Eddie had, indeed, come over after dinner, staying for a movie and some beers, and had even slept over. Wayne was at work and Chrissy was with her family. When his people were gone, Eddie opted to stay with Steve and Robin, even if the couch was a freebie from the side of the road and smelled like dust and mold no matter how much chemical freshener they sprayed on it. Eddie swore that he didn't mind the smell or the lumps in the stuffing or the way springs like to pop out and stab some unsuspecting occupant. He always smiled as Steve or Robin handed him a blanket and cited something like it's easier to sleep with other people around. Steve couldn't even blame him, however much it made him feel like the most pathetic "plan B". Most times, just having Robin across the hall in her room made Steve's own nightmares so much less vivid.
Even so, there were some nights when they fell into one bed or the other together, clinging to each other as the trembling and the tears died away and sleep finally overtook them. Sometimes Robin would sing to him, her voice trembling over the words as she tried so hard to be brave. Other times Steve would recount stupid stories from his boyhood as he ignored the twisting shadows in the room because he needed to be the brave one that night.
Even the kids sometimes ended up at the apartment, sleeping in various configurations on the floor. Tall, lanky teenagers readying themselves for college and the working world, but trembling together against the night and the monsters that they all knew hid within. It made Steve ache as much as it made him swell. There were all together, still, after so much time and loss. But it hadn't been nearly enough time and there had been so much loss and they were all so young. He and Robin were so young.
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that everyone Steve knew and loved was so good and yet they had all suffered so much and no matter how much Steve wanted to open up heads and uncross wires to make it all better he couldn't. His best friend, his kids, all of them exactly equal portions of everything, and Steve couldn't protect them from their own fear. Their own trauma. Their own personal hells. All he could do was put on a stupid movie for them, or tell them a stupid story, and hold them all so close until the sun rose and proved to them one more time that they made it through another night.
This time, when the sun rose with all of the sherbet-colored hues of spring, Steve was covered in a layer of cold sweat, but he had the good fortune to not remember the dream that had caused it. It was the best he could hope for.
"Robin," he muttered, rapping his knuckles against her door as he passed. "Rise from your grave, Robin."
He heard shifting from inside and a low, sleep-muffled groan.
"You've got half an hour until the bathroom is clear."
It had ended up taking Steve forty-five minutes as opposed to the promised thirty, even with Robin pounding on the door at the half-hour mark to berate him about using all the hot water and taking too much time on his "precious hair." But the hot spray of water had felt so good and it chased away the last shadows of his nightmares along with the slight chill left in his bones from the early spring morning. When he opened the door, Robin nearly pulled him out herself, hissing that she needed to pee, and slammed the door very much on his literal ass.
Steve laughed despite the ever-so-slight bite of irritation, his whole chest warming at the way her hair stuck out at odd angles and her voice was still rough with sleep. She still had a crease from the pillowcase crossing the length of her cheek and Steve wanted to give it the loudest, most obnoxious smooch he could manage. Because she was his best friend, his greatest love, and his most trusted confidant. Because they had made it through another night.
And didn't that warrant a little bit of celebration?
In the living room, Eddie was curled up and facing the back cushions of the couch, snoring lightly. He must run hot, because though Steve was still sleeping in sweats and long sleeves and waking with slightly frost-bitten toes, Eddie had stripped down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a pile under the coffee table -- Steve supposed that was his own way of keeping a space that was not his as neat as possible. And not only had he done that, but he had also kicked the blanket supplied to him the night before down around his ankles.
And it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair because Steve's hand was still so warm from when Billy had put his over it and now all Steve wanted to do was take that warm hand and press it into Eddie's sternum as he curled around the other man's back. It wasn't fair because Eddie had these infuriating dimples on either side of the base of his spine that looked like they'd be the perfect size for Steve to press his thumbs into. Or his tongue. It wasn't fair because there was a line of baby-fine hair that ran from Eddie's lower back down below his boxers and Steve wanted to know how soft it really was. It wasn't fair because Steve slept so cold, even in the blazing heat of summer, and Eddie would be so warm against him, he just knew it.
Steve swallowed once, coughed as though to crowd out the intrusive thoughts with sound, and made his way over to the couch. Eddie inhaled deeply for a moment and Steve stood, waiting almost, stuck somewhere between hoping Eddie would wake up to Steve watching him and willing Eddie back to sleep because Steve wasn't done watching him yet. Eddie let the shuddering breath back out, almost like he was in pain, and Steve's heart clenched. He wanted... he wanted...
Dear god, he wanted.
He wanted to untangle the knots in Eddie's hair. He wanted to wake him from whatever nightmares hitched his breath with a gentle hand down his spine. He wanted to press his lips to his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, whatever hurt and make it all better. He wanted to crowd against Eddie and make sure that he never had nightmares ever again because there'd be no space for them between his own body and Billy's...
The thought ran cold in his blood. It wasn't the first time something like that had cept past his defenses. No. The first time had been when Billy first started pushing his buttons at the cafe. When Steve had wondered if he stood even half a chance if it were Billy and Eddie prodding at him at the same time. He'd frozen then too. Clammed up and turned away to hide the coloring of his cheeks, only tossing responces over his shoulder until Billy finally sighed and left.
And he knew he was being greedy but he couldn't help himself. Couldn't help that the first man he'd ever noticed in any way but passing and one of the bravest men he'd ever known was back and liked to lean on the counter of the cafe where he worked like a predator. Couldn't help that the other bravest man he'd ever known and the first man he'd ever thought about kissing was also back and was making a habit of crawling to his apartment when there was nowhere else to turn from the pain and the fear.
Couldn't help that he wanted them both within arms reach in case...
In case...
In the end, Steve settled for draping the blanket that Eddie had kicked away back over his sleeping form. Because there was still frost at the very edges of the windows and Eddie was trembling.
"For your modesty, dude," Steve whispered, allowing himself to squeeze Eddie's shoulder as though that was any substitution for whatever else drifted through Steve's mind. A groan from the sleeping man, one not of irritation but of recognition, signaled his slow and groggy resurgence into the waking world. He dug his face further into the cushions, as though physically chasing sleep, and curled up further into the blanket, long fingers rising to clutch at the edges. Steve allowed himself only one indulgent second to watch as Eddie rose from sleep before he retreated, turning his back to go about his morning routine.
"Aww, Stevie," Eddie murmured through sleep-dry lips, his shoulders flexing as his body awoke with his mouth, "the little things you remember about me."
His voice was low and scratched at Steve's brain in a way that set him deliciously on edge, like long, ringed fingers at the base of his skull.
"Didn't mean to wake you," Steve deflected, ducking into the kitchen to grab a breakfast he and Robin could eat in the car. Behind him, Steve could hear Eddie rolling over, groaning as his muscles woke up. He could hear joints, still for the last seven hours, pop and crack as Eddie flexed and bent them. He groaned as he sat up, and Steve knew he was stretching his body out languidly against the back of the couch. Steve looked pointedly away as he arched his back and pressed his torso out, curving like a crescent moon. He'd seen it before, much to his everlasting chagrin. He'd watched Eddie's head falling back against the back of the couch to expose the whole long line of his throat. He'd watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and his voice worked itself awake. And then he'd watched as Eddie slumped forward, the points of his spine sticking out as he curved over his own lap, his arms crossed over his knees.
"I thought you had closing shifts during the week," Eddie finally rasped, falling back against the couch with a heavy sigh. Steve glanced over his shoulder just in time to see him settle back in, his legs spread in a wide V, his arms stretched out over the back, his head still fallen back. Steve's lips suddenly felt so dry as he traced the long line of the man in the semi-light of the morning.
Steve opened his mouth to answer, but Eddie clicked his fingers as he remembered, "Wait, it's Thursday. You're doing a double. Are you sure that you're down to host dinner tonight given the hours you have today?"
"Sure, why not," Steve asked with a shrug, taking more care than necessary in picking out a yogurt cup for Robin's breakfast and packing it into a little brown bag with her name written neatly on the front. Next to him, the toaster popped his own breakfast up, and Steve took the same unnecessary care in slathering the toast with peanut butter.
"Well, it's a lot to do, man."
Eddie's voice was approaching alongside the sound of shuffling steps. Eddie wasn't coordinated at the best of times, but it seemed like he lost the ability to differentiate between limbs and the rest of the world before he had coffee. He could hear him knocking his knees into the coffee table in front of the couch, causing him to grunt in irritation. Eddie made the same sound when his shoulder caught on a corner that he turned too tight. Steve looked up as he entered the kitchen, his eyes bleary and his hair a knotted mess that he was trying to undo with his fingers. If the wince was any indication, it wasn't working.
"Can I borrow your brush again, dude," he asked around a yawn as he began filling and starting both the coffee maker and the electric tea kettle.
"If you clean it back out this time. I don't want to see your ratted mess in the bristles again."
They both laughed, the sound quiet with sleep and reverence for the early morning tranquility that surrounded them. The hum of Robin's shower was the only other sound in the world until the coffee maker gurgled to life. Impatient as always, Eddie put a mug under the drip in place of the pot. He waited with his back to the counter, leaning lazily with his arms akimbo, resting palms down against the surface. It was a physical battle for Steve not to reach out and run his hand across Eddie's bare midriff, scratching his blunt fingernails into the trail of hair that went from his navel down below his boxers. It wouldn't be a sexual touch, but a grounding one. One that would make Eddie hum with a lazy smile, content in the knowledge that Steve knew he was there and wanted him to stay that way.
Maybe Eddie would even lean over and kiss him, his hand resting on Steve's to stop whatever action he was currently engaged in. Steve imagined he'd want all of Steve's focus on him when he kissed him.
As Steve set to work packing the lunches, he could feel the weight of Eddie's gaze on him. It was a comfortable thing, like a hand on his shoulder or the back of his neck. Eddie was always watching people, and Steve loved the feeling of the razor's edge of his perception as Eddie dragged it along his body, searching for something he wouldn't divulge no matter how much Steve pressed.
So he stopped pressing about a week ago. He stopped pressing and just enjoyed the feeling of Eddie's eyes on him, falling into the trap of pretending for a second that this was what blissful domesticity was with Eddie. That this was their daily routine. That Eddie actually did wake up hot next to Steve with his side of the blankets kicked off. That they actually did move about the tiny kitchen in sync. That their hands always brushed together as they worked.
"Seriously, dude," Eddie finally pressed again, passing a mug of coffee tinted ever so slightly with milk over to Steve. When had he learned how Steve took his coffee? "You've got a long day. We can reschedule dinner, Chrissy'll understand, and you already know that I do too."
Chrissy's name and the sound of the tea kettle broke through Steve's daydream, and he hid the slight downturn of his lips around the lip of his mug. God, Eddie always made his coffee so perfectly. Better than he could do himself.
It wasn't fair.
"We're ordering a pizza, man," Steve chuckled around his coffee mug as Eddie reached across him to grab Robin's tea. When had he learned that Robin preferred tea over coffee in the morning?
As he reached, his back to the counter, Steve caught the scent of his sleep-warmed skin, slowly cooling as he meandered through the morning. Eddie angled his head to duck below Steve's, but his hair tickled his nose as he leaned in close, and Steve chanced a small inhale, disguised as a breath, to take in the scent of lingering Old Spice and something that smelled suspiciously of Herbal Essences.
"And not even good pizza," Steve continued as Eddie pulled away, depositing the teabag into the to-go cup of hot water and leaning back against the counter. "It's not from a real pizzeria. It's going to be Pizza Hut and maybe I'll spring for some kind of dessert. It won't be that big of a deal."
"I mean... still..." Eddie's voice was muffled by his own mug. Steve glanced over to see him bent over it almost in prayer, the dark curtain of his hair obscuring his features. He drank long and deep, and Steve wondered if his throat and mouth burned from the pull. When he leaned back, however, he was smiling. Behind him, the coffee dripped steadily into the glass pot, finally back in place now that the first mugs of coffee were distributed alongside a to-go cup of tea for Robin because coffee made her heart beat funny and she didn't like it. He'd even pulled the honey down from the cabinet because Robin preferred that to sugar.
When had he learned that Robin preferred honey over sugar?
Something in Steve flushed again as Eddie went back to nearly worshipping his own cup of coffee. Eddie had made not only Steve's drink, but was also making Robin's to their own tastes. He'd been watching them. Observing them. Learning them. Something crashed over Steve at that moment and it felt like when Nancy ordered food for him because she knew how he liked it. Or when Jonathan called because something he saw reminded him of something Steve had said a week ago. Or when one of the kids brought him this or that or something else because it reminded them of Steve.
There wasn't a word for it beyond love, but it felt somehow deeper than that. A deep, abiding, and objectively terrifying feeling filled Steve as he realized that Eddie was slowly learning the ins and outs of the people he was reuniting with. It mingled with swelling of pride in his chest that the people around him were so smart and so attentive and a swirl of doubt asking do I really deserve this sweetness?
"Nice morning," Eddie muttered, pushing his voice through the haze of Steve's thoughts. He was smiling, but it wasn't the toothy, dimpled expression that bespoke mischief. It was soft and lopsided, and Steve realized that he'd been staring.
"Too nice a morning to be thinking as hard as you are, Big Boy," he finished with a light nudge of his shoulder against Steve's. A deeply fraternal gesture and it made something soft and sweet bloom in his chest. Something rose-colored that sounded like belonging and Steve held on to it with both hands.
Eddie knew he was spiraling, even if it was a small one. He'd bumped into Steve because he knew a surefire way to snap him out of it was physical contact. He teased him lightly because he knew Steve liked the safety of banter, but also knew that he needed to be gentle with Steve when he was so close to the edge.
And Steve didn't even know when Eddie had learned that.
"Right," Steve agreed around a huffed-out laugh. "Suppose I'm too pretty to think that hard anyway."
"Now, I didn't say that."
It was so simple an answer, but Eddie had said it with such finality. There was such solidity in his voice that it almost had its own gravitational pull. And Eddie had said it while looking down into his mug, gently blowing the steam away, but it almost sent Steve flying sideways. The only thing that had kept him upright at all was the pull that Eddie's voice still had, even when he was silent.
"Ah, well... whatever you say, man," was the only lame response Steve could come up with.
"What did they tell you?"
Another question murmured over the rim of a mug and through a gentle exhalation, but it echoed in Steve's mind like an alarm. He glanced over at Eddie who still wasn't looking at him, at least not really. His eyes were heavily lidded, still only half awake, but they had slid over to regard Steve with far more scrutiny than his posture betrayed. And then he blinked and his eyes were back on his coffee as he lowered the mug to his bare sternum and pressed it there.
"Um... they? Who they?"
Steve's voice sounded pathetic and high in his own ears and he winced at the pitch of his own anxious timbre. Eddie, having none of that, rolled his head over to his shoulder and regarded Steve with a slight frown and his brows pinched into a serious little line above his dark eyes. He said nothing, but gave no ground, no matter how much Steve sputtered and chuckled without mirth and tried to evade the question.
Finally, Steve relented, heaving a sigh despite the sinking feeling in his chest.
"It's nothing, dude. Just shit my dad would tell me, you know? There's gotta be something under all that hair, stuff like that. Innocuous, really."
Steve put all his focus on what he was scribbling down on the sticky note in front of him. But even with that, he could still feel the razor-thin scrape of Eddie's scalpel against his skin. It itched, all of the sudden, as Eddie prodded him, searching for a place to slip his blade and peel away Steve's skin to peer beneath.
"I mean... yeah... sure... girls have said things like I'm lucky I'm pretty. But that doesn't mean anything. And Nancy used to pat my cheek when I made mistakes but she was just... was just trying to be supportive." Steve was shrugging after almost every word, and the pitch of his voice kept getting higher, and he wanted to shut up but he couldn't.
"Mom used to call me a handsome man. A pretty man. A beautiful man. Never like... a capable man or a smart man or even... even just her son. Never called me her son. Just called me pretty, like a bracelet or a ring or something but that's just how she is, you know? I guess you don't know. But it's how she is."
"Hey, Steve?" Eddie's voice was a low, sleepy rumble that scratched at the base of Steve's skull again, but it pushed through the static of Steve's frenetic explanation of... of... what had he even been trying to explain? What had been his point? He gazed down at his pen, poised over the dotted "i" in the middle of some horrible chicken-based pun for Robin's lunch note, and wondered what he'd been so adamant about.
"What's innocuous mean?"
"Harmless."
It happened so fast. It had seemed like nothing, a question, and Steve, ever ready to provide, gave an answer. But Eddie read. He read like he was starving, and how could he not know what "innocuous" meant? As though in answer, Eddie chuckled and Steve whipped his head to see him set his mug down and shuffle closer to Steve, not stopping until the whole line of his body was pressed against Steve's own.
Steve was right. The man did run hot. Even through the material of his sweats and henly, Steve could feel Eddie's skin searing into his. If Eddie heard the hitch in Steve's breathing, then he gave no notice, resuming his original posture against the counter.
"You, Steve Harrington," Eddie murmured as he leaned back, forcing himself into Steve's field of vision, "are the total package. You're pretty, sure. But you knew that. You've got mirrors." Eddie shrugged like it wasn't the biggest deal in the world that he'd just called Steve beautiful. Like it didn't stop his heart mid-beat and send every thought screeching to a halt.
Everyone called Steve pretty.
But then Eddie said it and the meaning of the word changed.
"But with guts to spare, because I've never seen anyone as eager to run directly into shit as you are. As for brains... you know school's all... bullshit, right? It's all," Eddie raised a hand and made some vague gesture in the air before the both of them and blew a raspberry. Spittle hit Steve's cheek, causing him to jerk away with a surprised cry that mingled with an affectionate laugh.
"School doesn't matter. But I've seen you battle plan under more pressure than most actual soldiers get put under. Because they don't have to keep six little terrorists alive while beating back the bad guys who, by the way, aren't even from this dimension. You molotoved a dark wizard, dude!"
Eddie jostled Steve with his shoulder, and Steve failed to bite back the smile that bloomed under the rose color he knew was spilling over his cheeks.
"And don't... dude, don't even get me started on your social intelligence." Eddie whistled out a breath, his eyebrows in his hairline, almost like he was impressed. "Dude I've seen you walk into a room, read it, and then," he clicked his fingers. "Change the vibe with almost no effort. But... do you know what I find most..."
Eddie paused to moisten his lips, almost searching for a word as his eyes scraped over Steve's face. Steve shivered under his gaze again, trying to will the blood from his cheeks and from between his legs.
What I find most...
Attractive? Steve's heart clenched.
"Admirable?"
Oh.
"This." Eddie reached across and tapped his index and middle finger against Steve's pectoral.
"My... my chest hair?"
"No! I mean yeah. That too. I can't grow hair for shit unless it's on my head. Most I get on my face is stubble." Eddie rubbed his chin absently and Steve wondered what Eddie would look like with a dusting of dark stubble across his jaw.
"But no. What I find most admirable is your heart, Stevie. I have never seen anyone love as many people as much as you do. I mean look at you, dude." Eddie gestured to the note, still half-finished in Steve's hands. "If the next thing you write is the word tease and this note to Robin says enjoy your chicken strip tease I'm throwing you out of your own apartment. But look at how much you love her. It made you a sap, dude. And I don't know about you, but I think being able to take care of people is way more valuable than knowing when the Battle of Waterloo happened."
They stayed like that for a moment, Steve's pen still poised over a dumb joke that didn't feel nearly as important as when he'd begun writing, with Eddie's hand flattened over his heart. The same heart that was beating itself against the cage of Steve's ribs like it was trying to bust out and curl into the palm of Eddie's hand. Could Eddie feel it thrumming, wild with the simple, almost intimate touching? Steve could nearly see his own pulse with the way his vision swam at the edges when his heartbeat.
Robin's shower shutting off broke the spell and Eddie dropped his hand from Steve's skin, leaving a burn in the shape of his own palm branded into Steve's chest. It matched the one on the back of his hand from Billy, and Steve unconsciously pressed that hand to where Eddie had been touching.
"You've gotta be nicer to yourself, man," Eddie reinforced with a rough slap on the back of Steve's shoulder. Down the hall, Steve could hear Robin rushing through her morning routine. He winced, knowing full well that her rush was his fault, and packed her an extra chicken finger and a larger helping of cottage cheese to make up for his greed in the bathroom.
"So anyway," Eddie sing-songed, retreating back to his original position and draining his mug of coffee. "Dinner. We don't have to.
"It's fine," Steve insisted, quickly finishing the joke despite Eddie's threat of eviction before he deposited it into Robin's bag and carefully folded the tops down to seal them with a short length of scotch tape. "I'll see you then. Around 7?"
"Chrissy and I will be there with bells."
There was relief in Eddie's voice that softened the blow that Chrissy's name always dealt Steve. He tried to cling to that relief, to the idea that Eddie didn't really want to move dinner around. That he wanted to be in Steve's hair for an evening.
He wants you to get to know his girlfriend, something cruel and horrible whispered to him.
Steve ignored that voice and the sudden feeling of Eddie's eyes on him yet again as he lined the bagged lunches up on the edge of the counter with the freshly filled water bottles and Robin's tea, easy to grab as he and Robin left. Down the hall, Robin was muttering about having lost her apron, and Steve had opened his mouth to call out that she'd left it in the living room when Eddie swooped in, grabbing Robin's lunch off the counter.
"You're thinking too hard again, Harrington," He nearly sang, tracing Robin's name with his index finger almost affectionately, "And I told you it was too nice a morning to be muddling it with worry. So, while we're on the subject of your tireless doting, let's talk about these lunches instead of whatever is twisting you up into a knot." Steve lunged to grab the bag back, but Eddie all but danced away, peering up at Steve from his lashes before deftly flicking the tape off to peer inside.
"Look at you, Stevie. A regular Mrs. Beaver," he cooed, rummaging in the sack despite Steve chasing after him. Eddie only swerved deftly out of the way, swiveling his hips infuriatingly to dodge Steve's grasping hands.
"Did you pre-slice the apple?" The gasp in his voice was dramatized, over-acted, and deeply Eddie, making Steve smile despite the incredulous sound he made.
"Yeah, I don't like the way that the skin sometimes gets caught in my teeth, and Robin won't eat it unless it's sliced." He reached out to snatch the bag back but Eddie dodged him again with a little pirouette, crossing into the living room and stepping over the coffee table with those spider-long legs.
"Goldfish, Stevie?"
"Yeah, they're Robin's favorite! What does it even matter, Munson," Steve grunted as Eddie put Steve at his back, defending against him as though they were on the basketball court rather than his living room. Steve reached around Eddie, but the other man only batted his hand away with his forearm. Steve attempted from the other side, but got much the same treatment, this time with the added bonus of a bony elbow wedged into his guts.
"So domestic, Stevie," Eddie nearly trilled with glee, "might just get you a little apron to go with that homemaking you've got going on."
At that, Steve froze. He didn't know why he froze. But he did. And it was stupid because he wore an apron almost every day at work. Eddie had seen him in his apron at work, but this was different and Steve knew it because Eddie wasn't talking about the heavy canvas utility apron that was part of Steve's uniform. He hadn't said it, but Eddie meant something else. Eddie had connoted something else. And so, Steve froze, and his heart hit the floor, and his face got hot, and worst of all Eddie had noticed. Eddie had noticed after a moment of continuing to block after Steve's advances had stopped and turned, his brows furrowed in concern.
And then he smiled.
Eddie smiled and it was unctuous and oily and sly and wicked and Steve wanted to bathe in it. It sent a shiver down his spine and that shiver settled firmly between his legs and wouldn't leave no matter how much he willed it to. His face got hotter as Eddie's eyebrows rose to his hairline and he began his approach, his head lolling to the side as though that offered a better vantage from which to stalk Steve.
And he was stalking Steve.
It was a slow thing, Eddie's advance, with long, measured strides. It was slow and Steve knew Eddie was giving him time to duck and swerve away if he wanted, but the way Eddie was looking at Steve had him anchored right in front of him. All Steve could do was retreat in equal measure, his hands coming up to his chest in a placating manner, but Eddie didn't seem to care.
"Oh, Stevie," his almost purred, eyes dancing. "Oh Stevie, don't tell me you like that idea."
"No, I..." Steve was cut off as his back hit the wall. He glanced behind him, as though not believing that it was there, and realized his mistake too late. In the time Steve did not have his eyes on Eddie, the other man had quickened his pace and was now crowded into his personal space. He'd gotten so close in the blink of an eye that Steve's fingertips brushed the skin of Eddie's pectoral muscles, shooting fireworks down his arms. The sensation physically shocked him and he jumped, swiveling his hands out to his shoulders and away from the approaching man because if there was one thing Steve was not going to do he was not going to feel up Eddie Munson.
Which, of course, not only defeated the purpose of having his hands up at all but also gave Eddie more wicked ideas. And Steve knew they were wicked because of the way Eddie smiled and it was all dimples and teeth and the faintest tip of his tongue.
What was with Steve's taste in men and their stupid fucking tongues?
"Maybe I should tell Billy to get you one with all that lace and frill on it," Eddie almost crooned, wrapping his hands around Steve's elbow, squeezing gently before he ran his hands up his arms. goosebumps followed in the wake of his too-hot palms, and Steve's pupils blew wide open. Eddie's blew wide open as he watched them, leaning in as though he could scent the tumult of emotions rolling off of Steve's skin.
Eddie tangled his fingers in Steve's and pressed the backs of his hands against the wall. Another thrill shot through Steve's body and settled in his growing arousal. Eddie was so close, he had to notice, right? He was practically one long line of lean muscle against Steve, pressing him further into the wall, there was no way he didn't notice. And then how would Steve explain himself, how would he explain to his friend because he couldn't blame Eddie for doing what Eddie did. Eddie did what he did and the rest of them did what they could about it. It was an unspoken rule. And yet, here he was, desperately fighting the swelling between his legs and... wait.
Wait...
Wait...
Eddie rolled his hips he rolled his hips into Steve's as he suggested, "Maybe he'll even let me see, yeah?"
Steve swallowed around a knot and Eddie glanced down at his throat.
He was smiling. It was all teeth. It was a threat.
"Billy..." Steve almost groaned, his hips moving without his knowledge or consent into Eddie's pressing.
"Took my suggestion to heart," Eddie supplied against the shell of Steve's ear. "comes over now and again for a beer or a smoke. And boy is he taken with you, Big Boy. Won't shut up about that little game you play at the cafe. How pretty you are when you blush." Eddie leaned back to knock their noses together. "And he's right. You are so pretty when you blush."
"Billy and I aren't..." defined. And it's so complicated.
"I'm not..." sure what I want from anyone, much less Billy Hargrove.
"We're just..." fucking around. No big deal.
But Steve never finished any of those sentences. He couldn't. His mind was too clouded over because Eddie was still pressed against Steve from nose to toe and his hips were still rolling and Billy Hargrove was talking about him. Billy Hargrove had said he was pretty and even though Steve loathed it when people talked about his looks anymore, it was different when Eddie and Billy said it because... because...
"You..." Eddie breathed when Steve's words landed against him, "you might want to clear all that up with him, then, Sugar."
And then he was gone. He was gone and Steve was so cold all of the sudden.
Robin's bedroom door opened and Eddie ducked away, resealing and depositing Robin's lunch back where it belonged as he went back to leaning against the counter, this time facing the wall. Steve took a deep lungful of air and steadied himself for a moment, dizzy from the sudden rush of cool air and the lack of Eddie's scent around him.
"There's my apron! Steve, why didn't you say something?!" Robin snatched the garment from the arm of the loveseat and shook it in his face, nearly singing, "Let's go, dingus," effectively dragging Steve from his stupor. "Main Street Cafe isn't going to open itself." She breezed by the kitchen, grabbing her lunch and her tea in the process, and easily shot back at Eddie, "you know the drill, Munson, lock up when you leave."
Eddie grunted his answer, feigning lingering sleepiness as Robin passed him. When Steve passed, Eddie didn't spare him a glance, instead furrowing his brows into the now-empty mug of coffee. Steve felt somehow colder for that as he followed Robin out the door and to the car in relative silence.
"What's with the blush," Robin asked almost as an afterthought as she buckled herself in
"Eddie is trying to kill me," Steve ground out as he pulled out of the lot and made his way to work.