[SWS] Yeah, 'scuse me? Got the time?

[eversohandsome]

[Continuation from here!]

"Can't if you're doing that," Bob replies, soft voice softer still and barely a murmur. He's already doing this with Arthur far closer to home than he should be, but his brain isn't worried about details like that right now. Instead he's focusing in on how the other man's lips that close to his own makes him feel high.

"

Comments

[eversohandsome]

Bob lives in a one-bedroom flat in Battersea, one that he's pulling Arthur towards with every step they take. It's not huge but there's enough space for him and he has a good view of the south London landmark Battersea Power Station from his back garden.

He's never usually home all that much, usually just using the place to sleep in, and he certainly never takes anyone back there. It's usually whoever he's sleeping with for the night who provides the accommodation. But this feels like the most natural thing in the world to do. His entire initial reason for wanting to come back here was to keep Arthur from having a heart attack or getting into a fight.

"I haven't been back to my flat in a few days," he admits as they get closer to his road, offering up a slightly less heated smile. Though this time it has nothing to do with bedmates and more to do with having to sleep in a car one night and having an X Box tournament for the next two at a friend's. It's hard to stay hard when you've got to walk all the way home from the station.

"But I think it's tidy."

[littlspecificty]

Bob really doesn't need to pull Arthur; he's coming quite willingly. And usually, this is what Arthur does with other people - he never brings them to where he lives but goes with them or puts up money for a hotel (that way it's easier to leave before they wake back up).

Arthur snorts, bumping his shoulder with Bob's, "As long as animals don't come streaming out of the front door when you open it, I'm sure it'll be fine."

[eversohandsome]

"I have no pets or pest problems," Bob promises with a smirk, enjoying the way Arthur is keeping up their contact at all times. It's enough to send him careening back from casual conversation to what they're going to do when they get back there.

"My kitchen doesn't have any Michelin stars either."

[littlspecificty]

A soft brush at Bob's waist as his tone is flat, "I'm sure I'll survive."

Adding, "Provided your food is in date."

[eversohandsome]

"Can't promise much past baked beans for sure," Bob says with a childlike grin, triumphant only because of the hand at his waist. Up until this point he's been aching to touch the other man all over but hasn't quite thought it would be welcomed. Now he's more sure.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur makes a rude noise, possibly pinching Bob at the waist, "If that's how it's going to be, I'll order something. Need more than beans to do what you're planning."

Adding also, "I can pay for it."

[eversohandsome]

"Never heard of a baked bean bath?" He's very much teasing now, eyes alight with mirth at their back and forth. The pinch provokes a chuckle.

"I know you can but it's cool. I've got it."

[littlspecificty]

For that little suggestion, it earns Bob a smack to his ass (and Arthur obviously suppressing a grin from his own amusement).

[eversohandsome]

"Alright!" Bob laughs his amusement and steps out of the line of fire for all of three steps before he's back at the other man's side.

"No baked beans for you," he promises as he turns into his front garden and heads for the main building doors, hand jammed into his pocket to find his keys.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur is very nearly grinning at the laugh but simply nods before asking as he follows behind Bob, trying not to crowd him while he tries to find his keys, "Do you object to pizza, then?"

It's simple, fast, and has more than enough carbs to burn off.

[eversohandsome]

"Nah, pizza's good. Just don't think stringy cheese is good to eat off someone else," Bob points out as he gets the door open and lets the both of them inside. He leads the way down the hall to the front door to his flat, trusting that Arthur will shut everything up behind him as they go.

Finally getting into his own flat, he holds the door for the American, pleased at least to see it's the time of the month when the moon streams in from the French doors.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur makes a face at his words, tone flat as he does follow and closes what he needs to behind them, "You really need to stop joking about food like that." Because, really. Arthur is going to eat the food, not play with it.

He then spares Bob a small glance, hesitating as his instincts dictate he not let anyone get behind him, but he does go in, quick to turn around and watch Bob from where he's standing (also trying to get a feel for anything else in the flat -- like if there is anyone else here).

It's a part of Arthur he can't separate from himself (even with someone like Bob or in a moment like this -- he's in someone else's territory and he doesn't know this space as easily as he would a well-lit hotel room and the instincts he learned from his previous profession do not leave him easily, if ever).

[eversohandsome]

"Why? Haven't you ever been used as a plate before?" Bob asks with a grin and throws his keys on the small table in his hallway. The grooves and scratches across the wood betrays how daily that routine is. He doesn't bother to toe his trainers off as he heads down the hall and towards the kitchen. If they're lucky he might still have a couple of beers hanging out in the fridge.

"I'll save the three-course meal for some other time, yeah?" He finally adds as he stops moving and waits for Arthur to emerge. He tends to expect everyone to make themselves at home in his flat.

"Make yourself at home," he calls out for a final time before he's opening up his fridge to find... an onion, butter and not much else. Though there are those two beers he was remembering in the side of the door.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur, being like he is, has ended up seeing an array of living environments (each of them different in their own way but, when he is able to think on it, each suitable to the person living there) and Bob's is not as neat as Arthur would probably prefer but it was "homey" in the direct sense of the term. The scratches on furniture and the wooden parts of the floor gave away how long the other man had been there - or at least that certain habits had made their mark - as did the stains in some spots that had tried to be cleaned out but didn't come out and the light coat of dust that Arthur could spot in some areas.

(Apparently Bob had lived here a while but wasn't always home all that often.)

He remained where he was standing, taking his Blackberry out and looking up the nearest pizza place and ordered what he preferred, calling out to Bob, "What do you want on yours?"

[eversohandsome]

Unaware of the mental process going on in Arthur's head, Bob appears a moment later with two open bottles of beer. He looks at Arthur's hands, cradling the phone, before back up into his face.

"Spicy beef, pepperoni, spicy pork too and..." he looks as though he's actually considering the question quite seriously, brows knitting together slightly in thought.

"Ham... just no sweetcorn, yeah? And no pineapple."

[littlspecificty]

Arthur blinks at him, not even looking at the beer, Blackberry still in his hands, "You... actually eat all of that together?"