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“Tom Cruise,” Steve comments. “Nice. Top Gun.” He does finger guns, then is immediately embarrassed by himself – how a man who’s never actually had any kids of his own is so dad-dorky defies understanding.
Gareth grins, tugging at the lapels of his flight suit, then returns the finger guns. Steve’s not going to tell Gareth that the reading glasses he needs these days kinda detract from the look. He already wants to gag every time he remembers that this Halloween party is 80’s themed – that they’re so far past the 80’s that it’s now a party theme.
“And you’re Bowie,” Gareth observes, nodding in approval. “I bet Eddie loves it.”
“I actually haven’t seen him yet – he had to work late tonight, but he should be here any minute.”
“What’s he coming as?” Jeff asks, joining them. He’s dressed as Miami Vice – a solid choice, but there’s like at least half a dozen of them kicking around this party.
“I actually don’t know,” Steve says, frowning. “He’s been very secretive about it.” It’s unusual; normally Steve can’t pay his boyfriend to keep a single thought to himself – not that he’d have it any other way. When Eddie and the boys are on tour and Steve can’t go for whatever reason, the peace and quiet of their house kills him. He’d much rather hear, “Sweetheart, look at this bug I found in your veggie patch, isn’t it freaky,” and “My darling, my love, light of my life, I may have accidentally…” and “Did you know that to create this sound effect travelling from the left ear to the right ear he–” than live without the noise and vigour and zest for life and overwhelming love that Eddie fills their house with.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” Frank – dressed as Indiana Jones – calls from across the packed living room, dragging someone by the wrist over to Steve, Gareth and Jeff.
It’s Eddie, finally arrived, and Eddie… Eddie is dressed as Steve. His hair, cut a few months ago in what Steve had thought at the time was just an innocent desire for change finally, is all thick, luscious waves to the nape of his neck, very reminiscent of Steve’s hair in the 80’s. He’s wearing Steve’s Wayfarers, and a polo shirt he must have hunted through the boxes in their attic for, the ones that neither of them have had the time or motivation to sort through in the six (Jesus) years they’ve been in their current house. But the pièce de résistance is the acid wash jeans that are sure doing something for Eddie’s long, lean legs and for Steve’s metaphorical Eddie-boner too. His mouth goes utterly dry.
“I feel like I’ve woken up in an upside down world,” Gareth says, laughing and embracing Eddie, oblivious to the way Eddie’s eye twitches at the words upside down. “Who knew you could jock?”
“It’s like a horror movie,” Frank teases, shooting Steve a shit-eating grin. They love their token jock, but they love hanging shit on him any chance they get more.
“Where’d you even find those?” Jeff says, gesturing at Eddie’s jeans.
“They’re Steve’s jeans! Genuine vintage article,” Eddie says, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. He does a little twirl on the spot.
“Vintage, ooh, ouch,” Frank says, elbowing Gareth, and raising an eyebrow at Steve.
Steve’s not listening. Doesn’t react. His throat is like the Sahara. His blood is racing in his veins. He’s about 35 seconds and a lapse in concentration away from popping a supremely awkward boner.
This is really doing it for him.
“Guys, we’ve lost Harrington,” Gareth notes, dissolving into laughter.
“We should go before we see something that’ll scar us for life,” Jeff says, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks. Frank’s holding him up, but he’s wheezing so hard they might all go down in a second.
Eddie puts his back to them, and his tongue appears, running along his bottom lip, and if they were home alone right now then Steve might have whimpered. Eddie’s smirking, because of course he knows every single one of Steve’s tells intimately, he knows how affected Steve is right now.
“What’s doing it for you, sweetheart, the you part or the me part?” Eddie asks, voice pitched low, practically purring.
“The you part,” Steve chokes out. “You look so hot, but…”
“But?”
“But normal you is so hot too, I don’t think I’ve ever been this torn and horny at the same time in my life.” It’s a devastating paradox. Steve might never recover.
Eddie laughs, pulling Steve in by his hips until they’re pressed close together. “You are the sweetest thing baby. This is a one night only bit. Usual programming resumes tomorrow, and I promise I won’t even turn into a pumpkin at midnight.” Eddie turns around, lifting his – Steve’s – Members Only jacket so Steve has a clear view of the seat of the jeans. “I don’t fill these out like you do, I wouldn’t dream of competing long-term.”
He shakes his hips a little to emphasise his point. Steve feels like one of those dogs whose bell has been rung. They’ve been together for thirteen years, it’s kind of insane that Eddie can still have this effect on him.
“Together for a decade and change and you’re about to start drooling like you’re fifteen, grow up, Harrington,” Frank teases loudly, pretending to gag. Jeff and Gareth quickly join the bit, drawing curious stares from party goers around them.
“Ignore them baby,” Eddie croons. “Wanna go find some dark closet and make out like we are fifteen?”
“I think we should just leave altogether,” Steve says, voice still hoarse. “We won’t be missed.”
“You won’t,” Gareth agrees cheerfully.
“Whatever you want,” Eddie says, brows waggling playfully.
Steve’s already dragging him to the door by the wrist, tossing a wave at their friends. “I want the jeans to stay on.”