i posted about this on twitter but let me talk about it MORE HERE
slight warning for mature content!
steddie but steve wears one of eddieās rings.
it starts as a joke; steve puts on one of eddieās rings when theyāre laying in bed, heads pillowed and heartbeats steady, and steve has gently worked the warm circle of metal off eddieās knuckle and onto his own. eddieās constant stream of pillowtalk trails off into a sweet silence.
he fans his fingers in the air, turning his wrist so the curve of the silver catches the soft lamplight. eddie is quiet, so quiet that steve would think he was asleep if he wasnāt just talking steveās ear off about new riffs.
steve thinks for a split second heās done something wrong. heās immediately soothed by eddie blowing out a sigh and wrapping his arms right around steveās middle.
āShit, Iāve never been so happy to lose a ring.ā
so steve keeps it.
itās a large ring, because both of them have broad palms and similar ring sizes. the ring is snug on steveās middle finger, alone on his knuckles and decorating his hand enough that it goes unseen by those who donāt know.
it becomes a comfort, a worry stone of smooth metal and warm safety. he runs his thumb over the curve of the ingraved bone pattern so often he thinks heās memorized the pattern of it, and the slightest lingering smell of metal if he turns his hand the right way quickly becomes a favourite.
it becomes adoration when eddie plays with his fingers, his hands, his wrists. vice versa, too, because no matter which way their hands move metal clicks in the most captivating way, a reminder that this is them and theyāre here with each other. steve drinks it all in; fingers intertwined and silver knuckles connecting, the heat of his tongue when eddie licks metal behind his teeth, security in how a broad hand holds handcuffs above steveās head and he loses his mind in the press of cold contact.
it becomes the rest of his life when the sun rises, eddie wearing boxers and an apron that both donāt belong to him, standing barefoot in steveās kitchen and humming along to the black sabbath tape from his van playing on steveās cassette player. steve sits on the countertop beside him, stares at the lines of eddieās shoulder and chest, new ink and old scars, muscle and the sweet marks on them.
itās the rest of his life when steve slips his ring off as eddie cooks breakfast for them in steveās kitchen. itās the rest of his life when steve bites his lip in his own quiet happiness when he slides the ring over that finger on his left hand, turning his wrist so it catches the orange glow of the morning sun.
itās the rest of his life when eddie sees him doing it, and promptly abandons the stove to step between steveās legs and kiss him with the soft intention of keeping him forever. itās the rest of his life when steve almost starts crying from his emotions and eddie panics and then panics more when their eggs start burning, and itās the rest of the life when theyāre finally sitting down to eat and eddie shyly links their ankles under the table.
āIāll gladly lose Wayneās ring to you, sweetheart.ā
