Now that I am free from the torture nexus (grad school and regular school) I am free to continue my stories!
Part One, Part Two Also on Ao3
Divider from @steddiecameraroll-graphics
Eddie thought the yoga pants were bad, but that’s only until his dream man, who Chrissy has informed him is named Steve, decides to wear the tiniest pair of shorts known to man four weeks into the torture that is regularly scheduled yoga classes.
Also, Eddie can not believe that he has the hots for a guy named Steve. He used to have standards.
But Steve or no, the man is searingly hot and, apparently, extremely kind. Eddie knows this personally because the first day Steve shows up in his little shorts, Eddie makes the mistake of looking up right in the middle of the cat part of cat/cow and gets an absolutely sinful eyeful of Steve’s arched back and thrown-back head. Eddie swears he caught a little glimpse of something in the tiny gap between the other man’s shorts and his perfectly hairy thighs and that is the only reason he ends up where he is now, face-planting in a pose that requires almost no balance.
Anyone would do the same thing if they saw what he saw.
Unfortunately, he makes a very loud thud-slap sound and lets out a little oomph on his way down which draws the attention of the entire class, Steve included. He’s ready to let the cool hands of death take him under right up until he sees Steve, beautiful Steve, get up and make his way to where Eddie has made a home for himself on the mat.
He crouches down, tilting his head so he can make eye contact with Eddie, “Hey man, you alright? Looks like maybe you hit your head,” he says, gentle and slow. Great , Eddie thinks, now he thinks I’ve given myself brain damage from cat-cow.
“Yeah, yup, all good. Just, uh…taking a little break.” The guy gives him a considering look, clearly not buying anything Eddie is selling. Eddie can’t blame him, the smacking sound his face made was unnaturally loud. Eddie is going to find a way to blame this on Chrissy. She clearly picked out these hardwood floors specifically for their slapability, he’s sure of it.
“Alright, well, a break is probably a good idea. How about we step out for a second and get you looked at? I’m first aid certified and know a thing or two about concussions.” Steve has a wry smile on his mouth that, once again, draws Eddie’s attention to how well formed the guy is, even if stupid mouth.
“Yeah, yeah ok,” he says, maybe playing up the dazed and confused act a little bit. Eddie is fine, he knows he is, but the actual man of all his dreams is offering his hand out to help him up and Eddie would really like to take it, so he does.
Steve hauls him up effortlessly, legs and forearms flexing slightly in a way that would make Eddie fall over again from all the blood rushing south if not for the lingering sense of humiliation. Everyone is very much staring at them, Chrissy included. He refuses to give her the satisfaction of looking her way.
And maybe he throws her a little bird behind his back on his way out. Who could say for sure?
Steve leads him into the little hallway connected to the stupidly labyrinthian hallways that wind through the rest of the rec center. Eddie has wondered more than one if this is how every rec center is built, or if Chrissy just chose to work in this torture nexus for shits and giggles. He wouldn’t be surprised either way.
At least this torture nexus has benches. Benches that devastatingly handsome men can help rat goblin men that have been called "weirdly sexy" more than once, thank you very much, onto.
“Easy, there ya go, stud. You got a water bottle?” Despite what he thought about being fine, Eddie might just keel over into an early grave. Maybe they can make it out of the planks of this bench to commemorate the day a Calvin Klein model called him stud. Jesus H Christ.
“Huh?” He asks eloquently. He watches as Steve’s brow crinkles, concern for Eddie’s health clearly growing.
“Water bottle, you got one or should I grab one?” Eddie wonders if he says no if Steve will let him drink out of his and immediately and forcefully pushes that thought because that is way too much Eddie Munson, down boy.
“Sorry, yeah it’s the red one with the black stickers by my mat,” he finally manages to eak out, getting his head on as straight as it ever will be.
He watches as Steve’s brow evens out a little. The other man gets up to go back into the classroom, giving Eddie’s shoulder a firm but gentle pat on his shoulder as he goes. His palms are warm and wide, and Eddie immediately wants to lean into it.
Steve comes back less than a minute later with an already uncrewed water bottle in his hands. Something about the action makes Eddie’s heart tingle.
Instead of giving Eddie a goddamn second to gather his bearings, Steve crouches down in front of Eddie and leans into his space, passing his water bottle with deliberate movements like he’s worried Eddie will drop it.
Oh god.
He’s so close Eddie can smell him. A little sweat mixed with some kind of woodsy cologne that creates a delectably manly scent floods his senses as he watches Eddie drink with a discerning eye, making sure Eddie is ok after his little tumble. If he faceplants into this guy’s chest, can he blame it on a concussion? He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a concussion but he’ll bang his head into the wall right now if it means he can stick his face in that chest hair.
Eddie watches, as if in a dream, as Steve’s hand comes up, oh so gently to his face. Eddie thinks for a wild, blinding moment that Steve is going in for a kiss. Instead, his thumb, slightly try and perfectly formed, brushes his bangs gently to the side to rub at the spot where Eddie landed not ten minutes ago. He prods it slightly, asking Eddie how he’d rate the pain on a scale of one through ten.
Steve walks him through a few questions that Eddie, somehow, manages to answer. He follows Steve’s finger when he asks and recalls the date and the president and all that jazz before Steve gives him the all clear, telling him to seek out a real professional if he starts feeling dizzy or like he can’t remember things.
At the end, Steve, because he hates Eddie, brushes his bangs back one more time to take another look.
“It’s still looking pretty red, might want to ice it when you get back home. It will probably bruise though,” Steve says with a sympathetic wince.
“Yep, yeah, sure. Will do, boss!” Eddie replies because he is the image of cool and collected.
Eddie is sure he’s imagining it, wishful thinking taking hold of him as it is wont to do, but he swears Steve lingers. Can almost feel the tips of his fingers trailing feather-soft down his temples.
He’s ready to let it go and move on. Thank Steve profusely and go back in to grab his mat and call it a day early. Any more Steve ogling time will surely just land him in more trouble, which can be put off for next week's session, when Steve says the damndest thing.
“You got nice eyes, man.” He says it so bluntly, without any preamble, that Eddie is pretty sure he hallucinated it for a second. Maybe there was something to be said about that concussion.
Except it wasn’t an auditory hallucination, and he watches as his momentary silence causes Steve to wince, registering what he just said.
He gives a little chuckle and rubs his neck in a way Eddie finds endearing. “Sorry, that sounded weird. I just couldn’t help but notice, I’m sure you get it all the time. Feel free to ignore that,” he says, gesturing vaguely.
Eddie most certainly does not hear that all the time. He’s maybe heard it one or twice in his lifetime from someone who wasn’t his mom, so hearing it from the object of his affections makes him feel like he’s on high. Like he just rolled a nat 20 in the final battle or found a vintage Dio album at the thrift store.
He can’t help the way he twirls a piece of hair in front oh his face, utterly flattered. “Careful big boy, flattery will get you everywhere with me,” he says. Eddie Munson might not be considered brave, but he knows how to take an opportunity when one presents itself, and this is the chance of a lifetime.
Steve looks shocked for a moment, honey eyes going wide and posture straightening like a meerkat. Eddie only has a second to panic about this being the wrong move before Steve mellows out. A sly, dare he say flirtatious, smirk dances across those perfect lips and he leans back in just a little bit.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says before backing up completely. He offers him a hand up and opens the door for him back into the now adjourning classroom, waving his hands in a sweet little wave as he collects his things and heads out. Eddie returns it, wiggling his fingers in a mirror of Steve’s actions as he watches him head out the door.
“So, you’re enjoying the class, I take it?” Chrissy says from his side, popping up like the little demon she is, but Eddie can’t even begin to be irritated at her, not today.
“You've got no idea, Chris.” He says, watching as the door swings shut behind Steve.
I haven't forgotten about the Summers Legacy. I'm just going through stuff, in real life. They will always be important to me, and I hope will you still remember them too. 😳😅
