PSL for dreadnaughtfist

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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.

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Pembe was usually pretty good at hiding his attraction - it was the sheer impressive nature of Potemkin's muscles (and his entire body, really) that had seized Pembe's faculties. Even considering that he knew he wasn't doing a good job, he had had a hard time looking away. When he was given an opportunity to not look at Potemkin and focus on loading in the clothing... he managed to calm himself considerably.

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.

[dreadnaughtfist]

"I don't mind solitude," Potemkin said while wholly focused on trying to get Gren to play with his finger (he was unsuccessful initially, but it's his hope that this could change with persistence. Gren didn't seem interested enough the the dangling digit to give up a comfortable resting spot). "It's how I spent most of my time.

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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Pembe chuckled at Potemkin's comment - and his dedication to Gren. He nodded at Potemkin's assertion - smiling a bit, inexplicably touched. "I couldn't agree more. Trying out new stuff's how we grow, and all." He finished loading the clothes he'd already grabbed, before turning around - squatting down, now closer to eye-level with Potemkin.

"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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Potemkin looks up from staring at his own lap, to meet Pembe's face right in front of him. When Potemkin is sitting down like this, the two are eye level for the first time. It's only for a brief moment before Pembe returns to the laundry machines, but the shock lingers with Potemkin.

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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If Pembe noticed Potemkin's shock, he kept it to himself - when their eyes met, he offered Potemkin a smile before standing back up and going back to his work. It probably meant they were communicating better. He hoped so, anyway.

"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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Potemkin looked up to that commented dumbfounded. It was as if he had been caught at something. To think he thought he left no outward clue, and then Pembe cut to the truth casually like Potemkin had erected nothing.

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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In another life, Pembe was excellent at that kind of cutting through to the truth. And albeit he recognized the dumbfoundedness on Potemkin's face, he chuckled a little bit, turning back. Even if Potemkin was convinced he left no clue, he'd noticed the little things Potemkin didn't think to hide.

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..."