Work Text:
By the time Steve finally collapses back onto the couch, he’s fucking exhausted.
His arms are scratched and his hands smell like pine and there are needles all stuck in his hair, but the tree is letting off a warm multi-colored glow that makes everything in the living room look gentler and sweeter.
He looks up when Eddie comes into the room from the kitchen, smiling at him with big soft eyes.
“It looks great,” he says, sinking down on the couch next to Steve. “Sorry I was… whatever about it earlier.”
“It’s okay,” Steve says. He accepts the glass that Eddie passes him and takes a sip of what turns out to be eggnog strong enough to strip paint. He coughs a little and gives him a sideways glance as he sets it down. “Worth the effort?”
They’d spent all afternoon on it: driving out to a tree farm and cutting it down, strapping it to the top of Steve’s little car and driving it home, wrestling it off the roof and into the house, struggling to get it to sit straight in its stand and then vacuuming up the fallen needles and decorating the stupid thing, all of which had eventually led to a pointless bickering fight which –
Eddie lets out a little breath, shoulders slumping. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely.”
“Good,” Steve says. He smiles a little as he leans back against the arm of the couch. “Then you’re forgiven for being a total Scrooge and trying to ruin Christmas.”
Eddie narrows his eyes. “Isn’t that the Grinch?”
“The Grinch steals Christmas,” Steve says. “Scrooge ruins it.”
“Oh right, the one with all the ghosts,” Eddie says. His eyes flash in the twinkling light coming from the tree. “That makes sense, actually.”
“You know, you’re not as spooky as you think you are,” Steve tells him. He takes another careful sip of the world’s strongest eggnog. “Anyway, he’s nice by the end, so.”
“And I’m very nice and very supportive of you erecting the desiccated corpse of a fir tree in the middle of our living room.” He pulls Steve’s feet into his lap. “Christmas is actually kind of badass when you think about it.”
Steve snorts. “Yeah, all the glitter and elves really drive it home.”
“Elves are very badass, actually,” Eddie says. He raises his eyebrows. “One ate Dustin at last week’s game. He had to roll a new character and everything.”
Steve hums, fighting back another smile. “Sounds pretty serious.”
“It was. Like – you don’t even know,” Eddie says. He widens his eyes. “There was a dark wood and a winding path and…”
And he’s off, describing in detail the campaign that they’d finished a few days ago. Steve feels the familiar twist of warmth run through him that always comes whenever Eddie says something especially lame, and he lets himself sink further back into the couch. Eddie’s words blur together and wash over him, and he nods along even though he doesn’t actually understand half of what he’s talking about.
He has a type, he’s realized, and that type is nerds. He’s fine with it.