🌀⭐️

Wayne insisted that he would get Angie from the salon to try to fix it, but he knows what Angie charges and he knows Wayne doesn’t have that kind of money. That’s how he got in this mess in the first place.

Steve opens the door and somehow manages to keep his face neutral as he pulls Eddie inside. He silently leads him upstairs and into his bedroom, then into the connected bathroom because Steve is rich. Or at least upper middle class enough that he doesn’t have to leave his room to take a piss.

Must be nice.

There’s a chair set up in the middle of the floor with a variety of scary looking bottles and tools on the counter. He recognizes a hair dryer, and a comb, but nothing else. He’s a little worried he’s about to end up on the news, and not in the way everyone expects of him.

“Sit. I have a lot of work to do.”

Eddie sits. He’s not scared of Steve. Steve’s probably the only jock who hasn’t taken a chance to punch, hit, or kick him. He doesn’t even really say anything particularly rude or hurtful towards him. Maybe behind his back once Tommy and his gaggle of meatheads have had their fill, but never to his face. But he has a certain tone that makes him obey without question.

And if his dick twitches a little in his jeans, that’s between him and the tight Levi knockoffs wrapped tight around his hips and legs.

He starts picking up strands of his hair and sighing, moving around him to take in the disaster on his head. Eddie clears his throat, but before he can say anything, Steve speaks.

“I can fix it, but it’s gonna be a while. You got anywhere to be?”

Eddie laughs nervously. “Rather not go in public like this so. All yours for the day.”

Steve pats his head like he’s a dog and Eddie’s dick reacts like he’s a dog wagging his tail. He swallows and hopes Steve doesn’t suspect anything. His damn hormones are just all over the place and he’s nervous and embarrassed and—

“I need to wash it first. It’ll help the curls fall more on their own. You said he did this yesterday?” Steve drags the chair over to the sink and Eddie cannot think about how much strength it takes to pull him across the floor like this.

“Yeah. Not even sure he read the instructions.”

“Even if he did, he didn’t have the right tools. But it’s not the first bad perm from attempting one at home. Probably not the last,” Steve pushes his head back into the sink. Eddie’s tired of his dick thinking this is foreplay. “Close your eyes. The chemicals will burn if any gets in them.”

Despite how straight to the point Steve’s words are, his actions are slow and careful. Almost soft. His hands are gentle as he scrubs what Eddie assumes is his shampoo for what Eddie assumes is longer than necessary. It feels so good.

He rinses just as carefully, placing his hand across the top of his forehead to try to prevent anything from getting in Eddie’s eyes. It’s the most taken care of Eddie’s ever felt in his life, probably.

Steve guides his head up and starts scrubbing his hair with a towel, his stomach and chest rubbing against Eddie’s shoulder and arm as he does. He’s sturdy, muscular, but not built like some of the other jocks who spend all their free time in the gym. His muscles are less obvious, and Eddie’s dick is getting harder by the minute.

“That already helped a little,” Steve explains as he combs through his hair slowly. “I’ll use something to strip the rest of the perm chemical out and then wash it again. Then I’ll have to use a leave-in conditioner and let it sit for a while before washing again.”

“Okay.”

What else is Eddie supposed to say? Steve’s helping him and he’s enjoying it. He’s not gonna turn any of that down.

Nearly two hours later, as Steve’s blow drying Eddie’s hair to make sure he’s fixed it, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna come in his jeans. He needs to get the hell out of here.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice. If he does he hasn’t said anything.

“All done. You might want to wash and condition your hair again tonight or tomorrow. It’s dry.”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t even own conditioner, but he can’t tell Steve that.

“You can have this bottle,” Steve hands him one of the bottles on the sink. “I got a new one anyway.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie stands and takes the bottle from him, hoping that his jeans are arranged in a way that hides how hard he is.

Steve steps closer. Too close. Kissing distance away close.

He smirks. “I can give you a minute to take care of that.”

He glances down at Eddie’s crotch for a second before looking back up.

“Or I could help.”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle back from him, setting it on the counter before he drops to his knees in front of Eddie.

“Changed my mind on the weed. Let me suck you off instead.”

“Um. Okay.”

Robin sighs. “Because three dollar bills don't exist.”

Steve scoffs. Hot curly-haired chick throws back her head and laughs at something her date said. A tiny strawberry blonde with a tooth gap.

“So? Queer people do exist.”

Robin honks. “I love you. Get us another drink?”

He probably shouldn't. But she's finally starting to loosen up, so he goes.

He places their order, then hops on a bar stool. He's just in time to see the strawberry blonde girl slide into the seat beside Robin.

“Thank Christ,” says a voice by his ear. A deep, rumbly one. “Chrissy has been ogling your friend all night. It's her first time, so she's a little nervous.”

Steve turns. Hot curly-haired chick grins back at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. Except that voice was decidedly un-female just now, and shit, he's an idiot.

“Eddie,” says hot, curly-haired dude. “Saw you checking me out.”

“Steve,” Steve croaks. “Sorry, I thought you were a girl. I'm not …”

Eddie watches him gesture at the bar, and something about his smile turns sad.

“Got it. You're the straight chaperone, huh?”

Steve cringes. “Yeah. No. I'm not completely against the idea, I've just never- … What I'm trying to say is that I'm not a full three dollar bill. More of a two-and-a-half.”

Eddie has been listening to his ramble with a confused frown, but now his face lights up.

“Well, big boy,” he purrs. “I wouldn't mind adding my fifty cents, if you catch my drift.”

“Don’t you mean your two-” Steve starts. Eddie winks. “Oh. I mean … yeah? I'd like that?”

Eddie's smile goes large and dimpled. Steve leaves the club with three fresh hickeys and a number tucked into his pocket.