Feast your eyes on the beautiful art I commissioned from my wonderfully talented friend Emily for my steddie fic, the present only
Steve releases the button, but leaves his hand where it is. He runs his thumb over the skulls and cross of the ring on Eddie’s index finger. Eddie's hand trembles a little at the strain of holding the brick-sized walkie for so long. Steve adjusts his grip so he's taking more of its weight.
"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs between them. Something about their closeness, their mirrored postures hunched over the counter, has Steve almost whispering. "This is not the night I had pla-"
"I don't know, Steve, " Dustin interrupts again, judgemental tone not lost in transmission.






















