#blind dates

What mattered was his name, his face, the faces of his future children; nearly engineered to be purebred show ponies. What mattered was how his future partner could hang off his arm like sparkling jewelry, beautiful and silent. Just like his mother. Nevermind the fact that his mother was half drunk all the time, present enough to be seen but not present enough to be part of a conversation. Nevermind the fact that Steve couldn’t remember the last time she smiled with her eyes, though the corners of her lips were practically glued up-right, in the most corporately digestible manner. Linda Harrington could give the Mona Lisa a run for her money — and if Richard Harrington could profit off of it, he would.

So, it came as no surprise to Steve that this morning’s headshots came with a firm ‘Pick one, this time. No more refusals, or I swear to god, Steven, you’re going to learn some respect.’

Steve knew what his fathers ‘respect’ looked like, and swallowing his emotions for one night was the far better option. So, he sucked it up, swallowed his refusal, and picked up the stack of pictures.

There were four omegas, each signed with nothing more than their name. The first was a dainty little thing, slim with strawberry blond hair that looked like it bounced when she walked. Her cheeks were rosy and she looked as if she opened her mouth to speak, an army of little woodland creatures would be at her beck and call. Steve’s father wouldn’t care about her charm, though, he cared that her last name was Cunningham, and the money that came with it.

The next was another blonde, much more showy than the first with her teased hair and frost blue eyeshadow. She looked like she talked a lot. She looked like she should be going on a date with Kermit the Frog instead of him. Though, her father was the head of Thompson Pharmaceuticals, so here she was instead, face smiling up from a stack of potential mates — like some kind of job interview.

The last two were brunettes, and Steve wasn’t entirely sure they were different people. He kept flicking back and forth like it was a test, like his father had put a spot-the-difference puzzle in front of him just to see him sweat. They were pretty, sure, and Steve usually preferred brunettes but they just looked so… boring. Heather and Hannah — Christ, even their names were similar. Their last names were different, though, and Steve felt queasy thinking about what his father could do with connections to the local newspaper or the mayor.

He didn’t want to pick any of them.

The smell of eggs and toast made him nauseous, cloying and crawling, filling the air as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. Any of these connections in his father’s hands felt like bad news, the two brunettes especially, so it was probably better to stick with the blondes. Decision reluctantly made, he handed those two pictures back to his father and mumbled out some excuse of meeting Tommy before he shuffled out the door.

Tommy was at college. Which his father would know if he spent any time listening to his son, but it was clear Steve was meant to be just as silent and demure as his mother. Richard Harrington didn’t have family, he had possessions, and possessions didn’t talk back.

Grumbling to himself and trying to suck in as much fresh air as he could to dispel the lingering nausea, Steve made his way to the beemer and took off toward Family Video. After Scoops Ahoy, Richard had forbidden him from getting another job, especially one as embarrassing as customer service. Apparently, saving people from a mall fire and getting a shining endorsement from the chief of police himself, was enough to bring some pride to the Harrington name — or at least enough for Steve to be on display once again and out of the minimum wage working pool.

Robin got a new job, though, and Steve gained an escape from his house. Sure, Robin’s boss, Keith, was annoying about him hanging around but there wasn’t anything he could do about it, and Robin was his best employee. Sometimes — most times — Steve just needed to be anywhere his father wasn’t.

Robin was wiping down an already clean counter when he pulled open the door and wandered inside, the little bell jingling his arrival. She sagged into the counter and tossed the rag over her shoulder.

“Finally!” She groaned, “No one’s showed up today and I swear I’ve wiped this counter down five times. Save me!” She whined and wheedled, squirming like a toddler with too much energy and no idea where to put it.

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had even a minute ago.

“I have an update about these stupid blind dates my dad wants me to go on, your ears open for business?” he asked, walking over to lean against the counter right in her space. Robin immediately perked up, a sparkle in her eye with the promise of gossip.

“Yes, yes! Gimme,” her hands made grabbing motions excitedly, as if she could pull the words right out of his throat. He didn’t know if Keith was her floor partner this shift, or if some other kid was in the back instead; but as of right now, Robin and Steve were the only two people in the store. So, he took a breath and regaled her with the recap of that morning, from the four pretty headshots, to his fathers threat, and the concerns about what his dad would do with those connections.

Her eyebrows lifted in rapt attention, then drew together in concern, and crinkled with suspicion as she calculated the possibilities. He relaxed with every exaggerated expression on Robin’s face, unbelievably happy that he’d found someone he could expel all of this to; someone who would listen, and Steve would know she’s listening; someone who takes what he says and thinks about it, remembers it, helps him or lets him vent when he needs to. She always knows the difference between when he needs advice and when he needs to rant, and he wondered if that might be the trauma bonding she’s mentioned a few times. Maybe the fumes from the fire gave them mind powers, melded them together until they shared one brain.

It helped that she was a Beta, that she didn’t get overwhelmed with his scent or emotions and didn’t overwhelm him in return. She smelled like orange blossoms and lemongrass, like sitting out on the lawn during summer, the sun shining on your face and prickling warmth into your skin. It was soft, it was gentle, and it always calmed him down. He found a perfume a while ago that reminded him of her — spritzed it on his pillow sometimes when he couldn’t go to sleep. She knew about it, obviously. Steve didn’t keep anything from Robin.

“Hmm,” she muttered, “why would the mayor’s daughter be on the list? The mall fire was his fault, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think Richard Harrington really cares about lives when money is involved.”

“Mm, cost benefit analysis probably deems the payout for the families as less than the overall profit of the businesses,” she nodded. Steve pretended to nod along with her, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Whatever it meant, Richard and the mayor both probably saw Steve as a marketing opportunity.

“Cost benefit,” she continued, patting him on the head, “Like, the money gained from the mall was overall more than the money lost paying out the families. So, the money left over is more important to them, even if some people died.”

He liked when Robin explained things to him. It wasn’t like when Dustin or Mike stepped in, assuming he should just know things he’d never been told before. Nancy used to do that, sometimes, too. He didn’t think he was stupid — hoped his friends didn’t think he was stupid, either, but sometimes it was hard to tell. Robin never made him feel like that, even when she patted his head or called him dingus in the most fond voice anyone had ever used for him. He’d really like to find someone more like that, someone willing to have patience for the things he didn’t just get, and people in his father’s circle never seemed to have any patience to spare.

“There’s just no way I want to be alone with these women, I don’t even know them!” He whined, thumping his head on the counter. Omegas had their own private high school, away from the ‘dangers of Alphas who were just learning to control themselves’. Steve thought it was demeaning, like somehow a pretty face and a pretty scent were enough to throw him into an uncontrollable rampage. It wasn’t like he never passed an omega in the grocery store, or at a party, the whole concept was ridiculous.

He’s sure he must have passed some of these girls at one point or another — small town in bum-fuck nowhere, Indiana — but they were still strangers.

“Well,” Robin started, patting his head, “technically you won’t be alone, so it shouldn’t be too bad?” She said, pitch turning up at the end like a question, like she didn’t really believe it.

Steve rolled his eyes, picking his forehead off the counter, but leaving his chin smushed into the acrylic. She continued to run her fingers through his hair.

“Beta chaperones don’t count. You think some middle aged weirdo with nothing else to do is going to make it less awkward?” He rolled his eyes. “Anyone that wants to insert themselves into a date with teenagers is not someone I want to be near.”

Robin shuddered in sympathy, patting his head a few more times before turning his attention to the stack of returns behind the counter. She always saved this task for his arrival, so she had someone to walk around the store with and Steve liked it; liked doing something more than just standing at the counter, and it allowed him to look around at the new arrivals and see what people liked to rent the most.

He liked being kind of nosy, to be honest. He was a gossip at heart, remembered sitting on his mothers lap at the country club and listening to all the ladies share scandalous stories about the rest of Hawkins. That was before his mother stopped going out alone — before she decided his father couldn’t be trusted on business trips, and before he got it into her head that wives should be seen and not heard.

Steve would never insist that. He wanted whoever he ended up with to be just as talkative as Robin, and wanted to waste the days away listening to them. He’d just have to endure these two dates, and he’d have a little bit of reprieve before his father slapped another stack in front of him to pick from. It would be fine. For now, he’d follow Robin around as they put tapes back, judged people’s movie tastes, and he’d listen as she told him what was new with the students at Hawkins High that he’d left behind.

— 1 —

Steve stared at himself in the mirror, navy button-down tucked neatly into a pair of black trousers. He had briefly debated not going through his hair routine — letting it stay flat and rumpled and air-dried in some kind of defiance, a protest of this sham date — but he couldn’t actually leave the house looking that pathetic, he refused.

He looked well put together, against his better judgement. Robin would probably cheer him on, tell him to stick it to the man or whatever. Maybe he’d be fed up enough on the next one.

For now, he sighed and patted his pants down, wiping away the sweat from his palms. This was it. He’d certainly been on bad dates before, but those were only overeager betas and overconfident alphas. Never an omega. Never a blind date. And he’d never had to deal with a chaperone before.

He was dreading every second.

Enzo’s was the only decent place in town. Each table was set cleanly and neatly, lit with a candle that flickered through its frosted glass container. Steve thought there was something ironic there about a fire flickering as bright as it could through a cage meant to dim its flame, but… well, he wasn’t a poet or anything.

The hostess led him to a table in a secluded corner, three seats placed around the square table, though it was only set for two. He rolled his eyes as he sat, picturing again a middle aged man with some kind of hard-on for watching teenagers fumble through the most awkward date imaginable. His father hadn’t bothered to mention who was going to be his date tonight, just left him with a note on the kitchen counter — time and location scrawled across the expensive notebook paper with Richard Harrington stamped along the bottom.

Once again, Steve was reminded that this was nothing more than a business meeting.

He sat with his back to the corner, facing the rest of the dining room and wallowing in his own misery, until he noticed two figures being led over to his table. He was… ‘thrown off’ was putting it lightly.

“Munson?” He asked, checking that he wasn’t completely hallucinating the man in front of him.

“At your service, Sir Harrington,” he regaled with a bow. “May I present your lady of the night,” he gestured to the brunette next to him with a flourish of his hand, as if she were some prize he had won.

He was shockingly well dressed in a black button-down and slacks, buttons done all the way up — though his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying an impressive amount of tattoos that trailed all the way past his undone cuffs. His long hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, a few stray strands here and there cascading down to his shoulders.

Steve realized he missed the girl’s introduction. It was either Heather or Hannah, one of the brunettes. He didn’t know why his father had given him a choice if he was just going to pick Steve’s dates anyway. Maybe it was a test. Maybe Steve had failed again.

He only blinked himself from his thoughts as Munson pulled the chair out for HeatherHannah — the girl making a blatantly put-off face that Eddie politely ignored before sitting down himself.

Steve was still staring at him. He knew Munson was a beta, that wasn't a shock, but what the hell was he doing here? As a chaperone? Was that even allowed with his… extra curriculars?

“What are you-“

“Just ignore the man behind the curtain,” Eddie cut Steve off, scooting his chair away from the table a couple inches. He covered his eyes with a lock of hair, which Steve assumed to be the curtain in question.

He took a breath, watching Eddie’s eyes flick from his to the girl across from him, nudging discreetly. Steve rolled his eyes and turned back to the girl who also, very obviously, did not want to be there.

She was drooping in her seat, arms crossed and staring at Steve like this was the last place she wanted to be. He tried to offer a sympathetic smile, but she just rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. Closed off, shut in. Making herself smaller made Steve feel smaller, like he was something to curl away from.

“So,” he started, trailing off with nowhere to go. He could feel Eddie’s eyes on the side of his face. This was so fucking awkward, he couldn’t even remember her name. He flicked his eyes to Eddie again.

Hannah, he mouthed.

“So, Hannah!” Steve adjusted, thanking any god that was listening right now for Eddie Munson, of all people. “Your dad’s the mayor, right?” Steve asked, cringing internally. It was the only thing he knew about her, though it was probably the worst conversation starter he possibly could have used.

“Right, okay,” she said abruptly, sitting up in her seat and uncrossing her legs. He could hear the click of her heel on the wood paneled flooring as she stamped it back to the ground. “I get that your dad’s like, hot shit or whatever, but I’m only here so I keep getting an allowance. I’ll let my dad know you were a perfect gentleman, but I’m not interested, alright?” She raised her eyebrow, waiting for a response, but Steve wasn’t entirely sure what to say. She was definitely more strong minded than his father would like, anyway, and this worked in Steve’s favor, right?

He nodded.

“Great!” She chirped, suddenly looking perkier, a bright smile painted onto her face as she grabbed her purse and stood. “Nice to meet you, bye!”

She wiggled her fingers, waving goodbye as she turned and left, heels clicking and hair bouncing like something out of a movie. Rather than being tempted to follow, it was his turn to sag into his seat, dropping his head onto the back of the chair.

A low whistle rang out beside him.

“Damn, alright. I think that was the shortest date in history,” Eddie remarked, picking at the black nail polish on his fingers.

Steve sighed. “Actually, I think Rachel in chem walked out on a date before it even started, because Jeremy P. didn’t hold the door open for her.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, fingers frozen mid-peel as a couple flakes of black polish fluttered to the ground, a sad imitation of confetti. “No shit?”

Steve flashed him a half-wilting smile, still scrunched low in his seat. He was about to respond — some self-deprecating quip about coming in second, even for worst dates — when the waitress finally arrived by their table.

“Can I start you with any drinks?” She asked, trailing off at the end, as she noticed the empty seat in front of Steve.

He looked from the waitress to Eddie, to the empty place setting across from him, and sat up — belatedly trying to look a bit more presentable in a nice restaurant. He gestured to the empty seat, hoping Eddie would stay and he wouldn’t be left alone after tonight’s massive failure. They should at least get dinner out of this, since Eddie had to come all the way here for nothing.

Much to his relief, the metalhead knocked his ring-clad knuckles on the table and switched from his seat by Steve’s side, to the empty one across from him. The waitress eyed him nervously as he ordered, with all the enthusiasm of someone who’d never stepped foot into Enzo’s before. He was animated — despite her side-eye — and relaxed, crossing his legs like he was meant to be sitting here the whole time, rather than just an observer.

Steve wondered why he was doing this in the first place. He’d forgotten that Eddie was older than him, being that he was still in high school and set to graduate with Robin’s year. Honestly, Steve thought chaperones had to have some kind of credential for this. Did they have credentials for this?

He ordered absentmindedly, still stuck on what Eddie was doing here and why he decided to stay. He didn’t have to stay if the omega wasn’t here, and he’d spent so many lunches ranting about the rich, the popular, the athletic, people like Steve. People that he called the oppressors, people he said shouldn’t have as much power over the masses as they do. Though, Steve agreed with him there. Just the thought of his father being legally connected to any of the people he’s being forced to date had a shiver running down his spine.

“So,” Eddie started once the waitress walked away. “What is King Steve doing on a date with someone so clearly not picked by him?” He leaned over the table, fingers steepled together in a mock imitation of his father’s business partners. His silver rings sparkled in the glow of the candle light, drawing attention to a couple new tattoos on his fingers that Steve hadn’t noticed before. Had he ever spent this much time looking at Eddie’s fingers?

He blinked himself back to the present, trying desperately to focus on Eddie’s question so he didn’t look like the drooling, bumbling, jock that Munson had so frequently ranted about. For some reason, he was more interested in making a good impression now than he had been in front of the mayor’s daughter just minutes ago.

Steve cleared his throat, hoping he hadn’t paused too long.

“Well, I can only say no to my dad so many times before he stops pretending I have a choice,” he muttered, unable to help the bitterness that seeped into every word. He ducked his head, staring down at the table so he wouldn’t see the glint in Munson’s eye as he complained about daddy dearest. He felt like an ass, complaining about his rich dad while he knew exactly where Al Munson had ended up.

To Steve’s surprise, Eddie barked out a laugh instead of some pointed quip, and he looked up to catch his eye. Eddie was nodding along to some thought in his head. “Yikes, so the mayor’s daughter was picked out by daddy?”

“Jesus Christ, do not call my father daddy, please,” Steve begged, trying to suppress a full-body cringe.

“Not the daddy type?” Eddie was still leaned forward, a sparkle in his eye — and Steve wondered if he was only staying for the opportunity to torture him.

“Not for him,” he muttered, picking at a fuzz on the table and missing the glint of something dangerous in Eddie’s eye.

He unthreaded his fingers, tapping out a rhythm on the tablecloth, and once again Steve couldn’t tear his eyes from the way Eddie’s rings flashed in the candle light. They were the brightest things in their dark little corner, glinting with every shift of Eddie’s fingers, every time he fidgeted or tapped or flicked, Steve was drawn back by the sparkle of silver.

“Duly noted,” the man mumbled back, and Steve wasn’t quite sure which part he had noted. He felt like shrinking under the weight of Eddie’s dark eyes, but he held his posture straight, like somehow cowering under the gaze would be another loss for him tonight. He took a breath he hoped was subtle, and lifted his eyes to meet the ones across from him.

Eddie always had a way of sucking people in, a weird charisma that drew people to him even if he was being the most annoying person in the room. He commanded attention, and Steve thought that was just when he was boisterous and loud, that he couldn’t be ignored because he made himself seen. 

But as Steve sat there, silence taking over the space between them, he found that he still couldn’t be ignored. He was so calm compared to his usual flailing movements, barely a twitch aside from his fingers gently tapping away at the table, not a single word spoken and yet — and yet — Steve was still stuck. Struck almost, by some magnetic force nestled in the black hole of Eddie Munson’s eyes. He felt like prey, like Eddie had become the alpha at the table, and not Steve. Deliriously, Steve thought maybe he needed another chaperone for this dinner, though there was no omega in sight.

“So,” Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, “I didn’t know you were a chaperone.”

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers, Harrington, and sad failed date money is just as good as illicit drug money.”

“Is it?” he quirked an eyebrow, “Because one of those feels a little more embarrassing than the other from where I’m sitting.”

“I’m not embarrassed at all,” Eddie said casually, taking a sip of water, “I don’t know about you, though.”

He did feel embarrassed. Not because of the failed date — Steve had failed a multitude of dates since becoming a social pariah and Robin would be relentless in her teasing — but he was embarrassed anyhow. Whether it was the weight of Eddie’s eyes on him while he struck out, or the feeling of being sold off by his father with Eddie as a witness, or the fact that Eddie must have this picture of him in his mind that Steve wanted to squash and he couldn’t exactly do that while participating in some weird rich kid mating ritual he had no say in. Maybe it was something else entirely. Steve just knew that he felt like shriveling up under a magnifying glass, Eddie’s eyes burning into him like the sun until he burst into flames on the sidewalk.

Surprisingly, once the waitress brought their food and Eddie started tucking into the free pasta, the feeling of being analysed dissolved. It felt like a weight had been lifted or a string had been cut the second Eddie’s eyes dropped from Steve’s face. Even more surprisingly, maybe, the conversation didn’t stop there either. Eddie was good at filling silences, Steve knew that from years of cafeteria rants, but he wasn’t just good at addressing a room or spinning theatrical speeches to the masses. He was good at holding your attention one-on-one as well.

They talked about Eddie’s job as a chaperone, about Steve’s not-job keeping Robin company at Family Video just to get out of the house. They stayed for over an hour, longer than Steve had even expected the date to be in the first place, and never once did he feel like this was a waste of time.

At the beginning of the night, he’d prepared to feel exhausted as he stepped out of Enzo’s, he’d thought he would suffer through an awkward hug, have to turn a stranger down and hope it was nice enough that his father didn’t get a call from the mayor about his behavior. He’d fully expected to go home and try to erase the night from his memory, but he found that actually, he kind of had fun.

Steve bit back a smile as Eddie bowed outside the restaurant, arms flung out and nearly smacking a stray passerby in the arm as he did so. He made a face behind the stranger’s back, eyes crossed and tongue sticking out, and Steve couldn’t bite the smile back any longer.

He felt lighter for just a moment as the two wiggled their fingers in a wave goodbye, setting off in different directions to find their cars. Of course, the feeling couldn’t last as he remembered there were three other girls he’d be forced to go on more dates with. He wondered if they would be just as torturous as he’d expected this date to be, or if he’d be pleasantly surprised. Would another chaperone be scheduled? Would he get Eddie again? Or would he actually be forced to suffer through an awkward date as someone else watched over what not to do. Maybe the next girl would surprise him, and this would all work out. Steve guessed that only time would tell.

Well, time and Robin who was somehow convinced that this whole thing was fate and that Eddie was meant to be his real date, according to the universe. Steve could do nothing but roll his eyes as he followed her down the shelves of family video, chewing on a Twizzler absently while she fabricated an entire future for him and Eddie out of thin air.

“Just think! It’s like, The King and The Freak, or, or, King of the Jocks and King of the Freaks! Or maybe The Freak and the Babysitter?” she rambled, tossing out names like she was going through romcoms. “Ooh!” She yelled, lifting up the case for The King and I as she passed the oldies section.

“Stevie and Eddie, sitting in a tree, D-R-O-O-L-I-N-G!”

He rolled his eyes, shoving another Twizzler in his mouth. “That had too many letters to fit, Robs. B- at best, you’re gonna have to try harder for an A.”

“Whatever, Dingus, you’re so drooling over him, though.”

“I am not!”

“Oh, right, because Heathannah is the reason you literally can’t stop talking about your date,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes straight into the back of her head. 

— 2 —

“You again?” Steve blurted out, though that was the last thing he’d meant to say.

Instead of getting offended, or even appearing alarmed, Eddie’s smile grew sharp — like he enjoyed surprising Steve enough that he dropped his usual charm.

“Me again,” he tilted his head, fox-like as he eyed his prey once again. Steve felt as if he might be on the menu, instead of overpriced pasta. He swallowed the excess saliva that pooled on his tongue.

“Why?”

Eddie laughed as he sat in the same seat to Steve’s left. “Standard practice to assign one beta to an alpha, your highness. Something about alphas being less territorial when there’s a familiar scent present,” he said, shrugging it off as he reached for Steve’s water glass. “Personally I think it’s all bullshit, but I don’t make the rules,” he mumbled as he took a sip.

Steve swallowed again, though this time his mouth felt a little too dry. He eyed the water glass as Eddie placed it back in front of Steve, and the ice clinked enticingly. Steve had the sudden urge to pick it back up and take a sip of his own, but he felt like he was being lured into it.

“So you—”

“No offense, princess, but I think you should probably start talking to your date,” Eddie cut in, flicking his eyes pointedly to the seat across from Steve. The seat that was already taken by the girl he’d somehow completely missed. She smiled awkwardly, looking between the two men.

“Right, sorry,” Steve apologized, and though the girl — Heather, this time — didn’t seem as rude as the previous one, it was still clear his father intended for him to go through all four girls, not just the two he’d been forced to pick out. Maybe he really had failed some kind of test.

Heather looked nervous, fidgety. Steve tried to focus his attention on her, instead of the man beside him, just to maintain some semblance of control in this situation. He started with small talk, asking about what she liked and what she did in her free time, and he felt lucky to at least have made it to the waiter taking their orders, this time.

The waiter didn’t ask Eddie, and Eddie didn’t make any move to order himself. He just sat, leaning slightly away from the table with his arms crossed, and Steve had to do everything in his power to not get trapped within those eyes again. He could feel them though, as he attempted to pick the conversation up again. Like a bug between two fingers, Steve tried his damndest to not squirm under the pressure. He felt like he was being judged, assessed, tested, which was stupid because Eddie was only here to step in if something inappropriate happened, he wasn’t here to… to judge Steve’s dating prowess like some voyeur.

As he pushed through the awkwardness, Heather answered fewer and fewer of his questions, offering nothing in return. She kept fidgeting, like she wanted to say something to him, but kept it to herself instead. When she ignored yet another question Steve tossed her way, he felt like giving up entirely.

“Are you alright?” He asked her, on the verge of fidgeting himself, if only for something to do.

She sighed apologetically. “No, actually… I—” she cut herself off, tapping her fingers against the table. It was grating when she did it, like it was burrowing into his ears.

“I’m sorry,” she started again, “You’re really sweet, and it’s not your fault at all but I can’t do this anymore.”

She stopped tapping, pulling her hands into her lap instead.

“Can’t do… what?”

“This date. It’s not you, I swear! But I already have a boyfriend. He’s not… exactly my fathers first choice, and I promised that I would do this just to get him off of my back but I’m sitting here and I just— I don’t think I’ve even heard a word you said and I’m sorry, really,” she apologized again.

Steve sighed, in exasperation sure, but also in relief. Heather wasn’t as bad as the previous girl — less standoffish, less irritated, less rude — but he didn’t know how much longer he could stand pulling conversation out of her like teeth while Eddie’s eyes burned holes in the side of his head.

Heather left just as her food was set on the table.

“If you keep doubling the length of your dates like this, maybe one day you’ll get through a full one,” Eddie smirked, switching seats without even being asked this time.

“Yeah or maybe I’ll die first and then we’d all be out of our misery,” he scoffed.

“How many more of these you got lined up?” He seemed incredulous, like two dates in a week were normal, but three was going way too far. Steve rolled his eyes. What did he expect after another massive failure? His dad wasn’t going to stop until he was mated off to the highest bidder.

“For now, two more. Like you said, at this rate maybe a month from now we’ll make it through two hours.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, picking up Heather’s unused fork and tucking into her abandoned pasta. “Two hours? Stevie that barely covers a movie and it still may be ambitious.”

He couldn’t help the scoff that dropped from his lips, startled at the man’s audacity. He had expected more heated silence and staring, not Eddie making barbed, bitchy comments about his disastrous love life. He didn’t think he could be more surprised if Eddie had shot him point-blank in the middle of Enzo’s. So, why was his heart beat picking up? He wanted to see what else Eddie would say; wanted to hear the sharp digs that seemed to tug at him the same way his stare did, dark eyes pulling him into a deep abyss.

“You should eat your dinner before you start catching flies, Harrington.”

He snapped his mouth shut, watching as Eddie laughed into another mouthful of pasta. His dimples made him look younger, more carefree than he usually did; soft, unlike the weight in his gaze when he’s trying to make Steve squirm.

Steve did start eating, even if — for some irrational reason — it felt like Eddie had beaten him, that he’d won some kind of argument or competition. He had a knack for making Steve feel off-balance, like everything Eddie threw at him was making him trip all over the place, and he couldn’t get the proper footing before the man threw something else.

“How many free dinners are you weaseling out of people, Munson?” Steve asked, if only to keep the silence at bay. “Or am I just special?”

Eddie laughed again, dimples still gouged deep in his cheeks. His eyes twinkled now, in the candle light, and Steve couldn’t really get over how many different expressions he could catalogue on Eddie’s face. He kind of wanted to see them all, collect them into a language he knew how to read. He could make a dictionary, a translation book, he could fucking alphabetize them like a mad man, just to know them all.

He couldn’t smell Eddie’s pheromones like he could an omega’s, but Steve was grateful for that mercy. He didn’t know what he would do if there was something even more magnetic about him, something that spoke to his very core. He was already too drawn to the man. What would he have done if they’d been in the same circles in high school? If Steve had been a band geek, or if Eddie had stayed on the track team, would they have been drawn together like this? Was it really just a couple comments and a staring contest that allowed Eddie to burrow under Steve’s skin, or was there more?

Though, remembering that Eddie was on the track team before they’d moved up to high school was probably not casual behavior, now that Steve thought about it. He didn’t even remember Tommy’s middle school clubs, aside from the ones Steve was also in.

Like he said. Eddie had always commanded attention.

They carried on conversation as they finished their dinner. Though Eddie hadn’t ordered it, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy whatever pasta dish Heather had, and Steve was certainly too distracted by the sounds he made to pay any attention to what he’d ordered himself. Eddie’s lips were shiny from the sauce, and the way he’d kept licking them clean. It ran right through Steve’s chest each time, skewering him like the chicken on his own plate.

Steve paid once again with Richard Harrington’s card, listening intently as Eddie ranted about something Jason had done earlier in the week — about how he’d made a scene in the hallway talking about an omega’s place in the home, and that a good omega needed to follow their alpha and obey, just like God intended. Dustin had stepped in, trying to shut him down and Jason had laughed it off saying that he was too young, that he just wouldn’t understand. Steve scoffed at that, Jason wasn’t even an alpha so what did his opinion matter anyway?

Apparently, Eddie had then stepped in to back up Dustin. Maybe he could get more details out of the twerp later — hear it from an outside perspective. But for now, Steve just sat and listened, trying to brush off the antsy feeling in his chest and insist that the two not-dates were a fluke and it would probably never happen again. But then Eddie was once again bowing deeply outside of Enzo’s, winking at him and setting off another round of butterflies squirming through Steve’s chest, and as Eddie turned to leave Steve found himself desperate to feel those eyes on him for a little longer.

— 3 —

The next time Steve was sitting in the corner at Enzo’s, he felt like he was going to bounce out of his skin. He’d spent entirely too long on his hair, and panic-called Robin to go over what he was wearing. He kept trying to use the back of his spoon and the candle light to double check everything was in order, that he didn’t have a single hair out of place. He felt like he was going insane, like he was about to crawl out of his skin just waiting for Eddie to wander in.

He was probably testing his luck, like the first two dates were all in his head and it would all come crashing down with this one, or the next one. Maybe Eddie was just humoring him, or maybe he was secretly reveling in the fact that King Steve had fallen so far and he couldn’t even keep a date for more than twenty minutes. Maybe he’d go back to his friends and talk about how pathetic he’d become, falling over Eddie with stars in his eyes because he was shown the time of day. Or maybe Steve was delusional, and he was the only one spending time thinking about their conversations or the way that Eddie’s eyes sparkled like the rings on his fingers. Maybe he forgot about it all the second Steve was out of sight.

But Eddie seemed genuine, laughing and leaning in closer while they talked in the dim candlelight. Sure, he was a drama kid, good at improv and whatever else, he could play it all up and maybe Steve would never know, but — still. He was going insane, he could feel it, and it didn’t help that even catching sight of the man walking through the restaurant for the third time made Steve’s heart skip right into his throat.

He could barely even see the blonde head of hair bobbing over his shoulder, could only see the bright smile across Eddie’s lips and the sparkle in his eye like he was secretly telling Steve a joke only they could understand. Maybe he was saying ‘can you make this one longer than 20 minutes?’ or ‘what will cause this one to run for the hills?’ or maybe he wasn’t thinking any of that at all.

Before Eddie could even reach over to pull out the chair for his date, she bounced out from behind him — face all smiles and glitter and neon eyeshadow.

“Steve, hi!” she squealed, her voice high and just grating enough to know he’d have a headache by the end of it all. She acted like Eddie wasn’t even there, pulling out her own chair and plopping into her seat with all the gusto of someone who’d just downed a handful of sugar sticks and a large coffee. Steve already felt trapped, despite the brown eyed gaze he caught out of the corner of his own eyes.

Eddie seemed to be enjoying this as — ‘Tammy! My name’s Tammy, hi! Ohmigosh I’ve heard sooooo much about you!’ — talked through her whole week with barely more than a breath in between sentences. Steve didn’t even know how the man could breathe with the amount of perfume radiating from the woman, but still, he could practically feel the smirk on Eddie’s face as he just sat back and watched, no pressure at all to appear interested and engaged in the conversation.

Steve kicked him under the table, nodding along to his date with a soft smile on his lips. Eddie pinched his knee in retaliation.

He tried to just suck it up and eat, but he could barely even taste the food through her perfume. It was thick, floral, and sharp, coating the back of his tongue until he had to swallow around the gag that threatened to slip through.

It seemed that Tammy Thompson was the outlier to the trend of previous dates, showing no signs of stopping or leaving or telling Steve they just weren’t right for each other. With every passing second he sank further and further into his seat, Eddie’s knee pressed lightly against his. Through the ordering, and the waiting, and being served, Tammy hadn't once asked Steve anything about himself. He knew that she went to the mall earlier in the week for new shoes. He knew that her cat coughed up a particularly large hairball on Tuesday that she was concerned about, but the vet was not. He knew that her friend Kim had stolen her favorite lipstick yesterday, even though she refused to admit it despite showing up to school wearing the same shade — ‘like who even does that? I can see it! I can see your face, right there, and it’s obviously my lipstick, right? — and honestly, if she kept going then Steve could picture himself just walking right out of Enzo’s without any explanation.

As the minutes passed, though, even Eddie seemed to draw tight, shifting in his seat and sitting up right — paying more attention to the conversation, or at least paying more attention to Tammy.

Her cheeks were flushed, blotchy red (that Steve had assumed at first was just an excessive amount of blush), and it was quickly spreading down her neck, under her collar, like she was overheating.

“Hey, Tammy,” Eddie cut through her detailed explanation of the movie she’d just seen last week, “Are you alright, Doll? You seem a little warm.”

The girl paused, pressing the palms of her hands to her face.

“You mind if I check?” he asked, reaching out toward her but keeping his distance until she nodded and dropped her hands. Eddie’s long, ring-clad fingers, pressed softly against her forehead, and then her cheek, and then her hand.

“My darling, you are burning up.”

“Oh, shoot,” she muttered, eyes darting over to Steve. She was nervous. That’s why she’d been talking so much, filling up the silence to distract herself. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Steve kind of felt like a dick, now. He was the alpha, he was supposed to be in tune with omegas’ needs, and yet he’d only noticed her condition when Eddie had noticed it. And sure, it was Eddie’s job to handle things like this, but Steve should have noticed sooner, instead of picking her apart.

Eddie was out of his seat before Steve had even finished assessing the situation. He’d wrapped his own hanky around her neck to dampen her pheromones, and there was nothing more for Steve to do except mutter a lame ‘it’s not your fault, no worries, get home safe’ before Eddie swiftly led Tammy through the restaurant and out the door, like a responsible chaperone was supposed to.

He wasn’t lying. It wasn’t her fault. Steve knew that heats sprang up sometimes — not everyone had a consistent cycle — but at this point he felt cursed. Three failed dates, and this time he was left completely alone, half a plate of food left that didn’t taste much like anything anymore, and no Eddie to wallow in his misery with, either.

Tossing his father’s card on the table, he slumped back in his seat to try and flag down a waiter. He didn’t even have to wait long until one came up, stopping directly at his table and handing him a loose napkin.

“The chaperone gentleman left this for you,” he said before collecting the card and walking back to the front of the restaurant.

Steve looked down.

The napkin was folded in half and inside was a hastily scrawled note in ballpoint pen, some letters misshapen and lopsided from the rush.

‘Doubled the clock again. Fourth time’s the charm? Sorry I couldn’t stick around. — Eddie’

— 4 —

Steve felt like maybe the universe was out to get him. First, his date left before ordering, then the next girl left before the food arrived, and the third girl just all of a sudden got her heat before they ate much at all. It was some kind of comic horror… comic? Cosmic. Some cosmic horror that was dead set on Steve being alone forever.

Or at least being a massive disappointment, because his father’s growing irritation was nearly a physical presence in the Harrington house, after the three failed dates. Still, Steve thought the third date had been the most disappointing out of all of them and it wasn’t because of Tammy’s abrupt departure.

He’d been tempted to go track Eddie down — to check in, to ask if everything was okay, to just… see the guy, maybe. But that didn’t quite seem right. It felt like he’d be barging in to ask work questions while Eddie was off the clock. Would he be interrupting? Would it be weird?

Robin told him he was being stupid, that it wouldn’t be weird to seek Eddie out, or just ask him flat out if he’d be Steve’s next date, but it didn’t quite sit right. Eddie was a chaperone. It was his job to be there. It didn’t feel right to bombard him outside of that.

But… maybe Steve could ask when this was all over. If the fourth date didn’t work out, maybe he could slip it into the conversation, maybe he could feel out whether Eddie would say yes to another date, one that was off the clock.

Or maybe he would be rejected twice in one night.

Either way, he found himself sitting at the same table as the previous three dates, telling himself that if they don’t make it to the end, if this girl storms out too, then he’d shoot his shot and ask Eddie out himself. He’d do it. If the date was cut short, he’d do it. Definitely.

He was still hyping himself up when Eddie strode into the dining room. He had a black button-down on, top two buttons open and loose and showing off a bit of collarbone that went straight into Steve’s bloodstream. He wanted to see more, wanted to unbutton more and see what the black fabric looked like against those hidden tattoos.

The man smirked as he got closer to the table, eyes catching on Steve’s lips before they darted away and he pulled out the opposite seat for the person behind him. A petite girl bounced up, strawberry blonde hair slicked back into a pony and a wide smile already on her face. She was cute, bubbly and cheerful in a way that none of the other girls had been.

She thanked Eddie and giggled when he offered her a deep bow, taking his seat without further ado to let them get on with it. But Steve was still caught on the little glance that Eddie’d darted to his lips, just for a moment, just for a second before he looked away, and Steve felt bad about how much he wanted to chase that look, despite the girl sitting across from him.

“Hi!” she chirped, sticking her hand out over the table.

Steve grasped it gently for just a moment, “Hi, nice to meet you. Chrissy, right?”

“Yep! I was a little nervous to be here. I’ve never been to this place before, believe it or not.”

“Enzo’s?” she nodded, ponytail bouncing. “Well, do you like Italian food?”

“Oh no, it’s Italian?” he face sank, smile nowhere to be seen, and Steve tensed in his seat. She’d been so bubbly just a second ago, and sure Steve expected this date to crash and burn like the others, but he didn’t expect it to be over the food. Everyone knew Enzo’s was Italian, he was pretty sure the sign even said ‘Italian Restaurant’ but maybe he was wrong? Maybe it wasn’t well-known? Should he have asked, or—

But his thoughts were cut off by her laughter. She laughed sharp and high, like a bell tinkling through the air.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she assured — smile back on her face like it had never left, like he’d hallucinated her face growing paler and her eyes going wide. “Of course I like Italian food, who doesn’t?”

He tried to offer a laugh in return, though he wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded, “Hah, right, that’s great.” He cleared his throat, “Have you ever thought of being an actor? ‘Cause you really had me going there for a second.”

She blushed — just a little bit, just a normal amount, and not a heat induced amount, thankfully — and shrugged her shoulders, reaching out to fiddle with the napkin in front of her. “Sorry, I thought I could break the tension, not make it worse.”

“No, no, it was cute.” The word slipped out by accident, but he liked the smile she gave him in return. It was soft, dainty like she was, as if she hadn’t expected a compliment at all, as if she wasn’t used to them. Chrissy was beautiful, he’d been the most drawn to her photo when his father had laid them out in front of him. Kind eyes, that’s what he saw, and he still saw them as she smiled and sat a little straighter in her seat.

“So, what do you usually get? Any suggestions?” she asked, flipping through the menu but not really settling on anything.

Chrissy was easy to talk to, always asking questions, always extending the conversation into other topics. She laughed easily, and leaned in to get closer when Steve said something nice. She didn’t scoff, didn’t roll her eyes, and she didn’t mention a boyfriend of any kind. So far, this was the best date of them all, and on the surface it should have made him feel confident in this choice. It should have made him think about second dates and maybe more, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on the side of his face, or the heat of him against his arm.

Quickly, subtly (he hoped), Steve glanced over the moment Chrissy laughed again, flicking his eyes to the side to catch Eddie’s expression. He was usually smirking, usually leaned back with his arms crossed like he was relaxing at the beach and not taunting from the sidelines.

His arms were still crossed, but they were tight over his chest and Steve couldn’t see a smirk because Eddie was looking away, staring down at the carpet beneath Chrissy’s feet.

“So, Eddie,” Chrissy turned to him next, inviting him into the conversation like he was always meant to participate, “is this like a full-time job or a side thing?”

He blinked at her, sitting up in surprise, but he didn’t look back over to Steve. 

“Uh, just a side thing.”

“Is it fun?”

“Not usually, no. But sometimes it’s not bad.” Eddie finally flicked his eyes over to Steve for a brief moment before catching Chrissy’s gaze once more. She looked genuinely interested, leaning forward on her elbow and ignoring how awkward Eddie seemed to be.

“What do you like to do when you’re not watching people try to impress each other?”

“You know, you don’t have to ask me questions. This is your date, not mine.”

“Yeah, but ignoring you while you just hover there seems weird.”

Eddie chuckled, relaxing just a bit more into his seat again, but still not meeting Steve’s eye.

“It’s not hovering, it’s chaperoning, Sweetheart.”

“Chaperone-shmaperone, are there any rules against talking to you?”

“No, but—”

“Well then, by all means I’ll talk to who I want to talk to.” She nodded her head, hair bouncing with her, as if saying ‘and that’s, that’ and there was no more to say on the matter.

It was nice, including Eddie. Or at least, it would have been nice if Eddie hadn’t been ignoring him the entire time. It felt, for a bit, like Steve was the voyeur on this date as he stared holes into the side of  Eddie’s head, in some weird kind of role-reversal.

He liked Chrissy. Chrissy was nice; Chrissy was kind and sweet and funny, and she played along to Eddie’s weird bits like she knew where they were going, like she fit with his weirdness. Steve should be having a great time, getting to know her better and fitting himself into the conversation, but he just couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that stabbed through him every time she made Eddie laugh or he brought out another goofy character to see her giggle.

Maybe the worst thing that could happen tonight wasn’t just that the date would tank, and Eddie would reject him. Maybe the worst thing that could happen was Eddie and Chrissy hitting it off and leaving Steve to wallow in four failed dates and one that never got a chance.

Participating was hard as his jealousy creeped up his neck, but it was the only way he could put himself between her and Eddie. He felt like a guard dog, marking his territory like a loser, except Eddie wasn’t his to guard. He kept waiting for Chrissy to get bored, for her to get an emergency call or some kind of forgotten appointment, but still nothing came to interrupt.

Through dinner and dessert, through laughs and good conversation, he practically begged for an actual curse to be real and cut this short.

But no dice. They made it to the end, no emergencies, no abrupt departure, they made it the whole way through.

Steve walked Chrissy out the door and all the way to the parking lot, Eddie trailing behind. He was quiet now, leaving them space to talk without him — a true chaperone figure looming twenty feet behind.

Once they reached the van Steve assumed was Eddie’s, Chrissy turned and gave him one more pretty smile, cheeks flushed and rosy. She had to stand on her tip-toes to throw her arms around his shoulders. It was tame, platonic in the way that hugs with Robin were, but it was nice, comforting.

“You know,” she whispered into his ear, “You can just ask him out if you really want to.”

He pulled back to look at her, surprised, “I’m not sure I—”

“Eddie,” she winked, patting him on the shoulder. She didn’t step away, kept her arms around him, and it felt like maybe she was trying to stage something more suggestive. Her eyes flicked toward the beta, but she kept her head turned toward Steve, gesturing subtly enough to keep Eddie from catching on. “I could tell you wanted to talk to him. Kinda felt like I shouldn’t have been there.”

“Ah, I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no worries!” she cut him off again, plowing forward without his input, “I think you should go for it. You’re both really nice, but I’m not really ready to date anyone right now.”

“You still made it through the whole date,” he muttered, “That’s more than most.”

“Well, leaving would be rude. Plus, you’re nice, like I said. I had a good time, I promise!”  She nodded — still smiley, still bouncy and cheerful despite her turning him down — and stepped away.

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” he asked quietly. He wanted to look over, to catch the other man’s eye and feel that warmth in his skin, but he held back, kept his eyes on Chrissy instead.

“I think he’d be stupid not to. But I definitely think he’ll say yes.”

He could just make out Eddie in his peripheral, starting toward them again now that Chrissy had let go.

“If you need my help,” she whispered, keeping her voice low as their watcher closed the distance, “just let me know.”

They shared one last smile as Eddie opened the van, helping her inside with a steady arm. He didn’t offer any parting words to Steve, didn’t reach out for a hug of his own or give a salute like a dork or even catch his eye with a smile, avoiding him like he had for most of the night.

Maybe he did need help from Chrissy. Maybe Eddie wouldn’t say yes if he asked right now, given how distant he’d become for some unknown reason.

But there was one way Steve was sure to see Eddie again. One place he knew Eddie would show up, despite his sudden coldness, and it would be easy to set up if Chrissy really helped him like she said she would. 

This wouldn’t be the last time he’d have to book a chaperone, if things went to plan.

— +1 —

Steve was nervous as he sat at the table he kind of thought of as his at this point. Same table, same view as he waited, but he was hoping for a better outcome this time. Chrissy told him she’d let Eddie know to meet her there, that she didn’t need to be picked up, and it was a little bit exciting to pull one over on the man, to catch him off guard.

He hoped Eddie wouldn’t be too mad. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should call the whole thing off before Eddie arrived and tell Chrissy it was a bust. He was so tempted to run, cut his losses here and be free of the rejection until his father slapped more headshots in front of him, but he didn’t even get the chance to move before the man in question was strolling toward the table.

He looked confident as always, limbs loose and sure of himself, despite how out-of-place he looked amongst the flickering candles and cocktail-dressed patrons. He looked like he couldn’t tell red wine from dessert wine, but that didn’t matter as he stepped up beside the table with a quirk of his eyebrow, glancing toward the still-empty seat.

“Chrissy not here yet?”

Steve shook his head, standing to direct Eddie to the seat across from him, instead of the one he usually took as chaperone.

“Chrissy’s not coming.”

“What do you mean Chrissy’s not coming?”

“I mean…” Steve sighed, only sitting down once Eddie had taken his seat, even though he eyed Steve with caution, like this was a trap or a trick. “I mean that this being a second date is just a ruse for my dad.”

“And I’m here because…?”

“Because I’ve been on three terrible dates, three awful dates that barely even qualify as dates, and one date that was fine, but it wasn’t who I wanted to spend the night with.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side, hair draping over his shoulder in a way that made Steve want to reach out, to tuck it behind his ear or twirl it around his finger. He wanted to know what it was like to have Eddie Munson in the palm of his hand. He didn’t want to hang out with him under the pretense of another chaperone job, despite him still using Chrissy as an excuse for his father.

“Well who did you want to spend it with then? Why isn’t she here?”

“There is no ‘she’,” Steve cleared his throat, pulling the napkin into his lap just for something to do with his hands. Eddie wasn’t dense. He figured Eddie would get it, would know what he was talking about, but maybe he needed to spell it out a bit more.

“Listen, even though the dates kind of sucked… or… well, really sucked, I still had fun. You were fun. I liked talking to you and having dinner with you, and hanging out.”

“Dunno, Harrington, you looked pretty cozy with Chrissy the other day.”

“Sure, Chris is nice and all, but uh… I was really hoping some emergency would pop up and cut it short.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, not that I want there to be an emergency, just that, like, if there was an emergency, then she would leave and maybe you would stay and we could like… talk… more,” he cringed at himself, wondering where all that alleged Harrington Charm had gone when he needed it most. He felt like a bumbling idiot.

But then Eddie softened in his seat, smirk growing the more Steve could feel blood rushing to his cheeks. He hoped the candle light was too dim to see it, that the low-light would hide his flaming cheeks and save him the embarrassment, but the way that Eddie’s smile grew made him think he wasn’t so lucky.

“Why, Harrington, who knew you had such strong feelings about little ol’ me,” he teased.

“Listen, I just… I’m trying to ask if you’d like to be my date? Now? Tonight?”

It was torture, sitting in the quiet dining room, waiting for Eddie to respond. He kind of wanted to flinch away, like Eddie was gearing up for a fight even though he knew that wasn’t something the man would do. He waited for an eternity, or maybe just a minute or two, until Eddie’s smirk thawed into something warmer, sweeter.

He leaned forward over the small table, catching Steve’s eye before deliberately darting his eyes down to his lips.

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