Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So give in, I know the dawn is the bitter end
So I put my mask on and I start to pretend
To be someone I ain't never gonna be again

Every minute from the morning till the sun goes down
I know that inside of me, it's a fucking ghost town
And anyone with half a heart wouldn't let me drown
[Our Mirage – Nightfall]

His mind was buzzing with pre show adrenaline. The light was low in the little dressing room that smelled of old smoke and spilled booze.
Don't fuck up. Don't fuck up. Don't fuck up.
Like a mantra he was mumbling it into the dirty mirror he was sitting in front. His leg was stretched out, still resting on a stool. Trying to keep off his body weight for as long as possible. Hopefully he wouldn't feel too much pain and could perform relatively limp free tonight.

He hated his body for working against him.
Well. He hated his body. Period.
While his band mates were laying sprawled out on the couch arrangement, chatting and laughing, he was gearing up.
It's what he called it.
Sounded more badass than 'Hey, lemme just put on some makeup so I can hide from the world and no one sees my face.'
He scoffed at his own ridiculousness. As soon as he was finished he put down the black charcoal liner and double checked the generous amount of black around his eyes. Then he grabbed his mask, the weathered surface feeling almost as familiar as his own face. He like this one a lot better too.
With a sigh he fastened the sturdy leather straps of his mask behind his head. It looked like some kind of skull demon fusion covering his forehead, both eyes and the majority of the left side of his face.
His lips curled in into a crooked smile when he checked himself one last time. Much better. He looked wicked.
“You got it, Munson” he told his mirror image and slapped his thigh before he raised from his chair and grabbed his guitar that had been resting in it's open case, sitting on a stack of old stage equipment.

“Alrighty boys! Bring it in! Time for the Hideout to meet Corroded Coffin.” he yelled. Raised fists and motivated screaming were his answer.
“Let's fucking do this!”

Showtime, baby.

Steve had a problem with saying no to his best friend.
Maybe he was weak. Or maybe he just loved her so much he wanted her to be as happy as possible.
Same thing in the end because whatever Robin Buckley wanted she gets.
He'd bitch about it – one hundred percent – but in the end he would tag along to wherever she'd drag him anyway.

She was truly his soulmate. Platonically of course. In all Caps. Since she was a lesbian and he had too little boobies and too much chest hair. Her words, not his.

Which was how he found himself in some dingy small town dive bar called The Hideout somewhere on the outskirts between a fields and an abandoned steelworks at a Friday night. Definitely not his idea.
He really hoped his car was going to still be there when they made it back to the parking lot later.

The floor felt sticky beneath his new to him black cowboy boots he'd found in a thrift shop with Robin last week. A staple piece very different from his usual fashion choices but he loved them already. They felt very 70s to him.
Shuffling further into the bar his eyes scanned around. The walls probably hadn't seen fresh paint in the last 40 years, littered with old posters of past events and pictures of the bands that had played here. The light was blinding, the music loud and heavy, strong guitars and drums coming from the loudspeakers, bass so strong the floor was practically vibrating with it.

Steve absently tugged on the bottom if his shirt. He wasn't wearing his clothes. He was wearing Robin's.

Well. Her shirt and jewelry anyway. He wore the simple black v-neck tee with the sleeves rolled, the bottom had been cropped by Robin so it didn't even reach the waistband of his jeans. His chest hair was poking out at the top, a chunky silver necklace with a large O ring sat snugly around his neck. He had picked one of his dark gray bootcut Levis to go with his shoes. The studded leather belt was also curtsy of his best friend and roommate.

His usually attire was a little less Rock 'n' Roll , blue jeans and colorful thrifted vintage shirts or more frequently a cozy hoodie and shorts, depending on the mood but apparently 'you can't go to a metal gig looking like a jock, Steve'.
Okay sure.
And looking at the other people lingering at the bar or the small crowd growing in front of the stage at the end of the room he had to admit that Rob was probably right. He would've stood out like a sore thumb in his usual get up. His wardrobe didn't feature a whole lot of black. Maybe he should add some though because he was really starting to feel his outfit.

“Oi, Birdy. Wanna grab a drink before you drag me to certain death?” he asked looking at his friend. She wore fishnets under short black dungarees paired with an acid died crop top and lots of leather bracelets and a thin choker. Her platform Doc Martens gave her a few extra inched tonight. Clever girl.

She looked like she actually belonged here. Steve felt more like an impostor. As if everyone knew he was faking it. Always the outsider.
Robin grinned at him like this was their usual weekend activity though and hooked her arm under his, stirring him through the masses aiming for the bar, swaying gently left and right.
Hansel and Gretel walk into a dive bar -

“I'll have a vodka Red Bull, dingus. Since your the designated driver tonight!” She yelled close to his ear, excitement in her voice. It had taken her several attempts for him to agree to this concert. Heavy Metal was not his usual music, neither were crowded small town scene bars. But his therapy book had said that he should try getting out of his comfort zone ore often. Socialize more. Risk meeting new people.
He met plenty of people at work every day. People ordered their daily dose of caffeine at his coffee shop. But apparently that was different because he was high functioning a work but stopped working like a regular person as soon as he wasn't on the job. Fair enough.
He needed positive evenings and he was determined to make them happen.

He nodded and ordered her drink and a bottle of alcohol free beer for himself, leaning over the bar top and pulling out a couple notes from his wallet. The gruff looking heavy guy behind the bar raised an eyebrow at his order, silently judging him for not drinking a proper beer.
Sue me, he though. He didn't drink when he needed to drive. Easy rule.
With a simple thankful nod he accepted his change, tapped the counter with a knuckle and handed Robin her drink. “Alrighty. I won't feel more ready than this, Rob. Let's fucking go before I change my mind and bolt.”

They pushed their bodies through the crowd coming to stand to the left of the stage, pretty close to where shit was about to go down in a bit.
10 Minutes to be exact, Steve realized looking at the vintage Casio on his wrist.
“How do you know this band again, Rob?” he asked taking a calming sip of his ice cold beer. He felt the anxiety creeping in, hovering at the back of his head but tried his best to stay in the present, focusing on his friend.
“Oh Dustin mentioned them to me a few month ago. I think he goes to the same university their – drummer goes to? He showed me their Instagram and it had a few videos from previous shows. They seemed cool. And since you seem to love the 70s and 80s for some reason it just felt very fitting to drag you to this. They do a few covers of very classic old school metal and rock songs but their own stuff really has that retro feel to it as well. Maybe you'll be a fan by he end of the night, dingus. You never know. Also – “ she made a dramatic pause. “We loooove a mysterious lead singer we can gossip about after”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in confusion. His hands felt wet from the condensation of his bottle and he quickly wiped his hands on his jeans.
Robin was bouncing happily beside him, oblivious to his discomfort.

“Oh, he wears a disguise like – you can't really see his face. But I feel like people are really into the whole doomy gloomy metal Phantom Of The Opera thing. They are not that big yet but he has about twenty thousand followers in his own Instagram. Horny girls in the comments included. It was kind of crazy to be honest when I checked it a while ago. But I guess if they ever get super famous at least he'll have his privacy. It's actually kind of clever now that I think of it.”

And thing is, Steve could relate to this in a way. Sometimes he wished he could put on a different face and just be somebody else for the day. Not the Harrington loser. Disappointment to his family's legacy. The son who took the inheritance money from his dead parents and instead of going to university and doing what his father always wanted him to do - take care of the real estate firm - he'd bought a small little cafe in Indianapolis. Moved into a shared apartment with Robin above the cute shop. Not much luxury, not the bragging kid his parents had always needed anyway.
The had only cared about reputations and knowing the right people. Right people meaning people who only made you more money.
He remembered the time when he'd just finished High School and his dad slapped him right across the face when he didn't get into the Colleges he'd had applied to right away. His eye had been bruised for a week. And it hadn't changed a thing. At the end of the day the letters were still going to be rejections.
Nowadays he technically was a business owner after all but he knew his father would've laughed right in his face, called him a useless pussy and demanded he got an actual job. Something with meaning. Somethings with future. Something manly. Not a barista and a store owner.

Steve felt somewhat glad sometimes that he would never have to listen to the degrading mean voice of his father again, telling him how useless he was and how they should've never had him in the first place. He'd never feel the hot pain of an ill intended palm against his cheek again, beating him into submission. If feeling relief at that made him a bad person, he didn't care.

It was bad enough that the voice of his father was permanently stuck to the inside of his brain, like an echo creeping right back in whenever he started to feel too happy. Dragging him right back under with certainty. Even three years after his parents weren't around anymore to do so themselves.

“Hey, dingus” Robin nudged him in the side with her shoulder. She smiled at him knowingly. “Wherever you just went in your head, rather stay here with me. You're the best friend I could've ever wished for. And you deserve to enjoy nice things.”

He tugged he into his side, kissing her hair. Couldn't help himself. Because she always knew the right thing to say. He wouldn't know what to do without her.

“I love you, Robie” he murmured against her temple and took a deep breath.

“I love you, too Steve. Thank you for being here with me. I know crowds can be a bit much on bad days. So I really really appreciate this.”

Just in time before he could spiral some more, his whole attention was pulled to the stage, where the light turned into an eerie red and fog started crawling onto the floor, wrapping around the equipment and then lifting into the crowd.
People started cheering loudly.

Robbing clapped her hands, rocking on her heels in joyful anticipation. A small squeal escaped her lips as four dark figures poured onto the small stage, plugging in their instruments and getting into position.

The were all dressed in different states of distressed denim with band shirts on. All of them wore some kind of ripped hooded vest over their outfits. The stage light was casting deep shadows on their faces. It was hard to make out much detail but even with the lights low he was automatically drawn to the man that had his guitar slung low over his shoulder and adjusted the mic stand with long fingers that were painted black. Of course.

He looked like some kind of movie villain character, it was kind of intriguing. His jeans were ripped, holes reaching inappropriately high on his thighs. He wore the chunkiest boots he had ever seen, sole thick and heavy and making him seem taller, almost towering over the mic.
Steve thought they'd be roughly the same height if not for the boots.
He was wearing rings on almost every finger of his hands, thick silver pieces glinting in the light matching the silver of the chain on his pants, and the long spiky earring that dangled from one ear. He wore a mesh long sleeved shirt, layered with something patch worky made of gray and black fabric bits. Thin bands of leather straps wrapped around his torso in a messy but deliberate way. Shiny silver hardware on the buckles. It matched his thin leather choker and the wide leather wristband he had on one hand. Steve wasn't entirely sure but is seemed like there was dark ink showing through the mesh.
He also wore the same hooded vest as the rest of the band, face hidden in the shadows but dark messy curls were pooling out from under it reaching past his shoulder.
With the most laid back attitude he took the cable for his guitar between his teeth while he adjusted a few things. Someone wolf whistled which made the man shake his head in amusement.
Shortly after he spit the cable into his hand, pulled it from behind through his guitar strap and plugged it into the corpus.

“Welcome folks and freaks” he suddenly spoke, his voice deep and sardonic like he was above it all. Steve didn't have to see the he smirk to know it was there. He could hear it. The man gestured with his arms wide open, pulling the crows full attention to him and his dramatic antics.

“We are Corroded Coffin, my name's Eddie. And it'll be my pleasure to wreck. Every. Single. One of you on this fuckin' fine Friday night ” he emphasized pointing at different heads in the crowd.

Then the lights grew brighter, the first notes of music starting as he tilted his head back in a menacing cackle.
It was then that Steve saw what Robin had meant. His singer's hood had fallen back, revealing an impressive head full of dark brown curls, wildly hanging into his face. He was indeed wearing some kind of mask. It seemed to be strapped to his face, straps disappearing under the mountain of hair.
Steve would go as far to say he even looked a bit creepy, some demonic face covering his own.
The only thing Steve could really see were a pair of dark large eyes and a mouth curled in to a grin, lips full and ready to get this show going.
And then he plucked a pick from the mic stand and started playing, skillful fingers running over the fret board of his guitar while he sang.

When you feel safe
When you feel warm
That's when I rise
That's when I crawl

Gliding on mist
Hardly a sound
Bringing the kiss
Evil's abound

In the dead of night
Love bites, love bites
In the dead of night
Love bites

[Judas Priest -Love Bites]

The concert went by in a blur. He was mesmerized by the talented mysterious lead singer who's name apparently was Eddie.
Like an unabashed force he was performing on stage. Singing his heart out to a mix of old legendary songs of Dio and Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath and their own creations. But the rest of the band was just as talented. The drummer Robin hat mentioned, was giving everything, making the crowd go wild.

Had Steve not been a big of metal up to this point he'd eventually found himself nodding and headbanging along, raising pinky and pointer finger in the air, clapping after every song and even snapping a few short videos with his phone.
Corroded Coffin were mad talented. And the crowd knew and celebrated them for it.

Once they got to the end of their set, the singer walked over to the edge of the stage to grab a bar stool and carry it back to the center.
Steve noticed he had a slight limp in his walk, pulling his left leg after himself like it wouldn't bend properly.
Then Eddie pulled an acoustic guitar from a stand Steve hadn't noticed before and sat down, adjusting the instrument on his lap.

“Okay so since my old bones hurt, I wanna sit down for a bit and play you this nice little metal ballad. Again, by one of my favorite artists, Judas Priest.” His voice was low and soft, wrapping the room in it. The crowd was waiting in anticipation.
“This is 'Angel'” he whispered and fingers slid over the strings, leaving Steve speechless.

Angel, put sad wings around me now
Protect me from this world of sin so that we can rise again
Oh, Angel, we can find our way somehow
Escaping from the world we're in to a place where we began
And I know we'll find a better place and piece of mind
Just tell me that it's all you want, for you and me
Angel, won't you set me free?

It was then, when that last sentence left Eddie's mouth that Steve swore their eyes met for a split second. But it was probably impossible to see much of the crowd from up there, the stage light too bright.
Still, he felt pinned to the spot and couldn't look away. The other guitarist joined with his electric and the song picked up and turned a little harsher, a little less soft. But it was still a sad song and Steve felt every emotion right into his bones.
When the song was over Steve stuck two fingers between his lips and gave the loudest whistle he could manage, earning him a grin from the vocalist because it was that loud.

They played another song of their own, something fast paced and brutal. It was the last song but people kept yelling for more afterwards so the band agreed for one more.

When the last cords of the encore where done, the band came to the front and instead of bowing or waving they all dropped a little curtsy while grabbing their invisible garments. All of them were laughing, high on the show they had just rocked.

“They're all a bunch of weirdos” Robin yelled and slapped his shoulder. “I fucking love it!”
Steve couldn't help but nod in agreement.
“Same, they were awesome. I never thought I'd enjoy metal music this much. But hearing it live and seeing the energy was kind of impressive.” He combed a hand through his sweaty hair. The room felt like a sauna by now, the heat of the people filling the room with nowhere to go.

Steve needed a cold drink, fresh air and a cigarette. In this order.

“Hey Birdy, how about another drink and a break to calm down before I get us home?” he asked his friend and was met with an agreeing nod.
“Sounds perfect, I'll have a beer” she said and they both made their way over to the bar, pushing through bodies, damp with sweat.
By the time they got there Steve felt way too aware of just how many people were actually around him, the anxiety creeping back in and daring to swallow him. He needed a break. Like five minutes ago.
As soon as Steve had grabbed their drinks, pushing the bottle into Robin's hands he scanned the room. “I'll go take a leak and take a quick smoke break okay? I'll find you back here in like.. 15?” he asked, an unspoken apology in his voice because he really didn't want to leave Robin alone but he needed a break.
Robin squeezed his arm in reassurance. “That's alright. I'm not going anywhere, dingus.” she said and motioned for him to go ahead.

Steve practically ran for the restrooms finding them pretty empty. When he was done he grabbed his bottle from a wall mounted condom vending machine he had said it on top of and noticed a door at the end of the hall. With his chest still tight and his breath too short he headed straight to it and pushed it open – just to find himself behind the bar in the dark except for streetlight a little further away casting a faint orange glow. There were dumpsters to his left and a low stone wall enclosing the back area. He probably wasn't supposed to be here but he couldn't care less at this point.

Instead he lifted his head towards the night sky. It was clear and full of stars. The bar was so far out there wasn't much light pollution. Not like back home.
It felt calming to watch, the cool night breeze calming his buzzing brain and clenching heart. The quiet felt incredible.

The sound of the bar was nothing but a quiet murmur pushing through the door. Like a radio playing on the lowest volume. Steve finally let himself take a deep breath, filling his lungs. Then another. And another.
Slowly calming down.

Then he heard the flick of a lighter, the spark not catching, because it got flicked again and again followed by a quiet “Fucking piece of shit” when it wouldn't light up.
Steve head snapped down, eyes narrowing in the low light until he could make out a figure sitting in the far end of the wall, legs danging in the air. Feet covered with heavy chunky boots.
He knew why the voice had immediately sounded familiar.
Apparently he hadn't been the only one to flee from the noise of the bar to get a quiet moment.
Steve felt slightly nervous all of a sudden and tried swallowing it down with the large gulp of beer.

Then he produced his lighter and a pack of smokes from the back pocket of his jeans.
Okay. Cue the awkward social interaction.

Robin always made fun of him because as practiced and confident as he was with his customers he was a total disaster at having actual conversations sometimes. Especially with strangers.
But he was in a town where no one knew him so he had nothing to lose.

“Hey man, need a light?” he offered with a friendly tone waving the lighter around like it was a freaking treat or something. He felt like an idiot already.

“Shit. Fuck. Holy. Fucking. Fuck!” the man cursed with a high shriek , nearly falling backwards over the wall with the way his whole body had flinched as Steve had spoken. The broken lighter dropped from ringed hands that grabbed the stone and landed on the ground with a plastic clatter, rolling off into the dark shadows.
Apparently both of them had thought they were alone at first and he hadn't heard Steve coming through the door. And now he had scared the shit out of his involuntary company.

“S..sorry, man. Didn't mean to startle you. Just needed air and a cigarette and apparently so did you. So uhm.. light? I have it?” he offered with an apologetic shrug, inching closer the wall the man still occupied.

Dark brown eyes met Steve's in the orange glow of the streetlight, the rest of the face they belonged to still hidden. An oversized black hoodie was hanging off strong shoulders instead of the mesh and leather from the show, dark curls pulled into a messy bun at the top of his head.

“I don't think you're supposed to be back here. I nearly had a heart attack, what the fuck” he supplied tight lipped tilting his head to one side. The gesture of a playful dork was a very stark contrast to the tone of his voice and everything the man embodied with his outfit.
Steve couldn't help but smile.

“Well, I won't snitch if you don't “ he chuckled. “My best friend would be so pissed if I just left her at the bar forever because I got thrown out. She needs her taxi driver. Undamaged preferably.”

Judging eyes narrowed on the beer bottle in his hand.
“You drinking and then driving, big boy?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.
Steve felt mildly irritated at that.
He also felt like he needed to clarify. He wasn't like that.
“Nah, I would never. It's without alcohol.” Then he quickly finished the rest of the bottle and placed it into some stacked garbage boxes that were sitting around.

He only got an approving nod in return, eyes still all over him like he was in an interrogation.
There was a tangible tension hanging in the air Steve really wanted gone.
“So. Want a light or not?” he asked again, like a piece offering.

“Sure. Thanks.”

And then his idiot former jock brain told him it was a great idea to just throw it the remaining distance between them.
It landed with a metallic clank on the ground. The musician hadn't even raised his hands to try and catch it.

“Aww man, sorry bout that. Habit I guess..” Steve apologized looking sheepish. Idiot Idiot Idiot. He was such an idiot.

His company actually looked frustrated.
“Making the cripple work for it, huh” he mumbled under his breath, smacking his lips in displeasure.
It had been barely audible but Steve still heard. Confusion lingered in his brain for a moment, then he thought back to the concert and the bar stool on stage and the slight limp the man carried in his walk.

He actually felt stupid now. Taking three long steps he chased the lighter on the ground and quickly picked it up, the same moment the metal head decided to hop off the wall and reach for it as well.
Their heads collided with a little too much force, as both bent over to reach for it, the two of them hissing in pain.

“Fuck jeez, I am already damaged enough man. Nat 20 right to the head.” the singer cursed and rubbed his head leaning back against the wall for support.
“Crit hit.” he winched. “Eddie The Banished takes his last breath before his skull cracks open. The villagers mourns three days and three nights...” he gasped dramatically and clasped a hand to his chest.

Steve couldn't help but burst out in laughter. “Drama Queen much?” he laughed and offered the lighter again. Strong warm fingers touched his own as the lighter finally found it's destination.

“Didn't expect theater kid level nerd talk. You sound like the kids of used to babysit, dude” Steve said.
That was such a strange thing to say, he realized.

“That is such a strange thing to say, violent stranger.” the singer snickered, actually sounding amused now.
Guess they were both a little awkward.

Steve shook out his limps and stuck out his hand as a peaceful offer.
“You're right. Just forget I said anything. I feel like we totally got off on the wrong foot here. Lemme just – Let's... I'm Steve. Totally non violent.”

“Well nice to meet you non violent Steve. I'm Eddie. Occasionally violent. Maybe. If people let me. ”
A calloused hand shook Steve's, the touch lingering for a moment before the parted and Eddie plucked a joint from the inside of his hoodie pocket. He was still grinning from behind his disguise. Steve could see the little wrinkles around his eyes as his cheeks raised with it.

He flicked the lighter and the tip of his joint lit up, the glow providing a tiny bit of light.
Eddie inhaled like a man starved, full lips wrapping around the filter. He then tilted his head back blowing a heavy cloud of smoke into the air. The smell of potent weed lingering between them. It smelled way stronger than what Steve smoked at home sometimes.

“So uhm - Keep the lighter, I guess. Yours seems to be fucked anyway. I got another one in the car.” Steve offered with a small smile, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He was rocking on his heels, trying to come up with something more intelligent to say.

“You – were really great by the way. I really loved the song choices. That Judas Priest Ballad was insanely good. You're like very talented.” he finally complimented with a shy smile.

Eddie's eyes went wide, looking sightly unbelieving. He pulled a stray lock in front of his face, looking equally timid which felt ridiculous since the man was a musician, clearly used to attention and people complimenting him.

“Way to make a boy feel special, Stevie. Thank you.” Eddie bit his lower lip, gaze wandering over Steve. He tucked the lighter inside his pocket, taking another drag.
“I will treasure this lighter like the baby I'll never have. I'd offer to some weed but - ”

“Yeah, nah. I mean. Not that I wouldn't want to but like I said, I am driving.”
Steve felt himself flush at the nickname. It felt kind of flirty. Maybe that was just how Eddie was though. Or how he was with his fans. Not that he was one.

“Aren't you such a good boy, huh?” Eddie mused, his voice heavy with a teasing lilt.

“I can be.” Steve said before he could think.
Why did he say that? That sounded awfully suggestive. He wanted to take it back immediately.
But Eddie was already cackling, head thrown back showing his long neck.

Steve couldn't make it out in the low light but it looked like there were faint marks dragging down the side of it, reddish branches that traveled down from under his mask and disappeared in the collar of his hoodie.

“I didn't mean it like that. Whatever man. I don't know why I said that.” He pulled his shoulder up high, shrinking into himself. “I need to get back to my friend anyway soooo I won't bother you any longer. Enjoy your greens“

“Well. It was a welcome bother, non violent Steve. Get home safely and thanks for supporting the band and all.” Eddie offered with his head tilted again, eyes looking straight into his, lingering.
They were such a rich brown, like molten chocolate.
Steve was the first one to break the contact, feeling way too warm in the cold night air. He needed to go. Like, now.

“Likewise, 's pleasant to split your skull open, occasionally violent Eddie. Nice meeting you.” Steve offered a two finger mock salute and turned around to get back into the bar, not looking back even though he could've sworn he heard Eddie laugh.

When the door closed and the inside noise hit him full force he noticed three things.
First, he hadn't even smoked his own cigarette, pack still in his hand.

Secondly, he hadn't felt any form of anxiety as soon as he'd met Eddie. It was like the overload of the people and the knot in his chest had just dissolved, replaced with something like excitement and curiosity for this very odd mysterious man.
He wondered if he'd ever see him again. Or, if he'd ever get to know what he actually looked like.
Steve had always been a person to enjoy gossip or analyze people and the fact that Eddie remained this anonymous person somehow bothered him.

And third, he needed to find Robin. Checking his phone he saw that he had 4 missed calls and two text messages.

Robin[22:45]: ?? Earth to Dingus. Over.??

Robin[23:02]: ??? Did u shit ur pants or did someone kidnap you? Where r u?

Steve pushed past the people in front of the restroom and headed back to the bar where he was glad to see Robin, looking around the room, then glancing at her phone and back up.

“What the fuck, dingus!” She yelled when she finally saw him approaching. “Where the hell were you?!”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

“So – uhm , I just met Eddie behind the bar” he said and Robin's features lost their remaining composure, eyes turning as wide as dinner plates.

“You did what?!” she screeched. “Tell me everything!”

“Fine, I will. But let's get to the car first. I've had enough people for today” he agreed and started tugging her along toward the exit to the parking lot longing for the familiar quiet of his BMW.

Chapter Text

I wear black on the outside
'Cause black is how I feel on the inside

And if I seem a little strange
Well, that's because I am
If I seem a little strange
Well, that's because I am

But I know that you would like me
If only you could see me
If only you could meet me

[Unlovable – The Smiths]

The bed groaned under his weight, as his tired body dropped gracelessly onto the mattress and dark green pillows. His body felt like a brick, gravity dialed up in a way that every limp felt glued the soft black sheets and unable to get back up even he'd try.
His mind though, was still buzzing from the tonight's gig. Muscles tense but mind running on overdrive.
Eddie knew he'd feel sore tomorrow. But it was worth it.
The crowd had been amazing, loud and carefree. Making them feel high on applause and the stale smell of beer. Corroded Coffin would definitely have to come back to The Hideout at some point.

Reaching for his nightstand with a lazy arm he plucked his phone from it and a scrunchie to tie his still damp curls into a messy bun on top of his head. He rolled over onto his stomach with a sigh and unlocked his phone screen.
He had a message from Gareth, their drummer.

Gareth [00:32]: That was insane tonight! Holy shit, man! Loved every second!

He replied with a thumbs up an promised himself to write something more intelligible tomorrow after some sleep and a giant cup of coffee.
Eddie's mind inevitably drifted to after the concert, the awkward dude who gave him a lighter behind the dumpsters at the bar. Low light was always forgiving but even with the bad visibility he had noticed the artfully tousled hair, the tanned skin, straight nose and the moles splattered over the man's skin like a Jackson Pollock drip painting. And those paintings were fucking expensive. The man was gorgeous. Unfairly so. So much it was almost painful. Painful in a way it made him feel insecure about his own very much not gorgeous self. Not anymore anyway. He was like the damaged carton of candy no one ever bought and just got pushed to the back where it sat past it's expiration date. He was long past that date.
Dropping one arm from his bed he dug blindly for the pants he'd been wearing.
“AH – HA!” he yelled way too loud for someone who was alone at home in the middle of the night as he found what he was looking for. He pulled the lighter from the back pocket of this jeans and tossed the moss green plastic item in the air, catching it and flipping it over to examine it.

“Steve's Nook – Café - Games - Records” it read in beige classic lettering. The backside had an address here in Indianapolis, the shop's telephone number and the Instagram @StevesnookINDI .
Huh – interesting.
Non violent Steve was a Café owner? And he was from Indi as well?
He pulled out his phone, too curious for his own good and typed in the handle, ignoring his own 100 unread notification from people tagging him in video of their gig and mentioning him and the band in story posts and whatnot. He would have to sort through that tomorrow.

The profile that popped up on the search bar featured several interior shots, dark green walls, big beige pots of plants, artfully decorated food and drinks. Dark wooden nooks to sit in, board games stacked into a messy chaos inside a huge shelf. Another corner of the shop apparently held a quite large selection of records, sorted by genre. The walls behind littered with old band and tour posters.
There were cupcakes and cinnamon rolls in some shots that looked divine. He wanted 20.
The Café looked like heaven. Like a place Eddie could spend hours at and never get bored. Homey and warm and personal.
He was impressed.
The bio had their opening hours and address. At the bottom it read “Owned by @SteveTheHair”
His finger clicked faster than his brain had even formed the thought to do so.
The profile was private,posts hidden behind the Follow button.
Steve's bio read

Steve – 26
Plant dad 🌿
Always the goddamn babysitter

Eddie snorted out a laugh, his phone threatening to drop from his tired hands as he did. He shifted his grip and it was when he looked at the screen again that his eyes grew comically large.
He had just accidentally sent a follow request.
Like a creepy stalker.
Fucking splendid.

Robin nearly fell into Steve's back as both of them made their way up the narrow stairs to their shared apartment. She was uncoordinated sober but even more so when she was tipsy. And it didn't take much since she was a real light weight.
Inexpensive fun she called it. Rather get drunk fast after two drinks than pay a fortune for ten. She kind of had a point.
“Whoopsies” she snorted and grabbed the hand rail while Steve unlocked the door and they stumbled into their home.
Yellow light engulfed them both as Steve switched on the ceiling light and dropped his keys into a bowl on an old wooden side board they had rescued from a yard sale, sanded it down in Dustin's garage, oiled it and brought it home where it now sat below a gold framed mirror and a Polaroid wall around it featuring all of their friends in the most ridiculous states. One picture showed Robin lying on their wooden living room floor, eyes closed and smiling while buried under confetti at her birthday last year. Another one had Dustin and Lucas working on some weird electronic contraption while wearing safety goggles and holding a welding tool.
Steve just loved collection all these memories throughout the years. Looking back sometimes and remembering little details he had forgotten till then. His Polaroid camera was always charged and loaded sitting next to their keys. The only reason he hadn't taken it with him tonight was that the films weren't that light sensitive and indoor shots in dark locations usually just came out black.
But now – he curtly grabbed the camera and lined both him and a giggly Robin up in their mirror, holding the camera above their head and clicking the shutter.
Sue him, he liked their outfits tonight and he wanted to immortalize that evening. He put the picture down to develop.
“Love you dingus!” Robin murmured as she peeled out of her boots and jacket. “But I am beat. I need to sleep real bad. Can you make your cheese omelet for breakfast tomorrow, pretty pleeeease?”

She pulled him into a lose side hug before trotting over to her room and disappeared without waiting for an answer, her door shutting with a quiet click.

“Sure, Birdy” he mumbled to himself and went over to the other side of their giant living room slash kitchen area that was tucked into a corner, high open counter with bar stools the only thing dividing the spaces. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge turned off the light before going to his bedroom. He flicked on his nightstand lamp and placed the bottle on the worn wooden surface.
He'd painted the wall where is bed was in a burnt rust kind if orangy color, matching the brown patterned oriental carpets on the floor.
Growing up in a very minimalistic almost sterile home as a kid had Steve really despise it as an adult. He needed warm tones, trinkets, patterns all over and pictures on the wall.
Robin was the same in that sense so their shared places was maybe what some might call overdecorated but undeniably cozy.

Steve hummed as he went over to his own little bathroom.
Robin used the bigger main bathroom and he used the slightly smaller one but it was attached to his bedroom instead which was a luxury he really gotten to appreciate.
After he quickly washed his face he stripped down to his briefs and padded over to his bed with bare feet, face planting with his phone in his hand. His body was tired but his mind wasn't yet so he folded himself against the headboard under his thick blanket and started browsing Instagram.

@Corroded- he started typing into the search bar and the first suggestion came up @CorrodedCoffinBand and he found himself scrolling the bands profile. It was mostly shots from past gigs or posts announcing their next concert dates. He found himself admiring the band once more, unmuting the sound of their photos and listening to their songs used as background tracks on low volume.
He was currently stuck on a picture from weeks ago, shot from the bottom, frame mostly full of Eddies crotch clad in leather pants, standing legs wide and playing his guitar, looking down straight into the camera with a wicked grin on his lips and sparkling eyes.
The comments were very vocal about their appreciation for the singer.

[What you see when you're on your knees for Eddie]

[I'd even let him keep the mask on in bed if he only looked at me like THAT!!!]

[This makes me feel things!]

[AMAZING show guys! Loved the set!]

[I'd do anything for this man!]

[I volunteer as a tribute!]

Well. Steve couldn't help but snicker at that because as ridiculous as these people were he couldn't help but somewhat agree. The man had just something about him that was quite intriguing. The way he was all wide stance and gestures, pulling in the audience. His obvious skills on the guitar and his deep raspy voice. His rough look that made you both timid and addicted at the same time. It felt like playing with fire. Takes one to know one.
Steve saw the appeal, he did. He had enough weird booktok reels forced into his timeline of all sorts of things to know people enjoyed the fantasy of an anonymous intimidating guy that had a dorky second layer and would never actually hurt them.
He could relate to the comments even though he would never post such under anyone's pictures. That would be crazy inappropriate.He sighed and raked a hand through his messy hair.

Steve had been single for a while now, his past girl- and boyfriends never really stuck around for long. Because he was either too needy, too dorky, too weird. He had – issues, okay? Blame his parents because if you try and convince a boy all his life he's useless and not enough he ends up believing it eventually. But then it was also just – the way he was? He wasn't going to change his whole character just because people didn't like it. He had done lots of that in early High School and it had turned him into a gigantic asshole for a while, a closeted bully.
But he was better these days, thanks to the best therapist in his life – Robin Buckley.
While he had come to peace with his own sexuality and ditched all his douchebag friends in the last years of High School, kept his head down and babysat the local kids most of his freetime he had met Robin at some shitty part time job and since then, they had been inseparable. She hadn't taken any bullshit and had looked right through his facade, saw him the way he actually was and it had been so nice to not only have this gang of teenagers that adored him but also someone his own age who just got him. He was dorky and awkward and maybe a bit dependent on the people he likes but he was very fine with it. And now he lived and worked together with his best friend and things were pretty perfect.

But still, he was missing someone in his life sometimes. Not just for sex but of course that was part of it too – he wasn't one for one night stands, sadly. He wished he was sometimes, hook up and be done, get a dopamine boost and move on but without some kind of personal connection he felt himself not really enjoying it wholeheartedly. So looking at some mysterious dude that he could project all his fantasies into, yeah – he got it. But he also missed the domestic stuff. Cuddling and cooking together, feeling needed and loved in a non platonic way. The banter, messing with someone, fooling around. Yeah, he missed flirting and feeling wanted.

And Eddie was sure something. First Steve thought he was rude, then when he had nearly fallen off the brick wall and made DnD references he thought he was somewhat dorky and in the end he was flushed at the pet names and suggestive undertone. It was an odd mix but Steve had always liked odd. Never boring. While he thought of himself as rather plain he had always looked for the complete opposite when it came to potential partners. Not that Eddie was that! God, no. He wasn't delusional.

It was just that he had liked the long ringed fingers, the banter and the messy dark curls. The smell of weed and the way Eddie had looked at him, not just in passing but actually looked.
Without actually knowing what the metal head looked like, Steve couldn't help but feel attracted to the man.
Steve was palming his stiffening dick through his underwear at the thought of their strange encounter earlier. Hell, he needed to get laid. Or date. Both probably.

A Follow request pulled him out of his horny stupor, as the little icon plopped up on the screen.
“What the actual fuck?” he whispered to himself as he looked at the notification.
That couldn't be right. The universe was messing with him.

@EddieTheBanished wants to follow you.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Okay. Steve quickly scanned over his profile, deleted one post of a sleeping him drooling over one of their throw pillows on the couch that Robin hat taken and accepted the follow request. Then he immediately went to Eddie's profile and couldn't help but let out a heated frustrated groan at the content.

Eddie
Guitarist/ Singer of @CorrodedCoffinBand
Keep your horny away from me! 🖕

And then he did the exact opposite of keeping his horny locked away and rested an eager hand between his legs again as he looked at video after video of Eddie playing songs and singing, frame always cutting off right at the neck, never showing his face. There were artsy photos of his hands on the fret board of his guitar. The silver of his rings glinting in the light, details to crisp you could see the faint scars all over his knuckles, calluses visible on his fingers.
There were videos in sweatpants and socked feet sitting cross legged on a dark blanket with a old mangled acoustic guitar in his lap. It was both hot and so damn cozy Steve wanted to jam his head into the wall.
One picture had him wrapping both hands around a cold coke bottle on a bar table, condensation running down the bottle neck and disappearing under his palm and it had Steve wondering how those hands would feel wrapped around his neck instead of a bottle's.
God, what was wrong with him?!

He maneuvered his hand out from under the blanket, a sudden wave of shame overcoming him.
What the hell was he doing, fapping to some band's singer he had talked to for three and a half sentences and knew nothing about, not even what he looked like!
He sighed, unsure of how to go about the fact that Eddie had actually looked him up on social media. How had he found him anyway?
Should he message him? Would that be too needy?
Fuck it. He clicked on the little + next to his profile icon and opened his front camera to make a story post. If Eddie wanted to interact he'd give him an easy start.

Steve took a selfie, with his head half hidden behind a fluffy pillow, and the caption “Feeling like a train wreck after going to a life show, I think I'm getting old.” and posted it.
He threw his phone next to him onto the mattress and pressed is head into the pillow.
What was he doing?! He wasn't a teenager anymore, for fucks sake.
And still, as soon as he felt the vibration of his phone go off he grabbed it like his life depended on it and saw someone had answered to his story – Eddie had answered to his story.

Awww, did I tire you out, Stevie?

Steve felt his dick perk up at the suggestive subtext. Eddie knew exactly what he was doing. It made his skin prickle with anticipation.

Guess you did. But I don't mind ;)

Lucky me! Also, I swear I am not a freaky stalker.

No?

Nah, you gave me your lighter, remember?
It has your cutesy little Café on it.

A shit, yeah. Just didn't think you'd bother looking me up.
I'm just some dude.

Guess you left an impression :P

Yeah? So did you tbh

There is nothing impressive about me, pretty boy.
Well, my guitar skills are solid I guess. So what was it?

Not your guitar skills. Well. Not mainly

You being coy, Stevie? Scared of little old me?

Are you? Old I mean?

Depends what you consider old but seeing as I am just
two years older than you, guess not.

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. Eddie was not an old creepy dude. He was around the same age, funny, easy going, talented.
Conversation flowed without feeling forced, a fun little back and forth and Steve felt like he could get addicted to this already.

No, not old. Also, it was your eyes.

My eyes?

That left an impression, dude.

Oh, well. Way to make a guy blush, Stevie.
That was the last thing I expected.

Why? People don't have eyes themselves?

Steve didn't get an instant reply. It seemed like Eddie was thinking about what to say. The idea that he made the other man blush or feel a bit shy, was making his pulse pick up.
He grabbed his water bottle from the night stand a took a sip, while waiting for an answer. It came a minute later, seeming a bit more distant than before.

I wear a disguise for a reason.
Makes people notice other things first usually.

Again Steve wondered what the actual reason was. But he didn't want to be insensitive about it so he wasn't going to just ask. From what he could tell though, Eddie seemed like a genuine dude, with a nice smile, great hair and the prettiest brown eyes. He wanted to put the rest of his face together like a puzzle. And the fact that he couldn't made him both frustrated and nervous at the mystery that remained.
Shit, he almost sounded like those booktok girls. Urgh.

Yeah, I saw the comments under the posts
on your band account. Is it weird that people
objectify you like that?

Shit,yeah I guess? A bit?
Can't help but feel like a fraud sometimes

Why's that? I mean, it's not like you're
unattractive. And you're talented.
Where's the fraud?

For the next five minutes Steve was staring at his phone. He was about to turn off his screen when another message plopped up. Ignoring his message entirely.

I gotta go to sleep, pretty boy.
Thanks for making tonight even better.

Anytime, Eddie. Pleasure was mine.
Sweet dreams!

He put his phone to charge and turned off his light. Confusion lingered as he stared at his dark ceiling. He couldn't help but think he fucked up the conversation some way but wasn't really sure what he did to make Eddie flee from talking to him.

At some point sleep had taken him apparently because when Steve came to, it was the next morning and the sun was mercilessly shining through the window to his right and making him regret not closing the blinds last night.

He stretched with a groan, flexing his limbs, bones cracking with the movement. God, he needed to go for a run later. Shake off some of the stiffness.

For now he peeled himself from his blanket and got up, took a pee and a quick shower and dressed himself with a lose gray sweater and matching sweatpants. Today was going to be a lazy day, so why bother putting on proper clothes?

Grabbing his phone he shuffled out of his room and over to the kitchen. He made himself a nice big cup of black tea with milk an sugar, hooked his Spotify to their speaker system and started making breakfast while listening to his favorite 80s playlist, singing along. He couldn't care less if it was off tune.

He turns on his TV, TV full, full of junk
Processed zombies pushing junk
Junk food, junk clothes
Dressed in junk from head to toe

Eat what you′re given
Eat what you get
Eat what you're given
Eat what you get

[Bronski Beat - Junk]

Robins messy head of hair appeared as soon as the pan started sizzling with delicious omelet.
“You're a god sent, dingus!” she yawned and rubbed her eyes, smudged with black liner and dropped herself onto one of their bar stools.
Steve put down a cup of fresh steaming coffee in front of her, a plate with freshly cut cucumber and small tomatoes and then slid the egg onto a plate for Robin before making his own, still humming along to the music.
She moaned at the fist bite.
“Shit, if I wasn't into women I'd ask you to marry me. This is insane!”
He laughed and drank his tea.



“So, wanna know something funny that happened last night after we got home?” Steve asked later, when they were both showered and lying on their huge corduroy L – shaped couch.
Robin was currently hugging a pillow to her chest and eating a Curly Wurly.
“Shoot!” she smacked her lips, looking like an eager puppy.
Steve cleared his throat and unlocked his phone. He pulled out yesterdays conversation he'd had with Eddie, scrolled up to the top and handed his phone over to his friend.
It took a few second for her to understand what she was seeing.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Steeeve!” she shrieked. “He actually stalked you on Insta? And he - “ she scrolled down and quickly skimmed over the texts. “ - flirted with you? Is he - he's into you?”

“Nah, it's just some casual flirting. He probably flirts with his groupies all day. Not that I am one – a groupie I mean. He was probably still riding his post concert high or something and I was just – there. I – I did check out his profile and I read some of the thirsty comments..”
He scratched his neck, feeling a little flushed at the admission.

“Oh you kinky bastard!” she laughed. “You're into the whole mysterious bad boy thing too? Gonna let him rail you without ever knowing what he looks like? Can he keep the mask on? That your thing now?”

He gaped like a fish because Robin really had no filter sometimes.
But thinking about some anonymous man calling the shots while he was all exposed and vulnerable, ready to get on his knees if told only sounded half bad. He also felt like Eddie wasn't a stranger. Their conversation had felt oddly comfortable and personal from the start. Steve wondered if Eddie calling him a good boy had been a slip up of something that usually happened in a different context.
He had been a very vanilla kind of man up until now but – his mind was going places he really shouldn't go. So he shook it off and stored it somewhere deep to get back to later.

“No, Rob! I am not gonna let him rail me!” he deflected. “ I do wanna know who he actually is. But – I do admit his whole stage persona is kind of hot. And you weren't there behind the bar when we talked. It was funny and easy and kind of dorky. His voice is unfairly hot and those curls Rob. I wanna bury my hands in them. Am I going insane?”

Robin leaned into him with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder, phone resting in his lap.
“You've been single for too long, dingus. You deserve to meet someone nice. I just think you need someone real. He feels like a fake person made up for the public and I am not sure the real Eddie is the same as the man you met. Maybe you should go out with me sometime, you know? Meet someone nice and approachable and actually real.”

“Maybe” he said and looked back at his phone, back at Eddie's profile with all the little thirst traps pushing all of his buttons.

Robin noticed immediately and blew a raspberry against his shoulder.
“Okay, fiiine. Gimme.” she groaned and snatched his phone from his lap. “ Let's look at your fantasy boy some more, jeez.”

Steve loved her.

Chapter Text

I overthink all my thinking
Thinking this way for you
I over-dream every dream, my love
When I dream about you
I don't know what to feel anymore
Feeling all this for you
I don't know what it means anymore
If you mean that much to me
[White Lies – Is My Love Enough?]

Eddie wasn't a social guy. He used to be. Being out late, drinking with friends at bars around town, meeting for lunch sometimes, going on dates or looking for a quick fling at some club.
He hadn't done any of those things in the past three years.
The only socializing nowadays was band practice and the gigs they played. And his DnD group.
Anything else made him anxious and paranoid. He hated the way people looked at him like he was some sort of zoo animal. Like he was a freak. And if he hid himself behind a face mask people looked at him like he was carrying something contagious and spreading it.

On stage no one cared. On stage no one judged him.
In his mind he compared himself to Gollum, he knew that wasn't fair. He didn't look that bad. But he was a little crazy, walking funny and he looked he'd been dragged behind the truck for two blocks on the left side of his body. Which wasn't – too far off.
So unless he had songs to play he kept to himself. Ordered delivery most days. Took his motorcycle for a ride. She was a true beauty, all black and mean. Made him feel free to have the wind graze his skin, and the colors of the worlds rush past him.
No one judged him hiding under his helmet either.
Gareth told him it was insane he was still riding after – everything. But he refused to give up on the things he really loves. Music and his bike.

Well that and technically sex but that was hard to come by these days so he was mostly fucking his fist in the dark with his other hand around his throat when he was desperate, wishing it was someone else. Anyone else really.
It was pathetic. Sometimes he wondered if it would be easier if he were drinking. But he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in three years and he wasn't going to start now.
It was a matter of principle.
He did smoke weed, though. Lots of it. He was properly baked most of the day, not just because it turned of his depressive brain for a bit but also because it kept the aching pain in his legs at bay.
He wasn't even 30 and felt like he was pushing 70 most days.

And then there was his latest obsession. He knew he was fucked the second he had sent that direct message. Steve – plant dad, always the goddamn babysitter - was his latest obsession and he knew it was going to ruin him at some point.
He was browsing the man's feed at least once a day, looking at the most beautiful face he had seen in a long while. Maybe ever.
Steve and his goddamn smile and his fucking moles where his freaking Roman Empire.
And the fact that he complimented Eddie made him want to flip a table. He knew it was a bunch of crap but he couldn't help but feel things about the way Steve had praised his skills and his style.

They had messaged each other. A lot. It was funny and friendly like they had known each other for a lot longer, familiar in a way. And it was flirty sometimes. Well, most of the time. No really sure why Steve was bothering with him. He didn't even know what he looked like after all. Not going to either.
But he liked the suggestive undertone in their conversations.

Made his skin tingly and his pants tight.
And if his mind envisioned the fingers squeezing his leaking dick to belong to a mousy brown haired tousled head of hair and hazel eyes, who could blame him?
It's not like they were going to meet again. It was safe. Well – except he was an absolute idiot apparently and had to make things unnecessarily – real.

See, he wasn't a social person but Steve for some reason made him want to be one again. It was like a spark had caught fire and the little flame was eating away at him from the inside. Making him want. Making him desire. Making him want to be desired.

Which is why he was currently questioning his sanity as he looked at the conversation of this fine Wednesday morning.

Morning Eddie :)

Morning, sunshine. Sleep okay?

Tired. Wanna nap :'(

Ow, why can't you? What's up?

Oh I am actually at work...

Stevie, Stevie. Such a bad boy. Texting

me while you should be working!

Well, I have a work related question, so...

Oh? How can I help?

So, I dunno if u know but we have a small
record shop at the Café

I did stalk your Insta :P So, yes I know.
Ngl, looks cozy af.

Thanks! 🖤
I was just wondering if your band had like
an EP or something? Friend of mine wants to
put together this little local corner with gigs in
the area and music to sell along..

That sounds amazing! In fact we do have a LP.
I basically begged my band mates to have it made.
We sell them at our gigs sometimes. Since I collect records myself I couldn't not :)

That sounds great! So would you wanna
participate and sell us a small number?
Maybe you could even sign them ;) ?

If that'd make you happy, sure. I could bring them over? It's only a short ride.

It would!
I'll treat you to whatever you want off the menu!

Tempting. Shit, guess I'll see you in a bit.

Can't wait.🖤


What the fuck had he just done?
He didn't go places! He didn't just visit people! How was he supposed to pull this off without giving away his identity?

Fuuuuuuuuck.

Steve was pacing up and down in his office, a small room at the back of his shop, where he usually didn't spend much time because Robin was doing his book keeping. But now the room was occupied by him pulling himself up on the desk biting his nails and trying to get his anxiety back under control.

It's been five days since the concert and five days since he's started developing an addiction to his phone. First thing in the morning was checking Eddie's Insta stories. Most of them consisted of funny captions and memes, record recommendations from his collection, sometimes accompanied by Eddie's ringed hands holding things into the camera.

And those hands sure did things to Steve. Big and rough, heavy jewelry, black nails. He imagined what those hands would feel like buried in his hair, massaging his scalp or – pulling his hair in a not so gentle way, pushing him around.
Both thoughts made Steve spiral down a road he really shouldn't walk at all.
It had been safe though. He didn't think he would see Eddie again anyway so there was no harm in letting his mind drift a bit, right? Sue him, he was an underfucked lonely man in his twenties.
And Eddie was pretty much the blue print for everything he wanted. Rough around the edges but a genuinely nice dude. Little dorky, always a little over the top and in a flirty mood. Showering Steve in pet names and compliments and – attention. Steve loved how he felt like Eddie actually wanted to get to know him.
It felt safe to open up to him because he felt like he didn't have anything to lose. Because Eddie was like some kind of persona, real but not real enough to be threatening or intimidating.

Well, up until this morning since Eddie agreed to come by to stock his band's music in his shop and now Steve was losing his mind about it.
He was the one who asked in the first place so it was his own fault really. But he didn't actually think Eddie would say yes! The man was like a phantom, a faceless fantasy he could project his own desires on to – which might not be entirely fair - but now he was going to be very real and present in his actual life and that was just – positively terrifying.

++++

Dustin, who was working part time for him was currently occupying the cash register when Steve came back out from the office, eyebrow raised in curiosity. He could obviously tell something was up.
“What's got you so freaked out, Steve?” The younger man asked and pulled a small bag with Matcha powder from the shelf behind him. He went ahead and made a big glass full of nice hot Matcha Latte and passed it over to Steve.
God, how he loved that kid. He knew exactly how to calm his nerves.
“Thanks man” he took a sip, searching for the right words. He sighed.

“Corroded Coffins lead singer is coming over and dropping off a few of their LP's to sell in our local record corner.” he dropped the bomb.
It took a few seconds, then Dustin's facial expressions went through different stages of 'yeah, right' to 'wait really?!' till he looked thoroughly shocked now.

“WHAT?” he barked out. “How to you know Eddie Munson and why would he be coming over?!”

Steve scratched his chin, a little flustered.
“I – uhm – met him when Robin took me to one of their gigs? Doesn't really matter. But we texted some and he says he's gonna bring over some music and I am lowkey nervous now because, I mean –“

“Steve-?” Dustin cut him off, a small grin forming on his face, growing bigger by the second.
He was leaning over the counter, head resting on his elbows.
“Are you into him, Steve?”

“What?! No!” Steve deflected and threw his hands up. The Latte nearly spilled with the movement.
“Don't be ridiculous. I don't even know what he looks like!” His cracking voice was betraying him.

Dustin was beaming like an uranium rod.
“Oh, you'd like him. Believe me.”

That had Steve confused for a moment.

“How would you know?” he asked with furrowed brows, sipping on his drink. It was heavenly, really. Dustin was his favorite Barista. He had trained him himself and maybe he was even better than his teacher now. Not that Steve would ever admit that out loud. Dude's ego was big enough already.

He looked over to the door were a couple came in and claimed one of their cozy nooks in he corner. Max was already coming through the kitchen door to serve them, giving Steve ad Dustin small nod and a friendly “dipshits” as a greeting while she rushed past to attend to her job.
Steve looked back at Dustin.
“How do you know, Henderson?” he pressed again.
The kid bit it bottom lip, like he was debating whether to be honest or not.
“I – uhm. I told you I joined Gareth's DnD group a couple month ago right? We meet every other week?”

“Yeah? What's got Dragons & Dumbasses to do with it?”

“Well, Eddie's our dm? Like, he leads the game? So that's how I met him. They were a little hesitant to let me into their group at first. Eddie doesn't love new people I suppose? Gareth was practically begging. But he's awesome, Steve! So awesome! I only found out afterwards that he was part of Corroded Coffin as well.”

Steve felt a little dizzy at the realization that Eddie and his private life's were pretty entangled already. And apparently Dustin knew what the man looked like. Lucky asshole.

“You good, Steve?” Dustin asked, still grinning like an ecstatic idiot.
“Sure, thanks. I – yeah” his phone vibrated in his pocket and he put his now empty glass down on the counter to check the screen.

I'm outside.

“I gotta go.” he choked out and rubbed his sweaty palm against his jeans before he beelined for the door.

When he stepped outside he was met with a sleek looking black sport motorcycle sitting on the curb right in front of the door and on it sat – Eddie, looking at his phone in his hands. Not that Steve could actually tell it was him with the helmet on but somehow he just knew. The man was dressed in a vintage leather jacket over a dark gray hoodie, black cargo pants with a wallet chain dangling from it and vans.
Of course he was a hot motorcycle dude. Fuck his life.

As he approached, Eddie lifted his head and quickly put his phone in his jacket pocket.
“Stevie!” he exclaimed, sounding like an over exited puppy. He climbed from his machine in a way too clumsy way which Steve found oddly adorable. Then he unclasped the buckle of his helmet and pulled it off his head.

For a second Steve thought he'd get the big face reveal but Eddie was wearing a black balaclava underneath, only leaving his eyes for Steve to admire. And shit, those brown eyes where sure something. So big and rich like liquid chocolate, disarming him and just looking right at him.
They were crinkled on the side. He knew Eddie was smiling a him.

“Hi, you” Steve greeted a little breathless offering a small awkward finger wave.
Eddie just snorted in amusement, stumbled forward and pulled him into a quick tight hug.
He smelled like sandalwood and weed.

Steve wanted to inhale it like a drug, cling to the other man but the embrace was over way too fast for him to be able to memorize properly.
Eddie nudged his arm with his elbow, like they were best friends or something, giving him a small wink.

“It's good to see you in your natural environment, man” he said, seeming just as nervous as Steve judging by the thin tremor in his voice. He felt a little relieved at that.
“Should've know your actually more of a jock.” Eddie flicked the white collar of the shirt peeking out from under his dark green sweater. He was so close. Steve felt like his heart was going to crack a bone from hammering against his rib cage.

“I'm not!” Steve argued then scratched his head. “Well, not anymore. Used to be in High School. Played Basketball, wore my Letterman jacket thinking I was impressive and shit. I was a bit of an ass to be honest.” He wasn't proud of his teenage self.

“Damn, Stevie. Feeding all my locker room fantasies right now.” Eddie laughed, throwing is head back.

The comment inevitably conjured images of himself in his old basketball shorts on his knees for Eddie in a dark locker room to his mind.
Fuck. Shit.
There was an awkward silence before Eddie shrugged a backpack off his shoulders.
“Well anywaaaaay - “ he started fumbling with the buckle of his backpack looking a little flustered.
He pulled out a stack of records, offering them with a little “Et voilá!” and a dramatic bow.

Steve took them from him with a smile. “This is so awesome. Thank you so much! Wanna come inside, I'll show you around and make you a drink?”

He could tell Eddie was biting his lip, looking a little coy. “Uhm – I kind of look like I want to rob the place, don't wanna chase away your customers, man.” he shrugged, feigning indifference but Steve could tell he was a little ashamed.

“It's my place, Eddie. I can do whatever the fuck I want. And right now I'd really love for you to come in and let me make you a nice hot coffee, alright?” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, confidence fragile like the stack of vinyl he was balancing. But Eddie didn't seem to realize as he nodded and tucked his helmet under is arm and followed Steve inside through the dark wooden door.
“Welcome to my humble abode, my liege” Steve joked which earned him a surprised cough from Eddie. “Sorry, hanging around too many nerds. They rub off on me.”

“Don't worry. I'm into it.” Eddie barked out, as he scanned the interior of Steve's Café. Then his eyes came to a stop at the counter, where Dustin was currently grinding some coffee beans.

“Henderson?!” Eddie exclaimed, joy with a hint of confusion in his voice.

“Munson, you little freak!” Dustin yelled back with the biggest smile, earning them a few weird glances from the customers. Most of them were regulars and used to the little weirdness of Steve's place. It felt more like a casual big shared apartment living room sometimes. People coming and going, staying to play games or talk music. It was all very laid back.
Dustin rushed over from the coffee machine and pulled Eddie into a friendly hug.

“Good to see you! Digging the bank robber cosplay.” he teased.
Eddie snickered and tousled Henderson's curly head of hair. “ Asshole”he insulted without any malice. “Didn't know you worked here!”

“Yeah Steve here has a tendency to hire all of his friends.”

Eddie raised and eyebrow looking a Steve. “You friends with many kids way younger than you?” he asked, looking amused.

Steve shrugged, hands on his hips. “Always the babysitter, man. Picked them up while I was still finishing High School and now I am still mothering all of these kids years later. They grow up so fast, don't they, huh Dusty-bun?” he said in a baby voice and poked Dustin's cheek.

“Oh fuck off, Steve. I am a legal adult. You both know that! ” the younger laughed and joke punched him against the chest.

“Ouch, you wound me! Is that any way to talk to your boss?”

Dustin stuck out his tongue. Then his eyes landed on the stack of records in Steve's arms.
“Shit Eddie, you brought the good stuff! Mike is gonna be thrilled to get more music for the local corner.”

“Yeah, uhm. So half are signed by all of us, left from one of our last gigs were we could actually set up some merch and half of them is just regular unsigned.”

“Awesome. I think people will love it!” Dustin bounced on his heels in excitement. Then his eyes flickered to Steve. “Alright. You do your stuff. I need to grind some beans!” he exclaimed and was about to head back to his station. “See you Friday for DnD, Munson.”

But Eddie held up a hand to stop him in his movement. “Actually – If you wanna,we're having a small gig tonight. Local. Just like ten minutes from here. You should both come. Bring some friends. The more the merrier. “

“Sounds awesome, man! I'd love to come! Where and when?” Dustin asked, eyes shining with excitement.

Eddie cleared his voice before answering, sounding more like a question. “Uh- at The Whip at 8pm?”

Dustin's eyes grew larger, then he laughed. “Isn't that like – some kinky club?”

Steve's head whipped around.
“How do you know a kinky club, Henderson? And do I actually want to know the answer to that? You're a child, man!”

Eddie raised both his hands in a surrendering gesture.
“It's not a kinky club. Not exactly. It's a queer friendly, fetish accepting bar. They do have themed parties from time to time but not always!”

Steve was growing redder by the second. His imagination was totally out of control, supplying images of leather and latex and Eddie in the midst of all of it.

“Sounds fun. We'll be there.” he said way too fast, voice a little higher than usual. He hoped no one noticed.
Dustin obviously did. Smug grin on his face he walked backwards to the counter.

“Oh we'll definitely be there. You better get some fashion advice from Robin again, Steve. Get your mesh out or something! ”
Then he was back to making coffee.

For a few seconds there was silence between Eddie and him, they just looked at each other. The Indie music playing the only thing making this a little less awkward. Eddie was looking right at him, never breaking eye contact. It was making him way too nervous. He wasn't used to so much eye contact.

“Well, what do I owe you for the records, Eddie?” Steve finally snapped out of it setting the records aside.

“Ah yes, yeah.” Eddie seemed to stumble over his words for a second, a little lost. “ Uh, you don't owe me anything man. I like helping out. You can pay me with one of those drinks you offered before, though?”

Steve brows shot up at the generosity. “Wow, that's – uhm. Very kind of you, thank you! Here, have a menu.” He grabbed one from the nearest table and passed it over. “Lemme buy you a drink tonight after your show, too? I'll feel bad otherwise, man.”

Eddie nodded and took the menu, squinting while he started reading.
“Deal.” then he huffed in annoyance with himself. “Just- lemme - “ he fumbled with the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses from a case, sliding them on. There were simple silver wire aviator style frames and they looked so adorable Steve wanted to rip is hair out.

“You wear glasses.” he stated the obvious. Good job you idiot.

Eddie looked a little sheepish. “Yeah, only to read, though. I know, doesn't really fit the whole... vibe.” He gestured to himself.

“I love 'em” Steve grinned. “Makes you look like a very eloquent robber. Sophisticated criminal vibes.”
Eddie laughed one of his whole body laughs, tilting back.
Steve wanted to look at him all day. His laugh was like a warm embrace, making his hairs stand up.

After scanning the drinks for a bit he handed back the menu with a shrug.
“You know what? Just, surprise me, will ya? Pick something for me, okay?”

“Alright. Pressure's on.”

++++

Eddie had left soon after. The Salted Caramel Frappe had made his eyes lighting up in glee. It had also looked incredible derpy the way he'd sneaked the straw under his balaclava to drink.
They had chatted some more about what to expect from the club and how to get there.
The conversation flowed so easily it was insane to think this was only the second time they were meeting in person.

And watching Eddie pull the helmet back on and swing his long legs back on his motorcycle before driving off had left Steve with a minor problem in his pants. He wanted this man.
Steve's fingers were tingling with the sheer need of finding out what Eddie Munson actually looked like. He was going a little crazy about it.

Right now he was going even more crazy though while he was digging through his wardrobe hours later. He was on his third beer to calm his nerves, feeling slighty tipsy already. It didn't take much these days. But he wasn't the designated driver tonight, the bar actually in walking distance so he took that as an ecxuse to calm his nerves with a little alcohol.
“Robiiiiiin!” he yelled through their apartment. “ What do I wear to a semi kinky friendly establishment?”

Her head appeared in the doorway moments later.
“Funny you should ask, dingus. Think you can squeeze your ass into a pair of my leather pants? Also grab like the tightest white tee you own. I'll be right back. I have a VISION!”

Then she was gone, the sound of her rummaging around her room audible despite the hair metal playing in his bedroom. She had been way to excited after the two of them had caught up with today's events involving a very real Eddie Munson at his place of work. Robin had clapped her hands in glee and told him she wanted to be the maid of honor at their wedding. Sure Birdy.

He dug out plain white tee and pulled it over his head, the fabric snug against his toned body, sleeves stretching over his arms.
Robin came back and handed him a pair of leather pants. He toed of his own jeans and pulled them on. They felt like a second skin. He readjusted himself while Robin made a disgusted sound and then actually had to admit they looked pretty good on him. If they were a little too tight on his dick he would just suffer through it in the name of fashion.
Robin gave an approving squeal and passed him something looking like a belt or suspenders, he wasn't sure.
“It's like a harness kind of thing, dingus. You clip it on like like you would clip on suspenders. Trust me, It's gonna pull this whole thing together, put on one of your silver necklaces and wear the combat boots from last Halloween, okay?”

“Aye aye, Rob. You seem to know what you're doing.” he mock saluted and finished getting dressed. Robin looked satisfied when he was done.
“It missing one thing. And I know you wanna say no, but please, please pretty please, will you let me put some guy liner?”

Steve sighed in defeat. Maybe it was the beer talking.
“Know what? Go nuts, Rob.”

“Fuck yeah. Eddie's going to want to devour you!”

++++

“The Whip” was a busy place. Dustin was waiting for them already, Max at his side. Both with some fruity cocktail in hand. Their outfits looked like pretty simple club attire. It was strange seeing them in a place like this. In Steve's mind they had only been kids yesterday. And now they were old enough to drink. His brain hadn't caught up yet.

When they saw Steve in his get up, Dustin actually wolf whistled.
“Holy shit, Steve. I didn't know you knew how to dress!”
Robin laughed, tugging on her dress, looking incredible.
“He doesn't!” she corrected. “I do.”

“That explains so much” Max supplied with a smirk. “Steve would never ever chose to wear eyeliner unless you talked him into it.”

“Does it look bad?” Steve asked, pouting.

“No. Not it – You look good, Steve.” Max complimented with a faint blush on her face and took a big sip of his drink.

“Alright let's hydrate!” he said and stumbled to the bar, ordering something with a ridiculous name that promised to get him buzzed in no time. Robin ordered something equally obnoxious and both of them nearly moaned in delight at the sweet rich taste of their drinks.
“Holy shit, this is good!” she exclaimed and took in their surroundings. The bar wasn't anything too special. It was the crowd that made it special.

There were way more same sex couples here than he usually saw while partying.
There was also a decent amount of people dressing in what some would call fetish gear. A cute strawberry blond girl with a shiny pale pink latex dress and matching pink platform heels.
A small dude dressed in regular clothes but with a thick silver metal collar around their neck talking to a group of girls with colorful hair colors and even more colorful outfits. A good amount of leather harnesses similar to his own.

It was a good day for his often anxious mind, preventing him to let loose on some days. But today he felt completely relaxed and at piece.
This place felt incredibly unique and safe in the best way. He loved it already.
“We gotta go here more often, Robs! “ he yelled over the music as they made their way back to their friends. She nodded enthusiastically. “ Didn't think this would be your kind of crowd but I love that you love it!”

Once reunited, Dustin tapped the watch on his wrist. “Five more minutes, wanna go to the front?” he asked.
They nodded in unison and pushed through he loose crowd of people past the bar all the way to the very back of the room, were the relatively small stage sat.

Since Max was the smallest, Steve pulled her in front of him, so they were basically occupying the first two rows.
Steve felt his pulse picking up.
He was going to see Eddie on stage again. Hear him sing and perform again.

Now that they had actually spoken and gotten to know each other a bit, Steve wasn't too sure how he'd handle this weird obsession with the man.

The lights went down and there was a buzzing tension forming in the air, everyone awaiting Corroded Coffin to take the stage.

And when the band did finally walk out with the crowd cheering so loud it made Steve's ears ring, he felt himself glued to the spot, transfixed.
He swallowed around the knot in his throat, feeling a little dizzy.
There was an elbow poking him in the side, and as he looked over it was Robin trying to get his attention. She leaned into him with a wide grin, cupping her hand around his ear to block he noise out.
“He looks hot, doesn't he?” she yelled and leaned back, raising a fist in the air to cheer with everyone else. The band members assumed their positions behind their instruments but Steve couldn't pull his eyes from Eddie.

He was wearing his chunky ass boots, tight black ripped pants tucked into them and over that some kind of open skirt situation with all sorts of buckles and dangly bits. A pair of handcuffs was hooked into one of the belt loops. There was an excessive amount of jewelry around his neck, silver layered on top of more silver. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt, so tight, Steve swore he could see the outline of a nipple piercing poking through on one side.
What had him drooling though, was the way Eddie hat his hair up in some sort of half updo, a loose high ponytail at the back of his head but the lower part was untied and pooling around his shoulders. The sturdy leather buckles of his face mask looking like the perfect hair accessory between his messy curls. And those lips. Curled into the most vicious unhinged grin he grabbed the mic off the stand, twirling it through the air by the cable a few times before grabbing it with the other hand to speak.

“Hello hello hello fellow freaks!”
The crowd screamed.
“Glad to see you all tonight. We brought a few songs for you, picked the finest selection of the filthiest most unhinged songs we ever played. You good with that?”
Everyone yelled in agreement.
“Figured, you weirdos. So I want you guys loud and dirty tonight, alright?! This is 'Slide It In' !” Eddie screamed and then Steve felt like he had an out of body experience when Eddie started playing and singing like the gorgeous mother fucker he was.

Hit me with a hootin' stick

You talk too much
Always speaking your mind
Words you say to me
When you treatin' me so unkind

Baby, I know it
I'm not, I'm not gonna show it
Give me what I want
I'm, I'm out of love

I'm gonna slide it in, right to the top
Gonna slide it in, I ain't never gonna stop
Slide it in, right to the top
Gonna slide it in, slide it in, slide in
Yes, baby
[Whitesnake – Slide It In]

By the time the song was over Steve was probably gaping and maybe drooling a little.
“Holy Shit! The dude's actually insane!” he heard Max yell while clapping a like a maniac herself.
“They're all insane!”
And yeah, she was right about that. Robin had said something similar last time. It was a common reaction apparently.

Steve took the next song to try and get his shit back together and calm his raging pulse.
The lyrics were little more tame, the instrumental brutal, he wasn't too sure from with century the music even was.

But he hummed along and forced to detach his gaze from Eddie for a second to look at his friends and the rest of the crowd.
Everyone looked like they had the best time. Approximately three rows behind them someone had opened a little mosh pit. The small layout of the bar didn't really allow it but they somehow managed anyhow.
Then the song was over and Eddie was laughing into the mic, pointing into the people.
“Love the pit effort there, guys! You're nuts!”

Then he swung his guitar to the side and reached for his belt loop. Gareth was creating a suspenseful rhythm on the drums as background music.
Eddie detached the cuffs, fuzzy black fabric covering he metal and flicked them around his index finger.
Then he leaned in close to the mic, his lips touching it while he spoke with the lowest voice he could manage.
“Alright, you little horny dogs. This next song is called 'On Your Knees' and since we're a The Whip of all places I wanna give you all something nice to look at. So many gorgeous fuckers here tonight.
I'm gonna need a volunteer to visualize the lyrics for us. Anyone?” He stuck out his tongue, looking like an actual crazy person.

Then there was a forceful tug on Steve's arm and Max squeezed past him with solid determination, pushing him forward and pretty much trading places so he was at the very front now, nearly keeling over the stage edge.
Eddie eyes immediately landed on him, keeping the contact while he leaned into the mic again.
“Well, who do we have here, looking like a damn snack tonight?” He winked obnoxiously at him as to say 'Please play along' and so Steve did. He could act like the innocent victim. He felt like a victim anyway. Stripped bare under Eddie burning gaze.

“It's Steve!” he yelled, hands cupped around his mouth, eyes wide. He was feeling hot all over, a tingly feeling in his abdomen because he wasn't really sure what he was getting himself into but he wanted it so bad nonetheless. He'd do anything at this point.

“Steve, huh? You wanna be a good boy, Steve?” Eddie asked like they were the only people in the room and the bar wasn't boiling with folks cheering him on.

He could only nod like a fucking Golden Retriever that got offered the shiniest new toy.
Yes, yeah he could be good.

“Someone's eager! Shit, sunshine. You wanna get on your pretty knees for us?” Eddie asked and for a second Steve thought his heart would stop because the pet name was really a break of Eddie's stage persona, the lines somehow becoming a little blurry.
It made Steve wonder if that's what the other man actually liked or if he was just pretending for the show.
Either way, he wasn't gonna pass the opportunity to get material for lonely night to get off to.

Eddie offered a ringed rough hand and curtly pulled Steve up the stage, the warm grip lingering as the hand came to a rest around his wrist.
The crowd lost their mind once they saw him.
“Guess the crowd approves” Eddie mused out loud. “Y'all got good taste. He's a pretty one isn't he?”

The audience cheered in approval.
Usually Steve would be half an inch from a panic attack by now at the sight of so many eyes on him. But he was slightly drunk and a little fuzzy in the head from Eddie's voice. He knew he was going to be okay somehow. Eddie's touch a grounding support.
For a second Eddie leaned in and whispered into his ear, just for the two of them to hear. The man's hot breath against his ear making him shiver.
“You're okay with this, Stevie?”

He nodded, apparently still unable to form coherent sentences. Eddie chuckled, still right next to him.
“This won't do, silly. I am a fan of enthusiast verbal consent. So. Are you okay with this, Steve?”

Get a grip. Get a grip. Breath in. Breath out.
“Yeah. Yep, I'm good.” he chocked out and turned his head to look at Eddie. He'd expected him to move back but he hadn't moved an inch so they were basically nose to nose if it wasn't for Eddie's stage disguise Steve wanted to rip off so badly by now.
The stage light burning down on them, making Steve feel even hotter than he already was.

Eddie grinned right at him. “That's the spirit” he whispered. Steve could feel Eddie's breath against his lips. And for a seconds he wanted to lean in and capture those lips with his own. Wondering if Eddie would let him.
But he pulled back, taking the mic again and breaking their little bubble.

“Alrighty, Steve. On your knees, wrists up. Show us how pretty you look down there, yeah?” he demanded and Steve felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through him.

He sunk to his knees right on the spot, offering his hands like he was praying. Eyes fixated on Eddie's every move.

The man bit his lips like he was trying real hard to keep it together as he wrapped the cuffs around his wrist and clicked them shut, resting snugly against his skin.
Steve dropped his cuffed wrists into his lap, staring up with wide eyes.
His pants felt really uncomfortable by now and he should probably start thinking about moldy food or old people or somethings else to distract him from how fucking aroused he was in the middle of a stage in a packed bar.
This felt way too intimate for a just an act to please the audience.
Eddie looked like he had a similar thought crossing through his mind. He actually laughed into the microphone.

“Well folks, not gonna lie, I'm gonna have a hard time concentrating with a view like this. But here we fucking go. On Your Knees by W.A.S.P. ! “ He pulled his guitar back to the front the the song opened with screeching instrumentals.
When Eddie finally started screaming out the lyrics, Steve felt himself blushing so furiously he could probably compete with a fire hydrant with how red he was in the face.

Playing with fire, lust in you burns
Reflecting the flames in your eyes
Sex and pain insane, they're really the same
Misused and confused, bound and tied

On Your knees,
You shall be on your knees
'cause I want you on your knees
You shall be on your knees
And I need you on your knees
You shall be on your knees
'cause I want you on your knees
You shall be on your knees

On your knees that's where you all shall be
Well I bid you come taste your first deadly sin
Riding the wild wind and the door to submission
Will open and you shall fall in

Steve was straight up gaping at Eddie, feeling lightheaded and so freaking horny. Those lyrics were fucking unhinged.
His leather pants were digging into his crotch, his bound wrists hiding the tent in his pants as best as they could. He felt at a total loss of control. And for some reason he felt actually fine about that and not like he was going to fall into panic. Instead he felt kind of high. Because he trusted Eddie. Completely and irrevocably.

He wanted this mysterious man so bad it was honestly embarrassing.

He was fucked. Totally and utterly fucked.