#tbh idk what this is. posts it and hides in my burrow and peeks at you

[eddiethehunted]

here have this silly thing based on a conversation between me and my roommate. i will not tell you which of us ate sand on purpose on more than one occasion. that is for you to decide

Steddie (could be pre-steddie or established steddie) | Rating: T | CW: mention of alcohol, swearing | ao3

—————

Steve takes a sip of Eddie’s drink, nose wrinkling when the sugary sweetness of it hits his tongue. The ice in the glass clinks and catches in the light as he hands it back to Eddie with a poorly disguised grimace.

“It’s… good,” he attempts, giving Eddie a smile. Eddie levels him with a look of contempt, snatching his glass back and immediately tipping it back and (loudly) slurping an ice cube into his mouth again.

“Just say you hate fun things and go,” he says around the ice cube, which makes his mouth glisten all pretty (mostly because he’s drooling a bit with how big the ice cube is, but whatever).

“Sorry, man, I just don’t think that breaking your teeth with ice and then rotting them out of your mouth with all that goddamn sugar is fun.”

Eddie scoffs, makes a loud wet slurping sound that makes Steve’s ears burn even as he wrinkles his nose again.

“I literally ate sand last weekend. I don’t think a bit of ice and sugar is gonna kill me.” Eddie crunches loudly and fishes another ice cube out, popping it into his mouth casually, as if this is a normal thing to say.

Steve’s amused concern melts into sheer confusion. “Wait, what?”

“I said,” Eddie says, lightly kicking Steve’s shin with each word, “I ate sand last weekend, so I don’t think this,” he raises up his glass and shakes it slightly, making the ice rattle around, “is gonna kill me.”

“Okay, yeah— no, that’s what I thought you said.”

“Cool. So we’re on the same page.”

No the fuck they are not.

“Eddie.”

Eddie hums a vague acknowledgement, and Steve stares at him in disbelief. He’s sitting there happily sipping his too-sweet alcoholic concoction from Hell, basking in the sun beside Steve’s pool while Steve is trying to decide if Eddie is fucking okay.

“Why would you eat sand?”

“I like the crunch,” Eddie says like that’s perfectly reasonable.

“That’s— Eddie, that’s the rocks.” Steve is really trying not to sound like he thinks Eddie has lost it, but unfortunately he does kind of think that, so it doesn’t work all that well. “Like, literal fucking rocks.”

“I know. But just, you know, sometimes you want something crunchy?” Eddie shrugs. “I didn’t have ice on hand.”

“So you ate sand?”

“God, you’re making it sound like I’m scooping it up in a spoon and eating it like ice cream or something,” Eddie says. “It’s more like, you know when you take a pinch of salt when you’re cooking stuff? Just a bit like that.”

He fishes another ice cube out with his tongue. Steve’s so thoroughly perplexed right now that he doesn’t even have the capacity to be horny about it.

“You take a pinch of sand and eat it?” he asks, sitting up now. “Like you purposefully go up to a pile of sand and pick some up and… put it in your mouth?”

“Just sometimes,” Eddie says defensively around the ice cube. It comes out sounding like juth thumtimethh. He kicks at Steve’s shin again. “Don’t knock it ‘til ya try it, sweet cheeks.”

Thweet cheeksthh.

“You know what,” Steve mutters, “never mind. Just eat your fucking ice, man.”