drcarpetoc-blog

[shushmal]

Steve bites back a sigh when he sees a hand waving just out of the corner of his eye, trying to grab his attention from where Steve's gazing pitifully at his drink. The club is loud, music blasting, and maybe it's a little pathetic for Steve to be at his place of work on his day off, but Robin's behind the bar and he gets free drinks. Unfortunately, the kind of guys who frequent his workplace are usually the opposite of Steve's type.

So, he's prepared, for when he looks up, to gently let down whatever club boy who's decided to shoot their shot with him tonight. They all start to look the same to him: bleached hair, glitter, crop tops and low riding pants. Men who are too much like Steve to be what Steve's looking for.

When he looks up, however, his eyes go a little wide and his lips part from around the straw against his tongue.

"Hi!" yells the guy, long hair, long legs, long fingers. He's wearing way too much leather and denim for this place, and he must be boiling under that jacket. "W-would you like to dance?"

Steve takes a longer moment to take him in: his shoulders hunched up around his ears, fingers twisting his hair nervously, eyes big and brown and beautiful.

Straightening from where he's been hiding against the wall, Steve steps up into the guy's space, watches his eyes go bigger and his face go pink. He's perfect.

"I'm Steve," he says, leaning in so he can be heard over the music. "And you don't look like the kind of guy who dances."

"Oh, I'm not," the guy says, eyes flicking around Steve's face, dropping to Steve's chest, to his thighs and back up again. "Um, sorry. I'm Eddie."

Steve grins. "Nice to meet you, Eddie."

Eddie's mouth quirks up, an giddy, boyish smile. "P-pleasure's mine," he says. "And I may be terrible at it, but I'd love to dance with you. If you'd like."

"I would like," Steve tells him. He holds out his hand, feels his heart flutter when Eddie takes it. "I'd like that very much."