Eddie's been flirting with Steve for so many months that he sometimes forgets why he started. It couldnt have just been about that little furrowed spot between his eyebrows, or the exasperated half laugh he often let's out before he can reign it in. There has to have been a better reason. But, on moments like today, where Steve is easy and calm, langurous at the bar, he honestly doesn't remember. Which is his own fault. He probably should have been more on guard.
"Can you grab another beer for my boyfriend too, please?"
And Eddie can't have heard that right. "Wait. S'cuse me?"
"What? Oh. Sorry. Partner?...lover? I guess we can decide on titles later."
"You could have just asked me to stop tessing you, man. No need to be a dick."
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I should have asked what you wanted to be called."
"What are you fucking talking about, Harrington?
"You know. Labels. Now that we're dating. It's all good, I'm not attached to a specific word."
Eddie's mouth blurts, "We're dating?" without permission.
Steve looks at him like he's lost his mind. "What are you talking about, Munson? We've been out like fifteen times! Or. Sorry, is this some sort of plot for me to like...ask you? I just assumed because you kept coming out with...wait, I'm seeing where I went wrong here. Sorry. I guess we should have talked."
"Talk about what! What dates??"
He doesn't mean to yell, but he's spinning on error codes now and he needs the joke to end. And soon.
"What do you mean? We went to the movies on the weekend! We've driven to Indie for comic books twice. We went to the baseball game just last week."
"Steve you're just listing times we've been alone! We're alone all the time. The kids are busy. We went grocery shopping yesterday."
He shrugged, shaking his head at the apparently obvious. "Yeah. I know? That was a great date."
Eddie can't breathe. He's afraid to let the feeling in. But he's betrayed, as always, by his own goddammed mouth. "You've never even like...kissed me. Or. Anything. Do you even like me?"
And. Oh. No. Now Steve looks actually hurt. He wants to backpeddle.
"I thought you just wanted to take things slow. I hug you all the time."
"I do not—Well. Okay. Um. Yeah. Maybe I do. But like! Not like I hug you. Plus, I compliment you lots!"
"You say shit like 'nice shirt' and 'hey. Curly hair'."
Steve sounds desperate now and he's moving in, leaning close in the dim light, apparently eyeing Eddie for a head injury or something.
"Am I dead? Did I...I died, right? What is happening right now—What are you doing!"
"Oh. I'm gonna kiss you."
"Why not!" Steve throws his hands up and steps in again. Exasperated but way too close for it.
"I'm like...ah. You've got me all...I'm...I ate pickles!"
"Jesus. My. Christ, Harrington. I only found out we were dating like five seconds ago. Give a guy a moment."
And Steve's face finally breaks open. Eddie waits for the punchline to slap him in ghe face. Waits for the 'gotcha' and the lecture about toying with people's emotions. But instead, Steve steps the last step forward and winds Eddie's hair around his hand, pulls gently.
"Nah," he whispers, leaning in. "You can have a moment after you start believing me. After I kiss you. Cuz, yeah. I like you, you idiot. Now tell the nice bartender you're my boyfriend so we can find a dark booth to make out in."
He kisses Eddie, sure and quick. It's not much of a first kiss, but he's honestly grateful. He's already running out of the oxygen necessary for the continued use of his lungs.
"I'm the boyfriend," he squeaks at the bar, grabbing both bottles with one hand, and Steve's arm with the other, before marching away.
"Tab," his apparent boyfriend shouts back.
