fugue // stucky

20. Housewife

SMUT WARNING!!

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I love living with Steve. It's so fun. I can see why I did it another life ago. He likes to dance, and even though he thinks he's pretty bad at it, he's exceptionally talented. His body twists and moves in ways I didn't know possible for such a big man. I usually sit on the couch and watch as he either tap dances or just goes all out to a needle spinning in the background. My hands are folded under my chin, my elbows digging into my knees. Right now he's moving his heels and creating rhythmic patterns on the wooden floor at such a fast pace, I can't keep up.

The song ends and Steve's panting by then, his arms shooting up in lazy jazz hands. I giggle and pat my lap, his eyes softening as his huge god-like body moves gracefully over. He sits down on my lap and drapes his arms around my neck. His breathing is still heavy, and I make a point of not smothering him too soon, just barely gracing his ribs with my fingertips. A whirl of white surrounds me as I'm pulling back in time.

"Buck! Look what I learned today!" I hear a loud shout from deep inside our apartment as soon as I open the door. I low rumble of a laugh whispers through me and I lock the door behind me, tossing my dark leather bag aside as a small body skips into the tiny, poorly-lit living space. Steve grins up at me and I smile back as I undo my choking tie, my fingers ambled and absentminded. Steve watches me intently before shaking his bony structure and putting a smile back on.

"I was down at the studio, and I was watching some guys dance, and they did this cool thing, and I came home and practiced- now, look!" His voice is light, his happiness and pride outshining him.

He jumps immediately into it, first his left toe, then his right, then the heels. He picks up the pace, his eyes studying his feet as his hands pull up his slacks. I have no clue about anything dance related, but the way his legs are bending and jolting around is fun to watch. I hear a song come out of his feet, and smile as he finishes his quirky routine with towering jazz hands.

"I loved it," I smile, my eyes and nose crinkling. Steve is breathing a little heavy, and I walk over to him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. He sighs and sinks into me.

"I made pasta," Steve whispers, looking up at me.

"Dancing? Cooking? You'd make the perfect housewife," I joke and he rolls his eyes, tugging me into the kitchen.

I shake my head and my ears clear from constant ringing.

"Buck?" I hear a whisper and open my eyes to see Steve in the same position, this time with worry sketched on his face. I lean forward and kiss him lightly. My lips massage his in the best way I know how, earning a small and warm sigh from him. I pull back quickly before it gets too heated.

"Do you mind grabbing that book behind you, doll?" I whisper and Steve stares into my eyes, nodding. He twists his torso around and grabs a small black leather notebook. My one of many. They're strewn across the house now, much like they used to be in my own. He gently hands it to me along with a pen and I flip it to a random page, hoping there is room. I frown as I open up to a page with angry red writing. I skim my flesh forefinger over the hard indents and read, 'fell off train. he didn't jump. bad man.'

I'm confused at first, then remember. Steve. Steve is the man. He's not bad though. Not at all. He's the only good thing I've ever known. He's the only love I've ever known. I look up at him and find him staring down at the page, absolute terror slamming into his features. Tears leak out of his eyes, his mouth dropped in shock.

"Wait, Steve, listen-"

"I.. I'll be right back," Steve shimmies his legs over mine and tries to stand up. I grab his hip.