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The pool party is in full swing.
It is not a true party in the traditional King Steve sense.
Yes, there was a steady stream of screeches of delight with the improper use of his diving board and teens running around ignoring basic pool safety rules. Sure, the music was a tad bit too loud and if Steve had not grown up a Harrington, or if this party had been at anyone else’s house, he might be concerned about the cops being called with a noise complaint—but being part of the richest family in the neighborhood had far reaching privileges. And of course there were several attempts at pelting him with varying pool accessories: a volleyball, a beachball, a pool noodle, and even a fully blown up inflatable flamingo floaty.
Robin laughed too hard about that last one for Steve to not know it had been her idea.
But luckily for him, years of sports and years of the Upside Down honed his reflexes and he dodge every single time.
There was even a cooler of booze. Mainly for those that were new to their twenties and teens that were not just about to go into their sophomore year of highschool. Mike and Lucas had been the only ones that put up the biggest fight against being barred from the alcohol, arguing that “wouldn’t it be better if we drank under responsible supervision?”
Which, true.
But he was not about to be responsible for drunk barely teenagers.
So he shot back, “If your parents are okay with it, then sure.”
That had shut them up really quick.
Mike half looked like he wanted to keep arguing, or maybe even test his luck and call his house—probably hoping to get his dad on the phone—but eventually let it go and challenged Lucas to a game of chicken. Easily dragging in the other younger teens into their shenanigans.
All the kids were there—though he could not even really call them “kids” anymore. But all of them were there. Even Erica, and she had invited her friend Tina and another girl Steve never caught the name of—but both of them had been a little star-struck at being invited to a pool party with this many older teens and young adults. And if Steve had not explicitly trusted everyone at this party, he may have kept a closer eye on them.
Luckily, he did not have to.
Not on his own at least, because Nancy was there with Jonathan—not that Jonathan was much of a reliable guardian to anyone that was not Will or El. But both of them were so keenly tuned into their own siblings that it left fewer “kids” for Steve to keep a closer eye on.
And when Mike, Will, Dustin and Lucas—what Steve dubbed the “Core Four” of the Party—were not being monitored indirectly when they were in the pool, they were under the watchful eye and close orbit of Eddie and the older members of the Hellfire Club.
Even if Jonathan’s friend visiting from California—with the weird name—
What was it? Some kind of pattern?
Oh, right. Argyle.
Even if Argyle had Jonathan, Eddie and Gareth sneaking off behind Steve’s pool house to “partake in Purple Palm Tree Delight, man.” there were still so many eyes on the “kids”—watching them, making sure that they were alright.
Robin had even inadvertently dragged Vickie into watching them, gossiping about some past and recent drama involving each of the younger teens—probably a little too heavy for someone that had not directly interacted with any of them before, but Robin tended to run her mouth too much when she was nervous. And Vickie made her really nervous. Steve might have interfered had everything that she was sharing not been totally harmless—and Vickie was looking far too enthralled by Robin for Steve to justify interrupting.
Robin deserved to soak up as much of that attention as possible. But it probably would not be long before one of them confessed to the other.
So, yeah, it was not the kind of party that the Steve of the past—King Steve—would have ever imagined having at his house. Nerds and band geeks, middle schoolers and teens five years his junior, his ex-girlfriend and her current boyfriend, a pothead and a bunch of metalheads—all intermingled.
But King Steve sucked—and this Steve, just Steve, would not have it any other way.
He was surrounded by friends and family—family that he chose not only because they chose him, but because they all loved one another and watched out for each other, even when there was not much more to watch out for than for everyone to get older.
And with so many eyes on them, Steve could not help but take advantage of the situation and relax.
Really, truly, relax.
—because this was the rest of their lives.
No Vecna.
No Upside Down.
No interdimensional monsters.
No secret government labs and experiments.
No fighting for their lives.
This was it, this was their lives now.
Pool parties. DND campaigns. Concerts in dingy bars. High school. Graduation. College.
Normal, boring lives.
Steve peaked out from under his sunglasses, glancing at the sky and gaging the time to be relatively close to dinner. He stands up from a wooden pool lounger where he had the pleasure of sunbathing for the last hour or so, shirtless and in moderately longer trunks than he would normally wear, but there were “kids” present so he had refrained from going all out George Michael on the beach in Club Tropicana. Despite his adjustments, he was sun warmed and pleasantly drowsy, the kind of gentle tiredness that was brought on by an earlier dip in the pool, sunshine, and good company.
He took a moment to stretch lazily, enjoying the release of some slight tightness in his shoulders and back for being stagnant a little too long. With a quiet pleased groan, he let his arms drop to his side and he began to make his way back into the house, waving off Robin and Nancy’s curious gazes as he passed them.
It was getting close to dinner, probably an appropriate time to start bribing everyone out of the pool and into the house with food. Especially before the heat from the sun began to die down and leave the chill of a Hawkins night upon them. He also knows that Will and El had both brought movies for the group to enjoy—and maybe pizza would be a good enough excuse for everyone to move inside for the evening?
From the way that Steve had previously heard Argyle talk about pizza, the former jock knew there was no way that any local pizza joints in small town Hawkins were going to impress the Californian. But it was the only way that he could feed so many people so easily. So pizza it is. He could probably splurge a little bit and order from Vinnie’s on the upper west side than from Pizza Plaza, even though it is closer. Vinnie’s had family sized pasta trays too.
Steve pulls out Vinnie’s menu from the drawer he has specified for takeout menus and really only used when he had company because he actually likes to cook for himself, despite what everyone seems to think about his homebody skills. Robin is still not totally convinced that the leftovers that she finds in his fridge are not from some secret housekeeper he has or from Mrs. Henderson or Mrs. Byers. He has tried to correct her before, but now it is more fun for him to mess with Robin and play along with her ridiculous presumptions.
He is already half way done with placing his order with, go figure, Vinnie himself (which he was kind of used to speaking with store owners directly anytime he called somewhere and his last name is mentioned)—when he spies someone leaning up against the counter out the corner of his eye. Steve lazily glances over, still kind of sun drugged, and is surprised to find Eddie, smirking at him with the metalhead’s arms casually crossed over his chest.
The metalhead had forgone his usual attire, having gone for much more fitting clothing for a day to be spent out in the sun, poolside. He still wore a band shirt, white with a name across the front that was written in a way Steve could not read. Though, honestly, it could be argued it barely passed for a shirt in the first place, not with the way Eddie had cut the sleeves off and ripped the arm holes so large his scarred sides and the band of his black swimming trunks were visible.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said absently, as he confirmed removing the red onion from the large House Special pizza he just placed. “It’s an allergy, so can we make sure it’s made separate?”
“Of course, of course!” Vinnie responded back, easily and happily.
Considering this was seven large pizzas plus a family sized pasta tray and bread rolls, quite a large order for any place in Hawkins, it was really no wonder the man was so happy.
“And then I’ll need a large Vinnie’s Veggie—”
“No olives,” Eddie half whispers at him.
“No olives, please,” Steve repeats.
“Extra cheese,” Eddie also adds.
“And extra cheese on that, as well,” Steve says, glancing away from the metalhead and back down at the menu he has laid out on the counter, alongside a napkin that he had been making notes on. “Lastly, a large cheese pizza, then a family tray of alfredo pasta and two family orders of bread rolls.”
“Lots and lots of food,” Vinnie commented, laughing. “Having parties again, Mr. Harrington?”
Steve smiled, “Just some friends and a bunch of ravenous teenagers.”
“Yes, yes, big appetites!” Vinnie went on to exchange a few more pleasantries with Steve after giving him the total, which he wrote down on the napkin and circled, before the pizzeria owner told Steve it would be ready in about an hour.
Steve hangs up the phone with a sigh, glancing over at Eddie with a small smile. The metalhead says nothing as he continues to watch Steve, dark brown eyes following him as he pulls out a stack of napkins and paper plates he has solely for when the “kids” visit and stay for a meal of some sort. It saves him a lot of time on cleaning up after them if he does not have to worry about dishes. Those same eyes keep watching as he pulls out two pitchers from the fridge and sets them on the counter next to the paper plates, lemonade and fruit punch; because Mike hates lemons and bitches anytime that it is the only thing to drink at Steve’s house because it is the former jock’s favorite.
“You're such a mom to those kids, it's kinda ridiculous,” Eddie says, breaking his silence, his tone light and teasing.
Steve spares the metalhead a glance, the slightly narrowed kind that shows his disapproval but in the way that Eddie would not take seriously. Though the way that Eddie’s eyes sparkle with a laugh makes Steve doubt that he would even be taken seriously even if he was actually upset with the metalhead—Eddie also had this thing about him that made it hard to actually be mad at him.
Besides, Steve was sure the slight blush that was working its way over his cheeks was ruining any chance of his ire being taken earnestly anyway. He could not even blame it on the lingering heat from the sun, he had been in the cool air of his conditioned house for too long.
“I'm not a mom,” Steve retorted quietly with a huff, glancing at the metalhead through his lashes, “if anything I'm their annoying, overbearing, older brother they barely tolerate.”
Eddie took a step forward, his gaze was becoming increasingly intense, a quality to it familiar and foreign to Steve all at once. “Nah. Totally a mom,” he said with a grin. “Grade A MILF. And they love you for it.”
Steve sputtered, what little flesh of his cheeks that had been spared from his blush seconds before flared with heat as he felt his entire face, down his neck and across his bare chest turned bright red, “Jesus fuck, Munson.”
Unfortunately, Steve was unable to pull his eyes away from the metalhead and he watched as pure delight lit up Eddie’s whole being as he took in and seemed to consume Steve embarrassment as nourishment. Feeding him further into the words that Steve knew that would fuel Eddie’s continued teasing.
Both Robin and Eddie took great pleasure in the barbs they directed at Steve, but the metalhead had a certain knack for absolutely destroying any barriers the former King of Hawkins High had built up during his reign.
“He'll have to wait his fucking turn,” Eddie said, his grin absolutely devious, “this Jew is first, second and third in line.”
And then Eddie would do things like that—shock factor or not, Steve still had no defense when it came to the metalhead fake flirting with him.
The very first time had been an accident and after he said it Steve swears, to this day, that Eddie half looked like he was going to run away and half like he was ready to throw up his arms to fight Steve—at least until he noticed the former jock's flushed face. Steve had not known how to respond to it—he still kind of felt that way—so he had just brushed it off. But apparently that had been an encouragement to Eddie, because he slowly started to do it more and more. Flirting and teasing Steve so that he was a blushing mess until he finally called “uncle”.
It was not as if Steve was not familiar with being flirted with, in fact he usually gave as good as he got—but that was with women.
Up until Eddie had fake waxed poetry about his hazel eyes, Steve had never been flirted with by a guy. Given where they lived, it was kind of dangerous to do so, even if it was joking. Maybe in a more progressive state or even in the future, it might be more commonplace for guys to flirt casually with other guys as a joke.
But then again, Eddie was not really one to conform just because society said so.
And really—who was it hurting?
Eddie got a laugh out of it and Steve got to feel a little better about himself that his friend thought he had so many attractive qualities.
Steve groaned, covering his heated face, “Dude, cut it out.”
“Aw!” Eddie said with fake sympathy, the teasing lilt to his voice too evident to even pretend he felt bad for how flustered he was making Steve. “Is mommy embarrassed? I'm sorry, mommy, I promise I'll be good! I can't help that you're hot as fuck.”
“Oh my God!” Steve could not help the whine infused in his tone if he tried.
“Eddie, actually.”
A startled laugh escaped Steve before he could stop it. His face was still heated with embarrassment, but he did not think that it was going away any time soon, so he gave up on trying to hide it behind his hands. Which he knows had done nothing to shield his reddened neck and chest from Eddie’s amused gaze. He met that triumphant look on the metalhead’s face with a glare, fully aware that the effect was lost amongst the blatant flush of his skin.
“You—” he started, but his voice quickly faded, unable to articulate his frustration. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly and breathing in deep before letting it and the need to fight back go.
Eddie had seemed to find a new way to fake flirt with Steve that had left him, once again, wholly without words.
“You know what? Fucking fine, Eds,” Steve said and waved a hand, dismissively. “If I'm mommy, does that make you daddy?”
This was his “uncle” for the day, giving in to rib Eddie back, using his own joke against him. Not the first time the former jock had done it too, and it usually marked the end of the teasing because Eddie would always just smile back slightly and leave it be—as if sad his fun had ended or something. Sometimes Steve would catch Eddie looking at him, searchingly; but then would never say anything when Steve questioned it.
He turned away from the metalhead without waiting for his response, because he knew from experience that there would not be one, going back to his task of setting up stuff for the dinner that would arrive soon. He had set out plates and napkins, he still needed to grab some cups for the drinks and maybe a couple of spatulas for the pizza.
Steve had just opened up the cabinet to where he kept his mugs and glasses when he felt someone press up against his back. A very male someone flush against him from thigh to his upper back, large and strong hands easily slotting into the slightly “V” of his hips—obviously male in the very pronounced appendage that was now fit snugly against Steve’s ass.
The person behind him, who could only have been Eddie because he knows for a fact that the metalhead would not be able to keep quiet if this was anyone else treating Steve this way, leaned further into him. Eddie’s chest pressed into Steve until lips brushed softly, barely there, against the shell of his ear, breath hot against him as a deep voice whispered, “Only in the privacy of your bedroom, baby girl.”
Steve freezes, air caught in his lungs, as if the shock of Eddie’s words had actually frozen him—all of him.
—because Eddie was joking.
Right?
There is no way that Eddie just said that seriously.
Eddie has always had a certain tone to his voice when he had flirted with Steve before. There was a quality that always came across to Steve as joking, teasing —kind of in the same way that when Robin would call Steve "hot stuff" and "babe". The same way that Robin would also tease Steve—gently ribbing him.
Sure, it was never in the same way that Eddie and Robin would tease each other. That always had an undertone of disgust in it, that they would fake flirt the same way they did with Steve, but it was more like they hated the implication of what they were saying to each other—or something like that. But both of them acted differently with Steve, just like his flirting back was different with them.
But none of it was real flirting.
It was all friendly banter that meant nothing to any of them—mostly because Robin was gay and Eddie was not.
Except—this felt real.
Like, really real.
The kind of real where Steve could feel Eddie's interest in the slight chub that was pressed up against his ass. The kind of real that had Steve reanalyzing the fake flirting that Eddie had just been doing—reanalyzing all of the fake flirting that Eddie had been doing. Reanalyzing if his assumptions of Eddie not being gay were wrong.
Because—because what if none of it had been fake?
What if Eddie had actually been flirting with him the whole time?
It would explain why Eddie had been so scared the first time that he did it—he was expecting Steve to react badly. Like he was expecting Steve to beat him up or something.
And then, there are all those times that continued after that.
Had Eddie been feeling out how Steve would react if the metalhead had admitted he was gay? Or at least liked guys?
Wait, no.
Eddie could have gone about finding out how Steve would react to the metalhead admitting something like that in a completely different way if he had been concerned about how Steve would react.
Was Eddie—was he flirting with Steve because the metalhead actually liked him?
That Eddie had actually been flirting with him for real the whole time and been trying to get Steve to notice? To flirt back?
Except—Steve had flirted back. He knows. That’s how he usually got Eddie to st—
Oh. Shit.
That made so much sense now!
Eddie had not stopped flirting and teasing Steve because he had seen Steve’s own flirting and teasing as a stopping point for their banter—the metalhead had stopped because he realized that Steve had not been serious when he flirted back!
So, every time Eddie had been flirting for real with Steve, the former jock had basically brushed him off as a joke.
Damn it. He needed to apologize.
He needed to say something.
Anything.
But he had no idea what to say.
What could he say?
Nothing—there was nothing in his brain. No thoughts. No words. It was straight up empty in his head—well, maybe not so straight.
—because he was kind of into this?
Yeah, definitely into it.
He was not fully turned on, but he was unquestioningly into the way Eddie was pressed against him. The way metalhead’s hands were firm and demanding where they were gripping at his waist, right where the material of his trunks had rucked lower from when he had stretched outside earlier. Smooth and toned lines of muscle noticeable from where Eddie’s chest and stomach were flush against his back, firm in the places that Steve was used to feeling the soft, plushness of a woman, but Eddie’s solid form was no less enticing. Even the deep timber of his voice, whispering huskily into Steve’s ear had also been attractive.
But Steve must have taken too long to process his revelation and all his new feelings—because Eddie is suddenly moving back. Pulling himself away from Steve in a stumble. A rushed chatter was suddenly flooding Steve’s ears, apologies repeated overtop themselves, half sentences and quartered thoughts tumbling out of Eddie’s mouth like a wild and untamed waterfall.
Steve slowly turned, blinking blankly, still slightly in shock about it all. And as he took in Eddie and his floundering, watching as his deep, dark brown eyes widened incrementally with fear, hands sweeping out in front of himself wildly as if he could erase what happened between them with the gestures alone.
Steve knew he had to make it right—the need to sooth Eddie back into the confident man that had just had Steve pinned to his own countertop, back to the exuberant metalhead that was unabashedly afraid to be himself—Steve missed that Eddie.
But not here—not where someone could walk in at any moment.
The former jock caught one of Eddie's flailing wrists in tight grip and began to tug him away. The metalhead's protests were ignored, even as his speech only grew increasingly frantic as Steve dragged him out of the kitchen, through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall and into Steve's own bedroom. He shoved Eddie through the threshold and slammed the door behind himself, blocking any possible escape for Eddie by pressing his back against the solid wood of his bedroom door—the only exit unless Eddie felt compelled enough to jump out a second story window.
He would not need to though.
Not once he realized why Steve brought him up here.
“Steve!” Eddie said, his voice shaky and panting, probably more from panic than the one flight of stairs he had been yanked up. “Steve, please,” he begged, “I'm so sorry! I took it too far! The joke! It was a joke! I-I'll take it back—I take it back! I didn't mean—I, uh, I would never want to hurt our friendship! So, we can just forget about it, okay? You don't have to—”
“Shut up, Eddie,” Steve said, cutting him off from his blubbering. The jock looked at him, meeting those deep brown eyes and watching as the metalhead’s gaze flickered back and forth between Steve’s—probably still gaging how much trouble he had gotten himself into with the flirting he had done in the kitchen. “Fuck, you can't just do that.”
Eddie nodded, eagerly, his gaze and shoulders looking less tense as he began to realize that Steve was probably not going to hit him—maybe thinking that he was going to come out lucky with just a slight scolding of some sort. “I know, I know! I'm sorry! So sorry!”
“I said shut up! Let me talk!” Steve huffed, his tone firm and serious enough that Eddie’s teeth clicked together as he snapped his mouth shut and his body stiffened back up where he stood, his feet still planted where Steve had shoved him, not backing away or trying to pace like the metalhead would sometimes do when he was distressed and nervous. “You can't do stuff like that, Eddie,” Steve went on, his tone serious but lilting up at the metalhead’s name, teasingly, ”the kids could have walked in on us at any moment.”
Eddie blinked, obviously perplexed, “What?”
“How,” Steve started, staring up at Eddie through his lashes, leaning back against the door more casually than the moment before when he had been more determined on body blocking Eddie from leaving if the metalhead tried to rush him. Steve ‘tsked’, “are we supposed to explain something like that to them?”
“The birds and the birds talk?”
“Eddie,” he said disapprovingly, shaking his head slightly but still keeping the metalhead’s gaze. “This isn't the time to joke around. This is serious.” It was serious, and he was trying his hardest to impress that into his tone, but the longer he looked at Eddie, watched as the other young man slowly began to pick up on the completely different tone and situation than what the metalhead had originally thought this was going to be when Steve had dragged him forcibly upstairs. “You can't just talk and—and act like that whenever you want. There's a time and a place! And certainly not when Dustin or, God forbid, El could walk in on us.”
“So—” Eddie started, slowly, working his mouth in a way that Steve thought he was practicing the words before he said them but the metalhead was not actually mouthing them completely, almost as if he was even afraid to even practice, let alone say them.
Steve just continued to look at him, keeping those deep chocolate eyes in a tight hold through his lashes until Eddie got the nerve to continue.
“You're not mad about what I did,” he said, clarifying, “but that I did it too openly? That we could have been caught?”
“By the kids, Eddie!” Steve pressed. “We need to set boundaries for that kind of thing!”
Eddie blinked again, still slightly working through his confusion, “Boundaries—about—?”
“Time, place, situation! Take your pick!” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes before he went on. “I mean,” Steve paused, his tone breathy as he leaned his head up, the back of his skull lightly thumping against the wood of his bedroom door. But his eyes never left Eddie’s, he watched as the other man continued to slightly struggle with Steve’s true meaning. The next words tumbled out almost a little too quickly, a little too eager, but Steve was already laying himself bare to Eddie, so what if he came across a little wanton too, “wouldn't you agree, daddy?”
Eddie’s mouth dropped open, dumbfounded. His eyes had popped open, wide and disbelieving as he took in more of Steve, taking in the way the former jock was leaning, putting himself on display before the metalhead— for him. Words came tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, faster than when Eddie had been floundering for an apology downstairs, “Holy fuck, of course, princess! Whatever you want. Whenever you want. However you want! No arguments from me. Not a damn one.”
Eddie looked inquisitively at the space between them before glancing back up into Steve’s eyes.
The meaning of the look—the question—too obvious. Steve nodded his consent.
—and Eddie was on him. Strong hands pressing him more firmly back into the door, lips catching the moan that the metalhead drew out as his body crashed into Steve’s. Eddie’s lips were hot and wet as they slid against Steve’s in all the right ways, even as a tongue joined his own in his mouth a little sooner than he had been expecting—it was all good. It felt good—felt amazing, really. Better than he remembered—and sure, his last relationship had been a long time ago, but this felt way better than any that sprung to mind.
Definitely on par with Nancy—maybe even better.
He certainly had never been on the other side of someone else being the more dominant one—the novelty of it was that much more provocative.
One of Eddie’s knees slid between his own and the metalhead leaned in closer, his hip putting pressure against the chub that was rearing its head unlike when Steve had been downstairs in the kitchen—but, oh, that felt so much better. Fingers gripped tightly at pool water frizzed hair, Steve widening his own stance, allowing Eddie to come in closer as he pushed one of his own knees forward and mirrored Eddie’s so that they could more firmly thrust their matching desires against each other’s hips.
It was messy—the angle kind of awkward—on top of the fact that Steve had never dry humped with another guy before. The sensation may have been new, but fuck all if it did not feel just as good as any other experience he had.
—and, fuck, it was Eddie.
A slight stutter in his hips at the realization caused their grinding to—ironically—become more in sync. Eddie caught Steve’s gasp of pleased surprise, practically licking up the sound the way the metalhead seemed to want to lick every inch of his mouth, taste everything that there was to taste.
Eddie’s calloused fingers slid up and down Steve’s naked torso, working closer and closer to the elastic band of his swim trunks—the metalhead swallowed another aroused sound that escaped Steve’s throat—
Then there was a knock on the door behind Steve. Tentative and light. Inquisitive as it was soft.
Both of them stopped, frozen. Pulling their lipped apart as they quieted the panting by breathing through their noses.
“Steve?”
Shit—and here I had been joking about being caught by El.
Steve purses out a calming breath, the air reverberating back slightly from how closely Eddie was still pressed against him. He swallows quickly, hoping his voice did not sound too wrecked as he responded to the teen on the other side of his bedroom door, “Y-yeah, El? What’s up?”
There was a moment of silence that had Steve questioning if his voice sounded too weird to the newest Byers family addition—she was sometimes too perceptive for her own good and he really did not need this to be one of those moments.
“Lucas pushed Max into the pool and she scraped her ankle,” El finally said, if she noticed anything off with Steve she was pushing it aside for her concern for her friend. “She says she is fine, but it is bleeding. Do you have a band-aid?”
Steve closed his eyes and blew out another breath, more exasperated than the one before and whispered, more to himself, “Of course.” He looked at Eddie, where he still stood a little too close, but Steve was not complaining—even if the smirk of his lips was a little annoying. Steve straightened up, preparing to make himself to look more presentable once he left the privacy of his own room. “Yeah, El. I’ll grab the first aid kit and be right out.”
The smirk on Eddie’s face only grew as they both listened as El departed, taking those seconds to step apart and begin the process of willing away the erections tenting obviously through the flimsy material of their trunks.
“Damn,” the metalhead snickered, “interrupted by one of your Gremlins. Better go take care of your kids, mommy .”
Steve glared at Eddie, poking a finger into the firm muscle of his chest, “You’re on thin ice, daddy. ” The former jock ignored the delight that lit up in Eddie’s deep brown eyes, instead focusing back on thinking of the typical revolving images of disgusting things to make his hard on die down. It took several minutes, because his mind kept circling back around to the fact that Eddie was standing right there, lips kissed nearly maroon, eyes repeatedly taking the opportunity to sweep over Steve’s form—taking in his fresh suntanned skin and how little his trunks actually covered, despite these being longer than his regular ones.
Moisture seemed to evaporate from his throat, taking Steve several swallows before he worked out the words he was suddenly nervous to say aloud—because what if this was a one off? What if Eddie had been flirting but he was not looking for anything serious with Steve? “S-stay after everyone has gone home, okay?”
Eddie blinked at him, obviously picking up on Steve’s nervousness.
Not that he is sure he had much to worry about when Eddie leaned forward and pressed a softer, gentler kiss to Steve’s mouth. Careful and sweet—and blatantly meaning more than just some random one and done.
The metalhead leaned back slowly, savoring the air between them before he spoke, tone a little too serious to be anything but teasing as he swept down into an exaggerated bow, “Whatever mommy wants, mommy gets.”
Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie’s antics. “Seriously, Munson, shut up,” he quipped, opening his bedroom door and stepping back out into the hallway and on his way to save the day from bleeding scrapes—and a probably pissed off redhead.
Oh, yeah—and paying for the pizza, whenever that arrived.
Okay, maybe Eddie was a little right in the fact that he was kind of a mom.
At least he was a hot one.