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The couch in Chase's sitting area was, unfortunately, in need of repair. He didn't personally know anyone in the service of upholstery--but he had a sick fucking idea for a TikTok.
He opened his DM's--ignoring all of the recent notifications from people who were trying to virtually top him--and messaged his good pal (...fellow victim?), Mr. David Upholstery.
"hi i know u mostly do restaurants but i have a couch in dire need of your services"
And he waited. No promise that David would respond at all, given that he--similar to Chase--had likely stopped looking at DM's. It was better not to read about how people wanted to rearrange his fucking organs from the inside until scientists classified him as another species (creative, but... holy shit).
Although, honestly, David got the better half of the deal, in the sense that most of his comments were genuinely begging to be dominated.
"David I've been a bad little leather seat" and so on. Yes, Chase had scrolled through the comments. Mostly out of curiosity--were David's adoring fans just as bad as Chase's?
(They were probably all the same people, living in their mothers' basements, stalking the two pages to see if either creator had updated.)
It took less time than Chase had figured it would, to receive his response.
"Oh God" was the first message David sent. A completely understandable reaction.
"Is this really about upholstery?"
Chase had a pretty good idea what the alternative was. He responded with a picture of the couch in his sitting area.
"give the fans what they want mr upholstery", he added.
It took another day, for the next reply to come through. Clearly, David was a busy man--couches, and many people to break them with so that he could repair them later, and so on.
"Please, call me Dave."
A pause. The typing bubbles remained--on and off--for about fifteen minutes. Chase figured that he wouldn't be getting the help he required from his close personal friend David.
Until: "Can we exchange information? I don't conduct business on this account unless I have to anymore."
Chase was so excited that he nearly messed up the digits of his phone number as he typed them out to David.
From there, they figured out a time for David to come to Chase's apartment and fix the couch. If Chase was lucky, he could post a video of the fixed couch on his account, and David could post a picture of some grand meal Chase would make for the two of them. Brilliant TikTok engagement bait--maybe some particularly thirsty fans would even fantasize about the two of them together.
But, hey, money's money. Anything that Chase spent to pay David for his services, he'd receive a good bit more than that in profit from his videos (hopefully). Besides, he also got to meet the legend himself--Mr. Upholstery, whom Chase had now received the honor of calling "Dave". What a beautiful day this was.
Summer was in full swing by the time the day came for Dave to repair the couch. They lived a good distance apart, so Chase had offered to pay for his transportation--gas was so fucking expensive, but there was nothing more valuable to him than a visit from Mr. Upholstery, the god of unwilling TikTok fame. Chase could bow down at that altar.
(No, he was not as bad as the parasocial TikTok fans for saying that.)
(At least he had received a response from David, unlike them.)
To prepare, Chase had made Texas toast mac-and-cheese grilled cheeses for both of them--following the recipe on his TikTok!--because didn't people from Texas like Texas toast? Probably. He'd also prepared a few sides and chilled some Diet Cokes, as well as a few brands of beer in case the guy was a drinker. Chase would be a drinker, too, if he'd somehow become the object of the internet's lewd affection while simply trying to advertise his upholstery business.
Mr. David Upholstery arrived promptly, at around noon. He was a middle-aged man who looked vaguely as though he wanted to shoot everyone in the surrounding area and then himself (which made sense, given his fanbase). He had a bunch of tools with him, probably for repair, though Chase wasn't sure what any of it was supposed to do. Hence, why he hadn't just decided to fix the couch himself. Much more enjoyable to hire a professional--theprofessional
"Hey, Dave, welcome in," Chase told him. They ate briefly before David would take his shot at repairing the couch, and the man was perfectly kind. Had that southern sort of charm, even though there was a sort of instinctual nervousness in the way that he kept glancing at his phone. Chase understood it entirely. The TikTok people could have somehow figured out both of their respective locations, and now, there could be an impromptu meet-and-greet of the two most swooned-over creators on the platform.
Hard not to think that way, when the comments were so specific. Many of them, in fact, directly advised Chase against hosting a meet-and-greet.
Didn't need to tell him twice.
The meal was perfectly nice--Chase had coaxed Dave into taking a picture of the food beforehand, to be posted later--and then, it was time for upholstering.
"Mmm, good that you called me," David told him as he examined the leather sofa, running a calloused hand over the parts that needed to be repaired. "This one needs a special touch--the material's too nice for just anyone to repair it." Then, he'd launched into some upholstering jargon that Chase had acted like he understood, smiling and nodding as needed. There was the unspoken understanding that Chase would, in fact, be overseeing the couch's repair; too important of a moment to miss. It felt more vital than his high school graduation, honestly, watching the middle-aged man flawlessly use his hands to fix Chase's sitting room couch. David was his mirror, the man who was receiving a flood TikTok comments pleading to be dominated by a middle-aged man.
It was hardly fair that Chase had to be the bottom, he thought with a little bitterness, but that was besides the point.
He'd stripped the couch down to its frame lovingly, with a sort of tenderness that was reserved for lovers and apparently couches. David's hands were perfectly steady as he used his staple remover and scissors, handling the project as if he'd done this same thing hundreds of times (he had, Chase figured). They chatted about random things as he did so--work, cooking, why someone would spend so much time perfecting something as time-consuming as upholstery. The whole setting felt rather intimate, as if they were old-time friends, with the low lighting of Chase's apartment. When silence fell, it was only because the upholsterer was particularly focused on his work, and Chase admired from a few feet away.
David measured his fabric, then, making sure that it aligned perfectly with the couch. The process was satisfying to watch in a way that Chase had never experienced before. Perhaps he needed to watch people fix couches more often.
"Oh yeah, David," Chase told him with an approving nod as he watched from his spot on the ground. "Right there. That's some good shit."
Chase had never thought that something as simple as repairing a couch could take so much time--he'd never considered how intricate the art of upholstery could be. Each staple was placed with a care and focus that was akin to a sculptor's reverent touch. The corners of the fabric were folded with utmost neatness, like a particularly important present; and that, it was. A present for Chase, sort of, though he was paying good money for this.
David had finished trimming the fabric's edges, then said he was attaching something he called a "cambric"--whatever the hell that was--to the bottom of the sofa. "That's the spot," David said once he perfectly aligned it, stapling the thin sheet right where he wanted it.
Once he was done, David stood up, Chase right behind him. Side by side, they admired the upholstered couch--sleek, inky material, with no visible flaws--appreciatively. A job well done, by any and all standards, though Chase wasn't even sure what an upholstered couch was supposed to look like, anyway. The man could have just slapped a fucking patch on the part that had been damaged or something, and Chase would have been happy enough. But instead, he'd left Chase with a masterpiece he'd poured his precious concentration into, a portrait of their time together, a stunning work of art to remember David by.
Chase raised his phone to take a picture, planning to post it later. David had taken the camera--"Not gonna test it out?" He asked, gesturing to the shining leather.
"Oh, what the hell," he'd replied, hopping onto the sofa. The new fabric of the leather felt like a hug, a lover's warm touch. Chase posed for the picture--shame that David hadn't been in it, but alas, the man hadn't had an official face reveal online for a reason--grinning as he considered what TikTok would think of this.
Chase checked the picture--oh, yeah, the internet's gonna love this--and thanked David for his services.
"Is that all?" David asked expectantly. "Nothing else you want to give me?"
Chase's mind went to places that he couldn't reasonably articulate. However, the second thing he thought of--he reached into his back pocket and counted the bills that he owed David.
The upholsterer nodded, counting his profits for himself once Chase handed them to him. "Oh, yeah, this should cover it."
"Thanks, Dave."
A grin, laced with that easy southern charm, as he sauntered over to the door. "No problem, Chase."
Chase watched the man go mournfully. He didn't even have a picture of Mr. David Upholstery--how would he ever prove that this interaction had happened, if Dave didn't post the photo of their lunch? How would Chase ever be able to sit on that couch, with the knowledge that if it broke again, there was little-to-no chance that Mr. Upholstery would come to repair it a second time?
"Good luck with TikTok!" Chase called after him. He had to get one last word in.
David laughed, shaking his head as he crossed the threshold. "You, too."