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Steve has been a librarian at Hawkins Library for a few months before he starts seeing the curly-haired metalhead coming in.
It takes him three weeks to learn the guy's name is Eddie, mainly because the head librarian - Beatrice - prefers to tut and shake her head while muttering about 'devil worshippers' under her breath.
He also learns that Eddie is the bane of any librarian's existence.
He leaves the weirdest shit in the books - things that had obviously been close to hand and easy to use as a bookmark, the best had been a folded piece of paper with a dragon drawn on it, the worst had been a suspiciously stained tissue that Steve refused to touch.
He never returns his books on time, in fact, it got to the point where Beatrice's mutters were steering towards banning him so Steve secretly covered all the late fees. He believed in free knowledge... and he kinda liked seeing the guy floating about the library.
When he decides to read books there, he sits with his ridiculous, chunky boots on the damn table like he owns the place and the chains hanging off them always make a horrendous noise against the wooden surfaces.
And that's not even getting Steve started on the Walkman he's always wearing that's blasting loud metal music through the headphones at a volume that is definitely going to give him hearing damage.
Steve is obsessed.
So much, in fact, that all of his kids have taken turns visiting him at work so that they could see who exactly was taking up so much of their babysitter's thoughts.
Things continue like this - Eddie being annoying, Steve yearning from a distance and various teenagers hiding between the shelves - until one day when Steve is flicking through Eddie's returns for whatever bullshit bookmark he's left in them this time, only to find a note aimed at him instead.
If you like staring so much, how about you do it over milkshakes tonight? 6pm?
Steve lets out a ridiculous sound that he would never admit to, fumbling with the note and the stack of books that then topple off the desk, drawing Eddie's amused gaze.
He also spills his milkshake that evening, but thankfully Eddie just laughs and helps him mop it up with napkins.
Steve learns three things that night:
Eddie only started using that library so he could also stare at Steve.
His voice was so deep and enticing that Steve wanted to wrap himself up in it.
Eddie didn't know libraries had late fees.
Steve thinks he falls a little in love on that date, mainly because he knows that even with Eddie's new knowledge of the library system, he'll still pay the beautiful boy's late fees if it means he can keep staring.
I'd stand on the corner, embarrassed with a picket sign (part 1)
(aka that witch!eddie and hoh!steve fic i was talking about)
Eddie learned the craft from his mom. Witchcraft, to be clear. It was the only thing she’d left him with when she’d walked out on him and his dad when Eddie was only thirteen. That, and an ancient amethyst ring Eddie still wore on a silver chain around his neck, along with the first guitar pick his Uncle Wayne had given him.
Eddie was sentimental like that. But his mother had always told him, objects held power. Which was probably at the root of his packrat tendencies, but he was twenty-six and he wasn’t about to change now.
It was nearing midnight on a Tuesday night and Eddie sat on the sunken couch in his apartment. A cigarette curled smoke about his head as he laid cards out before him on the coffee table, studying the images intently as a Pink Floyd concert streamed on the flat-screen. He absently reached for the remote to turn down the volume as he considered the spread.
The Two of Wands reversed, Strength, and the Ten of Cups.
Fucking Strength again. Eddie had drawn that card very nearly every day for the past two months. Ever since his new neighbor had moved in.
Eddie took a drag off his cigarette and tapped black-painted nails thoughtfully on the coffee table. He glanced up when a long furry white shape scrabbled up onto the table and hopped around the cards. Eddie’s familiar, a small white ferret, made a grab for the Strength card and Eddie hastily snatched it out of her teeth. He glared at her and she met his gaze with eyes like shiny black beetles.
“You have something to do with this, don’t you,” he accused, pointing at her with the card in his hand.
She darted away and off the table, kicking over his stack of cards as she went.
“Little shit,” Eddie grumbled to himself as he gathered up his deck and put it back in its black velvet bag.
Eddie’s phone buzzed and he fished it out of his back pocket.
unknown: hi! this is robin. i got your # from chrissy. can you do a reading tn??
Eddie sighed, glanced at the clock. He had a few places he liked to meet people for readings. Chrissy, his closest friend since high school, attended the local University. Robin was probably the same Robin that Chrissy talked about all the time, the one in her Women’s Lit class. Eddie quickly arranged to meet her at the 24-hour University library, and tried to pretend there was no reason to be anxious.
“Galadriel! Get your furry little ass out here, we’ve got work!” Eddie called as he stood and went to the door, tugging on his jacket and boots.
The sound of tiny claws on the hardwood preceded his familiar as she scurried into the foyer, dragging one of her little sweaters.
Eddie grinned and stooped to pull the lavender sweater onto her squirming body. “Good thinking. It’s supposed to get cold tonight,” he said. He unzipped a beaten black leather backpack on the floor and Galadriel hopped in without needing to be told. He put the backpack across his chest and grabbed his helmet from the hook by the door.
The library was only a twenty minute walk, but Eddie hated walking. His breath misted in the cold October night air as he swiped water droplets off the seat of his motorcycle and mounted it. Thankfully the rain had stopped for a while, but a feeling on the back of his neck told him it wouldn’t hold off long.
Eddie parked his bike in front of the library a few minutes later and hung his helmet on the handlebar. He crouched to check his reflection in the side mirror. He fluffed his hair, which had gone sadly flat under the helmet, and checked his teeth. He tried out his sweetest smile, then his filthiest smirk.
He let his face fall into his hands and groaned. “It doesn’t matter. You know you’re not going to talk to him, you fucking coward,” he hissed.
Galadriel poked her head out of the backpack and nipped the meat of his hand. Eddie squawked and almost fell backwards onto his ass on the wet pavement. “Shit! Ok, I’m going! Asshole,” he grumbled. A crack of thunder boomed ominously overhead just as he mounted the steps and a rain drop hit his nose. Another thing he’d gotten from his mom: an infallible sense for weather.
Midterms were coming up for students, so the library was fairly full even at this time of night. When he walked in, the object of his anxiety was helping a student at the front desk. Eddie passed the desk without looking up and found Robin at a secluded table in the language section.
Robin, Eddie soon discovered, was as infatuated with Chrissy as Chrissy was with her. The question Robin had for him was whether she should break up with her girlfriend, and ask Chrissy out. Robin used the word “fine” to describe her current relationship no less than eight times. She had described Chrissy, however, with phrases like “electric smile” and “a laugh like christmas bells” and “fascinating opinions on Radclyffe Hall.”
Eddie laid out a spread for her, and the cards just confirmed what he already knew. Robin needed to move on from this relationship that was going exactly nowhere at a turtle’s pace and roll the dice with Chrissy.
‘You owe me, Chrissy,’ Eddie thought as he pocketed $25 from an anxious but happy Robin and gathered up his cards.
When he exited the language section, thunder rolled and rain lashed against the windows of the library. Up front he saw Steve standing behind the librarian’s desk, one hand to his ear and the other fiddling on his phone. His gaze was intent on his screen, elbows on the desk. Eddie slowed his determined walk towards the door, waffling with indecision. He felt Galadriel squirming restlessly and looked down to see her narrow musteline face peaking up at him out of the dark cavern of the open backpack. Somehow, her expression seemed accusatory.
“I’m not a coward,” he whispered to her, defensive. “It’s rude to bother someone while they’re at work!”
Her beady eyes blinked up at him.
Eddie clenched his teeth. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, I know we’re neighbors and we’ve said less than ten words to each other but the first time I saw you without a shirt I had to lock myself in my bedroom and jerk off about it until I could think about anything else again?’” he whispered angrily.
Two girls passed him, giggling and glancing at him. Eddie winked at them and gave a mock bow, swallowing his embarrassment behind a mischievous grin. Nothing to see here. Just a man talking to himself. One of the girls blushed and gave him a little finger wave.
When they were gone, Eddie sighed and looked down at his familiar. “Fine,” he whispered. “I’ll talk to him. But I’m gonna say the stupidest shit just to spite you.”
Galadriel didn’t roll her eyes, because she was a ferret, but Eddie got the message loud and clear. “Shut up,” he whispered to her. Then with more confidence then he felt, he rolled his shoulders, shook out his hair, and sauntered up to the desk where Steve still stood with one hand to his ear and his eyes on his phone, brow furrowed.
Eddie leaned on the wood surface, cleared his throat. Steve didn’t react. Eddie tapped his knuckles against the desk and Steve finally looked up, pretty hazel eyes wide and glossy pink lips slightly parted. He was wearing a smart blue button-down tucked into dark chinos that Eddie knew from experience made his ass look incredible. His lion’s mane of chestnut hair was as gravity-defying as ever, swooping over his forehead.
Eddie ignored the wild pattering of his heart, laid his hands flat on the desk to hide their shaking, put on his best smolder, the one he used when he was crooning into a microphone on stage at a local bar. “Can I apply for a library card? Because I’d like to check you out.”
Steve’s brow furrowed in consternation, and he looked down at his phone again, slid his thumb across the screen. He looked back up with an apologetic frown. “What was that? Sorry, I had to adjust my hearing aids. The noise from the storm kinda interferes.”
Eddie’s stomach dropped. Shit. Shit! He hadn’t actually meant to say something that stupid, but that’s usually how it went for him. His mouth did things his brain didn’t authorize. And Steve hadn’t even heard him. The little bit of courage he’d managed to cobble together mainly to spite Galadriel’s judging looks had melted away “Um…”
“Oh my god, is that a ferret?” Steve said.
Eddie looked down to see Galadriel had poked her furry white head out of the bag across his chest and was looking at Steve. There was definitely a sign on the door that said no animals except service animals that Eddie ignored every time he came here because his familiar was usually very good at keeping herself hidden. Except when she was being a nosey little shit.
“I have to go! It was- nice, um- this was-,” Eddie gargled, before he gave up and turned on his heel, practically sprinting to the glass doors as he pushed Galadriel’s head back down into the bag.
“That was a disaster!” Eddie said as he stomped back down the steps to his motorcycle. Rain pelted his hair and his leather jacket. Galadriel had smartly curled back up at the bottom of her bag. She hated rain.
Back at the apartment, Eddie dropped his helmet and bag by the door with a sigh. Galdriel tumbled out of her bag and gave herself an indignant shake as if to dispel any responsibility for that catastrophe of an interaction. She skittered off into the apartment and Eddie followed, shedding his sopping clothes and letting them fall with wet slaps on the hardwood. He’d pick them up later. Right now he needed to dry his hair and change into some soft pajamas.
The thing was, Galadriel was right. He was a coward. Eddie had been hopelessly infatuated with Steve from the moment he’d moved into the building two months ago.
Eddie had been awoken out of an unusually good sleep at two in the afternoon by the sound of shouting and thumping out in the hallway. When he’d gone to investigate, ready to use his well-known freak persona to scare whoever it was into silence, he’d come face-to-flushed, sweaty face with the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen in his life. He had been moving a couch with the help of a curly-headed teenager with a gap-toothed grin.
Eddie had stuttered something stupid, he still didn’t know if it had been his actual name, and Steve had introduced himself, dropping his end of the couch to shake Eddie’s hand, a dumb smile stretching his beautiful face. The teenager had cussed at them both with a far-too superior attitude for a literal child and Steve had fumbled to pick up the couch and continue scraping and denting both sides of the hallway as they moved his furniture into the apartment right beside Eddie’s.
Eddie had agonized for days about whether or not he should go over and formally introduce himself and maybe bring his new neighbor some homemade bread or a casserole or something. Was that something you were supposed to do for new neighbors? Or was that just when someone died? Eddie didn’t know. He also didn’t know how to cook anything more complicated than a grilled cheese. After a week he’d decided too much time had passed for it to be anything but weird to knock on his new neighbor’s door.
And then for the following two months Eddie had sunk deeper and deeper into admiration for his pretty neighbor who sang along to pop songs and ran shirtless in the afternoons if he wasn’t playing basketball with neighborhood kids and had the sweetest smile and most expressive eyebrows and had some kind of bitchy older brother thing going with a group of rowdy teenagers that Eddie found both entertaining and endearing. Also he was a hot librarian. How was Eddie supposed to be normal about any of this?
And despite his familiar’s encouragement (read: harassment with a side of judgment) Eddie had done nothing so far to make a move.
And now he’d made a fool of himself. At least Steve hadn’t actually heard his incredibly stupid pick-up line. That was a plus, right?
Eddie sat back down on his couch and pulled out a box of supplies he kept under the coffee table. He needed to put together some spell kits for his Etsy shop. It was almost Halloween and people went crazy for spell kits during “spooky season.” It wasn’t his favorite part of his business, as it were, but it paid the bills.
Galadriel came running out of the bedroom still in her little purple sweater, dragging Eddie’s favorite fuzzy blanket behind her. Eddie smiled reluctantly and accepted her offering. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders as she scrabbled up onto the sofa beside him. She liked to help with the kits.
Eddie massaged her behind the ears with his thumb and forefinger, smile fondly exasperated. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault I can’t talk to pretty guys without looking stupid.”
Galadriel hopped around to his other side happily and jumped to the table. She started pulling bags of dried herbs and tiny vials out of the box, what she knew they’d need for spell kits for communing with spirits. They were always his best sellers in October. Oddly enough, spell kits for banishing spirits were extra popular in November.
“Of course, it kind of is your fault a little bit,” Eddie teased. “You know I get extra stupid when you provoke me. I’m very suggestible.”
Galadriel chittered at him and Eddie laughed. Thunder cracked outside and rain continued to pound against the windows as he and his familiar worked at the table.
---
notes: I'm going to try my best to update this every Sunday. It shouldn't be more than five parts, I think. next chapter will be Steve's pov! I will be cross-posting to ao3, but tumblr will see it first. steve's hard of hearing is not going to be part of the conflict of the story or an obstacle or anything, it's just something he's living with. I am still looking for a sensitivity reader for Steve's parts! Anyone who has personal experience with losing their hearing, hearing aids, and/or hearing dogs. Steve has been losing his hearing for years, and when he moves in next to Eddie he has just started using hearing aids and getting a home hearing dog. I want to make sure I get his part right, and that I do justice to his feelings about the new accommodations he is learning to live with.
Summary: You are new to the area. With your stuff in transit, you stumble on a local library that feeds your love.. of reading..
Characters: Librarian!Bucky; OFC!Reader; mentions of Librarian!Steve
No warnings
Word count: 915
A/N: So this popped into my head when I was relaxing reading one day. I wanted to make a one shot - let's be honest, that's what I am always striving to do and I usually fail.
This one could be a one-shot - unless you want more. If so, let me know and we might get some drabbles or imagines. Anyway, enjoy, don't forget to like, reblog and comment.
I appreciate each and every one of you.
Not Beta'd so any mistakes are my own.
Masterlist
You had just moved to the area, arriving a few days ago. All of your belongings were still in a moving van, probably only about halfway across the country at this stage. You should have planned this better you thought to yourself, maybe having your stuff collected a few days ahead of you leaving your old place.
There would still have been the need to stay a few days in a hotel and really, it seemed more logical to do that in your new hometown and spend the time exploring the area without the hassle of also trying to unpack. You spent the first 2 days here in the hotel just recovering from the trip.
California to New York was a ridiculous move, but you’d been offered the job of a lifetime, working as a PA to Tony Stark, the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist of Stark Enterprises. The pay was phenomenal, the hours and perks amazing. You’d certainly never be able to afford to live in New York without the pay he had offered. Not even in Queens or Brooklyn, where you would be renting an apartment for the first few months at least. If you liked the job and the area, you’d decided that you’d see if you could afford to buy something, to put down roots.
It had been years since you had any contact with your family, and you didn’t have many close friends either, simply deciding that the less people you had close to you, the less chance of being hurt. There had been far too much hurt in your lifetime for you to endure any more..
You thought today would be a good opportunity to venture into Manhattan and suss out where the Stark building was, but as you strode through the tree-lined streets heading for the subway station, you noticed a sign for the local library. Knowing your stuff was still a few days away and you were wanting some reading material, you decided to check it out and maybe go into Manhattan afterwards. Feeling unsure whether this library was close enough to your new place to join and whether you’d be able to check out any books without joining.
Walking up to the front door, it looks fairly non-descript. Just a normal brick building with a few windows, you weren’t expecting anything fantastic inside. The sign out front said Brooklyn Public Library. Inside it wasn’t huge, but it was bright and airy, had a few tables in the middle and shelves of books around the outer area. You also noticed a few comfy looking chairs and you thought if they didn’t let you check any books out, you’d be able to spend a few hours in one of them reading the books you chose.
The front desk was unattended but you saw a bell so you rang that and waited for someone to come so you could ask a few questions. After about a minute you heard a deep Brooklyn accent behind you.
“Mornin’ sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help you?” The voice asked.
Turning around you saw the most intense blue eyes you’d ever seen. Words failed you as you felt like you were swimming in the ocean blue eyes that were looking at you. “Oh, Um, hi” you stuttered, feeling more like a teenager and wondering if your cheeks were as red as they felt.
“Are you ok sugar? Can I help you with something? My names Bucky, I’m the head librarian here.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry” you say, shaking your head to clear your mind. “I’m new to the area and all my books are still on their way and I wondered if I could borrow a couple of books? But I’m not sure if I live close enough to join this library”
“No problem sweetheart, where are you living?”
“Well, I haven’t actually moved in yet but I’ll be living down near Coney Island, kind of Gravesend/Bath Beach area? That’s if my stuff ever gets here.”
He laughed and you wondered what you could do to make that sound come out of his mouth more. “Well, lucky for you, that’s still in the Brooklyn area. So all you need to do is join one of the libraries, and you have access to all of them. So if you can’t get back here, you can go to the Gravesend branch, which shouldn’t be too far from your new place but the sounds of it.”
“Ok then, what do I need to do” you smiled at him.
You spent the next half hour chatting to Bucky and filling out the paperwork to join the library. He handed you your new library card and offered to show you where everything was.
“Oh I’m sure you have more important things to do, I’m happy just to browse.”
“Well, some things are more important, but if you’re sure I do have a kids session to host shortly. Just give us a wave or a yell if you need any help. Alternatively the other librarian, Steve, is around here somewhere. He’s a blond meatball so he should be pretty easy to spot.”
“Thanks for your help Bucky, I’ll be sure to let you or meatball know if I need any assistance.”
Walking away, towards the shelves of books, you couldn’t help but hope that you could get back to this library branch in the future.
Little did you know, someone else was hoping the exact same thing.
Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.
Librarian!Steve Masterlist
He knows he shouldn’t have looked - his Ma raised him better than that - but Steven Grant Rogers has always been a nosy little shit. Besides, the type of book a person reads can say a hundred things about them, and what better way is there to learn more about you?
Steve wonders what it is about this book that’s got you excited. Is it adventure? Knowledge? A new mystery?
The novel you’d specially requested had finally arrived, and it was surprisingly unassuming. A small beige coloured book - the cloth a few shades darker than his sweater vest - with the cursive title underlined by a single, fine lined peony.
Without looking further Steve concludes it must be a poetry anthology, and then promptly opens it.
Jesus was he wrong.
He supposes that, in some unusual way, there is something poetic about the depth of the protagonists’ desires for one another. However, the paragraphs intimately detailing their numerous affairs are beyond obscene. This is what you desire so badly that you came to him the library to get it?
Getting lost in the book before he realises it, he asks himself that question as he reads on, gradually getting more and more flustered by the descriptive language, and it’s not long before he’s picturing you in these carnal encounters - a sultry, inviting smile on your face, lashes fluttering as you thank him for being so good for you, your chest in his face as you slowly reach for his-
*DING!*
Startled, he about falls from his chair when he hears the bell from the front counter ring. Quickly snapping the book shut he leans back in his chair, calms his harsh breathing and looks past the office doorway to see you patiently standing there. The second you catch his eye you wave at him hesitantly, almost as if you had just caught him in the act.
The thought both mortifies and stirs him.
“Is now a bad time?” you ask sweetly.
“No” - his hands fumble as he adjusts his now tight pants out of view - “not at all.”
Five painfully awkward seconds later he’s rolling over in chair, praying desperately that the stack of returns in his lap is enough to cover what’s left of his raging hard-on. He hopes his voice isn’t too conspicuous, too strained while he asks how he can help you.
“I received an email saying my book is here?”
Steve attempts to keep his cool when you mention your order, nodding in acknowledgement. He thinks his face doesn’t feel too hot when he wheels back and grabs the explicit material, his expression schooled into something a little more professional as he hands it over to you.
But then you lead forward to take it, the smile on your face growing. “You’re my hero, Steve. Honestly, my friend has been pestering me about this for ages so today’s the day I can finally get her off my back about it.”
Steve Rogers is fucked and he knows it, feels the familiar resignation settle underneath his skin as his fingers brush yours and his vision narrows down to this moment. To you.
There’s a small part of him that hates how he’ll twist this interaction later for his own pleasure, turn it into something else entirely while you, his favourite and most precious patron, remain none the wiser.
“Thank you, Steve.”
“I’m happy to help.”
He watches your thumb gently rub the spine of the book and -
Yeah, he’s utterly fucked.
--------
A/N: Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it 👀👅
I'd stand on the corner, embarrassed with a picket sign (part 2)
(link to part 1)
Steve stood at his kitchen counter, brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully folded crumbled feta and herbs into a ball of stretchy white dough. He swiped his hand across his cheek, leaving a streak of flour, and turned the page of the recipe book propped up against the flour canister.
Steve knew he wasn’t the typical librarian, knew people were always shocked to learn he’d rather kick back with a beer and a game of basketball on the TV rather than a book. He’d read enough to get through school, and to be honest he’d had more than a little help from Nancy, Robin, and Dustin to get his college degree. He’d gotten the job as the night shift librarian and moved into his new apartment two months ago, eager to finally start living his life out from under his parents’ thumbs.
He’d never really thought about what he’d do when he didn’t have his parents shaking their heads and tutting at every life choice he made. Thought maybe he’d do some volunteering, maybe something with sports and kids; he didn’t know the particulars, just knew he loved playing sports and he loved helping kids. He would never tell Dustin that last part, though. He’d also thought he’d finally get some help for his hearing loss. His parents had not been happy when he’d mentioned getting hearing aids when he still lived with them.
Well, he’d started coaching a middle-school age intramural basketball team, which he loved. He’d gotten hearing aids, which he also loved (seriously, how the fuck had he lived the last eight years of his life without them). He’d gotten a home hearing dog. Still getting used to that one, but he and Bruiser were really becoming friends, he thought. And, most surprisingly, he’d gotten really into baking.
It had been purely accidental. A few days into his new job at the library, Steve had been so bored he’d actually gone looking through the aisles for something to read. He’d found the cookbook section and fell down a rabbit hole of pastries, pies, buns, and cakes. He’d baked something new every day since then and he was getting pretty good at it. Even the kids said so, and getting a compliment out of any of them, except Will who was a literal angel, was like pulling teeth.
The sound of a tail thumping against the hardwood made Steve smile and he looked down to see Bruiser at his feet, her wide mouth open and tongue lolling in that way that made her look like she was smiling too.
Steve had never had a dog before, and to be honest large dogs had always made him nervous. But he had this disease (that’s what Robin called it) where he couldn’t admit when he was uncomfortable or scared or in pain, so when the dog matching guy had asked him if he was ok with any size dog Steve had said yes and silently hoped he’d be matched with a Pomeranian or something.
What he’d gotten was a 60-pound gray pit bull with more heart than brains and no concept of personal space. That had freaked Steve out a bit at first, but her constant need to be touching him had soothed some of the aching loneliness in him, another thing he had an allergy to admitting to.
Technically Bruiser was a working dog. She was trained to listen for certain sounds in the house and alert Steve to them, and she was always on duty. The organization insisted on calling them “partners.” But Bruiser was the best girl that there had ever been, and she had the sweetest gray-green eyes and the softest neck for snuggling your face in and she could have little bites of cheese and bread if she wanted, no dumb little brochure about dog ownership was going to tell Steve that she couldn’t have a little cheese, and she could sleep in the bed with him and have any toy she wanted when they went to the pet store.
And so, another thing that he had never expected to happen when he’d moved into his own place: Steve was a dog dad. Robin loved to call him that because she was convinced he hated it, but Steve carried the title with pride.
Steve slipped her a hunk of feta and grinned fondly when she quickly gobbled it down and then proceeded to snuffle at his pants leg like he might be hiding more in there somewhere.
He went back to shaping the cheese buns and then set them aside on the counter to rise. He heard Bruiser’s tail start to thump again and turned back to her with a sigh. “Go on, girl, I don’t have any more cheese for you-” he froze abruptly.
Astride Bruiser’s wide shoulders, tiny white paws on her forehead, was a ferret. A very familiar white ferret. Bruiser was sitting perfectly still, only her tail wagging, and her eyes were going cross trying to look up at the little creature on her head. The ferret was staring up at Steve with little black eyes.
“Well, you’re definitely not getting any cheese,” Steve said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.
The ferret just continued to stare at him. Steve shifted uncomfortably.
Then Steve remembered where he’d seen the ferret before, or rather who he’d seen it with. “Hey! You belong to my hot neighbor!” he said.
Steve had been kicking himself for days for that bungled opportunity at the library. He’d been looking for a reason to talk to his neighbor since he moved in. Eddie was not only gorgeous with his fuzzy dark hair and big cow eyes and dimples when he grinned. He was not only hot with the tattoos climbing up his neck from under his t-shirts, the eyebrow piercing that somehow always made him look mischievous, and the fact that he rode a fucking motorcycle that Steve wanted to be bent over and spanked until he was red. Eddie was also a huge dork, trying so hard to keep up an air of brooding mystery to go with the leather jacket and rock music, but giving himself away when he stumbled over himself when he saw Steve shirtless (so sue him if he’d contrived a few opportunities for Eddie to ogle him).
In short, Eddie was Steve’s type: hot nerd. Steve wasn’t sure if he was Eddie’s type, but the vibes he’d been getting off him in their admittedly limited interactions made him pretty sure he could be, if given the chance.
Steve wished he knew what Eddie had said to him that night when he’d been trying to adjust his hearing aids when the thunderstorm hit.
The ferret in question chittered at Steve and scurried down Bruiser’s back to the floor. Bruiser shook herself off and then stuck her nose all over the ferret, who somehow looked exasperatedly tolerant with its fur streaked with drool and stuck up at odd angles.
“How did you get in here?” Steve wondered aloud, crouching to get a better look at the animal. Steve startled when the ferret darted forward and started pawing and digging at the hem of his sweatpants. He laughed. He’d never been around a ferret before. It was kind of manic and funny. It reminded him of its owner.
Tentatively, Steve reached down and petted the ferret. It was weird. Warm and soft and kind of squirmy. He jumped when there was a thump from his living room wall, the one he shared with Eddie. There was a muffled call from the other side and more thumping.
“Someone’s looking for you,” Steve said, huffing a laugh. This was kind of perfect, actually. An opportunity to talk to Eddie.
He carefully scooped up the ferret and cradled her loosely in his arms. It chittered and wriggled, but settled in his arms on its back, like a baby.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Steve said to Bruiser, then he went next door.
He raised his hand to knock on the door and paused when he heard more thumping and shuffling from inside his neighbor’s apartment. Then he distinctly heard, “Galadriel, you shiftless little weasel, stop hiding to get out of work!”
Steve looked down at the ferret in his arms, eyebrows raised. It looked back up at him unblinking. Steve knocked on the door.
A moment later his neighbor pulled the door open, glaring adorably and, also it must be said, shirtless. Oh how the tables had turned. Eddie’s arms and shoulders and chest and belly were covered in tattoos, animals and flowers and symbols and demonic faces, and Steve wished fervently he had time to examine them all. As it was, he let his eyes alight on the softness of Eddie’s slim belly, the trail of hair leading to the waistband of his black sweatpants, the snake that circled one of his pierced nipples and disappeared over his ribs under his arm.
Steve’s eyes snapped up to meet Eddie’s own shocked expression.
“Uh, hi,” Steve said.
“Hi?” Eddie said. Then his eyes fell on the creature cradled against Steve’s aproned chest. “Galadriel!” Eddie’s right hand snatched the ferret, Galadriel apparently (Eddie was such a goddamn nerd and Steve was going to be normal about it, he was), out of Steve’s arms. He held the little thing up to his face with one beringed hand wrapped around her body under her arms, leaving her long white body dangling limply below her. Eddie glared at her. “How did you get out of the apartment again, you conniving little-” Then he seemed to remember he wasn’t alone, and he looked back to Steve.
“I’m so sorry she got out. I don’t know how that happened,” Eddie said, looking simultaneously apologetic and uncomfortable.
“She somehow ended up in my kitchen,” Steve laughed. “She was begging for cheese,” he said, trying to put Eddie at ease.
Eddie winced.
“I didn’t give her any!” Steve rushed to assure him.
“No, it’s not that. I just think I finally figured out where she got this little toy that showed up in my bedroom a couple days ago,” Eddie sighed, looking wary.
“Oh shit, is it a little blue duck? With a squeaker?” Steve asked, wide-eyed. He and Bruiser had looked everywhere for it. Bruiser had been heartbroken when they couldn’t find it.
“That’s the one,” Eddie said, making a finger gun motion at Steve and clicking his tongue. “C’mon in, I’ll find it for you.” Eddie backed up out of the doorway and motioned for Steve to come in with the hand still holding Galadriel, who dangled and swung there like a tube sock filled with sand or something.
Eddie’s apartment was like Eddie himself, a little chaotic, a little whimsical, dark and cozy, comfortable and highly decorated every. Eddie was not a minimalist. Every bookshelf was stacked with books, every surface covered with knick knacks and candles, dozens of live plants in decorative pots on the night-dark windowsills, dozens of bundles of dry plants hanging everywhere there was room, fabrics in rich dark purples and reds and blues draped over the furniture, and a line of electric guitars on a stand in the corner beside a stack of amps. A peculiar smell permeated, like a hundred different kinds of herbs and flowers, complex but not unpleasant.
Steve wondered briefly, what’s with all the plants? But mostly he was suffused with a sense of comfort, like when you’re a kid and you build a pillow fort in the living room and drag all your favorite blankets and toys inside. That feeling.
Eddie had set Galadriel down on the kitchen counter with a whispered threat for her to behave herself, and then disappeared back down the hallway.
Galadriel shook herself out, little claws clicking against the linoleum countertop, then stared at Steve for a moment. Steve stared back, unsure what she wanted. When Bruiser stared at him, she was trying to tell him she wanted something. Steve wasn’t sure if it was the same with ferrets.
Galadriel turned suddenly without warning and snatched a set of keys off the counter and hopped down to the floor with the help of one of the dining stools. Steve opened his mouth to say, what exactly he wasn’t sure. ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to do that?’ Shit, he didn’t know. It didn’t seem like ferrets listened like dogs did. He closed his mouth and just watched, wide-eyed, as Galadriel slithered her long white body under couch, dragging the keys with her.
It was fine. He’d just tell Eddie when he came back out.
Steve stepped further into the kitchen, taking the opportunity to look around. You could tell a lot about a person’s habits by their kitchen, he thought. Eddie didn’t have any of the usual ingredients you’d expect to see on the counters. In tall glass jars people typically kept sugar and flour and oats in, there were instead all kinds of unidentifiable dried plant parts and oils and powders and… he didn’t know what. One of the jars he would swear was filled with shriveled up frog’s feet. He had to be wrong.
There was something boiling on the stove, something that looked like a soup or stew, though he couldn’t identify exactly what kind. Steve went to the stove. This was an opportunity. He could compliment Eddie on his cooking. Or, another possibility, he could impress Eddie with his cooking knowledge. Steve was really more of a baker than a cook, but he was good at figuring out which spices and flavors worked well together.
Before he could think too hard about it, because Steve did his best work improvising, he picked up the wooden spoon Eddie had obviously been using to stir and tasted the soup. It was… interesting. Kind of sour and citrusy but also woody? It was also, definitely and decidedly, not good. Steve grimaced.
Eddie’s footsteps sounded from the hallway as he came back into the main living area. “Found it! She somehow buried it in the bottom of the hamper, I don’t know how she does this shit, I’m so sor-” Eddie stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Steve standing there with the wooden spoon in his hand.
Steve felt his face flush and hastily put the spoon down. Eddie had put a shirt on. Steve didn’t know if he should be relieved or regretful for that. “She, uh, stole your keys by the way,” Steve said. Because he wasn’t sure what else to say. He’d just been caught tasting his hot neighbors (terrible, absolutely horrible) dinner. He hadn’t considered how awkward it would be if he was caught.
Eddie was still staring at him with those big cow eyes. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, pulled out a set of keys and jingled them. “Decoy keys,” Eddie said faintly.
“Oh,” Steve said.
“Please tell me you didn’t taste what was in that pot,” Eddie said, his voice still faint, almost like he was afraid to voice the question.
They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment. Steve heard Galadriel pull herself out from under the couch before she streaked down the hallway in a clatter of keys and claws. His hand itched to run through his hair anxiously.
He sucked in a breath. “Listen, dude, you have got to throw out this soup, it is unsalvageable.”
Eddie groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
Steve rushed to fix it, hands fluttering, pleading. “I’ll show you how to make Greek chicken soup, it’ll go great with these buns I’m making, you’ll love it!”
Eddie groaned again, higher pitched this time like he was strangling a scream. “You can’t just walk into somebody’s kitchen and taste their soup!” he said, muffled into his palms.
“I know, it was weird, I’m sorry. I do stuff without thinking sometimes,” Steve said, grimacing.
Eddie growled and threw his arms out to his sides, always so expressive, drawing Steve’s eye. “What if it wasn’t soup, huh? What if it was like, poison or something?”
Steve blinked dumbly. “Why would you be cooking poison soup on your stove? Wait, who are you cooking poison soup for?”
“It wasn’t poison!” Eddie yelled, and seriously, the guy was way more distraught that what a simple awkward soup tasting called for.
“That’s good,” Steve said. They were quiet for a moment, and Eddie continued to look stressed out. He tugged some of his long hair in front of his face as if to hide. Steve couldn’t help himself. “Although, it could maybe double as poison? Because tasting it kinda made me wanna die.”
Eddie clapped his hands over his face again and let out a hysterical little laugh. “God, you are so bitchy,” he groaned.
Steve shrugged, though he was pretty sure Eddie couldn’t see it.
There was another long moment of silence while Eddie seemed to try to collect himself. He let his hands drop away from his face, rolled out his neck and shoulders. He gave Steve a considering look. Steve gave him a cocky smirk, not really sure what the situation called for but always of the philosophy that when in doubt, flirt.
Suddenly Galadriel came skittering back up the hallway, dragging what looked like a pair of boxers with flaming skulls patterned on them. Eddie sighed and buried his face in his hands again.
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thank you so much to @bookworm0690 for being my sensitivity reader for this! Also thank you to @matchingbatbites for screaming about Galadriel with me in the gc! as she put it, Galadriel is "Gaia's most annoying little soldier"
