No one leaves for good

“Hey! What about me?” Lucas pouts.

“I’m literally her boyfriend,” Mike says from where he’s sitting on the recliner opposite Eddie, taking a break from their discussion about the latest campaign to scold his best friends.

“Tough shit. Still her favorite.”

El looks at Mike, then at Lucas, at Dustin, considering, and back to Mike. “Dustin’s my favorite,” she confirms.

“That’s messed up,” Lucas mutters, accepting Max’s consoling pat on his arm.

“Congratulations,” Steve says dryly, interrupting Dustin’s cheers of victory and Mike’s flustered protests. “Now where am I supposed to sit?”

“You can sit right here, princess.”

Eddie, comfortably sprawled in one of the recliners, pats his lap and grins smugly at Steve, like he knows his invitation won’t be accepted.

It’s been some kind of unspoken competition between the two of them lately, seeing who can get under the kids’ skin the fastest with their excessive displays of affection and pet names. It started with a co-parenting bit the kids developed several weeks back. The dipshits love to tease them, enjoy how frustrated Steve gets when they call him their mom and Eddie their dad, and the best way to get them to lay off, Steve had reasoned, was to lean into it. 

Instead of huffing or rolling his eyes the next time the kids told Eddie to “talk some sense into his wife,” Steve had said, “Eddie agrees with me. Don’t you, honey?” while unnecessarily straightening the collar of Eddie’s jacket, pressed close into his space. 

Eddie’s eyes had widened in surprise, but only briefly. Almost immediately, his hands were settled on Steve’s hips, and he was crooning something ridiculous, along the lines of, “Always, baby.” It had the kids gagging in response, making various faces and comments that all meant the same thing: they hated seeing the two of them act like this. 

Which is, of course, exactly why Steve and Eddie keep doing it.

It’s like a game of Gay Chicken, except the only people they’re trying to freak out are their obnoxious observers. 

So when Eddie offers his lap and looks at Steve like he knows he won’t do it, like this is too far outside the range of Steve’s comfort level, Steve rises to the challenge.

Like he does most things in his life, Steve doesn’t think it through very much, just shrugs and plops down in Eddie’s lap. “Thanks,” he says over his shoulder, relishing the surprised sound Eddie lets slip.

It’s more uncomfortable than he thought it would be, and he shifts around a little, fully blaming Eddie’s skinny ass legs. He’s never actually sat in someone’s lap before, though, so maybe he’s a little to blame, too. 

He always loved being the one with a lapful of the latest girl he was flirting with. He got to wrap his arms around her waist, tug her closer to his chest. It was easy to access her ear for whispered conversations and her neck for teasing kisses. And it was always nice, being that close to someone, the weight of them bearing down on him pleasant. Comforting, even.

This, though, being on the other end of it, isn’t as fun as he thought it would be. His thighs are tense, still holding himself up so he doesn’t crush Eddie beneath him, and he feels about two seconds away from toppling over. 

“You’re not gonna break me, you know.” Eddie’s voice is low, his breath hot on the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve fights like hell to suppress a shudder. He’s supposed to be the one with the upper hand in all this. “I’m stronger than I look. Relax.”

Eddie’s arm loops around his middle and pulls him in, and Steve finally lets himself melt into his hold, resting his full weight on Eddie. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and angles his body inward, keeping one leg tucked between both of Eddie’s and draping the leg closest to Eddie across Eddie’s other leg. He doesn’t resist it when Eddie grabs Steve’s outer thigh, keeping him in place. Steve would never admit it, but it’s almost…nice. Being held by Eddie like this. Possibly even better than being the one doing the holding. 

“Must you? There’s a stool, like, right next to you,” Dustin says, pointing to the stool that is, in fact, available and right next to them.

Whatever. Steve shrugs. “This is more comfortable.”

“Aww, sweetheart,” Eddie coos and taps Steve’s nose with his ringed forefinger. Steve narrows his eyes. Leave it to Eddie to keep trying to one-up him. Trying and succeeding, which is the most irritating part.

“Ew,” Max says after Lucas explains to her what they’re doing. “Can you not?”

“Seriously. We were in the middle of a conversation,” Mike adds on, eyeing Steve with disdain.

“And? I’m not stopping you.” Steve takes a bite of his pizza. Pretends like this is completely normal and not at all affecting him in any way.

He feels, more than hears, Eddie chuckling and has to bite back his own smile in response. “Continue, Wheeler,” Eddie beckons, and everyone resumes their conversations before Steve interrupted them so he could sit on Eddie’s lap.

At least, Steve thinks they do. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Eddie is unconsciously rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against Steve’s waist. It’s a little dizzying, and Steve blames his recent dry spell on his reaction to such a simple touch. To any of Eddie’s touches as of late. He’s just desperate for any kind of human contact, so it only makes sense that he’s more sensitive to it, no matter who it’s coming from. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts when El makes Dustin’s drink explode in his face. Dr. Pepper drips off his nose, and the room erupts into laughter as he lunges to wipe his face off on her sleeve despite her twisting away, squealing. 

Eddie laughs, delighted, never tired of El’s displays of her powers, and his grip on Steve tightens. When he turns to Steve with his bright eyes and dimpled cheeks, Steve is powerless to do anything but return his smile and hope it doesn’t look too dopey. 

“Hey! What about me?” Lucas pouts.

“I’m literally her boyfriend,” Mike says from where he’s sitting on the recliner opposite Eddie, taking a break from their discussion about the latest campaign to scold his best friends.

“Tough shit. Still her favorite.”

El looks at Mike, then at Lucas, at Dustin, considering, and back to Mike. “Dustin’s my favorite,” she confirms.

“That’s messed up,” Lucas mutters, accepting Max’s consoling pat on his arm.

“Congratulations,” Steve says dryly, interrupting Dustin’s cheers of victory and Mike’s flustered protests. “Now where am I supposed to sit?”

“You can sit right here, princess.”

Eddie, comfortably sprawled in one of the recliners, pats his lap and grins smugly at Steve, like he knows his invitation won’t be accepted.

It’s been some kind of unspoken competition between the two of them lately, seeing who can get under the kids’ skin the fastest with their excessive displays of affection and pet names. It started with a co-parenting bit the kids developed several weeks back. The dipshits love to tease them, enjoy how frustrated Steve gets when they call him their mom and Eddie their dad, and the best way to get them to lay off, Steve had reasoned, was to lean into it. 

Instead of huffing or rolling his eyes the next time the kids told Eddie to “talk some sense into his wife,” Steve had said, “Eddie agrees with me. Don’t you, honey?” while unnecessarily straightening the collar of Eddie’s jacket, pressed close into his space. 

Eddie’s eyes had widened in surprise, but only briefly. Almost immediately, his hands were settled on Steve’s hips, and he was crooning something ridiculous, along the lines of, “Always, baby.” It had the kids gagging in response, making various faces and comments that all meant the same thing: they hated seeing the two of them act like this. 

Which is, of course, exactly why Steve and Eddie keep doing it.

It’s like a game of Gay Chicken, except the only people they’re trying to freak out are their obnoxious observers. 

So when Eddie offers his lap and looks at Steve like he knows he won’t do it, like this is too far outside the range of Steve’s comfort level, Steve rises to the challenge.

Like he does most things in his life, Steve doesn’t think it through very much, just shrugs and plops down in Eddie’s lap. “Thanks,” he says over his shoulder, relishing the surprised sound Eddie lets slip.

It’s more uncomfortable than he thought it would be, and he shifts around a little, fully blaming Eddie’s skinny ass legs. He’s never actually sat in someone’s lap before, though, so maybe he’s a little to blame, too. 

He always loved being the one with a lapful of the latest girl he was flirting with. He got to wrap his arms around her waist, tug her closer to his chest. It was easy to access her ear for whispered conversations and her neck for teasing kisses. And it was always nice, being that close to someone, the weight of them bearing down on him pleasant. Comforting, even.

This, though, being on the other end of it, isn’t as fun as he thought it would be. His thighs are tense, still holding himself up so he doesn’t crush Eddie beneath him, and he feels about two seconds away from toppling over. 

“You’re not gonna break me, you know.” Eddie’s voice is low, his breath hot on the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve fights like hell to suppress a shudder. He’s supposed to be the one with the upper hand in all this. “I’m stronger than I look. Relax.”

Eddie’s arm loops around his middle and pulls him in, and Steve finally lets himself melt into his hold, resting his full weight on Eddie. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and angles his body inward, keeping one leg tucked between both of Eddie’s and draping the leg closest to Eddie across Eddie’s other leg. He doesn’t resist it when Eddie grabs Steve’s outer thigh, keeping him in place. Steve would never admit it, but it’s almost…nice. Being held by Eddie like this. Possibly even better than being the one doing the holding. 

“Must you? There’s a stool, like, right next to you,” Dustin says, pointing to the stool that is, in fact, available and right next to them.

Whatever. Steve shrugs. “This is more comfortable.”

“Aww, sweetheart,” Eddie coos and taps Steve’s nose with his ringed forefinger. Steve narrows his eyes. Leave it to Eddie to keep trying to one-up him. Trying and succeeding, which is the most irritating part.

“Ew,” Max says after Lucas explains to her what they’re doing. “Can you not?”

“Seriously. We were in the middle of a conversation,” Mike adds on, eyeing Steve with disdain.

“And? I’m not stopping you.” Steve takes a bite of his pizza. Pretends like this is completely normal and not at all affecting him in any way.

He feels, more than hears, Eddie chuckling and has to bite back his own smile in response. “Continue, Wheeler,” Eddie beckons, and everyone resumes their conversations before Steve interrupted them so he could sit on Eddie’s lap.

At least, Steve thinks they do. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Eddie is unconsciously rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against Steve’s waist. It’s a little dizzying, and Steve blames his recent dry spell on his reaction to such a simple touch. To any of Eddie’s touches as of late. He’s just desperate for any kind of human contact, so it only makes sense that he’s more sensitive to it, no matter who it’s coming from. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts when El makes Dustin’s drink explode in his face. Dr. Pepper drips off his nose, and the room erupts into laughter as he lunges to wipe his face off on her sleeve despite her twisting away, squealing. 

Eddie laughs, delighted, never tired of El’s displays of her powers, and his grip on Steve tightens. When he turns to Steve with his bright eyes and dimpled cheeks, Steve is powerless to do anything but return his smile and hope it doesn’t look too dopey. 

“Hey! What about me?” Lucas pouts.

“I’m literally her boyfriend,” Mike says from where he’s sitting on the recliner opposite Eddie, taking a break from their discussion about the latest campaign to scold his best friends.

“Tough shit. Still her favorite.”

El looks at Mike, then at Lucas, at Dustin, considering, and back to Mike. “Dustin’s my favorite,” she confirms.

“That’s messed up,” Lucas mutters, accepting Max’s consoling pat on his arm.

“Congratulations,” Steve says dryly, interrupting Dustin’s cheers of victory and Mike’s flustered protests. “Now where am I supposed to sit?”

“You can sit right here, princess.”

Eddie, comfortably sprawled in one of the recliners, pats his lap and grins smugly at Steve, like he knows his invitation won’t be accepted.

It’s been some kind of unspoken competition between the two of them lately, seeing who can get under the kids’ skin the fastest with their excessive displays of affection and pet names. It started with a co-parenting bit the kids developed several weeks back. The dipshits love to tease them, enjoy how frustrated Steve gets when they call him their mom and Eddie their dad, and the best way to get them to lay off, Steve had reasoned, was to lean into it. 

Instead of huffing or rolling his eyes the next time the kids told Eddie to “talk some sense into his wife,” Steve had said, “Eddie agrees with me. Don’t you, honey?” while unnecessarily straightening the collar of Eddie’s jacket, pressed close into his space. 

Eddie’s eyes had widened in surprise, but only briefly. Almost immediately, his hands were settled on Steve’s hips, and he was crooning something ridiculous, along the lines of, “Always, baby.” It had the kids gagging in response, making various faces and comments that all meant the same thing: they hated seeing the two of them act like this. 

Which is, of course, exactly why Steve and Eddie keep doing it.

It’s like a game of Gay Chicken, except the only people they’re trying to freak out are their obnoxious observers. 

So when Eddie offers his lap and looks at Steve like he knows he won’t do it, like this is too far outside the range of Steve’s comfort level, Steve rises to the challenge.

Like he does most things in his life, Steve doesn’t think it through very much, just shrugs and plops down in Eddie’s lap. “Thanks,” he says over his shoulder, relishing the surprised sound Eddie lets slip.

It’s more uncomfortable than he thought it would be, and he shifts around a little, fully blaming Eddie’s skinny ass legs. He’s never actually sat in someone’s lap before, though, so maybe he’s a little to blame, too. 

He always loved being the one with a lapful of the latest girl he was flirting with. He got to wrap his arms around her waist, tug her closer to his chest. It was easy to access her ear for whispered conversations and her neck for teasing kisses. And it was always nice, being that close to someone, the weight of them bearing down on him pleasant. Comforting, even.

This, though, being on the other end of it, isn’t as fun as he thought it would be. His thighs are tense, still holding himself up so he doesn’t crush Eddie beneath him, and he feels about two seconds away from toppling over. 

“You’re not gonna break me, you know.” Eddie’s voice is low, his breath hot on the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve fights like hell to suppress a shudder. He’s supposed to be the one with the upper hand in all this. “I’m stronger than I look. Relax.”

Eddie’s arm loops around his middle and pulls him in, and Steve finally lets himself melt into his hold, resting his full weight on Eddie. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and angles his body inward, keeping one leg tucked between both of Eddie’s and draping the leg closest to Eddie across Eddie’s other leg. He doesn’t resist it when Eddie grabs Steve’s outer thigh, keeping him in place. Steve would never admit it, but it’s almost…nice. Being held by Eddie like this. Possibly even better than being the one doing the holding. 

“Must you? There’s a stool, like, right next to you,” Dustin says, pointing to the stool that is, in fact, available and right next to them.

Whatever. Steve shrugs. “This is more comfortable.”

“Aww, sweetheart,” Eddie coos and taps Steve’s nose with his ringed forefinger. Steve narrows his eyes. Leave it to Eddie to keep trying to one-up him. Trying and succeeding, which is the most irritating part.

“Ew,” Max says after Lucas explains to her what they’re doing. “Can you not?”

“Seriously. We were in the middle of a conversation,” Mike adds on, eyeing Steve with disdain.

“And? I’m not stopping you.” Steve takes a bite of his pizza. Pretends like this is completely normal and not at all affecting him in any way.

He feels, more than hears, Eddie chuckling and has to bite back his own smile in response. “Continue, Wheeler,” Eddie beckons, and everyone resumes their conversations before Steve interrupted them so he could sit on Eddie’s lap.

At least, Steve thinks they do. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Eddie is unconsciously rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against Steve’s waist. It’s a little dizzying, and Steve blames his recent dry spell on his reaction to such a simple touch. To any of Eddie’s touches as of late. He’s just desperate for any kind of human contact, so it only makes sense that he’s more sensitive to it, no matter who it’s coming from. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts when El makes Dustin’s drink explode in his face. Dr. Pepper drips off his nose, and the room erupts into laughter as he lunges to wipe his face off on her sleeve despite her twisting away, squealing. 

Eddie laughs, delighted, never tired of El’s displays of her powers, and his grip on Steve tightens. When he turns to Steve with his bright eyes and dimpled cheeks, Steve is powerless to do anything but return his smile and hope it doesn’t look too dopey. 

“Hey! What about me?” Lucas pouts.

“I’m literally her boyfriend,” Mike says from where he’s sitting on the recliner opposite Eddie, taking a break from their discussion about the latest campaign to scold his best friends.

“Tough shit. Still her favorite.”

El looks at Mike, then at Lucas, at Dustin, considering, and back to Mike. “Dustin’s my favorite,” she confirms.

“That’s messed up,” Lucas mutters, accepting Max’s consoling pat on his arm.

“Congratulations,” Steve says dryly, interrupting Dustin’s cheers of victory and Mike’s flustered protests. “Now where am I supposed to sit?”

“You can sit right here, princess.”

Eddie, comfortably sprawled in one of the recliners, pats his lap and grins smugly at Steve, like he knows his invitation won’t be accepted.

It’s been some kind of unspoken competition between the two of them lately, seeing who can get under the kids’ skin the fastest with their excessive displays of affection and pet names. It started with a co-parenting bit the kids developed several weeks back. The dipshits love to tease them, enjoy how frustrated Steve gets when they call him their mom and Eddie their dad, and the best way to get them to lay off, Steve had reasoned, was to lean into it. 

Instead of huffing or rolling his eyes the next time the kids told Eddie to “talk some sense into his wife,” Steve had said, “Eddie agrees with me. Don’t you, honey?” while unnecessarily straightening the collar of Eddie’s jacket, pressed close into his space. 

Eddie’s eyes had widened in surprise, but only briefly. Almost immediately, his hands were settled on Steve’s hips, and he was crooning something ridiculous, along the lines of, “Always, baby.” It had the kids gagging in response, making various faces and comments that all meant the same thing: they hated seeing the two of them act like this. 

Which is, of course, exactly why Steve and Eddie keep doing it.

It’s like a game of Gay Chicken, except the only people they’re trying to freak out are their obnoxious observers. 

So when Eddie offers his lap and looks at Steve like he knows he won’t do it, like this is too far outside the range of Steve’s comfort level, Steve rises to the challenge.

Like he does most things in his life, Steve doesn’t think it through very much, just shrugs and plops down in Eddie’s lap. “Thanks,” he says over his shoulder, relishing the surprised sound Eddie lets slip.

It’s more uncomfortable than he thought it would be, and he shifts around a little, fully blaming Eddie’s skinny ass legs. He’s never actually sat in someone’s lap before, though, so maybe he’s a little to blame, too. 

He always loved being the one with a lapful of the latest girl he was flirting with. He got to wrap his arms around her waist, tug her closer to his chest. It was easy to access her ear for whispered conversations and her neck for teasing kisses. And it was always nice, being that close to someone, the weight of them bearing down on him pleasant. Comforting, even.

This, though, being on the other end of it, isn’t as fun as he thought it would be. His thighs are tense, still holding himself up so he doesn’t crush Eddie beneath him, and he feels about two seconds away from toppling over. 

“You’re not gonna break me, you know.” Eddie’s voice is low, his breath hot on the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve fights like hell to suppress a shudder. He’s supposed to be the one with the upper hand in all this. “I’m stronger than I look. Relax.”

Eddie’s arm loops around his middle and pulls him in, and Steve finally lets himself melt into his hold, resting his full weight on Eddie. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and angles his body inward, keeping one leg tucked between both of Eddie’s and draping the leg closest to Eddie across Eddie’s other leg. He doesn’t resist it when Eddie grabs Steve’s outer thigh, keeping him in place. Steve would never admit it, but it’s almost…nice. Being held by Eddie like this. Possibly even better than being the one doing the holding. 

“Must you? There’s a stool, like, right next to you,” Dustin says, pointing to the stool that is, in fact, available and right next to them.

Whatever. Steve shrugs. “This is more comfortable.”

“Aww, sweetheart,” Eddie coos and taps Steve’s nose with his ringed forefinger. Steve narrows his eyes. Leave it to Eddie to keep trying to one-up him. Trying and succeeding, which is the most irritating part.

“Ew,” Max says after Lucas explains to her what they’re doing. “Can you not?”

“Seriously. We were in the middle of a conversation,” Mike adds on, eyeing Steve with disdain.

“And? I’m not stopping you.” Steve takes a bite of his pizza. Pretends like this is completely normal and not at all affecting him in any way.

He feels, more than hears, Eddie chuckling and has to bite back his own smile in response. “Continue, Wheeler,” Eddie beckons, and everyone resumes their conversations before Steve interrupted them so he could sit on Eddie’s lap.

At least, Steve thinks they do. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Eddie is unconsciously rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against Steve’s waist. It’s a little dizzying, and Steve blames his recent dry spell on his reaction to such a simple touch. To any of Eddie’s touches as of late. He’s just desperate for any kind of human contact, so it only makes sense that he’s more sensitive to it, no matter who it’s coming from. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts when El makes Dustin’s drink explode in his face. Dr. Pepper drips off his nose, and the room erupts into laughter as he lunges to wipe his face off on her sleeve despite her twisting away, squealing. 

Eddie laughs, delighted, never tired of El’s displays of her powers, and his grip on Steve tightens. When he turns to Steve with his bright eyes and dimpled cheeks, Steve is powerless to do anything but return his smile and hope it doesn’t look too dopey.