Live wire. Spark. Those are the names Eddie and Volt call you, that steal your breath and bring a flush to your face every time. But what do you call them to make their hearts race in return?
The name that gets Eddie’s pulse pounding is ‘sweetheart.’ The first time you call him that, he honestly doesn’t think you’re talking to him. He’s a few steps up on a ladder, fixing a flickering bulb, when he hears you.
“You aren’t overworking yourself again, are you, sweetheart?” You’re leaning in the open doorway, arms crossed but smiling fondly. Eddie has the urge to look around the room, check to see who’s hiding in the shadows that you must be speaking to. Instead, he continues working.
“Sweetheart? I know you aren’t talking to me,” he replies, not looking away from his task. He hears your footsteps enter the room.
“And if I said I was?” Your voice carries a teasing lilt. He feels your hand come to a gentle rest on his leg.
“I’d say you need to get your head checked,” he chuckles a little, but nonetheless climbs down and kisses your temple. He’s expecting a laugh from you, but instead you’re pouting. All of a sudden you’re listing the many reasons you have for truly believing him to be a grade A sweetheart, and despite his internal disagreement, he’s starting to blush.
“Stoooop,” he interrupts you, unable to meet your eyes. “Alright, alright. I get it. You think I’m the sweetest man alive. Maybe I’ve been too nice to you.” He doesn’t protest when you press a kiss to his cheek, and from then on he has no retorts lined up when you call him ‘sweetheart.’
Volt has an odd affection for being called ‘pretty boy.’ The first time you call him that, you’re leaving the club for the night after the show. Volt always insists on walking you to the door, a hand on the small of your back.
“Goodnight, pretty boy,” you say, voice saccharine and adoring. You cup his cheek and tug him toward you to give him a kiss. His face heats up and he lets out a pleased hum against your lips.
Volt has never been given a pet name from you that he doesn’t like, to be fair. Normally he just turns them right back around on you. Like whenever you call him ‘gorgeous.’ He preens like a peacock and says “You think I’m gorgeous, live wire? No wonder we look so good together; we match.~” But something about ‘pretty boy’ tickles his heart. When you pull away from the kiss, you spot his blushing cheeks and give him a wink. He wonders if this is what it’s like to get a taste of his own medicine.
It isn’t until later, laying in bed, that Volt figures out why he likes the new name so much. He listens to the soft snores of the man beside him and realizes it’s because you sound so Eddie-like when you call him that. It’s evidence of how the two of them have rubbed off on you. Eddie’s sweet snark, Volt’s loving teasing…you’ve picked up their habits. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.
There is one pet name that works equally on both of the boys, with each having different reasons for liking it: ‘my love.’
Eddie is finally getting used to you calling him sweetheart when you hit him with a whole new dose of unbearable softness. He’s passing you a drink he whipped up when you say it.
“Thank you, my love.” Love. Yes, you’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other by now, but…something about such a casual admittance of devotion makes Eddie freeze in place. You call him ‘love’ with ease, like the feelings you have for him are baked into your being, as much a part of you as any organ. Like it’s natural. And that means more than anything.
“What did you call me?” He asks, trying not to choke on air. His tone isn’t accusatory. It’s…soft. Full of astonishment, almost. Your responding smile is sweet and mischievous at the same time.
“My love. I mean, isn’t that what you are? My love?” Fuck. Eddie’s face burns a ruby hue and he has to resist the urge to hide his face in his hands. You can hear him mumble an ‘amp’s sake’ under his breath before he leans over the bar to give you a quick kiss. He can’t formulate the words to thank you right now, but he knows you’ll grasp his meaning. You always do.
Volt is slow dancing with you when you give him the new pet name, and with it send a new jolt through his circuits. He gives you a smooth twirl, relishing your laugh, as the current tune comes to an end.
“One more song?” His eyes gleam at you, joyful and eager.
“Always, my love,” you reply, smiling at him. A new song starts, and you go to move, but Volt’s hands move to grip your waist and keep you still. Meeting his gaze again, you come face to face with the brightest grin you’ve ever seen on him. He laughs, full of mirth, and lifts you off the ground, spinning you around. Your laughter mixes with his. When he sets you back down, he tugs you to his chest.
“Sweet spark,” he says softly, burying his flushed face in the side of your neck and nuzzling the skin there. “How delightful it is to be yours.” You rub little circles on his upper back with your fingers and say you didn’t realize he’d like that one so much!
Little do you know, a ‘my’ in front of any name you call him is enough to have him on his knees. Being yours is all he wants to be.
