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After everything that has been happening, Eddie is still living in a rather cramped trailer. Only difference, this one has a slightly bigger bathroom and a stove that wasn’t from the last century. They celebrate this (and keeping close to a recovering Max) with recurring movie nights and sometimes adult only dinner nights.
The kitchen is still cramped, if you want to pass from the left side of the trailer to the right, you pretty much have to be comfortable breathing down the neck of the one trying to make dinner or do the dishes. It’s usually fine, the kid crew is still on the leaner side, and Wayne usually works night shifts when it’s getting crowded, and Robin, well. She goes to any length not to touch anyone most of the time. With some exceptions that they never talk about, of course.
This night is distinctly child free, and Robin bowed out early. Something, something, what if meeting up with Nancy is actually a date?
This leaves Steve and Eddie with the dishes and a joint between the both of them. The pots from dinner are submerged in the sink, together with plates, cutlery and Robin’s whiskey glass. Steve is still sipping on his, leaning back in the ugly old armchair they rescued from a second hand store. On the opposite side, Eddie is stretched out on the built-in couch, eyes half closed as they both watch his attempts at smoke rings. It looks more like one of those cartoon trains, but it is hell of a lot better than he himself can do.
From Eddie’s room they are still listening to a new album they picked up. A band called Guns’n’Roses. It’s surprisingly catchy, and Steve finds himself nodding along, accepting the joint across the table when Eddie needs to make an air guitar solo, still on his back. It looks ridiculous, the smoke stings as he sucks it down his lungs, then blows it out in a little plume.
“So, are they better than that Ozzy-dude?” Steve asks, just because he knows it will get a rise out of Eddie, who true to form scoffs.
“Blasphemy, Stevie-o.”
“Isn’t that the entire point with him?” Steve asks, and Eddie looks up at him, clutching his heart.
“Aaw, you pay attention when I talk? You do love me!”
Steve’s heart absolutely did not skip a beat, not at all. Instead of a good reply, he chokes on his own spit and starts coughing.
“Water,” he manages, putting the joint down and hurrying to the little kitchenette, pretending not to notice the odd way Eddie is looking at him.
The cupboard is filled with an unholy amount of coffee cups. A little less than before the move, but an unusual amount compared to most households, which should be telling you something. He picks out one that has the least coffee stains, clearing his throat.
There is some light shuffling behind him, he can hear Eddie stand up and walk around.
“You good, man?” Eddie asks, and Steve nods, letting the tap run until it gets cold.
He gulps it down, but when he sets the cup back down again, Eddie is standing just behind him. Not in a way that makes Steve think he is trying to get past him, just standing… very close.
“Eddie?” he asks, voice raspy from both the drink and the smoke. Yeah, that’s totally it.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, just moving slightly closer. For someone claiming to be a coward, it’s a bold move, but Steve lets it happen. They are so close they are almost touching, and the ‘almost’ has his pulse pounding. Warm fingers brush against his wrists, and Steve feels the hair on his arm stand in attention.
He can feel Eddie’s breath against his bare neck, smell old cigarettes and sweat and some cologne that makes his mouth water in ways it really shouldn’t.
When Steve isn’t brushing him off, Eddie gets bolder, his fingers tracing down his wrist, over the back of Steve’s hand. God, Steve is tempted to lean into him, press his back against Eddie’s chest, but he doesn’t know what this is, doesn’t know… why now?
He doesn’t even register the music any more, everything narrowing down to the way Eddie’s hand feels against his. Spreading his fingers, just a little, feels like an invitation, Eddie’s nose barely brushing against his neck.
“Steve,” Eddie all but whispers, other hand brushing against Steve’s right arm, following it down, fingers curling around Steve’s hand.
It’s almost like an embrace, Eddie’s fingers lightly slipping between his.
With a subtle tilt of Steve’s head, Eddie’s nose now brushes against Steve’s ear, and he can’t help but shudder. Fuck it.
Leaning back is… not the scariest thing he’s done, not by far, but it has adrenaline spiking, his breath hitching, but his shoulder blades connect with Eddie’s chest, and he can feel him breathing. Eddie’s fingers push deeper between his, they are more or less holding hands, and as tight as his chest feels, it’s like the first deep breath he has taken in months.
Lips brush against his ears, Eddie’s hands flexes around his, and Steve tries not to implode.
“Jesus,” Steve breathes, turning his head more to the side, just to feel Eddie’s cheek against his.
“Turn around, Steve,” Eddie whispers, directly into his fucking ear.
Their fingers keep tracing against each other, his skin tingles when Eddie curls his fingers around Steve’s hand, only to let go.
Right, turning around it is.
Eddie doesn’t back up, doesn’t even lean back, and Steve has to turn on the spot, leaning against the counter top behind him. Eddie’s eyes are half lidded, lips parted, and he catches Steve’s hands again. Palm against palm, fingers curling around each other, until Eddie leans closer and Steve can’t help but put a hand to his chest.
Warm, he is so damn warm.
“What now?” Steve murmurs, playing with the curls spilling over Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s grin is soft, real, not the theatrical one he does to make others smile. No, this one is something else, something that makes Steve sway closer.
“Maybe you should kiss me, big boy,” Eddie murmurs, free hand coming up to cup Steve’s neck, thumb stroking against Steve’s jaw, rings startlingly cold against Steve’s overheated skin. Without thinking Steve obeys, almost falling into it, the kiss, what he has been chasing since… yeah.
Eddie’s lips are hot too, dry and a little chapped, his grip around the back of Steve’s neck tightening just a little.
Steve pulls back after a moment, licking his lower lip. The closeness feels fantastic, but he can’t make himself lean in again. What if Eddie got second thoughts? What if this was just a stupid mistake, to be chalked up on booze?
He needn’t have worried, because Eddie more or less hauls him in, this kiss is decidedly less chaste. Slow, intimate, a lot more so than many second kisses he has ever had.
Steve is pushed back against the counter, and he winds both arms around Eddie’s shoulders, a thigh is pushed between both of his.
It’s not as much parting but breathing, lips still inches from each other.
“Wanna stay over?” Eddie whispers and Steve can’t help but to huff a laugh.
“You think I’m leaving after this?”
They leave the pans submerged in the sink, their almost empty whiskey glasses on the table. The music is shut off, as are the lights, and they trade lazy kisses, finding ways they fit together on the tight bed. Eddie seems to like laying more or less on top of him, dozing in the crook of Steve’s neck, kissing his way back up across his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
The touch of Eddie’s tongue against his own sends electric sparks against his spine, but they are both too relaxed, too comfortable to do anything but lean into each other.
It’s warm, the thick blanket is kicked to the bottom of the bed, tangling around their feet. Eddie’s legs are pale and hairy, his stomach warm, the scars just another proof that they made it. They are here, in a way neither of them thought was ever possible.
Steve laces their hands together loosely, thumb tracing along the side of his hand, over the knuckle.
Yeah, things are still a bit fucked up. But in here, in each other’s arms, none of that can touch them. In here, Steve wonders what he was looking for, all this time, and if he just isn’t a little bit closer to finding it.
Just a little.