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Steve looked down at his torso. His extremely exposed torso.
"Robin, what the hell did you do?"
Robin waved at him with the scissors in her left hand, right hand hovering in front of her eyes. "I got carried away. Now cover up. I can see your nipples, you slut."
Steve wrapped his arms around his chest, barely holding what was left of his tee shirt in place. "Well, whose fault is that?"
"Not mine," Robin said. "You wanted a crop top."
"For medical reasons, not for... this!"
The scars were healing, they really were. But they still felt... weird. After Steve finally got to take off the bandages all of his shirts chafed the new skin. Even his lightest tee shirts were irritating and the urge to scratch was unbearable.
So... he stopped wearing shirts. What did it matter. It was summer and it was his house. He could be topless if he wanted to.
Except the kids kept coming over. And their parents sometimes. And Steve was starting to get a little weirded out at how many people now had a full-on view of his naked torso.
"I thought the idea was to cover my nipples, Robs. When we had the Vecna victory party I felt like a piece of meat."
"It is not my fault you have a weirdly long torso, Steven."
"My torso is normal sized," Steve said, setting his hands on his hips. "Just admit you messed up."
"We both know I'm never going to do that," Robin replied, flatly. "Besides, look at the bright side."
"What bright side?"
"Well, Karen Wheeler isn't the only one that can't keep her eyes to herself."
Steve felt the flush spread from his face down his chest and his shirt was no coverage at all.
"It's not-- like, okay he's looking but it doesn't mean anything."
Robin leaned back, dropping the scissors on the floor next to her.
"Steven, as someone who has had a front row seat to this shitshow whether I wanted it or not, he is looking and it means a lot."
The thing is -- the thing is--
Eddie.
Eddie.
The front door slammed open and Dustin thundered into the house.
"Steve, where are you?"
"We're in the living room, Dingus Junior," Robin called back.
Steve searched the room for something to cover himself up, a blanket or even a throw pillow.
Dustin walked into the room and grinned. "Nice shirt, Steve."
"Yeah, Steve," Eddie echoed. "Nice shirt."
Steve hadn't heard Eddie come in, the amount of noise Dustin brought with him everywhere enough to cover up an army.
But there Eddie was, standing in the doorway. In a croptop of his own.
"Seems like you guys had the same idea," Robin muttered. She stood up and walked past Steve, snagging Dustin by the shoulder and dragging him out of the room in her wake.
"Looking good there, Harrington," Eddie said, his long fingers playing with the edge of his shirt.
"Yeah," Steve coughed. "You, um, you do. Too." He wrapped his arms around his torso, hoping to hold the edge of his own croptop down.
In contrast Eddie raised his hands and did a slow spin. "Never imagined I'd be the type but it suits me, I think. Shows off the ink, or what's left of it."
Eddie gestured to his sides and Steve gave himself permission to look.
Their scars weren't the same, not exactly. But they had been hurt together. Had healed together.
"You doing all right, Stevie," Eddie asked, moving closer. "Looking a little flushed there."
Steve looked up sharply to see Eddie's eyes only a few inches away.
Steve felt the urge to both lean forward and pull away.
"You know," Eddie said, softly. "You'll give a guy ideas, flashing your tits like that."
Steve snorted laughter. "Shut up, Robin cut it too short."
Eddie grinned, slow and sweet. "I'll write her a thank you card, then."
Steve's offended squawk is buried in Eddie's laugh as they share their first kiss.