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dreadnaughtfist
Pembe had had a series of unfortunate happenstances - that had ended up with him rather... homeless, and then taken in by a rather overlarge man. ... While there were several problems Pem could have really had with this arrangement, he'd done his best to take it all in stride. He was used to sudden change - it was how he'd lived his life up 'til now... though he'd hardly interacted with the other man other than polite introductions and a bit of idle chatter after convincing him that him staying there was better than a shelter. It'd only been a day or two since he'd... "moved in" (which was such a stretch of the phrase, considering the most he'd done was bring his clothes, camera, a small box of particularly random junk, and his cat... Assuming Potemkin had no problem with animals, of course. Gren was a fearless little scottish fold, as it were. As irresponsible as he felt moving around so much with a cat in tow, Gren seemed to bear it just fine. Pem generally didn't have much more than that to his name - he'd yet to actually find a job he could settle at, and freelancing had only encouraged his already natural drifter tendencies.)
Of course, Potemkin had... tried to get him to go to a shelter first, but as the cards had laid, it wasn't a particularly good option for Pembe. While he'd considered it, shelters were, for one thing, not a good place for cats (and in spite of it all, he was damn attached to his cat), and two, he was definitely not a fan. It'd taken a bit of convincing; Pembe had had to emphasize that while his things were meager, they were still expensive, and he was willing to assist as a housemate however he could in exchange for a place to stay where he wouldn't have to worry about having someone steal his camera... but he thought it'd gone well, considering that Potemkin had let him stay.
Though he'd promised to assist however he could with Potemkin's daily life... he did feel particularly useless at the moment. His current situation had him on a couch, with Gren bedding in the (now emptied, though it still hadn't had much) aforementioned box of junk. So, instead of giving in to the impulse to continue being useless, Pembe opted to take another option: start trying to do as he promised earlier. Potemkin would soon find himself hunted down by the big ball of pink that was Pembe - hair dye, glasses, and shirt making him... very pink. Pembe was large by most's standards, considering his height of 6'3", but Potemkin sort of outstripped him by leaps and bounds. It was a strange feeling - he rarely had to look up at people. But if he was going to room with Potemkin for long - which he was sort of hoping, given the area was fairly ideal - he'd have to get over it.
"Hey!" He greeted, throwing up a hand in a sort of wave when he caught Potemkin's attention. "I... uh, I was thinking I should get started on that whole business I offered earlier. Chores and all." He suppressed the urge to say he'd felt like a useless lump just because he hadn't started immediately, "You got laundry or... y'know, something I could help out with?" His smile was awkward - living in a house with someone you barely new was always destined to be awkward - but Pembe... was hoping he could at least get to know him, anyway.
Lord only knew if Potemkin's living style was clean and tidy or an utter mess... Judging from the man's bearing, Pem could've bet on either or.
Of course, Potemkin had... tried to get him to go to a shelter first, but as the cards had laid, it wasn't a particularly good option for Pembe. While he'd considered it, shelters were, for one thing, not a good place for cats (and in spite of it all, he was damn attached to his cat), and two, he was definitely not a fan. It'd taken a bit of convincing; Pembe had had to emphasize that while his things were meager, they were still expensive, and he was willing to assist as a housemate however he could in exchange for a place to stay where he wouldn't have to worry about having someone steal his camera... but he thought it'd gone well, considering that Potemkin had let him stay.
Though he'd promised to assist however he could with Potemkin's daily life... he did feel particularly useless at the moment. His current situation had him on a couch, with Gren bedding in the (now emptied, though it still hadn't had much) aforementioned box of junk. So, instead of giving in to the impulse to continue being useless, Pembe opted to take another option: start trying to do as he promised earlier. Potemkin would soon find himself hunted down by the big ball of pink that was Pembe - hair dye, glasses, and shirt making him... very pink. Pembe was large by most's standards, considering his height of 6'3", but Potemkin sort of outstripped him by leaps and bounds. It was a strange feeling - he rarely had to look up at people. But if he was going to room with Potemkin for long - which he was sort of hoping, given the area was fairly ideal - he'd have to get over it.
"Hey!" He greeted, throwing up a hand in a sort of wave when he caught Potemkin's attention. "I... uh, I was thinking I should get started on that whole business I offered earlier. Chores and all." He suppressed the urge to say he'd felt like a useless lump just because he hadn't started immediately, "You got laundry or... y'know, something I could help out with?" His smile was awkward - living in a house with someone you barely new was always destined to be awkward - but Pembe... was hoping he could at least get to know him, anyway.
Lord only knew if Potemkin's living style was clean and tidy or an utter mess... Judging from the man's bearing, Pem could've bet on either or.
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Articulating he wanted to make great use of every inch of Potemkin's body was, however, not an idea Pembe thought was a good one. Pembe chuckled, shrugging - "I guess..." He did consider it for a few more moments - unexpectedly shy to even take off his shirt, even though what was straining his pants was more of an issue - before chuckling and stripping off his own shirt.
He wasn't a perfect example of musculature - if you asked him, he'd cite periodic exercise and good genes. His arms were proportional yet thick; his shoulders, nicely broad, and his chest and pecs, pleasantly thick. His abs were not quite defined - softer, paunchier, somewhat overpowered by fat. But it came together well - at least, in Pembe's opinion. He was definitely - even if you somehow made one of similar proportions to the other - less muscular than Potemkin, however. He did have a soft coating of hair, however - light, but not unattractive.
He gently tossed his shirt in as well, doing his best to smile. "My stuff's back over where I set it all down - should probably get the rest of my laundry out." He huffed, attempting to break himself out of his awkwardness (and very, very fierce attraction), "Did you want to help out with getting it all washed? I mean... I can handle it, up until I'd need an iron..." He sounded a touch unsure - he wasn't that confident, really. Plus, he wasn't sure how well he could deal with. Shirtless Potemkin. For an extended period. It was already taking all of his strength to consider that without further considering it. Shirtless Potemkin was dangerous for Pembe's concentration.
(He was already making a point to either try and look at Potemkin's face, the hamper, or at the very least, not Potemkin's chest, for that purpose.)
He wasn't quite sure how bulky or annoying Potemkin's masses of cloth you might call 'clothing' could get after a good wash... He had the feeling they could be like bedsheets - either wonderfully easy and compressed... or awfully cumbersome to try and carry.
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"I'm sorry, I... forgot that these items are heavy. I'll take the hamper to where you need."
Potemkin bent over, firmly being able to hold both opposite sides of the basket in his two hands, and lifted the entire thing with no real strain at all. The weight wasn't nearly enough to test those muscles of his on display. Potemkin walked off down to hallway, to where Pembe was staying.
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"Hey, it's okay." He tried to sound reassuring, "I'm sure I could carry 'em if I tried hard enough. I just need to grab my stuff, too, and all..." He gave Potemkin's hand a gentle pat, "You're fine."
He took a few more seconds before drawing his hand back, face still red - even though his immediate urge to console the bigger man had taken over, once that had withdrawn, he was left touching the man he was finding he wanted to touch for a variety of reasons - the more he interacted with him, the more reasons his brain produced.
(The latest one that was definitely not motivated by pure emotions was 'consoling hug'. Pembe might have tried it, if he thought it was appropriate. And not likely to have him grab Potemkin's ass or linger too long.)
He ended up leading the way to where he was staying - which was basically just Potemkin's couch. If he hadn't previously owned one... well. He did now. (Pembe found the costs of a couch much less exorbitant than the costs of a bed.) A bedroom might've worked better, rather than occupying the living room-y area, but Potemkin's place wasn't exactly a two-bedroom... and the idea of sharing a bed with Potemkin, while appealing to Pembe, was something he understood was awkward. Pembe went for his clothes - albeit Gren was resting on top of them, curled up. He gently patted his cat, attempting to shoo the little guy - albeit Gren decided this was a prompt to climb directly onto Pembe.
A bit of hissing from Pembe (cat claws hurt) and he had a little cat curled up around his neck. Pembe looked to Potemkin and smiled, sheepishly, and shrugged. He didn't really know what to say - his cat was his cat, and Gren was fearless and prone to curling on people's shoulders like some sort of fluffy boa.
He was quick to bundle up his clothes and put them in the hamper, however - even with Gren on his shoulders, he was practiced at quickly pulling out hangars and settling them all in with the pile of Potemkin's clothing.
"Wanna lead the way to where you have your washer?" He gave the other man as good a smile as he could, considering tiny cat claws in his flesh (even though he'd grown used to them). He felt a bit sheepish, leaving Gren as he was, so he added on, with a chuckle: "I'll put Gren down before we start drying and ironing, so they don't get fresh cat hair on 'em."
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But he moved on, taking it as an acceptance of his apology nonetheless. The sight of the cat immediately started to melt Potemkin's heart again. He would have reached out to it and tried to gingerly pet it, with his massive hands, if both weren't currently occupied with holding the hamper.
"I don't mind if your cat follows us," Potemkin gave an understatement. They move together as three to small, functional laundry room (though the machines themselves looked very advanced and efficient, in preparation for how much cloth they needed to go through.) Potemkin dropped the hamper on the floor, which slightly bounced from the impact.
"If you don't need anything else, I should leave to give you room."
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(He could easily tell Potemkin was understating his feelings on Gren's presence.)
He let Potemkin lead the way, settling in the small room - it was just big enough for Potemkin to move freely, which meant that the two of them in it was a bit close. (And that Pembe couldn't quite avoid seeing Potemkin's chest anymore, so he focused on his face instead.)
"You don't have to leave," He offered, even though he was fairly confident it was a good solution, "I mean..." And there was a good excuse - "Gren could use someone to look after him while I start up the machine, and I wouldn't mind having someone to talk to while I do it..."
Trying to talk to Potemkin was hard, but he was fairly confident the little cat tucked around his neck was like catnip to the other man. Maybe Gren could help him loosen up a bit? Or at least find a common ground to talk about?
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Because of that he had more reasons to excuse himself than just letting Pembe do his job, but that argument shot him straight through his heart. He's going to trust that Pembe wants his company after all.
Potemkin sat himself cross-legged on the floor, the little bowl of his legs looking undersized compared to the rest of his body. But it was large enough to be an inviting bed for Gren, and Potemkin founds the cat crawling up, and soon on, to him. "I can do that," Potemkin affirms Pembe's idea as he dangles one of his fingers above Gren, for the cat to paw at. "So I take it you prefer some company to silence."
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It was a good thing Potemkin had stayed - if he'd insisted on leaving, Pembe would likely have felt worse for it. But he smiled at Potemkin's agreement, watching as Gren (with just a little bit of prompting from Pembe, to get him to move from his comfortable space on the man's neck) settled into Potemkin's lap.
"Yeah," He offered, chuckling. "I like having someone to talk to, at least." He started on pulling out clothes from the hamper, settling them into the machine. "You're the same, I hope? I mean, I don't wanna insist you hang out with me if you'd rather be alone." He looked back, offering an actual smile - focusing on Gren and Potemkin's face, now, and insistently shoving away those thirsty, thirsty thoughts so he could actually look at Potemkin without turning several shades of red or feeling the need to look at anything other than him.
Those thoughts could come later. Like when he was alone.
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But if I'm going to invite change into my life, then I should try out what's different," Potemkin took on a bit of gravity, even as he also smiled while playing with a cat. But why would he have agreed to this, if he did not care for Pembe's life? He was interested in what could come of this experience as they lived together.
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"If you want to play with him, you gotta rile him up a little bit." He reached in, movements careful but swift: he prodded Gren's cheek, and earned the cat wriggling onto his back to swat at the offending finger. Pembe danced his finger around for a few seconds, smiling at Gren's attempts to capture the clearly offensive digit, before gently booping Gren's nose and standing back up. "He'll only go chasing after your finger if you mess with him. He'll get a little bitey if you let him catch it, though..." He smiled, before turning back to loading the washer - just about finished loading it. Nicely, it seemed to be enough to put in as a single load; Pembe's clothes weren't quite enough to make him need two loads, considering the size of the washer.
Given, Pembe also made a point to compact down the clothes - he didn't believe in "overfilling" a washer - and all, but it was still a pretty nice fit. In his opinion.
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That's a sign that they communicating better, right? Potemkin takes that as a good thing and let's both of them turn back to their respective businesses.
"Thank you. I wouldn't be very good at taking care of Gren if I continued failing to get his attention."
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"Heh, he'll probably be okay either way - laps keep him just as preoccupied as playing." He looked back, chuckling - "It just seemed like you wanted to play with him." He finished up loading the washer - reaching over and hunting for detergent in whatever storage spaces were nearby. It was sort of necessary before he called it finished.
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He got over his shock soon though, and Potemkin watched Pembe's hand move across the cabinets. It's a sparse laundry room, and Pembe would have found everything he needed just with time and groping, but Potemkin couldn't hold back his need to help out for long, even when watching the man who was supposed to do his chores in front of him. Or perhaps because.
"I keep the soap to the up and right," Potemkin referred to the position Pembe's hand was currently at.
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Expression was only one way you showed what you wanted. Pembe focused more on actions rather than words or faces. It worked in his favor.
He blinked at Potemkin's correction - leaning forward on the washer and leaning up a bit more and grabbing for the soap. He was fishing a bit blind - he couldn't quite see the shelf Potemkin referred to - but he chuckled as he went fishing for it (and, if Potemkin didn't decide to help, he'd get it after a minute or so).
"Ah, there it is. Thanks, didn't think it'd be hard to find, but I wasn't looking forward to searching those top shelves..."