#but im deaf.

[kitcheninaman]

being a musician and doing a music course despite being hard of hearing is all fun and games until you're hard of hearing and can't actually do some of the coursework you need to do for your music course .

[wrr000]

[mtsodie]

Show me the pathetic wet man (Kallamar), pretty please? 🥺

the slayer

[the-ace-with-spades]

Someone posted about Jake having a sister who is deaf and uses ASL (I can't find it, sorry) and it woke up the fic idea I had some time ago from hibernation

An AU where shortly after Carole's death, Bradley starts losing his hearing. At first, Mav thinks it's just a lack of focus and him being inside his head too much (which, normal given the mourning/depressive state of Bradley's emotions at the time). But then he and Ice notice it only happens when they're on his right side and start to get worried.

A visit with a family doctor and a visit with an audiologist later, and they find out his hearing loss is expected to progress, they just don't know how far — it can stay mild, it can get worse over the years, or it can get worse quickly. It's probably been happening for some time already, they might have not noticed because so much was happening (which Mav will forever feel guilty about).

Mav and Ice are left to explain all that this implies to Bradley. Mainly that Bradley will never be able to become a pilot with hearing loss, even if it stays mild. And even at thirteen, almost fourteen, all he's always wanted to be was a pilot and they have to break the news to him — even if his hearing doesn't get worse, he won't be able to join the Navy in any deployable role.

Obviously, it doesn't go well. Bradley is in denial, rebelling against anything related to the hearing loss — won't go to the SLT, to the audiologist, won't wear the hearing aids.

Until he starts high school after the summer break and realizes he can't hear the teachers well — not in the front seat, not when the classroom is silent. Turns out, the hearing aids are not enough — he needs a new set up already.

Mav takes out a sabbatical and they start everything from the beginning. New audiologist appointments, new hearing aids, new ASL lessons for the two of them, and some extra ones for Ice as well, lip reading lessons, SLT. Bradley doesn't have a choice, his hearing is getting worse and either he will adapt or his life is going to get difficult — and they're in a good enough situation, financially, and with Mav and Ice caring enough, that he can adapt as much as possible.

By the time he's in junior year, his hearing loss is severe. Their options are either sending Bradley to a boarding school for deaf kids or having him have an interpreter at school. Bradley feels strange about the boarding school so he has an interpreter for the rest of high school — which doesn't get him many friends...

College-wise, he doesn't know what to do. There's a few colleges in California that offer programs with support for deaf students, but the degrees are limited. Eventually, he decides to enroll in the Rochester NTID for aerospace/mechanical engineering and it kinda changes his perspective a lot.

There are other deaf students on campus, some even on his course, and it shows him so many different ways life can be still okay — he's never met anyone deaf his age before and being friends with people who either lost their hearing like him or were born deaf and had been involved in the Deaf community for years is amazing eye-opening. He stops being so bitter about life, even if he'll never stop feeling sad about not realizing his dreams. It teaches him to not care about what others think he is capable or not capable of doing and just do his own thing.

The Institute also has great support, also including the newest hearing aid tech. Cochlear implants only became widely available when he was finishing high school and despite many people celebrating being Deaf on campus, there's many people who also opted to have surgery or implants to help restore or conserve their hearing.

By the time Bradley gets the cochlear implants (funded mostly by Mav and Ice), he's not that set on having them, actually, not as much as he was when he was seventeen and they just came onto the market for kids. In fact, he only wears them for the purpose of work (he gets a civilian contractor job for the US Air Force of all places...) and prefers to have them off when he's at home or around people who know ASL (which is most of their family now). Being deaf is part of him, a part that is bigger and more settled than the part that used to wish he was 'normal'.

He only swaps the implants for a newer model sometime around the early 2010s because they can actually meet the FAA regulations and at the age of twenty-seven, Bradley is finally able to get his pilot license and then a commercial pilot license.

Now the hangster bit...

TG:M happens — Mav is there with the team obviously but Bradley is kinda around him because he's been contracted by the Navy the past few years (kinda like Charlie) and working with Mav in China Lake before.

Bradley shares the office with Mav and they hang around whenever Mav isn't training the Daggers — the whole group is kind of speculating on who he is — and Jake actually meets him once when he's looking for Mav and comes to the office.

He makes an ass out of himself (because this is Jake Sersin we're talking about) and basically shouts at Bradley, who is not wearing his hearing aids at the moment (he's doing paperwork, near the airfield, it's easier to focus if he doesn't hear ever single aircraft taking off) and gets super humbled when Bradley looks at him and only then clicks his very visible external processor on, and then asks him if he needed something.

After the mission, Mav and the Daggers stay close, work and outside as well (trauma bonding, even though Bradley calls them his little ducklings). This means Bradley is around them a lot, too.

Around the Daggers, Bradley wears the cochlear implants almost all the time, just for the sake of being able to be part of the conversation and having a better grip on the background noise and to know what is happening around him.

Now, this is when Jake gets a little... enamored.

Bradley is objectively cool, okay? He's deaf, but he's a commercial pilot and a stunt pilot on the side, he likes to jump out of planes (for research), he volunteers as an ASL interpreter and is certified to interpret. He's hot as well and Jake's brain overheats anytime he answers his half-flirty remarks with the same, if not bigger, force.

And Jake is a bit smitten, but Bradley never really makes a move. He's obviously contemplating making a move himself — Bradley is chill, even if it was a no, he'd not make a big deal out of it — but he's also his CO's kid and the COMPACFLT's kid and like, Jake doesn't wanna be the one to cross the line.

It's Mav who tells him — when he notices him staring at Bradley playing piano (and isn't that super cool? he's deaf and he can play piano better than anyone Jake knows) — that if he wants it, he should go for it because Bradley is too shy to make the first move, ever.

So one evening when they're at a barbecue at Mav's, Jake stays late, basically the only one left, and he is helping Bradley bring the dirty dishes into the kitchen, and Mav leaves them alone (giving him a goddamn wink as he steps out...)

The second Bradley begins with, Look, I'm flattered, he knows he's in a losing position, but tries to negotiate anyway — because he can see Bradley does like him, and for whatever reason, he just needs to point out it's enough and that he can see they have some chemistry and he promises to treat him to a good time if he gives him a chance.

So Bradley tells him how it is — he hasn't dated anyone who isn't deaf/hoh since he was nineteen and he doesn't plan to. Jake is great and he's sure they'd have great chemistry, but he's not the type to do the casual bit and he's pretty sure Jake will never make the effort he needs him to make because he doesn't understand how big part of Bradley being deaf is.

Jake denies it — so Bradley starts signing at him the alphabet (the first thing people learn when they learn ASL usually) and Jake just blinks at him dumbly, proving his point.

Obviously, Jake doesn't get it and says exactly what Bradley expected him to say, Well, I don't really need to know it, you've got the hearing aids.

And to Bradley, it proves that he's either not thinking of them as something long-term or that he just doesn't get what Bradley being deaf means, long-term, for his life. You realize I don't wear them all the time, right? Not at home, not around family, not around most of my friends. Wearing them constantly is exhausting. What will you do when I take them off? Or do you just expect me to never take them off?

Jake goes home and that's it, really.

It's sometime later, a few weeks or a couple of months. Jake's never brought up going on a date again and Bradley made peace with that — he was right and Jake either didn't want to commit or the effort was too big and he's no longer interested in him. Shame, but it's not the first time it happened — mainly why Bradley doesn't date people outside the deaf/hoh community anymore, they don't understand, he's cured or acceptable kind of deaf to them, because of the implants but when they come off — he's deficient.

The Daggers are sitting down with Mav when Bradley comes home and they're in the middle of a conversation and Bradley doesn't want to interrupt Bob so he just asks Mav via signing if he ate dinner already. Before Mav answers, Jake says out loud, We ordered in, leftovers are in the fridge.

And fair enough, Bradley goes to the kitchen and he's unpacking gyro from the plastic container when it hits him — Jake just understood his signing. And like, what the hell.

He doesn't want to make a scene so he waits until Jake is a little bit more alone (not really possible with their group).

When Jake notices him staring, he just goes, Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?

And Bradley feels a bit stupid, but he signs the same thing he asked Mav before and waits for some kind of answer and Jake just says, Shit, and gets all red in the face.

So Bradley just starts signing. How long, why didn't tell me, what the hell, and all that. Because why didn't Jake told him he could understand, that he knows ASL?

And Jake just stares at him. You're going way too fast, I'm not that good at it yet

And Bradley stops and stares at him dumbly. Yet?

Sheepishly, Jake's face gets even redder, and he's avoiding Bradley's gaze as he says, I was gonna tell you once I can actually communicate and not just know a few words and phrases.

You know it's going to take months, right? I took me months and I was learning for hours every day and practicing with my dad all the time.

Well, I assumed you meant I need to know it if I want to take you out so, y'know...

And Bradley just looks at this dumb dumb man and just maybe falls in love a little bit. You don't need to be fluent in a whole new language to date me, just acknowledging you'll have to at least try is enough.

It's actually more than enough. Maybe Bradley is a bit fond of Jake, sue him, but it's more than enough to give him a chance.

Oh, is all Jake says, okay then.

And Jake clears his throat, steps a little bit away and takes a minute to revise in his head, and then signs,

DATE-YOU-WANT-GO-WITH-ME

It's a little clumsy and a bit slow, but Bradley takes his time to slow down and just signs YES in reply

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

FUNDRAISERS TO HELP DEAF PALESTINIANS

These have all been verified by Gallaudet University’s SJP.

Please check out their account if you’d like more information or to find out more ways to help!

Or you can take a look at their linktree:

THANK YOU

🧏🇵🇸🦻🍉🤟🖤🤍❤️💚

[monkiinart]

finally started playing apex, im having fun despite having the spacial awareness of a blind horse

[3dsben]

Layton10

Simple but the idea hit me like a truck. I wrote some stuff about Deaf Layton & it's a bit shakey but the idea is there! I put it under the cut↙

Deaf Layton (HC.)

He is oralized, but fluent & relying on BSL. Deaf very young (prior to his adoption) due to an ear infection, severe but not profound (capable of hearing certain sounds). Uses a portable hearing device in certain cases, similar to transistor body hearing aids, worn on the chest with shoulder straps (maybe with an old time-y fantasy twist). Has little to no trouble lip-reading. He is against using his voice in most cases. Successful archaeology professor at Gressenheller University, he teaches in sign language with the company of an interpreter.

— Luke is his enthusiastic voluntary interpreter, met after his involvement in solving the specter case in Misthallery. He is hearing but fluent in BSL, raised on it by Clark & Brenda, who is deaf herself. Marveled by his manners & his way in solving mysteries, he insists on tagging along to his adventures as his makeshift sign language interpreter. Layton agrees on some unknown basis, since it is known that Luke’s interpreting job is a bit odd.

— Emmy learns about BSL after her run-in with the professor in an attempt to connect with him & assist him in his scholarly & investigative duties.

— Descolé is knowledgeable in BSL. His accent has an intense, dramatic quality to it, making it a bit funny & strange. His signing is tailored for Layton to see.

— Flora doesn’t know a lot of BSL, leaving her to be a bit left out of conversations. She learns a few basics, enough to attempt to establish a connection with Layton & Luke.

― Claire didn’t know BSL , but she learned bit by bit with Layton’s guidance. Together , unintentionally, they create a system combining gestures & words, similar to a home sign or pidgin. Layton is comfortable speaking to her.

[sadisthetic]

BURST💥

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Blake: (signing to Yang)

Yang: Okay, I think I got this! (Struggles to make same signs using one hand and fails gloriously)

Blake: (laughing so hard that she's crying)

Weiss: (wearing protective eyewear) Ruby, what's going on?

Ruby: Yang’s trying to learn Sign Language.

Weiss: Sign language?

Ruby: Yup!

Weiss: The amputee is learning Sign Language?

Ruby: From Blake.

Weiss: From the mute, deaf girl.

Ruby: Hey, it could be worse. Blake could be trying to teach you.

Weiss: ......

Ruby: Too far?

Weiss: I'll let you decide. (Grabs her cane and walks up the small set of steps)

Ruby: Weiss! (Rolls wheelchair over to the steps) Come on! That's not fair!

[negasonic9403]

Deaf!Peter in the kitchen making breakfast after a battle the day before. He doesn't have his hearing aids in because why would he at 6 in the morning when he doesn't think anyone else is going to be awake, especially since they had debriefed at 1 am, but he had stuck them into his hoodie pocket in case he needed them.

Lazily, he goes through the steps to make pancakes and he makes enough for everyone, which is a whole lot of pancakes. While he's cleaning up, Steve, the early riser he is, comes out of his bedroom with Bucky in tow because they had smelt breakfast. They hadn't expected the newest and youngest hero to be the one making the entire team breakfast, but Steve had to admit he was impressed and a little proud of Queens.

Steve walks into the kitchen and asked Peter from behind, "Peter, do you need any help with breakfast?"

Oblivious to the presence of the two super soldiers as he concentrated on making pancakes, Peter didn't respond since he couldn't hear him and hadn't seen him.

Steve was a bit surprised since the Peter he knew was always so polite, bent over backwards to call all of them by their official titles, was as respectful as possible, and seemed to constantly be talking with members of the team. Taking a step forward, Steve placed his hand on Peter's shoulder and Peter nearly jumped out of skin.

He whipped around to see Steve and Bucky staring at him before saying, "Geez! You can't sneak up on me like that!"

Steve looked at him confused before saying, "We walked in a few minutes ago and I just asked you if you needed help making breakfast. How is that sneaking?"

Peter sort of stares at Steve, trying to figure out what he was saying. His tired body and mind wasn't letting him lip read, which was never a great way to communicate but hey you do what you have to, to the fullest of his ability.

Rubbing his eyes, Peter just held up a hand to stop Steve from speaking anymore as he pulled his hearing aids out of his pocket. He put them in, allowed himself to adjust to the sudden massive influx of noise, and then lowered his hand before saying, "Okay, I'm ready. What did you say Mr. Rogers?"

Steve was a bit taken back because he hadn't known that Queens used hearing aids, but suddenly their interaction, and many others, made a lot more sense. "You're Deaf?"

Peter was confused by Steve's question before saying, "Yes? I have been since I was like five. Why do you—" and then he suddenly remembers that very few of the avengers actually knew he was Deaf since he was a pretty new addition to the regular team. Nodding a bit, he said, "And I'm assuming that never came up in conversation with you since you didn't know."

Up until now, Bucky had been quiet but he took now as an opportunity to interject himself. He waved a hand to get Peter's attention before signing, 'Do you know ASL?'

After the awkward moment of realizing he never told the leader of the avengers he was Deaf, Peter welcomed the distraction and grinned at Bucky's question. He loved talking in and about ASL. In response, he signed, 'Yes, I grew up using English and sign. You know ASL?'

Bucky nodded, 'I had to learn all of the major languages when I was the Winter Soldier. ASL is the 3rd most used language in America so it was one of the ones I learned.'

Steve watches Peter and Bucky talk. He knew some ASL but he was nowhere near fluent. He knew enough to have a conversation with Clint when he didn't want to wear his hearing aids, but that was about it. When Bucky and Peter's conversation came to an end, Steve waved a hand to get Peter's attention back. Slowly, and with awkward and shaking hands, Steve signed, 'If you don't want to wear your hearing aids, you don't have to. We want you to be comfortable.'

Peter was grinning from ear to ear as he took his aids out and put them away. He welcomed the silence as he tried to wrap his tired mind around the fact that two 100+ year old super soldiers just had a conversation with him in ASL as if it was the most normal thing in the world for superheros to do at 6 in the morning running on next to no sleep.

[echo-stimmingrose]

Little kids are so funny to me sometimes cause like

My youngest sister: *laying on top of me,blanket wrapped around her, struggling to keep her eyes open*

My second youngest sister: *tucked into my side, holding my arm hostage as a cuddle pet, snoring every now and then*

Me: You guys sleepy?

Both of them, very insistently: No!

[little-doggy-girl-kisser]

the bad kids signing their sign names!!

Adaine: Blue

Gorgug: Flower

Kristen: President

Riz: Ball

Fig: Cow Horns

Fabian: Scar

[bonefall]

it is healing to come onto this blog and see basic respect for diasbility after being in other corners of the fandom and reading the words “snowkit could never be a warrior because he wouldnt know what anything is. he wouldnt even know what a clan is because nobody could explain it to him” said in full seriousness

Im..... That statement is so ableist I cannot even imagine the worldview you'd need to have in order to come up with that.

They really think the only way anyone learns anything is through verbal-speaking-words-noises? No one has ever observed something before? Not even once?

This is beyond touching grass, this person just fell out of the fucking Jurassic Period when all they had was ferns and stegosaurs.

I just...

OH YES. I remember my first day of Society Lessons as a hearing person, where the everything was explained to me. Via Audiobook. FIRST they spoke and said, "you are standing on the ground." It was a life changing revelation, and the world began to spin.

But it did not stop.

THEN they said, "there are fingers on your hands." The sensation of flesh and bone crackling into existence is indescribable, but I did not yet know pain, until they told me, "that hurts." I began screaming immediately.

And yet... it continued.

They explained so much. Chairs. Tables. Walls. The sky. Frogs. Ionizing radiation. Breathing. I was told all of it, in one sitting, and only then did I understand. Only when my ears were bursting with normal hearing knowledges, did they begin... my final test.

A strange wall-chair-finger emerged from the sky-of-the-wall, stood on the ground several times, until it was in front of me. A second one came behind it, this one slimmer. The audiobook gave these things names;

Human. Father. Mother. Door. Walking. It was completely impossible to know what these things were until that very moment.

I watch a human dip a hook into water and produce a fish, and I recall my Society Lessons where they called that "fishing." I am decked in the face by a nefarious hooligan, and I have only the audiobook to thank when I know I have been "punched" by a "bad guy." It was only the magic of verbal-speaking-words-noise that made me understand that there are "other people" and that they "do stuff."

Sometimes, even, in "groups."

Before the Society Lessons Audiobook, I knew nothing. I was pure, innocent, uncorrupted by concepts such as "parents" and "door." I am grateful every day that there is no such concept as "being shown things" or "simple logical reasoning" or "looking."

Blessed be those amongst us who escape the horrors of the Society Lessons Audiobook. I pray that you never learn what anything is. Be free! Free as a bird, which also knows nothing and famously cannot learn. 🤗

DEAF/HOH FOLLOWERS I'm losing my mind do you want me to bump a 'Hearing Disabilities Herb Guide' to the top of my priorities? Something you can use to bludgeon whackadoodles like that. This is ridiculous

Obviously not a MEDICINE guide but like; common causes of hearing disability in clan cats. Accommodations for hearing loss vs congenital deafness. Actual difficulties of not having that sense Clan-by-Clan. Debunking of misconceptions like... not being able to learn APPARENTLY.

[moss-sprouted]

the disability diversity was *so* needed and im glad to see it this season!! i hardly expected a deaf girl entering the ton, let alone a possible suitor in a wheelchair?? so so good and really nice to see... now we just need some more queer rep, since this is more of fantasy regency and even in reality it wasnt uncommon to see

[ghosttotheparty]

with your fingers to my throat/id let you take it all

Eddie’s noticed things about Steve, and the way the others interact with him.

When everyone is talking in a group, their voices overlapping and raising in volume until Eddie is wincing and barely able to follow along, Steve doesn’t ever seem to pay attention. Sometimes he looks back and forth between them, his expression blank and often confused, his pretty eyes shining.

And then afterwards Robin or Nancy or Dustin talks to him privately, and Eddie wonders. He watches while they talk, while Steve nods and responds, his brows furrowed in focus, his eyes trained on their mouths.

And Eddie wonders.

“Hey, Buckley,” he says, dropping onto the sofa next to her. They’re in the Wheeler’s basement, and he watches Steve talking to Nancy in the corner. She shows him something, falling quiet as he looks at it intently, and then he looks back at her again before she continues to speak.

“Munson,” Robin greets dryly, flipping through a magazine, both of her legs pulled up on the sofa in front of her.

“I got a question, about— about Harrington.”

“I don’t know what he uses for his hair,” she says, flipping a page. “You have to ask him. I think Dustin might know but I’m pretty sure he took a blood pact to not tell anyone.”

“That’s…” Eddie blinks at her. “That’s not my question. I am curious now, though.”

“What’s the question?” she asks, lowering the magazine and looking at him. Her bangs are overgrown, falling in her sparkly eyes, but she doesn’t seem to care. “What can I do you for?”

“I…” He hesitates, glancing back at Steve and Nancy. They’re both laughing, Nancy gesturing with her hands while she talks. “This is, maybe, a… Weird question, but.”

“Ask.”

“Is Harrington, like… deaf?”

She blinks blankly at him, her eyelashes fluttering. She’s awfully pretty. (Not that Eddie’s told her.)

“Did you not know?”

“No?” She snorts at his reaction, his expression. “What the fuck?”

She laughs, shrugging.

“I thought you knew,” she says. “Everyone knows.”

“I didn’t!” he exclaims angrily, keeping his voice low. “How the fuck didn’t I know? Was he— Was he deaf in school?”

“No.” She shakes her head, looking back at the magazine. “It’s a recent development. Head trauma, y’know.”

“Jesus.” He looks back at Steve. His eyes are trained on Nancy’s mouth, a smile teasing his lips as she speaks. “Is he like… completely deaf? Or…”

“Kind of?” Robin says, flipping a page. “His left ear is completely deaf, I think. And the he, like, can only hear some things with his right ear. Really loud noises, and some, like, specific things. But he says voices are really hard to hear.”

“So he reads lips?”

“Yeah.”

“Would… Can he go see a doctor?” he asks. She sighs. “Like to get a hearing aid or something? I don’t really know how any of it works.”

“I don’t know,” she says, following his gaze to watch Steve. “He refuses to go to the doctor.” She hesitates for a second, twisting her mouth. “Neither of us really like the idea of going after the whole Russian-doctor-bone-saw thing.“

He looks at her. He still doesn’t really know what all happened with the Russian-doctor-bone-saw thing, but he never wants to ask. Not when Robin’s eyes dim slightly every time it comes up, and not when he knows it stops both of them from seeking medical attention. And not when he knows it must have something to do with Steve’s hearing loss.

“Nancy and I are trying to talk him into seeing an eye doctor, though,” she adds, looking back down at the magazine.

“Is his vision bad?” Eddie asks, his eyes still watching Steve. He’s not really observing anymore, at least not intentionally. But his eyes catch on the angle of his jaw, and the way he rubs at the scar around his neck absentmindedly. It isn’t as noticeably as Steve probably thinks it is.

“‘S not great,” she says lightly. “And when he gets headaches he sees, like spots. He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but I think that’s just because he doesn’t like people worrying about him.”

Eddie hums softly. He doesn’t notice Robin look over at him, seeing the way his eyes follow Steve’s every move, or the way his gaze has softened.

“Maybe you can talk him into going,” Robin says lightly. Eddie scoffs, finally looking away. He catches her eye before she looks back at the magazine and his cheeks flush.

“I have a feeling he won’t wanna listen to me.”

“I have a feeling he would,” she says, but before he can ask what the hell she means by that, the door to the basement opens and Mrs Wheeler’s voice calls Nancy’s name. Eddie scrambles, falling off the sofa and hiding out of sight even though she isn’t coming down the stairs.

Nancy has to leave to get Mike from Dustin’s house, even though she complains about it. (Mike said he could bike home. Nancy is not happy. It’s going to be a very uncomfortable car ride home.) Eddie sneaks out the back while Robin and Steve say goodbye to the Wheelers, hiding in the backseat of Steve’s car. When Robin slides into the passenger seat, she reaches back and smacks the top of his head. He reaches around the seat and smacks her back, swatting at her face, and Steve snorts, shaking his head at them.

Robin smacks at Eddie before she gets out of the car when they drop her off, and Eddie watches Steve walk her to the door and kiss her forehead before he comes back. He stops as he’s headed back to the car, tilting his head as Eddie struggling to climb into the passenger seat.

“You’re in charge of music,” Steve says as he’s buckling himself in, looking at Eddie.

Eddie flicks through the radio stations until he finds his favourite; the music is loud and heavy and intense, rough guitar riffs and drum beats so strong Eddie can feel them in his bones. When he looks over at Steve, Steve is smiling absently, the streetlights and stoplights shining on his face.

Their nighttime routine is a comfort to Eddie. It’s quiet, even with the remnants of his heavy music echoing in his head like it’s empty. They both shower when they get home. Steve takes longer showers than Eddie, and Eddie listens to the fall of the water as he heads to the living room. He flicks the lamps around the room on so it’s not too dark, all the curtains drawn. (The curtains are almost always drawn. Steve’s neighbors live far enough away that he doesn’t particularly worry about them seeing him through the windows, and it’s not like they even come by just to chat with Steve, but Steve doesn’t want to risk anything.)

Steve comes into the living room as Eddie is grinding the weed in his lap, and he leans over the back of the sofa, gently using his own towel to dry the dripping ends of Eddie’s hair. Eddie doesn’t move, but he laughs lightly, remembering every Thanks, sweetheart he’s said sarcastically that Steve never responded to.

“What are you laughing at?” Steve asks when he finishes drying his hair, collapsing onto the sofa next to him and looking at him with his shining eyes. It’s dim enough in the living room that his eyes look almost black, shiny and wide like some curious puppy. Eddie looks away, running his tongue along the edge of the rolling paper. “What’s funny?”

Eddie sticks the joint between his lips, suppressing a smile and feeling around his leg for the lighter. Steve watches him.

He lights the joint, the flame lighting up his face for a moment, and then he takes a long, slow drag, turning to face Steve by leaning his back against the armrest of the sofa and pulling his legs up between them.

“You know I didn’t know you’re deaf until today?”

Steve blinks blankly at him before—

“You didn’t know?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, and he shakes his head, watching as Steve grins and laughs in disbelief.

“No idea,” Eddie says, holding the joint out for Steve, who takes it, his fingers brushing Eddie’s lightly. “I had… an inkling today and asked Buckley.”

Steve laughs lightly, shaking his head as he takes a drag from the joint.

“How have you never noticed?” he asks, smoke drifting around his face. “There’s never been, like…” He shrugs, taking another short drag. “Any kind of misunderstanding, or…”

Eddie thinks for a second, sighing, leaning against the back of the sofa. He shrugs after a moment.

“Not really?” he says. Steve’s eyes are trained on his mouth. “I’ve said some things and you didn’t respond, but I never really worried about it.” Steve raised his eyebrows, smiling amusedly as he smokes. “But never anything that really needed a response, so…”

Steve laughs again. His eyes squeeze shut when he does. He’s going to have wrinkles around his eyes when he’s older, crow’s feet and laugh lines. Eddie can’t wait to see the remains and effects of joy and laughter and smiles alongside his scars.

“I think…” he starts, but he trails off. Steve holds the joint back out to him, and he takes it hesitantly, thinking. Steve waits patiently. “I think the reason there’s never been a problem is because I…”

“You what?“ Steve asks. His voice is soft. He mirror Eddie, leaning against the back of the sofa, setting his arm over it and letting his face rest on it.

“I think I just, like… instinctively face you when I’m talking with you. I like looking at you.”

Steve blinks, looking into Eddie’s eyes for a moment.

And then he’s smiling softly.

Eddie looks away, his cheeks flushing as he takes a long drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill his lungs and cloud his brain.

“Is it hard?” he asks Steve after a short while as he’s passing it back over to him. “Reading lips?”

Steve shrugs, blowing smoke into the air between them.

“Sometimes,” he says softly. “It was at first, when my hearing started going, but Robin helped a lot.” He looks at him with a sharp little smile. “Once I figured out how to read her lips I was pretty much good to go.”

Eddie laughs.

“Sometimes Robin and Dustin complain that I talk too quietly,” Steve adds, and then he takes another drag, holding it as he holds the joint out to Eddie and exhaling as Eddie inhales. “I just don’t wanna be yelling all the time, I can’t— I can’t hear myself talk,” he explains, gesturing to his ear with a lazy point. “But I’ve gotten better at speaking at a normal volume.”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures him. “I like your voice.”

It’s not just the weed getting rid of his filter. He knows it’s not. There’s a lot he wants to say to Steve that he’s been holding back, including that. His voice really is nice. Soft and smooth and low, sometimes breathy in almost-whispers that make shivers run down Eddie’s spine.

“Yeah?” Steve breathes. (There it is.)

“Yeah.” He hesitates, his eyes skimming down to rest at Steve’s lips. “Pretty.”

Steve looks away, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. Even in the dimness of the room Eddie sees his cheeks flush pink.

Eddie smokes slowly, gazing at Steve, watching as his smile softens and then falls as he looks back up at Eddie. Their eyes meet and Steve looks away, picking at his sweatpants and twisting his mouth like he’s thinking too hard. Eddie nudges his leg with his foot, prompting him to look back up at him.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. His voice is soft.

Steve shrugs lightly, pausing. He lays against the back of the sofa, curling in on himself. He looks so small, his hair starting to dry, curling slighting and frizzing in a way King Steve would never have let happen. Eddie wants to run his hands through it. He wants to take Steve into his arms and hold him until he falls asleep.

“I don’t really mind it,” Steve says after a moment. “It was hard to get used to at first, and it kinda freaked me out because I— I couldn’t hear if anything was happening behind me or when I going to sleep, but now I…” He shrugs, still avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “I don’t mind it,” he says again.

Eddie waits as Steve takes a deep breath, leaning over to the coffee table to drop the joint in the ashtray. He moves back to mirror Steve, curling an arm under his head against the sofa.

“I used to get really overwhelmed by noise,” Steve continues. “In the cafeteria, or in the gym, and my…” He takes a shuddering breath. “My dad used to yell a lot. I hated that.“

Steve’s parents left after the “earthquakes.” They barely even said goodbye. Steve never really talked about it, never seemed to be sad about it, but sometimes Eddie sees his face when he thinks no one’s looking. One night he heard him crying. Eddie doesn’t think he’s sad about them leaving, per se, but rather that they didn’t care enough to tell him they loved him. That they’d miss him. They left him a house, but not a phone number he could contact them at.

“The quiet is nice,” Steve says softly. “But sometimes I…” He hesitates, glancing at Eddie, who nudges him again with an eyebrow raise.

“Sometimes I wish I could hear you,” Steve says breathily, rushed and quiet and shy, his eyes avoiding Eddie’s. “I don’t really remember what you sound like from school, but I— I bet your voice is nice.”

Eddie’s face flushes with heat.

Some time passes. Steve doesn’t look at Eddie, so Eddie doesn’t say thing. But he looks at Steve, at the way he gazes blankly as his own lap, at the worn fabric of the sofa between them, a soft of sad acceptance in the golden reflecting shining in his eyes.

Eddie takes a breath, sitting up and moving closer. Steve looks at him.

“Wanna try something,” Eddie whispers. Steve blinks at him. Nods. Eddie holds his hand out.

Steve carefully slides his hand into Eddie’s, and Eddie’s brain stops working for a moment, overwhelmed by the warmth of Steve’s skin against his. He runs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, taking a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever the hell happens.

Slowly, he raises Steve’s hand to his own neck, using both hands to press Steve’s fingers to his throat. Steve’s eyes meet his. His brows are furrowed in confusion, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

Eddie swallows anxiously, letting go of Steve’s hand and opening his mouth, stammering before he says, “Can you feel it?”

Steve blinks, slowly sitting up and looking down at his fingers against Eddie’s throat. His eyes widen and flick up to Eddie’s then down to his mouth.

“Say something.”

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile, and he shifts closer. Steve’s fingers press harder. Eddie hopes he can’t feel his heartbeat.

“I— I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything,” Steve says breathlessly. “Say anything.”

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Eddie says. He lets himself just talk, a weight being lifted off his shoulders with every word. “I’ve— I’ve always thought so, Steve, you’re gorgeous.“

Steve’s face softens, his cheeks flushing pink. He shifts closer until they’re sitting cross-legged in front of each other, their knees pressing together, Steve’s hand pressing to Eddie’s throat.

Steve prompts him with a little jerk of his chin. Eddie smiles.

He sings You are my sunshine. Steve starts to smile when he recognizes the words, watching Eddie’s lips raptly, his other hand moving to rest on Eddie’s leg.

“Alright?” Eddie asks when the song is done. Steve nods. His eyes are glistening, shining like he might cry. “What are you thinking?”

“I like it,” he says, choking on his words. Eddie sets a hand over the one that Steve has on his leg. “The way your voice feels. And your… your heartbeat.“

“Oh, you can feel that too?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve nods, snickering softly. “So you know I’m freaking out right now?”

“You don’t need to freak out,” Steve whispers, his fingers shifting on his neck, shaking his head. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Steve hesitates, biting his lip, his eyes trained on his hand on Eddie’s neck.

“I like…” He looks at Eddie’s eyes. “I like knowing you’re alive.”

Eddie blinks.

“Like—“ Steve stammers, his mouth moving silently, and Eddie squeezes his hand, rubbing his knuckles soothingly. “Your heartbeat. I can feel that you’re alive. It’s the same reason I like your scars.”

Eddie can’t fight the little smile that crawls across his face. He reaches up and traces the scar around Steve’s neck, watching Steve’s eyes flutter shut. When he looks back at Eddie, Eddie says, “I like your scars too.”

Steve kisses him.

His hand tightens on Eddie’s throat, pulling him in, and Eddie’s eyes widen before they squeeze shut and his hands fly to hold Steve’s face between them. Steve’s cheeks squish under his palms, and Steve’s other hand squeezes Eddie’s thigh tightly.

Steve pulls away after a moment with a sharp gasp, his eyes wide, and as his eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s, Eddie starts to smile.

“Sorry,” Steve says breathlessly, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie tells him. Steve’s eyes flick to his throat. “I want you to, it’s okay.”

Steve exhales, still looking at him frantically, and Eddie holds his face as gently as he can, nodding and smiling and breathing heavily despite the kiss being brief.

“It’s okay,” he says again. Steve’s fingers press into his neck, and then he seems to melt, falling forward until his forehead rests on Eddie’s cheek, his shoulders slumping. Eddie closes his eyes, pushing his hands into Steve’s hair gently. It’s tangled and still a little damp, but Steve hums softly, and Eddie combs through it.

Steve sighs heavily, his other hand sliding up to hold Eddie’s hip, slipping over the creases of his sweatpants.

He finally lifts his head after a while, looking at Eddie almost sleepily, releasing his leg and reaching up to hold his cheek, and then he’s kissing him again.

His lips are soft against Eddie’s, and he tastes like weed and the sweet strawberries Mrs Wheeler brought down as Eddie hid behind the stairs, and Eddie sighs, combing through his hair again and scratching at his scalp and smiling against his lips when Steve hums softly.

Steve pulls away, sliding his tongue over his lips, tilting his head before he leans back in, kissing him like he doesn’t want to breathe. Eddie’s fingers tighten in his hair, and Steve’s tighten on his neck, and then Steve’s lips are parting and his tongue is slipping across Eddie’s lip, and Eddie is combusting. His jaw drops so Steve can press his tongue into his mouth, and a strangled groan escapes him.

Steve whimpers and presses his hand harder against his throat, his other hand holding his face. His thumb brushes over the mangled and scarred skin of Eddie’s cheek lightly.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve’s lips are kissed red, and Eddie ignores the flutter of pride in his stomach.

“Lay back,” Eddie says when Steve looks at him blearily, and Steve wordlessly shifts, pushing his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him down on top of him as he falls onto his back. Eddie catches himself with a hand to the sofa, laughing lightly, grinning at the way Steve blinks up at him, the way his hair fans out underneath him.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Steve tugs at his curls.

“Kiss me,” he says softly, lifting his chin. “Please, come— come here.”

Eddie lowers himself on top of him, and Steve is already opening his mouth desperately, closing his eyes. Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory. Or a camera.

He leans down and kisses him, carefully, tenderly pulling Steve’s lip between his own, listening to Steve’s breath hitch, feeling his hands run over the back of his neck under his hair. Steve falls lax, melting into the sofa as Eddie sucks on his lip, as Eddie leans over onto one arm and runs his other hand through his hair, pets his cheek, traces lines over his neck.

Steve lets him do what he wants, sighing and shifting closer until he slides a hand to Eddie’ neck again, pressing over his throat and moving his legs so one slips between Eddie’s. And he presses up.

A moan escapes Eddie, and Steve grins.

Eddie pulls away, groaning.

“You fucker.”

Steve giggles. Eddie shakes his head fondly at him, and then he’s pressing onto Steve’s leg and leaning down to kiss him deeply, moaning softly as Steve pushes his knee up and flicks his tongue across his lips. Steve is breathing heavily, one hand to Eddie’s throat, the other reaching down to tug at his hips, pulling him against himself, and Eddie sighs, sucking at Steve’s lip, his tongue, biting and licking as Steve clutches at him.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve’s lips and chin are glistening, and his cheeks are flushed, and it takes a few moments for him to open his eyes. He takes a heavy breath before he speaks.

“Never been kissed like that before.”

“No?” Eddie says breathlessly, resisting the urge to close the distance between them again. Steve shakes his head. “Was it okay?”

Steve swears under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, Eddie,” he breathes. Eddie doesn’t know why, but just his name in Steve’s mouth makes him shiver. Everyone calls him Eddie. It’s not a pet name or a special nickname. But the way Steve makes it sound? Eddie wants to legally change his name to Eddie in Steve’s voice. “It was okay, it was more than okay.”

Eddie grins, brushing the side of his pretty face with his fingertips before he kisses him again, slower and more carefully, pushing his tongue to slide along Steve’s, and Steve lets his mouth hang open, humming softly, pulling at his hips again before his hand slowly slips under Eddie’s sweatshirt.

Eddie pulls away for a moment, tilting his head and leaning back in, licking across Steve’s smiling lips. Steve’s fingers are warm against the small of his back, dancing deftly over his spine under his sweatshirt, and Eddie thinks he might actually have died during the whole Vecna thing. He never thought he’d make it to heaven. But that’s the only rational explanation.

Because Steve Harrington is making out with him. Messily, and sloppily, the way Eddie likes it. (Steve seems to like it too, if Eddie were to judge based on the soft whimpers and gasps that escape him.) Wrapping his legs around his hips, holding his throat tightly and pressing just over Eddie’s ass like he’s too nervous to touch it. Sucking at his lips and tongue messily until spit is sliding between them. Humming and moaning as Eddie kisses across his cheeks (spreading said spit unintentionally, but neither of them really give a shit) and down his neck. Pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair and tugging as Eddie kisses the long scar across his neck.

Eddie sits up after a second, looking down at Steve and admiring him. He’s panting, flushed and squirming on the sofa, his lips bitten red and bruised. His chin and cheeks are shining with spit, and Eddie wants to lick it off, so he does.

Steve giggles as Eddie drags his tongue over his cheek, one of his hands burying itself in Eddie’s hair and tugging enough that he groans. Eddie licks across his face, even over his closed eye, and Steve is smiling softly, almost basking in Eddie’s affection.

Steve’s hand hesitates over the small of Eddie’s back as Eddie is dragging the tip of his tongue over the scar on his neck, lifting and hovering, and Eddie sighs. He settles on a spot on his neck, digging his teeth into his skin lightly and listening to Steve whine as Eddie reaches back, grabbing Steve’s hand with his own and pushing it to his ass. Steve’s fingers grab him immediately, and Eddie lets out a soft moan, releasing his hand and running his hand up Steve’s arm.

His sweater is soft, and his arm is soft, and his grip on Eddie is soft, even when he squeezes, and Eddie smiles as he sucks on his neck.

He pulls away after a while, soothing the blossoming bruise with a swipe of his tongue, and looks at Steve, who looks up at him blearily, whining under his breath.

“Can I take this off?” Eddie asks when Steve’s eyes land on him, tugging his shirt, and Steve nods, squeezing Eddie again before he shifts, sitting up. Eddie settles between his legs, carefully pulling Steve’s sweatshirt over his head, mussing his hair, and he tosses it away without looking to see where it lands.

He leans down, pressing desperate kisses across Steve’s and neck and collarbones, sliding his hands across his chest.

“Eddie—“ Steve gasps as Eddie thumbs over his nipples, and Eddie grins, pulling away to watch him throw his head back let out a strained exhale. “Shit.”

Eddie does it again, smiling lazily and tilting his head, watching Steve bite his lip, furrow his brows, breathe heavily, until Steve smacks his hands away like he doesn’t really want to.

“Off,” he says, reaching for the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt, and Eddie pulls away, hesitating for only a second before he pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it away, shaking his hair out of his face.

Steve is staring at him, his eyes lidded and dark. They skim down his chest, lingering at his tattoo before they land on the scars that cover his sides. Eddie wants to cover them, to find his shirt and put it back on so Steve will stop staring.

Steve reaches out slowly, his fingertips dancing across the scarred skin. It tickles, the touch feather light and barely there, and Eddie closes his eyes. Steve traces every scar, trailing his fingertips over his sides and chest and upper arms, and then one of his hands pulls away.

There’s a moment before his palm presses to Eddie’s throat, and Eddie exhales as Steve falls against his shoulder, his forehead pressing into the side of Eddie’s neck. Eddie opens his eyes, glancing at him enough to wrap his arms around him, sliding his hands over his bare back and into his hair. He’s so warm. Eddie closes his eyes again.

“Say something for me,” Steve says softly. Eddie looks at him again. He isn’t looking.

“I love you,” he says, feeling Steve’s hand press harder against his throat, and he lets his head fall back, exhaling. His breath hitches in his throat. “I love you so much, Stevie, I love you.”

Steve whimpers as he speaks, his fingers tightening on the sides of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie feels almost lightheaded. He tugs Steve’s hair gently, speaking again, low and quiet but loud enough that Steve can feel it against his hand.

Steve is crying. Eddie can feel his tears on his own skin, can hear the way Steve’s breath catches in his throat and feel the way he’s shaking. Eddie plays with his hair gently, runs a hand over the back of his neck, and he talks.

It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’m alright, I’m right here. You’ve got me, you can hold onto me. I’ll take care of you.

When Steve finally lifts his head, his lashes are soaked, his cheeks tearstained, and Eddie’s neck gets cold. He reaches to wipe his cheeks tenderly, nodding.

“What did you say?” Steve asks quietly. Eddie blinks, his cheeks flushing with heat.

“I said a lot,” he says. Steve smiles, tilting his head, wordlessly asking again. Eddie hesitates, his eyes flicking across Steve’s face. He looks exhausted, tear streaked and red cheeked, his eyes half closed, lips swollen from kisses, neck spotted with bites and bruises. He looks throughly fucked, content and relaxed despite his tears. Eddie brushes a hand over the side of his face.

“I love you,” he breathes.

Steve blinks, his eyes raising to meet Eddie’s. He looks back and forth between Eddie’s eyes, glances back at his lips, tightens his grip on his neck.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

“I love you.” Steve swallows, his eyebrows furrowing and his lip quivering, and he releases Eddie’s throat, which goes cold almost immediately as Steve lifts his hand and touches Eddie’s lips. “I love you,” Eddie says again softly.

Steve closes his eyes, and kisses him again a moment later. Eddie’s eyes fall shut, and he cradles the back of Steve’s head as Steve kisses him slowly, deeply.

“Really?” Steve asks desperately when he pulls away. He’s holding Eddie’s face between his hands. Eddie gazes at him, wondering when he last heard those words. He sighs softly, shifting, moving so he’s sitting up on one of Steve’s legs, his fingers running through Steve’s hair as Steve places his hands on his waist.

“I love you,” he says slowly when Steve is looking at his mouth again. “Really, seriously. Definitely. Completely.”

Steve stammers silently for a moment, his hands tightening.

“If— If you don’t kiss me right now, I think I’ll actually die.”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, and he leans down, their mouths crashing together. His hair falls around their faces, hiding them like a curtain, and Steve holds his wrist, his head falling back.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes when they part, panting, his eyes closed. “You’re so good at that.”

Eddie’s stomach flutters, and he giggles.

Steve opens his eyes.

“Surprised?” Eddie asks softly, still smiling. Steve doesn’t answer, tilting his head, sliding his hands to Eddie’s hips, and then he’s pulling, lifting his leg up against Eddie, a smile crawling across his face as Eddie exhales sharply and looking away, ever ounce of pride, of smugness, departing.

He takes a deep breath, consciously refraining from shifting his hips against Steve’s thigh. (Jesus, his thighs. Eddie wants to eat him.) But Steve pulls again, grinning at him.

“I love you too,” he says lightly, pulling at his hips until Eddie gives up, collapsing against him and groaning. “It’s okay, go ahead.”

Eddie slowly grinds against his leg, huffing, staring at him. Steve nods, smiling and smiling.

Eddie whines, squeezing his eyes shut, and he reaches down to grab one of Steve’s hands, pulling it away from where it’s gripping his sweatpants and lifting it to his throat. Steve grips him gently, grinning at him when Eddie moans quietly.

Eddie shifts, desperately moving so his knee presses to Steve, watching as Steve’s brows furrow and he bites his lip. His knee presses harder every time he shifts against Steve’s thigh, and Steve slides a hand to Eddie’s ass again, squeezing.

Steve is noisy. Eddie loves it.

He whines and whimpers and moans, his eyes closed, his head fallen back, murmuring things like yeah and please when Eddie starts licking him again (because he can’t help it). He gets louder as he gets closer, when Eddie reaches down and touches him over his sweatpants.

“I’m so loud, aren’t I?” Steve asks breathlessly, his cheeks flushed as Eddie squeezes him. Eddie laughs lightly, grinding against him, nodding.

“I like it,” he says, just as breathless.

“You like it?“

Eddie nods. He squeezes again, stroking and pulling, and Steve chokes out a whimper, but Eddie sets his other hand on his chin, lifting it up so their eyes meet, and Steve looks at his lips.

“Let it all out, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes fall shut. He melts against Eddie, who lets his other hand drift to Steve’s chest, sliding his fingertips over one of his nipples before he pinches, and Steve yelps, his hips bucking up into Eddie’s hand.

“Fuck, Eddie.” He grips Eddie’s throat, his other hand jumping to hold Eddie’s forearm tightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck—“

Eddie watches raptly, wide-eyed and mesmerised as Steve’s eyes squeeze shut and his fingers tighten on Eddie’s throat. Eddie presses down against Steve’s thigh, grunting and biting his lip as he comes.

“Eddie.”

Eddie opens his eyes and leans down, pressing sloppy kisses across Steve’s neck, licking over his skin that’s now salty with sweat, exhaling over his own spit and feeling Steve shiver against him.

“Eddie— Baby, please.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, his stomach fluttering.

“I got you,” he says, and Steve’s eyes open when he feels the words vibrate against his hand. “It’s okay, Stevie, I got you.”

“Jesus, fuck—“

When he comes, the noise he lets out is high-pitched, weak and strained and so vulnerable it makes Eddie ache. His eyes squeeze shut, and his hands tighten on Steve, and he tenses up until he’s frozen, and after a moment passes, he collapses.

He exhales hard, his hands releasing Eddie, and Eddie pulls his hand away, smoothing both of his hands Steve’s sides, over his scars and scattered moles. Steve opens his eyes after a moment, breathing heavily, and his eyes land on Eddie’s throat. He traces a line over it softly.

“Sorry.”

Eddie sighs.

“Don’t you dare apologise,” he says quietly. Steve rests his fingertips lightly over his throat. “That was the hardest I’ve come in ages.”

Steve smiles tiredly.

“Didn’t even touch you,” he mumbles.

“Next time.”

Steve’s smile grows and he nods. He falls forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressing his face into his neck. Eddie takes a deep breath. (Steve smells like his fancy soap and weed and sweat, and Eddie wants to keep the scene for the rest of his life.) He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, burying his face between his arm and Steve’s neck, and inhaling again.

“I love you,” Steve says softly.

Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, tugging lightly three times, and Steve hums quietly.

He lifts his head after a moment, looking up at Eddie.

“Even though you didn’t realise I’m deaf after, like, a year.”

Eddie laughs lightly, looking away as his cheeks flush. Steve’s eyes are sparkling playfully, shining in the dim lamplight, and he really is the prettiest thing Eddie’s ever seen.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve says quietly. His eyes stay on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie watches as Steve’s tongue slips across his lips, as he nibbles his bottom lip nervously. Eddie combs through his hair soothingly, and after a moment, Steve’s mouth falls open, and he’s holding his tongue out, and Eddie leans in after briefly wishing for a camera again.

He licks Steve’s tongue, pulling away to look again before he leans back in and sucks his tongue between his lips, sucking and licking at it until both their chins and lips are slick with spit, listening to the sound of their tongues sliding, of Steve’s heavy breaths. When he finally pulls away, Steve’s eyes remain closed, his whole face relaxed and soft and calm. He almost looks asleep. Eddie pets his hair, brushes his fingers over his cheek.

Steve opens his eyes after a moment, and it takes a second for them to focus on Eddie.

“Bed?” he asks softly, almost just breathing the word, and Eddie nods, pressing a kiss to his mouth one more time before he kisses his forehead.

Steve falls asleep first, heavy against Eddie, his head resting on his chest, just over his heart. Eddie wonders if he can feel his heartbeat.

Eddie thinks for a while, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light of the room. (The leave the bathroom light on and the door open. Neither of them can stand the dark anymore.) There are probably some books on sign language at the library. He can ask Robin to pick them up for him. And maybe she can find some classes in town. She’d be willing to teach him what she learns. Of course Steve would also need to learn it. If he wants to. Eddie will ask tomorrow.

Steve sighs, shifting on Eddie’s chest, and Eddie looks down at the top of his head. He carefully, gently presses a hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp and combing through it.

Steve Harrington.

Squeezed Eddie’s throat until he almost couldn’t breath just so he could feel Eddie’s voice because he can’t hear it. Let Eddie suck on his tongue and lick his face and get off on his thigh. Kissed Eddie like he’d die if he didn’t, touched his scars like he’s fragile, like he deserves to be touched delicately.

Said he loves Eddie.

“Eddie,” Steve grumbles against Eddie’s chest. Eddie blinks, looking down at him and tugging his hair to show him that he’s listening. “Go to sleep, baby.”

Eddie smiles, lifting his head to kiss the top of Steve’s head, and then he closes his eyes, because he would walk straight off a cliff if Steve told him to like that.

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

"I got a nickname for you, and it ain't Buck!"

JOHN!!! 😭😭😭

video credit: mishvixz on TikTok