Samuel--Home

[nola_quicksilver]

The front door rattled when Oliver kicked it shut behind him. Belatedly, he remembered that this particular pair of shoes loved leaving prints on the plain white paint, but oh well, what's done is done, and his hands were full.

"Hey, Sam," he called into the apartment at large. Oliver assumed Samuel was home because he was emailed a detailed spreadsheet listing Sam's upcoming work schedule on the first of every month. Also, his bedroom light was on. "A new coffee place just opened down the street and they're giving out free coffee."

Carefully, he started setting down the six huge lattes he'd poached from the frazzled barista who'd been distracted by trying to create legible foam art. The lid on one was loose, sending a splash of coffee on the counter, but even still, Oliver put his hands on his hips and looked down on his bounty like a proud father.

Six! This might be enough to get him through the overnight shift at the tattoo parlor.

But then, with a pang of conscience, he called out, "I guess you can have one of mine."

Comments

[nola_cyclops]

When Sam closed the door, it didn't rattle. Because he used his hands to gently complete the closure. He wasn't an animal. From inside his room, he sighed.

Still, the offer of coffee was a nice one, and Sam wouldn't say no to a cup. "Thank you..." And he did need to talk to Oliver. He moved into the living area, about to respond further, but then he took it all in.

Oliver, a whirlwind. A smudge on the door. Coffee on the counter alongside six coffee cups (too many by any reasonable standard, come on).

He grimaced.

"Oliver, I think we need to talk."

[nola_quicksilver]

"They're still open, you can get more," Oliver said defensively, but somehow he figured this wasn't about not sharing enough coffee.

[nola_cyclops]

"We have enough coffee to power a small village. And to ruin a village, subsequently, on the other side of the world, with related shoddy coffee harvest practices." Six cups?? Seriously, Oliver?

[nola_quicksilver]

"They're fair trade," he said indignantly, which he only knew because he'd been bored waiting in line. "I'm not a monster."

[nola_cyclops]

"I'm not convinced," Sam said, mildly. But he did note that response with a quiet sort of satisfaction. It really did make him feel better about the excess. "But we need to talk about the apartment."

[nola_quicksilver]

"The rent check's been cashed, it's fine." He knew this wasn't what Sam wanted to talk about, but God, he couldn't face it. The splash of coffee stayed still on the counter, as defiant as he felt.

[nola_cyclops]

"It's more than --" Sam couldn't stand it. He went over to the counter to wipe up the coffee stain, then wiped down the whole surface as he talked. "It's more than that, Oliver. It's about the state of things. The cleanliness."

[nola_quicksilver]

"It's a little coffee that literally just spilled," Oliver said, voice tight. "We're not exactly wallowing in filth here."

[nola_cyclops]

"And you were going to just leave it there? Stains set, Oliver. And there's the door. Again." Was this unreasonable? Sam couldn't tell, but honestly, was it so hard to keep things in order?

[nola_quicksilver]

"I'll get a Magic Eraser, it'll be fine." He did not, actually, know if it'd be fine, but he felt committed to selling this as no big deal. "And the landlord's just going to steal the deposit anyway, so why bother going overboard keeping it pristine?"

[nola_cyclops]

“Have you ever heard of having pride in your home? I mean, evidently not, because something is always out of order with you.” Samuel just didn’t understand why none of this mattered to Oliver. “You baffle me. Look at you, not a hair out of place, perfect clothes... you actually look perfect, but your home doesn’t get a tenth of the same care.”

[nola_quicksilver]

"Well, excuse my natural beauty," Oliver said flatly. "You know I don't own this place, right?"

[nola_cyclops]

“Why does that matter? Seriously, why does that matter? We still have to live here.” Samuel would not excuse his beauty, thank you very much.

[nola_quicksilver]

"Because why would I give something so much care if I don't own it? I mean, I own my body." Why couldn't Samuel follow simple logic?

[nola_cyclops]

Okay, this was a poor analogy. “I don’t care about your body!” Sam said snappishly, frayed by his own impatience.

[nola_quicksilver]

"I don't know, you seem really interested in its upkeep."

[nola_cyclops]

Oliver was the worst. "It was an analogy for -- you can keep it however you want, but that's not going to make this a nicer apartment to live in."

[nola_quicksilver]

"It might if I walked around naked more often." Oliver widened his eyes for effect. "Is that what you want?"

[nola_cyclops]

"I'm trying to talk to you about cho-- why would that be what I want?" Sam wanted no smudges on the paint and no spills on the counter! That wasn't even nudity-adjacent!

[nola_quicksilver]

"You're the one who keeps bringing up how incredibly attractive I am, so it's an easy leap." Oliver moved to pull his shirt over his head. "I mean, if it'll make you happy—"

In other words, please, please let this be enough for him to go back in his room and get off my back.

[nola_cyclops]

"I never called you attractive--" No, Sam had definitely never called Oliver attractive. Not once. And he could not believe Oliver right now, who was so desperate to avoid taking some accountability for the state of their home that he was taking his shirt off! Obviously trying to get some kind of reaction from Sam! It was just pathetic, really. He rolled his eyes, but once they had finished their revolution, they landed squarely on Oliver's bare chest.

Huh.

"So you do know what a clean surface looks like," Sam retorted, but he knew it was a weak retort. He wasn't going to even get to show Oliver his chore wheel tonight, was he?

[nola_quicksilver]

"You definitely said something about how hot and perfect I look all the time. I remember it like it was five minutes ago."

While Oliver wasn't heavily tattooed, favoring quality over quantity, he was used to people taking a good look at the ink he did have hiding under his clothes—bright, dynamic, and highly illustrative pieces with lots of splashes of blue and green—that he didn't give a second thought to Sam staring a little.

"And yes, I do know what a clean surface look like. The entire counter is one, except for that one tiny coffee splash."

[nola_cyclops]

"Do you know how annoying you are?" Sam could feel himself losing this argument and he was furious at himself for it. And okay, sure, whatever, Oliver was objectively perfect looking. But that had nothing to do with the way he completely ignored spills and stains and correct places for various household objects. His attractive lines and surprisingly -- emotional? -- ink was not relevant to this conversation or to Sam's life. Okay? Okay.

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver smiled sweetly and picked up a latte, taking a sip before he answered, "Yeah, my mom tells me that all the time."

[nola_cyclops]

"My condolences to your entire family." Sam reached up with one hand to rub at one of his temples -- a headache was coming.