got the idea in my head of the party clocking the steddie tension and bullying eddie about it so this happened | 1.7k | rating: g or t, depending on how you feel about swearing
“I’m gonna need you two to either quit that or get your shit together and make out already.”
Eddie drags his eyes away from the door at the top of the basement stairs that Steve’s just closed on his way out to pick up Max and El, back to the task at hand, the table in front of him, his lost little sheep taking their places around the table in the Wheelers’ basement. It's Erica that spoke up, her eyebrow raised in a condescending kind of way that Eddie’s not sure if she learned from her mother or from Steve.
“Hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth,” he chastises, a little belatedly, a lot unnecessarily, and very obviously a deflection from the meat and potatoes of what she said.
It’s not just little Sinclair watching Eddie anymore; they’re all peering expectantly at him like they’re waiting for an explanation. Well, they’re not gonna get it. This little dance that he and Steve are doing - if it’s even a dance at all - is nobody’s business but their own.
It’s been months now and it’s driving Eddie out of his goddamned mind but it’s not like he’s going to talk to the fucking kids about it. Jeff and Grant have been pretty receptive about the whole thing and Eddie’s talked both their ears off to the point of annoyance. Gareth won’t even give him the time of day anymore when Eddie starts in on talking about Steve.
It’s just that he and Steve have had this little back and forth going for a few months now, where they’ll flirt and Eddie will just start to think that maybe’s he’s got a shot and then Steve will back away. And then they’ll go a few days without talking and they’ll be back at it with a vengeance, picking on each other and making suggestive comments and very intentionally checking one another out.
But then Eddie’ll see Steve laying that same charm onto every girl that walks into the video store and snap back to himself. The mixed signals make him want to scream a little bit. One minute he’s psyching himself up to ask Steve to come back to his after work, maybe watch a stupid movie and make out on the couch, but then he reminds himself that he’s fucking delusional and Steve is just like that. He’s a flirt, and the way he flirts with Eddie doesn’t mean anything.
But the kids are still watching him, still waiting for an explanation about the way he and Steve were just gazing at each other as Steve climbed the stairs to leave, and so Eddie sighs.
“It’s nothing, okay?”
“Right,” says Henderson with a roll of his eyes and a shrug of his shoulders. “Which is why you two can’t stop making those lovesick faces at each other and flirting with each other, and why neither of you can ever shut up about each other.”
“Steve talks about me?”
“Jesus Christ,” Mike mutters. He’s tipping his chair back, balancing it on two legs. It’d be so easy for Eddie to just… tap it with his foot, send little Wheeler to the floor.
“Anyway!” Eddie says again, clapping his hands together. “It doesn’t matter! It’s nothing! Stevie’s just… like that. Y’know? With everybody. Let’s get to work, we’ve got a campaign to get through, no reason for us to be wasting time talking about Steve Harrington. Right?”
“Wait,” Will cuts in. His smile is a little mischievous, a little mean, and suddenly Eddie doesn’t remember why he likes the littlest Byers as much as he does. “You think Steve acts the way he does with you, with everybody?”
“Yeah. We’re friends. He’s… flirtatious. It’s not a thing, y’know? It’s just. A thing.”
“So you really think he willingly stuffs four teenagers in his car every Friday night to drop us off here, and then goes back out to pick up two more teenagers to bring them out here because…? Friends?” Lucas is looking at Eddie like he thinks he might be ready to grow another head.
Okay. Fuck. So they’re actually talking about this. Eddie and a bunch of snotty little kids are about to talk about his fucking crush on their babysitter. Jesus Christ.
“Listen. We are not discussing this.”
Will ignores him. “If you like him, ask him out.”
“And ruin a perfectly good friendship, baby Byers? I think I’ll pass. Besides, him and Nance…”
“Are long over,” Will insists, leaning forward and putting his arms on the table. “She’s still going out with my brother.”
“Like I said,” Erica cuts in again, “I need you two to suck face already or cut it out. We might be kids but we aren’t blind.”
“Please, he doesn’t even like me like that.”
“Are you kidding?” Dustin again. It’s like a game of round robin, each kid around the table lobbing questions and insistences at him in turn. “How can you say that, Eddie? The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you. He spends his Fridays here, in his ex-girlfriend's basement, to spend time with you. Don’t you see the way he watches you?”
“He just… I tell a good story.”
Mike lets loose a scoff and a sigh that could very well shake the foundations of the house around them. “I don’t even like Steve, but yeah. He treats you different. Special.”
“I already told you - he flirts with everybody. He’s a flirt! That doesn’t mean that it means something.”
“Who else does he call baby?” Lucas asks him, deadpan.
“He has pet names for everybody.”
“No he doesn’t. Who else is he going around touching all the time?”
“Robin, who he does have a pet name for. He calls her Bird.”
“Because you started calling her Bird. He picked that up from you,” Dustin argues. “And yes, he talks about you. He asks about you when he hasn’t seen you in a few days. He mentions stuff you said. He had an Ozzy tape playing in his car today and when I asked about it, y’know what he said?”
“‘Eddie gave it to me,’” Will supplies with a smile. “And he was smiling when he said it. That weird smile he gets sometimes. You know the one.”
“The Eddie smile.”
Eddie’s mouth is dry. His head is swimming a little bit. His heart races. There’s blood pounding in his ears as he thinks about Steve listening to The Ultimate Sin in his car even when Eddie’s not around to tell him about the production of the album or explain the intricacies of the instrumentals. He listens to it because he enjoys the music Eddie’s shown him. He talks about Eddie to the kids, asks about him.
Eddie exists to Steve outside of the weekly campaigns at the Wheelers’.
Doesn’t mean Steve likes Eddie the way Eddie likes him, though. Eddie can’t let himself dwell too much on the possibilities of what that could mean. He’s been crushing for months now. It’s almost winter in Hawkins, and Steve’s started coming around to campaigns more and more often the closer to the holidays it gets; Eddie figured it’s because Nancy will be coming home for Christmas soon - she was just here for Thanksgiving and Steve spent most of that Friday upstairs with her instead of in the basement with Eddie and the kids. So Eddie just kind of figured they were reconciling…
He’d moped about it after he went home, certain that he’d never have a chance with Steve in spite of his very big, very obvious crush on him.
The thing is, Eddie’s never been all that subtle in his affections. He’s a tactile guy as it is, but with Steve it’s like he can’t keep his hands to himself at all. He finds himself reaching out whenever they’re together, a moon orbiting a planet, and Steve is all too willing to be the gravitational pull that draws Eddie close.
But that doesn’t mean he likes Eddie.
Which is what he says to the kids. They’re still looking at him, waiting for his response.
“You are so blind, God,” Mike groans, covering his face. “We can all see the way he feels about you, and you’re so gaga for him it’s a fucking miracle he hasn’t asked you out himself. Jesus, we are all so sick of this shit.”
“Language, Wheeler.”
“Stop deflecting, Munson. If you don’t say something when he gets back here, I’m gonna tell him for you. We’re all fucking tired of this!”
“I don’t wanna hear it from you, of all people!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you don’t know then I’m not gonna tell you. Dumbass teenagers.”
There’s a flurry of footfalls above them, and then the basement door opens to reveal El and Max coming slowly down the stairs with Steve following close behind.
“Tense down here,” Steve smiles. “What’d we just walk in on?”
Panic rises in Eddie as Mike pins him with an evil smile and starts to open his mouth to spill the beans.
“Good news first or bad news first?” Eddie blurts out, holding out a hand towards Mike to shut him up.
“Uh oh,” Steve says. He pauses on the bottom step as the girls hover near the table. Steve’s eyebrows draw together, a little confused and a little concerned, and Eddie’s overcome with the urge to reach out and touch him. “Bad news first, always.”
“We were arguing about you.”
“And the good news?”
“Good news for you, either way. You have the option to prove them all wrong or severely gross them out.”
That crease between Steve’s eyebrows deepens. “What are you talking about?”
Well. Here goes nothing.
“The kids are all convinced you’re into me the same way I’m into you but I told ‘em that’s ridiculous. So you can tell ‘em they’re all idiots or you can come over here and kiss me, make ‘em all wanna wash their eyes out with bleach.”
Steve’s smile is slow to spread, but spread it does. It starts as a twitch in the corner of his mouth and his face softens. That twitch goes a little lopsided, one side of his mouth tipping up into an uncertain smile before it bleeds over onto the rest of his mouth, and he’s grinning.
The Eddie smile.
It takes him no time at all to cross from the stairs to where Eddie sits at the head of the table and he drags Eddie up out of his seat.
“Guess we better get some bleach ready, then, baby,” Steve says.
And then he kisses him.
because you both asked to be tagged literally anytime i write something: @steves-strapcollection and @patchworkgargoyle - here, i wrote something
Eddie's the type of bf to legit tackle you in a hug if you both haven't seen each other in a while
eds definitely issss!
when the corroded coffin starts gaining traction and they go on tour, if you can't come along, eddie always makes an effort to consistently and constantly text you. he always makes sure that you're eating and hydrating properly and if you need it, eddie will call you to let you rant/vent about anything and everything.
99% of the time, eddie either sends you blurry ass photos of him and the band onstage/backstage, silly little photos of him, the scenery, or outfit photos before he plays.
eds also sends the most random videos of him at like 4am. one of your personal favorites is of him making a grilled cheese sandwich but he ends up dropping the whole entire sandwich onto the floor and lets out the shrillest scream you've ever heard followed by a loud "NOOOOO" and violent sniffling (if you look close enough, you can see literal tears in his eyes)
he then sends a video of himself 15 minutes later eating the same damn sandwich he dropped on the fucking floor. you know because eddie literally said, "this is the same sandwich by the way." with the most stupidest grin and a cute thumbs up before biting an entire chunk out of it.
needless to say, you scolded him about eating food off the floor. again.
he always sends you good morning and good night texts and if he misses it, eddie apologizes with the most cheesiest (yet somehow cute?) gifs and a flurry of your favorite emojis.
eddie also always signs off with either a cute little guitar emoji or bat emoji :)
here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk.
1k words, mostly dialogue
"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"
"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.
he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.
"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."
"uh, sure?"
eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"
"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.
"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."
"a show? like a concert?"
"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."
"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."
"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"
he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.
"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."
safe, then. tentatively.
eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.
the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.
the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.
"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.
"i'm sorry?"
"i said, the front bottoms."
"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"
"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"
"sure."
eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."
they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.
"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"
"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"
"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."
"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."
"well what about you? what do you listen to?"
"guess."
"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."
eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."
out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.
steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."
"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."
this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."
"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"
"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."
"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"
"i am. trauma nurse."
"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"
"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."
"shit."
"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"
"line cook."
steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."
"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"
"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."
"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"
"mmm."
it's not a denial.
they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.
"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."
it clicks into place, then, for eddie.
"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"
steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"
"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."
"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"
"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.
"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."
"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.
steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.
so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.
still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.
the charming of steve goddamned harrington, as told by jeff
written for @steddiemicrofic prompt: ‘charm’ | wc: 548 | rated: g | cw: none, outsider pov
to say that jeff has known eddie all their lives would not be an exaggeration or an overstatement. one of jeff's earliest memories is his fifth birthday party- a cookout with his parents and his sister and the boy who lived in the house across the street.
he didn't even know eddie's name at the time, he just remembers the way the boy, a year or two older than himself, had pressed a finger to his mouth in a shh kind of gesture as he tore off chunks of his blackened hot dog to feed to the ancient yellow lab curled up under the picnic table in the back yard.
and now, more than a decade later, jeff is still watching in awe as eddie quietly slips treats to the object of his affection. except this time the treats aren't blackened hot dog bits- they're smiles. and the object of eddie's affection isn't a geriatric yellow labrador anymore- it's ex king of hawkins high steve goddamned harrington.
and the thing is... steve is reciprocating. he's smiling back, his face a little pink at the edges. he's laughing at all of eddie's bad jokes- actually laughing, too, like he’s charmed by him
these two idiots are gone on each other, and jeff doesn't even think they realize it. they definitely don't realize whatever feelings they're nursing are being reciprocated; if they did jeff's sure he would have heard about it before now. he and eddie don't hide things from each other and they never really have.
whatever this is, it must be new. maybe they're sneaking around together, getting their bearings before telling their friends. maybe they're both just crushing and skirting around the elephant in the room. jeff sincerely hopes it's the former; he's not sure how much moping and pining he can take from eddie before he's just gonna have to snap and lock them in a closet together until they come strolling out covered in hickeys.
gareth and grant are noticing the tension between eddie and steve tonight too. grant's good at subtlety, but gareth wears his suspicion in the hard set to his mouth and the crease between his brows. after what happened with jason during spring break, gareth's hackles are up around anyone that's not one of theirs, and with good reason. steve, though... jeff's got an inkling that steve might be more like them than he lets on.
so maybe steve is more of a blondie guy than a black sabbath guy. so what? eddie will see to that soon enough. jeff is absolutely certain of it.
jeff has known eddie all his life. this tension with steve is absolutely going to snap eventually, and jeff cannot wait to tell his best friend that he's seen it coming. he can't wait to tease him for all these lovesick gazes and those lingering touches and the bad jokes and the absolutely outrageous nicknames (big boy, ed? c'mon, man.).
until then, jeff is so content to just watch this unfold. he's taking notes. maybe someday, when the world gets its shit together, he can stand up as eddie's best man and rib him about this in front of all their family and friends.
eddie deserves that almost as much as he deserves steve goddamned harrington.
For the writing prompts I think 56 and 58 could be cute together ☺️
SO TRUE, those would go perfect together
56. "Just marry me already."
58. "Did I just say that out loud?"
"god, will you just... marry me already?"
there is no way steve heard that right. no way. eddie's got his mouth full of lasagna, pasta sauce smeared across his lips and chin, a fork in one hand and a breadstick in the other, mopping up sauce and cheese from his plate. with his mouth full like that, steve could have misheard him.
"what?" he asks anyway, his voice coming out a little breathless.
"oh fuck, did i just say that out loud?"
"did i... hear you right? did you just propose to me in our kitchen? over some fucking lasagna?"
"ah, fuck," eddie says, his shoulders slumping a little. he puts his fork down, shoves the last of the breadstick in his mouth, and swipes his napkin over the bottom half of his face. "listen. this wasn't how i wanted to do that."
he's still talking with his fucking mouth full. steve's head is swimming at the admissions and eddie is still talking with his mouth full.
"how... how did you want to do that? you want to do that?"
"yes, okay? yes. fuck. now it's..." eddie lets loose an explosive sigh. "now it's ruined. i was gonna wait. not long just, like. spring, probably. i swear to god i was gonna do it right, stevie. steak dinner, wine, fancy restaurant where you need reservations - all of it."
"you wanna marry me?"
"of course i wanna marry you. do you... do you wanna marry me?"
"yeah... yeah, i wanna marry you."
it takes steve by surprise, the honesty in his own words. for a long time, marriage was the goal. and then with the way life kept handing him monster after supernatural monster, steve figured he probably wouldn't live long enough to get married. and then... him and eddie... and eddie never really seemed like the marrying type. steve had resigned himself to never being able to have that.
and then robin and nance had that ceremony last year. it wasn't exactly... legally binding, but it got steve thinking again. it got steve thinking about him and eddie, a ceremony like robin and nancy's, tuxes and rings and vows and celebrating their love with all their friends.
and eddie's been thinking about it too apparently. holy shit.
"okay, so. i didn't do it right. but. steve, i wanna marry you. we can have a ceremony like -"
"like robin and nance," steve finishes, and eddie's face splits into a smile.
"yeah. sorry i didn't... do it right."
steve laughs. "who cares? when has any part of our relationship been traditional?"
"never," eddie smiles. "i love you."
"i love you too, eds."
"love me so much you're gonna be my husband."
"yeah. and you love me so much you're gonna be mine."
written for @steddiemicrofic | prompt: hole | rating: g | wc: 404 | cws: none
There can be no holes in Steve’s plan. He has to get this exactly right.
It’s been planned down to the most infinitesimal detail, from the flight to the hotel to the restaurant, the drinks and meals and desserts.
There can be no holes in his plan or his blazer pocket or the script he has written for himself.
The flight goes off without a hitch—they fly business class across the Atlantic Ocean and touch down in Barcelona with bellies full of white wine and surprisingly tasty airplane food, and then they step off the plane together to a gorgeous sunny morning that feels like an Indiana spring.
Steve follows Eddie through the airport to claim their bags, watching the way the shoulders of his jacket pull taut with his movements.
He checks again for holes in the pockets of his own jacket and finds nothing there but the little velvet box he’s been hoarding for months.
Eddie is alive, buzzing with excitement and awe in the back seat of the cab from the airport to the hotel, and Steve watches in wonder as Eddie’s dimples deepen in his cheeks with his broad smile.
Steve’s plan can’t have a single fucking hole in it. This proposal has to be perfect.
The suite at the hotel is perfect, with massive floor to ceiling windows that let in the natural light and offer a stunning spacious view of the sprawling and active city below. Steve steps out onto the balcony where his plans are going to be put into action tonight and makes note of the slats in the floor beneath his feet.
He’ll have to keep a tight hold on the ring, so it doesn’t fall through the holes from his shaking hands.
Dinner is quiet and intimate, just the way Steve wanted it to be; they drink sangria by moonlight and stuff themselves with so much paella Steve thinks he might actually pop.
Eddie bursts into laughter later when Steve presents him with the ring box, his features bathed in the colorful lights of the city below, and for a moment Steve wants to melt into the grated holes of the balcony floor under his feet, thinking he’s somehow fucked this all up.
But then Eddie reaches into the pocket of his own jacket, and there’s a ring in his hand, and they laugh together.
All Steve wants for the 2023 baseball season is for the media to leave him alone for once. His reputation is still suffering after he was caught last season in a very compromising position with one of his teammates, and he just wants to lay low and play a good season. A trip to the World Series wouldn’t hurt either.
A voice from his past has other plans, though.
Eddie hasn’t been able to forget what the two of them had together when they were in high school, or his promise to Steve when they parted ways the summer after senior year: Someday I’ll write a whole album for you. It’s been a decade, and all the pieces are in place for Eddie to finally make good on that promise.
Steve is in for a roller coaster of a season.
Featuring art by @thatnerdemryn and an upcoming playlist by @steves-strapcollection, beta'd by the magnificent @patchworkgargoyle! Written for @steddiebang!
There’s a cookout at the Hopper-Byers home for the fourth of July. None of them can handle fireworks anymore, after everything, and so Hopper and Joyce have a cookout and everybody comes.
It’s El that pulls out the polaroid camera. She’s taking pictures of everybody in that quiet way that she has and then handing the pictures to the subject of each of them as soon as they pop out of the camera. Steve and Robin’s back pockets are both stuffed with pictures. Dustin’s got his sticking out from under his hat. Eddie’s battle vest is bulging at the pockets with them. Hopper has a stack held down with a stone on the table next to the grill.
At the end of the night, after the kids have all fallen asleep in a pile in front of the TV, Steve tugs his pictures from his pocket and flips through them.
In one, he’s sitting with Lucas, talking with his hands, and Lucas’ head is thrown back in laughter. In another, he’s picking Robin up and spinning her around. In this one, he’s got his hands on his hips and is giving Max a look as she grins up at him.
In another…
Oh.
He’s sitting beside Eddie at the picnic table. Their elbows are pressed together and they each have a cheeseburger in their hands. But they’re looking at each other. Eddie’s smiling, his dimples deep and his scar pulled taut on his cheek. His head is tilted to the side a little bit, in that way that it sometimes does when he says, Steve. Steve’s own smile is a little goofy, a little lopsided, like it gets sometimes when a pretty girl’s giving him the time of day.
There’s longing in those gazes.
At the other end of the couch, right this moment, Eddie’s got his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted back against the back of the couch. His mouth is hanging open and he’s snoring a little bit.
Steve finds himself staring, and he catches himself, the way the smile tugs at one side of his mouth and…
Oh.
“Robin,” he whispers, nudging her with his elbow.
“Mmm.” She’s on the verge of sleep too.
“Look.”
She cracks her eyes open and Steve hands her the picture. She looks at it.
