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Eddie could scream, he really could. After everything happened, after nearly dying, he didn’t think things could feel… worse, somehow. And maybe that was unfair, and unrealistic, because it wasn’t worse, necessarily. But it was. Because now he knew what it was like to feel loved and needed and cared about, valued, and he couldn’t bear to lose that. And honestly, the one thing he really, really wanted, kind of more than anything right now, was the one thing that would definitely ruin all of it.
He took a sip of his beer, kind of getting closer to room temperature as he gripped it tight in his hand. He tried to not think about that thing he really, really wanted, but it was hard. Like really difficult. Because that thing was in front of him with his hands on his hips, arguing with Dustin Henderson about…hair products? He thinks? To be fair, he wasn’t really listening, his head running a mile a minute and doing his very best not to stare. And failing. He was definitely failing at the not staring thing. Because now Steve was looking at him, one hand off his hip and vaguely motioning toward Dustin, as if asking for assistance.
“Listen to your mother,” Eddie mumbled around the lip of his beer, downing the rest of it before it was too warm to enjoy anymore. Dustin looked at him, mouth open, aghast. Steve just crossed his arms with a grin of success, apparently no longer minding the mom title. Good for him.
He couldn’t be here anymore, watching them. It gave him too much of a warm feeling in his stomach and that feeling just reminded him that everything ended and everyone would leave and this moment was temporary at best. So he got up and walked into the kitchen of Steve’s actually, ridiculously big house to grab himself another beer. He vaguely debated just leaving, but didn’t really have anywhere to go, shuttering at the memories in his trailer. He had avoided it before the whole Vecna fight, and had been distracted during, and unconscious after, and now he just couldn’t bear to go back. Which was part of the problem. Because Steve had offered to let him stay with him in the guest room and everyone thought it was such a great idea, there had been no alternative offers. So he kind of lived here now. And he couldn’t just leave his kind of house.
And it did kind of feel like that, which just made the whole situation worse. Steve had gone to the trailer a few days after Eddie moved in, without Eddie even knowing, and basically packed up all of Eddie’s stuff, bringing it back and putting it in the guest room – Eddie’s room. For the first few days Eddie just left everything in the boxes, fishing through for clothes when he needed it, still using the clothes Steve lent him as pajamas. He’d never really had pajamas before. But then Steve had come in, not bothering to knock, which– honestly could have been worse if Eddie hadn’t just been lying on his bed reading The Fellowship of the Ring for the 50th time. He had, admittedly, been listening to music loudly. But in his defense, he thought Steve had been at work. And he had, but he had also just arrived home and “Jesus Christ, Munson. Can’t you listen to music at a reasonable volume?” He was still wearing that stupid Family Video vest over a striped polo and stupid high belted jeans and god did he look good when he was frazzled.
But as soon as he was in the door, Steve looked at the boxes and let out a huff, hands finding home on his hips.
“Why haven’t you unpacked?” He’d asked, waving a hand at the pile in the corner. Posters were rolled up neatly, deliberately, poking out of corners of boxes piled with his cassettes, in the same order they were in his room, he’d noticed, Eddie’s guitar nestled in the desk chair, where Steve had left it. Eddie just shrugged, not really knowing how to explain the ephemerality of people’s kindness and how he wasn’t going to be welcome here long enough to make it worth it.
Steve didn’t seem to need verbal confirmation and just let himself further into the room, hands diving into the boxes, grabbing at the clothes first. They were folded neatly, not balled up like they had been in his dresser in the trailer. Steve handled them gently, with care, softly placing them into the dresser next to the door, separated into categories. Eddie would be embarrassed when Steve grabbed a pile of his underwear and set them neatly in the top drawer, but he also noticed they had been folded too, and at this point, protesting wasn’t worth it. He didn’t really know what to do, so he just watched Steve unpack his stuff. Clothes first, then cassettes, lining them up on a shelf that had been suspiciously empty when he arrived. They were still in order, not alphabetical or anything, but the order he was familiar with, Steve taking care to keep them that way. Once the cassettes and other little bits were done, Steve grabbed for the posters, unrolling one to show Eddie, eyebrows arched in a question. He didn’t know how to respond so he just shrugged. Steve rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh and Eddie wanted to kiss him.
And then Steve proceeded to hang up Eddie’s posters. Giving up on Eddie’s suggestions, or lack thereof, he stood and looked around the room for a good spot before tacking it up. Putting holes in the walls with pushpins. Leaving a mark. A sign that Eddie was here. To his credit, Eddie noticed that a lot of the posters and magazine scraps and ticket stubs were in similar places as they had been in his old room. Like Steve had taken the time to memorize it before he brought them back. There was something about that sweetness, the thoughtfulness, that felt like a stab to his heart.
So he lived with Steve now. It was kind of sweet and domestic and painful. Because at night, and early in the morning, and the days Steve didn’t work, there was no buffer. Just the two of them and Steve’s incredibly caring, smothering kindness. Steve drove him to school every day, even when Eddie protested “I have my own van, man.” but Steve just replied with a lecture about Eddie’s safety and how he was part of the group now and it was their responsibility to protect him and that meant getting him to and from school safely.
It just made his heart hurt more.
Especially because Steve let him sit in the front, even when they picked up Robin and she argued about that being her spot, and let him control the music “Just no metal.” Eddie always snuck in some metal. Steve never argued.
So here he was, sitting on the counter of the huge kitchen island nursing another beer, this one actually cold, listening to the voices of Steve and Dustin drifting through the house. His house. Part of him felt guilty, leaving his uncle alone in the trailer, but part of him knew it was better for him. While he wasn’t legally guilty of the murders and had been cleared of charges, the people of Hawkins didn’t forget so fast. The more distance he put between himself and his uncle Wayne, the better. But it hurt. Wayne was the only person who he ever felt like had his back always. He was the only place that didn’t feel fleeting. Yet it was. Nothing stays.
The sound of the front door closing brought him back to the moment, hand wet with the condensation building up on the can. His foot dangled and his other was wedged against the edge of the counter, left arm wrapped around his shin tightly, chin resting on his knee. Steve walked in, didn’t comment on his foot on the counter despite this behavior being unacceptable from any of the kids whenever they were around. Eddie knew Steve was softer with him, saw the looks of furrowed brows and concerned eyes.
“You hungry?” Steve asked, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. Stupid eyes soft.
“Yeah, man” he replied, lowering his leg and taking his foot off the counter. “I could eat.”
Steve nodded and pushed off the doorframe with his hip, walking past Eddie to the fridge, pulling out random ingredients that to Eddie honestly looked like nothing really. But he was starting to get used to this too. He never really cooked before, and Wayne never had the time with work, so Eddie mostly ate boxed mac-n-cheese and hotdogs and cereal and peanut butter sandwiches, and whatever else came in the box from the food pantry or could be made in 15 minutes with directions on a box. Food hadn’t ever been the number one priority, it’s hard to be when you don’t have the money for it. But Steve had the money, and apparently the experience. Because they ate a real meal with vegetables and everything nearly every night. Sure they ordered pizza sometimes, and once in a while chinese, though Eddie could tell Steve didn’t really like it that much and he mostly ordered it because Eddie liked it so much.
Eddie had told him how Wayne used to bring him to the All You Can Eat chinese buffet for celebrations. Every birthday and good report card. At least for a while. They hadn’t gone in years. That night Steve had ordered chinese, so much they had eaten leftovers for two days before Steve declared they were throwing the rest away because “If I smell chinese food one more time I am going to barf.” Eddie did everything he could to keep from arguing as the food slid into the trash. Because it was different here, with Steve. And his parents’ money.
Eddie knew better than to bring it up. He’d stumbled over it once, a few weeks ago, pretty early on into living here. He’d tried to make a joke, how Steve “ wouldn’t know desperation if it hit him in the face.” The look Steve had given him had made him want to be swallowed by the ground. Steve hadn’t said anything, hadn’t admonished Eddie for overstepping, he’d just changed the subject. Eddie figured out that that was a topic to avoid. And, through Robin, had learned that Steve's cushy life hadn’t been so cushy; it had come with a price. Steve’s history of lost battles and black eyes went further back than Eddie realized, and all of a sudden, he didn’t wish to trade places with Steve anymore. At least he’d had Wayne since he was young; one adult he could trust and rely on. The way Steve just coasted through life kind of made sense now. Why try when you get punished either way? Eddie got that.
Steve handed Eddie a knife and pushed the cutting board towards him, some vegetables on the side. He took the onion for himself, dicing it small and complaining about Dustin stealing his hairspray when “It’s not even right for his hair texture and he knows this because we’ve gone over it and I told him I would help him get the right stuff for when he visits Suzie, especially with the climate difference in Utah…”
Then he’s asked Eddie about the new campaign he’s planning and how it’s going with a voice so warm and soft and genuinely interested that Eddie really wants to die a little bit because it’s too much to know that this is amazing and wonderful and the best he’s ever felt and it’s also not enough. But he doesn’t say that. He just let’s himself feel the warmth and comfort and tells Steve about his plans even though he knows Steve doesn’t understand but he listens anyway. And he talks about how Will has been helping him come up with some more twists and “It’s actually fun to have a kind of co-DM for once so it’s not all on me to do all the work, you know? And Will likes the planning part but doesn’t love the actual execution, so it’s a good balance. He’s a good kid, I can see how much the boys love him.” And Eddie does all he can to keep his eyes on the vegetables as he hacks into them in such contrast to Steve’s perfectly diced onions. He keeps rambling because what else can he do? And Steve just nods along and asks leading questions and scoops all the vegetables into a bowl and starts mixing something. Now Eddie doesn’t have the vegetables to focus on or anything to do with his hands he feels fidgety and grabs at the ends of his hair, brushing it against his lips and cheeks as he talks, anything to distract himself from Steve stirring and flipping and cooking a meal for them to eat in their big house that they live in together.
Steve slides a dish into the oven and closes it, turning to lean his elbows on the island in front of where Eddie is now sitting, cross-legged, and rambling. Steve just stares at him with big doe eyes and pink, pink lips that make Eddie sweat just thinking about them and he can’t look away and he feels himself leaning forward, basking in Steve’s attention. A warning bell goes off somewhere in the back of his mind: Danger, Will Robinson. He should move back, he should stop looking into Steve’s eyes, he should stop smiling and searching for something that isn’t there. He’s going to do what he always does and push, just keep pushing too far, taking too much, before it all goes away.
But Steve doesn’t turn back, just keeps leaning forward as Eddie leans in, eyes flicking to Eddie’s mouth with his ramblings slowing to a stop as he tries to catch his breath. His hands fall from his hair and he leans his weight on them as he keeps going forward, inches from Steve’s face, breathing his air. Steve just looks at him, eyes searching, mouth turned up to the side.
The front door opens and Eddie jumps back, sitting up at the sound, heart beating out of his chest. Steve’s head drops, hanging between his shoulders as Dustin’s voice echoes through the house.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Steve whispers under his breath, pushing off the counter and leaving the room. Eddie couldn’t agree more.
When Steve comes back after shoving Dustin out the door again, the spell is broken. There isn’t tension so much as the lack of and they both just eat dinner over small conversation. Domestic. Painful.
The end of the school year is fast approaching and Eddie has homework, which honestly kills him because he’s going to graduate this year goddammit but he’s also a 21 year old man who is so sick of this homework shit. And he has finals coming up he needs to study for but the only thing his mind can ever think about is Steve and how he just sits around the house sometimes, always right there like he won’t leave Eddie’s side.
He called Steve out once, told him he didn’t need a babysitter. Steve had just laughed, mouth open wide and eyes sparkling.
“Sure thing, bud,” he had said, crossing his arms and perching on the arm rest of the couch, looking at Eddie and his books spread out over the coffee table, a cassette playing in the background. He’d looked, fond , and it killed Eddie to think Steve saw him as one of his kids. Eddie was older than he was, and they’d been through shit together. But Steve had been through shit with the rest of them too, especially Dustin, and he saw what that did to Steve; made him protective, hovering. Like he did with Eddie when he was studying.
The same thing was happening now, their familiar positions of Eddie on the floor with books spread over the coffee table and Steve sitting just behind him on the couch, watching the television without sound. Eddie wondered how he could do that.
Eddie sighed in frustration, reading the same sentence for the tenth time and feeling like he was going crazy. He was pretty sure he was fine in almost all his classes, he’d read the same books three years in a row and written the same history papers. But math was kicking his butt, as usual. It was so frustrating to know you have the capability, to know it was there, but was just out of reach. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and felt Steve lean in over him to look at his paper.
“You know this one, man.” Steve said, squeezing his shoulder again and reaching forward to grab the textbook. He flipped back a few pages and pressed it open flat in front of them. “Look, here, see? Just plug in this formula with the numbers in the text. Here… and here…”
Steve’s tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he took Eddie’s pencil and scribbled on a corner of his scrap paper. Eddie wasn’t sure if this was more distracting or motivating. Steve’s eyes on him, watching him, as he scribbled away at the problem, filling in the formula Steve had pointed out which– Eddie knew that. He did. He knew it somewhere in the back of his head but how the fuck was he supposed to concentrate on stupid math when just over a month ago he had been fighting some dream monster on a parallel dimension? Like, what was that for perspective? But Steve was watching him and the hope in his eyes tore at Eddie like a wild thing.
He finished the problem and tilted his paper for Steve to see and god he didn’t know if that was a good or bad decision because Steve hugged both his shoulders from behind, shifting his legs so Eddie sat between them, and tucked his chin in the crook of Eddie’s neck. He felt fucking consumed by Steve’s heat and he could feel the beat of Steve’s heart against his back. All he could do to keep sane was focus harder on what he was doing and fuck it, maybe Steve knew what he was doing because he had never focused so hard on math in his life. It was like a lifeline and he was drowning.
The rumbling sounds of affirmation that Steve made with every completed question made him wish, for the first time in his life, that he had more homework. But once he’d finished, Steve didn’t get up. He sat back, but his legs were still on either side of Eddie, knees pressed into his shoulders, and he had one hand lazily draped on Eddie’s neck, fingers twisting the ends of his hair. He really might die. Goodbye world, I’m deceased. After all, there are worse ways to go than having his hair tangled in Steve Harrington’s fingers.
Eddie needed something to do with his hands, with his brain, so he picked up his worn copy of The Fellowship again and started to read. He felt an infinitesimal tug on his hair and he looked up at Steve smiling at him.
“Nerd,” he said, fondly. Eddie’s heart skipped in his chest. He desperately tried to look away but found it impossible. “Read to me?”
Yep, yep, yep. That was it. He was dead. He must have died back there in the Upside Down and this whole last month had been just the last seconds of life creating a wishful dream before he was gone forever. Because Steve Harrington playing with his hair and asking Eddie to read Lord of the Rings aloud to him was just too unreal to be happening in real life.
But, even if he was dead, he didn’t want this to end. He wanted to hold on for dear life and never let go because he had never felt so much happiness at once and he knew it would disappear any second. So he tore his eyes from Steve and flipped back to the first page of the book, taking a deep breath.
“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.”
He read a lot, for hours, until his throat was sore from it. Every so often, he would look up and see Steve, eyes closed but awake, thumb rubbing small arches on the side of Eddie’s neck, just listening. Domestic. Painful.
Around midnight he finally stopped. He’d nearly finished the book, and while it would give him no greater pleasure than finishing and moving right into The Two Towers, his voice was scratchy and hoarse and he had a test in Ms. O’Donnel’s class tomorrow.
“Steve,” he rasped a bit, putting a bit of ripped paper to hold his page.
“Yes, dear?” Steve’s eyes were still closed but there was a smile playing at this lips and his voice was slow and liquid.
“Some of us have school in the morning.”
“Mmm, some of us are nerds,” Steve laughed at himself as he said it, squeezing the back of Eddie’s neck gently before letting go and stretching, arms pulling above his head and shirt riding up on his hips. Eddie averted his eyes. Not that he hadn’t seen Steve practically naked already. But this was different, private, intimate. “Alright, bedtime.”
Steve used Eddie’s shoulders to push himself up off the couch and left the room. It really wasn’t fair. Eddie almost died, had saved everyone in this shitty town, and now he had to suffer torture. Granted, it was such lovely torture.
He pulled at all his books and papers, piling them into his bag for tomorrow, standing just as Steve came in brushing his teeth, holding out Eddie’s toothbrush, wet and full of toothpaste. He took it, muttering thanks, shoving it in his mouth. It was the expensive kind, the ones that you didn’t buy in a value pack.
When Eddie first got here, Steve had opened the bathroom closet to show him all the towels and soap and razors. It looked like a store, stocked full with all kinds of soap and perfumes and different kinds of shampoos. Steve had taken out a little basket with brand new toothbrushes and held it out to him. “Pick one,” he had said. And Eddie knew it was easy generosity, and he shouldn’t be impressed. Honestly, Steve probably didn’t know the value of that closet. But the ease with which he offered Eddie everything. Piling his hands with products, saying ”These are all yours. You don’t have to share.” Eddie had cried that first night. For a lot of reasons. But for some reason it was the toothbrush that had broken him, looking at it, remembered the toothbrush he had back in the trailer. The one he’d been using probably for over a year. Not bothering to spend money on a new one. They were worlds apart.
He left his bag by the door, next to his pile of shoes mixed with Steve’s. They wore nearly the same size, but you could tell whose was whose easily. Something about seeing them jumbled up together in a pile made his stomach flip.
Upstairs, Steve was washing his face in his en suite, Eddie could hear the water rushing as he walked past. He went to the guest bathroom – his bathroom – to finish brushing and spit. Splashing some water on his face before going to his room. He had just taken of his shirt, rummaging in a pile for the soft Hawkins Phys Ed shirt he slept in when he heard a gentle knock. Steve cracked the door, unaware of privacy as usual, and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Hey,” he said, staring.
“Hey,” Eddie replied, standing with one hand gripping the shirt.
“Good luck on your test tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you driving me to school, dear?” He tried to sound smooth, like he was unfazed by the ruffled look of Steve’s hair that he didn’t bother fixing when he was at home. Like he didn’t notice how tight his shorts were, or the hair on his chest, scars shining pink in the dim light of the lamp. He pulled the shirt over his head, hiding his own, matching scars.
Steve dropped his head with a chuckle.
“Yeah, man. Yeah, I am. Just– thought it’d help you sleep, I guess.”
Eddie nodded. Honestly, it probably would, though sleep wasn’t so easy to come by these days.
“Good,” he said, crossing his own arms over his chest. “I thought maybe you were resigning as my bodyguard.”
Steve let out a snort, smile hanging open as he looked up at him. Big, big eyes. Stupid eyes.
“Nah, man,” he laughed out, hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I got your back.”
Eddie nodded again, not really knowing what to say and looking at his hands.
“I mean it, you know.” Steve’s voice was more earnest now, arms hugging himself. “I’m always here. I got you.”
Eddie gulped back a lump that seemed to permanently live in his throat these days. The pain of knowing Steve cared so much pressing in on him, knowing it couldn’t last, that it wasn’t what he wanted and feeling like shit for it. He wanted to run to him, more than anything to grab him in a hug and just squeeze until neither of them could breathe anymore. He wanted to kiss his pink, pink lips and the lids of his big, stupid eyes, and every shining scar on his stomach and neck and chest and just swallow him. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. He just said “Yeah man, I know” and gave as much of a smile as he could muster. He knew Steve saw passed it, but they all had something past their smiles these days.
“Alright. Goodnight, Munson.” Steve said, standing and grabbing the door handle to pull it closed behind him.
“‘Night, Harrington.”
He replaced his jeans with soft, worn-in sweatpants that were just a little too big and flopped back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Flashes of the gate in his trailer appeared in his vision and he screwed his eyes shut tight, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids, covering the visions in stars. He let out a rough sigh, throat still sore from reading.
He needed a fucking smoke.
As quietly as possible, knowing there was no way Steve had drifted off yet, he crept out of his room and down the stairs, joint in hand. Careful to avoid the squeaky step, he made his way to the back door, sliding it open and slipping out into the oppressive humidity of early June night. He pulled a lounge chair closer to the pool, so he could lay out and see the stars, and lit up the joint. Taking long, slow inhales, he felt a sense of fuzzy calm creep around him. He tried not to rely on weed too much these days, and had all but stopped having anything harder laying around since coming back from it all, but sometimes the noise in his head just wouldn’t fucking stop and his body was buzzing and he just needed a break.
“If you wanted to be alone to smoke, you could have just said, Munson.”
Steve’s face was smiling as Eddie turned to see him closing the sliding door behind him, but there was something in his voice that sounded…hurt, small.
“Ah, but the fun of sneaking out of the house without mommy seeing is part of the experience, you see,” he replied, taking a drag, holding it, before blowing it into the air and watching it drift to the stars.
“Well mom caught you, so now what are you going to do?” Steve sounded brighter now, less abandoned. Eddie nodded, thinking before he spoke.
“Bribery?” He looked up at Steve and held the smoking light up into the sky, less than half gone. Steve grinned and pushed his hands against Eddie’s side, ushering him to scooch over so he could fill the sliver of space left. Their bodies were pressed against each other, knees tangled as they angled to face each other so both of them could fit together on the narrow lounger. Eddie watched as Steve took the joint and pulled it to his lips, cheeks hollowing out as he sucked in. His lips parted as he inhaled and he turned his head away from Eddie just slightly, blowing out the side of his mouth to avoid getting it in his face. Eddie wished he hadn’t. He wanted Steve to blow it right into his face, into his mouth, to breathe the same air.
Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was Steve being so close, or the evening being too much, but Eddie felt his resolve slowly dissolving. He had tried so hard, for so long, to just ignore the feelings and the urges, to not read into the way Steve would look at him, how his eyes would follow Eddie even when they were surrounded by other people. But he couldn’t do it anymore. Seeing the way Steve’s lips wrapped around the joint, the way his eyes fluttered closed as he breathed in– what was Eddie supposed to do? He’d never been good at restraint. He’d never been able to hold himself back or stop himself from acting on impulses. And he had done, for a whole month, they should all be proud of him. But now it was all too much.
Steve held out the joint to him, smaller now, and he took it, leaning over Steve’s body to snuff it out on the concrete of the pool deck. His body was pressed up against Steve’s, knee cradled between his thighs. He looked down onto Steve, eyelids drooping and half closed, looking up at him through long lashes. His pink, pink lips were parted and glistening from where his tongue had swiped over them. Eddie could hear Steve’s breath, feel it, trained into a slow rhythm. He put one hand on Steve’s chest, over his heart, and felt the erratic fluttering under his hand. He was so sick of waiting, of second-guessing. Nothing stayed, everything ended eventually, why not have all the fun he can while he’s still got it good.
So he moves his hand slowly from Steve’s chest to his neck, thumb tracing the strip of scar circling it, pressing ever so gently. He was watching Steve’s face carefully, watching as his big eyes fluttered at the touch and flicked between his eyes and his mouth and back, over and over as if on repeat. Eddie moves his hands to Steve’s jaw, cradling his face, and something changes in that moment, that split second. Steve’s hands, which had been balled stiffly at his sides until now, reached up and gripped his waist, pulling Eddie down flush against him. There was a pleading in Steve’s eyes as he looked at Eddie, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted and just an inch away from Eddie’s.
He could taste him, breathing his breath. The earthiness of the weed they’d both smoked, the matching mint of their shared toothpaste, and Steve. He wanted so desperately to close the gap, to bridge that tiniest distance between him, but it meant no going back. He hoped he was right, hoped he knew what he was doing, hoped this was brave and not stupid.
“Eddie–” Steve breathed against him and it was like all of the reserves of power he’d been using to keep his distance were depleted and all the walls he’d built crashed down and he pressed his mouth against the waiting pink, pink lips beneath him.
It was better than he’d hoped. He was in heaven and he had seen Hell and this was so far from it he felt like he was drifting away. Steve’s lips were soft and wet and needy and the soft scratch of his chin felt just right as Eddie used both hands to cradle his face, balancing with one knee crushed between Steve’s thighs. Steve pulled harder at his waist, arching his back to meet him, pressing their chests together. Steve let out an exasperated breath, right into Eddie’s mouth, like he needed more and couldn’t get it. But Eddie would give it to him. Eddie would give Steve anything he wanted. He’d give him the world.
He pulled back, a tiny doubt in the back of his head, needing to be sure. Steve’s lips followed as he pulled away. Keeping their foreheads pressed together, Eddie stopped kissing him, just for a moment, night silent as they breathed into each other’s mouths.
“Ok?” He asked, voice wrecked from reading and kissing and needing.
Steve nodded vigorously, pulling Eddie fully on top of him and pinning him there.
“God it took you forever,” Steve breathed out in a half laugh half grunt. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh too,
“I had to be sure.”
“I’ve never had to work so hard for this before, Munson. So be sure.” Steve had that look on his face, the one he got when he felt like no one was listening to him and he was trying his best. That frazzled, wild look that usually preceded a lecture. Eddie tilted Steve’s chin up and ducked down, pressing a soft kiss against his mouth, heart fluttering.
“It’s not–” he stopped, second-guessing himself again, not wanting to spoil a good thing. But again, he’d never been good at restraint. “It’s not just a sex thing for me.”
Steve huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. Eddie would have been hurt, but he knew that look, that fond exasperation.
“Do you think I do all these things for someone I just want to sleep with? Do you think I would listen to Lord of the Rings for three hours just to fuck you?”
Eddie was grinning, he could feel it. He pressed his face against Steve’s throat to hide the flushed burning of his cheeks.
“Well it worked,” he mumbled into Steve’s skin. He felt the rumble of Steve’s chest as he laughed.
“Nerd,” Steve said softly, fondly, bringing a hand up to pet the back of Eddie’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Eddie melted.