Billy and I aren't...
I'm not...
We're just...
The inside of Eddie's head had been a pinball machine stuck on go from the moment Steve had left for work that morning. His final broken sentences had formed three little steel balls that ricocheted around Eddie's mind, setting off alarm bells and flashing lights, denting the inside of his skull whenever they made an impact. They made Eddie cringe when he remembered them, when he remembered how they had sounded falling from Steve's lips. How they had sounded so confused. So... desperate. A cadence that, under any other circumstances, would have sounded so pretty in Steve's voice but at that moment... at that moment it had made Eddie run cold.
They sounded like rejection.
Rejection of both him AND Billy.
Wasn't that just a complicated thought that uncovered all kinds of gross things in Eddie's already frazzled mind? Because Eddie would have to be a grade A idiot to now know Billy's feelings for Steve. Billy hadn't so much as said that he was smitten with Little Lord Harrington, but there was enough in his words to make that out. Billy was lovesick and giggling. Giggling. Actually fucking giggling over some of the shit Steve said at the cafe. And knowing that laid a whole new layer of shame over his already insurmountable regret over his behavior. It made his stomach sour because he was doing every terrible thing everyone who had even heard the word polyamorous or pensexual had ever thought. He was slutting himself around, throwing himself at every pretty thing that looked at him. He was inconsiderate of the boundaries of others.
Even when he knew he knew Billy was totally fucking gone for Steve, he'd still thrown himself, dick first, at Steve. And Billy was just starting to warm up to Eddie too, coming over after work and for a few hours on his days off. Shooting the shit outside, leaning on the hood of his car like a god damned model and Eddie did not have time to process that one. Not now at least, while his standing with Steve was so in the air... and now so was his standing with Billy because he couldn't very well not tell Billy that he was as gone for Steve as Billy was at this point.
Or maybe he could.
Maybe Eddie could bundle that up in a little black handkerchief and tuck it away in his back pocket, like a dollar bill long forgotten in a wallet. Maybe he could set it aside and forget it. Let Billy have one god damned win because he deserved it, and not just because he was also a Hero of Hawkins. He deserved it because he was a god damned human person who hadn't had enough wins in life to count all the way up on one hand.
Yeah, Eddie could do that. He could not tell Billy what he did because it was only once, and then safely pack the memory and his stupid crush away in a box under all of the litter in his brain until...
Until...
No, no until. No hope. Just bury it, forget it, and be done.
But forgetting was easier said than done, especially when Steve's words were shooting around his head at top speed, creating little silver blurs as they passed. They kept evading his grasp as he tried to grab them and fling them out of his head. But they kept whizzing passed his outstretched hands, knocking painfully against his knuckles when Eddie got too close to them and causing him to draw back. And as they zoomed, they kept doing what they did, reminding him of his achingly humiliating faux pax until all he could do was stand in the middle of his bedroom in his only pair of unripped jeans, covering his face like a school girl as he tried -- and failed -- to forget the single most embarrassing moment of his new life.
God, he'd been so stupid. So caught up in what Billy kept saying about Steve that he'd completely forgotten to read the signs himself. He knew better than to trust anyone else's account of anything. He was smarter than that. Wayne had made sure he was smarter than that but he was just so...
Stupid.
Hopeful something else within him supplied.
Eddie nearly choked on the bitter tang of the word.
The thing was, Billy wasn't stupid either. He couldn't have afforded to be. No one else at Hawkins High was able to put two and two together, but Eddie had been given enough soft tissue bruising by his own old man and had spent enough time posturing to know a battered kid when he saw one. And as a battered kid, Billy knew how to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open. He knew when someone was feeding him bullshit lip service and when it was genuine. He knew better than to accept anything at face value and he knew that he had to analyze everything to absolute death before he made any moves or choices. That was how kids like them survived.
Maybe that was why Eddie trusted him as a source. Because Billy had eyes. Gorgeous eyes. Sharp eyes. If Steve was feeding him lines, Hargrove would know it.
But he'd forgotten to factor in the changes that he'd seen in Billy since he'd been back. He was different now. He was... softer. Still scared as hell, but slower to fight than Eddie had ever seen him. Maybe he'd gotten soft, his sharp edges dulled to something less threatening. Maybe he'd come back from a place where he'd never been sharpened at all. And maybe all that softness had made room for Billy to let himself be hopeful too. Maybe he was hopeful because Billy had been such a lonely boy, even surrounded as he was by lackeys and admirers. Hopeful because when Billy thought no one else was watching, Eddie was, and he would watch the other boy put down that heavy stone mask and Eddie could see how lonely he was.
And he was still lonely. That didn't just magically go away the same way things like scars and broken bones seemed to have vanished. It was just that Billy used to crumple all that loneliness into a ball and overhand chucked it around like a rock through a window. He used to smear it all over himself like warpaint and rub it in the eyes of anyone who got too close. But this time around he wasn't doing that. He was holding all that loneliness in the palm of his hand and just... staring at it. And then, when Billy slunk over to Wayne's trailer after work, lukewarm coffee in his hand, and flopped down on Eddie's couch or his bed or the floor next to him he would hold out that open palm for Eddie to see. And he'd let Eddie push that tangle of feelings around in his palm, let him poke at it and turn it over without question. Without hesitation. Like he was coming to Eddie and asking what do you make of all this? And when Eddie could only shrug because he had a very similar tangled mess in the palm of his own hand, Billy just... just shrugged back like alright then and went back to his investigations.
So, maybe Billy really did believe himself when he said that Steve kept meeting him pass for pass. Word for word. Touch for touch. Maybe he had believed himself when he said that Steve gave just as good as he got. And boy, had Eddie reveled in Hargrove's descriptions of Steve's generosity. Of course, Billy would believe that Steve was just as taken with him as he was with Steve. That was what hope did. It made people into believers, even when every survival instinct was screaming at them to run. And of course, Eddie took everything Billy was saying at face value, even though he knew better. There was that same bubble of hope living inside Eddie's chest as there was in Billy's. Hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to untangle that horrible mess that they both carried around.
And Eddie you won't believe this, but because my hands were so covered in grease from the shop, Steve took that little chunk of muffin and put it on my tongue himself. I honestly didn't think he'd do it but... god damn.
Eddie could feel his ears heating up as he remembered that morning again. Remembered touching Steve's chest again. Remembered rolling against his hips.
Again.
Yeah. Eddie had spent most of the day rattling around his uncle's new trailer -- which was shaping up to be remarkably similar to his old trailor, much to Eddie's relief -- vacillating between reliving that morning's conversation over and over. And over.
And over.
And wondering just how deep in the shit he and Billy really were.
Because gods be damned if Eddie didn't remember, somewhere below all of that shame and guilt, how fucking good Steve Harrington had looked. How his shower-warm skin was still rosy and soft-looking and Eddie just wanted to touch it to see if it was as butter-smooth as he thought it was. How pretty he looked, flushed and cornered.
How good he'd smelled. Like soap and hairspray and deodorant. His breath had been a heady mix of mint and coffee that Eddie wanted to lick out of his mouth. Steve didn't wear cologne anymore, and Eddie was thankful for it, enabling him to pull in lungfuls of the scent of Steve's skin.
How good he felt. How fast his heart was beating under that oatmeal-colored henly and Eddie couldn't help but wonder if it was the coffee or him that had done that. How that long, lean line of his body -- the body of a retired athlete -- had felt pressed against him in their game of keep-away. How Steve had mirrored Eddie's own aching want as Eddie surged against him, pushing and pulling like a tide as he pressed Steve against the wall.
Billy and I aren't... together. That same dangerous bubble of hope had soared in Eddie's chest as Steve began stammering under the press of Eddie's body.
I'm not... gay. Followed by crushing, agonizing disappointment. Of course, he wasn't. Not King Steve, who had his pick of any girl for as long as Eddie could remember. Who had Nancy Wheeler who was, by all metrics and measures, perfect, just like Steve.
We're just... friends. Yeah, friends. Billy was going to be heartbroken, and that twisted something painful inside of Eddie. Billy had been all smiles for weeks, Steve's name hanging off of his lips like a piercing. He needed to know, but he couldn't stand the thought of the gloom that truth would bring.
Then explain his reaction to you something sly and desperately hopeful whispered into Eddie's ear. And he responded with a resigned biology because sensation was sensation and sometimes people were helpless to their reactions to certain things. He'd bullied his way into Steve's personal space and drawn that bodily response out of him, after misconstruing every signal Steve had sent his way. Eddie had even said it himself. Steve was a man who cared so much about everyone around him... of course, he was soft and sweet with Eddie. He was soft and sweet with everyone, kissing Robin and Nancy on both cheeks. Holding Jonathan and Argyle close for longer than most men would deem necessary. Nudging and ruffling the kids playfully and drawing them in for paternal embraces whenever they were in arms reach. Even pressing kisses into the crowns of their heads when he was feeling particularly soft with them.
Yeah.
Yeah, he was stupid. He'd been telling himself that all day, and even his Sweetheart singing so nicely under his hands nor the finest strain of nerve-deadening herbal therapy couldn't draw him out of the half-humiliated-half-heartbroken slump that he'd fallen ass first into.
And this internal self-mutilation was made all the worse, as of the last hour, by the ever-looming dinner party at The Harrington-Buckley estate that evening.
The sunset hung low in the sky and Eddie had pawed through his meager closet and strewn everything around his room and still could settle on nothing to wear. And it was stupid, and he knew it was stupid, because he'd eaten dinner at their apartment a million times since he'd been back, but this was different.
Different because Eddie had to prove to Steve that Eddie was still... Eddie. That he wasn't... unsafe. He had to make sure that Steve knew that despite his egregious overstepping of boundaries that morning, nothing had changed between them. Or at least he'd hoped that they hadn't. Because if Steve felt like he couldn't be left alone around him anymore, Eddie would never forgive himself. If this one lapse in Eddie's better judgment resulted in Steve forever distancing himself...
God, that would kill Eddie.
And as if that wasn't enough, as if that wasn't piling pressure on Eddie's ribcage so heavily that he was worried it'd collapse under the weight, it was different because Chrissy was going to be there. She was going to be there and she was going to be all bouncy blonde curls and glossed lips and perfect white tennis shoes and Eddie had to represent her well or else... or else...
Or else...
Eddie paused with an age-softened Iron Maiden shirt in his hands and stared down at the fabric like it would provide any answers. It didn't of course, the black fabric held its silence as all inanimate objects did, and Eddie was left to ponder all of these terrible things by himself. He ran his thumbs over the collar, lost in his thoughts as they swirled around his addled brain. Distantly, something in his mind knew that his appearance wouldn't affect the Party's acceptance of Chrissy. He knew they were better than that. He knew they valued character over stupid things like looks, because look at him. He was a mess, and while he would never call himself integral to the group, he at least held some importance.
But there was still that terrible, childish thing inside of him that worried. Worried that if he didn't look good enough, then they'd never take his opinion of Chrissy seriously. They'd never believe him when he explained how perfect she was all over because how can a man who looks so disheveled hold any authority over what is and is not beautiful? Then how would he convince them to like her as much as Eddie liked her?
Convince Steve to like her as much as Eddie liked her.
Eddie hadn't missed the way Steve winced whenever Eddie had said her name. He hadn't missed the tight-lipped smiles whenever she came up in conversation. He hadn't missed how every time Steve's expression soured at Chrissy's name, it turned Eddie's stomach over in something sharper than disappointment. He hadn't missed how Steve kept Eddie running between deep and abiding affection for the other man and territorial defense of the girl, made all of more confusing when Eddie found himself spiraling head over heels in love with both of them.
God, Eddie was an idiot.
A hopeful, smitten, blind idiot.
"I'd appreciate you not talking about my boyfriend like that," a voice from behind Eddie chimed, piercing through the haze of his own self-deprecation with ringing clarity. He swung around to catch the slender girl in his arms as she launched herself at him, folding himself easily over her slighter figure before he swung her around. The ringing peels of her laughter chased away any lingering fog that might have been clinging to Eddie, leaving room for him to breathe in the scent of her skin, her shampoo, her perfume.
Floral and floral and floral and Chrissy.
"God, I missed you today," Eddie all but gushed into her shoulder, supporting her weight as she stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. She was so small, so barbie-slender and delicate that it made Eddie want to fold himself around her forever like a protective leather-and-denim carapace.
"It's only been a day, Eddie, you can't have missed me that much," she chided gently but betrayed herself in the way she clung to him when he pulled back, stepping up onto his booted feet instead of allowing him to leave her embrace. And so, he relented to her and lifted his head from her shoulder in order to pull her in all the closer, sealing them together from crown to toe as he swayed and stepped her around his room in a dance that would suffice for a middle school gym, but nothing more.
"I missed you too," she confessed against his dimpled cheek. The glossy mark she left behind felt unctuous on his skin and he would leave it there until it dried as a happy, shiny brand of Chrissy Cunningham's affections. It would linger, he knew, long after the heat of her lips died away. Long after the electricity of her touch faded. He never wiped away the sometimes-tinted, always-glossy prints of Chrissy's lips, wearing them until they faded and she branded him anew.
"And I'm so excited for tonight," she finished, stepping off of his boots. Eddie watched her smile turn into a concerned little frown as she seemingly finally noticed the state of his room, and he had to resist the urge to kiss that frown away, even if she was wearing his favorite cherry-flavored lip gloss.
And even if the sight of his favorite cherry-flavored lip gloss, gently tinting Chrissy's lips in the faintest hue of kiss-swollen pink, reminded him of how much he liked licking it off her lips.
"Eddie," she shrieked around the kiss Eddie pressed to her lips anyway, knowing full well that he was smearing it across her mouth. And across her jaw. And down her neck.
"Eddie, you said yourself we needed to be ready to go when I got here and you're still shirtless!"
"Then maybe we should be matching," he muttered against her collarbone, lapping at a smear of cherry lip gloss as he pulled her baby pink jumper out of the waistband of her jeans. More laughter as she pushed against him and he relented once more. Always once more. Always Chrissy pushed one more time and Eddie fell again, this time down to sit on his bed as she tucked her jumper back into her light-wash jeans.
"I'm putting my foot down on this one, Edward," she scolded him, the smallest hint of a smile betraying her tone. He straightened his back in response, schooling his expression into one of mock seriousness as she spoke. "We need to leave in the next 60 seconds. I want to make a good impression on my potential sibling spouse."
Sibling spouse.
A term Chrissy had assigned to Steve without the other man's knowledge and Eddie just knew Steve would hate it, but that made him smile all the more. Because he could just picture Steve's pretty little pout, stamping his foot, mirroring Chrissy at that moment (because damned if Eddie didn't have a fucking type), at the term and insisting that there had to be something else he could be called.
Before, the term would have sent Eddit's heart to fluttering happily, but this time his heart fell back to the soles of his feet.
"Yeah..." Eddie slumped forward, rubbing the back of his neck as the suffocating shame from that morning crept back into his chest. "About that..."
Chrissy's expression fell and Eddie's heart sunk lower. She'd probably been the only one more excited about Steve the Eddie was, coaching him through what to say and how to act for weeks leading up to this. She'd been so excited for Eddie. So excited for Eddie to add another person to his growing list of affections. So excited to meet Steve and befriend him, tied to him in the knowledge that Eddie was so fond of them both. And he'd gone and blown it.
"Oh, Eddie," she whispered, pushing herself against him as he sat on his bed, folding his head into her chest with gentle hands. "Eddie, Eddie, oh, Eddie."
It had been the same string of words she'd whimpered breathlessly a little over 24 hours ago, but now Eddie hated how sad they sounded, falling from her lips like pity instead of honey. But still, when she tucked his head into her sternum, he relented. Once more, he relented, coiling his arms around her waist to hide in the scent and feeling of her around him.
"I thought you were waiting until you talked to Billy first to ask," she cooed softly, running her perfectly manicured fingernails through his hair and over his scalp. It made him shiver, the pleasant sensation shimmering down his spine to rest at the base, hot and cold at the same time. It soothed him, even just marginally. In return, he rubbed small circles into her back, nuzzling his way deeper into her chest as though he could curl up in her ribs, curled around her heart, and hide from Steve forever.
"I was but... he said..."
Eddie trailed off, and Chrissy let him for a moment, breathing deep and even. She let him search for words and fail, lulled by the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She sprayed her perfume at her sternum, he knew this from being in this exact position over and over again. And just like all of those other times, he wondered if she didn't spray it at her sternum because she knew she'd tuck Eddie's nose into it to soothe whatever ache had befallen him. And it did. Between the way her fingernails scratched his scalp and the scent of her skin and perfume, Eddie could feel himself calming back down.
It was another meditative moment before she gently tugged on a small handful of hair. He propped his chin on her breastbone and sighed.
"He said that he's not... on my team... strictly speaking."
Chrissy was quiet for a long time, and Eddie could feel her searching his eyes for more. More context. More information. More of an idea of what transpired. She waited, her fingernails still dragging across his scalp. She was pushing.
And once more, Eddie relented.
"I... mentioned how much Billy talks about him, you know. Just to get a feel for if he's actually interested in Hargrove or just messing around before I talked to Billy at all and Steve said that... he and Billy aren't together, which is... you know... it is what it is... but then he said he wasn't... into guys... so..."
Chrissy was still silent, and her fingernails had stilled, paused mid-stroke against the crown of his head, but she wasn't pushing. She was processing. Eddie could see wheels turning and information zipping around in her perfect, clear eyes before she spoke, asking, "he said those words?"
"Umm..." Eddie floundered, shocked by the gravity of her voice. It was only barely a question, the way she sounded. It made him question himself. Had Steve said those words? Had he? Looking back he could see Steve's mouth shaping around whole sentences, but suddenly... did he really remember that?
"Eddie," Chrissy pressed, gently shaking Eddie's head by the fistful of hair she still held, "Did you ask Steve if he was into guys? And did Steve say that he wasn't? In clear terms?"
Eddie opened and closed his mouth before he finally broke Chrissy's gaze, suddenly entirely unsure of his own memory.
"Oh, Eddie," she sighed, "my poor Eddie."
And he buried his face again, coiling his arms tighter around her as he searched his memory for something solid, something that he was sure he'd heard and witnessed and found only smoke. There were things Steve said that he knew he'd heard him say.
Good to see you again, man.
Of course, you didn't fail. You were supremely stupid, but you didn't fail.
My hero too.
Want me to lick it first?
Yeah, I... I guess I wanted a piece of you with me.
You weren't... you're not just sandbags.
But anything from that day, from that specific conversation... had Steve said anything at all?
Once more, hope -- dangerous, treacherous hope -- fluttered its wings against Eddie's insides, fluffing itself back up to slowly take up more and more space. Because no... now that Eddie really looked back at the day... Steve hadn't said that... had he? No he hadn't. Steve had started three different sentences, but he hadn't finished a single one.
"Do you want to call Steve," Chrissy asked, releasing the small fistful of hair she'd been holding. "Tell him that you're not feeling well? Or that I'm not feeling well?"
Eddie felt himself falling again. Always once more, falling for Chrissy.
"No," Eddie sighed, drying his eyes of the moisture that had accumulated there. "No, I'll be okay. I'll just... I'll stick to the plan. I'll talk to Hargrove next time he's over..."
"To tell him what happened between you and Steve," and it wasn't a question. Eddie winced up at Chrissy but her lips were in a thin line and he knew that there wasn't going to be a whole lot of room for argument. Mostly because he knew that she was right. As much as he wanted to pretend that that morning didn't happen, Hargrove was going to find out. And if he didn't find out from Eddie right away, then it really would fracture whatever fragile friendship they were building. At least if he told Hargrove himself, Eddie had a chance to repair things.
"And... and tell Hargrove what happened..." he finally acquiesced with a nod. Chrissy's fingers were back in his hair, untangling the knots her little fist had woven at the back of his head, and it did a little bit to ease his growing anxiety.
"And when everything is alright there -- "
"When," Chirssy cut him off with a firmness in her voice that she seemed to only reserve for Eddie when he was in one of his moods.
"We have no way of knowing -- "
"When."
"Okay. Fine. When everything is alright there, ask him if he and Steve are a thing. If they aren't, fine. If they are..." He trailed off and Chrissy picked up, "If they are we go from there."
"Yeah, we go from there..." Eddie parrotted, nodding as though the motion would solidify his own understanding of the plan they had both laid down weeks ago.
"One step at a time, Eddie."
"One step at a time." He was still nodding, still repeating Chrissy like a child as he reorganized and reassessed his understanding.
"And then," Chrissy went on, "if that is cleared, then talk to Steve again."
"Yeah. Talk to Steve again. Make sure I'm not dry-humping him when we talk."
Eddie hadn't realized what he'd said until he said it, and humiliation washed back over him anew. Chrissy's face flushed with pink and then her expression changed from one of concern to absolute glee.
"You were what?" There was another peel of laughter in Chrissy's voice, her head falling backward with the force of her mirth. Eddie made to hide from it again, burrowing back into her chest once more like he could escape into her chest cavity.
"Chris, please," he groaned, voice muffled by the thick wool of her sweater. "I'm upset enough."
"Well, no wonder you can't remember if he said anything," she managed to choke out around laughter. "Neither of you had any blood left in your brains!"
"If you like me half as much as you say you do, you'll stop teasing me."
This time, Chrissy pulled his face out of her sweater and considered him for a long moment before bending down to press one final kiss into his lips before she wiggled from his grasp. He let her escape, because of course he did. Chrissy pushed and, just like always, Eddie relented. Even if relenting meant letting her go.
"I suppose," Chrissy sighed as she meandered over to a pile of shirts, turning her back to him cocking one of her little hips out to the side in a way that made Eddie shift to make room for himself in his jeans. "You've probably punished yourself enough, haven't you, Eddie Baby?"
"Truly I have, Sweet Angel," Eddie assured her, watching as she bent over. And sure, it was to dig around for a few seconds, but she had to be doing that on purpose, right? And where on god's good green earth had a girl like Chrissy learned to present herself like that in the first place, because this wasn't even close to the first time she'd done that.
Chrissy peeked at Eddie over her shoulder, cute little ass still fully in the air, and she grinned at him. This time Eddie had to manually adjust his jeans, reaching inside to move his slowly filling dick into a less painful position.
"Absolutely prostrated myself all day," He went on, not even bothering to hide the predatory timber in his voice. When Chrissy made a small sound of understanding, Eddie pressed, "maybe you'd like to see? Wanna watch how I laid myself out in my sorrow?" As though to make his own point, Eddie leaned back on his elbows to nearly lay on his bed.
And for a second, Chrissy sounded like she was considering it. She stood and turned to him, a wadded up tee shirt in her hands, and wagged her head from one side to the other, seeming to give Eddie's offer real thought. She was, however, betrayed by the smile that she was biting down.
"And I expect you'll also want me to... make you feel better," she asked, rising to straddle Eddie's hips.
"I could use a little sugar to help heal, yeah." Eddie's hands rose as he spoke, settling on the soft rise of Chrissy's hips like they belonged there. She let the weight of his hands press her down, settling herself with a small wiggle of her hips that drew a groan from the back of Eddie's throat. Just like when she bent over, Chrissy knew what she was doing. She knew what buttons she was pressing with those sweet little fingers. She knew, as she wiggled her hips left and right, exactly what Eddie would feel. She knew that, even through two layers of denim, Eddie could feel her parting herself around the ridge of his erection. She made another small sound of consideration as she leaned forward, the drag between her legs from the motion not nearly enough, causing Eddie to grind up without thinking.
"As nice as that sounds," Chrissy whispered against Eddie's parted lips, "I'd much rather watch you get dressed and drive me to dinner."
And then she was gone, leaving nothing but a ball of fabric on Eddie's chest. She was backing away, her hands clasped behind her back because she was perfect and she knew how wonderfully that pushed out her chest and she knew what that did to Eddie and Eddie's stupid hindbrain kicked in like it always did and rocketed him up onto his legs to chase her with a growl. She met his snapping jaws with a sugary grin, cupping his flushed face in her cool hands. She brushed their noses together in the most infuriatingly chaste and impossibly endearing way, ignoring the way Eddie pawed at her hips and waist. She even had the audacity to giggle at him and oh she was going to get it after dinner.
"And if you're good tonight," and wasn't she just such a presumptuous little thing? "I'll watch you self-flagellate to your heart's content, and when you're done, I'll gladly nurse your sweet little wounds." The condescension dripping from her words sent shockwaves up and down Eddie's spine, made his hands itch to grab her and toss her back down, made him want to remind her which one of them had to be good in this arrangement.
Eddie growled again as Chrissy took another step back, reached into her back pocket, and made sure Eddie watched every single stroke of her lip gloss reapplication. And then she rubbed her lips together, spreading the sticky layer of gloss as she winked at Eddie and that was exactly all he could take.
"You... you expect me to leave like this?" And Eddie didn't even bother to keep the incredulity out of his voice as he shamelessly gestured to the tent in his jeans. Chrissy only grinned and nodded, finally turning away while tossing, "I'll be in your van," over her shoulder, leaving Eddie painfully hard and absolutely full of plans to set his sweet little angel back on her straight and narrow when they got back from dinner.
Eddie deserved a fucking medal for getting rid of his hard-on by the time he arrived with Chrissy at Steve and Robin's apartment, especially with the way Chrissy's hand rested high on his thigh, squeezing now and again like he'd ever forget that she was there.