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Steve stood in front of the closet mirror, tilting his head slightly as he adjusted his coach’s cap. The light blue of the uniform suited him—he’d always thought so—and the white lines running down the sleeves and sides gave him a sporty look he liked. The open jacket revealed a simple T-shirt underneath, nothing flashy, nothing that screamed ‘look at me,’ but it was his uniform, the one he’d been given on his first day at the Hawkins elementary school baseball field, the one he’d worn ever since.
Every little fray in the fabric, every loose thread at the edges, told a story of training afternoons, of kids laughing as they learned to bat, of small victories that tasted like glory. He liked that uniform, he liked what it stood for.
But something was missing.
Something was always missing.
Steve sighed, twisting his torso a little to see himself in profile. Maybe it was the way the jacket fell over his shoulders, or how the cap hid too much of his hair, or the belt he never quite liked. He didn’t know. It was a lingering feeling, a prickle at the nape of his neck whispering that the reflection in the mirror was incomplete, that some detail kept slipping through his fingers like water.
He’d been feeling it for months, ever since he started working as a coach, though at first he’d put it down to new-job nerves. Then he’d thought he’d get used to it, that the feeling would fade once the uniform became a second skin, but it hadn’t. Every morning, as he got dressed, the same thought: something’s missing, something’s missing, something’s missing.
And it wasn’t the whistle, because the whistle was hanging around his neck that very moment, swaying with every movement. It wasn’t the sneakers, immaculate and double-knotted as always. It wasn’t the training plan tucked into his back pocket, nor the car keys jingling on the dresser. It was something else. Something invisible, intangible, but heavy.
"Damn it," he muttered to himself, planting his hands on his hips and huffing in frustration.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. He had plenty of time before he had to leave—maybe twenty minutes—and he was grateful not to have to rush. He hated hurried mornings, half-chewed breakfasts, the race to get there before the kids started arriving at the field. He preferred the calm, the quiet ritual of getting ready, the scent of coffee brewing from the kitchen, the certainty that everything was in order.
And yet, that feeling of incompleteness soured the moment. He adjusted his cap once more, tugging the brim down, and just then he felt a pair of large, warm hands settle on his hips.
The touch was so sudden that for a second Steve went rigid, his fingers still on the brim and his eyes finding the reflection of the intruder approaching from behind in the mirror. But the shock dissolved immediately, because he recognized those hands, and he recognized the scent that reached him a moment later—that smell of coffee, old leather, and a faint trace of grass that always heralded Eddie’s arrival.
Eddie Munson, his husband.
The Alpha pressed up against his back unhurriedly, as if he had all the time in the world, and his hands began to move over Steve’s hips with a gentleness that contrasted with the calluses on his guitarist’s fingers. He caressed the sides, sliding up and down slowly, kneading the fabric with a familiarity that tickled Steve’s skin even through the clothes. Then, he felt Eddie’s nose bury itself in the curve of his neck, right where his Omega scent was strongest, right where his pulse beat steady but strong. Eddie inhaled deeply, letting out a sigh that raised the hairs on Steve’s nape.
"Good morning, gorgeous," Eddie said, his voice husky with sleep, wrapped in a tenderness that never stopped surprising Steve. The Alpha’s hands slid forward, wrapping completely around his waist, and Eddie rested his chin on his shoulder to look at their reflection in the mirror. "Do you know how beautiful you look in this uniform? It should be illegal for a guy like you to be out there coaching kids. The poor parents won’t be able to concentrate."
Steve let out a soft laugh, relaxing shoulders he hadn’t even realized were tense. He rested his hands over Eddie’s and let his head fall to one side, offering more space for the Alpha to keep scenting and rubbing his nose against the sensitive skin.
"Don’t be silly," he replied, though his smile gave away how much he’d liked the compliment. "It’s just a normal uniform. Boring, even. Nothing special about it."
"Mmmm," Eddie hummed against his neck, pressing a soft kiss just below his ear. His fingers drummed on Steve’s stomach, then slid back up to his hips, stroking in circles. "I disagree, it looks spectacular on you. But…" He paused dramatically, lifting his head and gently turning Steve around so he could face him. His dark eyes traveled over the uniform from top to bottom with a mock air of a fashion critic. "It’s missing something."
Steve’s heart clenched. How was it possible that Eddie knew? That he’d pinpointed exactly what Steve had been feeling for months without being able to name? He blinked, confused and expectant, as Eddie released his hips and took a step back, taking one of his hands with delicate care.
"Eddie, what are you doing?" Steve asked, though he didn’t resist. He let the Alpha lift his left hand, let him hold it in the air between them as if it were something valuable.
"Giving you what’s missing, love," Eddie replied, and with his free hand he reached into the pocket of his pajama pants. It took a second, fingers searching, until he pulled out a small, shiny object and held it up to the morning light. It was a ring—silver, simple but beautiful, with a soft shine that cast tiny glimmers on the bedroom walls.
The wedding ring. The same ring Eddie had slipped onto Steve’s finger that day at the courthouse, just a few weeks ago, with trembling hands and a smile so wide it looked like his face might split in two.
Steve felt his breath catch in his throat. He looked at the ring, then at Eddie, then back at the ring. The light from the window caressed the silver, giving it an almost magical tone, and for a moment everything else disappeared: the room, the uniform, the clock ticking away the minutes before he had to leave. It was just the two of them, and that small circle of metal that meant everything.
"You’ve been pacing around all morning," Eddie continued, his voice losing its playful note and growing deeper. "I saw you looking at yourself in the mirror, fixing your cap, huffing like a bull. And then I noticed your hand, and… there was the problem. You take your ring off to sleep, sweetheart, and then in the mornings you always forget to put it back on. But not today, today I took care of it."
Without taking his eyes off Steve’s, Eddie placed the ring at the tip of his ring finger. He slid it on slowly, millimeter by millimeter, as if he were officiating a private, intimate ceremony that belonged only to them. The silver was cool to the touch but warmed immediately upon contact with his skin, and when the ring was finally in place—snug and perfect—Steve let out a small gasp.
There it was, right there. That was what he’d been missing.
"Look," Eddie whispered, still holding his hand. He extended his own and placed it beside Steve’s, palm to palm but with their fingers raised, as if they were swearing an oath. On his ring finger gleamed an identical ring, the partner to the one now adorning Steve’s hand. "Now we’re both complete. You in your spectacular uniform, me in my horrible Batman pajamas, but both of us with our rings. That’s how it should always be."
Steve fell silent. Not because he had nothing to say, but because he had too much. Words crowded his mouth, mingling with the emotions surging up from his chest in warm waves. He looked at the ring on his finger, turned it a little with his thumb, and felt the light but so meaningful weight now anchoring him to the world. The uniform was no longer just any uniform. Now it was his uniform, the one he wore as Eddie Munson’s husband, the baseball coach married to the most incredible, extravagant, wonderful Alpha that could ever exist.
The perfect accessory wasn’t a new whistle, or a different belt, or a trendier cap. It was that ring. It was the visible proof of what they had built together, of what they were still building every day.
"God, Eddie," he finally managed, and his voice came out a little shaky, a little cracked with emotion. He turned around, facing his husband, and before he could think twice he wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him.
It was a different kiss from the ones they usually shared in the mornings. Not quick, not mechanical, not stolen between yawns and hurry. It was a sweet kiss, full of gratitude and love. Steve felt Eddie’s lips beneath his, soft and familiar, and he melted against the Alpha’s body as if the whole weight of the morning had vanished in an instant. Eddie let out a small sound of surprise, but his arms immediately wrapped around Steve’s back and pulled him close, holding him tight. The coach’s cap fell to the floor with a dull thud, but neither of them cared.
When they finally pulled apart, Steve rested his forehead against Eddie’s and closed his eyes. His Omega scent, sweet and warm, filled the room with a fragrance of happiness so pure that anyone could almost taste it in the air. Eddie’s scent, earthier and deeper, tangled with it in an invisible dance, creating a perfect blend that smelled like home.
"Thanks," Steve said, stroking the nape of Eddie’s neck with his fingers, playing with the unruly strands of his dark hair. "Thanks for finding the perfect accessory for my uniform. I spent months thinking something was missing, months, and I couldn’t figure out what, and you… you just walk in and solve it in two seconds. I don’t know how you do it."
Eddie laughed softly, the sound vibrating against Steve’s chest.
"It’s my job as your husband,” he joked, though his eyes shone with absolute sincerity. “Spotting wardrobe deficiencies for the love of my life, Harrington."
"Munson," Steve corrected, opening his eyes and pulling his head back to look at him properly. "I’m a Munson now, Eddie. And you’re my Alpha."
Something in Eddie’s expression softened even further at those words. His hands slid from Steve’s back down to his hips and squeezed gently, as if he wanted to make sure Steve was really there, in his arms, wearing his ring and saying his name.
"Steve Munson," Eddie blurted, savoring the syllables. "That sounds good, that sounds really good. Do you know how happy you make me, huh? I see you in that uniform, ready to go teach the kids, with your cap and your whistle and now your ring, and I feel like I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I plan to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it."
Steve felt his eyes sting, but he blinked quickly to hold back the tears. It wasn’t the time to cry; he had to go to work. But his heart was beating so hard he was sure Eddie could hear it—could feel it through the chest where they were pressed together.
"I’m also the luckiest guy in the world," he replied, and his voice came out steadier than he’d expected. "When I started this job, I didn’t know if I’d stay. It was a temporary gig, something to pay the bills while I figured out what to do with my life. But then I realized I loved it, that I wanted to keep doing this. And then you came along, and we started dating, and everything got better, so much better than I ever imagined. Marrying you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. There were no doubts. No fears. Just… you and me, and now this."
He lifted his left hand, showing the ring gleaming in the sunlight. Eddie mimicked the gesture, their fingers meeting in the air.
"And now this," the Alpha confirmed. "One ring to rule them all."
Steve burst out laughing, breaking the emotional tension of the moment.
"Idiot. You’re such an idiot, quoting Tolkien at seven in the morning."
"Well, it’s my duty as a nerd," Eddie replied, shrugging with a mischievous smile. "Someone has to keep the cultural standard in this house. You just teach baseball."
"I teach baseball to kids, which is harder than reading books about elves and magic rings."
"Touché."
They stayed wrapped up in each other a while longer, swaying slowly in the middle of the room. The clock kept ticking, but Steve wasn’t in a hurry. Eddie didn’t seem to be either. The Alpha’s hands kept stroking his hips, his sides, his back, in a steady rhythm that soothed and excited him in equal measure.
Every now and then, Eddie would tilt his head to brush the tip of his nose against Steve’s cheek, or kiss his temple, or murmur meaningless words against his skin. And Steve let himself be held, let himself be loved, with his eyes closed and a peace that enveloped him completely.
"I love you," Eddie whispered, so softly that the words were almost carried away by the breeze. "I love you so much, Steve. I never get tired of saying it."
"And I love you too," Steve answered, tightening the embrace. "More than I can explain."
Finally, Eddie took a step back, picked the cap up from the floor, and placed it carefully on Steve’s head, adjusting it as if it were a crown.
"You’re all set now, Coach," he announced solemnly. "Now you’re truly not missing anything. Ring, cap, whistle, and the unconditional love of your Alpha, who’ll be waiting for you right here when you get back, with dinner ready."
Steve looked at himself in the mirror once more. The same light blue jacket, the same white lines, the same pants, the same cap. But everything was different. The ring shone on his finger like a beacon, completing the uniform—completing him. The feeling that something was missing had vanished entirely, and in its place there was only a warmth that coursed through his body from head to toe.
"Perfect," he said, and this time the word wasn’t a question, or a doubt. It was a certainty.
He walked toward the bedroom door, but before leaving he turned back to Eddie, who was watching him, leaning against the closet frame with his arms crossed and a goofy smile.
"Hey," Steve called. "Tonight, when I get back, will you help me take off the uniform in bed?"
Eddie raised an eyebrow, and his smile turned wolfish.
"It would be my pleasure, husband of mine."
Steve laughed, shaking his head, and left the room with a light heart and the ring shining on his hand. The scent of freshly brewed coffee led him to the kitchen, where he filled a thermos to take with him, and as he closed the front door he heard Eddie shout from the bedroom:
"Give those little squirts hell, Munson! Teach ’em to hit like champions!"
And Steve knew, with absolute certainty, that this was going to be a good day. Because his uniform was complete, because Eddie was home, because the ring on his finger meant he wasn’t alone anymore, and that he’d never be again.