#college student steve

[loserharrington]

Hm… Radio host Eddie

and College student Steve who can’t seem to study without listening to his favorite station

“For those just tuning in, you’re listening to station 6. I’m your host Eddie Munson, and I’ll be taking you on a late night ride. But first… this Changes by Black Sabbath. Enjoy.”

Steve had never favored the silence. It made him far too anxious to focus, and more often than not it caused the words of his small print textbooks to bleed together. He needed background noise. Something to fill the empty space of his dorm room.

Steve had never favored the silence. It made him far too anxious to focus, and more often than not it caused the words of his small print textbooks to bleed together. He needed background noise. Something to fill the empty space of his dorm room.

Steve came across the station purely by accident. It wasn’t even the sort of music he would ever listen to. Not really. It was a late night and Steve had a horrible sense of wrongness weighing him down. He was alone, and something in his brain wouldn’t tick quite right. He missed Indiana. He missed that hellhole, Hawkins. He missed Robin and Dustin and even his big empty house— And he missed Nancy, who he had to part ways with because their ideas for the future were far too different, far too opposing, and Steve knew it wouldn’t last. It wouldn’t last, so he ripped off the band-aid before it got too stuck there.

So, he decided to drown himself in his books, but not before searching for something, anything, to fill the silence. The hole in his chest that felt so wrong. But none of the channels seemed good enough, most of them reminding him far too much of home. He flicked through the stations one by one, searching.

He only paused when until he heard the host's voice. His voice that had a sultry tone, sharp pronounced words, and passion as if he was born for storytelling, for speaking, and pulling you in. And when some Rock ballad Steve didn’t recognize played, he didn’t change the channel. He pulled out his books and listened all the way through.

The first song was good enough. The words spoke to him. peered right into his soul, his current situation, and splayed it all out for him to hear on a random Thursday afternoon. Steve considered for a moment that the music could be for him. To send him a message, the message he had been searching for. It was odd how that worked. A pure accident that had led to something so good.

So he kept listening and it became a habit. Every day he’d tune in, listen to the host, Eddie, say the same line over again, and play some song that somehow, someway, spoke to Steve in a way that was almost eerie how accurate it was to how he felt at that moment.

Sometimes Eddie gave out a number for the listeners to call. Steve listened and waited, but nobody ever called. He wrote the number down in the margins of his book, saving it for later.

Station 6 seemed to be a Rock station, but Eddie rarely played anything too upbeat. They were all slow ballads, love songs, and aching tunes that gave Steve goosebumps. Perhaps it was because Station 6 only seemed to play late at night, or perhaps Eddie favored these sorts of songs regardless if the moon was there to hear them. Steve wondered more and more about the host as time went on, clinging to every short word he spoke between songs. He told stories of how he felt the first time he heard the songs, the small memories they evoked, and more little things that had Steve smiling to himself.

“For those just tuning in, you’re listening to station 6. I’m your host Eddie Munson, and I’ll be taking you on a late night ride. But first… this is Wasting Love by Iron Maiden. Enjoy.”

On a particularly lonely night, Steve decided to call. It only rang once before the line clicked and Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest.

“Hello—”

“You called!” Eddie shouted enthusiastically. “Finally!”

“Oh, uh. Were you expecting me?” Steve squeezed his eyes shut the moment the words fell from his mouth. Of course, he wasn’t, he scolded himself. Eddie was just excited because Steve was his first caller in weeks… maybe ever. He was just waiting for someone—

“You’re my only listener,” Eddie said softly.

“Oh.”

Eddie laughed and Steve hated the way it made his skin prickle. Almost loved it, too. “Yeah, oh. I was starting to think you were a ghost, man.”

“Well, I’ve called,” Steve said, twirling his pen between his fingers. He almost felt silly, talking to this stranger as if they were old friends waiting to hear from each other. He almost felt as if they were, as if they had known each other for months. Years. Eddie Munson didn't feel like a stranger. “Now what?”

“Well what’s your name, Ghost Man?”

“Steve,” he said simply. "Steve Harrington."

“Well, Steve. This song is for you.”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

bonjour could I please request some beefy professor Steve Roger’s smut? 🫶🤤

Jealous Professor » Steve Rogers (AU)

Pairings: College Professor!Steve Rogers x College Student!Female Reader

Summary: Steve gets jealous when he sees you get a little too friendly with another professor.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, age gap (reader is in her early 20s), dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, spanking, degrading, name calling (slut), pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Steve watched you from the doorway of his office, leaning against the door frame. You were talking to your Literature professor, Professor Barnes, about the homework. To Steve, it looked like you were flirting with his colleague. He didn’t like that and he was going to do something about it.

“Thank you, Professor Barnes! See you tomorrow!” You say, walking away.

Steve called out for you before you got any further down the hall. You turned around to see your History professor motioning you towards him.

“Yes, Professor Rogers?” You asked.

“I’d like to talk to you in my office.” Steve opens the door. “After you.” He says.

You walked in his office without questioning him. You sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Steve closed and locked the door behind him before taking a seat at his desk.

“Is this about my test?” You asked, worried that you got a bad grade on it.

“No. You got an excellent grade on it. That’s not why I called you in here.” He says.

“Oh ok.” You replied. “Why am I here?” You asked

Steve stood up from his desk chair and walked around his desk to where you’re sitting, leaning against the edge of his desk.

“I called you in here, because I didn’t like the way you were talking to Professor Barnes.” He says.

“I wasn’t disrespecting him if that’s what you’re thinking. I was just asking him a question about the homework he assigned.” You explained.

“That’s not what I meant.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt sleeves threatening to rip around his biceps. “You were getting a little too friendly with him.” He says.

“I was just being nice.” You say innocently.

“Being nice doesn’t involve flirting.” He says.

“Sir, I wasn’t flirting with him.” You answered honestly.

“Here’s the thing…” Steve pushed himself off the edge of his desk. “I’d believe you if you were acting so innocent.” He says.

“I’m not acting at all, sir. I swear.” You say in a pleading voice.

As you’re talking to him, Steve takes a moment to look at what you’re wearing. A short sleeve shirt that shows off your cleavage and a skirt that’s just long enough to cover your ass. He could tell what kind of bra you’re wearing. From what he can see, it looks like some kind of lacy design. It made him wander if you were wearing matching panties with it. He felt his cock grow hard the more he looked at your outfit.

“Stand up.” Steve orders.

You didn’t question him. You stood up and stood in front of him, waiting for further instructions. Steve watched as your hands smoothed out your skirt. He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of your cleavage. He pushed himself off of the edge of his desk, getting closer to you.

Without warning or hesitation, Steve kissed you sloppily. Your eyes widened in surprise, catching you off guard. You didn’t pull away or push him away. Your hands grasped onto his button up shirt, clutching the material in your hands and pulled him closer to you.

You gasped when you felt his bulge against your lower stomach. Steve took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. He pulled away from your lips, leaving the two of you breathless. You looked in his eyes, his blue eyes now clouded with lust.

“Bend over my desk. Hands on top of it.” He instructs.

“Yes, Professor.” You replied submissively.

“Call me Steve, sweetheart.” He tells you.

“Yes, Steve.” You replied submissively again.

You bent over his desk, placing your hands on top of it like he told you to. Your ass was sticking out towards him. You looked over your shoulder at Steve to see him bunching your skirt up just above your ass so your panties were exposed to him. Just like he thought, you were wearing panties to match your bra. Lace panties to be exact. Same color and same design.

He hooked a finger in the waistband of your panties, pulling on them and letting go of it. A squeak left your lips when your waistband snapped against your skin. He then hooked his fingers in the waistband again and pulled them down, letting them pool around your ankles. Your ass and wet pussy are now exposed to him.

A small yelp left your lips when Steve smacked your ass. He then rubbed his fingers between your folds, getting them wet with your slick. He teasingly rubbed your clit in painfully slow circles. You wanted more. You backed yourself against his hand, but that earned you a smack on your ass.

“Be a good girl.” Steve says in a warning voice.

You pouted and looked over your shoulder at him. Steve slid two fingers in your pussy. A gasp fell from your lips. He moved his fingers in and out of you at a decent pace. Your mouth fell open, soft moans left your lips.

Steve’s free hand went underneath your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra. He gave them each a squeeze before sliding his hand inside of your bra. His fingers rubbed over your nipples and pinched them. A gasp left your lips and your pussy clenched around his fingers.

His hand left your shirt and unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He pulled his cock out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before taking his fingers out of your pussy, making you whine at the loss of the feeling of his fingers. That earned you another smack on your ass.

Steve took a step closer to you. He rubbed his cock against your pussy, getting it wet with your slick. You moaned when his cock bumped your clit. He then lined his cock at your entrance and slid it inside of you, inch by inch. Your mouth fell open and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. You could feel every vein of his cock rubbing along your wet walls as he slid it inside of you.

“So big…” You say more in a gasp.

“You can take it.” Steve gave your ass a gentle pat. “I bet you’re used to taking big cocks like mine.” He says.

When he was fully inside of you, he gave you a short moment before he started thrusting. His hands held onto your hips, bring you back with each thrust. Your hands scrambled to hold onto something. You grabbed onto the edge of the desk, digging your nails in the wood.

Steve moved your hair to the side and leaned forward, the front of his body against your back. He placed kisses along your neck. His teeth nipped on your skin hard enough for hickeys.

“I bet you like this, don’t you, sweetheart?” Steve’s voice is husky. “I bet you’re loving the fact that you’re getting fucked by your professor.” He says.

“Mhmm, yes!” You answered more in a gasp.

“Was it your intention to make me jealous by talking to Professor Barnes?” He asks.

“No!” You replied in a moan. “I was- oh fuck! I was just talking to him. I swear!” You say.

Steve hummed to himself as he continued to fuck you. You were actually talking to Professor Barnes about the homework he assigned, but you were also flirting with him a little bit.

“Maybe I should call him in here.” He suggests.

You moaned at the thought of him doing exactly that.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckles. “Maybe you do want him to see you getting fucked like a little slut.” He says.

You got even more turned on when he called you a slut. You shouldn’t have, but you did. It was something about the way he said it that turned you on.

Steve put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you up straight so your back was against the front of his body. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head and your mouth fell open when you could feel his cock hitting all of the right spots at this angle.

Steve pulled your shirt up above your bra covered breasts. He then took your breasts out of your bra and held them in his hands. He gave both of them a squeeze, causing you to gasp loudly. One of his hands left one of your breasts to cover your mouth to keep you quiet.

“You gotta be quiet, honey. Don’t want anyone to hear us.” Steve said in your ear. “Or maybe you want Professor Barnes to hear us. Is that it?” He asks. “His office is right next door. Maybe I should pin you against the wall so he can hear the slutty little noises you make for me.” He says, chuckling a little bit.

You whined at his words. You reached your hands up, blindly feeling for his hair. You found his hair with ease and ran your fingers through it, tugging on it. Your back arched off of his body when his cock hit your sweet spot perfectly. Your pussy clenched around his cock at the feeling.

“Right there!” You tell him, followed by a moan.

“Aww, did I find your little spot?” He asks in a cooing voice.

“Mhmm.” You hummed in response, unable to form any coherent words.

His cock hit your sweet spot again, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You bit your bottom lip, moaning soft when you felt Steve’s beard against your skin when he placed kisses along your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. You gasped when his teeth bit your skin hard enough for a hickey.

You were caught off guard when one of his hands went in between your legs and began rubbing your clit, moans leaving your lips. Your legs clamped around his hand. Steve’s free hand opened your legs by grabbing onto your thigh and spread your legs apart.

“Keep your legs open.” Steve says.

Steve wrapped his arm around your waist just below your breasts and fucked you harder. His cock hit your sweet spot perfectly almost every time. His hand that was on your thigh moved upwards to your clit and started rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock at the feeling.

“I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock, sweetheart.” He says raspy in your ear.

His dirty words alone made you want to cum on the spot. You reached a hand down to his wrist and held on to it, keeping his hand there. Steve lightly chuckles in your ear and rubbed your clit faster. He moaned when your cunt clenched around his cock. That’s when your orgasm was beginning to build up.

“Professor-” A small squeak left your lips when Steve smacked your clit. “Steve!” You corrected yourself. “I’m getting close.” You tell him.

“I know you are, honey. I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock.” He says huskily.

A whine left your lips the more you felt your orgasm building up. Steve applied more pressure to your clit as he continued to rub it. Your legs began to tremble the more his fingers rubbed your clit and the faster he fucked you.

“Steve, I’m going to cum.” You whined. “Please let me cum.” You begged desperately.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl for me… go ahead, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear, kissing just below your ear.

That sent you over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your bottom lip to keep your moans quieter when you came. Steve gave your clit one last rub to help you ride out your orgasm before focusing on his own orgasm. He wasn’t too far behind you. His thrusts became sloppy the closer he got to his orgasm. He bit down on your neck to muffle his moans when he came inside of you, painting your walls with his cum.

His thrusts came to a slow stop and left his cock inside of you while the two of you stood there and caught your breath. Your legs were a little bit wobbly and Steve wrapped one of his arms around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from falling. After a moment, Steve pulled his cock out of you, making you whine at the loss of contact of his cock. He cleaned the two of you up with tissues before you guys readjusted your clothes.

As you were about to pick up your bag, Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, kissing you passionately. You moaned against his lips. You picked up your bag when he let go of you. You were met by Professor Barnes when you opened the door. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and Bucky smirked to himself when he seen the marks Steve left on your neck.

“See you in class tomorrow, sweetheart.” Steve says to you and smacked your ass before you walked out of his office.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had always been a daddy’s boy. Richard, though strict sometimes, still spoiled him plenty.

Thus, even when he went to college, he still texted and called his dad to ask for whatever he wanted.

There wouldn't be any problems if he hadn't mistaken one of his contacts for Richard's one bleary morning.

———

Steve: you told me to get a new car

Steve: but how can i get it without any money?

Prof. M: ?

Steve: don't ? me 😒 if you gave me back my card, i wouldn't have to wake you up this early

Prof. M: how much?

Steve blinked owlishly, surprised that Richard didn't start lecturing him on how to spend his money like usual.

He shrugged. Strange or not, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Steve: it's up to you, daddy

Steve: also don't forget to send me this month's allowance 😘

Prof. M: ?

Steve: stop ?ing me

Rolling his eyes at his dad's weird behavior, Steve checked the notification when his banking app tinged and grinned widely.

Goddamn.

This was a lot even for Richard's standard. If he spent carefully, he could buy more than just a new sport car.

Steve: thanks daddy 🥰

Steve: i promise to work harder next semester and won't skip classes anymore

Prof. M: it's not much, but can you stop calling me daddy now?

Frowning at the text, Steve pressed the call button, wanting to ask what was Richard's problem now.

"Daddy, are you mad at me again?"

"I'm not mad at you, Mr. Harrington, and I'm certainly not your dad, either," an amused voice sounded in his ear.

Horrified, Steve belatedly realized that he wasn’t talking to his dad at all.

He pulled his phone away as if he was burnt and saw Prof. Munson staring back at him mockingly.

"I'm so sorry, sir," He squeaked out. "I, uhm, didn't mean to ask for your money!"

"Don't worry," the man chuckled warmly. "If it means you won't skip my classes in the future, then it's worth it."

And suddenly, Steve remembered the massive crush he had on this man when he had followed Robin him into the criminal behavior class.

Those whiskey eyes would forever ingrain in his dream.

"But this is still too much, sir," Steve worried his bottom lip, feeling his cheeks and tummy warm with embarrassment. "I can return it to you, Professor."

"Just keep it," the man said calmly. "Can I call you Steve?"

"Yes, sir," Steve mumbled, heart thumping hard in his chest.

"So Steve, go get your car or whatever you want," the man huffed out a quiet laugh. "Just remember that you owe me all of my classes until you graduate."

When Steve put his phone down, he buried his face into his hands and squealed, kicking his legs and punching the air in elation.

In the following semesters, Steve was praised by his parents for improving his grades and not wasting money on "meaningless things" anymore.

They didn't need to know that it was all thanks to Professor Munson who had kept him in line.

And also lavished him with too many gifts and affection to be considered professional.

[jen-with-a-pen]

⊹-୨୧-⊹𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⊹-୨୧-⊹

⊹–SUMMARY–⊹ Inexperienced and still freshly-traumatized by his first heartbreak, Steve Rogers decides to finally move away for college after taking two gap years to work, save, and help his Ma around the house. It’ll be good for him. Away from his ex. Away from his hometown. He's excited to finally chase his dreams and begin again as a promising fine arts student at Richards College. Well, almost. Thanks to a generous scholarship spanning the next four years of his life, Steve is required to participate in on-campus Greek life. It’s simple: join a frat. They shouldn't be too intimidating. At least they're not as bad as they are in the movies, right? Right..?

⊹–PAIRINGS–⊹ Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!F!Reader

⊹–WARNINGS–⊹ more to be added as series progresses frat bros being frat bros, sorority sisters being sorority sisters, manipulation, coercion, blackmail, fluff, angst, whump, explicit forced s3xual acts, slow burn, dissociation, nud1ty, dubcon (bordering noncon), forced drvgging, mentions of kidnapping, emotional damage, Steve's just trying his best, Bucky and Sam are major frat bros, Tony and Clint are somewhere I swear The warnings listed here are not exhaustive but generally encapsulate the series as a whole and do not represent every single chapter. Please be mindful and read the chapter warnings!

Read this fic on AO3!

The Richards College Playlist

Steve's Playlist

any art featured in the series title header and story-specific dividers was found on pinterest and is used in good faith. all credit goes to the original artists, as i could not find accurate credit for any. collage done by me

Spam liking my works will result in an automatic block!

ALL TIED UP: STEVE'S WEEK

–⊹– One: Saturday, currently.

–⊹– Two: Last Monday.

–⊹– Three: Last Tuesday.

–⊹– Four: Last Wednesday.

–⊹– Five: Last Thursday.

–⊹– Six: Saturday, still.

–⊹– Seven: Last Friday.

–⊹– Eight: Saturday, again.

–⊹– Nine: Saturday, again.

[hardboiledleggs]

You Looking at Me Looking at You ~ Steddie Week Day 6 @steddie-week

Acrid smoke belched from beneath the hood of his dingy van. Eddie sighed as he slammed his fists against the steering wheel and snatched his bag from the passenger’s seat with a groan. Just his luck.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled across the parking lot, eyes squinted against a bitter wind that was howling across the campus. This was the third time this month that the van had quit on him on his way to class, and he was fresh out of extra cash to pay for even a bus ticket, let alone a tow truck.

Eddie had just finished weighing the merits of walking home versus calling his Uncle Wayne, who lived in a trailer an hour away from campus, when he reached the squat building housing his favorite class, Intermediate Painting. He swung the door wide, breathing in the smell of canvas and turpentine, and stepped around the many easels scattered across the floor until he reached his favorite corner. Robin was already there, fiddling with her supplies, and her face broke into a toothy grin when she saw Eddie.

“Hiya, Munson! I was wondering if you were ever gonna get here. You’re usually so early, is something wrong?” she chirped as she busied herself with arranging her brushes.

Eddie flopped onto his stool with a huff. “It’s my stupid van. Fuckin’ blew another gasket or some shit. I thought it was gonna explode before I made it into the parking lot.”

She winced in sympathy. “That’s too bad, Eds. You can’t ask Wayne for any extra cash to maybe replace the engine or something?”

“No, no, I-I mean, I don’t want to bother him with something like this. He’s got a lot on his plate, and I’m an adult. I’m supposed to be figuring this stuff out on my own.”

“If you’re sure. Hey, you can always crash at my dorm tonight if you can figure out a way to sneak past Wheeler. She’s been taking her RA duties veeery seriously lately,” Robin rolled her eyes as she said this. “Apparently, Carol from 306 got busted when she went home for Thanksgiving. They went into her room for maintenance and it turns out she had snuck her boyfriend in and he was living there. Wheeler was pissed it happened under her nose.”

Eddie snorted. “Carol Perkins? From our English 101 class first semester? That doesn’t surprise me at all. Remember when she came in late for the exam covered in hickeys? She clearly doesn’t know how to be subtle.”

He grinned and began to sort through his own supplies as Robin cackled. Today was supposed to be a live model study, and he had been struggling with the assignments set to them regarding the human form so far. Eddie had been practicing sketching strangers in the park and at coffee shops, but Professor Bauman had insisted that he had yet to “capture the innate sexuality of the bare human form,” whatever that meant. He was determined to get it right today.

At that moment, Professor Bauman swept into the room, wearing a bright pink smock smattered with paint. He clapped his hands together, silencing the muted chatter in the room.

“Children, children! We have precious little time today for our artistry, so PLEASE let’s get started. I want you to focus on the proportions of your sketch today, making sure that we’re being as accurate as possible before any paint blesses the surface of your canvas.” He leveled a pointed look at Robin, who flushed and picked at a hole in the knee of her jeans. “If everyone is ready, I’ll go and grab our model for today.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at Robin. “Eat it, Birdie. You aren’t the favorite anymore.”

“Oh, please. You know he lets me call him Murray during office hours.”

“Ask him to boost my grade next time you’re in there, will you? Make yourself useful for once.”

Their squabbling was cut short as Bauman’s office door swung open and out stepped Adonis. Okay, it wasn’t really Adonis, but to Eddie, the model may as well have been the stunning Grecian figure. He was stark naked, of course, which allowed Eddie to see the moles that dotted his gleaming skin like dark constellations. His bronze hair was swept artfully off his forehead, almost gravity-defying in its levity. He was toned, but not overly muscular, and his chest was covered in a dense thicket of hair that Eddie wanted to press his face against. Eddie desperately worked to keep his eyes level with the model’s collarbone and not stray any farther down.

“Hi, everyone, I’m Steve. I’m just going to be doing one pose today, so I’ll be taking quick breaks to stretch every 30 minutes or so.” Steve had a nice voice, calm and alluring. “Feel free to come closer if you need a more detailed look at anything for your sketch, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

He smiled at the class, showing off a row of even white teeth. Professor Bauman shook Steve’s hand firmly and waved him toward the low table in the center of the room.

“Remember, let your hands be your brushes. Let the colors move through you and allow them to direct your movements. You have two hours. Begin, please!”

At that moment, Robin elbowed Eddie sharply in the ribs, forcing a hacking cough from his lungs as he took his first breath in what felt like hours.

“Jesus, Munson. Subtlety isn’t your strong suit either,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth.

Eddie spared her a glance of disdain before watching Steve lower himself onto the table, folding his arms underneath his head and bending one leg so his knee pointed skyward in a pose that showed off just how muscular his thighs were. Shaking himself, Eddie sorted through his pencils with a shaking hand until he found one light enough to begin his sketch with.

The next half hour was torturous. Eddie really did try for professionalism, carefully outlining Steve’s frame and sketching out the proportions for his hands, but every time the model shifted to grab a drink of water or stretch out his limbs, Eddie’s eyes drifted downward and he became so flustered his pencil would slip and mar his careful marks.

At the hour mark, Professor Bauman began to walk around the room to begin his critiques. He had this way of leaning into his students’ space and artfully picking apart their work that was equal parts impressive and unnerving. At Robin’s canvas, he paused for about a minute before remarking “Don’t be afraid to get up close and give the appropriate detail to the more intimate parts of our friend Steve,” which made Robin blush.

His gaze slide to Eddie’s work, and he broke into a pleased smile.

“Yes, Munson! This is what I have been looking for from you! Do you see how you’ve used the light in the room to bring the focus of your sketch to his face? And his expression, my God, so simultaneously haunting and sensual! Excellent work, keep it up!”

Bauman swept away in a dramatic fashion, leaving Eddie to bury his face in his hands. The word ‘sensual’ echoed around his skull. He wondered if Steve had been listening to that particular bit of the professor’s speech and internally debated whether it would be more embarrassing to leave now or possibly be stuck walking to the parking lot at the same time as the model.

Robin snorted, catching Eddie’s eye and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as he glowered at her. Leave it to Buckley to revel in his extreme embarrassment.

The class continued to sketch silently, save for the shuffling of supplies or a muffled curse when someone smudged their careful pencil lines. Eddie had almost completed his initial portrait when he got to the hands and frowned. Hands had never been his strong suit; they were always proportioned differently on each person, and there were too many knuckles and creases to ever look natural.

Sighing, he gathered some scrap paper and a pencil and shoved his stool back from his easel. He shuffled into the center of the room to Steve’s side, trying and failing to keep his eyes on the more appropriate parts of the model. Steve’s eyes flitted to his own, and he grinned up at Eddie, though he kept his body completely still.

“Need to see anything specific?” he asked quietly.

Eddie flushed beet-red. “Uh, your hands?” he asked, cringing internally at his indecisive tone.

Steve lifted one hand and placed it in Eddie’s palm. “Do your worst, Munson,” he said with a wink. “That is your name, right?”

His fingers were warm and solid against Eddie’s, and each nail was painted a different color, though most of the paint was chipping. Up this close, Eddie could smell a faint hint of something floral: Steve’s shampoo, maybe? He clutched Steve’s fingers and sat on the small stool next to the table, searching for his usual confidence.

“That’s my name, feel free to wear it out.”

A hastily-stifled laugh shook Steve’s chest, and he glared at Eddie in mock anger as Eddie’s ego preened under the positive attention.

“I really need this paycheck, dude, don’t screw this up for me. I can’t go back to scooping ice cream at the mall,” he whined.

Eddie smiled as he held Steve’s hand up, carefully bending and straightening each knuckle as he sketched.

“Sorry, big boy. I can’t just turn off my irresistible charm all willy-nilly. What if a handsome man walks in here and starts flirting with me? I have to be prepared for every possibility.”

“I thought a handsome man was already flirting with you,” Steve shot back, a glint in his warm brown eyes.

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, but he recovered quickly, glancing around the room in exaggerated confusion.

“Really? Where is he?”

Steve yanked his hand away, still grinning. “You wound me, Munson. I thought I had a sensual form? Maybe I’ll just take my talents elsewhere.”

Eddie finished his sketch with a flourish and stood, shrugging at the model still lying flat on the table in front of him.

“I suppose you can do that, but good luck finding another cute guy to flirt with in here,” he drawled.

“There’s always Professor Bauman,” Steve snarked, and Eddie snorted as he backed toward his easel.

As soon as he had flopped back into his seat and his face was hidden from Steve, Eddie spun to face Robin. She was already looking at him with a knowing expression on her face, one eyebrow lifted in an unspoken question.

“He’s so hot, Birdie. And funny. I’m going to die!” Eddie hissed at her, and she rolled her eyes at him fondly as she took in the panicked expression on his face.

“Just so you know, Mr. Hot-and-Funny watched your ass the entire walk back to your seat. Good thing you wore your tight jeans today,” Robin smirked.

Eddie flipped her off and schooled his face into a neutral expression. He refused to give her the satisfaction of flustering him.

When the professor told them to pack up for the day, Steve stretched languidly like a cat and loped into Bauman’s office. Eddie gazed after him dazedly, watching as his muscular thighs flexed and his ass bounced with every step. He would’ve been more embarrassed if there weren’t at least five other students doing the exact same thing.

Robin stood and sighed. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she tugged at a lock of Eddie’s hair.

“You sure you’ll be able to get home okay? I bet we could sneak you past Wheeler if we tried.” The genuine concern in her voice almost melted his resolve, but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about me, Buckley. I have enough duct tape to hold the old gal together for another few miles at least.” Her frown deepened, and he hastily added, “Besides, I don’t think Tammy likes me very much. The last time I was over I broke one of her mugs and she called me an ‘inbred hick’ or something charming like that. I still can’t believe you ever had a thing for her.”

Robin shook her head ruefully. “Alright, asshat. I’ll see you next week then. Call me when you get home so I know you lived.”

She left, barely catching the toe of her sneaker on the doorjamb and stumbling into the hall as she went. Eddie listened to her muffled curses as she tripped down the hall on the walk back to her dorm and grinned to himself.

He packed up his supplies carefully. This professional shit hadn’t been cheap, and he definitely couldn’t afford to replace his oil pencils if he ruined them. As he was stacking his canvas carefully in the back with the others, the door to the professor’s office opened and Steve stepped out, dressed now in simple blue jeans and a bright yellow sweater. He was frowning slightly and fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, but he straightened up and his face brightened when he spotted Eddie still lingering in the classroom.

“Hey, Munson! I was hoping I could catch you before you left,” he called as he hurried to Eddie’s side. “How did your piece turn out?”

“Not bad,” Eddie smiled. “Helped that the subject was cute, you know. I do my best work when I’m staring at hot people.”

Steve threw his head back in a genuine laugh as they began the walk through campus. His strides were much longer than Eddie’s, despite their similar heights, and Eddie found himself rushing a bit to keep up.

“So, are you majoring in Art?” Steve asked, his casual tone at odds with the searching intensity in his eyes.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I want to do tattoos for a living like my mom, so… art degree! College isn’t really my thing but I knew my uncle would get a real kick out of raising a college grad. I used to, you know, deal in high school, so he just about explodes with pride whenever he can tell somebody I’m a sophomore in college.” Eddie grinned ruefully at Steve. “Of course, the dealing is what made it possible to pay for these first couple of years, but there’s a mutual understanding to ignore that part of our finances.”

That drew out another laugh from Steve. Eddie felt the laugh settle somewhere in his chest, warming him from the inside despite the biting wind.

“So, what do you usually get up to after class?” Steve questioned. He was still picking at the loose threads on the ends of his sleeves like he was nervous, although he seemed perfectly comfortable walking with Eddie.

“Well, today I will be begging my uncle to come up and drive me home, probably. My van quit on me again this morning,” Eddie sighed as he scuffed his shoe along the edge of the sidewalk. He knew Wayne wouldn’t mind, but he felt horrible for interrupting his uncle’s sleep schedule because he couldn’t take care of his own vehicle.

“Damn. If only there was a cute guy around who would definitely drive you home if you asked nicely.” Steve snapped his fingers in an ‘aw shucks’ motion and sighed. “If only he had a really nice car and absolutely nothing to do tonight and is desperately trying to figure out a way to spend more time with you.”

Eddie’s heart leaped into his throat. Blush saturated his cheeks, staining them with pink, and he turned to look Steve in the eye.

“You better not be fucking with me, okay? You’re fun and I like you, so if you drive me home, it better not be the last time I see you.”

Steve gave him a long and searching look before grabbing Eddie’s hand and looping their fingers together.

“Well I, for one, am excited to see your place,” he said softly.

Eddie grinned and allowed himself to be tugged toward the parking lot a little faster than his legs could carry him.

~~~

Below as always is my permanent tag list for Steddie writings, if you want to be added or removed just let me know :)

Tag list: @brassreign @inmoonywetrust @kyoxyukiforever @spectrum-spectre @vampireinthesun @awkwardgravity1 @obsessivlyme @steddieassheg0es @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @sunflowers-and-knives @original-cypher @estrellami-1

[gracegrove]

In honor of my work-study job at the school library, have a tiny morsel. Also dedicated to my pal, @intothedysphoria

Steve walked into the university library, backpack casually draped on one shoulder.

He exhaled an already exhausted breath, puffing drooping bangs back into place.

"Mold..." Steve mumbled walking aimlessly down an aisle of books. "M".

He couldn't believe of all the topics to have to write a 10-page biology paper on, it would be about mold.

Walking up and down the stacks he frowned, the books weren't in alphabetical order. He crossed over to another section and kept looking. Still in the wrong section.

He walked up to the circulation desk to ask for help, "Excuse me, Miss?" he asked a blonde bun full of bouncing curls.

The librarian turned around, a young man about Steve's age, smirking widely. "Miss?"

Steve blushed, "Sorry, it's just your hair is so... I thought, I -" The blonde watched him fumble out an excuse with amusement. Blue eyes sliding up the length of Steve's frame, down one shoulder and eventually up the other as he chewed a piece of gum.

"Uh...." Steve paused, "Shouldn't you not have that in here?"

The blonde casually inflated a giant bubble, letting it burst with a startling POP! He smiled wolfishly, leaning across the counter, "The rules are for you to follow. Not me. Now, can I help you?"

Steve watched the boy's mouth slide back and forth, the gum piece poking out like a distracting lure on a line. "I uh... was looking for books."

"Don't say..." the blonde mused sarcastically with another popped bubble. "What kinda books?"

"Mold." Steve stated, boldly meeting the blonde's eyes. God, were they striking.

The blonde began typing on the large Apple computer, keys clacking. "Kind?"

"Any..." Steve shrugged, he didn't want to admit that he had fallen asleep through that part of the lecture.

The blonde typed some more before leaving the computer and coming around to the other side of the counter. "This way."

Together, they picked out a handful of books and returned to the desk, the blonde beginning the check-out process.

"Got your Student ID?"

Steve swung his backpack up onto the counter and began digging around. After emptying nearly all it's contents, he finally found it and handed it over.

"Steven..." the blonde concluded, "Cute."

"It's Steve," Steve corrected him.

"Well, Steve," the blonde stated, "I'm Billy, and I'll kill you if these are late. So be back in three weeks..."

He winked, stamping the check-out card and writing the due date on it. Steve picked the books off the counter and went to reach for the card, but Billy pulled his hand back.

"Make sure to read the renewal policy carefully," he warned, before reaching forward to hook a finger in Steve's shirt pocket and slip the card inside it. He gave Steve's chest pocket a small pat, smiled, and walked away.

Steve peeked inside his shirt pocket. On the check-out card along with the book's due date, was an address and a phone number.

[thezombieprostitute]

Coffee Shop AU

Barista!Steve

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Asks:

Casual Dom Tactics

[yikes-em]

Nap Away

For @astrangersummer week 2: afternoon nap

steddie | 976 words | gen/no warnings | college/modern

Read also on ao3

Tuesdays and Wednesdays are Steve’s weekends. He’s a hairstylist, a junior one at that, and works Thursday through to Monday. He and Eddie have no overlapping days off, Eddie’s from the bar falling on Sunday and Mondays, but Steve has his Tuesdays and Wednesdays. He goes grocery shopping, gives the plants of his their weekly watering should their routine require, doctor and dentists appointments. This Wednesday so happens to be Steve’s rare empty day. He’s already run the dishwasher and laundry, both audibly going in the kitchen. The bathroom is clean, they’d already agreed on pizza for dinner so no need for prep. Everything was right in the world. One glance at the clock told Steve, nested into a pile of blankets and pillows on the couch with a book, that Eddie should be home from his noon class shortly. The sound of keys in the doorknob confirmed that fact not even five minutes later.

“Heey, Stevie,” Eddie hums, bag dropping to the ground by their door as he toes his shoes off.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Steve muses back, dogearing the page. He pushes his glasses to the top of his head. “How was class?”

Eddie holds a finger to his lips with closed eyes. Steve understands. “I’ve gotta be back on campus in a few hours.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Right, thank you,” Steve hums. He adjusts his body to make room on the couch and tucks his book under the pillow beside him. “Sorry I forgot. How can I help you?”

Eddie blushes, kicking his feet up a little as he steps further into the living room to the beat of the music Steve’s got playing through the TV. He speaks through a yawn-- “I dunno.”

“Sleepy?”

“Yeah.”

“Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Need to do any work before class?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Eddie grins when his shins hit the couch. Steve reaches up for Eddie’s hips with both hands, holds him firmly, and presses a gentle kiss through his shirt just under Eddie’s belly button. “Whatcha reading?”

“Still trying to get through Watership Down.”

“Fuck yeah, baby, let me know if there’s anymore words you need help with?”

Steve nods. He moves his hands from Eddie’s sides up to grab his hands, tugging down at him. Eddie understands, sitting where Steve’s made space for him. Eddie yawns again and goes where he’s pulled until he’s flush against Steve’s body. The warmth on the couch grows as the shifting sun hits the front window just right and flashes rainbows through the lounge. It’s beautiful and safe and most importantly, theirs.

“How’s your day been, love?”

“Calm,” Steve hums lightly as he cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair. The dark green block of color taking up the left half of his bangs would be ready to be colored in the next few weeks, with his roots grown out a half inch already, but currently it was a tonedeaf and seasick teal. Sometimes Steve would find himself overcritical of his work, particularly on Eddie. Now, like it had been in the short months they’d been living together, his mind was quiet. Steve picked apart a few curls that clumped densely together.

“Good,” Eddie says, yawning yet again.

“When do you need to leave?”

Eddie takes a peek across the room at the same clock Steve had. “Class is at 5, I’ll be out at 6:15, I think. So leave around 4:30?”

“I’ll drop you off, we can leave quarter till. Go on and nap a bit, Eds.”

“You’re so chivalrous,” Eddie grins like a dope up at Steve. He nuzzles into Steve’s shirt, nose poking through the space between the buttons. Steve lets out a breathy giggle and pushes his face back. “I’m so lucky!”

“Yeah, you are.”

“You sure you’re comfortable?” Eddie asks, voice turning soft and genuine.

“Well, here, hang on.” Steve slides out from under Eddie with only a few grumbles, returning a minute later with a fresh glass of water and a small bowl of pre-cut strawberries with powdered sugar on top. Eddie whines again when he’s forced to hold himself up enough for Steve to return to his previous spot, but is quickly soothed by a few strawberries and a kiss on the head. “Alright, now we’re good. Nap away, my love.”

“I need to be up by 4 at least…” Eddie mumbles, all but a whisper. Steve nods as he wraps his arm around Eddie and pulls him close. He doesn’t wake Eddie until 4:15, a solid two hour nap in Steve’s opinion, with a kind nudge of his knee and kiss above Eddie’s ear after returning Watership Down to the coffee table. Eddie rouses slowly with a pathetic whine.

“Steeevieeeee,” He cries, wriggling around on Steve’s lap. “Sleeeeepyyyy…!”

“I know, baby,” Steve hums and shifts again so Eddie has no comfortable resting spot anymore. He sits up and rubs aggressively at his eyes. “Come on, tie your hair up and we can take a quick shower before I drop you off.”

“Hot?” Eddie peeks out from behind his knuckles.

“Yeah, Eds,” he laughs softly, already reaching for the hair tie around Eddie’s wrist. “Now, hop up, let’s go.”

Steve doesn’t even have time to dry his hair before they have to rush off, Eddie making it to class exactly on time. If they’d gotten a little carried away in the shower, who can blame them? But by the time Eddie returns home again there’s a hot meat lovers pizza on the coffee table, an episode of Jeopardy queued on TV, and Steve perched yet again in the middle of a blanket puddle on the couch. There’s no disagreements when Eddie further investigates and finds Steve in one of Eddie’s old band hoodies and just his boxers, limp hair sending thin clumps of waves over his forehead. Yeah, Eddie’s a lucky guy.

[talesofadragon]

Paint Me Midnight Blue Excerpt

“No. Art is versatile. It means that it doesn’t have one form. Anyone can be an artist. And it looks like you are one! Are you a secret artist too, Little Princess? My, my. Can I sneak a peek at those coloring books you have? 

The most radiant smile decorated Nyla’s face. The toddler excitedly squealed, reaching for her coloring books. One was already open, displaying a half-completed image of a ballerina. Nyla gripped her book tightly, proudly displaying her work for Steve to see. 

Instead of the soft pink and light colors that usually accompanied a ballerina’s image, her tutu was a vibrant shade of purple, and her hair decorated her face in a halo of wild embers—orange and phoenix red shadows hanging like an autumn crown atop her head. 

“This is…wow. I’m speechless.”

Y/N snorted, unable to rein in her expression at the double meaning behind her professor’s phrase. She covered it with a cough, distracting her daughter with a hand around her waist. 

Nyla, for her part, did not seem to understand or suspect any subliminal implication. She jabbed her finger across the page, tracing the purple tutu, reminiscent of Maleficent’s envenomed magic. 

“You said that art in New Express-ym is vibrant,” Nyla explained the reasoning behind her technique, emphasizing the “i” in vibrant. “I made the bal-rina in their style. Is it pretty?”

If you’re a fan of witty, poignant, and lighthearted stories with heartfelt moments, don’t miss out on Paint Me Midnight Blue. Dive into the world of this professor x student, age-gap, and single mother storyline, exploring love through the eyes of an artist. The series paints its narrative with the bliss and challenges of romance in a rich palette of deep midnight blue.

Catch parts 1 and 2 by clicking on the series' masterlist!

All Masterlists | Paint Me Midnight Blue Masterlist

[thesolarangel]

A touch of cinnamon and spice

Chapter 2

Summary: Eddie meets the handsome stranger again and finally learns his name.

2.566 words · Rated: G · College AU, no upside down · fluff, pining, getting together, cozy cute fall fanfic with minimum drama and zero angst or warnings!

Btw, Eddie is just kidding, he secretly digs Tears for Fears! Also: Freddie Mercury being bi probably wasn’t widespread knowledge in 1987, but it’s important for the plot to mention this.

Read on AO3 here

Chapter 2 · October 20th 1987 

Two weeks had passed and of course Eddie couldn’t get him out of his head. His mind was constantly spinning around the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Right now Jonathan, Argyle and him were at the cafeteria, standing in line to get  lunch. Eddie was shoveling tater tots onto his plate when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Hey, um, you’re the artist.” 

He turned and saw the handsome stranger from art class standing next to him. His hair looked perfect and so effortlessly styled as the last time Eddie saw him. He was wearing a white tee with a Queen print on it as well as tight blue jeans and a dark blue coat. Play it cool, Eddie thought to himself.

“Oh hey, I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.” Eddie blurted out. Not like that.

The brunette made a bewildered face. And not just him, Jonathan looked reasonably confused as well. Argyle just giggled at Eddie’s comment.

“I’ll explain later”, Eddie murmured to his friends. He turned to the handsome stranger. “Hey… you.” he ended, smiling awkwardly.  

“Steve”, he responded, slightly amused.

“I’m Eddie”, he introduced himself, “this is Jonathan and Argyle.” 

“Oh, we have English together, right?” Steve asked Jonathan.

“Um, yeah, I remember you”, Jonathan replied and then gestured to Steve’s band shirt. “Great taste in music, man.”

“Thanks!” Steve beamed at him. “Hammer to fall is one of my favorite songs.”

Pretty, big dick AND loves rock music? Eddie looked at him wide-eyed. He wasn’t sure this guy was even real. 

Before he got caught staring again, he tried to set up a conversation: “So what do you study?”

“I wanna be a middle school teacher. English and PE. I was just helping out with the modeling thing”, he shrugged, like it was nothing, getting butt naked in front of a full class of strangers.

“Um, wanna share a table?" Eddie asked, putting his tray down on a nearby table, where the group had sat down.

“Oh, I already had lunch, I gotta go, see ya!” Steve waved.

Eddie watched Steve leave the cafeteria, leaving him quite astonished. Did he just come over to say hi to him? To get his name?

“He’s really pretty…”, Argyle commented while absentmindedly digging into his pasta.

Jonathan mustered Eddie’s face curiously and smirked “So, what was up with that comment? Did you meet in the showers for the first time or what?”

“Oh, noo, much better.” 

…

In the evening, back at Eddie’s and Jonathan’s dorm room, they were munching on some pizza that Argyle had brought with him. Eddie had just told them the whole story about how he met Steve. In the nude. And how he got caught peeping. But Steve didn’t react badly and called him a freak, which is how this scene would have probably played out at Eddie’s old high school.

“He seemed amused, I guess?” Eddie ended, taking a big bite of his pizza.

“What a sight he must’ve made, dude”, Argyle mumbled with his mouth full. “I am totally not immune to pretty people like him, jeez…”

Jonathan took another slice and reflected on what Eddie had told them “So, he seems like the stereotypical jock… do you think he likes guys?”

“UGH, I don’t knoooow, I’m already crushing so hard, fuck!” Eddie cried out, slumping back into his chair dramatically, hiding his face beneath both hands. Jonathan patted his knee sympathetically.

“Oh! OH!” Argyle blurted out, waving his arms around with a slice of pizza still in his hand “He likes Queen and Freddie Mercury is bi, sooo...”, he looked at his friends, eager to get a big reaction.

“I guess that means he’s definitely not homophobic. But bi? I dunno…” Eddie frowned. “It seems too good to be true, I guess?”

“Nah, don’t think like that, man. You gotta believe that the universe has good things in store for you, that’s how I do it”, Argyle laid out his wisdom.

Jonathan and Eddie stared at him for a few seconds and then burst out in laughter. 

…

Since the day at the cafeteria it seemed like Eddie met Steve everywhere on campus.

In the hallway, when he went to get some books from his dorm room and heard some high pitched laughter behind him. He turned and saw Steve, a few feet away. He was currently being swarmed by a flock of four pretty girls and couldn't seem to shake them off. One girl, Tammy Thompson, brushed over his arm flirtingly and laughed. Eddie recognized her annoying voice and big curly blonde hair. She was in one of his art courses this semester. Rolling his eyes at what he witnessed, Eddie fetched his books, shut the door a little too hard behind him and left for his next class.

…

 The next time he ran into Steve, he literally crashed into him at the library.

“Oof!” 

The books and pens Eddie had been holding fell to the floor. “Oh god, sorry!” he muttered and knelt down to pick everything up. When he looked up to see who he had bumped into, his eyes met… Steve’s, who was now also on the floor, helping Eddie. He was wearing a pair of slim round framed glasses which suited him exceptionally well. 

“Oh, hey.” 

“Hi…” Steve offered him a charming smile. When he handed him the last pens that had fallen out of his pencil case, Eddie realized how close they were and his heart made a sudden jump. Steve smelled so good… woodsy and slightly sweet, maybe cinnamon? 

“Thanks…” Eddie smiled back as he got up again and so did Steve. 

“What are you working on?” Steve asked.

“German Romanticism”, Eddie replied, pointing him to the cover of a large illustrated book on top of the pile he was carrying. “We’re supposed to create our own painting in the style of that period.”

“Sounds tough, those look really detailed”, Steve said as he studied the book cover.

“Oh, I’m all about romance, so it shouldn’t be too hard.” Eddie joked, giving Steve a wink.

“Right, um…” Steve blushed and adjusted his glasses awkwardly. “I'd better go, I have a paper to write. See you around!” And so he left Eddie standing there a little lost. 

Maybe he was straight after all.

Eddie tried not to give it too much thought. But his first few drafts of his assignment on German Romanticism turned out to look very gloomy.

…

The third time their paths crossed was when Eddie’s art course was practicing dynamic sketching. It was a sunny, mild October day and their tutor had agreed to let them go outside to sketch as long as they stayed on campus grounds.

He found a cozy looking spot under a large orange oak tree. From there he had an excellent view of the front entrance of the building, students walking around or enjoying their break on the benches and tables nearby. 

Eddie put on his headphones, pressed play on his walkman and let himself immerse into some Metallica while drawing. The best way for him to concentrate was and had always been with metal.

He had been sitting there and sketching for a while when he saw someone come up to him in the corner of his eye.

“Hey, Eddie.”

Steve stood in front of him, smiling. He looked dashing as ever, dressed in a cozy multicolored sweater and a pair of blue jeans. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today.

“Hey”, Eddie greeted him, taking off his headphones. “What brings you here, Stevie?” he said, giving him a charming smile back.

“I have a free period and thought I’d hang out here since the weather is so nice today”, he said, sitting down comfortably in the grass beside Eddie. “What are you drawing?”

“Oh, I’m just doing some sketching of things and people around me, nothing special”, he fidgeted with his sketchbook.

“Can I have a look?” Steve asked politely.

“Sure”, Eddie replied, handing him his sketches. 

Steve skimmed through the pages, occasionally pausing to take a closer look. “Woah, you’re really talented”, he said in awe. “Can I see the drawings you made of me the other time?”

“Sure, hang on.” Eddie’s heart began to thumb violently in his chest. Steve asked to see the nude drawings he had made of him in class. He took the sketchbook from Steve and searched for the right pages. “Here”, he said and handed it back to him.

A cool autumn breeze blew through Steve’s hair, leaving it slightly disheveled, but it didn’t bother him. 

Cute…

“These are beautiful…”, he whispered while observing the drawings Eddie had made of him. 

“Thank you…” Eddie’s face went a little red at that. He still couldn’t deal with compliments very well, but he tried.

“Would you draw me again?”

Steve quickly added “My portrait that is…” when he saw Eddie’s shocked expression.

“Right now?”

“You gotta practice, right? So, draw me!”

“Um, okay…”, Eddie indulged him, browsing the sketchbook to find a blank page.

“How do you want me?” Steve grinned at him cheekily.

Eddie grinned back and asked “Can I?”

“Go for it.”

Eddie put his hands softly on both of Steve’s shoulders and turned him slightly.

“And then… just turn your head a little to the side, but not all the way…” Eddie carefully tilted Steve’s chin with one hand. He felt a little stubble beneath his fingertips. Eddie felt warm all over, touching him, being so close to him and knowing Steve was watching his every move closely. “Alright, stay like this, okay? I’m gonna need maybe 10 minutes or so…”

“Gotcha.” Steve affirmed, a small smile on his lips.

Eddie started sketching the rough outlines and proportions of Steve’s head and shoulders with a pencil. Then he mapped out his beautiful features one by one: His big eyes with thick eyebrows, his strong nose, pouty lips with a prominent cupid’s bow and his square jaw and Adams’ apple.

He did his best to capture the shape of Steve’s bright hazel eyes that were watching him closely. He duplicated his numerous cute moles and freckles on his cheeks and throat onto the sketchbook. 

Eddie paused and held the sketch at arm length away from him to see if he got the proportions right. He studied Steve’s face once again and he could have sworn he caught Steve staring at his lips for a split second. He smirked, but decided not to say something and continued his work.

Steve’s ears were mostly hidden by his brown hair which framed his face perfectly, the way it flowed up and curved down. He outlined Steve’s sideburns and then drew some individual strands of hair on the top of his head and the sides to give it more depth. Then he proceeded to replicate the pattern of Steve’s sweater onto the paper and added some soft shading to the whole drawing. Eddie continued until he was satisfied with the likeness of the portrait. 

“Alright, I’m done.” Eddie sighed and turned around the sketchbook for Steve to see.

“Oh, wow…this is amazing”, Steve’s eyes swept over the details of the drawing and then back to Eddie. “This is how you see me?”

“Do you not own a mirror, man?” Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“I do, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Steve interrogated him further with a daring smile.

“Oooh, you want me to tell you how pretty you are, is that it, pretty boy?” Eddie teased him, leaning forward, one hand on Steve’s chin again. 

Steve’s face and neck went ablaze and he started stuttering “You – that’s not –”

Finally. He had rendered Steve to a babbling mess. 

“You’re so cute when you’re all flustered.”

“Shut up.”

Eddie grinned from ear to ear, feeling very satisfied with himself. 

Steve was still a little pink, but he tried to get a hold of himself again and straightened out his back. “Hey, what have you been listening to before?” He wanted to know, gesturing to Eddie’s walkman.

“Oh, uh, Metallica… the album is called “Ride the lightning”, do you know it?”

“Not yet, can I have a listen?”

Eddie handed over the walkman to him and Steve put on the headphones. Eddie skipped the cassette tape to “Fade to black” since it was his favorite song of the album.

Steve laid back in the grass with his legs drawn up. He listened to the whole song with his eyes closed while Eddie went back to sketching for his art course.

After a while Steve sat up and took off the headphones. “This is really cool, I might have to get that album”, Steve said, a faint smile curling his lips. Eddie was elated to hear that he liked it “What else do you like besides Metallica?”

Eddie felt a spark of joy at being asked about his music. Naturally, he dove into a whole enthusiastic monologue about his interests with Steve listening closely and asking questions here and there. 

Eddie talked about the best metal concerts he had visited, that time they had to drive 6 hours to see Judas Priest live, but it had been so worth it and the time he had met Gareth, when they were twelve and founded their band Corroded Coffin. 

“We started out by doing covers, just the standard stuff like Metallica, Dio, Black Sabbath. But right now, we’re working on some original songs and Jeff, he’s our guitarist, his writing is so great!” Eddie ended with a bright smile.

Steve grinned, studying Eddie’s face.

“What? What did I do?” Eddie chuckled.

“Nothing…” Steve blushed, still smiling, but looking away. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled, but in a really hot way. “You’re so passionate about all of this stuff… I don’t think I know anyone like you.”

“‘Course you don’t! Nobody is like me! Only I am like me”, Eddie commented playfully.

“You know what I mean”, Steve laughed.

“For what it’s worth, you’re not at all what I thought you’d be like… you know, not a typical jock”, Eddie shrugged.

“Gee, thanks!” Steve blurted out.

“What I meant was… I always see you surrounded by girls, you’re very popular and you’re obviously very handsome and I just know your type, ok!” 

The type that bullied me in high school… 

“At least I thought I did. But… I’ve changed my mind about you. You’re not just a pretty face, you’re actually fun to be around.” Eddie, who was slightly blushing now, scratched the back of his head and looked back at Steve.

“Thanks…” Steve’s expression was kind. Eddie was relieved. Opening up like this wasn’t his strong suit.

“What about you? Any favorite artists?”

“Tears for Fears, definitely!”

“Oh god, no, Stevie, noo.” 

…

Later that day, Eddie was back at his dorm, unpacking his backpack when he found a bright orange piece of paper in the side pocket.

He unfolded the paper and it read in large black letters: “Halloween bash at Jared’s!” with an address underneath.

But on the back someone had scribbled in neat handwriting:

See you there, hopefully – Steve

Eddie grinned to himself. Steve must have sneaked it in there this afternoon. He already knew what his costume was gonna be and if the party meant he would see Steve again… he’d better make it tempting.

To be continued...

tag list: @starlady66 @bananaphanta @runawaymun @mistergandalf @fenharel-enaste @queenmeriadoc @elronds-pointy-ears @hbyrde36 @hammity-hammer @corrodedbisexual @spoookysix @rozzieroos @cranberrymoons

devider by @firefly-graphics

[rogerswifesblog]

Maybe i should post the next chapter the devil I desire….👀 (yes I forgot to do it tbh)

Moodboard for the next chapter, what do you think will happen?🫣

[daddytonysgirl17]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Peter Parker, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Brock Rumlow, Justin Hammer, Helmut Zemo, Maria Hill, Maria Stark, Howard Stark, Wanda Maximoff Additional Tags: Forbidden Love, Student Tony Stark, Teacher-Student Relationship, Falling In Love, Tony Stark Loves Steve Rogers, Teacher Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Steve Rogers Feels, Supportive Natasha Romanov, Creepy Brock Rumlow, College, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy Summary:

Tony Stark is a 18 year old college student. After breaking up with his boyfriend Brock Rumlow things was difficult.Tony’s heart was broken.

But then this beautiful, grown up man showed up...

[steddieworks]

you can change (right next to me) - iv

hi!! I'm so sorry that it has taken me forever and a day to update but life has just been busy and hectic lately! I also haven't really been in the mood for writing lately, and I didn't want to post something half-assed just to say i've posted

that being said... here's chapter 4 of the tutor au! things got away from me this chapter and so i'm fairly certain the new chapter count will be a bit longer, but we'll just have to see how the next couple of them go!

happy reading!

read on ao3

Summary:

Steve’s got a soft look on his face when Eddie meets his gaze. “I think I’m ready to go to the doctor for my hearing problems,” he whispers.

Eddie grins, and knows that he probably looks ridiculous, but he literally can’t help it. Steve is being brave - braver than Eddie would ever be, probably, and doing the things that scared him, and Eddie can only hope that someday he’ll be able to do that too.

or,

Steve makes a decision.

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: swearing, mild smut, discussions of disabilities

It takes about a week for Steve to make up his mind about the hearing thing.

And in that week, Eddie feels tortured, or maybe blessed, with Steve wearing his glasses. He shows up to class Monday without them, but when Eddie catches him squinting at the board, he walks by and murmurs a soft, “forgetting something?”

Steve seems flustered by it, but digs them out with a huff. He glares at Eddie for a few minutes, or tries to at least, before he breaks, sliding them onto his face and giving him a soft little smile. Eddie grins, waggling his eyebrows and mouthing the word “hot” at him, which only makes Steve blush.

They’re so obvious with it that Barbera fake-gags, which embarrasses Eddie just enough to stop flirting until the end of class. He means to catch Steve before he leaves, just to check in with him and make sure they’re still on for their tutoring session the next day, but Steve is out the door before Eddie even finishes packing his bag. He tries not to take it personally, and when Tuesday rolls around and Steve does show up for their tutoring session, Eddie knows it isn’t really about him. Still, he’s not oblivious to the fact that Steve keeps things strictly business, all school-related talk and nothing else, and this trend continues for the rest of the week.

It’s Friday evening when something finally changes.

They’re at the library for their usual tutoring session, and Eddie is watching Steve as he writes the answer to one of the workbook’s questions, his hand moving slowly and carefully as he writes. It’s quiet in their little pocket of space in the corner, so Eddie notices immediately when someone approaches them on Steve’s bad side.

Not that Steve has a bad side, exactly. It’s just, like… the side he can’t hear from.

The person, who Eddie vaguely recognizes from the history lecture, says, “hey, Steve, do you happen to have the notes from Wednesday?”

Steve doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even look up.

Eddie gives the girl - Delilah? Dina? Something like that - a small smile before reaching out and touching Steve’s wrist.

“Hm?” Steve says, still not looking up.

“Honey, you’ve got a visitor,” Eddie says, voice quiet but close enough to Steve’s good ear that his gaze snaps up, then over, flushing when he sees the girl standing there.

“Oh, hey Nicole,” he says, clearly embarrassed.

Nicole? Close enough.

“Hey, Steve,” she says, clearly confused. “Um, I was just asking if you happened to have the notes from Wednesday. I had a doctor’s appointment and you’re the first person I’ve seen from that class since then.”

There’s a panic-stricken look on Steve’s face as he processes her words. “Oh, um…” he says, shuffling his papers around. Eddie knows his notebook is in his bag still, and he knows that Steve does have the notes, and yet he says, “I don’t have them with me, actually.”

“Oh,” Nicole says, her face falling. “Okay, then. Well, um. Thanks anyway.” She starts to walk away, but Eddie stops her.

“Hey, Nicole? I’ve got the notes, so I can email them to you when I get home,” Eddie tells her. His hand is still resting on Steve’s wrist, so he notices it when Steve turns his hand over, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. Eddie thinks it might be a little thank you.

“Oh, perfect! Thanks so much, Mr. Munson,” she says. “I’ll see you guys Monday!”

Eddie smiles and waves at her with his free hand, while Steve just nods at her before turning back to his work. When his pencil doesn’t move, however, Eddie frowns. “What’s the matter, baby?” he asks, speaking softly.

Steve shrugs, then sniffles, covering his face with his free hand and shaking his head.

Oh.

“Oh, babe,” Eddie sighs sympathetically, scooting his chair closer and bringing his hand up to gently rub Steve’s back. “I… I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through with this. But, can you talk to me? Tell me what part is bothering you?”

Steve shakes his head again, then seems to change his mind and nods instead. “I just…” He trembles, and Eddie waits, patiently rubbing circles onto his back and squeezing his hand again. “Now that I’m like, aware of it, I’m starting to hyperfixate on it.”

“On what?” Eddie asks, although he’s pretty sure he already knows.

“The hearing thing. Like… How many fucking times have I just sat and ignored someone because I just couldn’t fucking hear them?” He’s getting a little louder than is probably acceptable at a library, so Eddie gently shushes him. He looks sheepish for a moment, lowering his head to rest on their intertwined hands. “I just… I don’t know. I feel broken.”

Eddie’s heart fucking shatters when he hears that. He hates to imagine that Steve has been dealing with these feelings by himself for so long before now, but he knows that he probably has. The only thing he can do now is be there for him, but thinking about a younger Steve, struggling with this alone, almost makes him sick.

“I know, Stevie. I mean… I haven’t been through this, but I get the whole… feeling broken thing. But you’re not broken.” A heavy silence falls upon them, and he hopes Steve can read the subtext, because he’s just not sure if he can spell it out for him just yet.

Apparently, he doesn’t need to. Steve tilts his head, looking up at Eddie and giving him a frown. “You’re not broken, either.” Before Eddie can protest, Steve sits up straight, leaning into Eddie’s space a bit more than he normally would, his hand coming up to cup Eddie’s jaw. “No. If I’m not broken, then neither are you. We’re… we’re okay.”

Eddie gives him a little smile, and an easy agreement. “We’re okay,” he says softly. He tilts his head, catching Steve’s hand and pressing a little kiss to his palm. He just can’t help himself.

Steve’s got a soft look on his face when Eddie meets his gaze. “I think I’m ready to go to the doctor for my hearing problems,” he whispers.

Eddie grins, and knows that he probably looks ridiculous, but he literally can’t help it. Steve is being brave - braver than Eddie would ever be, probably, and doing the things that scared him, and Eddie can only hope that someday he’ll be able to do that too.

He kisses Steve’s hand again, holding it in both of his and smiling at him. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs. “I’m serious, Steve. I know you don’t want to go, and it’s scary, but I’m so fucking proud of you for deciding that it’s worth it to try.”

Steve has a sort of bashful look on his face, but Eddie’s not backing down. He wants Steve to know, without a doubt, how supportive he is of this decision. “Well, it’s not really that big of a deal,” he mumbles.

Eddie shakes his head. “Okay, maybe not. But that doesn’t mean it’s not scary. That doesn’t mean it’s not brave to do it. And that doesn’t make me any less proud of you.” He uses Steve’s hand that he’s got trapped in his to boop him on the nose.

Steve looks sort of embarrassed, but smiles, ducking his head. “Will you go with me again?” He asks, studying their hands. He brings his other hand down to tangle their fingers together, and Eddie lets him, helpless to intervene when he’s being so sweet and touchy after so many days without it.

“Of course,” Eddie replies immediately. “Always. Anytime you need me, darlin’, I’m there.”

He watches as Steve’s face flushes, and he has to bite back a grin. He’s so easy to rile up, even when Eddie isn’t particularly trying to. “Okay,” Steve mumbles. “We should… finish this?” He sounds uncertain.

Eddie nods, though honestly he could give a fuck less about the stupid worksheet that Murray assigned. “Sure, Stevie. And I can drive you home when we’re done, if you want.”

Steve pulls his right hand away from Eddie’s to grab his pencil, but taps it on the book a few times before speaking. “I was actually thinking… Maybe I could go back to yours? And we could, um… watch a movie or something?” He sounds so hopeful, and has an air of forced nonchalance that Eddie can’t help but smirk at.

Then what he’s asking sets in. “Uh…” Eddie hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to spend more time with Steve, or course not. But because… he’s not sure he’ll be able to maintain this quasi-friendly distance between them if they’re all alone in his apartment.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Steve mumbles after a minute of silence. “I just-“

Apparently Eddie has even less self control than he thought, because he just nods and smiles. “No, yeah. Let’s do that. You said you’ve never seen Lord of the Rings, right?” He’s mostly joking, but the wide-eyed, panicked look that fills Steve’s face then just solidifies it. “It’s a long one, so you’ll have to hurry up if you wanna be able to finish it tonight.”

Steve sighs like he regrets ever asking, but gives Eddie a little smile when he looks back down at his work. “Alright.”

~~~

Eddie doesn’t actually make Steve rush through the assignment, but he hints at the correct answers more frequently than he normally would. If Steve notices the difference, he doesn’t say anything, and when he finishes, he lets Eddie help him pack up his things without argument.

If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve was… excited.

But surely that can’t be the case. Steve had never shown any interest in any of Eddie’s nerd shit before now, so surely there’s something else. Then again, if Steve’s excited/nervous for the same reason that Eddie himself is… that might be a problem in and of itself.

“How long did you say this movie was again?” Steve asks as Eddie is driving them away from campus, towards his apartment.

“Well,” Eddie says, hesitating. “Um… I don’t think I did.”

“What?” Steve glances at him, clearly confused.

Eddie scratches his chin awkwardly. “I didn’t say how long it was,” he admits, biting his lip a little and avoiding meeting Steve’s gaze.

“Oh,” Steve says. A few seconds later, he shrugs. “Okay.”

Eddie balks at him. Surely he’s not just giving in that easily? Without any sort of estimate about when he can expect to go home?

“Do you… not want to know how long it is?” Eddie asks. The fun has run its course if Steve’s not playing along, but Eddie had expected the joke to last a bit longer, if he’s honest.

Steve just shrugs again. “It doesn’t really matter to me,” he says casually. When Eddie glances at him, Steve is already turned to face him fully. Eddie feels a little bad for avoiding eye contact so far on the drive, realizing acutely that Steve relies on lip-reading significantly. “Are you gonna make me go home if I fall asleep during it?”

Eddie blinks at him. He can feel his face flushing a little, at even the suggestion of the alternative. That he should just let Steve sleep over, like they’re friends, when they are most certainly not.

“Um,” Eddie says, stupidly. “Probably not. For starters, that would be really shitty of you, to fall asleep during the best cinematic masterpiece of our time, and secondly,” he pauses to glance the opposite way before turning right at a stop sign. He normally wouldn’t bother, but… precious cargo. “I could never be that cruel. It’s a long one. And since it’s your first time, I’ll let it slide if you fall asleep.”

Steve makes a noise that’s a bit like a laugh or a snort, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s got a smirk on his face. “That sounded a bit dirty,” he teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “No, you’re just dirty-minded. Get your thoughts out of the gutter, Harrington.”

“What if I want them in the gutter?” Steve says, sly and coy.

Eddie clears his throat. “Um.”

Luckily, Steve takes pity on him. “Can we order Chinese?”

~~~

They do order Chinese, and while they wait for it to arrive, Eddie frets about setting up the movie.

“Now this is god-tier shit, alright? And there’s all these layers to the lore, so if you have a question I’ll have to pause the whole thing and-“ Eddie is explaining all this as he’s turned away, but he pauses when he turns around and finds Steve staring at him. He’s got this little smile on his lips, and it takes Eddie a second to get it. “You couldn’t hear any of that, could you?”

Steve breaks out into a full grin at that. “Not really. It sounded sort of muffled, but I got bits and pieces of it.”

Eddie shakes his head, embarrassed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I-“

Steve steps towards him, shaking his head. “Don’t… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Eddie says quietly, hyper-aware of the lack of space between them.

“Don’t treat me like I’m broken. Just… treat me the way you always do.” Steve’s voice breaks, and so does Eddie’s heart.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie sighs. He reaches out for Steve, pulling him into a tight hug. Luckily, Steve goes willingly. “I’m sorry. I’m not… I’m really not trying to treat you differently, like, in a bad way. I’m just trying to be more accommodating, now that I sort of know how.”

Steve nods. “I know. I just… I really hate being like this, Eddie.”

Eddie’s heart feels like lead in his chest, his ribs too tight around the organ. “I know,” he mumbles against Steve’s hair, rubbing his back in long, smooth motions. “Well… not completely, but… I understand why you’re frustrated.”

Steve sniffles. Eddie kisses the top of his head, not even caring if Steve feels the affectionate touch. “Yeah,” he says, tiredly. “Can we just watch the movie? And… and not talk about all my problems?”

Eddie nods, but pulls back to look at him. “Okay, but let me say one last thing?” Steve shrugs, so Eddie takes that as an agreement. “You’re allowed to talk about these things with me. I know you feel weird about it, but just know that I’ll always listen if you need to talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees quietly. “Thanks, Eddie.”

Helpless to his own stupid urges, Eddie leans in again to kiss Steve’s forehead. “Alright. Movie time.”

~~~

The food comes as they’re gathering up pillows and blankets and all the snuggly things that Eddie can find in his apartment. They build a fort of sorts on his sofa, and between the two of them, they’re laughing and giggling at the absurdity of it all, the child-like glee from playing like kids again.

“You know, I’ve never been able to use chopsticks,” Eddie notes vaguely as they settle in to start eating.

“Really?” Steve asks, all curious and amused. “I could teach you, if you want.”

Eddie looks over at him, surprised. “Would you really?”

Steve shrugs. “Sure, why not. C’mere.”

So that’s how Eddie finds himself, sitting in front of Steve, his ass barely hanging onto the edge of the couch, Steve’s thighs bracketing his hips. Eddie’s not sure this is an entirely foolproof method, but he doesn’t argue when Steve tells him where to sit.

“Alright, so, you just hold the bottom one steady like this,” Steve explains, demonstrating on his own hand. “And then the top one is used like a pincer. You just use it to pinch your food.”

Eddie nods, turning his head so that Steve will be able to hear him. “Sounds simple enough.”

Steve smiles, reaching for his hand. “Alright, let me show you how to hold it.” He goes through the whole routine again, this time positioning the chopsticks between Eddie’s fingers instead of his own. “Okay, now try to get a piece of chicken.”

Eddie reaches forward, but nearly slides off the couch in the process. “Man, I don’t think this is the best seating arrangement you’ve ever come up with.”

“Hm?” Steve hums against his shoulder, his arm slipping around Eddie’s waist to hold him. Eddie’s not sure this will prevent him from tumbling off the couch, but he’s not about to turn down the almost-cuddle.

“I said I don’t think this is the best seating arrangement,” Eddie repeats, turning his head to the side to glance back at Steve. “Even though you make one hell of a seatbelt,” he says with a smirk.

Steve blushes, pinching Eddie’s stomach lightly. “Behave,” Steve says when Eddie squeals. “And pick up the chicken! We’re losing precious daylight hours here.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, even as he leans forward once more to try and use the chopsticks. “Fine,” he mumbles. It takes him a few tries, but eventually he does manage to pinch a piece of chicken between the ends of the chopsticks. “Look! I did it!” He cheers, turning quickly in his excitement to show Steve.

Of course, that’s exactly when the chicken slips out from between the chopsticks, landing on the floor.

Eddie sighs. “Fuck this,” he says solemnly, going to put the chopsticks down in exchange for a fork.

“Hey,” Steve protests, reaching around him to scoop the chopsticks back up. “Just because you’re trash at it now doesn’t mean you can’t learn. Here, watch what I do.” Steve carefully leans forward, his arm tightening around Eddie’s chest to hold him still. Eddie feels like he can barely breathe as he watches Steve easily scoop up a piece of chicken with the chopsticks, expertly bringing it out of the bowl without dropping it.

Eddie expects Steve to eat the morsel himself, so he’s surprised when instead, the chopsticks halt in front of his mouth. “Here,” Steve says softly.

He almost wants to tease him, but the fear of breaking the moment altogether forces Eddie to just accept it, opening his mouth and letting Steve feed him. “Mm.”

“Is it good?” Steve asks, his hand beginning to trace meaningless shapes on Eddie’s stomach.

“Yeah,” Eddie finds himself whispering, his throat feeling a little tight, and not because of the food.

What use are their stupid boundaries about kissing if they’re going to do shit like this? He wonders.

“Want to try again?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, maybe next time.”

“Okay,” Steve says easily enough. Eddie expects him to push him away now, grab a fork and both of them eat like normal people.

That’s not what happens.

Instead, Steve shuffles in his seat, lifting up his legs and carefully draping them over Eddie’s. “Is this okay?” He whispers.

Eddie swallows hard, but nods. His idea of “okay” is so skewed as of now, he really doesn’t know what qualifies anymore. “Yeah, it’s okay,” he mumbles.

Steve crosses his legs over Eddie’s lap, and if Eddie didn’t feel so choked up, he’d probably laugh at the way he’s basically got a human backpack.

“Can you hold my food for me? So I don’t have to lean so far?” Steve asks, his arm tightening around Eddie’s chest.

Eddie nods, but glances back at Steve before he grabs the take-out container for him. “Are you sure it wouldn’t just be easier to sit beside me?”

Steve blushes. “I mean… yeah, it would.” He doesn’t say anything else, staring at Eddie with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Eddie laughs, reaching for the take-out container with a hand on one of Steve’s ankles. “Here you go, baby.”

He holds the carton close to Steve’s right hand to make it easier on him, then frowns at his own plate. He’s not sure exactly how they’re going to manage it like this, to be honest. He’s pulled from his thoughts when Steve hums in his ear.

“Bite?” Steve says softly, holding out a piece of chicken at the end of his chopsticks.

“Oh,” Eddie replies, surprised. “Are you sure? I can just eat mine.”

Steve shrugs, and for a split second, Eddie thinks he feels the briefest press of lips to his shoulder blade. “We can share,” Steve suggests.

Eddie turns his head just a bit, and their noses brush with the movement. Neither of them move away. “You just want to steal some of my orange chicken,” Eddie accuses teasingly.

Steve blinks, his eyes wide and innocent. “Who, me?”

And really, what happens next is all Steve’s fault.

He licks his lips, just a quick dart of tongue against chapped pink, and Eddie’s eyes drop to follow the movement, helpless.

When his eyes flick back up to meet Steve’s, the innocent look is gone, replaced by something darker, something more intense. Steve carefully sticks his chopsticks back into the carton of chicken and rice, his thumb coming to rub the back of Eddie’s hand, pushing it towards the table.

“Put it back,” Steve says quietly, no need for volume when his breath is already caressing Eddie’s ear.

Eddie obeys immediately, leaning forward and placing the carton back on the table before attempting to twist in Steve’s grip, desperate to face him, to see what will happen next. “Steve,” Eddie murmurs, a little annoyed at the lack of movement he’s being allowed.

Steve doesn’t let him struggle for long. He wiggles to the side of Eddie, pulling his left leg with him as he goes. Eddie hears himself whine sadly, but before he can lament the loss of Steve’s warmth properly, he’s shifting again, and suddenly Eddie has a lapful of Steve Harrington.

“Um,” Eddie says, very eloquently. Thank you, English degree.

Steve is staring down at him from his new perch, his eyes a little wild. His hands are shaking a bit as he brings them up to rest on Eddie’s shoulders, but his voice is calm when he speaks. “I know we decided this was a bad idea,” he says, his voice strong and even. “But, I also think that if I don’t kiss you within the next five minutes, I might die.”

Eddie cracks a grin at that. “You think so?”

Steve nods solemnly. “You can tell me to fuck off if you really don’t want to,” he whispers, leaning in close and brushing his lips against Eddie’s cheek, right where it dimples. “But I… I’ve been thinking about it all day, and…” he pauses, pulling back just a fraction. “I happened to be looking at the student handbook for the university.”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow at that. “Oh? You just happened to be looking at that?”

Steve’s face is definitely a little pink, but he nods, apparently committed to that version of the story. “Yes. And it says that student/professor relationships are frowned upon, but not technically illegal.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie’s heart is racing. He’s certain he’s got this deer-in-the-headlights look on his face, one that Steve must be able to read as clear as day, even with the reading difficulties he definitely possesses.

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “And since you’re not technically my professor…” His lips drag down Eddie’s jaw, nipping gently when he gets close to Eddie’s ear. “And if this is just sex, not a relationship…”

Eddie’s stomach drops a little at that, and not in a sexy way. “Oh,” he says, struggling to keep the disappointment out of his voice. But of course it wouldn’t be anything past sex - Steve is young, attractive, a star member of the university’s basketball team. He could get anyone he wants to be in a relationship with him, of course he wouldn’t want Eddie. And as pathetic as it makes him, and as much as it hurts… he knows he’s going to let Steve have this. He’s going to give him what he wants, and when he’s through with him, Eddie will allow himself to be tossed aside like trash, even though he’s already halfway in love with the guy.

But it’s that love, that endless well of adoration and desire, that makes Eddie say, “okay.”

Even though it hurts.

“Yeah?” Steve mumbles against his jaw.

Even though it fucking stings.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers back.

He lets that be the end of their exchanging of words, reaching a hand up into Steve’s hair to gently tilt his head, guiding their lips together in a deep, wet kiss. Steve makes a soft noise into the touch, and Eddie’s other hand falls down to rest on his hip, squeezing gently. His mouth moves softly against Steve’s at first, craving the tenderness of a kiss that he knows is living on borrowed time.

“Fuck,” Steve whispers against his mouth, pulling back just a little. “Do you think we could- would you-“ He stumbles over his words, making a frustrated noise before rutting his hips down into Eddie’s, making him groan loudly.

“Steve,” Eddie says through gritted teeth. “Fuck. Don’t- you shouldn’t do that.”

Steve whines, looking down at him with wide, pitiful eyes. “Why not?” He asks. He’s definitely pouting.

Eddie drops his head back against the couch, overwhelmed with the feeling of Steve in his lap and all his blood rushing south. “God. I don’t know,” Eddie whines back, clutching at Steve’s hips desperately. He scrambles to think of something, anything, to postpone this, even for a few minutes. “Our food,” he finally says, blinking up at Steve.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Our food?” He asks.

“It’ll… get cold,” Eddie finishes lamely.

Steve snorts, and his lips work into a grin. “Fuck the food, you’ve got a microwave.”

He dives back in for a kiss again, and really, Eddie can’t argue with that logic. His hands map a path from Steve’s hips to the back pockets of his jeans, and he’s not shy about sticking his hands in there to squeeze a good handful. “Fuck, babe,” he groans, Steve nipping at his lips. “Such a nice ass,” he mumbles, tilting his head to catch Steve’s lips again.

Steve pulls back, making Eddie whine loudly. He’d be embarrassed if he had any blood left in his brain to encourage any sort of thought process. Steve grins above him. “You should see it without the jeans. I’ve been told it’s even better that way.” He’s so fucking smug about it that Eddie has to pull his stupid face in for another bruising kiss, more than a little jealous at the mere suggestion that anyone else is seeing Steve’s ass enough to have an opinion.

And that’s stupid, not to mention possessive, of Eddie to even think that, but here they are. He squeezes Steve’s ass again before pulling his hands out of his pockets, bringing his hands around to undo his button and zipper. “Are you sure?” Eddie asks, pausing there, giving Steve every chance to back out. “You can always change your mind, Stevie.”

Eddie isn’t sure what he’s expecting Steve to say to that, but it definitely isn’t a huffy, “I know what I want, Eddie.”

“Okay,” Eddie says softly, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Tell me, then. What do you want?”

At that, Steve’s cheeks go a little red, though Eddie can’t for the life of him fathom why. It’s not like Steve has been shy up until this point. “I…” Steve trails off, but begins moving his hips in short little bursts of movement. “I want you to touch me.”

Eddie grins, and decides that if this is the only time he gets to have this, he can be a little mean. “Touch you where, baby?”

Steve whines, high in his throat. “Eddie,” he says softly. “Don’t be mean.”

And Eddie can’t help but kiss him for that. “Sorry,” he lies against his mouth. “Should we maybe go to my room? Or do you wanna do this on the couch?”

Steve freezes in his lap, which makes Eddie pull away instantly, looking up into his face for any sign of regret. “Um…” Steve starts, avoiding Eddie’s eyes.

“Honey, what is it?” Eddie asks as he rubs a soothing hand up and down Steve’s thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I’m not ready to fuck for real,” Steve says suddenly, the words bursting out of him in a rush of panic.

Eddie gives him a reassuring smile. “Okay,” he says immediately, bringing a hand up to pet Steve’s hair back. “That’s perfectly fine, baby. Thank you for telling me.”

Steve wiggles in his lap, twin hisses leaving their mouths at the sensation. “I still want to… do something, though.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. He pauses, thinking for a minute, before he smiles at Steve. “You ever jerked off with another guy before, Stevie?”

~~~

Predictably, Steve hasn’t done that, so that’s how they find themselves ten minutes later, both of their jeans and underwear pulled down to their thighs as Eddie strokes them off together with one hand. It’s incredibly hot, his gaze torn between watching the way his cock almost dwarfs Steve’s in his grip, and admiring the way Steve stares down at their dicks, his mouth wide open in shock.

“Does it feel pretty good, baby?” Eddie asks, smirking.

Steve nods dumbly, not a single word escaping his mouth. He’s blinking sort of rapidly, and Eddie wonders if his contacts are drying out. Normally, he’d stop to ask, but they’re both too damn close to worry about something like that right now.

Eddie tightens his grip a little, their dicks slippery enough with precome and spit that they slide together, making a disgusting, perfect sound. Eddie groans, flicking his wrist as he brings the both of them closer to the edge, his mind still not entirely wrapped around the fact that this is happening. They’re having sex. Literal, cocks touching, sharing breath and spit, sweaty sex.

And Eddie loves it.

He doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to give it up now that he’s had it, but he knows he’ll do whatever Steve wants, always. If he tells him ten minutes from now that he never wants to see Eddie again, Eddie would probably pack his bags. If Steve proposed, Eddie would say yes in a heartbeat.

Basically, there’s nothing Eddie wouldn’t do for him at this point.

“Close, close, close,” Steve chants, dropping his head back, presenting his neck to Eddie as he loses himself in the pleasure.

Eddie takes that as an opportunity to tilt forward, kissing and biting at the exposed column of Steve’s neck like his life depends on it. “Gonna come?” He mouths against Steve’s Adam’s apple.

“Yes, yes, Eddie, fuck, please,” Steve whines, his hips undulating as he tries to fuck himself against Eddie’s cock and the palm of his hand.

“Hm, if you’re good, I’ll let you come,” Eddie teases, slowing his stroking. He kisses his way up Steve’s throat, nibbling a little at his ear. “Are you gonna be good?”

“Yes, ‘m good, I’ll be s’good,” Steve pants. “Please!”

Eddie rewards him with picking up the pace and sucking a little mark under his ear, which makes him shudder. “Mm, so good using your manners, baby,” Eddie says, his voice breathy as he tries to stave off his own climax long enough for Steve to get his. “Come for me, babe. Make a mess.”

Apparently, that’s all it takes, and Steve is shooting off against their chests, the head of his dick nestled against the edge of Eddie’s. Something about it, the look on his face, the pulsing of Steve’s dick against his, or maybe the feeling of Steve’s come dripping down his cock, makes Eddie reach his. He comes so hard he almost thinks he’s going to black out, and he knows that’s all Steve.

“Fuck,” Steve whimpers, collapsing forward against Eddie’s chest, his head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. “That was so fucking hot,” he says with a light sigh, his body totally relaxed now.

Eddie laughs, his bones feeling like jello as he slumps against the couch, running his clean hand through Steve’s hair. “Did you like it?” He asks, a little nervous for the answer, despite the physical reaction he’d gotten out of Steve.

Steve snorts. “Did I like it?” He mocks, his eyes crinkling when he smiles at Eddie. “Of course I did. That was possibly the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And that makes Eddie nearly preen with pride. “Good,” he says. He’s still holding his right hand at an awkward angle, trying not to touch Steve with the same hand he used to jerk them both off. He glances down at Steve, who appears to be perfectly content staying there, with no sign that he intends to move anytime soon. “Hey, babe,” Eddie murmurs softly.

Steve makes a humming noise. “Yeah?”

Eddie kisses the top of his head. “How about we go get cleaned up? Would that be okay?”

“But I’m so comfy,” Steve protests weakly. He snuggles further into Eddie then, as if he’s proving his point. Instead, all this does is squish their soft cocks together and smears the come on their shirts.

“I know, but we’re kind of disgusting right now. And you can’t go home with your shirt looking like that,” Eddie explains.

Steve leans back a little, chewing his lip as he studies Eddie, a nervous tic. “Can I sleep here?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Uh… here as in… like on my couch?”

Steve’s face flickers with disappointment, but he shrugs. “Er, yeah, if that’s what you, um… yeah, that’s okay.” He stutters through what sounds like a couple different half-sentences, and Eddie can’t help but smile at him.

“Okay. Yeah, you can stay,” he says. He’d love it if Steve would just sleep in his bed, but he’s not sure that he would be comfortable with that idea. He puts the thought out of his mind, patting Steve’s back. “Okay, let’s go get cleaned, bud. And then I’ll make up the couch for you, and we can actually eat our dinner.”

Steve sighs quietly, and Eddie thinks for a terrible moment that he might change his mind, but then he says, “okay,” and shoves himself up to his feet. He looks down at his shirt, stained with both of their releases, and grimaces. “Uh, have you got a shirt I can borrow?” Steve asks.

Eddie has a very brief vision of Steve, wandering around wearing his clothes. Not even in a sexy way; no, he’s imagining Steve going to class, Eddie’s favorite Metallica tee hugging his broad shoulders. He wonders if everyone in the class would realize it wasn’t Steve’s shirt.

“Yeah,” he croaks out when he realizes Steve is staring at him, waiting. “Yeah, um. We can- there’s clothes in my room,” he says, feeling dumb for even saying that. Obviously that’s where his clothes are. God, he’s stupid.

Steve gives him a little smirk. “Lead the way,” he says easily, stepping back and waving his hand with a flourish.

Eddie shoves himself off the sofa, tucking himself back into his underwear but leaving his jeans unbuttoned. It feels like a lot to make the trip to his room like this, fucked out and filthy, with Steve Harrington trailing behind him, humming fucking - “Steve, is that ABBA?” Eddie asks, tilting his head back enough to look at him, allowing every bit of judgment to seep into his expression.

“Uh,” Steve stalls, and Eddie feels him step on his heel, probably on purpose. “Maybe.”

Eddie shakes his head as he tugs off his shirt, chucking it at the laundry basket in the corner of his bedroom as he steps inside. “Can’t believe you’re singing ABBA in this household. That’s basically sacrilege, you know.” He pilfers through his drawer of all his best band t-shirts, plucking out his very favorite and tossing it to Steve. “Don’t lose this, it’s my favorite,” he warns loudly without looking at him, going back to find himself something.

“Oh, I don’t- you don’t have to give me your favorite shirt, Eddie,” Steve says, despite the fact that he’s putting it on when Eddie turns around. “I’d wear whatever, really.”

And damn, Eddie was right. It really is a sight to see, Steve stood there in his t-shirt, looking at Eddie with those big beautiful eyes. If Eddie wasn’t so spent, his cock would probably be twitching in his pants.

“It’s fine,” he says, shucking off his jeans and grabbing a pair of sweatpants for each of them. “I wanted to see King Steve in a peasant’s clothing, at least once,” he jokes. He’s not sure Steve even remembers that, the whole “King Steve” joke from their high school days, but he doesn’t see the harm in it.

That is, until he catches a look at Steve’s devastated face.

“Stevie?” he asks softly, stepping closer to him. “Did I- what did I say?”

Steve shakes his head, dragging in a deep, shuddering breath. “N-nothing. Just… don’t call me that.” His voice is low, but serious, even as he adds a softer, “please.”

Eddie reaches out, relieved when Steve doesn’t flinch away from the contact. He grips his elbow, rubbing his thumb along the inside crease, and waits for Steve to meet his gaze. “Okay,” he says quietly, watching Steve as he watches his mouth. “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t think about it.”

Steve nods, and Eddie can’t help but coo when he steps closer for a hug. “Sorry,” Steve mumbles against his shoulder. “Hate bein’ sensitive about shit like that, but-”

“Hey, no,” Eddie says, pulling away just enough to get a good look at his face. “I want you to tell me when I cross a line, okay? Because sometimes I don’t realize it. Always tell me, alright?” He kisses Steve’s hair, subtle enough that hopefully he doesn’t even notice it.

“Okay,” Steve says quietly before tugging out of his embrace. It’s sooner than what Eddie prefers, and he aches to have him back in his arms the moment Steve is missing from them. He realizes he’s still just standing there in nothing but his ruined t-shirt and boxers, and the distinct embarrassment of being half-naked while Steve is fully dressed is enough to kick him into gear.

“Here,” Eddie says, holding out the extra pair of sweatpants after he’s tugged his own up his legs. “Unless you want to just sleep in your underwear,” he says, trying not to meet Steve’s eyes.

“These are fine, thanks,” Steve replies, and Eddie forces himself to look away when Steve begins tugging his jeans off.

A few minutes later, they’re both dressed in far more comfortable attire, and Eddie is starving. He leads the way back down the hall to the living room, scooping up their boxes of food and taking it straight to the kitchen to be reheated.

“We’ll have to start the movie over,” Steve says from behind him. When Eddie glances over his shoulder, he finds Steve standing there with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

Eddie grins as he sets the timer on the microwave. “You’re a man after my own heart, Stevie. I figured you’d try to pull the wool over my eyes and pretend you’d been paying attention the whole time.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but it’s playful. “Hard to pay attention when I’ve got you coming all over my cock, hotshot,” he says, smirking.

Eddie gulps, almost choking on his own spit as he turns to stare at the food rotating in the microwave. He’s not sure how to come back from that one, his brain moving too slowly in the wake of a good orgasm to even come up with a smooth retort. “Well,” Eddie says after an awkward moment of silence. “This time we have to pay attention to the movie. No distractions.”

The microwave beeps, and he carefully takes out the boxes, turning to find the smirk on Steve’s face hasn’t lessened. “No distractions. Scout’s honor.”

~~~

Scout’s honor, my ass, Eddie thinks nearly an hour later.

They’ve long since finished their food, and although Steve had managed to follow along the first part of the movie with minimal questions, Eddie can tell he’s losing patience, wiggling in his seat and casting glances at Eddie repeatedly. Eddie was serious though, he doesn’t stand for menial interruptions during Lord of the Rings time, and won’t pause it for anything less than an emergency.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers after another ten or so minutes of fidgeting.

Of course, hearing his soft voice, all of Eddie’s concerns fly straight out the window. He turns to him with a little smile, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Steve picks at a loose string at the seam of his borrowed sweatpants. “Can you pause it for just a second? I need to brush my teeth and stuff, in case I fall asleep.”

Eddie gives him a playful glare. “You can’t fall asleep during the movie, it’s against the rules!”

Steve rolls his eyes, but drops his head back and whines, playing along perfectly. “But I’m so sleepy,” he argues, batting those pretty little eyes at Eddie.

And of course Eddie can’t argue with that. “Okay, fine. I’ve probably got a spare toothbrush somewhere.” He starts to shove himself off the sofa, but Steve’s voice stops him.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ve got one.”

Eddie pauses, turning slowly to look at Steve. He’s trying so, so hard not to grin. “You just happened to bring one with you?” He drawls, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Steve’s cheekbones flush with color, and Eddie can’t help but poke at them playfully. “Yes, I did,” Steve says petulantly, slapping Eddie’s pestering hands away.

“But you didn’t know you were staying the night,” Eddie says, feigning confusion.

Steve groans, finally breaking. He covers his face, but Eddie doesn’t let that last long, reaching forward and uncovering those beautiful hazel eyes immediately. “I didn’t, but I… I knew I was going to ask.”

Eddie coos at that, can’t help it really. “Aww, Stevie. How long had you been planning that?”

Apparently that’s a line he’s hesitant to cross, because Steve just looks away, back to plucking at the errant strings hanging off his borrowed pants. He shrugs, mumbling something that Eddie doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that, honey?” Eddie asks, reaching out and tugging at the loose thread Steve just released.

Steve sighs, a loud, almost put-upon sort of thing. “I said… I’ve had the toothbrush in my bag for like a week.” His face is decidedly pink now, and Eddie is so damn fond.

He knows he should laugh this off and move on, or try to at least, but one look at Steve’s embarrassed but hopeful face makes him bold. “All you had to do was ask, baby,” he says softly, patting Steve’s knee.

Steve fidgets again, turning so that his knees are pressed to Eddie’s thigh. “But last time, you acted like…” he trails off, somehow looking even more embarrassed than he did before. “Well, anyway,” he says, waving his hand dismissively.

Eddie doesn’t let it go that easily. “Like what?” He asks quietly, saving space for disappointment or regret, but understanding that this is about Steve’s feelings, not his own.

It takes a few long, awkwardly silent moments for Steve to actually make eye contact and respond. When he does finally look at him, Eddie tries to give him a reassuring smile. “It’s stupid,” Steve says, his gaze flickering between his hands and Eddie’s eyes.

“I seriously doubt that,” Eddie says, trying to be reassuring without being patronizing. “And even if it is, I still want to hear it.”

Steve studies his hands very carefully, picking at a hangnail with the utmost precision. He doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes when he finally speaks. “I just feel like… like you maybe don’t want me around, sometimes.”

Eddie frowns, ducking his head so that he can say his next words with the full certainty that Steve can actually hear them. “Stevie, no,” he says firmly. He reaches for Steve’s hands, gently clasping each one in an attempt to get rid of Steve’s distraction. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like that.” He hesitates then, uncertain if he should say anything more vulnerable than that. And of course, what he should do very rarely matches up with what he’s going to do, and he finds himself opening his big stupid mouth again. “Really, Steve. I… If anything, I want you around more than I probably should.”

Steve sniffles, blinking those sweet hazel eyes up at Eddie with nothing short of doubt lurking in them. “Really?” he asks.

Eddie can’t help himself, leaning in and pressing a little kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Always. I want you around always.”

He’s not sure what to expect from the confession, but what he gets is Steve sniffling louder, his hand coming up to clutch at the back of Eddie’s neck. For a moment, Eddie panics, thinking Steve is about to pull him into a kiss, a kiss that he knows he won’t be able to put a stop to even if he tries, but instead, he just presses their foreheads together, taking a deep, settling breath. “Okay,” Steve murmurs.

It takes him a moment to collect himself, and even when he does pull away, he doesn’t remove his hand immediately. “You okay now?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah. I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I got so… I get sort of sappy after sex sometimes.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Eddie says immediately, shaking his head. “Not for that, and not to me. This is a safe space, remember? You can say anything to me, always.”

A complicated look passes over Steve’s face then, and Eddie has never felt so scrutinized. He can almost imagine Steve walking through the caverns of his brain, inspecting every nook and cranny as he decides what’s worth keeping and what must be discarded. Eddie shivers, unsettled by the intensity of Steve’s expression, and that seems to be what snaps him out of whatever trance he’s in.

“I need to go brush my teeth,” Steve finally says, effectively breaking the tension.

Eddie feels a twin sense of relief and disappointment at that. It had almost felt like… for a moment there, he thought Steve was going to say something else. But surely if he had wanted to say something, he would have. Right?

“Okay,” Eddie replies, scooting away from him on the couch to give him space to go and do what he needs to do. He has a wild, purely self-indulgent thought as Steve is going to grab his bag, and common sense apparently isn’t enough to stop him from saying it. “Hey, if you want to, you can just leave your toothbrush here. That way you’ll have it for next time,” he says, glancing over at Steve and studying him carefully to see his reaction.

Luckily, Steve’s turned mostly towards Eddie, so he doesn’t have to repeat himself. Steve glances up at him, and his lips quirk into a shy smile. “Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll put it with yours?” he asks.

Eddie nods, feeling a little giddy himself at the prospect. Which is completely ridiculous - something as stupid and simple as their toothbrushes being placed in the same cup is hardly worth freaking out over. And yet… “Perfect,” Eddie says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks.

Steve shuffles off to the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts. He’s not gone for very long, and Eddie has barely made it through one panic-driven cycle of “god, this is wrong, he’s my student, and he was uncomfortable with this at first - wait, what changed?” when Steve returns. He yawns widely as he walks in the room, and Eddie’s nose crinkles at the audible sound of his jaw popping.

“Ew,” he teases. “You’re like a snake, unhinging its jaw to eat a baby.”

Steve gives him a very unimpressed look as he settles back into his place on the couch. “Snakes do not eat babies,” he says with an air of such certainty that Eddie almost doesn’t want to tease him about it.

“Oh but that’s just what they want you to think!” Eddie says, trying to hide his massive grin.

“Sure,” Steve says, rolling his head to the side to give Eddie this little half-amused look. He yawns again, tilting to the side to rest his head on the arm of the sofa, and Eddie realizes how inconsiderate he’s being.

“Shit, I forgot, you’re like, actually tired, aren’t you?” he asks, moving to get up.

Steve’s eyes widen at that, and he tries to disagree, but Eddie can tell from his weak eyes and his posture that he’s exhausted. “No, really, we can finish the movie!” Steve tries, gesturing to the television with one hand.

Eddie shakes his head, standing up and clearing the coffee table of their mess. “Nah, we can finish it another time, bub. You need some sleep.” He takes the trash to the kitchen, washes his hands, and makes his way back to the living room, where Steve is still half-laying down on the couch. “C’mon, gotta take your contacts out,” he reminds him.

Steve grimaces at that, but sits up. “Will you help me? It still kind of grosses me out to do it on my own.”

“Of course,” Eddie replies. “Are your glasses in your bag?”

“Yeah, should be in the case at the top. Contact case is in there, too.”

Eddie dutifully digs it out of the bag, coming to settle on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of Steve once he’s got it. “Alright, hold still,” he murmurs softly before reaching out. He’s gotten the hang of this in the several times Steve has asked for his help, and he’s definitely better at removing the contacts than he is at putting them in for him, so he’s glad that Steve’s mostly got that part down pat. Now that his brain is on that wave length, a nagging thought from earlier returns to his mind. “So… when you go to the ear doctor…” he starts slowly, then pauses when Steve tenses.

“Yeah?” Steve asks when Eddie is quiet for a beat too long.

“If you don’t want to talk about this, we don’t have to,” Eddie says softly.

Steve blinks at him, squinting without the assistance of his contacts, and Eddie can’t help but find it incredibly adorable. “It’s fine,” Steve says with a shrug. “No point in beating around the bush. Like… It’s happening.”

Eddie nods. “Right.” He clears his throat and hands Steve his glasses. “But when it does… Are you prepared for them to tell you that you might need something for that? Like…” He doesn’t want to come right out and say it, a little weary of scaring Steve, or just hurting his feelings.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to have that concern for long, as Steve fills in the blanks for him. “Like a hearing aid?” he guesses.

Letting out the breath he’d definitely been holding, Eddie says, “yeah. Like that. I know it’s just partial hearing loss… Or, well, I think that’s what it is, but… if they say that’s the best option, are you comfortable with that?”

Steve is quiet for a long time. If he wasn’t sitting up, his gaze flickering around the room as he thinks, Eddie would think that he’d fallen asleep. He looks sort of lost, and Eddie can’t even begin to imagine what sort of thoughts are racing through his mind. Eventually, his shoulders slump in what Eddie can only describe as resignation, and he sighs. “I… I guess I’ll have to be,” he says quietly.

Eddie is quick to do what he does best, jumping in to reassure him. “Hey, no. If you don’t want to, I’ll press them for another solution. But… if it’s that or surgery…” he gives Steve a sympathetic look.

Steve knocks his ankles against Eddie’s, staring down at their feet. “I don’t want people looking at me,” he whispers.

Eddie almost responds with a joke, but he knows better now. He knows how sensitive Steve is about these things (rightfully so) and so he knows that would just make it worse. “Why do you think they would be looking at you?” Eddie says, trying to choose his words very carefully. “I’m pretty certain they make relatively discreet aids, so people probably wouldn’t even notice.”

“Maybe,” Steve says noncommittally with a shrug. “But… I don’t want people to look at me… and all they see is the glasses and a hearing aid. Especially…” he rolls his eyes, mostly at himself, and gives Eddie a sardonic smile. “This is stupid, but like… I really don’t want people coming to our basketball games and saying, like… ‘Oh, there goes that deaf kid, who can’t see the ball coming at his face! And did you know he can’t fucking read?’ Like…” he shakes his head. “I don’t want that to be my legacy.”

And Eddie doesn’t really get it, not really. He’s not a member of any sport or club, and even being in a band, he doesn’t think he’s ever particularly given a shit what people thought of him, even though he is a little different, but he supposes that’s just the difference in their personalities. He tries to level with him, and see it through his eyes. “Yeah…” Eddie says slowly. “But baby,” he leans in, putting his hands on Steve’s knees and squeezing. “That’s not going to be your legacy. People are going to remember you because you were an amazing player, yeah, but you know what I’ll remember about you?”

Steve almost seems shy when he asks, “what?”

Eddie smiles at him, reaching up and tucking his hair over his ear. “I’ll remember that you were kind. And hardworking.” He begins counting things off using Steve’s fingers. “Honest, caring, funny, smart.”

Steve’s eyes are wet. “Eddie,” he says softly, like he’s denying it.

Eddie shakes his head, bringing his hand up to his mouth to kiss his palm. “I’m going to remember that you were brave,” he says gently, holding Steve’s gaze. “That you came to me and Murray for extra help, even though you were embarrassed. That you came back to me, even when I had fucked up and said everything wrong, because you chose to be brave enough to let someone help you.” He brushes his lips across Steve’s knuckles. “I’m not going to remember you for your glasses, or for having something in your ear, if that’s what they decide to do. I’m going to remember you, Steve.”

He means it to be reassuring, a pep talk of sorts, but Steve is fully crying by the end of it.

Great. Scratch “motivational speaker” off any potential future career plans.

At first he can’t tell if they’re sad tears or not, but then Steve is lurching forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck and muffling his tears against his shoulder. It takes him a few minutes of sniffling to get it under control, but Eddie gives him that time, holding him in a loose embrace and stroking his back gently. “Sorry,” Steve mumbles, not so subtly wiping his nose against Eddie’s shirt. “That was just - really fucking sweet, Eddie. I…” He pulls out of his grip for just a moment, giving him a shaky smile. “Thank you. I really needed that.”

Eddie kisses his cheek. “No problem. I’m always here when you need a pep talk. And maybe next time I won’t make you cry,” he jokes softly, thumbing at a stray tear on Steve’s cheek.

Steve just laughs, naturally good-natured about that. “Yeah, we’ll see,” he teases.

Eddie gives him another warm smile before sighing and standing up. “Let me go get you a couple of blankets, yeah?”

Something like disappointment flashes across Steve’s face for a second, but then he’s nodding, watching Eddie disappear down the hall. When he returns with a stack of blankets and a pillow, Steve offers a little half-smile. “Thanks,” he says, watching Eddie as he spreads a sheet across the couch, fluffing a pillow up at one end.

“You want me to tuck you in, baby?” Eddie asks, mostly joking.

Steve gives him that sweet smile, his eyelashes batting softly against his cheekbones as he nods. “Yeah, that would be nice, actually.”

It’s decidedly innocent, and means nothing more than Steve just being silly and seeking some form of comfort, but for some reason, Eddie’s face heats up. “Okay,” he says after an awkward pause. “Um… Lay down?”

Steve does just that, scooting around until he’s resting his head against the pillow, his glasses going a bit wonky on his face. “Can you-” he starts, turning his head a bit.

Eddie nods, reaching out and sliding the frames off Steve’s nose and setting them on the coffee table. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. He’s looking up at Eddie with those big doe eyes, and Eddie has to force himself to look away.

He drapes the fuzzy blanket over Steve first, followed by a quilt his grandmother had made before he was ever born. It’s old and is made up entirely of mis-matched patches of plaid and denim, but it’s probably the most sentimental item he owns. “Warm enough?”

Steve nods. “Mhm.” He looks awful cozy in his spot, and Eddie allows himself to be selfish one more time for the night as he leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Alright. Goodnight, bub. If you need anything, I’m just down the hall,” Eddie says, giving Steve one last look-over to make sure he’s as snug as he can be. He waits for Steve’s quiet hum of agreement, and then he’s retreating to his bedroom, giving Steve one last look over his shoulder before he disappears from his view for the night.

Behind the almost-closed door, Eddie sighs. God, he wishes he’d just have the guts to ask Steve to sleep in here, with him. Not in a sexual way or anything - no, Eddie just wanted to know what it would be like to cuddle with him for a night, to wake up wrapped in each other’s arms. He huffs and puffs to himself as he crawls into his lonely, empty bed, glaring up at the ceiling as soon as his head hits the pillow. It’s not fair, really. Steve being so close, yet so far away. Perfectly within reach, but also very much inaccessible.

He sighs again, louder this time, as if anyone will hear his passive-aggressive moping.

It occurs to him, vaguely, that he could just go right back down the hall and ask Steve if he’d like to sleep in a real bed rather than the couch. And honestly, even if he says no, what does Eddie have to lose? It’s not like Steve’s going to leave in the middle of the night. Then again, Eddie would hate to even make him uncomfortable enough to even think about that… He goes back and forth several times before ultimately deciding - fuck it. Nothing to lose, might as well give it a shot.

He crosses the space between his bed and the door quickly and quietly, a singular thought in his mind as he reaches for the doorknob.

Eddie has just barely pulled the door open when he bumps into something - or rather, someone.

“Oh, shit, I-” he starts to apologize immediately, then pauses when he registers that of course it’s Steve standing in front of his door. His face is drawn comically around an expression of panic, and Eddie tilts his head at him curiously. “Oh. What were you…” he trails off. It would be a little hypocritical of him to start asking questions about motives now, considering what he was just on his way to do himself.

“Um,” Steve says, his eyes wide. Eddie probably nearly gave him a heart attack, swinging the door open like that before the poor guy could even get the chance to knock. “I got… scared?” he tries, the words coming out more like a question than any real statement of fact.

Eddie can’t help his instinct to tease. Crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, he says, “oh, did you?”

Steve blushes. “Um… yeah. It’s like… really dark in there, and… and your fridge makes weird noises, and…”

“Hm,” Eddie says, sucking at his teeth like he’s considering the issue. “Well, that’s no good. I can’t possibly leave you out there all alone to fend for yourself against the… fridge noises.” He can’t help but grin as he says it, and can’t bother regretting it when Steve just blushes harder.

He half-expects Steve to give it up then, out of embarrassment if nothing else, but if there’s one thing about him, it’s that he’ll always see something through. Instead, he just nods, casting a weary glance back down the hall. In doing that, Eddie finally notices that Steve’s got the quilt wrapped around his shoulders. Cute.

“Yeah, it would be really… really irresponsible for you to leave me out there all alone. I think I’d be way safer if I…” he seems to lose confidence then, but the longing glance he sends to Eddie’s bed over his shoulder makes his intentions crystal clear.

“I think you’ll just have to sleep in here with me tonight,” Eddie says, feigning disappointment. “Well, come on, then. I hear the fridge likes to claim its victims this time of night,” he says with a grin, gesturing for Steve to come into his bedroom.

Steve makes it a few steps towards his bed before he turns around, giving Eddie an almost desperate look. “You don’t mind me being in here, do you? Because, like, I can sleep by myself! I just-”

Eddie reaches for him, pulling him in via a tug on the quilt. “Honey. I promise I don’t mind. Actually…” He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “That’s why I was already at my door. I was actually about to come in there and ask if you wanted to sleep in here with me. I felt so guilty leaving you in there with just some blankets and a pillow.”

Steve’s face, which had brightened a little at the confession, falls again by the time Eddie finishes speaking. “Oh,” he says, glancing down. “Well, I mean, I don’t mind. I can sleep on the couch, I really don’t have to-”

“Stevie,” Eddie says, his voice full of exasperation. “Baby, I want you to sleep in here with me. I…” he hesitates, feeling that familiar uncertainty that comes with the prospect of being vulnerable to Steve in some way. “I think it would be nice, to not be alone, and… and it would be even better if it was you I was being not-alone with.”

“Oh,” Steve repeats, his voice even softer now. “Okay, then. Should we, um…” He glances at the bed, but his gaze doesn’t linger. Instead it darts all over the room, taking everything in as if he believes it’ll be the last time he sees it. Eddie hopes, selfishly, that it’s not.

“Let’s go to bed,” Eddie says, nodding. He uses his grip on Steve’s quilt-cape to guide him to the bed, walking backwards himself until the back of his knees hit the mattress. He releases Steve just long enough to crawl up onto the bed, patting the empty space beside him as he wiggles under the covers. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he says, grinning at Steve. “Well, much.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but crawls onto the bed, keeping the quilt wrapped around his shoulders like he’s some kind of little caterpillar. Eddie helps him under the actual sheets and comforter, but Steve seems to have no intentions of letting go of the quilt anytime soon.

Once they’re settled, both of them on their sides facing each other, Eddie yawns. His jaw pops, and they share a grin at the sound. “Like a snake,” Steve murmurs.

It’s silly, but Eddie’s heart swells at the reference to his joke from earlier. “Like a snake,” he echoes.

Steve’s eyes are drooping with exhaustion, and Eddie knows it’s just a matter of time before he loses him to the clutches of sleep. His throat sticks with words he shouldn’t even feel the urge to say, and he clears his throat a few times in an attempt to speak.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve whispers, beating him to the punch.

Eddie nods, feeling ridiculous at the swell of emotion that rises in his throat. Oh, god. He’s really got it bad for him, there’s no way around it.

“Goodnight, Stevie. Sweet dreams.”

Eddie doesn’t sleep a wink.

[eddiedeadie]

Excerpt from a Fic I'll probably never write #1

"You got some nerve walking around here looking like that, man."

"I'm sorry what?"

Was Eddie hitting on him?

"You look like you stepped straight out of a fucking GQ spread. It's like you're fuckin' askin' to get robbed."

Oh. Right. Rich kid, southside. Steve understood.

"So? I can just replace whatever they take."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie's grinning sharply now. Steve shivers down to his bones.

"Yeah."

Eddie's then stepping up into his space, very close, and reaching out to pick up steve's hand. He starts delicately working the fancy gold watch off his wrist.

"Are you….are you fucking robbing me, right now?"

"Sure am, slick. What did you say a second ago? You'll just replace it, right?" He's still working the watch open.

"I've never been robbed before."

"Aw, is it your first time, sweetheart?" He looks up at Steve, grinning devilishly. "I promise I'll be gentle."

He slips the watch off and places it in his own pocket.

"There. Consider yourself robbed."

There's a honk from outside.

"Let's roll, big boy." Eddie leads them out and to the car.

[builder051]

Adverse Effects (ch.2 if you're a parking meter, what the fuck are "business hours?")

A Chasing Ghosts story

Previously, in ch1:

After a moment of frantic scanning, James’s eyes land on the party in question, and more specifically, on Tasha. Her hair piled up on top of her head, then shot through with blinding light–she may as well be a beacon of molten copper. “Yeah,” James confirms. "I see her." He doesn’t know how he could miss her. But then the Subaru turns off its lights and cuts its engine, and everything outside Steve’s car goes dark again.

__________________________

Acquainted now with their surroundings, James sees Tasha and a number of others enter the club.

"Do you think Tasha and Maria are with that big guy?" James wonders aloud. He'd warned her about athletes. They don't deal, and they won't make deals, unless they're from a pro organization or the Olympic team. Anything else becomes a scandal. Unless you're Tasha, with the looks and the charm and lucky pennies. And the ability to recount the drunken details, heavy on code words and time lapses, to her... what exactly? Trusted adult? A role James is happy to keep filling to keep his sister safe. Hence the mission.

"I don't think so," Steve answers.

"Oh." James forces his mind back to the current conversation. "Do you know him?"

"Uh," Steve hesitates. He puts on his blinker for a moment as he peers down an intersecting alley and squints, looking, James supposes, for parking. "Jim might know his brother, I think?

James reaches across and turns off Steve's flasher. "You'll get your tires slashed if you go down that way."

"Why?" Steve merges back onto the main road.

"I just..." It's that section of neighborhood, the shitty part, built around the time the University District was established. Unlike the suburbs directly off campus, the houses here weren't renovated. Weren't large enough to rent out as flatshares. Owning one was probably a relief, a place to shelter the family. Definitely not someone's pride and joy. With no incentive to clean up, rusty fences separated the houses. People had dogs. Broken down cars. Kids who learned to work and had no concept of play. They'd figure out how to put screaming eagle pipes on an old, rattling moped. And when it was nighttime and they couldn't disturb the neighbors on their mothers' sharp orders, of course they'd find a loophole. Harass somebody else with a pen knife or some spray paint. Use the darkness as an advantage, and don't get caught. Then if the blame comes your way, it's easy enough to deflect. What? You think I did that? Naw, that was Roger. You should probably call his mom.

Luckily, James was a head taller and a shade quieter than that group of foster brothers when they were jammed into a similar establishment upstate. The younger ones took up a lot of attention, racing up and down the street, making a good diversion while James committed minor theft. Yes, he had to use a wrench to remove the tire from the bicycle before running like his life depended on it. Even though the bike in the neighbors' yard had been chained to the fence for something like half a year, and he'd only stolen it to fix his own flat, James remembers feeling a sense of something else behind the anxiety. Something thrilling. When James yanked the rusty nail out of his flat and started loosening the bolts to change his tire, he hoped he wouldn't get tetanus. Or maybe hoped he would. The straight line of healthy obedience was torture compared to what he'd just uncovered. Who knew stealing some stupid bike tire would unveil a whole world of...stuff. Independence. Opportunities. Danger. Things to tell Tasha. Things to warn Tasha.

When the streetlights came on and James chained up his bike out back, he was excited to meet Tasha at the door. She wasn't letting him in, though. They were just passing like ghosts in the wind.

James took in Tasha's short white dress and white Converse sneakers, which looked as if they'd been wiped down with bleach. "Where are you going?"

Tasha shrugged. Gestured vaguely up the street.

"You shouldn't steal shit at night," James warned, whispering between his teeth. "Everybody's dog is going to wake up."

"Why would I steal anything?" Tasha gave James an inquisitive look. "What're you hiding?"

James stood up straight and leaned against the door frame with one arm. He thought maybe it drew attention to the fact that he had the advantage in height, weight, and age. "I asked you first."

"Friend's house," Tasha said simply, though her expression fluctuated from neutral to worried and maybe fearful before taking on the exasperated pout that's clearly meant for James.

Without knowing if she has permission, or where exactly she intends to go, or what bloody fuck she can even have stashed in the miniature sparkly backpack dangling from one skinny elbow... James watches her go until she passes a bank of untrimmed bushes and is lost to the night.

"Is that street haunted?" Steve asks, unknowingly adding to the rising action of the horror movie beginning to unfold in James's head.

"Um." James clears his throat. Now. Come on. The block in his vision doesn't allow him to see far down the street, but he doesn't need to in order to make a judgement call. "If you call 12-year-olds with box cutters ghosts and goblins."

"Oh," Steve says, using the voice he puts on when he's trying not to be surprised by previously unknown differences in lifestyle. "Yeah, that wouldn't be good."

Traffic moves, and they pass the club where Tasha had entered with Maria and some bunch of unknowns. Street parking is packed with cars nose-to-tail, some more neatly than others, who have left a tire or two in the lane.

"I'm pretty sure there's more street parking on the side." James points one storefront ahead to the closed Italian restaurant, which makes up the corner of block."

"Yeah, I'll try that..." Steve glances over his shoulder, then out James's side mirror. "How do people even get here?"

"Maybe the hike around all the detours is sobering?" James puts out there.

"I don't know..."

Steve creeps up on the car in front and puts on his blinker. He's impatient, James knows.

"So... That one guy you saw in the line with Tash and Maria?" James pulls from the back of his mind. "You know him?"

"Well," Steve replies, "I don't know him, exactly, but Jim's sort of friends with his brother, so I, like, know who he is?"

"Ok." James will take it. "And he is...?"

"The-the guy?" It's finally Steve's turn to pause at the flashing red light, then take the turn around the side of the building. "Or the brother?"

James closes his eyes, but still sees, and for that matter, feels the red flash pulsating inside his corneas. "The--green shirt. That one."

"Oh. I don't know what his name is." Steve pauses after turning, taking in the entire empty parking lane.

James wishes he'd hurry up and pick one so he doesn't feel so assaulted by their randomly blinking time readers. Each flash from bright blue to dark grey may as well be another rock thrown at his head. A pebble. A boulder. Whichever size fate happens to pick up next.

"He's like, some kind of reserve linebacker?" Steve explains. "He's a senior and somehow thinks he's going to be a draft pick?" It's evident on his face that Steve's attempting to smooth over both his poor ability to parallel park and his lack of understanding the game of football.

Steve drives through the first couple of available spots before trying his best to see the muffler from inside the windshield. He wiggles the steering wheel to make the back tires move as well, then turns off the engine. "The brother works at the gym. You know, like at the desk? To swipe cards and stuff? And he's great. None of the treadmills squeak anymore. And it doesn't smell like WD-40. So much nicer to jog a mile or two without breathing in that motor oil stuff..."

James gets out of the car. He steps directly onto the curb, then uses the top of the door for stability before he's acquainted with being taller than the car. Balance. Perception. Fucking head injuries.

Steve jumps out, locks the car, and hustles to James's side. His arms are arranged at 90 degree bends, elbows at his waist and fists out in front as if they are, just now, going to take on one of those non-squeaky treadmills. "Ready?"

James might laugh. Or maybe cover his face with his palm and groan. He isn't going to endure a pep rally, no matter how gentle or authentic Steve makes it. An A for effort, but... James's head gives an especially sickening throb, and he doesn't want Steve to see him distorting his face as he scrapes backwashed coke off his tongue.

"You had to have that parking meter?" James asks, pointing at it and turning around once the wave of nausea has passed. The thing is bent, almost in half, with its head pointing diagonally skyward. The sidewalk has cracked at the meter's base, and the bright yellow 'error' message flashing on the screen reflects in even beats against the pavement.

"Well..." Steve shrugs. "The whole street is under that sign." He points. "'Business Hours Only.'"

"Business hours only..." James muses. "I'm pretty sure we're going to a business. During its operating hours."

"But--" Steve sputters. "Isn't that like 9 to 5 or something?"

"Only if you're a bank, a civilian contractor, or Dolly Parton," James says with a laugh. "Seriously, though. You're going to get towed."

Steve puffs up his chest. "Police don't patrol down here. You said so."

"Yeah, that's true." James is willing to go over it again. " They come when they're called."

"To put the bad guy in handcuffs and take him to the station so we can drive your sister home, yeah, I know..."

"No," James corrects. "The police come when they're called, and they clean up all the illegal activity in the area."

"But..." Steve's expression is stuck somewhere between bewildered and guilty. "I didn't break it. I didn't make damage to have free parking."

"Jesus fuck..." James blinks hard, then opens his eyes and pretends he can see all of Steve's face. "Ok. When you feed a meter, it counts it. Like the person in the lawn chair when you go vote? With the clicker?"

"Like, how many?"

"More like... proof you were there, and proof you didn't break the law."

"Break the law--?"

"Hold on," James takes a breath, hoping Steve will too. "Feed the meter, and your car is allowed to be there. Don't feed the meter, and the police are allowed to ticket you. Or boot you. Or tow you..."

"But you can't feed that meter," Steve points out, as if it isn't obvious. "It doesn't work. I couldn't feed it if I tried."

"No..." James changes his angle. He shades his eyes, though all that does is block out the pale moonlight, and scans the edge of roof. A black strip tops the outer wall of the Italian Restaurant. It gives the illusion of a cap atop the paintings of tomatoes and sliced loaves of bread, and giving way to a shadowy roof of pipes and air conditioning covers.

It takes James about three seconds to spot the camera. "Right there," he says. Then he grins and waves at it.

"Huh?" Steve looks at James as though he's lost his mind.

"Say 'hi' to the camera," James explains. "It's right there. See the bottle of olive oil? Straight up from the rim. It's black. See?"

Steve's eyes go wide. He waves awkwardly. "Is that, like, security?" he asks.

"It's a resource that could possibly be used if, say, a grey camry drove through three open metered spots to park purposefully by a broken meter." James shrugs. "If there was a question of whether the cop booting your car was acting appropriately. Or within the bounds of the law, at least."

James forces his face to stay still as he watches Steve's face turn red. Or maybe silvery green and gold, if he chooses to watch the aura instead of filling in the blanks with known reality.

"Um." Steve's voice comes out slow and unsure. Maybe a note higher than usual. "How, uh, long are we going to be inside?"

"No idea," James says. "I thought the plan was to watch and wing it."

"Do you think you could do a citizen's arrest while I pull the car around front?" Steve asks, suddenly bubbly with what can only be false hope. "Then we can take Tasha and run a lot faster."

James shrugs. A fast getaway could be nice. But James really doesn't feel like beating anyone up right now. Not tonight. He supposes he could do some bungled shouting about being a disabled veteran and sit on someone with his metal arm on full display.

But honestly, once safety was established, James was ready to let Tasha keep whatever goods she'd picked up. As long as she gave him a serving and agreed to wait to dose up until they got home so Steve could serve as a sitter.

Highs could do wonders on migraines. They'd mask the pain and the aura as some kind of dreamland, the blueprints for which haven't yet drifted down to earth. The oppressive rushing of his hearing aids as they attempt to amplify ambient noise would disappear, then be replaced by the quiet taps of Steve's fingers against his phone. The weight of Steve beside him would steady the bed and put the vertigo back in its place. When the nausea turned to vomiting, as it always did, Steve held the trash bin so James didn't have to lift his head from the pillow. He would just slide forward a couple of inches, grateful for his boyfriend and the random fresh-scented cleaning wipe at the bottom of the bin, and the chemists who formulated hallucinogens to begin with, for they must've somehow known the need for an opposite to nightmares.

It's little wonder Tasha uses so much. And very understandable why Steve doesn't.

"So." Steve takes a breath, glances one last time at his illegally parked car, and sets his eyes on James's. "We're doing this thing?"

Perfectly energetic and ready to work. Steve's normal resting pace isn't even resting. And not because he's ADHD, not because he's a micromanager who wants to do it all himself. It's the way he chooses to be. It's how he channels the flows and flexes and conductions and rhythms of heartbeat and hands cutting through water at the pool, behind the spitting washing machine, in James's mouth the time he'd choked on an ice cube...

Whether or not they make it home from school in time to watch the news and make fun of the weatherman with the tie that keeps turning into the radar picture and back again--It doesn't matter so much. It's fun. It's a distraction. Sometimes cuddly. Sometimes they poke each other and rasle around like two overgrown highschoolers. Sometimes they make eyes before the TV even warms up and proceed down the hall. That kind of love is, well, love, Surely.

But this, just now. This wide-eyed young man who is clearly choosing to risk a parking violation to help James take care of his little sister. This Steve, who still glows with innocence, not because he's dumb, but because he chooses to fight for the side of good. So what if he doesn't take James out to romantic dinners--and when the hell would they even have time for that? James is fully aware of the headache raking its uneven fingernails over the surface of his brain, catching in the ridges and painfully loosening knots of lucid thought.

"James?" Steve doesn't look back to the car this time. "Should we go?"

"Yes." James shoves his metal hand in his pocket and lets Steve have the other. "On with the mission."

[ofknowlcdge]

Steve Harrington ( Open to anyone )

"I- sorry what?"