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pikechris · 1 year

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people are sometimes surprised when I say that I actually like my job in a service station deli. well first of all this is ireland, 98% of customer interactions are polite and pleasant and the worst thing that can happen to me personally is when we get a bus full of teenagers who want chicken fillet rolls. or even worse, two in one day. happened this tuesday. but also i've found that it's actually perfect for my autism/adhd brain because:

I do the same things every day. there are tasks that have to be done every day and tasks that have to be done every week on a specific day. perfect. it's the thing others complain about the most, but me? just how I prefer it

constantly moving and doing something is what keeps me stimulated and staves off boredom aka the worst feeling ever. it gets pretty busy sometimes, which, ideal! I haven't had to touch a stim toy for MONTHS because I put all that excess energy to violently scrubbing dishes

I'm honestly the perfect employee because when I happen to have nothing to do I look for things to clean and tidy and shit and if that doesn't help I ask the manager for extra tasks to keep those hands occupied lol

re: previous point. I'm Fast so I always do everything that needs to be done, too. mostly because my brain takes the rules seriously and when the paperwork says I have to do something. well then I'll bloody well do it won't I. it says it right there. they like me because they know I'm reliable unlike the students who do weekends and even exceed expectations sometimes hah

clear instructions, love em. here I always know what to do and how to do it

the customer interactions follow a similar pattern and are almost always the same so I know what to say and ask and it's not stressful

sometimes people ask me where to find things and such and I Iove a) knowing things and being somebody who knows them and b) telling people about something I know, so it doesn't bother me

there's a whole bunch of safety compliance paperwork tasks like taking temperatures of food every hour that everyone finds annoying. but I love numbers and measuring things and statistics!! it's like ooh I wonder what's the temperature of this soup?? and then I stick a probe in there and find out and write it down! neat. tracking how quickly things cool down in the hot counter is entertaining

there's always 50 things to do at once. I will start 10 at a time. it works out fine. I can check the task list to see if I did it and tick it off. adhd kept in check ✓

others repeat the customers' orders to them to make sure they're getting it right so when I do it because echolalia & needing it to process the information, it goes unnoticed!!

I hate silence so the constant noise of the ovens and the radio and such are a good background noise. plus no one minds when I sing along to the radio as a stim because everyone does it, which is also why I feel safe enough to do so in the first place

no seriously doing stuff gives me energy, so I'm not tired after an 8.5 hour shift (this is even an observation others have made) and still can do the shopping, cook dinner, cook lunch for next day and be busy until midnight. something I couldn't do when studying, which was an energy drainer. huh

(I haven't had this much energy and motivation to do things since I was a CHILD. I'm not joking. I also haven't had a shutdown or anxiety attack or even a bad day in ages since I moved and started working. lying in bed depressed and feeling like I can't breathe? don't know her. also I can actually fall asleep immediately. my brain just shuts down. a feeling I haven't known for years. what is this magic)

I get to put things in the oven and make pizzas and bread and scones from scratch and generally do things I like and am good at and get paid for it! fuck yeah baking!!

I get to clean and put things in order and organise stock and the cold room and freezers and implement Systems and make things Full and GET PAID FOR IT

regular shifts 10-18, perfect, I don't have to get up too early either. allows for going to sleep at midnight and still getting the sweet eight hours

everybody is kind of doing their own thing most of the time and we're all busy so I'm not required to talk to my coworkers if I don't want to. but I can if I do. we all get along well. also good

sometimes I have an issue remembering how many fillings I put in that person's wrap if I wasn't paying that much attention but it's fine, if I charge them 40c less no one will know. there is no failing and no points deducted for a wrong answer. it's chill, no anxiety induced

I'm mostly on my own from 11:30ish until the end, the deli is my kingdom, I make the decisions, no one is in the way, I like it. I like it less when it's busy but I'm capable of handling it either way so eh *shrug*

i have a very good memory (when I do pay attention) so when there are regulars who order the same one or two things I remember them fast and now it's like. white wrap, peppers and plain chicken? and they're like. yeah!! :) I get to make someone happy with something so simple :)

sometimes people eat truly bizarre sandwiches and stuff and I get to internally laugh and/or wonder what the fuck is that. sometimes we actually do laugh about it after. it's fun

I'm also apparently the best new person they've ever had in this shop because I learn extremely fast so that's nice to hear lmao

i easily follow safety regulations such as wearing gloves at all times because dirty dishes and wet bits of food in the sink and raw meat and greasy utensils and sticky bread dough and the inside of the oven mitts are yucky to touch so that's another win-win for them and me

if not the company owner then at least the shop and deli managers are amazing. they will tell you to take any wastage you want without paying for it (because that is a stupid rule that exists that everyone thinks is nonsense and ignores. what's the difference if an out of date bag of crisps goes in the bin or is eaten?) just don't tell the boss, and will go out for drinks with you, and act like normal human beings who are a delight to work with

as a christmas bonus we all got a €50 one4all gift card which everyone thought was sort of shite and useless but are you kidding me? that means a free coffee machine. I got a free coffee machine with it. and a big discount on noise-cancelling wireless earbuds that are actually good and have a long battery life. amazing I'm telling you

yes we get the minimum wage but as someone who never worked or had much money I can live so well off of it? i can comfortably pay for rent and electricity and two grocery shoppings a week that aren't cheap, put a bunch aside, buy some treats online when I feel like it, go places every other week, and still have enough left. I flew to london in december just because. spent £130 on a concert ticket to the o2. I visit places that are a bit further away and stay a night or two once a month. I feel like I eat like a king when I have stuff like homemade bread with avocado spread, homemade cake, fresh strawberries and stuff for breakfast all the time. and that's just for cleaning and making sandwiches?? it sometimes feels unreal to me that I do it for money at all. it's like. housework. things I do anyway all the time at home. I have no reason to complain lol

anyway this is just how I personally feel :') but yeah I like working? who'd have thought. not me. I also feel like I'm the only one there who does. or anywhere really. because I'm so used to retail and service jobs being connected with annoyance and hate and doing them out of necessity etc etc... so I wanted to share that little bit of positive experience I guess. and needed to rant about it somewhere.

is it weird that working 42 hours a week in a shop improved my mental health? probably. but I also get it and can't believe I didn't figure it out earlier because. it's the moving lads. I'm in a constant state of busy. once I stop doing things and start lying in bed all day it goes downhill and the energy and motivation don't come back. but now? that's impossible. even on weekends. I can't put off the ironing because I need the uniform. I have to cook because I can't live on cheese toasties and the veg in the fridge is gonna go off if I don't use it. I have to travel because there's nothing to do in town except lying in bed all day. and once I make a Plan, not even the rain or having to get up at 6:30 to catch the morning bus stops me from following it. and I don't mean that in a stressful grind culture way, I mean it in a helpful actually-it's-pretty-slow-and-quiet way! I found a way of hacking the executive dysfunction completely by accident here and. it's a job

#personal #sofi.txt #ireland #neurodiversity #autism #adhd #audhd #note: I don't mind noises but i do have issues with auditory processing in loud places #so sometimes i do have to ask them to repeat the order because i heard shit #but it's fine #i copied the polite sentence patterns of my co-workers hah #it's fine it's fine it's me practising small talk and interacting with neurotypicals and '''fitting in'''#and about exceeding expectations just today i came into a bit of chaos bc my regular shift partner wasn't there #and what needs to be done every day is the tray up in the freezer where we prep rolls pastries fillets etc for the next day #someone has to be out front when that's done #and the managers were in the deli today totally ready to do other things as soon as i came in #and leave me to it #i said i'd do the tray up first #they were like. ok... you can #it's a trolley with 8 trays #i did it in 9 minutes #that's normal. that it takes me 10 or so minutes #but when i came back they were staring like. you aren't DONE are you?#i was like. yeah? i said i'd be quick #i love interactions like that lol. i can still surprise people by being good at my job #(one tray is for example 18 chicken fillets of 3 flavours that come in 3 bags which i have to pull them out of 2 at a time)#(or a selection of scones and pastries stored chaotically in bags on top of each other because there's no space)

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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !