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The habit had started up before they even started dating, Steve’s fingers absent-mindedly tracing over the ink in Eddie’s skin. Sometimes while they were in a group, tucked away in the Wheeler’s basement or the Byler-Hopper’s living room or even Steve’s house, but most often when they were alone. For a while, Eddie wasn’t even sure if Steve was aware of the fact that he was doing it. He seemed like the type to fidget, kind of like Eddie himself, just in a quieter way.
But in any case, Eddie certainly didn’t care. Having his crush’s hands, once the hottest guy in Hawkins (still was, in Eddie’s opinion), all over him? Sign Eddie up. And, in a more serious sense, it was kind of comforting. All of the little touches he got from this oddball group were – they seemed to survive on the connection, verifying that everyone was okay, that they were still warm and alive, that there was still blood rushing around underneath that skin – but Steve’s touch got that static under Eddie’s skin to relax in a way that the others’ didn’t.
Not that Eddie would ever fucking say any of this out loud.
But the part that Eddie would really never mention, under pain of death, was that sometimes Steve’s fingers tickled like hell. Not that Eddie was complaining about that fact, but it was embarrassing, and it was even more embarrassing that he didn’t mind it. So Steve didn’t know, and if Eddie had his way, Steve never would.
And that worked out, up until they started dating.
Freshly showered, Eddie made his way down the too-long halls in Steve’s too-long house until he reached Steve’s bedroom. Eddie rolled his eyes as Steve greeted him with a wolf-whistle and a wide smirk to match.
“What, I can’t appreciate my boyfriend?” Steve said.
Eddie scoffed, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his bare chest. He knew it was a bad idea to make his way back in here in just a pair of sweatpants, but he had forgotten his sleep shirt in his bag when he’d gone to shower. He moved to go grab it, but was stopped by a long, pitiful whine from the bed. God, and people called Eddie a drama queen.
Eddie turned to raise an eyebrow at Steve, finding him already pouting and making grabby-hands in Eddie’s direction. “Come on , you don’t need it. Come here. I wanna see your tattoos.”
And that was the beginning of the end. Because while Eddie was able to hide his reactions when Steve was tracing around the ink on his arms, it was a whole different story when Steve started tracing the tattoos on his chest and torso. He’d never been very good at suppressing it, Steve noticing the way his nose scrunched up almost instantly.
“Ticklish?” Steve asked.
Eddie pursed his lips around his smile. “Maybe.” He tensed, expecting a full-blown attack, but Steve just kept his steady pace tracing the tattoo on Eddie’s chest.
Steve hummed, a smug little smile making its way onto his face. “Good to know. That’s useful information.”
Eddie opened his mouth to sass back, not even sure what he was going to say, but wound up choking on a giggle as Steve moved down to his side, tracing around one of his newer tattoos, helping to cover the scars from the demobat attack.
Steve chuckled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “ Very ticklish, apparently.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Eddie replied, though it wasn’t very effective when he was stuck squirming and giggling from such a gentle touch.
He couldn’t help but wonder just how bad it would be when Steve finally got him for real.