Work Text:
It’s not the worst gig in the world.
It’s definitely not the best gig in the world, but it is most certainly not the worst, either.
Still, Eddie hates coming to this building. Hates most high-rises, actually. Most of them are just soulless hunks of steel and concrete hovering over the city skyline like watchers, keeping guard over who the fuck knows what, and not even having the decency to be interesting while they’re at it.
At least this building is what Eddie would call mildly interesting, even if he hates nearly everything about all fifty floors of it. The money coming in from his clients here is decent and all, but the elevator creeps him the fuck out every time he has a job at 18442 Dickinson. And it’s not even that he has a particular fear of heights or enclosed spaces, really. The truth is that the whole building just really creeps him out, despite at least having some character. Gothic architecture just seems wholly out of place among the sea of cookie-cutter post-modern apartment houses and office buildings lining the bustling streets of downtown.
Despite having been dragged into the modern era with the implementation of state-of-the-art modern amenities like those supremely annoying fuck-off bright lighting fixtures and smart everything from fridges to dishwashers to thermostats to alarm systems, the building still somehow manages to maintain that unnervingly creepy atmosphere. Plus the cell reception is absolute shit in the elevator, which drives Eddie insane every time he has to meet with a client here. He’s lost track of how many times he’s dropped calls on the never-ending ride back down to the land of the living.
The reason is something to do with the mid-century construction, or so they say. Apparently post-war hysteria around the arms race, the hype about fallout shelters, and duck-and-cover drills really seems to have done a number on the people of their fair city back in the day. Dickinson was a modern-day fortress, at least according to the builders and fat cats who sold the apartment units back in the 1950s.
As for today — it’s eclectic, they claim. A throwback to a simpler time. Stately. Refined.
Though Eddie cannot imagine what was simpler or what could possibly be nostalgic about school kids hiding beneath their desks to escape the threat of nuclear winter. As if some poorly-constructed resin furniture would do any good at all against radiation poisoning.
But to those ‘in the know,’ Dickinson is one of the most sought-after addresses in the metro area today.
Fucking creep show is more like it, if you ask Eddie. Who the fuck are those menacing-looking gargoyles even for, anyhow? So, yeah. You could say that the appeal of living in a place like The Dick, as he and his friends are wont to call it, is entirely lost on Eddie Munson.
And to be fair, you would think that a building that boasts modern amenities like household appliances that can give you the fucking daily weather forecast in Dumbfuckingsburg, Nowhere would at least have decent cell coverage throughout.
Maybe he’s just in a mood.
After all, the money here is just as green as anybody else’s, and who is he to cast aspersions on the well-to-do for wanting to live in a place they love. Even if the thing that irks him most of all is that so few of the people he crosses paths with in this part of town ever really actually seem to love living here.
He heaves a labored sigh as he adjusts the strap of his guitar case while he waits for the elevator to make the seemingly eternal trek up from the dregs of wherever the fuck it is currently up to the 32nd floor. He lets his mind wander as he pulls his phone from his messenger bag one-handed, juggling his bottle of water as he double-checks to be sure that the payment from the Sinclairs has come through for their precious baby angel’s guitar lessons.
Wait. That’s not fair.
It’s been a long week.
He shakes his head in an effort to cut the unkind thoughts free. The Sinclair kid is a decent enough guy. Not his fault that his folks are well off. And he does have a pretty solid talent for reading and writing music, so … there’s that. His younger sister is another story altogether with her sarcastic attitude and all, but all in all the Sinclair kids are alright.
Eddie tucks the water bottle under his arm and double-checks his calendar to make sure that he has all of young Lucas and Erica’s upcoming lessons on the books before returning his phone to his bag. He tries again to shake off his bad mood, reminding himself once again — private guitar lessons for spoiled rich kids (even if they are good kids like the Sinclair kids and not quite so spoiled) to help augment his work as a studio musician is definitely not the worst gig in the world.
Fuck, he really is in a supremely shitty mood, and for no real reason he can pinpoint. Maybe he needs to get laid. He chuckles softly to himself, shaking his head.
‘Sex isn’t the answer for everything, Munson,’ he mumbles to himself with a smile. ‘Would sure be fun to give it a try though,’ he giggles.
Jesus Christ, now he’s talking to himself. He sighs, resigned to the fact that what he really needs to do is just go home and get some food and a few beers into his system so he can just shake the tension free.
The elevator dings to announce its arrival (finally!) at his floor and he hurriedly makes his way through the opening doors, his impatience causing him to catch the upper corner of his guitar case on the door as it slides open. He’s no sooner crossed the threshold into the elevator car when his strap breaks, causing the case to fall directly against the panel of call buttons, illuminating numbers 45 and 41.
“MotherFUCKER!” Eddie yelps as he drops his water bottle, spilling half the contents onto the pristine marble floor of the elevator car. He scrambles to right his now damaged case and regain his bearings, groaning at the puddle at his feet. He looks in vain for some way to cancel the selections, finding none. “God dammit,” he seethes as he contemplates the coming torture of not only riding this creepy-ass elevator down 32 floors as he had initially planned, but now going UP an additional 13 stories before finally making his eventual escape out of The Dick for the evening. He begrudgingly smashes his fingertip into the “G” button, supremely annoyed at the turn of events that will now keep him here even longer.
All he can do is hope that the fucking thing doesn’t stop at every fucking floor along the way. Because that will DEFINITELY sour his mood even more than it already is.
‘What the hell is my problem today?’ He thinks as the elevator makes its slow progress up to the 41st floor. He digs through his messenger bag in search of a tissue or paper towel or just anything to try and sop up the puddle of water at his feet before the doors open. He breathes a sigh of relief when the doors open and nobody is waiting. One stop down, one more to go and then he can try to get on with his evening.
He continues to rummage through his bag, coming up empty for any solutions to his puddle issue. He finally settles on taking off his scarf and dropping it to the floor to try and sop up the small spill. “Of fucking course,” he mutters as the elevator doors open once again, this time at the 45th floor. He spares an absent-minded glance at the open door, completely indifferent at this point to whether somebody is standing there or not.
He’s just bending to retrieve his now nearly ruined scarf when he hears the warm, rich baritone of his new companion over his shoulder.
“You getting off?” Says the man as he holds the door open.
Eddie rolls his eyes as he straightens to his full height, struggling to force the dampened scarf into one of the pockets of his bag. “Does it look like I’m getting off?” he says as he turns to look at the man who is now annoying him almost as much as the rest of this shit-ass evening already has.
The man is unfairly attractive.
And that pisses Eddie off almost more than anything else about his current situation. Because of fucking COURSE the guy is painfully pretty. And of course Eddie is crossing this guy’s path when his mood is at such a fucking low. How is he meant to be charming for the pretty stranger when he’s feeling so bitchy?
Handsome Stranger casts his eyes along the length of Eddie’s body, smirking slightly as he cocks an eyebrow, his gaze lingering a beat longer than normal at Eddie’s crotch. “Actually, I suppose not.”
“What?”
“I said … I suppose it doesn’t look it. Getting off, that is,” he says as he gestures vaguely in the direction of Eddie’s dick with a wave of his hand. “But as for the elevator — is this your floor or are you just taking a fun little ride for yourself?”
“Har har har,” Eddie scoffs as he finishes shoving his scarf into his bag with a huff. “No. Not my floor. Fucking guitar case smashed into a couple of buttons and so here I am, taking a fun little ride for myself. I’m trying to get out of this fucking place, actually,” he grumbles as he smashes the button for the ground floor once again.
“Alright man, sorry! Jeez,” the man says as he steps back to allow the door to close, chuckling softly to himself as he pointedly avoids the hastily cleaned up spill on the floor. “Did you piss in here or something? What’s with the wet spot?”
“Yes. Of course. You’re exactly correct, random stranger. I pissed in the fucking elevator like a goddamn animal. The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Jesus, dude, okay! Fuck. I was just joking, relax! Man, this is going to be a long ride down to the lobby. Sorry I said anything,” he grumbles as he steps further away from Eddie’s seething form.
Eddie glares for a moment before he turns his attention to the changing LED screen inside the elevator ticking down floor by floor at a snail’s pace. The guy does have a point — this is going to be a very long, awkward ride. No point in sulking.
“Look man, I don’t mean to be a dick. Just having a crappy day I guess. And for the record, I spilled some water,” Eddie finally says to break the awkward silence.
The pretty stranger shrugs, a wary smile creeping across his face. “Figured it was water. Doesn’t smell like a urinal in here or anything. Sorry you’re having a shit day. I’m Steve, by the way.”
“Eddie,” Eddie says with a nod as he extends his hand. “Sorry to be such a dick. I’m usually much more charming than this, I promise.”
Steve accepts Eddie’s offered hand and winks. “Yeah? Well, we have … 40 more floors for you to wow me with your charm. Since I’ve kind of already seen your wit and sunny disposition and all.”
Eddie cocks an eyebrow and ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, man. I don’t know what my deal is today. Just … on edge, I guess.”
“No big deal. Happens to the best of us. So … I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Did you just move in?”
“Me? No — fuck no. I don’t live here. Just here for a client.”
“Wow. Not ‘no’ but ‘fuck no,’ huh? Not a fan of this neighborhood, I take it?” Steve says with a smirk, his eyebrows raised.
“Nah, man. Too rich for my blood. I’m not fit to rub shoulders with the stodgy elites in this part of town. No offense.”
“Well … maybe some offense,” Steve says with a laugh. “But I see your point — some of the residents here can be a bit … much, let’s just say.”
“Yeah. Let’s just,” Eddie replies, his face flushing pink. “That sounded way better in my head, for what it’s worth. And the people I’ve actually met seem okay, I guess. I just don’t get the appeal of the place. Light speed into the 21st century with all the smart kitchen appliances and amenities and yet …” he continues as he fishes his phone out of his bag and checks his signal, “yep. As usual. No fucking bars. How is that even possible?”
“You’re not wrong,” Steve says, checking his own phone. “That’s actually my least favorite thing about this place as well. This elevator is a black hole. But it’s not all bad. Being right in the heart of the City is nice.”
“Come on, man. Stepping into this elevator is like stepping into an alternate dimension,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Plus — it’s agonizingly s-l-o-w. We’ve barely moved in all this time — we’re going to be retirement age before we make it to the lobby.”
“Fair enough,” Steve replies, a smile lighting his sparkling hazel eyes. “So you said you’re here for a client? What do you do?”
Eddie nods as he gestures to his guitar case. “Yeah. Guitar lessons. For the Sinclair kids? You know them? On the 32nd floor?”
“Ah! Yes, I think I do know them. Brother and sister, right? She’s a bit more over-the-top than her older brother?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Eddie says with a laugh. “Miss Erica is not for the faint of heart, to be sure.”
“She’s a sarcastic little shit is what she is,” Steve says, smiling. “But they both seem to be good kids.”
“Yeah. I started out teaching Luc—“ Eddie begins, before being cut off by a sudden lurch accompanied by an unsettling grinding noise as the elevator lights flicker and die, the elevator coming to an abrupt stop and tossing both men to the floor.
“JESUS CHRIST!” Eddie shouts as he finds himself sprawled awkwardly atop Steve, the two of them crumpled into a heap against the wall of the elevator car. “What the fuck is happening?” he exclaims as he struggles to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs that they’ve become, his heart racing as he struggles to feel his way in the dark.
“You okay?” Steve asks as he moves to stand. Eddie feels Steve’s hand on his upper arm as the man seeks to steady him and help him to his feet.
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’m not hurt. Are you okay?”
“Yep. I’m good. Though if you wanted to throw yourself at me you didn’t have to be quite so literal about it.”
“Seriously, dude. What the fuck happened?” Eddie says, his already fragile nerves threatening to break. He sighs audibly as the bulbs of the emergency lighting flicker to life, washing the interior of the elevator car in dim, sickly yellow light.
Steve shrugs as he crosses the small space to the operating panel on the wall. “Not sure. Could be a power outage, or the elevator might just be stuck,” he says over his shoulder as he presses the Emergency call button.
“Stuck? What do you mean stuck?” Eddie says, his mouth going dry at the thought. “You mean like trapped? Like we’re trapped in this fucking elevator?” He asks, his heart racing.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.
“Relax. I pushed the emergency button — we just have to hang tight until they call back. I’m sure it’s fine,” Steve says, his voice calm and sure. “You claustrophobic or something?”
“Um. I don’t know? I mean, I didn’t think I was. But now I’m not so sure. Has this kind of thing happened before?”
Steve shrugs and runs his fingers through his (thick, lush, luxurious) hair. “Uh. I don’t exactly know. I mean, I think maybe there’s been power outages before, but if that happens the elevator has a battery backup, and it’s supposed to take the elevator to the nearest floor and automatically open the doors so nobody gets stuck. Since that’s not happening here I’m leaning more toward just a simple malfunction,” he says as he casts a hopeful look in Eddie’s direction, his expression soft.
“The FUCK is a simple malfunction, Steve? We’re on like the 30th floor for fuck sake! What if this thing just falls or something?” Eddie exclaims as he thrusts his hands into his own hair and tugs.
“Okay, okay. Just relax. That’s not gonna happen.”
“How can you be so sure of that, hm? What are you, an architect or something?”
“Well, funny you should mention …”
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
Steve smiles, ducking his head slightly. “Well, yeah. But elevator repair and maintenance isn’t really in my wheelhouse. But even still — we’re really actually pretty safe in here, I promise. We just need to sit tight and wait for help.”
“We could run out of air. The cables could break or something. Jesus fuck. I’m never getting on another fucking elevator ever again.”
“Eddie,” Steve says as he places his hands firmly on Eddie’s shoulders, turning him slightly so he can look into his eyes, “listen to me, okay? There is plenty of air circulation. We aren’t going to run out of air. Here,” he says, guiding the two of them toward the wall, “let’s just sit down, okay? I promise, the cables aren’t going to break. And there are tons of safety measures in modern elevators. Brakes and buffers and circuit interrupters. It’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”
“Key word being modern, Steve. And this thing is stuck in some weird-ass time warp or something,” Eddie says, his eyes darting around the space, painfully close to fully panicking. “We should open that roof hatch or something, right? Isn’t that what they do in the movies?”
“Can’t open the hatch from inside. That’s movie logic. Those can only be opened from the outside, like for EMTs and stuff. They’re only meant for emergencies.”
“Um. We are stuck in an elevator, dude. And nobody has even responded to the emergency call. So, yeah, I think this qualifies. What exactly do you define as an emergency?”
“Like a fire or something.”
“Oh my GOD — what if the building is on fire?”
“We would hear the alarms.”
“We should call 911.”
“No, we need to wait for help.”
“Fuck off, man. I’m calling 911,” Eddie says as he shuffles over to grab his bag. He pulls his phone out, glaring at Steve as he settles back into place beside him on the floor. He swipes the screen awake, mumbling as he navigates to the dial pad and dials 911. He seethes as he waits for the call to connect, feeling his stomach drop when he receives a fast busy signal.
“So, what did they say? They sending the cavalry?”
“Oh fuck off, dude. Call failed. No fucking signal.”
“I tried to tell you,” Steve says, laughing.
“Maybe I can text someone for help,” Eddie says, his expression hopeful as his fingers fly over the keyboard.
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Why didn’t I think of that?” Steve snarks as he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “Remind me — do you need cell service or WiFi to send a text? I forget. Tell me, Eddie — what did they say?”
“Gahhhhh — motherFUCK! Message Failed to Send. You are such an asshole.” Eddie gulps as he notices the thick patch of chest hair peeking out from the open neckline of Steve’s shirt. He shakes it off and puts his phone away, his mouth even more parched suddenly.
“Oh, I’m sorry? I didn’t realize I was responsible for the structural shortcomings of this particular building. Which was built like eighty years before I was even born, but what do I know?” Steve replies as he unbuttons his cuffs and turns up his shirt sleeves, exposing his forearms. Which are insanely toned, but Eddie isn’t staring.
He’s not.
“What? Eighty years? What year were you fucking born?”
Steve laughs — a real laugh this time, not just one of the snarky ones they’ve shared since this whole disaster began. “I don’t fucking know man — I think this place was built back in like the 1920s or some shit.”
“I thought it was built in something like the 50s. But — hang on — you don’t know when you were born?” Eddie says, nudging Steve’s shoulder with a wink.
“Fuck off, you know what I meant. At least you’ve settled down some. You gonna be okay, or is another freakout on the horizon?”
“No way of telling, Steve. I mean, that all depends on how long we’re stuck in here.”
“Well, don’t worry. Even if they never respond to the alarm call, the residents here will be calling and raising hell once they discover that the elevator isn’t working. So either way, we’re golden.”
Eddie has his next snarky remark on deck when a voice comes through the small speaker on the elevator control panel.
18442 Dickinson - do you need assistance?
“Oh my god - YES! We’re stuck in the elevator!” Eddie shouts, scrambling toward the speaker in the panel.
Okay, thank you for confirming. I’ll alert emergency maintenance.
Do you know the nature of the stoppage or which floor you’re located near?
“How the fuck would we know —“
“Eddie. Calm down. It’s not her fault,” Steve says as he gently nudges Eddie away from the speaker so he can speak with the operator. “Uh, hi. So, we have no idea what happened — the car lurched and there were some grinding noises before it came to a stop. Not entirely sure but we think we might be somewhere near the 30th floor.”
Thank you, sir. Alerting emergency services and maintenance now.
How many people are inside the elevator car?
“Two,” Steve says, his voice calm and even.
Thank you. Are there any injuries or medical emergencies?
“No, we’re unharmed. Just eager to get down to the ground floor.”
Thank you. Please try to remain calm
and help will be there shortly.
“Uh — hello? What does ‘shortly’ mean, exactly?” Eddie says, leaning in again so his face is inches away from the speaker.
“Dude. It’s a speaker phone. She can hear you from where you were.”
“Shut up. Um, miss? Do you know how long it will be?”
No, I’m sorry. I can assure you I’ve placed the call
and someone will be there as soon as possible.
“Okay, thank you. Can you please let us know once you hear from the responders? It would be helpful,” Steve asks as he places a calming hand on Eddie’s shoulder.
Of course, Sir. I’ll be in touch as soon as possible.
Disconnecting now.
Eddie settles back against the wall as the call disconnects and draws his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead on his knee. “This really fucking sucks, man. No offense.”
“None taken. Trust me, I know this isn’t exactly an optimal way to get to know someone. But I’m kind of glad we ran into each other, even if the situation sucks.”
“Yeah, same,” Eddie says with a smile. He turns his head to look at Steve, resting his cheek on his knee. “Though if I had my choice I’d be far less edgy. Maybe I’d offer to buy you a drink or something in different circumstances, who knows?”
“Yeah? You’d buy me a drink, huh? Maybe woo me a little?” Steve says, nudging Eddie’s thigh with his own.
18442 Dickinson — this is Dispatch
Steve winks at Eddie as he leans closer to the speaker. “Hello Dispatch. What’s the good word?”
Emergency response advises they are en route.
Estimated arrival time is 90 minutes.
“WHAT?” Eddie nearly screeches, his face draining of color.
Steve glances in Eddie’s direction, his expression sympathetic. “Uh, can you advise if it’s maintenance or emergency services en route?”
Maintenance is en route. Once they
assess the situation further assistance
may be needed and they will proceed accordingly.
“What the hell does that even mean?” Eddie asks, his voice raised in near-panic.
“It means that once they arrive and figure out what caused the stoppage they might be able to get us out without calling in anyone else. It’s pretty standard in these situations.”
That’s correct, Sir. I’ll advise further if the timeline changes.
Disconnecting now.
“What the hell, Steve? NINETY minutes before they even get here? How is that okay with you?”
“With me? What do you want me to do, demand to speak with the manager?”
“Fuck. No, I guess not. But how can it possibly take 90 minutes?”
“Well, this might come as a surprise to you, but there probably isn’t a crew of elevator repair people just on standby waiting around the corner on the off chance that this specific elevator breaks down. It’s almost seven pm. That means people have to be called in. And then equipment needs to be coordinated. It’s a whole thing. Surely you must realize that, right?”
“Don’t patronize me. Asshole.”
“I’m not! Jeez — you are so tense! I mean, I don’t know how you are under normal circumstances or anything, but, fuck, man. Just lighten up a little, yeah? You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack. And then me. Getting yourself all worked up isn’t gonna change a single thing.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Forget it,” Eddie says, suddenly deflated. Because the truth is, Steve is right. He’s letting his bad mood win, and it’s not Steve’s fault they’re in this situation. And it’s certainly not the fault of the woman dispatching the repair crew, either.
“Looks like we have some time to kill. So why don’t you tell me more about this drink you’re definitely gonna owe me when this is all over. Where are you taking me?”
“Oh, you’re holding me to that, hm?”
“Hey man, you’re the one who brought it up. So tell me how you’re planning to woo me. I should tell you, I’m a sucker for musicians. So if you want to get a head start, you could play me something on that guitar.”
Steve is fun to talk to, as it turns out. And even though Eddie most definitely did NOT feel like performing an impromptu concert in between who the fuck knows which floors of The Dick, playing actually does work to take his mind off the situation.
Between songs, they talk about their jobs and friends and lives outside the doors of this godforsaken elevator car. Steve is an architect at some big fuck-off firm downtown, and he’s “painfully single” and “extremely gay,” just like Eddie.
They both have chaotic female best friends who they would quite literally jump in front of a moving train for, and they both have a newfound disdain for elevators.
“How much longer do we have?” Eddie asks as he fishes a pack of gum from his bag and shoves a piece into his mouth before offering the pack to Steve.
“Thanks, man,” Steve says as he accepts a piece, carefully unwrapping it before checking his watch. “Looks like we’ve got a little under ten minutes left before we should start hearing some action out there.”
“Wow — it doesn’t seem like an hour and a half has passed.”
“You’re welcome,” Steve says with a grin.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Eddie … you were on the verge of a spiral. I suspected that playing your guitar for a bit might help quiet that brain of yours, and would you look at that? I was right.”
“Dick.”
“Guilty as charged. But I make no apologies,” Steve says, winking as he rests his head against the wall. “I should get up and move around. Feels like my ass is about to fall asleep.”
“Shit, mine fell asleep about three songs in,” Eddie says with a grin. “I don’t know if I could get up now if I wanted to.”
“You really do seem to be better now, for what it’s worth. You wanna talk about what had you so twisted up before?”
“Hell if I know. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’ve proven to be one hell of a sounding board and all, but I honestly don’t know. Just in a mood, I guess. And then one small inconvenience after another … I guess it just built up. Maybe I’m pent up or something. I swear, I am usually a fucking delight. You did not meet me for the first time on my best day. Sorry for that.”
“Well. You can make it up to me when we get out of here. Because I do fully intend to hold you to that drink offer,” Steve says softly as he takes Eddie’s hand in his own, interlocking their fingers. “And for what it’s worth, I’ve clearly been charmed despite your very abrasive demeanor,” he says with a wink.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he breathes as he feels the press of Steve’s lips against the back of his hand.
“Well then get over here,” Steve whispers with a grin as he leans in and softly brushes his lips against Eddie’s for the first time. It’s a chaste kiss, but neither man can withhold a groan as Steve runs his tongue gently along the seam of Eddie’s lips to coax them apart. Eddie whines as he welcomes Steve into his mouth, the gentle glide and slip of their tongues making Eddie whimper into the kiss.
Steve places his hand on Eddie’s jaw and guides his head into a better position, aligning their lips more perfectly before he deepens the kiss, effectively taking Eddie’s breath away. It’s unlike any first kiss of his life, and Eddie is left reeling by the time they both come up for air.
“Oh my god,” Eddie gasps as he pulls back to look Steve in the eye, “you’re a really good kisser.”
“Thanks, baby,” Steve says with a smile as he surges forward for another kiss, this one more intense and deeper than the first. Eddie feels as if he’s being devoured, his mind beginning to feel a bit fuzzy around the edges.
18442 Dickinson — this is Dispatch
“Fuuuck,” Eddie groans as they separate to answer the emergency operator.
“Go ahead, Dispatch,” Steve answers, his eyes twinkling as he rises to his feet and extends his hand to help Eddie up from the floor.
Emergency services and maintenance are on site.
Maintenance advises that they’ll have the issue fixed
momentarily. You should be on solid ground again very soon.
“Thank you so much — appreciate it,” Steve says as he turns to wink at Eddie over his shoulder.
Happy to help, Sir.
Have a good evening.
Disconnecting now.
“Well,” Steve says as he helps Eddie pack up his guitar, “as much as I would have loved to continue all that, I can’t lie — I’ll be very happy to get out of this box.”
“Yeah, me too,” Eddie says with a shy smile. “Though it’s probably not a bad thing that we were interrupted. Pent up, remember?” He says, gesturing to his very obviously hard cock. “Expecting the elevator repair people to clean up a puddle of jizz would probably be a bridge too far.”
Steve cackles, his head thrown back in delight. “Really? Wow. That is insanely hot, and incredibly flattering. And also — same,” Steve says as he points at his own very visibly hard cock.
“To be continued, yeah?” Eddie says with a wink as he leans in for a chaste kiss.
“I’m holding you to that, baby.”
They’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the elevator doors, the light from the hallway pouring in through the opening above them as the elevator repair tech extends a small step stool inside the elevator car so they can climb up and out through the now-open doorway.
“What floor are we on?” Eddie asks as he takes in his surroundings and stretches his legs.
“Twenty fifth floor, Sir,” the tech answers as he helps Steve out of the disabled car.
“Wow. We were closer to the ground than I thought,” he says with a smirk.
“I know, right? I thought we were way higher than that. Come on, let’s take the stairs and get the hell out of here,” Steve says, extending his hand. “And someone owes me a drink, if I recall.”
They make their way out into the evening air, stopping once outside to exchange phone numbers. They decide to pop into the bar across the street from the building for a much-needed drink to cap off the events of the day, Eddie reveling in his much-improved mood.
“You know,” Steve says as they settle into a booth with their drinks, “this has been a hell of a first date. But I’d really love to cook for you sometime. What do you say? Dinner at my place on Saturday?”
“No offense, Stevie, but the chances of me riding that death trap up to the 45th floor for some linguine are pretty much non-existent. I actually think I’m gonna have to drop the Sinclair kids or have them come to mine for lessons, at least for a while. So let’s do my place or go out instead. I have a nice little ranch house outside of town. No elevators. No stairs. Solid ground only,” Eddie says with a wink.
“Oh, I don’t live there. I was just visiting my parents. My house does have a second story, but no elevators,” he says with a wink. “And the kitchen is on the ground floor.”
“And the bedroom?” Eddie asks, blushing as he sips his drink.
“Upstairs. Is that a deal breaker?”
“I think I can make a flight of stairs work.”
“Excellent. It’s a date.”