Because I Don't Spend Enough Time on the Internet

You Have One (1) New Message From: Sirius Black

Remus nearly choked on half a sandwich as he snatched his phone off the desk with a glance to make sure the door was closed. Despite his best efforts, it was scientifically impossible for him to keep down a blush when Sirius was involved. The last thing he needed was someone wandering in while he was at his most embarrassing.

Are Pots’ pads in the storage closet?

And then, two seconds later:

Good morning : )

Remus ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. He received a dozen similar messages from the team every day, but there was something about Sirius that made his heart skip a beat after even the simplest question. Maybe it was because he could hear Sirius’ voice even through the screen, his accent curling around each word. Maybe it was because he could see that shy smile in the emojis that always, always accompanied a text from the captain. Maybe it was because Sirius was the one person he wanted to kiss until they were both blue in the face.

New Message To: Sirius Black

No, Pots’ pads are drying in the ice room.

And then, after two seconds of thought:

Morning : )

“Pull it together,” Remus muttered to himself as his stomach flipflopped. He checked the time, cursed, and set his phone facedown on the desk. Less than ten minutes of his lunch break remained—he would be lucky to get five with the team’s track record of terrible timing.

Sirius was laughably out of his league, famous, and straight. Remus’ poor, romantic little heart didn’t seem to get that memo. It was kind of mortifying, actually—he was afraid he’d start doodling their initials in tiny hearts on the corner of his notes like a fucking middle schooler soon.

Remus groaned under his breath at the thought and let his forehead thud against the top of his desk. Feelings were a nightmare. Curling up under his desk like an elderly fox dying in the woods was sounding better with every passing moment.

“Fuck.” He checked the clock again—six minutes until the end of his lunch, eleven until Kasey’s appointment. He cast one more baleful glance to his sandwich before sliding it back into his lunch bag and dragging himself upright.

--

“I almost have it, stop twitching!”

“Well, maybe if you moved your ass—”

“Hey, guys, I—oh.”

Sirius froze and felt James do the same.

“Should I…” Remus trailed off, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Should I come back, or…?”

“No, no, you’re good,” James assured him. His weight rocked back and Sirius gritted his teeth as a heel dug into his shoulder. Of all the humiliating positions to be found in, Remus had to walk in when he was playing the illustrious role of human stepstool. Fantastic.

He tried to fight his blush when Remus looked down at him, a laugh ticking at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you were looking for pads?”

“We are.” Sirius bit back a groan when James’ foot found a bruise from the last game. “Couldn’t find them.”

“Yeah, no, I got your text. But why are you looking up there?”

“We checked everywhere else.”

“Why would I put your pads in a place I can’t reach?”

A beat of silence passed. “I guess we didn’t think of that,” James mused before stepping back onto the floor with one last dig of his bony heel into the small of Sirius’ back.

“Ow—”

“Don’t be a baby.”

Sirius got to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster and dusted himself off, offering a strained smile to Remus. He was in his usual (adorable) uniform of khakis and a polo—blue today, softening the pale gold of his skin—and waited patiently for them to finish in the doorway to the ice baths. “We checked in the storage closet,” Sirius explained. “For the pads. They weren’t there.”

Obviously, or else he wouldn’t have found you two doing a Dumb and Dumber skit. Remus, to his credit, seemed rather unfazed as he turned to James. “Did you check the towel drying racks?”

“The what?”

“How are you alive?”

“Stubbornness and healthy living,” James said brightly.

Remus just shook his head with a grin, his soft curls falling over his forehead. Sirius wanted to squeeze him. “I don’t get paid enough for this. C’mon.”

Sirius trailed after him without hesitation, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Remus’ left ear. Not his (strong, lean) shoulders or his (perfect for holding) waist or his (god bless the inventor of khakis) rear end. Left ear. The left ear was safe, bland, and—and—

And there was a small freckle near the tip that Sirius wanted to kiss. And the short-cropped sides of Remus’ hair just brushed it like a halo. And, and, and, because Remus Lupin could never be just one thing. There was too much good about him. Sirius had known it from the moment he realized he’d do anything for a single smile from those lips.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?”

He startled, glancing down at James. “Why?”

James shrugged. “I dunno, you seem distracted.”

“Maybe you should be more entertaining.”

That got him a grin and an elbow to the ribs; Sirius smiled, ducking his head with it. James was like that, too—so much good condensed into a best-friend-sized package. God, he could hear the ‘package’ jokes James would make if he ever said that aloud. From anyone else, it would have been irritating.

Remus paused by the door with a flourish of his hand. “Ta-da! Pads drying on a drying rack. Who would have thought?”

Sirius’ cheeks heated as James let out a bark of laughter. Embarrassment never seemed to affect James, unless it came from Lily. He watched as James slung an arm around Remus and planted a wet kiss to his cheek, and tried not to acknowledge the hot spark of want in his belly. Remus was nice. Remus wouldn’t think anything of it if Sirius did the same. The problem was, Sirius wasn’t sure if he could stop himself once he folded.

“Next time, check your phone instead of playing ladder for Thing One, eh?” Remus teased, twisting a dry towel in his hand before patting Sirius on the chest.

Sirius choked a noise back at the last possible second.

Remus blinked. His butterscotch lashes fluttered once before his eyes settled on Sirius’, curious and deer-soft and full of the intensity, the pure focus, that Sirius admired above most other things. He had been studied his whole life and never once been seen quite like that.

Remus’ hand was still on his chest. His brow furrowed. Sirius was acutely aware that he was still holding his breath; his mouth watered at the thought of pressing a light kiss to that worried crease, the scrunch of his pointed nose, the slight downturn of his lips. The uninvited image of where else that furrow-scrunch combination might appear (on his mattress, healing hands curled in the sheets, bright in the moonlight like Remus deserved and stop it stop it stop it) sprang to mind before Sirius could divert his attention. He was morbidly grateful for his loose basketball shorts.

A light jab to the chest shocked him from his daydream. “That hurts?”

“…huh?”

Remus poked him again, dead center over his right pec. “You made a noise. What’s wrong?”

“I—um, I was—” Words. He needed words. What’s a word? “I was on bench rotation. Tired. Tired muscles. Non, nothing wrong.”

Remus snorted. “Being a baby, then, got it.”

The far door flew open and Sirius flinched, but Remus’ attention was already gone and James was shaking his skates at him like a dog’s leash. “Yo, it’s showtime, stop hogging my Loops.”

“Captain privilege, I get first dibs,” Sirius countered with a wry smile, even as something in him twitched at my Loops. Maybe it was his imagination, but Remus looked rather pleased.

“You have to stop using that excuse to get whatever you want.”

“Someday you’ll understand.”

“Hey.” Remus touched his elbow and Sirius stopped on a dime. He wound the towel around his hand once more, offering a smile that was half-concern, half-assurance. “Tell me if that muscle keeps acting up, okay? Powering through won’t help if you pulled something.”

As if Sirius would ever pass up an opportunity to talk with him. Was it unethical to fake an injury? “I will,” he promised.

“Solid.” They bumped fists and Sirius gave a dramatic shake of his hand, just to watch Remus roll his eyes. “I’ll see you at four. Remember to—”

“—ice 30 minutes before and bring Tylenol for after,” he finished, nodding along. “I got you, Loops.”

Remus’ next breath was a bit sharper than usual, smoothing on the exhale with a smile. “Yeah, I know.”

“Captain!” James hollered.

Sirius smiled through the urge to lock his best friend in a storage closet. “Four o’clock.”

Steve can feel Eddie shake his head as he paddles them towards the edge of the pool. “In your jeans?” Eddie questions but Steve doesn’t reply. He pulls himself out of the pool and lays on the concrete reaching out for another beer he knows lays nearby.

His hand is smacked out of the way, then Eddie sits next to him. “What’s going on, Steve?”

Steve looks Eddie in the eyes and instead asks, “Why are you here?”

“Well, we had Hellfire tonight and-”

“Dustin!” Steve sits up and gasps.

Eddie instantly grabs Steve by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. I gave him a ride home. Told him I would check on you.”

Steve nods. He isn’t even a good babysitter anymore. It’s stupid, but the thought pushes him over the edge. Eddie’s pulling him into his side in no time, letting Steve bury his head into his neck and wet hair. Maybe he won’t notice the tears added into the mix of pool water.

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, and pulls him in closer. “Let’s get you inside before you get hyperthermia and Dustin never forgives me.”

Steve didn’t even realize he was shaking. He guides Eddie into his house, not making eye contact with him. He hears the chatter of teeth behind him though and slowly turns, taking in the sight of Eddie with his nose red and lips blue. He’s almost forgotten that he had jumped in after him.

Steve rushes upstairs into his bathroom and turns on the water for the tub. He yanks a towel out of the closet and goes to hand it to Eddie. Instead, Eddie reaches into the closet and grabs three towels saying, “Don’t worry about me right now. Let me take care of you.”

Steve melts at the words, but he immediately wants to protest. This isn’t him. That isn’t his role. He wants to say something, but Eddie beats him to it and demands, “Take off the wet clothes.”

Steve’s eyes widen and his heart races. Eddie must notice this because he rushes to say, “Except your underwear! I’m… I’m going to as well. If that’s okay with you. Can’t exactly take a bath and avoid hypothermia with wet clothes on.”

Steve just nods because it makes sense and he’s too tired to think. He sluggishly tugs off his shirt but struggles to undo the button on his pants with shaking hands. He finds Eddie’s hands hovering above his. “May I?” Eddie asks.

Steve whispers, “Yes.”

Eddie easily pops the button off and pulls down the zipper sliding the jeans down. Steve swallows thickly. Eddie helps to remove his wet socks as well and throws the clothes into a pile. “Get in the tub please.”

Steve doesn’t protest. He climbs in noticing that Eddie must’ve turned off the water at some point. How long did it take for him to take off his sweater? He almost asks but then Eddie is shucking off his clothes ungracefully, and Steve loses all track of his thoughts.

He makes his way to the tub, awkwardly crossing his arms slightly shivering. Steve can’t decide if he’s trying to cover up, warm himself up, or both. Probably both.

Steve stands up and gestures for Eddie to climb in. He does with his eyebrows raised in confusion. “You sit first,” Steve mumbles, hoping Eddie doesn’t refuse or question him.

He doesn’t. Steve looks down at Eddie and settles between his legs, pressing his back against his cool bare chest. Eddie doesn’t tense up like he expects him to. Instead, he reaches out and grabs the shampoo off the ledge. Steve hears the telltale squirt of the shampoo bottle and feels Eddie massage his scalp.

He relaxes into the touch and closes his eyes. “What were you thinking about earlier?” Eddie prompts.

Steve’s too tired to fight the question. “I’m unloveable.” It’s simple. It’s fact.

Eddie’s hands pause for a few moments and then resume their motion. “And why do you think that?”

Steve sighs. “The only real girlfriend I had was Nancy, and according to her I’m just bullshit and that was all bullshit. And I can’t, for the life of me, find another girl on all these dates that I can actually connect with. And the one time I do it turns out… she’s not even interested in me. And never will be.” His head starts swimming simultaneously drowning with all his thoughts. “Plus, all these fucking kids don’t need me now that the world is saved for good. Maybe every once in a while for a ride, but I don’t know. But I can’t even remember to pick up Dustin. Robin has Nancy and doesn’t ever talk unless we’re working. So. Maybe… Maybe Vecna should’ve chosen me or something.”

Eddie’s heart thuds against Steve’s back and he can hear his breathing speed up after the admission. His soapy hands drop from Steve’s hair to his waist, thumbs making little circles near the scars from the bat bites. Eddie hesitates before dropping a quick, hard kiss on Steve’s temple. “You, Steve Harrington, are anything but unlovable.”

A tear falls slowly down Steve’s face and at first he thinks it’s Eddie’s, but as one falls on the other side, he realizes it’s his own.

“You are the most metal person I’ve ever met. With apparently the softest fucking hair.” Steve laughs at that and relishes in the feeling. Eddie continues, “And all the kids adore you. Need I remind you that Dustin worships you? Still does. In fact, tonight he spent half an hour going on about you because Will and Lucas were there to supply more things about the great Steve Harrington. And… I may have also joined in for a while.”

Steve tilts his chin up to look at Eddie, convinced that he’s joking with him, but the usual telltale smile is gone, replaced with sincere, watery eyes. Eddie stares down at him and adds on, “And Nancy adores you. Even though you and her didn’t work out, she would still die for you and nearly did. Robin is just caught up in a new relationship and will eventually come down from that high. She loves you every bit as much as she loves Nancy just not… romantically. And those failed dates well…” Eddie trails off dramatically before finishing, “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong area.”

Steve shoots him a confused look and asks, “Somewhere not in Hawkins?”

Eddie’s expression is incomprehensible. He takes a deep breath and says, “All I’m saying is, I find you pretty damn lovable.”

Steve stares at Eddie for a few minutes, letting the words sink in. Something has shifted between them, and Steve can’t understand what it is. Then, Eddie’s eyes flicker down to his lips.

Oh.

Oh.

Steve stares at Eddie and asks, “Are you saying that maybe the solution to those failed dates is right in front of me?”

Eddie freezes for a moment and replies, “Well, I would say right behind you, but depends on how figuratively or literally you’re asking.”

It’s such an Eddie thing to say, and it’s exactly what Steve needs right now. Laughter begins bubbling out of him, and he hopes Eddie doesn’t take it unkindly. But it’s so funny to Steve. Eddie was literally right in front of him the whole time.

Eddie the one who saved the world and nearly died doing it. Eddie the one who stayed by his side and went through the same process of recovery from the demobats. Eddie who is the fucking leader of the hellfire club, and still sometimes targeted in the community as a serial killer. Eddie who jumps into freezing pools and cradles Steve in the bath while listening to his darkest thoughts.

Steve laughter dies down immediately as he thinks - Eddie who is right in front of him now looking scared out of his mind, and Eddie who he needs to kiss right now.

Steve’s eyes flicker to his lips and he leans in the small distance that is separating them. He goes slowly, giving Eddie the time to lean in and meet him in the middle.

It takes a moment, but then Eddie is leaning in, too. They kiss gently, and it’s the most comforting kiss Steve has ever had in his life. He deepens it momentarily, hoping it gives Eddie the promise of more to come. As soon as he breaks away, he settles back against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s hands come up and continue running the shampoo through his hair while kissing him on the cheek every few moments, listing more and more reasons why Steve is loved.