[ wash is looking forward to the game. he's an idle hand, these days, work and wandering around and visiting south now that she's moved out of the public housin, spiralling, frustrated, taking out his frustrations on anything he can. sometimes those outlets are -- violent. terrible. sometimes he can just lose himself in a different person for a awhile. and eddie, unlikely as he might seem, had just kind of dropped himself into wash's lap by pure chance, and wash is happy to seize on that opportunity. their first conversation had quickly unravelled from wash gently testing and pushing to eddie readily accepting if not doubling down on anything wash was willing to give him, and well. here they are.
wash had showed up to the show tonight. he had seen eddie approach at least one person, watched them slip off into the bathroom, and as tempting as it was to linger and find a way to watch he'd decided this was the time to make his exit. he's only just gotten back when eddie's messages ping up on his phone, and god, those are good pictures, standing in his elevator for whole minute or two just quietly considering them without pressing a button. eddie kneeling and obviously hard, tongue sticking out obediently, coated lewdly in come, dripping down. two pictures at once, one bright and challenging and a little defiant, and the second, that wash can gather is more recent if he hadn't recognized his outfit, is a little more resigned.
sweet boy. getting discouraged already. probably still doesn't quite know what he's getting into. but that's fine.
the response that eddie gets will be a picture. wash had taken it on his way into the show, just a snap of the stage before the show, an audience filing in, lights still up. he'd been there, alright, and just to make it a point that he was even there tonight wash follows with a text message listing of the songs eddie's played, his entire set list, in order. an additional note of an encore. wash has a perfect memory, and there's no shame in putting it to frivolous use when he can't turn it off. ]
Questioning if a fan has even been to your shows isn't a great way to keep them coming back, Eddie.
Say you're sorry, and maybe I'll let you come.
[ they're good pictures. very good shots, really. but eddie's cheek here takes priority. ]
no subject
wash had showed up to the show tonight. he had seen eddie approach at least one person, watched them slip off into the bathroom, and as tempting as it was to linger and find a way to watch he'd decided this was the time to make his exit. he's only just gotten back when eddie's messages ping up on his phone, and god, those are good pictures, standing in his elevator for whole minute or two just quietly considering them without pressing a button. eddie kneeling and obviously hard, tongue sticking out obediently, coated lewdly in come, dripping down. two pictures at once, one bright and challenging and a little defiant, and the second, that wash can gather is more recent if he hadn't recognized his outfit, is a little more resigned.
sweet boy. getting discouraged already. probably still doesn't quite know what he's getting into. but that's fine.
the response that eddie gets will be a picture. wash had taken it on his way into the show, just a snap of the stage before the show, an audience filing in, lights still up. he'd been there, alright, and just to make it a point that he was even there tonight wash follows with a text message listing of the songs eddie's played, his entire set list, in order. an additional note of an encore. wash has a perfect memory, and there's no shame in putting it to frivolous use when he can't turn it off. ]
Questioning if a fan has even been to your shows isn't a great way to keep them coming back, Eddie.
Say you're sorry, and maybe I'll let you come.
[ they're good pictures. very good shots, really. but eddie's cheek here takes priority. ]