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“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Eddie says, looking down at the jacket that Steve gave him when he showed up at the trailer.
“I’m not making you do anything,” Steve says with a snort. “You said you wanted to make up for how much of a dick you were to Sinclair before Spring Break.”
Eddie rolls his eyes even if he did say that. “Yeah, but I was thinking more like, letting him roll with advantage on our next campaign or something.”
“Supporting him during the first game of the season is better,” Steve says snobbishly.
And it might be. After all, the whole thing happened because of a basketball game.
But–
“Do I really have to wear this?” Eddie asks with a whiny tilt to his voice.
“Depends. Do you own anything green?” Steve throws back, his hands settling on his hips.
“No,” Eddie mumbles.
“Then yes.”
Throwing his head back, Eddie groans. “Steveeee, it’s your letterman jacket.”
“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. Doesn’t he get what Eddie is saying?
“It has your name on it.”
“I know.”
Eddie sighs, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Won’t it– it might make people think– you know–”
“What?”
“That you and I are– you know–” He sputters awkwardly.
“Yeah,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “So?”
“So?” Eddie repeats, baffled. “Do I need to remind you that we live in a small town with small-minded people that already hate me?”
Steve’s face softens at that. “Nothing’s gonna happen, Eds. Jason Carver is gone and the charges have been dropped and everyone will be focused on the game anyway.”
“Fine, let’s say no one tries to burn me at the stake, they still might think we’re together.”
“I don’t care.”
Eddie shuts down the little flutter he feels in his chest. Just because Steve doesn’t mind, it doesn’t mean that it’s something he wants. “That won’t exactly help you score any dates, man.”
“So?” Steve repeats, making Eddie roll his eyes.
“You’re being impossible, Stevie.”
“No, you are,” he says, grabbing the jacket from Eddie’s hands and pressing it against his chest. “Put this on and stop whining.”
Eddie glares at him half-heartedly. “This is going to ruin my reputation worse than the murder charges,” he says but dutifully shrugs the jacket on, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat when he smells Steve’s laundry detergent.
When he looks up, Steve is watching him with a weird expression that makes Eddie fidget. “That bad?” He asks jokingly.
Steve shakes his head, swallows thickly and averts his eyes. And people call Eddie weird. “You’re so dramatic. Come on, we’ll be late.”
And with that, he starts walking to his car. Eddie sighs and follows him. Sinclair better fucking appreciate this.
**
They arrive just as the game is about to start. The bleachers are packed, but Steve makes a beeline for the two spots that Max saved for them.
Clearly she didn’t believe that Eddie would actually show up because her eyes widen a little when she spots them. Then they dart down and her lips tug up into a smirk.
“What are you wearing?” She asks when Eddie flops down next to her.
“Nothing,” he mumbles.
"Is that Steve’s letterman jacket?”
“No,” Eddie lies through gritted teeth.
She sniggers. “You’re so lame, man.”
Eddie splutters indignantly. “Shut up! You’re wearing Sinclair’s jacket!”
Her cheeks pink up a bit, but she still acts smug when she says, “Yeah, because he’s my boyfriend. What’s your excuse?”
Eddie growls, which only makes her smile turn even more smug.
The game starts shortly after. A few minutes in, Sinclair glances in their direction and Eddie sees him make a double take when he spots Eddie. He smiles and waves and Eddie begrudgingly waves back even if he can’t help but feel a surge of affection for the kid.
“Told you he’d be happy to see you,” Steve whispers to him.
Eddie knocks their shoulders together. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Are you gonna explain to me what’s happening, big boy? Or are you just gonna act smug?”
Steve’s eyes sparkle and then he’s explaining basketball to Eddie with the same patience and enthusiasm that he has explained his campaigns or his books or his music. Eddie is instantly endeared.
He catches Max’s eye while Steve is going on and on about something called a ‘shooting guard’.
“Lame,” she mouths, probably because of how whipped Eddie looks right now.
He manages to flip her off without Steve noticing.
**
Near the end of the game, the two teams are tied and it’s up to Sinclair to score the winning shot.
Or at least that’s what Eddie gets from Steve’s hurried explanation.
Everyone at the gym watches with baited breath as Lucas prepares to make the shot. Even Eddie. Though in his case it’s not because he’s invested in the game, but because Steve’s hand is currently wrapped around his wrist, his thumb absently rubbing circles over Eddie’s pulse. Holy shit.
A whistle blows and the shot is made, but Eddie keeps his eyes on their hands, tucked into the space between their legs. Lucas must score, winning the game, because suddenly everyone around them jumps up and starts cheering and clapping.
That includes Steve, who drags Eddie to his feet with the hand that’s still holding Eddie’s.
When Steve finally lets go so he can join the celebration, it takes a moment for Eddie to remember how to move and when he starts clapping too, he can still feel the phantom press of Steve’s thumb against his pulse.
**
They take Max and Lucas out for ice cream after the game.
The kid is on cloud nine, recounting the game as if they didn’t just see him play it. When they drop him off, Lucas thanks Steve for the ride and Eddie for showing up, even if he knows just how painful it must’ve been for him to step foot in the gym.
When it’s Max’s turn, she makes sure to call Eddie ‘lame’ one last time before heading inside.
There’s no need for Steve to move the car with how close Max’s house is to the Munson’s trailer, but he insists on backing up and parking on Eddie’s driveway anyway.
“So what did you think?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Eddie mumbles, and looks up to find Steve smirking. “Don’t expect me to go to every game now, I still think people throwing balls at laundry baskets is stupid.”
“But I could talk you into coming to a few games at least?”
Steve could probably talk him into attending church, Eddie thinks. “Maybe,” he says.
His smirk turns into a lopsided grin that makes Eddie feel a little hot under the collar.
The collar of the letterman jacket he’s still wearing. Right.
“Anyway thanks for the ride. And for letting me wear this,” he says as he starts to shrug it off, but Steve stops him with a hand on his arm.
“Keep it,” he says, biting his bottom lip. “For the next game.”
“You know,” Eddie says, cocking his head and giving Steve a calculating look. “I saw a lot of people not wearing green at the game. Thought that was like, mandatory or something.”
“Uh, no but if you really wanted to show your support to Lucas then–” He trails off with a shrug.
“Mhm, but you know what I did see?” Eddie says, slowly starting to lean over the console. “A lot of girls wearing their boyfriends’ letterman jackets.” He lets his lips stretch into a grin and watches as Steve’s eyes dart down to his mouth. “Stevie?”
“Yeah?”
“Was that an excuse to get me to wear yours?”
Steve gulps guiltily. “Yeah. I don’t think I was ready for how it would make me feel, though.”
“How’s that?”
“Like this,” he says, grabbing the lapel of the jacket and pulling Eddie towards him, all but crashing their lips together.
Eddie makes a noise of surprise but wastes no time before cupping Steve’s cheek with his hand and kissing him back. He’s glad it’s late and the trailer park is quiet and empty so no one can see them making out.
They eventually pull away, both their lips red and slick with spit, and both stretched into a grin.
“I think I’m gonna have to wear this more often,” Eddie says, smoothing the jacket over his chest. “If that’s how it makes you feel.”
“I thought it was ruining your reputation,” Steve says with a snort.
Eddie laughs. “It is,” he says before fluttering his eyelashes at Steve. “But you’re worth it, sweetheart.”