restrictions making the search a hard one. Though he had managed to put enough in savings for a small down payment, an investment consultant makes considerably less than what he makes for his clients. An unemployed investment consultant makes even less.

Gabe watched Barb drive away before starting his own journey home. It had been yet another disappointing venture on top of an already shitty day.

Oh well.

He supposed another few months (he was being optimistic here) at Hell's Apartments wouldn’t kill him.

Besides, he had a date tonight. Maybe the day would at least end on a high note, though he had his doubts.

----

If Gabe had to describe his dating life, no other phrase but “abject failure” would do. Sure, he looked good on paper and could be charming enough to get a first date, but he found it difficult to connect enough with most people to light any type of spark. Men, women, those who fell elsewhere on the gender spectrum, it didn’t matter. There were no second dates. But he kept trying, because, apparently he was a glutton for punishment. Which was why he found himself in the drive of possibly the biggest house he’d ever seen, waiting for his current date to arrive.

Susan Rockefeller was as expensive as her name. The veritable mansion she pranced out of was enough to tell Gabe that. Sleek black dress with raven locks done to match, diamond necklace, and high heel shoes; she's dressed for a horse and carriage to take her to a gourmet meal at a 5 star restaurant with a debonair gentleman decked in Armani.

All Gabe had to offer was his dinged up Focus, a moderately priced meal at his favorite eatery, and himself. An average man in a cheap suit with curly Jewish hair and glasses. He was beginning to feel grossly inadequate.

Susan entered the car with great flourish and a measure of disappointment she did little to disguise. She exudes power. No doubt, Gabe has been oversold to her by the mutual friend who set them up.

Set up indeed. He had to wonder which one of them was meant to be the butt of this joke.

"Ash said you worked in investing or something?" The question seemed more like an accusation.

You sure don't look like someone how works with money.

"Oh...yeah," Gabe confirmed evasively, "Bennie Hanna's alright?"

It wasn't but she gave no alternative. Gabe suspected that under her confident and strong exterior, was someone who preferred to be led, told what to do.

The car ride was awkward and uncomfortable. Dinner, was doubly so.

Beyond being rich and stunningly beautiful, Susan proved to be not very interesting at all. But perhaps that's because she wasn't very interested in her Gabe, whom she all but ignored.

Instead, she overtly flirted with with the owner of the establishment, who, after coming over to check that their experience was satisfactory, personally oversaw the needs of their table for the rest of the evening.

At least the food is good Gabe mused to himself.

When the check came, Susan was sure to provide the overly attentive owner her number while Gabe provided the credit card.

Cutting the date mercifully short, Gabe returned a Susan home that was much happier than the one he had picked up. Though he knew it wasn’t because she had enjoyed his company.

----

Outside Hell's Apartments, or Stone Creek Condos as they are more commonly called, Gabe indulged in a vice he quit 5 years ago. Long drags let the menthol tobacco work its magic, soothing Gabe's weary mind and wounded ego. He took some comfort in imagining his problems billowing away with the smoke.

All too soon he flicked the butt of his cigarette to the pavement, resisting the urge to inhale the whole pack.

Stretching laboriously, Gabe entered the apartment building and made a stop at the mailboxes near the far end of the lobby.

"Evening," a deep masculine voice said.

Startled, Gabe turned in the direction of the voice. The speaker was a tall, broad shouldered man with strong features. He looked to be around Gabe’s age; late 30’s, maybe a bit older. His black suite and red tie clearly stated that he could afford nicer places than this. He was also devastatingly handsome in a way that made a gentle heat rise to Gabe’s cheeks.

After a beat, Gabe acknowledged the greeting with a halfhearted nod-and-smile. How did he miss this man coming in?

"Quite a day, no?" Probed the stranger.

Collecting his pile of bills and assorted junk mail, Gabe gave a noncommittal noise of agreement. What was this guy’s deal?

"What if there was a way to make your problems disappear?"

Gabe wished he could make this sexy but increasingly creepy man disappear.

"I know of your troubles, Gabe Mosse. Of the burdens you bear."

Gabe thought briefly of booking it up the stairs that stood adjacent to the mail area and locking himself in the sanctuary of his dilapidated apartment, no matter how hot this wierdo was. But something in the man's aura kept him still.

"Very clever, reading my name off my mail over my shoulder," Gabe accused snidely, though he had a sinking feeling the stranger hadn't done anything of the sort, "What do you want?"

"I'm only offering to help a man who can't seem to catch a break."

Getting creepier and creepier all the time. Gabe tried to convince himself that this was just some crazy person, but intuition knew otherwise. "Who are you?"

"Just a concerned friend. Many call me Luci, but I have many names."

"Riiight," said Gabe sarcastically, "Your name is Luci and you want to help me." He was definitely being punked.

"An apt summarization," crooned Luci.

Gabe rolled his eyes. Intuition be damned, this conversation had turned insane. "And what? Let me guess...all my problems disappear in return for my soul."

Something in Luci's grin, in the way he sneered at Gabe’s jibe, was deeply unsettling. "Actually, I'm trying something new these days. Humans are far too reckless with their own souls. That old game has rather lost its charm for me. Its more amusing to watch things unfold when another person's soul is at steak. The things people are willing to do to get ahead. Or the lengths one goes to to retract their offers and save their loved ones. It makes for a much more exciting gamble."

"Who's soul exactly then?" Whispered Gabe, mouth dry, shocked and appalled at entertaining this lunatic's ravings.

"Could be anyone. Someone close, or someone you don't know at all. A murderer even. Not knowing is part of the fun. For me anyway."

More than the unsavory subject of their conversation, Gabe was bothered by the depressing realization that it brought. It had been years sense he'd been truly happy. A dead end boring job he had just lost, countless dates gone bad, a hole in the wall place to call home, no prospects, no purpose, no fulfillment. Not to mention the worry over his father’s heath seemed to compound it all. It seemed so self pitying, but it was almost enough to bring him too his knees.

"I see it in your eyes," said Luci earnestly, "You yearn for something more."

This was ridiculous. Nothing but drivel from an oddly perceptive crazy man.

"Sir, if you really did have way to make my life better, I'd personally hand you any soul of your choice." Gabe jeered, trying to seem flippant and unaffected by Luci’s presence.

Luci’s sneered broadened into an evil, disconcerting expression that seemed to distort his handsome features into something sinister. "I see we have an accord."

Reaching out, Luci shook Gabe's hand.

Oddly electric that handshake.

"Yeah, what ever, guy."

Gabe retracted his hand, shaking off the static sensation, and started up the stairs.

By the time he looked back, the stranger named Luci was gone.

He also noticed the faint sent of smoke, likely just from his cigarette.

7 notes · View notes