Chapstick Steddie brainrot
Steve actually likes that Eddie smokes. Robin says it’s gross and he’s gross for liking it, but whatever. Robin isn’t the one kissing him.
He likes that Eddie smells like tobacco and leather and sweat and motor oil (and sometimes weed). He likes sharing a cigarette with Eddie in bed late at night, wrapped in cheap cotton sheets, an ashtray perched on one of their chests. He loves the way Eddie’s eyes shimmer in the flames when Steve lights a cigarette for him.
Really the only problem Steve has is the way it dries Eddie’s lips out. And this is a totally solvable problem. Steve knows it’s solvable. He himself has solved it. But maybe Eddie never had to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with Becky Molinczek in the eighth grade. Which was more like ten seconds of awkward kissing followed by five minutes of Becky lecturing him about the importance of lip care in making out while digging around in her purse for chapstick only to produce a cherry lip smacker she then demanded he put on if he wanted any more time in Heaven.
That was the first time he’d touched an honest-to-God boob. Her left one. He was pretty sure it was mostly boob and only a little tissue. He still gets a semi when he smells fake cherries.
He figures he’ll start subtly: making sure to put on some chapstick in front of Eddie after they stub out their smokes to head back into the Wheeler house. He smiles at Eddie, who leans in and murmurs “mmm, shiny” before stealing a kiss. Completely ignoring the black and white plastic tube Steve has proffered.
For two weeks, Steve leaves chapsticks everywhere he can think of. There’s one currently melting in Eddie’s glove box. Another one is gathering dust on Eddie’s nightstand. He’d held his breath hopefully when Eddie’s hand alighted on the one in his guitar case, but he was moving it aside in search of a pick. Hell, Steve had even tucked one in the pocket of Eddie’s denim jacket when he kissed him goodnight last Friday.
Eddie was impervious to subtlety. It was time to go full Molinczek.
Steve had Thursdays off, so he and Eddie had started having movie nights on Wednesdays. He honestly couldn’t remember the end of a single movie they’d chosen. The doorbell rang just as Steve is putting popcorn on the coffee table.
Steve waits until Eddie is settled in, then climbs into his lap. Eddie holds him by the hips and grins. “Okay, Harrington. I guess we’re not gonna watch the movie after all.”
Steve ignores him, leaning in for a kiss. While he’s got Eddie distracted, he reaches into the pocket of the jacket Eddie had haphazardly thrown across the back of the couch and produces a small plastic tube. Opening the lid, he breaks away from the kiss.
“This, Edward, is Chapstick.” Eddie looks at him like he’s deranged.
“It’s for your lips,” Steve continues, applying it to his own lips liberally.
“And you know, smoking really chaps your lips,” Steve levels a look at him, holding his eyes for a moment before leaning in to plant a deep kiss on Eddie’s mouth, spreading the balm across Eddie’s lips.
When they finally break apart, Eddie grins up at him. “Please, for the love of god and my mouth, wear it.”
“Only if that’s always how I get to apply it.”
Steve rolls his eyes and starts to say something, but it’s cut off when Eddie yanks him forward and kisses him again.
The point’s probably been made.
