@skullrockbi i hope you don't mind that i wrote a little thing this idea literally haunted me in my dreams and became my paralysis demon (affectionate)
Steve didn't even want to go to Vegas. He got dragged along because he's technically an executive-to-be and this whole trip is some networking/ass-kissing venture to secure that executive position. He doesn't know what the point is when his mother owns the company, but here he is.
Worst of all, this trip was scheduled for the summer. In Las Vegas. A literal desert.
Steve isn't some newbie when it comes to Vegas; he's got some family out here that he used to visit every summer. In fact, he'd rather be awkwardly catching up with them right now than standing in front of the Bellagio fountain surrounded by...friends...he guesses.
Honestly, he'd trade just about anything to be back home right now, sprawled across his couch with Robin and a box of pizza.
"Let's visit the Venetian next," Jackson says, grinning as he watches a pair of girls walking by. His eyes linger on their asses, and Steve elbows him roughly.
"Is the casino good?" Eric asks, tugging at the collar of his polo to air out some of the heat.
A breeze pushes by, ruffling Steve's hair in the wind. He huffs, running his fingers through it as the fountain begins its water show. A chorus of oohs and ahhs and camera noises start around them as a cool mist lands on the back of Steve's neck.
"Does it matter? A casino's a casino," Phineas replies.
It does, in fact, matter. Steve bites his tongue, holding back the urge to explain that some casinos are better than others. He's not going to gamble anyway. He's just going to watch the others spend their money and try not to cringe when they jokingly ask him to lend them more from his endless supply.
Jackson is cut off by some guy shoving him and Eric aside. The guy completely ignores the offended noises and shouts, coming to a stop right in front of Steve.
He's wearing leather pants and a slightly cropped shirt for some band that sounds vaguely familiar from Robin's ramblings about up-and-coming musicians. Chunky rings decorate his fingers, and Steve tries very hard to not get distracted by them. His hair is wild but utterly defeated by the dry heat of Las Vegas and a subpar shower routine.
Steve opens his mouth to ask what the guy wants when he drops to one knee, staring up at Steve like he's some kind of deity sent from above. "Will you marry me?" he asks.
His voice is rough, like he spends most of his time screaming. Maybe he does, considering the band shirt. A few feet away, Steve can see three other guys in similar outfits sporting the pained grimaces of second-hand embarrassment.
"Are you drunk?" Steve asks.
Ignoring the mocking laughter from around them, Steve finds himself inexplicably saying, "You don't even have a ring."
The guy blinks, curses, and quickly yanks one of his rings off. He holds it up with a grin, his cheeks slightly flushed as he asks, "How about now, big boy?"
The ring is shaped like a bat with rubies for eyes and diamonds for fangs. It's so ridiculous that Steve finds it endearing. The guy is being genuine, and that combined with the nickname makes his cheeks warm.
"You don't know my name," Steve says. "I don't know yours."
"Eddie Munson, but I'm not attached to Munson if that's an issue."
Steve can't help laughing, pushing his fingers through his hair again. He watches Eddie's eyes track the movement, his lips slightly parted as though he's breathless from something so innocuous.
He's about to introduce himself and tell Eddie to stand up already (that can't be good for his knees), when Phineas nudges him. "Steve, man, knock it off. You aren't gay," he says, his lip curling in slight disgust at the word.
Steve feels something in him snap, some tight hold on his control just giving up. He has a sudden realization: he hates his job, he hates his coworkers, and he hates who he is around them. He's just never done anything about it.
On the other hand, he finds himself utterly enamored by Eddie's clearly impulsive audacity to approach some random guy on the street and ask for his hand in marriage.
He ignores Phineas and looks back at Eddie. "Why?" he asks.
A hopeful smile tugs at Eddie's lips, and he starts to fidget with the bat ring. "Honestly, you're gorgeous. I've literally never seen anyone as pretty as you, sweetheart," he says.
"Can we have a chuppah? And break a glass?"
"I'd marry you in a vat of tapioca pudding, Stevie."
Steve snorts and reaches out, tugging on Eddie's arm to pull him up from the ground. "Let's just stick to the chuppah and glass," he says.
"Well, it's not official until you put the ring on," he says, offering Eddie his left hand.
With a shell-shocked awe like he didn't think this would actually work, Eddie slides the ring onto Steve's finger. It's an odd, unexpected weight, but Steve likes it.
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