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Steve’s still not used to having friends he doesn’t have to entertain. Eddie will just talk to him. Well more often Eddie will talk at him. Up on his perpetual lunch table even while he’s sitting on the roof of his new trailer and Steve’s his only audience member. He’ll ramble on passionately about his hatred of the man, his various campaign ideas to torture the party, his latest nerdy novel he’s reading, and countless other things. Steve doesn’t even pretend to mind anymore but he still makes fun of him sometimes, on principle, pretending he still has a reputation to protect.
Eddie’s quite the storyteller. The parts Steve understands are often interesting. And Eddie gets so excited when Steve pipes in with his opinions or asks him questions as they share a six pack or two. But mostly Steve just drinks his beer and listens. It’s pleasing to not have to impress anyone. It’s freeing to listen and learn but not have to already know. It’s nice to just laugh and be.
Today’s speech is regarding the best Ronnie James Dio songs to play at bars if the jukebox has them. Eddie’s propped on an elbow with one knee bent, the other stretched out beside Steve’s, waving his half full beer around dramatically with his free hand. Steve, several beers deep and lacking plenty of sleep, can’t remember the exhaustive list of songs that spans all of Dio’s bands and projects. He’s forgotten all but one; A Light in the Black. He’s played it at The Hideout for him more than Steve can count recalling a particular evening where a very buzzed Eddie gushed, ‘I gotta get my money’s worth Harrington! And this baby is over 8 minutes of pining and guitar!’
After chugging back the rest of his beer in a long gulp that Steve watches, Eddie fully sits up, groaning as his spine pops, diverting Steve’s eyes to the tantalizing glimpse of his scarred stomach as his shirt rides up with the long stretch. “Fuck I need a smoke,” Eddie bemoans.
“I’m sorry dude. That must suck.” He takes a long pull from his own beer. Neither of them has smoked since they got back from the Upside Down. But Eddie pats down his vest still searching anyway. “Dude we agreed to quit! You agreed we’d both quit! The doctors said it’s a miracle you’re even alive!” Steve snaps.
Eddie just rolls his eyes and pulls out a battered Marlboro box from within his vest. “What’re you my mother?”
Steve scowls. Even in the dark Steve can see the pack is filled with dark red cigarettes, looking nothing like any he’s ever seen before. Eddie plucks one out and brings it to his lips. He mimes lighting it and taking a long inhale before aggressively biting off a small hunk of it. He holds the rest between his fingers like it’s actually a cigarette while he chews, leaning back down onto his elbows.
He exhales exaggeratedly into the sky. “Really takes the edge off.” Steve stares at him, further arching a perplexed eyebrow, his beer poised halfway to his mouth in confusion. A small smile tugs at Eddie’s full lips, the corners of his mouth quirk up even as he tries to remain stoic for his delivery, “It’s a smoked meat stick, Harrington.” He takes another slow ‘drag’ and subsequent bite of what Steve now clearly clocks as a Slim Jim cut to the length of a cigarette.
Maybe he’s more buzzed than he thought because Steve loses it, full on cackling and clutching his side through tears at the absurdity. “Can I bum one?” he wheezes, knocking over his empty beer bottle.
Eddie’s fully grinning as he says, “If you can pull yourself together.” He takes another ‘drag.’ “Wouldn’t want you to choke if the smoke goes down the wrong pipe.” He chuckles, “Or die falling off my damn roof.” He yanks Steve by the shirt, pulling him closer and away from the trailer’s edge.
He tries to school himself, wiping his eyes, but he can’t fully stop himself from giggling, slightly hysterical as Eddie lets go of him. Steve hadn’t been in danger of falling. But now their thighs are pressed together and he can feel the heat from Eddie’s body. His polo is wrinkled and he can still feel the tingly phantom static where he felt Eddie’s knuckles through his clothes.
Holding the pack out to him, Steve shakily fishes one out. It’s indeed quite smoky and just a bit spicy on his tongue. Trying to quell the beating of his heart, with the meat stick bobbing between his lips, he cheekily says, “You got a light?”
Eddie leans over, cupping his hand around it as if he’s keeping the wind away before touching the tip of his smoky snack to Steve’s. Since he’d been ‘smoking’ his longer the two of them are not even 4” apart. Eddie’s calloused fingers graze his cheek. Steve shudders but not from the crisp night air. Eddie’s denim vest still smells like smoke, cigarettes and weed alike, even though he hasn’t smoked in months. The stale aroma should be gross but somehow mixed with Eddie’s cologne and just a hint of his sweat, it’s not. It’s musky and masculine and okay maybe it is still gross but it’s gross in a way that really appeals to Steve’s feral side.
The shadows from sleep deprivation under Eddie’s dark eyes are oddly sultry in the moonlight as his gaze flicks back up to Steve’s. He pulls back, smiling wide and open having shared his joke and placebo coping mechanism with him.
Steve leans into the smoking gag harder than strictly necessary, sucking in and releasing shuddery breaths. He stares at the older man as Eddie takes his final ‘drag,’ pinching the last bite as if it were the dregs of a dying roach and he’s trying to get the last puff. Steve swallows, watching his mouth as Eddie works his lips repeatedly in the shape of an O as he mimes blowing smoke rings into the night.
Eddie pops the last of it into his mouth, catching him ogling as he chews. “It’s okay to be impressed by my skills.” He winks at Steve and mimics flicking the imaginary butt off the roof.
Chewing his own bite softly, Steve smiles and nods, hoping it’s not obvious how flushed and flustered he is because apparently this kind of goofy, grungy idiocy does it for him. Because apparently this goofy, grungy idiot really does it for him. Steve’s not ready to do anything just now, but later? Oh, he’s definitely thinking about later.