I'm sure it'll sound like music to my ears to hear a car horn again.
[he needs to dress. needs to down a shot or three, brush his teeth to wash away the taste and smell of it. douse himself off with a wet cloth, just little Self Care Things. ]
[ With House sensing there's no time like the present, he only gets half an hour to cram in all of that self care before his ride turns up. In the driver's seat, House is wrapped in a sheepskin coat, a hand-knitted wool hat, and aviator-style sunglasses which appear to have been made by someone with only a passing knowledge of what they're supposed to look like.
He pulls the cart up outside of Jim's little cabin and lays on the horn, expecting the usual Imperial March melody -- instead, it's the loud, long blat of an ocean liner coming into harbor. Whoops.
Just to make it clear, House shouts over the top of it: ]
Sorry! That one wasn't me! Might need to light a match! [ And so on. ]
[It is not music to his ears. It is a terrible drone, he can still hear it even when the sound tapers off into an echo. When he hobbles out of the cabin, Jim looks more put together than he feels, wrapped in a coat that is sheepskin lined and and a hat that is drawn right down to his eyebrows.
He says: ] If I could muster the energy for it I'd knock you out.
[Anyway, he's getting into the passenger seat, thank you House, very kind of you house. ] You bring my panties?
[ The passenger seat is cold and damp and smells a little bit like goat. As Jim arrives, House is in the business of lighting himself a cigarette. He shakes out the match and glances over at his passenger. ]
Nah, I'm saving them for a rainy day. I like having something to sniff when I'm bored.
[ He sticks the cigarette between his teeth, guns the engine and pulls out. The tracks through the forest are not made for wheels and the golf cart isn't made for cross-country driving over anything more challenging than a well manicured green; between that and the frozen, uneven ground of the forest, there's a lot of turbulence. Jim might want to hold on to something.
As they go along through the underbrush, House fishes in the pocket of his coat and produces a small bottle, which he offers over to Hopper without taking his eyes off the "road". ]
[The cold damp is about what he's been sleeping on, lately. The vial, however, gets a wary glance. ]
Is that opium? [Once again, Jim Hopper simply feels like a high school Don't Do Drugs poster. Are you being pressured by friends to take drugs? Yes. Wonderful distraction from the thought of House sniffing his panties, to which he is horrifically not revolted by.]
[ House keeps the vial held out, driving one handed, teeth still gritted around his smoke. It's all a bit Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, he can't exactly blame Hopper for being hesitant.
They bump and bounce down the trail. House doesn't seem particularly interested in going slowly in the name of safety, either. ]
Only 10%, great. [He's taking it, obviously, and downing it one go. The driving is fine; if anything it is fairly nostalgic of driving with Joyce, hunting down Russian agents. Or, it could be the three shots making him sentimental.
In any case, one hand is gripping the side beam. ] Thanks, appreciate it. If I start slurring my words, at least make sure you throw me into a bed.
Just don't do anything dangerous, like try to drive.
[ Says the man who has already dosed himself before leaving the warmth of his own cabin. Not that he was completely sober at that point. His own hangover is a problem he's pushing ahead of him, like a Sisyphean boulder.
It's not long before they hit the main track between the farmlands and the town. House swings them around, careless of Hopper's fragile state. He smokes as he drives, enjoying the familiarity of it, then companionably offers the cigarette to Jim as well. ]
Did you see Stephen's magic tricks last night? You think he does bar mitzvahs?
[The former gets the wryest look he muster. Then he's simply pretending he is not clinging on for dear life, like he's totally fine and not about hurl if he lurches any harder.
Great to be a white guy from the 80's, wonderful -] Oh, you should ask him. I'm sure he'll love that. [Jim would absolutely love that, privately. Alone.] I think he was just showing off. He likes to show off.
Oh, if it's so you win the pool then sure. I'll get right on it.
[His sexuality crisis is going GREAT thanks for asking!] Well, more than I am. Already. [ahem. anyway. ] Can you slow down on the bumps, please. Think of your cart, House.
[ He's not slowing down. In fact, he makes a point of swerving around a farmer heading out to the fields in the other direction, giving her a merry wave as they go past. ]
John wants a double date. I think we should go bowling.
Monster truck rallies. I've missed The Destroyer verses Raminator and Monster Jam. Do you know how much I paid for those tickets?
[ He's being completely honest and also mostly griping to himself at this point. They're coming up on the town, the walls visible through the trees as they rattle and bounce down the track. House takes one last drag on his cigarette, then pitches the butt into the trees. Littering, the very least of his crimes.
This time House elects not to use his parking space (the disabled parking bay is carefully outlined in chalk beside the gate, along with a small sign identifying it as for Doctor House's use only), but drives on through. The guards on the gate are surprised, but they recognise the men in the cart, and they get waved into the town. House gives them a salute as they go past, slowing down as the dirt track turns into the cobbles of the streets, out of consideration for the cart's suspension if nothing else. ]
So, boarding house, right? [ He takes the turn towards it. ] What are we picking up? Contraband?
Yeah, that does track somehow. [Monster trucks. That he paid for tickets. He can see it.
As for the why:] Yeah, something like that. You're waiting for me? [Hmmm. Hmm. He's weighing this. On one hand, his reputation as a youth cockblock may be ruined. On the other, he can give Eddie a piece of his mind and House at the same time. Two birds, one stone.
On the third hard, he doubts House will ever let him live this tantrum down. ] You don't have to.
[ He does, in fact, have at least two things, but he's reasonably confident they'll both still be waiting for him in bed when he gets back. And this will give him a little more insight into what Hopper does in his spare time. Valuable information in certain circles.
The cart hums through the narrow streets. House pulls in beside the gate to the yard in front of the boarding house and cuts off the engine. ]
Okay buddy, meter's running. Oh, pick me up some breakfast while you're in there.
Lucky me, [he says before he removes his damp behind from House's damp passenger seat.
He does grab something bread-like and something fruit-like on his way to the quarters. Something that looks passably breakfast-ish, anyway. They're shoved into his pockets as he stalks through the halls with purpose, with intention.
Straight to Eddie's room, where he is mercifully the only who bothered to come home last night, it seems. For a long, long moment he stands in the doorway, breathing out harshly through his nose. He takes in Eddie sleeping, even if may just be pretending to be asleep. The softness of his face, the way his hair pools in messy curls. The way his limbs poke out from the blanket, stretched out across the three mattresses pushed together.
He almost feels fond. Except, of course, that he is exceptionally cross. ] I know you're awake, [is what Jim says before he crosses the distance into the room and tugs Eddie by the ankle. ] Up. Now. We're going.
( it's the feeling of being watched that draws eddie out of a really comfortable sleep, a great dream that he's already forgetting but involves a really hot hookup in a dark bar, music blaring and his heart pounding. he's drawn back to a body that's actually sore in a lot of places, but in a good way. the right sort of soreness at the back of his throat that'll make his voice more like a purr than a drawl.
eddie's on his stomach, always been a stomach sleeper when he's alone. he licks his lips, snuffling and rubbing his face into the pillow he's been drooling on as the hand underneath said pillow for the knife he snagged from jim's room when its previous owner was off fishing. he doesn't reach it before the intruder -- actually jim hopper -- speaks. he almost takes the bait, almost grumbles when he's tugged. instead he yelps. ) What the fuck!
( he lifts his head, looks over his shoulder and the mass of grown out curls he's rocking, to glare at jim hopper. ) Why are you here? What time is it? No. No, I'm too hungover for this.
( it's mostly said into the mattress and blankets as he grabs at the headboard for leverage, kicks his leg to get hopper off of him. )
[Ooooh no he doesn't. Jim's got a hold of that ankle with one hand, then two. He gives a good 'ole haul and pull right until Eddie's at the edge of the bed, within grabbing distance. He goes for his middle; grabs him around it with both arms, blanket included, and heaves him over one shoulder. ]
We need to have a little chat, I think. [This is all he gets. He's too busy bracing for Eddie to start wriggling himself free, walking briskly back down the way he came. If there's some mercy in this world, the blanket is hopefully swaddling him in place. ]
About WHAT? ( eddie growls, still not awake enough to be manhandled out of his own bed like a runaway bride. except there's no one else in the bed with him, no one he's slipped out on hopper with since they'd had their little moment the night before.
eddie had promised to be normal about this so he's not really putting two and two together about why he's suddenly swaddled, lifted out of bed with strength he figured hopper didn't have with the state of his back. there's a moment, a long moment, where all his brain fills with is radio static because being hauled out of his bed with that brute of force does something to his dick. that's what keeps him still, actually, and is his downfall. )
Hop. We talked yesterday. ( it hadn't been eddie's proudest moment but it had felt final, even with the cloudy memory. when hopper doesn't let him down he sighs, still squirming. ) At least let me put on some underwear!
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[ It'll sound like a foghorn. Right outside Jim's window. ]
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[he needs to dress. needs to down a shot or three, brush his teeth to wash away the taste and smell of it. douse himself off with a wet cloth, just little Self Care Things. ]
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He pulls the cart up outside of Jim's little cabin and lays on the horn, expecting the usual Imperial March melody -- instead, it's the loud, long blat of an ocean liner coming into harbor. Whoops.
Just to make it clear, House shouts over the top of it: ]
Sorry! That one wasn't me! Might need to light a match! [ And so on. ]
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He says: ] If I could muster the energy for it I'd knock you out.
[Anyway, he's getting into the passenger seat, thank you House, very kind of you house. ] You bring my panties?
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Nah, I'm saving them for a rainy day. I like having something to sniff when I'm bored.
[ He sticks the cigarette between his teeth, guns the engine and pulls out. The tracks through the forest are not made for wheels and the golf cart isn't made for cross-country driving over anything more challenging than a well manicured green; between that and the frozen, uneven ground of the forest, there's a lot of turbulence. Jim might want to hold on to something.
As they go along through the underbrush, House fishes in the pocket of his coat and produces a small bottle, which he offers over to Hopper without taking his eyes off the "road". ]
Better than hair of the dog.
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Is that opium? [Once again, Jim Hopper simply feels like a high school Don't Do Drugs poster. Are you being pressured by friends to take drugs? Yes. Wonderful distraction from the thought of House sniffing his panties, to which he is horrifically not revolted by.]
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[ House keeps the vial held out, driving one handed, teeth still gritted around his smoke. It's all a bit Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, he can't exactly blame Hopper for being hesitant.
They bump and bounce down the trail. House doesn't seem particularly interested in going slowly in the name of safety, either. ]
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In any case, one hand is gripping the side beam. ] Thanks, appreciate it. If I start slurring my words, at least make sure you throw me into a bed.
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[ Says the man who has already dosed himself before leaving the warmth of his own cabin. Not that he was completely sober at that point. His own hangover is a problem he's pushing ahead of him, like a Sisyphean boulder.
It's not long before they hit the main track between the farmlands and the town. House swings them around, careless of Hopper's fragile state. He smokes as he drives, enjoying the familiarity of it, then companionably offers the cigarette to Jim as well. ]
Did you see Stephen's magic tricks last night? You think he does bar mitzvahs?
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Great to be a white guy from the 80's, wonderful -] Oh, you should ask him. I'm sure he'll love that. [Jim would absolutely love that, privately. Alone.] I think he was just showing off. He likes to show off.
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Yeah, I got that from the fact that he calls himself Doctor Strange.
[ He glances briefly at Hopper, assessing if he's likely to throw up or fall off. The goat is a better passenger than this. ]
You should start sleeping together. Preferably soon. If it's before spring I win the pool.
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[His sexuality crisis is going GREAT thanks for asking!] Well, more than I am. Already. [ahem. anyway. ] Can you slow down on the bumps, please. Think of your cart, House.
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[ He's not slowing down. In fact, he makes a point of swerving around a farmer heading out to the fields in the other direction, giving her a merry wave as they go past. ]
John wants a double date. I think we should go bowling.
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[Affectionate. His guts stay inside, for now. ] Oh, sure. Here I was thinking go karting was more your speed.
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[ He's being completely honest and also mostly griping to himself at this point. They're coming up on the town, the walls visible through the trees as they rattle and bounce down the track. House takes one last drag on his cigarette, then pitches the butt into the trees. Littering, the very least of his crimes.
This time House elects not to use his parking space (the disabled parking bay is carefully outlined in chalk beside the gate, along with a small sign identifying it as for Doctor House's use only), but drives on through. The guards on the gate are surprised, but they recognise the men in the cart, and they get waved into the town. House gives them a salute as they go past, slowing down as the dirt track turns into the cobbles of the streets, out of consideration for the cart's suspension if nothing else. ]
So, boarding house, right? [ He takes the turn towards it. ] What are we picking up? Contraband?
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As for the why:] Yeah, something like that. You're waiting for me? [Hmmm. Hmm. He's weighing this. On one hand, his reputation as a youth cockblock may be ruined. On the other, he can give Eddie a piece of his mind and House at the same time. Two birds, one stone.
On the third hard, he doubts House will ever let him live this tantrum down. ] You don't have to.
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[ He does, in fact, have at least two things, but he's reasonably confident they'll both still be waiting for him in bed when he gets back. And this will give him a little more insight into what Hopper does in his spare time. Valuable information in certain circles.
The cart hums through the narrow streets. House pulls in beside the gate to the yard in front of the boarding house and cuts off the engine. ]
Okay buddy, meter's running. Oh, pick me up some breakfast while you're in there.
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He does grab something bread-like and something fruit-like on his way to the quarters. Something that looks passably breakfast-ish, anyway. They're shoved into his pockets as he stalks through the halls with purpose, with intention.
Straight to Eddie's room, where he is mercifully the only who bothered to come home last night, it seems. For a long, long moment he stands in the doorway, breathing out harshly through his nose. He takes in Eddie sleeping, even if may just be pretending to be asleep. The softness of his face, the way his hair pools in messy curls. The way his limbs poke out from the blanket, stretched out across the three mattresses pushed together.
He almost feels fond. Except, of course, that he is exceptionally cross. ] I know you're awake, [is what Jim says before he crosses the distance into the room and tugs Eddie by the ankle. ] Up. Now. We're going.
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eddie's on his stomach, always been a stomach sleeper when he's alone. he licks his lips, snuffling and rubbing his face into the pillow he's been drooling on as the hand underneath said pillow for the knife he snagged from jim's room when its previous owner was off fishing. he doesn't reach it before the intruder -- actually jim hopper -- speaks. he almost takes the bait, almost grumbles when he's tugged. instead he yelps. ) What the fuck!
( he lifts his head, looks over his shoulder and the mass of grown out curls he's rocking, to glare at jim hopper. ) Why are you here? What time is it? No. No, I'm too hungover for this.
( it's mostly said into the mattress and blankets as he grabs at the headboard for leverage, kicks his leg to get hopper off of him. )
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[Ooooh no he doesn't. Jim's got a hold of that ankle with one hand, then two. He gives a good 'ole haul and pull right until Eddie's at the edge of the bed, within grabbing distance. He goes for his middle; grabs him around it with both arms, blanket included, and heaves him over one shoulder. ]
We need to have a little chat, I think. [This is all he gets. He's too busy bracing for Eddie to start wriggling himself free, walking briskly back down the way he came. If there's some mercy in this world, the blanket is hopefully swaddling him in place. ]
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eddie had promised to be normal about this so he's not really putting two and two together about why he's suddenly swaddled, lifted out of bed with strength he figured hopper didn't have with the state of his back. there's a moment, a long moment, where all his brain fills with is radio static because being hauled out of his bed with that brute of force does something to his dick. that's what keeps him still, actually, and is his downfall. )
Hop. We talked yesterday. ( it hadn't been eddie's proudest moment but it had felt final, even with the cloudy memory. when hopper doesn't let him down he sighs, still squirming. ) At least let me put on some underwear!
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cw: ref to additudes toward homosexuality in the 80s
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