FIC: Everyday Objects, PG-12
Everyday Objects
By Emerald Embers
Louise_cmi_vc@hotmail.com
Rated PG-12 for some mild violence, yaoi, and bad language
Fandom: Lost Souls
Pairing: Steve/Ghost
Non-profit fanfiction, please don’t sue.
Notes: Crack. Oh, so much crack. I apologise for any possible OOCness.
Life could be hard for a bathtub.
You were brought into the world for one purpose - service - and had no saay in how you were used.
Dave hadn’t even had a proper name until recently; first he (at least, he felt like a he after spending the first two years of his life in a male dormitory) had been Model M2TWFEF, then ‘The Bath’ or, on occasion, ‘That Bath’. The dormitory hadn’t been too bad - compared with horror stories of girls with their hair dye and clogged pipes, the boys he roomed with seemed quite pleasant. Hell, most of them still opted to vomit in the toilet or sink no matter what state of intoxication they reached.
However, fate being a cruel and harsh thing, life was not to remain so undemanding. No point in denying it - when the dormitory was converted into a set of flats, the years ahead were painful to recall.
Abuse piled on abuse across the years; a DIY obsessive, endless tins of paint and jars of white spirit staining Dave’s once pristine finish. The pretty model who thought a bathroom the perfect home for her pet snake. The especially unpleasant man who kept storing people that had stopped breathing, which particularly distressed Dave as he had long since realised people were far more entertaining and considerably sweeter-scented when they breathed.
That catalogue of cruelty came to an end with a last, swift violation as people in white coats and people in blue jackets worked together to scour him clean of evidence before abandoning him, alone, for so long he feared he would only ever learn of the outside world again if someone threw a brick through the bathroom window. More men in coats came at last, this time to wrench him from the wall and carry him out of the flat; it seemed a far cry from when he first came to the building, lifted gently and fitted with precision. So, this was death. He said goodbye to the sink and the toilet, and allowed himself to be taken to the junkyard to languish. It seemed this was the end.
Fortune smiles rarely, but beautifully when she does. The day was painfully hot, chips of paint exposed by scoured surfaces peeling in the sun, when she opted to smile on him in the form of a very strange young man. He had to be strange, because the only time someone had ever gravitated towards Dave for conversation they had been under the influence of an acid tab. “Are you alright?”
Dave lacked the means to blink or respond, so lay still and just thought very hard.
“I’m taking you home. Don’t tell anyone where I found you.”
Dave continued lacking the means to blink or respond and thought hard some more.
“No one’s given you a name, have they? You look like a Steve or a Dave to me.” The young man went a funny shade of pink before shaking his head. “But I already have a friend called Steve, and he wouldn’t like the idea of me taking baths in him, so you’re Dave.”
Dave decided he liked his name and thought hard.
“I’m Ghost. Pleased to meet you!”
Being moved into the pale boy’s house was a blessing Dave had never expected to receive. Everything in that bathroom had a pleasant temper except one or two of the newer towels, and they usually started behaving after a few accidental splashes from himself and Sue, the sink. It was a perfect life, and the boy treated everyone there with respect, thanking Dave and the dark towels whenever he dyed his hair, making sure to keep everyone healthily clean but not obsessively so. You could not ask for a better owner.
Being a bathtub made responding difficult, but Dave always attempted to think very hard - and, if he needed to emphasise a point, gurgle - when questions were posed to him by Ghost. It was the least he could do, especially given that his opinions were actually respected.
“Now, Dave,” Ghost asked, looking very serious in that particular way humans looked when they weren’t actually being serious at all. “As it is Steve’s birthday today, I was thinking of having a bath in rose oil, but do you think that would be too obvious?”
Dave had to agree, but he had an idea, and tried to think in the direction of Ghost’s other scented oils.
“You know, disguising it would be a good idea.” The pale haired boy walked over to the shelf and read over the various labels quickly before picking up two of the bottles. “Lemongrass?”
Dave disagreed very strongly, and gurgled.
“I know the smells clash, I just thought it might cover up the rose. Geranium?”
Mutual agreement this time, and Ghost thanked Dave before twisting his taps, causing the bath to feel both a little embarrassed and decidedly blissful. There wasn’t anything to compare with the feel of a good, long gurgle of hot water through one’s piping, and if there was, he didn’t want to know about it.
“Shh!”
Dave woke from a pleasant snooze to see Ghost stumble in through the bathroom door, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, followed shortly after by another boy, this one with dark and messy hair. Both of them were plastered in mud. “Why shh?” Asked the dark-haired boy.
Ghost wrenched Dave’s taps on, stroked them in clumsy apology afterwards before getting in, still fully clothed. “I don’t know,” he replied, giggling.
Dave thought hard in disapproval, and again noted his inability to blink when the second boy climbed in. Being a medium-sized bath, he could not offer much room, and the resulting squeeze of wet-clothed boys was a little uncomfortable to watch. They didn’t seem to mind too much, limbs sticking out at odd angles as they attempted to wash off the mud. “Will you turn the heat up? It’s fucking freezing down my end.”
Ghost grinned and turned off the cold tap before making a feeble attempt to swirl the water with his hands, so Dave assisted in distributing the water’s heat as best as possible. Doing so made him aware there were traces of something a little more worrying than mud in the water, from both boys, and he thought hard some more at Ghost. “None of your business,” Whispered the pale-haired boy before peeling off his soaked through shirt and tossing it into the sink.
“What’s not?” Asked the dark-haired boy, looking confused but also distinctly as if he suspected the answer might bother him more than silence.
“It’s just the bath,” Ghost replied, stroking one hand along Dave’s rim. “Most things have souls, but this one is a gossip.”
The dark-haired boy seemed more disconcerted by the minute. “I’m not getting my cock out in a possessed bath. What if it tries to bite it off or something?”
For all the other boy’s concerns, he didn’t complain much when Ghost’s hands slid under his own shirt, sliding it off to join its partner in crime in the sink. “Dave has much better manners than that.”
“You named the - fuck it, it’s not worth the effort. You swear he won’t bite anything off?”
Dave thought very hard and particularly fiercely.
“I promise, but I think - oh! Oh crap!” Ghost turned off the hot tap, looked over the side of the bath to observe the wreckage. Thankfully, the floor didn’t seem too soaked through. “I don’t think Dave approves of you yet, Steve. You’ll have to be on your best behaviour while having your wicked way.”
Dave gurgled, exasperated, and wished he had eyes to close. Still, at least Steve seemed to make Ghost happy.
And proceeded to make Ghost a little bit happier.
And then happier than that.
Dave looked to Sue who felt quite put out at the whole process of being used as a clothing dumping ground, and she sent back comforting thoughts with the consolation that he wasn’t the first bath to receive this particular form of christening from the dark-haired boy.
It was going to be a long week.
- The End
By Emerald Embers
Louise_cmi_vc@hotmail.com
Rated PG-12 for some mild violence, yaoi, and bad language
Fandom: Lost Souls
Pairing: Steve/Ghost
Non-profit fanfiction, please don’t sue.
Notes: Crack. Oh, so much crack. I apologise for any possible OOCness.
Life could be hard for a bathtub.
You were brought into the world for one purpose - service - and had no saay in how you were used.
Dave hadn’t even had a proper name until recently; first he (at least, he felt like a he after spending the first two years of his life in a male dormitory) had been Model M2TWFEF, then ‘The Bath’ or, on occasion, ‘That Bath’. The dormitory hadn’t been too bad - compared with horror stories of girls with their hair dye and clogged pipes, the boys he roomed with seemed quite pleasant. Hell, most of them still opted to vomit in the toilet or sink no matter what state of intoxication they reached.
However, fate being a cruel and harsh thing, life was not to remain so undemanding. No point in denying it - when the dormitory was converted into a set of flats, the years ahead were painful to recall.
Abuse piled on abuse across the years; a DIY obsessive, endless tins of paint and jars of white spirit staining Dave’s once pristine finish. The pretty model who thought a bathroom the perfect home for her pet snake. The especially unpleasant man who kept storing people that had stopped breathing, which particularly distressed Dave as he had long since realised people were far more entertaining and considerably sweeter-scented when they breathed.
That catalogue of cruelty came to an end with a last, swift violation as people in white coats and people in blue jackets worked together to scour him clean of evidence before abandoning him, alone, for so long he feared he would only ever learn of the outside world again if someone threw a brick through the bathroom window. More men in coats came at last, this time to wrench him from the wall and carry him out of the flat; it seemed a far cry from when he first came to the building, lifted gently and fitted with precision. So, this was death. He said goodbye to the sink and the toilet, and allowed himself to be taken to the junkyard to languish. It seemed this was the end.
Fortune smiles rarely, but beautifully when she does. The day was painfully hot, chips of paint exposed by scoured surfaces peeling in the sun, when she opted to smile on him in the form of a very strange young man. He had to be strange, because the only time someone had ever gravitated towards Dave for conversation they had been under the influence of an acid tab. “Are you alright?”
Dave lacked the means to blink or respond, so lay still and just thought very hard.
“I’m taking you home. Don’t tell anyone where I found you.”
Dave continued lacking the means to blink or respond and thought hard some more.
“No one’s given you a name, have they? You look like a Steve or a Dave to me.” The young man went a funny shade of pink before shaking his head. “But I already have a friend called Steve, and he wouldn’t like the idea of me taking baths in him, so you’re Dave.”
Dave decided he liked his name and thought hard.
“I’m Ghost. Pleased to meet you!”
Being moved into the pale boy’s house was a blessing Dave had never expected to receive. Everything in that bathroom had a pleasant temper except one or two of the newer towels, and they usually started behaving after a few accidental splashes from himself and Sue, the sink. It was a perfect life, and the boy treated everyone there with respect, thanking Dave and the dark towels whenever he dyed his hair, making sure to keep everyone healthily clean but not obsessively so. You could not ask for a better owner.
Being a bathtub made responding difficult, but Dave always attempted to think very hard - and, if he needed to emphasise a point, gurgle - when questions were posed to him by Ghost. It was the least he could do, especially given that his opinions were actually respected.
“Now, Dave,” Ghost asked, looking very serious in that particular way humans looked when they weren’t actually being serious at all. “As it is Steve’s birthday today, I was thinking of having a bath in rose oil, but do you think that would be too obvious?”
Dave had to agree, but he had an idea, and tried to think in the direction of Ghost’s other scented oils.
“You know, disguising it would be a good idea.” The pale haired boy walked over to the shelf and read over the various labels quickly before picking up two of the bottles. “Lemongrass?”
Dave disagreed very strongly, and gurgled.
“I know the smells clash, I just thought it might cover up the rose. Geranium?”
Mutual agreement this time, and Ghost thanked Dave before twisting his taps, causing the bath to feel both a little embarrassed and decidedly blissful. There wasn’t anything to compare with the feel of a good, long gurgle of hot water through one’s piping, and if there was, he didn’t want to know about it.
“Shh!”
Dave woke from a pleasant snooze to see Ghost stumble in through the bathroom door, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, followed shortly after by another boy, this one with dark and messy hair. Both of them were plastered in mud. “Why shh?” Asked the dark-haired boy.
Ghost wrenched Dave’s taps on, stroked them in clumsy apology afterwards before getting in, still fully clothed. “I don’t know,” he replied, giggling.
Dave thought hard in disapproval, and again noted his inability to blink when the second boy climbed in. Being a medium-sized bath, he could not offer much room, and the resulting squeeze of wet-clothed boys was a little uncomfortable to watch. They didn’t seem to mind too much, limbs sticking out at odd angles as they attempted to wash off the mud. “Will you turn the heat up? It’s fucking freezing down my end.”
Ghost grinned and turned off the cold tap before making a feeble attempt to swirl the water with his hands, so Dave assisted in distributing the water’s heat as best as possible. Doing so made him aware there were traces of something a little more worrying than mud in the water, from both boys, and he thought hard some more at Ghost. “None of your business,” Whispered the pale-haired boy before peeling off his soaked through shirt and tossing it into the sink.
“What’s not?” Asked the dark-haired boy, looking confused but also distinctly as if he suspected the answer might bother him more than silence.
“It’s just the bath,” Ghost replied, stroking one hand along Dave’s rim. “Most things have souls, but this one is a gossip.”
The dark-haired boy seemed more disconcerted by the minute. “I’m not getting my cock out in a possessed bath. What if it tries to bite it off or something?”
For all the other boy’s concerns, he didn’t complain much when Ghost’s hands slid under his own shirt, sliding it off to join its partner in crime in the sink. “Dave has much better manners than that.”
“You named the - fuck it, it’s not worth the effort. You swear he won’t bite anything off?”
Dave thought very hard and particularly fiercely.
“I promise, but I think - oh! Oh crap!” Ghost turned off the hot tap, looked over the side of the bath to observe the wreckage. Thankfully, the floor didn’t seem too soaked through. “I don’t think Dave approves of you yet, Steve. You’ll have to be on your best behaviour while having your wicked way.”
Dave gurgled, exasperated, and wished he had eyes to close. Still, at least Steve seemed to make Ghost happy.
And proceeded to make Ghost a little bit happier.
And then happier than that.
Dave looked to Sue who felt quite put out at the whole process of being used as a clothing dumping ground, and she sent back comforting thoughts with the consolation that he wasn’t the first bath to receive this particular form of christening from the dark-haired boy.
It was going to be a long week.
- The End