all i want is a runnin' riot

The point is – Eddie can put on a brilliant show and make thousands upon thousands swoon for him without a second thought.

But, when it comes to Steve?

Oh, Eddie is a weak, weak man.

Steve is currently side stage, propped against the empty gear cases, legs spread wide, a mischievous smirk on his face as he watches Eddie tear up the stage. 

Steve’s style has…evolved since the band has taken off. He’s ventured off the beaten path of polos and pressed pants to something somehow sharper and softer and wholly delicious. Starched polos switched for loose button ups in a slew of colors and patterns. Worn flannels, soft as anything. Band shirts. God, when Steve wears Corroded Coffin merch, Eddie is a goner. Crop tops. Torn jeans. Makeup. Eyeliner sharp enough to slice Eddie in half.

Today, he’s out to give Eddie a goddamn heart attack. Because he isn’t wearing the same thing they’d left the hotel in. 

Oh, no. He changed.

The little minx.

Because as they left the hotel, he was in standard fare – loose jeans, Corroded Coffin tour shirt, one of Eddie’s leather jackets, and a pair of dark tinted sunglasses.

Now?

Eddie trips over his own feet, manages to make it intentional as he sways with the beat, though he knows the guys fully caught it. It takes everything in him not to throw his guitar off, dart off the stage, and have Steve fuck his throat until he’s a sobbing mess.

Steve’s in a cropped version of the Corroded Coffin tour shirt. A tight fitting pair of jeans with so many rips down the legs they may as well be nonexistent. A few of Eddie’s rings dotting his fingers. And though he’s far away, he’s sure that Steve put on eyeliner.

Jesus fucking christ.

Steve winks as he leans back, the shirt riding up his stomach, brilliant gorgeous beautiful hair lining the expanse of his stomach. 

Eddie is so fucked.

They crash into the dressing room, swollen lips slick against each other, tongues probing and licking, teeth nipping at burning skin, the sweet harmony of their bodies playing together, tuning out the rest of the world. The taste of Steve on his tongue is enough to make Eddie feel like a religious man, make him want to drop to his knees at the altar of Steve’s body to worship. The sweet spiced sweat a lighthouse to him on the rocky seas.

“Have a good show, rockstar?” Steve’s swollen lips smile wide, a sharp glint to his eyes as he pushes Eddie against the door of the makeshift dressing area.

“Fuck me, Stevie. God. Look at you.” Eddie’s panting hard, eyes wild as he rakes them over Steve’s body, a deep groan ripping from his chest.

Up close, he can see the smattering of glitter across Steve’s cheekbones. The way his eyeliner curves out, thick and sharp. The spiked earrings and chains across his ears. Eddie’s necklace, the pick resting perfectly in the hollow of his sweat-slick throat. Dark, coarse hair glistening beneath the jagged crop of his shirt. His ass hugged perfectly by these dark jeans, the rips in them letting his knees stick out and rut between Eddie’s legs. Thick, chunky platform boots that he wears to music festivals. 

Jesus christ.

If this was the last thing Eddie ever saw, he’d die a happy man. 

Steve smirks, slots his leg between Eddie’s, and pushes up hard. He leans in close and ghosts his lips across Eddie’s ear.  “Like what you see, baby?” 

“Fuck. Fuck yes.” Eddie shivers. “Fuckin’ wet dream, sweetheart. God.” 

Steve chuckles, sucks hard at the junction of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, teeth sharp against taut skin, pain shooting hot and electric through Eddie’s entire body, making him groan loud – loud enough he’s sure the techs can hear him as they pack up, but, honestly, everyone is used to this by now, giving Steve and Eddie a wide berth post-show for them to get this out of their system. It’s the whole reason Eddie gets his own room at most venues when they can swing it. They’ve scarred one too many techs, and all the members of the band multiple times, by being walked in on in various states of fucking. 

So, yeah.

Eddie gets his own room.

Which he’s so fucking thankful for right now as Steve’s hands ruck up his shirt, sweat-slick from performing all night. It’s ripped from his body in one fluid motion, thrown somewhere he doesn’t even fucking care, too focused on soft fingers trailing hot against his skin, nails dragging across the expanse of his back. 

“You’re insane out there, y’know that?” Steve’s voice is gravelly, the hitch of it making Eddie shiver head to toe. “God, drivin’ me crazy with the way you move.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie whimpers. “Like – like watchin’ me, sweetheart?”

“Y’know I do.” A growl rips from deep within Steve’s throat, teeth biting at Eddie’s neck, pain hot in his veins. “Watch you all day, baby.”

Eddie manages a smirk as he grips Steve’s waist. “Maybe I should go a bit wilder, huh?” He grinds their hips together. “Give everyone more to see.”

Steve pulls back, eyes crackling with want and possession. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Like showin’ off how fuckin’ sexy you are to your fans?”

“Maybe I do.” Eddie bites his lip. 

“Showin’ the world just how goddamn hot you are, taunting ‘em with how you move ‘cross that stage?” Steve’s fingers snake around the back of Eddie’s neck, thread through hair there, and pull hard, making Eddie whimper as his neck tilts back, eyes locked with Steve’s. “You hopin’ one of ‘em will see you? Come backstage and let you fuck their brains out? Huh?” 

Holy fucking shit. 

The moan Eddie lets out is something he’s not even sure came from his own body. A deep, rasping noise that coils around the both of them, tight and hot and possessive.

Eddie’s brain is melting, spilling out of his ears. His entire body feels like it’s on fire and Steve has barely even touched him. He loves when Steve gets like this. When he gets so obsessive, so insanely turned on, so flooded with desire and passion that he simply devours Eddie whole. 

Eddie will happily spend his entire life being devoured by Steve. 

“That’s it, huh? Hopin’ one of them will throw themselves at you? Be a nice little hole to fuck after gettin’ off stage?” Steve growls, fingers tightening in Eddie’s hair. 

Every sense of bravado Eddie may have had vanishes. His whole resolve shatters immediately. 

“Fuck. No – no, I, god, Stevie,  fuck–”

“You think any of ‘em can make you feel the way I do? Think they know just how to make you fall apart?” 

Steve’s free hand drags hot down Eddie’s back, dips beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

“No, no, ‘course not, just, oh my god, just you, sweetheart.” 

“That’s right. Just me.” Steve slides a palm over Eddie’s ass, pulls their hips flush together. 

The hard expanse of Steve’s cock presses firm to Eddie’s hip, makes him whimper and nearly fold on the spot. Wants nothing more in that moment then to sink to his knees and take Steve hot and rough in his mouth. Show Steve how good he can be, how desperate he is to feel him, taste him, have him. 

“Maybe I need to show you who you really belong to.” Steve’s fingers slip between Eddie’s cheeks, deftly probing at his wanting hole. “Seems like you need the reminder.”

Eddie nods feverishly, presses back against Steve’s hand. “Fuck. Please.” 

The chuckle Steve lets out is dark and breathy, sending a brilliant shock through Eddie’s nervous system. He arches back, grits out a moan as Steve slowly pushes his way in, already making Eddie’s vision black out at the edges.

“Stay with me, baby. I’m gonna take you apart piece by fucking piece.” Steve drags his teeth along Eddie’s throat, biting and sucking, bruises blooming beautifully while his finger slowly teases Eddie’s hole, dipping ever so slightly in and out. All of it driving Eddie absolutely fucking insane. Steve slowly probes deeper, stretching Eddie open with just the slick sweat of their bodies, the half-dry friction of it zinging beautifully through every inch of his body, making him desperate for more, desperate for Steve.

“Fuck, Stevie, please, baby. Please. I need – agh– need you.” Eddie’s legs are trembling, feels like he’s about to collapse, crumple to the floor in a sweaty, horny haze. The adrenaline from performing still coursing hot in his veins and Steve’s knee between his legs are the only things keeping him upright. 

He can see Steve’s resolve chipping away. Sees it in the way Steve’s panting, hard and loud, eyes blown dark and wild, sweat coating his neck, surely dripping down to hair hair fuck chest hair give need need oh – 

Eddie claws at Steve’s shirt, rips it off his body, and moans so goddamn loud at what lays underneath. Nearly passes out, honestly. 

Because what he sees is Steve’s beautiful, hairy chest, slick with sweat, and his perfect nipples sporting sparkling jewelry with the fucking Corroded Coffin logo god what the fuck how is he real what –

“God, Stevie. When – oh fuck – when’d you get these?” Eddie pants, heart fully frantic as his eyes greedily drink in this fucking adonis of a man in front of him.

Their hips grind together again, beautiful, aching friction, as Steve leans in, breath ghosting over Eddie’s ear, “Ordered ‘em jus’ for you, baby.”

“Shit.” Eddie grips Steve’s waist, fingernails digging into soft, tanned skin. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He leans forward, starts kissing and nibbling at Steve’s pecs. Teeth leaving a jagged trail of bruises to beautiful peaked nipples. Tongue swirling around cold metal, swallowing down the vibrations of Steve’s moans, feeling them all the way to his desperately throbbing cock, his hole clenching tight around Steve’s finger.

“Fuck yes. Such a good – agh – good boy f’me.” Steve’s fingers tighten around Eddie’s neck, pull him impossibly closer, while his other hand keeps pushing and massaging deeper, faster, harder. 

Eddie is drunk. Drunk off the taste of Steve, the sound of his hitched breaths, the feel of fingers pulling at his hair, the heat of their bodies grinding together, the feel of thick fingers dismantling him from the inside out. When he pulls back, hot and panting, a thin strip of saliva connects him to Steve’s fucking beautiful nipples.

Steve’s eyes are blown wide, pupils darkened, gaze intense and desperate, fully focused on how Eddie is moving, reacting to his touch. 

The rough drag of denim on denim shoots through Eddie’s aching dick, the pressure enough to make him shudder, make him ache and beg and clench and plead for more more please god more Stevie fuck me please–

“Fucking hell.” Steve breaks.

In one smooth movement, he sweeps Eddie up and has him bent over the table, sending half empty bottles of water and granola bars flying to the floor. Eddie’s breath catches. Arches his back. Hands scrambling to find purchase anywhere before Steve grabs his hips, fingers pressing tight and hard, locking Eddie in place. 

“Looks like I’m gonna hafta fuck you right here.” Steve leans over Eddie, teeth nipping at his ear, breath hot and panting. “Somebody just can’t wait, can he?” 

Eddie whines, incoherent babbling spilling from his lips, his hips pressing back against Steve’s, grinding against his cock, desperately pleading with every roll of his hips for more more more, his hole sorely aching in the absence of Steve’s delicious fingers.

In the midst of it all, Steve presses soft, hot kisses to the nape of Eddie’s neck, whispers, “I’ve got you, baby” as his hands unbuckle Eddie’s belt and jeans and yank them down. Eddie’s cock strains against his boxers, thick damp patch soaked wholly through the thin fabric. He feels about two good strokes away from cumming all over this table. Starts begging harder, pleading for Steve to fuck him already, wiggling his ass against Steve’s hard cock, drinking in the shudders it sends through Steve’s body.

A sharp smack lands across one cheek, jolting Eddie forward, a broken moan spilling across the wrecked surface of the table. 

“Gotta put you in your place, huh, baby? ‘S that it?” 

All Eddie does in response is arch his back, wiggle his hips a bit. Knows he’s testing his luck, but he’s helpless when Steve gets this way. Helpless and desperate to be taken so  brilliantly and completely. To be destroyed from every angle. 

Steve grips him hard and slams him down flush to the table. The air is knocked from Eddie’s lungs. His entire body tingling with want. Relishing the sweet sharp specks of pain. Steve’s sweat-slick chest and the cold metal adorning his nipples press hard against Eddie’s back.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy for me?” Steve’s breath is hot against Eddie’s ear. “Or am I gonna hafta make you?”

Christ. 

If there’s an afterlife, Eddie’s surely in it. 

The only way to explain this is by some divine intervention. Some greater being has come down and blessed him beyond his means with this beautiful supermodel of a man. 

“Guess I’m gonna hafta make you, huh?” Steve’s hand bullies itself between Eddie’s pelvis and the table, fingers swirling across the quickly building damp patch. He tsks to himself. “So wet f’me already. That’s my good lil’ slut.”

Eddie keens. Hips jerking forward against Steve’s fingers. Wordless please spilling from his lips. Wholly desperate for anything Steve is willing to give him.

Steve’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of Eddie’s boxers and yank them down in one motion.

The cool air hits his burning skin, making him flinch slightly – enough, though, to catch Steve’s eye. For Steve to stop his panting and grinding and lean forward, hands so gentle as they stroke Eddie’s face, voice immensely softer than it was three seconds ago. “You okay, babe? Too much?”

Eddie tries to nod, then laughs a bit at himself considering the position he’s in. “I’m okay.”

“Swear? ‘Cause we can stop.” 

“I promise, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles. “The air was jus’ colder than I expected.” 

The expression on Steve’s face softens then. Warmth and love and care bleeding through the map of his skin. 

“Well, let me warm you up then.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, a slight press of tongue against teeth against lips against -

Warm hands smooth over the curve of Eddie’s ass, fingers slipping back between his cheeks, grazing softly over his wanting hole.

“Fuck.” Eddie whispers, eyes blinking closed as he pushes back against Steve’s thick fingers, angling for more for pressure for full please fill.

“I’ve got you, baby. Don’t worry.” Steve leans back, his finger tracing the outline of Eddie’s hole, dipping slightly in and out and in and out. 

The mood is softer now. Laced with the same desire and passion and want, but covered in that thick layer of honey sweet affection, the bit that soothes Eddie’s aches, fills him with purpose and life.

The sweet connection of years of learning each other so well. Every new version.

There’s a shuffle behind him and then the cool sensation of fresh lube dipping inside. Eddie jolts from the touch, Steve quick to soothe him, press kisses along his spine, whisper soft praises into his skin, making Eddie melt into the stained wood of the table. 

Then, finally, blissfully, two strong, warm, thick fingers glide deep inside him, in and out, gently twisting and pressing and stretching him open. A deep moan rumbles out of him, his eyes rolling back, hands grasping for purchase on the table. His entire body feels like it’s on fire. Burning from the inside out. With how expertly Steve knows how to open him up, how to pull him to the fringes of his own sanity and back again. 

“That’s it. Doin’ so good f’me, baby.” Steve’s voice is syrupy sweet, melting into Eddie from every angle. 

Fuck. Eddie is the luckiest goddamn man alive. 

Steve keeps working him open, fingers pushing and stretching, until Eddie is shaking and sputtering incoherently beneath him.

“Fuck, oh – more, Stevie, please–”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes! Yes, please, please, more.” 

“I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry.” Steve pulls his fingers out, slow and taunting. Eddie immediately mourns the absence, a deep cry pouring out of him. Steve soothes him, gentle fingers tracing across his back, mapping the dark inked lines on his skin. 

The sound of a zipper opening and denim clunking to the floor carries through the air. Eddie braces himself.

However desperate he is for Steve to fill him up, it’s never not a stretch. No matter how much they prep. How often Steve beautifully takes him apart. The stretch still gets him, a burn so deep it melds with the very cells of his being. And, honestly? Eddie would have it no other way. 

He lives for that feeling. 

So, when Steve lines himself up, when Eddie feels the tip start to breach his wanting hole, he sighs, body relaxing under Steve’s expert touch. The second Steve bottoms out inside him, they both moan, something deep and guttural and beautifully harmonized. 

Steve trails soft fingers across Eddie’s sides. Lips leaving gentle kisses across his shoulders. Teeth biting and sucking and bruising the junction of his neck. Several minutes pass where Eddie slowly dissolves into a whining, begging mess. His hole clenching tight around Steve’s cock, making Steve curse against his skin. 

“Fuck. Need – more, Stevie, please god–” 

Which is all Steve needs to hear.

The table beneath Eddie creaks as Steve pulls out and slams back in, pace hard and brutal and everything Eddie has ever wanted holy fuck how is this real. 

“God, baby, you take me so well. Fuckin’ made for me.” Steve grunts, hips slamming hard against Eddie’s, the table shaking beneath him. 

He’s sure that they’ll get a complaint from the venue for messing up yet another dressing room, but Eddie does not give a single fuck right now. All he cares about is how delicious it feels to be so full of Steve. To have Steve ramming him so hard he feels it in his throat. God. He’s a lucky man.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good you feel.” Steve grunts on a particularly hard thrust, the movement sparking deep in Eddie.

Eddie groans, eyes rolling back, unable to form any words, his throat choked on every single thrust.

Steve grabs a handful of Eddie’s hair and pulls. Eddie moans as he’s ripped upward, his back arching against Steve’s chest, Steve’s cock curving deliciously inside of him.

Steve’s breath is hot in his ear, edges sharp and cutting. “I said talk to me.”

“Fuck - ‘m sorry, so good. God yes, so good–”

“Yeah? Feels good?”

“Yes! God, fuck, so good – agh.” 

“And who’s makin’ y’feel so good, baby? Huh?” Steve thrusts hard against Eddie’s prostate, drawing a deep cry from Eddie’s throat. “Who is it?”

“You! Fuck, Stevie, it’s you–”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me. Not – fuck – not those fans, not the groupies, not – oh, yeah, fuck – anyone else. Me.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, oh –”

“Think any of them can make you feel this way?” 

“No, no, fuck, I – god, Stevie – never, no– ” 

Eddie feels like he’s died and gone to whatever higher plane of existence there is. His body is mere putty in Steve’s hands, there to shape and move and please as he wants, and Eddie? Eddie has never been happier than when he’s beneath Steve, feeling him so deep inside.

“That’s it, baby. Look at you.” Steve groans, fingers tugging Eddie’s head back further, lips ghosting across his ear. “God. Lookin’ so – ungh – fuckin’ pretty f’me. Fit on my cock so well.”

The coil in Eddie’s gut is sharpening, spinning tight, each thrust inching him closer and closer to pure ecstasy. He whimpers, begs, cries, moans – every sound leaving his lips a desperate plea for Steve. For any and every part of him.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” Steve snaps hard and fast against Eddie’s hips. “Fuck. Feel you, so fuckin’ tight. God, just my tight lil’ hole, huh?”

“Yes! So close, oh my god, fuck, please please Stevie fuck need it touch me ple–”

Steve wraps his beautiful strong soft hand around Eddie’s dick. Grip merely ghosting against skin as he drags it up and down. The featherlight touch juxtaposed with the rapid thrusts settling somewhere sharp inside of Eddie. 

The tension builds, Eddie teetering on the edge of a cliff, the shocks of pleasure forming a life raft he clings to desperately. Stars spot along the edges of his vision, constellations he’s mapped a million times and never tires of. 

“Please, baby, please please, s’close, fuck–”

“Go ‘head. Cum f’me, baby.” Steve rasps, the measure of his hips stuttering in its rhythm. “Let everyone know who’s makin’ y’feel this good.”

“Fuck, Stevie!” Eddie cries out, the tension in his body finally snapping, vision blacking out, dark, hot pleasure coursing through every fucking inch of his body, lighting him up from the inside out, thick cum coating his chest and splattering the desk. 

“Fuck, yes, baby. So good. So fuckin’ good.” Steve groans, grip tightening in Eddie’s hair, hips stuttering hard as he cums, hot and thick and deep inside Eddie. Eddie clenches hard around him, making Steve let out a high, broken moan as he rides out the lingering waves of his orgasm. 

They stand there for a moment, panting hard, bodies slick with sweat and cum and all of them wholly content. Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder, presses soft kisses there, making Eddie shiver, clenching softly again. Steve curses against him.

Steve gently releases Eddie’s hair, starts rubbing soothing patterns across his scalp, other hand gently tracing up and down his arm, lips pressing sweet promises and love into his skin. 

“Fuck, baby. You did so good. That’s my good boy.” Steve’s voice is hoarse, raw with want and emotion as he kisses up the side of Eddie’s throat, sucks hard beneath his ear. “My rockstar.”

Eddie chuckles. Leans his head back against Steve’s shoulder. Lets out a completely happy sigh. 

“Such a good boy. So perfect. So beautiful. So good.” Steve keeps pressing kisses along Eddie’s shoulders as he slowly pulls out, the feeling making Eddie wince and moan. “I know, baby. I know. You did so good.”

Before Eddie can even move, Steve’s hand is pressing back between his cheeks, the soft pad of his finger pushing his cum back inside of Eddie. 

“Fuck.” Eddie’s eyes roll back as he moans.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good boy.” 

And, as if that wasn’t enough, Eddie is suddenly gasping as the firm shape of a plug pushes inside his still aching hole. 

Steve bites down gently on his ear and whispers, “Gotta keep you ready for me like the good little slut you are.”

By some miracle, Eddie doesn’t black out on the spot. Instead, he mutters a string of curses, hands gripping tight to the table to help keep his balance. Steve chuckles something dark before gently turning Eddie around and wiping the cum from his chest with a handful of tissues swiped from the table.

They trade soft kisses and touches as they clean each other up as best they can. Barely two minutes pass before their peace is interrupted.

Someone pounds on the door, three quick knocks, which means – “Bus is heading out in 5 minutes with or without you two!” Jeff’s voice is at least light, though Steve and Eddie know by now that he means business. They may have been left behind once. Or twice. Unimportant.

Steve presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Time’s up, rockstar.”

“Soooo, what do I have to do to get you to wear these again?” Eddie runs soft fingers over Steve’s nipple piercings, making Steve shiver.

“Who said I plan on taking ‘em off?” Steve grins wide.

“Oh, you–”

More banging sounds through the room. This time, more aggressive. 

Much more.

Eddie and Steve lock eyes and sigh, because –

“Oi!” Gareth’s voice cuts through the room. “You two can fuck back at the hotel! Let’s go! Burgers are calling our names.” 

“That’s your best friend.” Steve grumbles as he pulls his clothes back on. 

“Like yours is any better.” Eddie teases, laughs as Steve pelts him with his shirt. 

“She is marginally better, yes.” 

“Yeah, okay.”

They fix each other up to at least somewhat presentable and fully clothed – and take a cursory sweep of the room to tidy up their mess. 

It’s to Robin’s knocking that they open the door four minutes later. 

She glances over them and wrinkles her nose. “Heathens.”

Steve grins and slings an arm around her shoulders. “Love you, Robs.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She shrugs him off and starts walking down the hall. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” 

“Geez, can’t a guy get a minute of peace around here?” Eddie sighs.

Robin shoots him a withering glare. “We gave you, like, half an hour. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

“Hmmm, whaddaya think, baby?” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and pulls him along. “I could use the food. Fuel up for round two.”

“Round three, even.” Eddie chimes in.

“Ew!” Robin screeches. “Heathens. Both of you.”

Steve’s laugh fills the hallway, swirls its way around Eddie’s heart like always, a warm comfort anchoring him back to reality.

So, yeah. Eddie has performed for hundreds of thousands, going on millions, of people. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare to being the sole audience for Steve Harrington. 

taglist (open):@sunshine-daydreams0809@saramelaniemoon@probablyin-bed@bookworm0690@watermelonmite@sanctumdemunson@5-fievel@nicememerino

divider credit:@saradika-graphics

thank you for reading :)

title inspired by "Kiss It Kiss It" by Renee Rapp

an: saw the prompt. immediate smut brain. bc apparently i write smut now!

this is wholly dedicated to @probablyin-bed <3 so proud of you for starting this new chapter of your life! i know how daunting it is. here's some smut from our favorite boys to help make the process a bit easier to bear. ilysm :)

"Oh, sweet," Steve said, picking up a piece of cardstock propped against the mantle above the fireplace. "Chrissy's got the itinary for the weekend." He scanned the contents, smiling. "Looks like it's gonna be a good time." He glanced up at Eddie, frowning when he saw Eddie still staring at the bed. "What's wrong?"

"There's uh… there's only one… bed," Eddie replied weakly.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Is that… a problem?"

"No," Eddie said. "It's not a problem—"

"Everyone thinks we're boyfriends," Steve said. "Of course they're gonna assume we share a bed."

"I know," Eddie said, regretting that he'd pointed it out. It shouldn't be a problem. It wouldn't be.

"Look, if it's really that important to you, I can ask if there's a spare cot or something around," Steve said with a shrug. "It's really not a big deal, though. You never shared a bed before?"

Eddie snorted. "Of course I have," he said. He thought about getting a cot like Steve said, then worried what Steve's family might think if they found out his 'boyfriend' was sleeping on a cot in the room they were sharing. He took a breath, mentally shaking his anxiety off. "It's fine," he said, meeting Steve's eyes, decisive. "It's totally fine."

Wayne is reading the newspaper and Eddie watches him absentmindedly while chomping down another pancake, trying not to make too much of a mess with the syrup dripping everywhere.

Sometimes Eddie forgets how much time has passed since he first showed up on the trailer’s doorstep, how much he’s grown since then. But as he takes in Wayne’s features, he finds a reminder in the new lines he discovers on his uncle’s face, little signs of age that make his heart grow and sink at the same time.

It hits him then, out of nowhere, how much of his life Wayne has given up for Eddie. To raise him and help him become the man he is today. How much love he poured into his upbringing, despite all the trouble he put him through.

He’s more than just his uncle; he’s a friend, a father figure, the only worthy connection tying him to the Munson name. And for all the struggles Eddie’s early childhood entailed, he couldn’t have been luckier than to end up right here.

Wayne was always accepting of all of his choices, even the ones he didn’t condone or understand. Always making sure Eddie knew he’d have his back no matter what.

Even when Steve eventually came into the picture and Eddie was sure this would be where he’d draw the line and send him to hell, Wayne once again proved there was nothing in this world that could change his unconditional love for him.

Thinking back on it now, Eddie can’t even remember why he was so scared to introduce Steve as his boyfriend. Why he ever doubted that his uncle would do anything other but embrace the fact that Steve was now part of their unconventional little family. Treating him like a son, just like Eddie, like it was the easiest thing to do.

And it makes him wonder, how a man who has so much love to give never ended up with a family of his own.

   "Can I ask you something?”

Wayne looks up from his paper with raised brows, waiting for Eddie to continue.

   “Did you ever regret not having kids?"

Wayne takes a long sip from his mug before he answers, "What do ya mean? I got you, son."

Eddie immediately chokes up, swallows roughly to regain his composure. It never not makes him emotional whenever he’s reminded that Wayne sees in him more than just a life-long burden, a blood relative that got dropped on his door step for him to take care of. Wayne always called him his own. Made him feel like it, too. But that’s not what this is about, not the point of his question.

   "That’s- not what I mean. Did you never, like, think about getting married? You know, find a wife, have a family, all that stuff."

Wayne sets down his mug and thinks for a moment.

   "Sure. I thought about it once or twice. Had a girl once, when I was younger, thought maybe she would be the one. But I guess it just didn’t happen. And then my priorities changed.”

Meaning he took up guardianship for Eddie. Put all his spare time and energy into raising a traumatized boy instead of following his own dreams.

   “Don’t you give me that look, boy. I chose to take you in and I haven’t had a single moment of regret for doing it.”

Eddie’s throat feels tight, nose and eyes burning with tears he refuses to spill.

   “But if you hadn’t, do you think your life would be... different?”

He doesn’t say better because he knows Wayne wouldn’t tolerate him even thinking that.

   “Who’s to say? I’ll never know and I don’t care. I’m happy with my life as it is. I have you. And Steve. You're my family, that's enough."

Eddie can feel tears trickling down his face, tries his best to subtly wipe his eyes before Wayne sees it, but of course he notices it.

   "Hey now. Where's all that coming from? Is this about you and Steve?”

He doesn’t know why he’s even surprised that his uncle instantly came to the right conclusion despite not having mentioned Steve’s name once. It’s not like he could ever hide anything from him; Wayne always knew what went on in his head.

   “It’s- nothing,” Eddie lies but knows the moment he says it, that there is no use to deny it. Wayne would never push but one stern look from his otherwise gentle eyes is enough to make Eddie crumble.

   “It’s just- One of Steve's colleagues from work recently became a dad and it's all he's been talking about."

It was one of the things Eddie often joked about after his secret was finally out. Telling Wayne he’d save him from becoming a grandpa, that he wouldn’t have to worry about Eddie accidentally getting Steve pregnant and having to take care of another abandoned child so he wouldn’t lose any more hair. Wayne did not appreciate his dark sense of humour, just rolled his eyes and told him to shut it but that never stopped Eddie from bringing it up.

But lately, the same subject has been haunting Eddie every waking hour of the day and in his sleep.

   “I see,” Wayne says and rubs his scruffy chin in thought. “So now you’re worried Steve feels like he’s missing out, is that it?”

Eddie wishes he could tell himself that he’s just jumping to conclusions. That it’s not as deep as he makes it. But he knows how much Steve loves kids.

They have a whole gaggle of now young adults to prove how good he is with kids, too, because the ones he’d been babysitting as a teen still worship him like he’s their own personal hero. Still regularly call and visit and ask him for advice and guidance because they know he’s always there for them.

And in the past, Eddie thought that this might be enough to compensate for something they’ll never get to experience first-hand. That the family bond they have with all these wonderful people around them would be all they need to make their life complete. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe it isn’t enough.

   "Did your boy ever say he wants kids?"

He did, once. But that was long before they started dating, back when they were just friends and Steve was still hung up on a past relationship with a girl he thought he’d marry one day, and have kids with, and be the good version of a father both of theirs never lived up to be.

They were still so young then, foolishly caught in the illusion that they’d had their future paths all figured out, unaware of the crossroad waiting for them down the line, offering a choice they hadn’t yet considered optional.

And then, suddenly and unplanned, friends became lovers, and everything changed. And maybe it was selfish of Eddie to think all these ideas Steve had of a perfect life would simply change with him. That falling in love with another guy automatically came with the acceptance that some things just wouldn’t be in the cards anymore.

But much like Wayne chose not to get married and start a family, Steve does have a choice. And it kills Eddie inside to think that maybe he wasn’t the right one. That maybe Steve will wake up one day and realise he wasted years on something that leaves him unfulfilled. He’s not bound to the circumstances he’s in, so what if-

   “What if he does? Maybe not right now but what if he changes his mind and realises he wants something he can’t have? Not with me.”

Wayne gets up and rounds the table, makes a come here motion with his hands and pulls Eddie into his arms the moment he stands. He doesn’t comment on the sob Eddie can’t hold back any longer, just holds him tight.

   “You listen to me, Eddie. If I know anything, then it’s that Steve loves you. I could see it in his eyes the first time I met him and I still see it now, every time I see you together. The way he looks at you? Like you’ve hung the fucking moon. And I’m sure, if there’s ever anything missing in his life, he’ll move heaven and hell to make it right, together with you.”

Eddie can probably count on one hand the times he’s allowed himself to cry in front of Wayne, and that was only shortly after his old life had fallen apart. But right in this moment, he needs it more than ever. Feels like a kid again, despite his 26 years of age, as he buries himself deeper into his uncle’s embrace and lets his soothing words sink in.

Wayne is right.

Whatever it is, whatever problems they face, Steve would always try to make it work, proved it time and again in the seven years of their relationship and even before.

   “But you gotta talk to him. Can’t just keep it to yourself and hope it all goes away. We both know it’ll eat you up and then you’ll just end up doing something stupid.”

Eddie sniffs but huffs a laugh, remembers that one time Wayne had to give him a buzz cut as a kid, because he acted on impulse when he couldn’t take the teasing anymore from the boys in his class that kept calling him ‘an ugly girl’ for having long, wavy hair. Took the kitchen scissors and cut it so badly, shaving it all off was the only way it could be saved.

It wasn’t the first time he’d let his suppressed feelings boil up and explode, not the last time either, but he’s older now, maybe even a little bit wiser, knows there’s no shame in asking for help if he can’t do it alone.

   “Thanks, Wayne,” Eddie mumbles against the old man’s shoulder, gives his uncle one last squeeze before he’s ready to let go again.

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