written for ‘first' | wc: 336 | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: pre-relationship, eddie has a big ol' crush on steve, feat. corroded coffin
The sound of a motorcycle engine at a bar was not uncommon. So, excuse Eddie if he didn’t pay attention to every single one while enjoying a pre-set cigarette.
Until, of course, one of his lovely bandmates decided to knock shoulders with him. Repeatedly.
“Shut up, Gareth. He’s not my anything,” Eddie bit out. Inhaled a deep toke, gaze firmly at his feet.
Maybe the natural sound of a bar weren’t the only reason Eddie refused to look. So what, if he’d invited Steve to one of their gigs—well, him and Robin—and just Steve said yes.
So what, if he didn’t want to give away his horrible, obvious crush by whipping around at any sign of that maroon Beemer.
Gareth scoffed, shoving Eddie again until he rolled his eyes and turned.
Only to find some dude on a bright red Honda CB750, pushing down the kickstand with his heel, bike rocking into place between the tense muscles of his jean-clad thighs.
A bike from Wayne’s era, not Steve’s.
Steve also didn’t wear leather. Much less a black leather jacket with two white stripes around the arms.
Eddie couldn’t breathe as the ride removed his helmet, running a hand through mussed hair, which apparently even sweat couldn’t force into common ugliness.
Steve Harrington rode a motorcycle.
Jeff nudged at him. But Eddie would not have moved for God himself and miss Steve unzipping his leather jacket, revealing skin flushed pink from his cheeks, down his throat into a white t-shirt.
“Well, that’s a first. Harrington broke him.”
Shut up, Gareth, Eddie wanted to snap. But his mouth, his eyes, his feet, wouldn’t move when Steve sighted them and strode over like his very existence wasn’t making Eddie implode.
Eddie had nothing else in his head, not with Steve looking like that.
All he could say was, “Nice bike.”
Steve fixed him with this look, this smirk, like he knew something all along.