armslength, o

SIMPLY ARTICULATE, A PRISON OF PASSION

strike the lighter
let my fire rekindle
songs in my head waiting
to form stanzas
this may be the death of me
but i'll take my chances

“Singh! My little songbird~!”

Accompanied by a cheerful hum, the door slammed open, rattling loose scientific accoutrements on their shelves. One polished dress shoe t a perfect perpendicular to his lean form, Elbricht shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped his leg from kicking the door open. With a warm, brilliantly white smile plastered onto his face, he waltzed in almost quietly and lounged against the window-side counter. White lab coat swishing around his ankles and perpetual bedhead of spun gold, he looked positively angelic in the afternoon light.

“Let’s go drinking,” he said.

And by said, it is safe to assume he told. Childish as those periwinkle eyes were, there was a firmness in them that stomped its foot and said he would not take no for an answer. Of course, there could always be a talking down or a backing out, but it would drag its feet and pout and do a large amount of rationalizing right back. At least he looked innocent enough, never once dropping his kind smile even as he leaned own and picked up the room’s resident pet.

“Even your little duck thinks you should get out more, right pretty bird?”

SIMPLY ARTICULATE, A PRISON OF PASSION

strike the lighter
let my fire rekindle
songs in my head waiting
to form stanzas
this may be the death of me
but i'll take my chances

@dhian

People had turned him down on drinking and clubbing and various other leisure activities before, but it never made much sense to Elbricht. He wanted to go out, work be damned, so why didn’t you? By now, at least, he had learned to mask the confusion that stitched his eyebrows together and sewed his lips into a frown, and his expression changed very little. In fact, he hardly spared the other man a glance at his initial refusal, staring instead rather intently at the duck he held at arm’s length in front of him. Absence of an evident response is now, however, evidence of the absence of a response.

Letting Eleanor down carefully after a moment, Elbricht patted the creature on the head and lolled his own backwards, sunlight washing over his features. His shoulders dropped as he let out a noisy sigh, and he stood with the flaccid motion of a wilting plant. When he approached the desk, however, he displayed less than half that lackadaisy. He slammed one hand down without warning, palm splayed out over the mess of papers on the desk.

“Such a workaholic!” he exhaled, pouting as he leaned his face in towards the other man. “The kids can wait; that red pen’s just going to send them to the counselor’s office anyway. Why induce stress when you can release it?” His smile turned imploring, and he slid to his knees, gangly form half laying across Dhian’s work. “So…want to go to the bar with me? I promise you’ll get to work tomorrow with absolutely no repercussions to your health. I’m a doctor—trust me! You’ll be hangover free.”

SIMPLY ARTICULATE, A PRISON OF PASSION

strike the lighter
let my fire rekindle
songs in my head waiting
to form stanzas
this may be the death of me
but i'll take my chances

@dhian

“Fabulous!” Beaming, Elbricht straightened immediately to his feet and raked his free hand through the tousled curls falling into his eyes. “Bring the duck, if you want. I’ll be waiting in the parking lot.”

Surely, somewhere he recognized this was coercion. But that somewhere was a far off place with a voice like a Who floating by on that speck. As Elbricht ducked out the door of the biology classroom, it didn’t matter whether Dhian had really wanted to come with him or not. What mattered was that he had company, and he felt like he was doing the other man a favor. Of course he was! Who would honestly want to stay cooped up inside with all of that work, even if they knew they were responsible for getting it done? He didn’t.

That was why he was always dressed for a party. Molting his lab coat like a bird preening its feathers, he revealed fine, baby blue fabric wrapped enticingly around a willowy torso. Not the most intimidating physique, but he did aim to be stylish at all times, accessorizing with a rather posh wristwatch that had been the gift of a…favorite client of his some time ago. With his coat folded over the crook of his arm, he tugged sharply at the cuffs of his dress shirt and smiled faintly at the memory wrapped around his wrist. By the time he folded his frame down into the shiny black comfort of his car’s leather interior, one hand was already at his throat to loosen the yellow and green striped tie noosed about him.

SIMPLY ARTICULATE, A PRISON OF PASSION

strike the lighter
let my fire rekindle
songs in my head waiting
to form stanzas
this may be the death of me
but i'll take my chances

@dhian

Dhian was going to be in for the night of his life. Or so Elbricht convinced himself. It was likely that he’d get to the bar, start flirting, start drinking, and soon enough start forgetting. Already he had forgotten that the other man was married, blinking bewilderedly at the foreign band on his finger before the realization settled in with a heavy sigh in his chest.

Well, there go any hopes for a decent wingman, he lamented, his eyes next falling on the duck waddling up to the car.

“House-trained, yes?” he inquired with a vague hand gesture in her direction. “Lay down a towel or something in the backseat and she can chill there.” Once his passengers were settled in, however they might, the blonde shut his door, a goofy grin splayed out on his face. “Buckle up and hold on tight, lady duck and gent.”

Laundry hangars in cars, affectionately known as “oh shit” handles, were made just for the type of driving Elbricht personified. Everything for the thrill—that was why he loved this car. It was so shiny, so sleek, and it went—so—fast! The only boon was that he kept reasonably near the speed limit in more populated areas and when traffic got bad, though then he alternated between impatiently revving the gas or tapping the window and trying to make small talk.

“What was that test even on, for the kids?”