I've got brainrot about 2 idiots from the 80s

"what do we have here?"

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for the full, uncropped version please check out my 🦋 or ❌

Lazy afternoons in the woods vibes for the @steddiecaz zine, based on Le Printemps by Pierre-Auguste Cot (I only cried 3 times doing the foliage and drapery!)

~Saint “Steve” Sebastian~

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Reference under cut

DJO for Tame Impala, 📸 juliatheoceanchild

for @corrodedcoffinfest day 16 prompt 'hypercolor'

rated t | 476 words | no cw | tags: band manager steve (yes, again), established steddie, corroded coffin on tour

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There’s no way they can afford them, but they are cool, even Steve has to admit it.

“Maybe we do a small batch?” Jeff asks. He’s thinking the same thing Steve is, but he’s also just as much of a guy who likes cool shit as the rest of the band.

“Minimum order with our guys is 50. That’ll be $1000 plus shipping and the personalizing fee.” Steve mentally tries to crunch the numbers. He’s not great at math without a calculator, but at least it’s easy zeroes. “We’d have to sell them at $40 at least to make money on them.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

Eddie really wants them. Hypercolor shirts are huge right now. They’d probably even be able to sell them for that much and market them as extremely limited inventory. But it’s not really a priority. They have to pay their crew, and Gareth needs a drumset before the next leg of the tour starts. There’s an outstanding medical bill from when Frankie broke his thumb and had to get a splint so he could keep playing. They need to eat.

They aren’t hurting for cash, but Steve tries to keep them in line a bit. Jeff helps a lot, but he’s a sucker for cool shit like this.

Steve will have to be the bad guy. Again.

“What if we just got some for ourselves?” Gareth asks with his big eyes and pouty lips. Steve doesn’t fall for it anymore, but it’s still hard to tell him no. “They’re so cool.”

“Yeah,” Eddie plays along, like he always does. “We can get plain ones and put our logo on ourselves and wear them.”

“If you want to,” Steve shrugs. That won’t kill their budget. “You guys have to follow the washing instructions.”

“They just go in the washing machine, right?” Eddie asks. As if he even does their laundry. He’s strictly the dish-doer. Steve can’t trust him with their clothes.

“Yes, but you can’t put them in the dryer. They have to air dry,” Steve explains. “And knowing all of you…”

“Okay, okay,” Jeff laughs. “How about we table this? We have bigger fish to fry.”

“Agreed.” Steve frowns over at Eddie, who still has his eyes on the advertisement for the shirts. “Eddie. C’mon, we’ll come back to those later.”

“I’m gonna buy them.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but it’s only because he knows that arguing is useless. If Eddie wants these stupid shirts, then he’s gonna get them one way or another.

“Sure.”

–

Admittedly, they turn out even better than they originally thought they would. They were worth every penny.

Steve watches Eddie’s hand print slowly fade from the left side of his shirt.

He puts his hand over it to make it last longer.

Based on this fic by @morganbritton132 , a sketch for a comic that I will probably never finish.

✨️You can find more panels of this comic in my Ko-fi (it doesn't change the story at all but somehow I drew almost twice as many panels as there are here)✨️

Steve’s quiet for a second, watching him. Then says “Huh.”

And Eddie says “What?”

Steve, shrugging, a little embarrassed “I never… actually made a fort. As a kid.”

Eddie sits up so fast dragging his feet away from Steves lap he almost knocks his beer over “I’m sorry, what?” Eddie stares at him like he just confessed to a crime. Then his whole face lights up, with a mischievous grin. “Oh, hell no. Nope. We’re fixing that.”

Steve blinks. “What, right now?”

Eddie’s already off the couch. “Yes right now, come on, I’ll show you. Childhood do-over, Harrington.” Eddie tearing through Steve’s house like he owns it. Going through closets and grabbing blankets from Steve’s bed and Couch cushions Steve’s just leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, absolutely gone for this man.

Steve laughs “Eddie, ome on You’re going to get everything dirty.” And eddie, dragging a dining chair in the living room “For a king,” he says, dropping everything in a pile with the goofiest, proudest smile. “Can’t have his majesty catching a draft in his first fort.”

Steve bursts out laughing, hand over his face. It’s so stupid. And It hits him all at once nobody’s ever done something like this to make him happy and god was he happy. And Steve, softly says “God, I love you.”

Eddie freezes. Blanket in hand. Then he grins, slow and dangerous, and drops the blanket. Two steps and he’s got Steve by the hips and backing him into the half -built pillow wall.

Eddie, nose to nose with him “it’s because of my good fort skills isn’t it?”

Steve can’t even answer. He’s laughing, but it’s wet, and he yanks Eddie down by his vest. “Shut up and finish the fort, Munson.”

They do eventually end up finishing it and It’s lopsided and one of the chairs keeps collapsing. String lights from Christmas are hanging inside because Eddie “always wanted those in a fort.”

Steve’s laying on Eddie’s chest, both of them under the questionable blanket roof. Eddie’s playing with Steve’s hair.

Steve says almost in a whisper “I get it now. Why you never wanted to get out.”

Eddie, kissing his temple “Yeah?”