editingthatin:
You have no idea what’s going through his head right now. All you’re trying to do is be friendly and pretend you’re actually good at interacting with people.
Why is it always so hard.
Danny is… strange, but in a good way. You really wouldn’t mind bumping into him again, given the chance. He’s more interesting than anything else you’re encountered around here. But that might be a little of your own fault.
Offering a little smile back, you grab a mug to make yourself some tea- coffee can wait until you’re working again. “Join the club, man. But it’s alright, I’d appreciate that. Because, you know, I actually want to look like I haven’t been working for 12 straight hours”. Pausing, you ask, “Want tea? Or coffee, got that too”. You… actually don’t mind the nickname, for a change. Just the way he says it is… different. “…I think it’s… almost protective. Of whoever lives inside. Like it’s a safe place. I don’t have a problem with it, Dan”.
That makes you smile, knowing he’s happy with it. It’s know skin off your back. It’s something about his smile you really like. But you’re still a little unsure, like always. “No worries. I don’t mind”, you assure, leaning against a counter, arms folded loosely. With a raised eyebrow, you stare at him. “…Thirty? You’ve got to be kidding me. Dude, you’re doing good if you’re thirty”, you praise. It’s true too. But it’s probably just one of those things. The comment makes the tips of your ears turn red a little. “…Thanks. But yeah, gotta agree with you, a nice choice”.
It’s easier when you just want to haul someone in bed and fuck them silly. That, you’re known for, you know what you’re doing, you know the end goal. But this? Usually you come out and say it, and work from there, so the other doesn’t feel coerced or trapped later on- that’s tradition. It saves both parties heartbreak. But he looks like he’d break if you said anything too emotional…
This is gonna be harder than you thought.
Of course you’ll be back, though. This is your land, your house, your blame… Very little here isn’t yours. Even the Skittles are yours.
You edge away from the sink as he goes about making tea, tugging at the worn flannel keeping you somewhat warm. Oh, it’s always cold. 12 hours of working? Humans aren’t supposed to do that, are they. “No, I’m okay. Thanks, though, Barry.” You can’t keep his name off your lips. It’s like rubbing your hand over new, soft fabric, good and simple. His really, really accurate idea of the spirit of the house makes you smile, big and wide and almost heartbreaking. “Yeah? …Yeah, that’s what I- what I always thought. It’s a good place.”
You smile around colorful candy, and you’re always delighted by the strong sweetness from being so small. Everythings put altogether, intensified. It’s good. “You keep me hooked up with these, and you’ll never have to pay for security.” Three story demons can take care of robbers and such. Thirty? Three thousand, four hundred years old, and still a pretty boy. “Aw, thank you, babe!” Oops. “I try to hold up my shockingly good looks and buttchin.” You watch him go red, and smile, eyes going a little lidded. “Hey, I can appreciate a solid name. Barry… Krrramer. Nice. Thanks, baby.” You’re doing the thing. You’re so bad.
editingthatin:
You don’t know about that, all you do know is that it’s… not so bad, having a guest.
Quietly, you rub at your head. You know you’re a fairly plain guy. A bit on the short side, fairly plain, a bit of a beard, and short dark hair. Fairly unremarkable. But it doesn’t bother you too much. You’ve never been a guy who cares too much about looks, anyway. Personality is much more important. Too bad you shut yourself off from everyone you meet.
Something about Danny is… interesting.
He has that amazing smile, and it makes you blink again, as your stomach does a weird flip-flop. “You don’t have a phone? …Huh. Whatever, dude. It’s your house, I just bought it”, you supply easily. He says your name, and… for some reason, it sounds prettier from his mouth. “That’s me”. You smile, and look around. “It’s a good little place. Surprised someone else didn’t snatch it up. But I’m glad I got it”.
You see Danny eye the bag, and you can’t help it, tossing him the bag. “Consider it a thank you gift. For the house”, you say, not really minding. It’s only a bag of Skittles. Blissfully unaware, you pack away the rest of the things, tuck away the bag for re-use, and turn to face him. “You can’t be that old. Mid-twenties, if I had to guess. But it’s fine, I’m not going to be doing much else”, you assure. Blinking, you let the name settle. “…That’s a unique one. Danny Sexbang. Not too shabby, gotta admit”.
Oh fuck you want to touch him. Oh, you want to so badly.
It hurts.
He smells so good, soft wood fires and warm nights and cloudy skies with no rain, and you can feel your heart yearning for him, and you refuse to cry, straight up.
You feel very small.
But you cage yourself off, ducking around him as he goes, holding up the most honest smile of any demon. “Nah, haven’t bothered. I… Don’t actually get out much, if you haven’t guessed. I’ll knock next time, Bar.” Nickname basis. You’re just trying to hold back the babeage. “Oh, people usually think it’s too creepy. Or just don’t like the vibe of it, y'know?” The giant demon taking care of it probably doesn’t help.
The bag flies at you and you snatch it, clutching it to you before tearing it open gently. And then you pick some out, mumbling around them. Poor guy doesn’t know you steal them. “Thanks, brah, you fuckin’ rock.” You smile more outright warmly, laughing. How old are you supposed to be? “Nah, thirties, dude. Nice try.” You laugh at yourself, rubbing the back of your neck. “You like it? Did it myself. I like Kramer, though. Totally rad.”
editingthatin:
Somehow, you don’t think this is a robbery. Leaving the umbrella where it is, you step forward, taking him in.
He’s tall, and thin (far too thin, a part of his brain supplies), but has a lanky sort of charm to him. As well as a head of curly hair (an afro, again his brain offers), and his smile is… wow. Like a bolt of lightning, bright and beautiful. It leaves you blinking, as you scratch at your chin.
So… the landlord, huh? That explains it. You sigh, and offer him a smile. “A phone call would have been nice, man. Almost thought you were a robber. But it’s cool. Hi. I’m Barry Kramer. Yeah, I did. It’s pretty nice, got to admit. Has a certian charm to it”, you reply.
Wandering over to the table, you unload the bag you have, putting away the few food items you’ve had to replace due to consumption (you swear, someone keeps stealing skittles), and turn to look at your guest. “Can I get you anything, Danny? Assuming you’re staying, and don’t mind hanging around a strange old shut-in like me”. It’s only half a joke, really. If only he knew. And you know you’ve got two edits due, but they can wait, for now.
Of course its not a robbery. You only steal soda and candy, after all.
Up close, you can’t do much more than swoon over him. He doesn’t have the unnatural touch of an incubus, or super model looks, but that’s not something you’ve cooed after before, ever. He’s gorgeously human. Barry. Barry is perfect, hair you wanna curl your fingers in, a body you could curl around and hold close to yours, the beard and oh…
Oh, he smiles and the world is good again.
Your own widens, toes tapping on the floor as you give a slow shrug. “Sorry. I don’t… Really have a phone? So I would if I could. Promise, I’m not going to take anything. Your stuff is yours.” Except sweets. You can’t resist. “Barry Kramer.” For a moment, all you can do is feel how the name sits on your lips. “That’s why I keep it around, it’s too good to let go. Even if it’s run down.”
Oh, he bought more Skittles. You eye them quietly, before focusing back on Barry. You want a ton of things. All increasingly intimate. “Oh, I’m fine to just hang out like a creepy old man… Since you just restocked and all. Don’t worry, Barry. Oh, and since you dished out your last.” Your smile gets a little bashful, and maybe you do a little eyelash-batting. “I’m Danny Sexbang, if you wanna prove I’m me.”
editingthatin:
You’re not as old as you feel. But some days, it catches up to you Until the nights spent at the computer become too much and it all comes crashing down, until you wake up, from the couch, and actually take care of yourself.
It gets too much, living with Jon. He’s nice- don’t get it wrong. Just Jon is a big personality and pushes against you in the wrong ways. You like him as a friend, you just can’t live with him.
Which is how you find himself buying a tiny old house that looks like you feel, and then you’re moving in. It draws you in, and you don’t even care, because it’s a house and it’s yours and now you’ll be able to work in relative peace. It takes a day to move everything in; the computer, your livelihood, your clothes, and a few other things. You’ve never been much of a gatherer. The memories are better stored in your head then in useless nick-knacks. But you’re soon set up, and then you buy necessary stuff- dishes, and cutlery. Food and other supplies. Set up the internet connection and the TV (for the rare times you watch it).
It’s all going to plan.
It’s just you, and this big house, and no one to prod at you, try and pry you open forcefully. Sure, the downside is there’s no one to remind you to eat or sleep or just… take a break. But you’ll manage. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.
And then suddenly there’s a man in your kitchen.
“ …Uh. Excuse me?” you ask, half reaching for the umbrella against the cupboard because if this man is a robber, you’re not exactly big or imposing.
“Ohhh…"
That’s all you can say for a long moment, just a big long exhale that rattles in your chest like fresh smoke. There’s not a strain of aggressiveness in your stance, lax and slumped and gripping the counter.
He moved in and you’ve been creeping around, breathing in his echoes, but now he’s here, right here, and you pull into a big, happy grin, trying not to like. Sniff him, scent after him- or worse, actually pull him close and bury your nose against his wrist and head and neck.
That’d be creepy, from the human romance movies you’ve been watching.
But you slowly push away from the counter, looking around.
"Knew this place’d fit someone eventually, but I didn’t think… Hi, I’m Danny.” Your voice is almost a crooning sigh, that incubus charm working itself in- you wonder how starved you look. It’s only occassionally that another demon wanders through, and never humans, so yo’re starved in about 20 different ways. “You bought my house. You like it, dude?”
paparamsey:
[Pecks his cheek] …right. Yeah. Awesome. Wanna move somewhere comfortable, man? Heh, hey, you get a say in this too. It’s not all me. And hey, that’s my company’s thing.
[Nuzzles into him, laughing softly.] I’m comfortable anywhere, but if you need it, pops. Dude, I love getting an idea of what I’m gonna be doing. Like not thinking. Yeah, but you look fucking exhausted too.
paparamsey:
[Shrugs, smiling] …Not dating him, nah. But… just jerking, please? Because I don’t know if I can go the full nine yards tonight, Danny. It’s just not in these old bones.
[Grins back, patting his leg.] Well, I never said dating. But, yeah, I get it… Jerking’s fine. Whatever you want, yeah, Geoff? RTX sucks more dicks than me.
paparamsey:
[Smiles] Hell yeah we do. Bring it on.
[Kinda laughs, but shuffles over in front of.] So, lemme get this straight, we’re gonna jerk either ourselves or each other thinking about someone that as far as I know, neither of us are bangin’? Or are we gonna get serious and bang because of someone neither of us are bangin’.
paparamsey:
…You won’t be the only one.
[Sighs]
…You have hands. And I have hands. And we both have boners.
