#fairest

It’s Valentine’s Day and Steve does not have a crush on Eddie Munson. He just really wants to do his hair, okay?

It’s just. 

It’s so long, and its so curly. The sun hits it just right and among the shimmering autumn coils he can see fairy knots, brambles, and little rat’s nests. It’s driving Steve crazy because-

Can’t Eddie feel that? 

Can’t he feel the tugging at the nape of his neck?

Doesn’t he feel the disproportional weight on his back, neck, and shoulders?

Doesn’t he get headaches from the strain?

All of these thoughts flit through his mind and suddenly he can feel the weight of several eyes upon him, the atmosphere still as if a voiced question was left unanswered. 

He blinks and straightens up in his seat, finds he was leaning on his elbow staring at Eddie for a pointed amount of time. Steve hopes that his face wasn’t as loud as his thoughts were but judging by the owlish look on Eddie’s face, he’s sure that a blind and deaf man would know something wasn’t right. 

Eddie blinks rapidly, his stupid long lashes fluttering and almost tangling with his overgrown fringe. He blows a quick stream of air upwards to get stray curls out of his eye line-

And that’s part of what started this whole thing stupid staring contest to begin with!!

Eddie is leaned over the table, drawing or writing something that Steve is unable to make out since he left his beside his bed this morning. Everything was blurry, except Eddie’s curls spilling all over the place. Even the sun decided to shine behind him, mocking Steve as it highlighted more tangles that made Steve’s fingers itch to run through and pick apart. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is as deep and smooth like melted butterscotch, with an inky eyebrow arched and peeking through the tangled brush of his fringe. 

God, the amount of effort it takes not to reach forward and tuck a stray curl behind Eddie’s adorned ear was so intense, that Steve clenched his hands. 

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, then remembering that’s what his mom used to do when she was displeased with his appearance, so he quickly wipes the look away. 

It’s not like he doesn’t like the way that Eddie’s looks. That’s far from the issue at hand, in fact, Steve really likes-

Steve’s thoughts are running away with him again. He huffs at himself in irritation before he starts. 

“Look, I know this is going to sound… I don’t know what its going to sound like, actually,” Steve sighs wearily. Eddie' straightens up in curiosity, and more curls tumble down front he pencil pick he shoved into the pile of hair at the tops of his head. 

Steve stifles a quiet scream in his throat because one lock-

One. Singular. Lock. Was dangling from the very top, corkscrewing its way down in a perfect spiral and brushing Eddie’s cheek and neck. 

Steve wraps his foot around the leg of his chair tightly to ensure he doesn’t just lean over and fix it. 

Some part of his hind brain is howling, like it can’t seem to handle the pale column of Eddie’s admittedly distracting neck with dark curls tumbling around like inky wisps. 

Eddie’s like a broken and cracked statue brought to life and Steve knows that’s a little…

Intense. Weird. Possibly a bit fruity. He's coming to terms with it.

What he's not coming to terms with is Eddie's hair."

…..

Eddie’s hair is just bugging Steve. That’s all it is. So he just decides to shelve the immediate inward kicking and screaming, and just blurts out what’s bugging him-

“I really want to fix your hair.”

Eddie’s brows draw together for a moment, Steve can see a small pinch of his large eyes, narrowing at him in slight suspicion. Steve throws his hands up, “Not that its bad! I mean, its really tangled, I don’t know how you can stand it, but its driving me crazy so I can only imagine how it feels because if I’m going crazy just looking at it then its gotta feel-”

“You know its funny, even when Buckley isn’t here right now, I can still hear her. Like do you guys practice the babble when the rest of us aren’t around or something?” Eddie asks, leaning his head on his hand, causing more hair to unwind from his precariously poised pencil. The ends are brushing against the paper he’s working on, and all Steve can think about is that now his hair is going to smell like pencil lead. 

Steve realizes he’s been caught staring again and scoffs, “Oh har- har. Very funny. Spend enough time with someone and you’re bound to pick up some quirks from each other- anyway that’s not the point! You’re distracting me.”

“I believe its my hair that’s distracting you, but please do go on,” Eddie’s smile is blinding, like a wolf baring his teeth. Steve can even see his prominent incisors, fangs so white and sharp behind his dusky pink lips. 

Steve rolls his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest and pulse thumping in his tight throat. His hands are burning to plunge into that messy mop of hair. He crosses his arms on top of the table and leans forward to ask, “Can I fix your hair?”

Eddie’s smile dims a little, and he straightens up in his seat. His arms draw together, not so much crossing but more like holding himself. He looks uncertain, on guard, like the way he would look at Steve when they first knew each other, when Eddie was sure that Steve was an asshole.

It takes a few moments for Eddie to respond before he asks, “You’re not going to like… cut it are you?”

“NO!” Steve grimaces at his outburst, then softens his tone, “No not at all. I just want to help, if that’s okay? I know that lifting things might be difficult with your physical therapy and all. I want to help if I can, if you would let me.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, looking around Steve’s dining room. The kids were playing in the livingroom, watching slasher movies and stuffing themselves with discount candy Eddie brought with him. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan were in the kitchen making dessert to go with he pizza that Argyle brought over. No one was paying any attention to Steve or Eddie, no one was around to hear. 

Eddie swallows thickly, then nods, “O-okay. Okay, yeah, you can mess with my hair. But like, alone? I-I don’t want anyone to walk in on us.”

Steve understands. Hair is a big deal to people, it holds memory, its a status thing. People had many opinions about hair, and the upkeep it involves. There’s a certain kind of shame that people hold when they need help, especially when its something so seemingly simple. And maybe Eddie’s never really had anyone that’s wanted to touch him. Or his hair. 

Interesting thoughts…

Steve needs to take a clarifying breath here, more to tone down whatever it is deep, deep, deep inside of him that is suddenly waking up and paying attention. He places his palms on the table and gazes seriously into Eddie’s nervous ones, “I promise you that no one is going to bother us, I’m going to let the guys know we’ll be incommunicado for a while. I’ll be right back.”

Before Eddie can open his mouth to back out, Steve is already in the kitchen to let the other young adults know what they'll be doing. He ignores Jonathan’s soft snort, Nancy elbowing her… whatever they are now, and Robin’s soft squeal of happiness and instead goes back into the dining room to fetch Eddie. 

He tilts his head to the stairs, taking a step and holding his hand out to Eddie who seems to shrink in on himself. The brunette looks up the stairs silently, but takes Steve’s hand for assistance. He seems to tremble, his hand feeling as light and fragile as it did in the hospital though its been almost a whole year since he was released. 

Maybe the fragility and tremors was because of everything that he went through; the demobat attack, the extraction, his coma, then subsequent questioning by the authorities and his release. Eddie stayed to himself most of the time, and would only go out with a few trusted people in their circle. The town that was meant to be home isn’t a comfort anymore, if it ever was for him. 

People stared. 

Eddie didn’t come out of the hospital unscathed. He was missing a nipple, and had more bite marks and heavy scarring than he did smooth skin over the rest of his limbs. Eddie felt like a stitched together monster, and had even said as such once only to be admonished by everyone gathered. 

Steve understood then, as he does now, that even though people may say one thing, that Eddie feels differently. 

So he stays silent when Eddie shies into his side, while they take the stairs one at a time, and Eddie lets out frustrated and pained sounds as each steps pulls and tugs at his thick scars. Steve knows he hasn’t been stretching as often as he should, doesn’t rub the beneficial oil into his skin to soften the thick scarring. He only logs all of this information away, whispering soft encouragement as they ascend. If fixing Eddie’s hair goes well, maybe Eddie would let Steve give him a massage-

Like friends do. Right. 

They get to the top of the stairs, and pause. Steve lets Eddie gets his labored breathing under control, even rubs at his arm to quell his trembling. Steve catches Eddie’s eye for his friend to nod slightly before he opens his door. 

He braces himself because he knows what’s coming-

“Holy plaid, Batman!” 

Steve chuckles soundlessly as he shuts his bedroom door, locking it silently for safety. He nudges his friend along until they get to his bathroom. He lets Eddie stay near the counter where there’s a double sink and a large mirror, with scones along each side to shed golden light along all the surfaces. Steve rolls his computer chair into the bathroom flush against the counter, and sets the brakes so that it doesn’t roll around on them. 

Finally he gathers all the things he knows he’s going to need: hair oil, shampoo, deep conditioner, and enough combs to start his own salon. He smiles at the spread, rubbing his hands together in absolute glee at getting the chance to play with Eddie’s hair. 

He steps back from the counter and gestures to the chair, “Your throne?”

Eddie looks from the chair to Steve, “Are you asking me or are you telling me?”

Steve huffs, setting his hands on his hips bitchily, “Just get in the damn chair.”

His friend snickers as he gingerly eases into the chair while Steve grabs a couple of towels from his closet. After he sets his bundle on the counter beside the sink he spins Eddie around to face the mirror. “Man I feel like I’m in a real salon.”

Steve smiles at their reflection, drumming his fingers on the back of the chair near his shoulders, “Few people know how seriously I take this stuff.”

“I’ll take your secrets to my grave.” Eddie vows solemnly with a hand to his chest. 

Steve arches an eyebrow, fighting and failing to keep from giggling, “See that you do.”

The room falls silent save for careful breathing as Steve is finally able to touch Eddie’s hair. He plucks the pencil… and two pens… out of the mess of curls, his throat growing tighter as the sheer mass of curls tumble down Eddie’s shoulders, covering but a sliver of his face. He blinks down and wonders if Eddie’s even had a chance to really do anything to it since he got home. 

“Wow…”

Eddie lets out a breath through his nose, seeming to deflate a little, “I know… its a mess. It’s just really hard to keep my arms up for that long. I try to just wash and rinse what I can before I tire out.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulders gently, hearing but ignoring the sharp gasp his touch elicits. He smiles sympathetically at Eddie’s reflection, “I completely understand. I just meant that I never realized that you have a lot of hair.”

Eddie relaxes, his smile is small but its good to see anyway. He doesn’t want Eddie to feel any sort of negative way about his hair. It’s gorgeous, long and soft, thick and springy. Soon, he’s so focused on picking through Eddie’s tangled curls that he barely hears the soft gasping, the quiet labored breath, can barely notice the subtle shifting. 

Barely. Steve still notices, and though it makes a part of him cheer a little inside, he’s not here for that. 

Yet. 

Steve works diligently through his hair, but its when his fingers get caught that he freezes. 

Time kind of stands still because through the roaring of the blood in Steve’s ears he can hear a soft grunt as he accidentally pulls a lock of hair. He whispers and apology, hears a soft assurance in answer, but now the air is… charged. Weighted, anticipation thick. 

There’s a definite shift, like the Earth’s axis was skewed the moment Steve’s hands plunged into Eddie’s inky tresses. If he were to be honest with himself, Steve would say that the shift had happened after Lover’s Lake when they walked together through the Upside Down. 

Even though Steve was cold, his toes frozen and sore, his whole body aching, he still found a smile whilst Eddie trotted alongside him. Eddie’s feral energy, his intensity made the horrors of their surroundings fade away. When that warmth was thought to be finally snuffed out, Steve couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t show his relief when Eddie was brought to the hospital. 

It was when he found himself curled up in the darkened stairwell, sobbing into his knees that he could finally admit that he felt a little more than friendship for the metalhead. 

Steve wasn’t great with words, he messed shit up all the time when he had to sound poetical. If his reputation was anything to go by then maybe he could let his body to the talking for him. Actions spoke louder anyway, and Robin mentioned something about acts of service being important. He extracts his fingers, confident that he can get the rest of the tangles out with a deep conditioner, then looks at Eddie in the mirror. 

His eyes are huge, his face completely flushed which makes Steve wonder if he’s not feeling-

Ohh.

Oh, right. 

Steve’s eyes beg to drift down to check, a huge part of him already knowing the effects hands in one’s hair would affect someone. 

Instead he starts the water, making sure its warm and not too chilled. When he’s satisfied with the temperature of the water, he spins Eddie’s chair around. He lifts Eddie’s hair to let it tumble into the sink basin, staring down into Eddie’s upturned face. The floor seems to drop out from beneath Steve, feels like he’s diving into forever looking in Eddie’s eyes. Their sparkle looks like endless stars and before Steve realizes it, he’s cradling Eddie’s head in his hands, his thumbs brushing along his cheekbones. 

Steve sucks in a breath and smoothly gathers the rest of Eddie’s hair. His stomach twists at the thought of what he almost did, he could feel himself leaning forward to kiss his friend, his Eddie-

His best friend, Eddie. 

He shakes his head to clear out the murky thoughts crawling through his mind, now isn’t the time for that. Steve hopes that maybe later…

Later would have to wait, however.

He gets Eddie’s hair wet, checking to see his face relax into happy bliss. If he thinks its nice now, Steve can’t wait to see how Eddie reacts to one of his world class scalp massages. 

Steve quickly learns that he vastly underestimated his resolve because the soft groans emanating from Eddie’s softly parted lips would tempt a saint to sin. Every move of his thumbs along Eddie’s temples and behind his ears, his friend would let out a whimper, a moan, the sound of the running water barely covering the sounds. He bites his lip as he could feel Eddie’s rumbling groan when he rinses out the suds. 

He gets through the conditioner with minimal need to adjust… anything. He lets the conditioner sit while he goes through his combs, working out each tangle and bramble efficiently. Steve finds a sort of zen doing things like this, he likes to help. Helping others feel good about their appearance was a whole other level of comfort as well, maybe he could think about doing this for a living maybe. 

After about twenty minutes, Steve is sure that he’s completely finished. He grabs a towel, wrapping the wet tresses carefully and looks down to see that Eddie was dozing. He strokes his thumb over Eddie’s eyebrow, smiling at his eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. 

Steve remembers a story he heard a long time ago, where a beautiful dark-haired princess was poisoned with a comb, her ribs crushed by a corset, and finally an apple- all because she was beautiful, lively, and kind. They couldn’t find it in them to bury her, instead enclosing her in a glass coffin so they could keep her beautiful forever. A wayward prince had wandering passed, hearing her friends singing their grief and he was so struck by her beauty, he was compelled to give her a kiss upon her blood red lips. For her, it was the kiss of life, and they fell in love to later be married.

Looking down at this tableau, with Eddie’s inky hair flowing through his fingers, his pale skin and blood-red lips Steve feels…

Like there’s only so much time they have now, you know?

So little time to talk things through, to make sure that the timing is right, that they both want this. With every single beat of his heart he can feel himself falling more and more, he doesn’t want to deny or deflect any longer. He takes a deep breath, leans down, closes his eyes and presses his lips lightly to Eddie’s.

They’re so soft, every bit as soft as his hair. They’re warm, and when they part in a soft gasp it gives Steve a chance to nibble Eddie’s bottom lip just a little. 

He leans back, watching as Eddie’s eyes open to reveal the stars once more. Steve can see the cogs turning in that big brain, watches happily as they flit from thought to different emotions. Eddie blinks, smiles tentatively before he whispers, “Oh my prince, I was lost in the woods and yet you’ve found me.”

“I found you,” Steve assures, “Stay with me?”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight, tomorrow, every day. Is that too much?”

Steve knows he can be far too much, has been told so many times and he hope with everything in him that he’s not asking for too much this time.

“Gladly.”

Their kiss this time is far less chaste. They don’t even hear the front door shut. 

~*~*~*~