Tags: Established Relationship, Making Out, Grinding, Attempted Seduction
Word Count: 405
Ao3 Link
The announcers on TV are saying… something. It’s all a jumble to Eddie, if he's being honest.
He’s tried to understand sports since starting to date Steve, but he still doesn't quite get it. Wayne usually helps fill that void, glad to have someone to talk with.
Still, he enjoys watching him on nights like tonight when Wayne is out. The intent look on his face and seeing him in his element– chattering on about plays and strategy– makes heat writhe in his belly.
So, he does what he does best, and leans in, trailing kisses along Steve’s jaw.
Eddie turns, pulling his legs up underneath him to kneel on the couch and gets to work.
The other boy huffs. “Eddie. I’m watching the game.”
Contrary to his words, he tilts his head to the side nonetheless, granting Eddie access.
He braces his hand against Steve’s cheek and stays there for a while, kissing and nipping at his pulse points, leaning over occasionally to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, taking care to not turn Steve’s head away from the TV.
Slowly but surely, Steve quiets down, his interjections toward the game becoming sparser and sparser until the only sounds are sighs when Eddie gets a particularly good spot.
He buries his hand in Steve’s soft hair, gently scratching his nails against Steve’s scalp, and he finally acquiesces, turning his head away from the game and pressing Eddie’s lips against his own.
Good boy, that’s it, Eddie thinks.
Steve shifts under him, turning to lay on his back, allowing Eddie between his legs. He obliges and starts up a gentle, teasing grind. Not enough to really get them anywhere yet, just for fun.
After a few minutes, he has Steve groaning against him, face lightly flushed, arching up and panting. Delicious.
Grinning, Eddie pulls back, reaching down for his zipper and–
“That’s bullshit! He was barely over the line!”
Steve jolts up like he’s been shocked, eyes once again fixed on the TV. On it, the men in huge shoulderpads are pissed about something and a replay is showing something that's incomprehensible to Eddie, but Steve understands perfectly.
He squints at the bottom of the scorebar. 3rd. He thinks there are 4.
Eddie sighs, smacking a wet kiss to Steve’s cheek and resigning himself to waiting until the game is over. He stands up.
Eddie growing up in Tennessee. Moving to Hawkins. Smothering his little southern accent when kids made fun of him for it. But SOMETIMES it'll slip out. Steve nearly cums on the spot the first time he hears it.
there was a post making the rounds a couple months back suggesting that if it came to it Steve would actually be good at keeping his relationship with Eddie a secret, whereas Eddie... would not. can't find it again, but:
If Eddie was hoping anyone would be dragging him from the school cafeteria into a supply closet today, it definitely wasn't Jeff.
"Dude," Jeff says. "You gotta stop being so obvious. Sooner or later someone else will notice."
"Notice what, man?" Eddie says. It can't be anything to do with his big secret, because Eddie has been carefully rationing his glances at the hickey on Steve Harrington's neck. The hickey Eddie left last night. Because they were necking. On Steve Harrington's bed.
Steve hasn't so much as looked his way all morning, but that's what he said he'd do. We should act like nothing's changed, he'd said, and Eddie had told him it was a good idea. They've already agreed to meet up at Skull Rock after dark.
Christ, Eddie hopes he'll show. It can't have been just a one-time thing. Can it? They barely did anything before Steve's parents came home unexpectedly and Eddie had to sneak down the hall and shimmy out a window.
What little they did was so good. Steve's an amazing kisser.
"The staring," Jeff is saying. "The guys might notice! Or, hell, Harrington might notice!"
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "I wasn't staring at anything!" Eddie says. "And— what do you mean, Harrington might—?"
Jeff shakes his head. "It's the Jack Sewell thing all over again," he says. "You were obsessed with him, too."
"Obsessed?" Eddie says incredulously. "I had a healthy level of disdain, okay—"
"Eddie, c'mon," Jeff says. He's got his patient face on, which is not helping quell the panic clawing its way up Eddie's throat. "I have eyes, man."
"Okay, but this is different," Eddie says, and then throws up a hand with lightning speed to ward off the way Jeff's eyebrows tilt up. "Not that I am conceding the Sewell thing at all, I just mean—"
"I guess it is," Jeff says, frowning at the floor like he's puzzling something out. Which he absolutely should not be doing.
"Stop that," Eddie says. "Stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking."
"You're different around him," Jeff says. "Harrington. You look at him like—"
His eyes go wide just as Eddie's sweaty palm presses over his mouth.
"Mmph!"
"Don't!" Eddie says, frantic. "Don't you fucking dare."
Jeff gooses his side, which is unfair when he knows how ticklish Eddie is, and steps back just far enough to squeak: "You're in love with him!"
"Shut up!" Eddie hisses, blood rushing to his face. "No I'm not! Fuck you!"
Jeff looks every bit as horrified as Eddie feels. "Him, Eddie? Steve Harrington? Seriously?"
"No!" Eddie says, thinking fast. Who did he last see hanging off Steve's arm? "I'm— Brenda Carlisle! I like Brenda, okay? And she likes Harrington! I'm just— trying to figure out why so I can snag her!"
"Bullshit!" Jeff says. "That's— I've never seen you check her out. You never check out girls."
"Yes I do!" Eddie says, mouth dry. He can't be that transparent. There's no way. "I— that time at the pool last summer with those cheerleaders— and— and I'm the one who bought all those skin mags we keep in the van! I check out girls all the time!"
Jeff's clearly not buying it. "It's cool, you know," he says. "I've known you for years, man, I know you wouldn't— make a pass at me, or anything."
Eddie closes his eyes, and when that's not enough he screws up his entire face. "Jesus H.," he says, scrubbing both hands through his hair. "You know what, I'm out of here."
He turns on his heel, but Jeff darts ahead, half-blocking the door. "Hold on, wait. You're still coming to practice, right? We have that gig on Thursday—"
Eddie sighs so hard his lungs are in real danger of collapsing. Can't even make a dramatic exit in peace. "Of course I'm coming to practice," he huffs. "I'd never jeopardize the band, man."
"Okay," Jeff says, raising a hand to clap Eddie's shoulder and freezing in mid-air, hovering awkwardly before he redirects to rub at the back of his own neck instead. "That's— that's good."
Great. Jeff thinks he's contagious. "Alright, man," Eddie says, setting his jaw. "See you around."
Jeff grimaces. "Shit, no, wait," he says, and then he holds out his hand for a handshake. Like a huge fucking dork. Jesus Christ.
Eddie looks to the heavens, but he takes Jeff's hand. He's not an idiot. This is kind of a monumental thing, here.
"Friends?" Jeff says.
"You know it," Eddie says, and ignores the way his eyes threaten to get hot. "And just for the record, I'd rather die with my dick untouched than make it with any of you losers."
"Wait," Jeff says, at the same time as Eddie's brain catches up with what just came out of his mouth. Stupid fucking— "You're still a virgin?"
"I'm leaving," Eddie says, dropping Jeff's hand like it's a dead fish and powerwalking out the door. "Goodbye!"
"Bye!" Jeff calls after him. He's laughing, the bastard. "See you at practice!"
you have to dress in this style for the rest of your life!
(you do not have to follow the beliefs associated with the style if that style has associated beliefs. The wheel curse does not affect anything like that.)
so many people ive known have pushed themselves to burnout trying to deny their disabled reality, skipping accommodations, skipping rests etc. and the world convinces them that the solution to their burnout is to push even harder. it’s a huge tragedy. i know social pressures make it tough but i want more disabled people to make things easier for themselves where possible, to opt out of things that harm them when possible, to quit while they’re ahead. be that person today! protect yourself where you can! take micro breaks while doing your hobby. get that shower chair. sit to brush your teeth. lie down in the middle of the day, even if only for 5 mins. these things add up and it’s so worth it.
Eddie thinks he’s too rough, and too much for Steve. So being soft and tucking Steve in when he’s sick and brushing his hair out of his face and kissing his forehead feels scarier than any fight. He does it anyway, even though he’s sure he’s doing it wrong. Steve just melts at this and he’s not used to it but tells him “You’re not gonna break me, Eds.”
Your dialogue is stiff because everyone is being too honest
Great dialogue can come from radical emotional honesty. But in most real conversations, people
dodge questions
answer indirectly
lie (badly)
change the subject
crack jokes to avoid serious answers
lie (convincingly)
say half of what they mean
tell the truth but get so anxious/angry/defensive others now think they're lying
If your dialogue feels unnatural, it might be because everyone is saying exactly what they think, or articulating their thoughts too well. Try letting characters hide things instead.
Steve’s been independent since forever and won’t ask for help and won’t take it when it’s offered. Eddie finally breaks saying “You act like you have to handle everything alone! I’m right here, Steve. Let me in, man.”
They just shout until their throats are raw. Until Eddie slams his bedroom door and Steve walks out into the storm. But he comes back at 2am. Soaked to the bone, standing on Eddie’s trailer steps.
“Can I need you?” Steve whispers. “Please. Is that allowed?”
Was thinking that we've sorta watched Steve have a little journey with food onscreen. he gives away his food at lunch to Tommy and Carol in s1, he awkwardly eats a chicken dinner at the Hollands (which symbolically was performative) in s2, pointedly tells Dustin that eating ice cream wasn't a good idea for him so he could 'keep in shape for the ladies' in s3 and was excited about food only when he was drugged, he happily and quietly snacks in the back of the station wagon in s4, and then very loudly and gleefully indulges in Boppers in s5. Anyway, I'm probably reading too much into little background moments but it feels like we watched him grow to enjoy himself. Good for him.
“they’re just friends, not EVERYTHING has to be so lesbian ugh” what planet do you live on where everything is lesbian. what is its name. where is it. what is its address. what are the directions. how do i go there
