Ohne Musik wäre das Leben ein Irrtum (F.N.)

"No, really," Steve insists, hazel eyes earnest and staring up at Eddie. "You keep telling me that I'm worth more--"

"More than a bastard that fucks everthing that walks and then comes begging back to you? Yeah, sure. I have some standards."

Steve scowls up at him, eyes squinted, "I have standards."

Eddie stares right back, unwilling to back down, "Sure you do, sweetheart." He sinks enough scorn into the last word to push Steve away but Steve continues to squint back. He stares at Eddie with such unwavering certitude that it's Eddie who wavers.

"Robin told me something," Steve says calmly. Head still in Eddie's goddamn lap.

Eddie hums, looking away from the intent gaze. Ignoring it. Ignoring every moment he thought was more over the past six years.

"She told me that I'm not imagining things. That I'm not stupid--"

Eddie interrupts, exasperated after all this time that Steve still thinks so low of himself, "Of course you're not stupid. You have to stop listening to Tommy - he's full of shit and talks you down so that he's bigger. But you're bigger, Steve. You're a whole shitting statue looming above the teeny tiny human he pretends that he is. Just forget him for Christ's sake."

"Not that you will," Eddie mutters even as he's annoyed that he had spoken so candidly.

"So you're saying that I should trust my instincts?" Steve asks, eyes burning and frame oddly taut against Eddie's legs. The television flickers in the background, casting blue shadows against the planes of Steve's face and all Eddie can hopelessly think is how desperately he wants to lick the sharp lines of it.

Before he can sink into the moroseness of it all, Steve scrambles up and Eddie grunts at the unexpected force as elbows poke at sensitive parts only for Steve's sweet, sincere face to be hovering over his.

Eddie stares up, lacking understanding and any idea of what to do next. The beautiful eyes staring back down at him are captivating, the pretty marks against the canvas of his skin enthralling and, in that very moment, Eddie's head is so blank that he can't be counted on to make a decision or recall one past decisive thought.

"Kiss me," Steve demands and an arrow pierces Eddie's chest so cleanly that he thinks he'll never breathe easily again.

"What?" he wheezes, but Steve simply nods resolutely.

"Kiss me if you feel anything for me."

Steve's jaw is clenched, Eddie can see, in the way he does when vulnerable and sad. It makes something in Eddie's gut tighten in sympathy. Because all he has wanted for years is for Steve to kiss him. To want to kiss him. But here Steve is, looking for all the world like he expects Eddie to push him away.

He'd never.

Palm raising shakily, Eddie cups Steve's jaw, bringing their lips together in a union that is soft and unsure.

Just as shakily, Steve exhales, brow furrowed and lips pursing in distress. "That's it?" he sighs heavily, sadly. Looking away and nodding to himself as if he understands a terrible truth, "I get it. And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have forced you to--"

Consumed by a sudden fierceness, Eddie surges forward, taking Steve's beautiful face in his hands and his lips in a passionate fusion. Their lips merge in a slick embrace while breaths combine, becoming one.

Drawing back with a wet schlick, a translucent ribbon connects their mouths before snapping away. Steve looks as dazed as Eddie, the both of them reminiscent of cartoon characters whacked over the head with rolling pins.

"I should..." Steve stutters.

The whole of Eddie's body softens, sure in that this is the moment. This is his moment and it's Steve's too. It's their moment to make a future worthwhile.

"You should tell Tommy to fuck off," Eddie says, hoping against all hope that Steve will meet him beat for beat.

Steve licks his lips, a smirk spreading across his delectable face, "Because you feel something for me."