Eddie glanced over the back of the couch, to the kitchen where Steve was making a snack for Stella, which of course means that he also needs to make one for Dustin, Max, Eddie and Robin.
“Uh-huh,” Steve said, not looking up as he fought with a jar of peanut butter.
Eddie twirled the pick between his fingers, clearly thinking about something very important and very stupid.
“When we get married… who gets carried over the threshold?”
Eddie immediately sat up, pointing the guitar pick at him like a tiny weapon.
“Don’t say me just because I’m the bottom!”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
Eddie squinted suspiciously.
“I hesitated because I was trying to figure out why you’re thinking about wedding thresholds at two in the afternoon.”
Steve leaned against the counter, arms folded, sandwich temporarily forgotten.
“Okay. Logically speaking, I should carry you.”
Eddie gasped in theatrical offense.
“Because,” Steve continued patiently, “I lift more.”
Steve’s eyebrows shot up.
“You’d throw your back out and I’d die on the welcome mat.”
Steve crossed the room in three steps.
“Who do you think carries you to bed when you pass out after nights out?”
Steve let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Helpful little guys,” Eddie muttered.
Steve grabbed him around the waist before Eddie could protest.
And then Eddie was suddenly off the couch.
Guitar clattering to the floor.
Eddie stared down at him in shock.
Steve bounced him slightly just to prove a point.
Eddie’s brain visibly rebooted.
“Thought my back would explode.”
Steve carried him two steps across the room and deposited him back onto the couch like a dramatic sack of noodles.
Eddie sat there, stunned.
“…okay first of all,” Eddie said finally, pointing a finger at him, “rude.”
Steve went back to his sandwich like nothing happened.
“Second of all,” Eddie continued, “that was a cheap trick.”
Steve leaned back, smirking like a puppy with a ball.
“You’re still not carrying me over the threshold.”
Steve chewed thoughtfully.
Eddie leaned back against the couch with the smug confidence of a man about to win an argument.
“…because it’ll ruin my cool entrance.”
Eddie spread his arms dramatically.
“I kick the door open. Smoke machine. Guitar solo. Doves fly out.”
“You’re proposing we release birds in the house.”
Steve shook his head slowly.
Steve pointed the sandwich at him.
“Fine. I’ll carry you through the door.”
Eddie opened his mouth to protest again.
“…okay that actually sounds sick.”
About 10 minutes had passed, 10 suspiciously quiet minutes.
Eddie was still sitting on the couch, staring at Steve like he’d just witnessed a magic trick.
Steve was halfway through his sandwich when he noticed.
“…why are you looking at me like that?”
Eddie slowly leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“The lifting thing.” Eddie pointed at himself. “Do. It. Again.”
Steve immediately narrowed his eyes.
Eddie wiggled his fingers impatiently.
Steve pointed at him with the sandwich.
“It’s the hockey fantasy thing again, isn’t it?”
Eddie’s expression went blank with the exaggerated innocence of a man who had absolutely been caught.
“Okay first of all,” Eddie said, sitting up straighter, “rude accusation.”
“You made me reenact a romance novel cover last month.”
Eddie sighed dramatically, as if Steve was being the unreasonable one.
“Look,” he said, gesturing toward Steve’s entire existence, “if my boyfriend-!”
Corrected himself with theatrical seriousness.
“No. If my fiancé is built like a romance trope from a fanfiction-!”
Steve groaned immediately.
“I expect him,” Eddie continued, pointing at him like a prosecutor in court, “to deliver.”
Steve dragged a hand down his face.
“You’re basing our relationship expectations on fanfiction.”
“Have you seen yourself, Harrington?” Eddie said, gesturing wildly. “The hair? The arms? The whole ‘effortlessly lifting your dramatic boyfriend’ thing? You’re one leather jacket away from being tagged Protective Himbo Boyfriend.”
Steve stared at him for a long moment.
“You didn’t propose yet.”
Eddie scooted closer on the couch, grinning like a gremlin.
Steve groaned like a man who had already lost this battle.
Eddie held his arms up expectantly.
Steve muttered under his breath.
“I swear to god I’m dating a menace.”
But he walked over anyway.
“Don’t make it weird,” Steve warned.
“You know I’m gonna make it weird.”
Steve grabbed him by the waist again.
Eddie immediately went limp like a Victorian maiden.
“THE STRENGTH!! THE PASSION!!”
Eddie kicked his feet dramatically.
Steve adjusted his grip and hoisted him higher just to shut him up.
“…this is actually really hot.”
Steve dropped him back onto the couch.
Eddie bounced once on the cushions.
Eddie immediately grabbed his arm before he could escape.
Eddie looked up at him with absolute seriousness.
“For the integrity of the experiment.”
Steve rubbed his temples.
“This relationship is exhausting.”
“Yeah but you can lift me.”
Steve sighed the sigh of a man who knew his fate was sealed.
Eddie raised his arms again like a smug little gremlin.
“Romance trope boyfriend, activate.”
Steve had barely lifted him again before Eddie went completely boneless in his arms.
Just dramatically existing.
Eddie studied him like a very pleased scientist observing a successful experiment.
“Babe,” he said, impressed, “you’re like a natural at this.”
Steve adjusted his grip with the casual competence of someone who had done this about ten thousand times.
“I used to carry my teammates when they were injured,” he said. “You get good at it.”
Eddie nodded thoughtfully.
“And my mom,” Steve added, quieter but still matter-of-fact. “When she passed out drinking.”
Eddie’s grin softened a little.
Steve shrugged like it was just another Tuesday.
“And Stella wants to be picked up like… seventy percent of the time.”
Eddie’s eyes lit up again.
He leaned back in Steve’s arms, looking up at him like he’d just cracked the code to the universe.
Eddie gestured lazily at him.
Steve shifted him slightly higher on his hip.
“Stop narrating my life like it’s a book blurb.”
Eddie pointed at him triumphantly.
“I won the fanfic jackpot.”
“Stop talking or I’ll drop you on purpose.”
Steve raised one eyebrow.
His arms loosened just slightly.
Eddie grabbed onto his shoulders immediately.
“Okay okay okay!” Eddie laughed, tightening his grip around Steve’s neck. “No more commentary...”
Eddie tilted his head, studying him again.
Eddie just grinned, no remorse, no regret.
Steve sighed the sigh of a man who had accepted his fate.
Then he bounced Eddie once just to mess with him.
“Thought I might drop you.”
Steve carried him toward the hallway.
From the couch, Eddie spotted the abandoned guitar and pointed dramatically.
“You’re kidnapping a musician!”
Eddie squinted suspiciously.
“…Steve where are we going.”
Steve pushed open the bedroom door with his foot.
Steve tossed him gently onto the bed.
Eddie bounced once, then sprawled out like a very satisfied cat.
