#stancom

Do you mind if I steal your heart?


Is it something sacred?


More than you tried to make it

I asked for prompts, like, forever ago, and I just finally got around to finishing this. I’m using the last one: “Stancom; showering together for time/innocent reasons but ooooof somebody (both bodies) are hot whoops.”

Thanks for sending this to me, Jack. I really hope you like it, ily.

Pairing: Stan Uris/Ben Hanscom, very lightly implied ot7Rating: extremely soft MWord count: 1,384

Living in a three bedroom apartment with seven people would be hard even if they didn’t have to share one bathroom.

It didn’t work, at first. Eddie spent too long cleaning behind his ears and under his nails, and Richie spent too long standing under the shower spray with his music blaring. Mike spent too long bent over the sink trimming up his beard, and Bev spent too long painting her toenails, foot propped up on the counter.

But it’s been months now, and they’ve fixed it, for the most part. They’ve developed a sort of rhythm. Eddie wakes up the earliest for his morning runs, and Stan takes a quick shower while he’s out, careful to leave enough hot water for him when he returns. Mike comes home and showers on his lunch break, Bill showers when he gets home in the afternoons, and Bev and Richie shower at night. Ben works around the rest of them. Someone’s schedule invariably gets knocked askew almost every day, and so Ben showers whenever he can find the time, like when Bill’s classes run late in the afternoons, or when Richie’s too interested in his PS4 to worry about a thing like hot water.

It’s as chaotic as it sounds, and it stresses Stan out if he thinks about it for too long, but for the most part, it works.

Except today.

Today, Ben has an internship interview. It’s for some big architectural company downtown with a long fancy name that Stan can’t remember. All he knows is that it’s important, and Ben really wants to make a good impression. He’s pulling out all the stops - his good shirt, his lucky tie, his pine-smelling beard oil, the expensive product Bev bought him to make his hair do that swoopy thing they all like.

He was going to take a shower the night before, but they all insisted he should do it the morning of. A fresh start to the day. A few minutes of hot, steamy peace to prepare for his big interview.

But Stan didn’t once consider this possibility, that Ben’s morning bathroom time might coincide with his.

Stan is particular about his schedule. They all know it. Of all the people that could be wheedled into showering another time, he’s not the one. He showers from precisely 6:02 to 6:18 every morning, without fail.

But now it’s 6:01 and instead of undressing he’s staring at Ben, who is standing shirtless in front of the shower, hand outstretched to test the temperature, looking a little bit like Stan walked in on him doing something particularly naughty.

To be fair, it’s not like Ben really knew. Sure, they all know he gets up early, but no one is ever awake this early aside from Eddie, who won’t be back from his run for another half hour. Stan hasn’t written his designated shower time down on the grocery list pinned to the fridge or the chore sheet tacked to the pantry. Ben isn’t betraying him or anything so dramatic, it’s just… Stan’s supposed to be the one showering now, not him.

He’ll sound like a brat if he says that, though, so he shifts uncomfortably in the doorway and says nothing.

“I can wait,” Ben offers, because that’s just the kind of man he is. Stan could ask him to skip a shower altogether and he would, no questions asked. He’s not the least bit selfish, like Stan is. Stan admires him for that.

He takes a steadying breath, trying very hard to control the aching pressure in his head that insists he needs to be clean right this second. “It’s okay,” he says. “I just normally shower now.”

Ben finally takes his hand out from under the spray and wipes it dry on his pajama pants. “Oh,” he says. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”

It’s a kind offer, one Stan expects because Ben is a kind man, but he knows Ben’s interview is at 8 and if he doesn’t shower now, he won’t. Stan has very strict rituals and they make him sort of self-centered, but this interview means a lot to Ben, and Ben means a lot to Stan, and Stan refuses to ruin this for him.

Stan strips out of his shirt. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says decisively. Ben nods and starts to leave him to it, so Stan reaches out and catches his wrist. “But you’re welcome to join me.”

The thing Stan loves perhaps the most about Ben is, at least when it comes to Stan, he never asks him if he’s sure. Stan is always sure. He does not say things he does not mean. And so, despite the fact that Ben is eyeing him like maybe Richie has finally figured out how to switch their bodies, he returns to the shower to readjust the spray. Stan strips the rest of the way while he’s not looking and tries not to look too gratified by the way Ben inhales sharply when he turns back around.

“I, uh,” Ben says. “Is this too hot?”

It is, but Stan doesn’t say that. Ben likes hot showers, so Stan will make do. He climbs under the spray and wets his hair, peeking an eye open when he doesn’t hear Ben follow him. “Aren’t you coming?”

Red-faced, Ben sheds his pajama pants and finally joins Stan in the shower. It’s not the first time Stan has seen him naked, not the hundredth, but Stan still clears his eyes of water to appreciate the view. Ben is big, solid, his belly soft and hanging. He’s a hairy man, from his beard to his chest to his legs, and he’s girthy everywhere, including his… well.

He’s gorgeous. Stan wants to tell him so, but Ben puts his hands suddenly on Stan’s hips and he’s struck speechless

“You’re hogging all the water,” Ben murmurs, and he strokes his thumbs across Stan’s hipbones. Stan is grateful for the grip, because he’s suddenly sure that Ben is going to bodily move him out of the way and the idea makes his knees a little weak.

“Oh,” Stan says, softly. “I’m sorry.”

They trade places. The shower space is not very big, so their bodies rub together as they maneuver around each other. It’s a slick slide, frictionless and wonderful, and Stan likes the way Ben’s skin feels so he pours some body wash into his hands and rubs it across Ben’s chest. It rumbles under his palms when Ben laughs, surprised.

“You don’t have to do that,” Ben tells him, sounding very fond.

“I know,” Stan says. “But I want to.”

And Ben doesn’t look like he knows what to say to that.

They take turns washing each other then, hair and beard and bodies. At one point, Ben reaches low, his fingers brushing just between the vee of Stan’s hips. Stan catches his hand, pins it still. “You don’t have time,” he says. Ben looks sort of disappointed, so Stan brushes his lips across the very tip of Ben’s nose and assures him, “We’ll celebrate later. After you get your internship.”

Ben smiles, then, almost like he can’t help it. “What if I don’t get it?”

“You will,” Stan says. There’s no doubt in his mind. He slides in close again, their bodies pushed together, water sluicing between their bare chests. “Consider this your motivation.”

Ben groans throatily, but he doesn’t grab for Stan again when Stan pulls away. They finish their shower, trading soap and kisses and hot looks.

They don’t see each other again that night. Ben comes home too late for dinner, and Stan goes to bed early. But the next morning, when Stan comes into the bathroom, bleary-eyed and yawning, Ben is already there, waiting for him. The shower is already running, and he is once again testing the water temperature with the back of his hand. He looks much more confident about it this time, smiling easily at Stan.

“I got the internship,” he says.

Stan, slowly, returns his smile. “We should celebrate,” he says back.