long live cringe

His parents rarely hugged him, his mother once or twice when he was a kid, his father never. Tommy would nudge him sometimes with his elbow, but in a more 'bro' kind of way, never soft, never gentle. Nancy held his hand and kissed him on the cheek, but it felt forced, especially in the end, and then she stopped doing it all together and that's when he knew it was over. She broke up with him shortly after.

And Steve is fine, really, he's fine, he doesn't need to be coddled all the time, or even hugged, and besides he can kiss and have sex with any girl he wants, whenever he wants, he can touch and be touched if he wants to but it's just—different.

With Eddie.

Because Eddie is who he is, and everything he does is big and loud and dramatic, but those touches are small, and seemingly only meant for Steve and Steve alone, so gentle in nature, so natural, like he doesn't even think about it before he does it he just does.

And it drives Steve a little crazy if he's being completely honest.

He can feel the ghost of Eddie's hand on his shoulder, burning like a brand, feel every single finger on his skin, even hours after it happened. If Eddie gets up in the middle of the movie, Steve feels like he's taken off his jacket in the middle of winter, he feels cold and vulnerable, and the feeling only disappears when Eddie comes back and presses against him again. And when Eddie gently slaps him with the back of his hand, his heart flutters in his chest and he's afraid that it will sprout wings and fly away.

He tells himself it's because he's not used to being touched all the time. He and Robin are basically attached at the hip at this point, but they rarely touch or hug, because she doesn't like getting hugged, so at most he holds her hand to calm her down after a bad dream. The kids have stopped trying to get piggybacks by jumping on his back, and besides that, they've never been particularly touchy either.

Maybe Steve just misses being touched, that's all. Maybe somewhere deep, deep inside him, he craves it so much that when he finally gets it, his body doesn't know how to react to it.

Or maybe it's just Eddie.

Probably, possibly, it's most likely just Eddie.

And because Steve is who he is, he always wants more than he can have. So he does something stupid.

The next time they're watching movies in his empty house, with the kids on the floor and Eddie sitting pressed against him on the couch behind them, even though there's plenty of room, Steve makes a move.

Eddie's hand is resting on his knee, and Steve reaches over, fingers brushing against the exposed skin through the holes in Eddie's jeans, and takes his hand in his own.

It's a simple gesture, but Steve can feel his own body stiffen as his heart stops beating and that feeling, that longing, is clawing at his ribcage again, begging to be released.

He hears Eddie take a sharp but quiet breath, but doesn't look at him, can't look at him, because he's too afraid of what he might see on his face.

But then Eddie squeezes his hand and Steve dares to look up, and in the blue light from the TV he catches Eddie's big dark eyes, sees the smile wrinkles under them, the smirk on his lips, and his heart starts beating again as he smiles back.

Steve keeps holding his hand through the rest of the movie, and doesn't even follow the plot, because his whole body is one electric current, just buzzing with excitement from a single touch. Eddie's hand is smaller than his, but his grip is strong and Steve can feel the calluses on his fingers brushing against the back of his own hand. He tries to remember to breathe, to be in the moment, to enjoy it, because he's not sure how long it will last, but his mind is incapable of focusing on anything but Eddie's hand in his.

The movie ends and he's forced to let go because he has to drive the kids home. Eddie sends him a pointed look, a look that seems full of promise, of something more, and Steve feels his heart skip a beat when he meets it.