As of this morning I was reluctantly looking for jobs because I love my job and don't want to leave it, but see: $10k raise problem solver.

As of noon today this was no longer an issue, because my boss called me with the news that I was getting a $10K merit raise.

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. This is roughly $200 extra per paycheck. Enough to pay off debt faster, rebuild my savings, and spend a weekend a month in Milwaukee getting obscenely laid. The sex I'm going to have on $200 extra per paycheck. You can't even.

DJO in Miami, night two, 7/7/26

for @corrodedcoffinfest day 8 prompt 'where's the beef?'

rated t | 659 words | cw: recreational drug use | tags: established steddie, good babysitter steve, everyone's high

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“Beef and Jeff are close.”

Jeff giggles. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Gareth giggles, too. “Like. Your names.”

“Beef isn’t a name,” Frankie says, but his words slur a bit. “Maybe Jeff isn’t even a name.”

“Where’s beef?” Eddie asks. No one answers. “Where’s the beef?!”

They’re so crossfaded. Jeff only had one beer because he knew Eddie was bringing the good weed, but he’s still pretty out of it. Eddie’s somehow the worst of them all.

Steve is their babysitter, or at least that’s what he told them when he took one hit from the joint and then sat on Eddie’s bed like it was his. All of them are spread out on the floor, and Steve’s eyes are on them, but he doesn’t say much.

“You’re all a mess,” he finally says. “Everyone needs water.”

“But Steve.” Eddie sits up and stares at him seriously. “Where is the beef?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “The freezer. Next to the chicken.”

“Can we have the beef?” Gareth sits up and asks. He pouts at Steve, and Jeff already knows it’s gonna work. Steve’s got a soft spot for him, and it’s somehow even bigger than the one Eddie has for him. “In cooked beef form.”

“You mean a burger?” Steve asks.

Jeff thinks he has the patience of a saint. He’s high as shit, but even he knows they aren’t making any fucking sense.

“Do I mean that?” Gareth turns to Eddie, blinking slowly. “Burgers sound good. Burgers are beef. Cooked beef.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. Steve shakes his head and gets up from the bed. “Where you going?”

“To make you burgers. Or try to since the meat is frozen.”

“Cooking it makes it unfrozen,” Frankie says with a sigh. “Even I know that.”

Jeff decides that he’s probably the closest to sober out of all of them, so he stands to try to help Steve. Not that Steve needs it. But maybe he’ll like having company.

He only stumbles a little before he straightens and follows Steve out of the room. No one even notices him leaving.

Steve’s running the hot water in the sink when he makes it there, leaning over the counter and yawning.

“You don’t have to do that. They’ll forget about this in the next five minutes,” Jeff says as he leans on the other side of the counter. “If they haven’t already.”

“It’s fine. I could eat anyway.”

“Why do you take care of us all?”

Steve looks up at him and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“We do this once a week and you always stick around to keep an eye on us. Even when Gareth and Eddie do too much. Why?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth turns up for a moment before he looks back down.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you guys.”

“But we’re fine. You could tell us to fuck off. We could take turns.”

Steve shuts off the water and holds up the package of beef. “None of you know how to make burgers.”

“But we—“

“Jeff, dude. I like taking care of people I care about, okay?” Steve sighs.

“You care about all of us?” Jeff isn’t an idiot. He knows Steve obviously cares a lot about Eddie, and clearly cares quite a bit about Gareth because Eddie does, but all of them?

“I wouldn’t stick around if I didn’t.” Steve starts to separate the meat, more than half of it going into a mixing bowl and the other going into a much smaller bowl. “Do you actually wanna help or just try to convince me not to babysit?”

“Why do you have some separate?” Jeff asks as he walks around the counter and waits for instructions.

“Frankie doesn’t like the spices I usually use. So I just put salt and pepper in his.”

Damn. Steve’s a good guy. A real good guy.