Chapter Text
“So we’re both in agreement that Eddie Munson is like weirdly attractive now, right?”
Robin stares at Steve like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. And okay, that was kind of out of the blue. Except it wasn’t because it’s all Steve has been able to think about lately and it’s driving him crazy and he has to get it off his chest before he explodes.
“Steve,” she says his name slowly, like he needs an interpreter, “Steve, I’m pretty sure I’ve made it clear that Eddie is not my type.”
“Yeah, duh!” Steve spreads his hands to convey how obvious that is, “That’s my point. Like, you’re gay but even you have to have noticed how hot he is! I mean, I’m straight but he is like… he’s- have you seen him smile, Robin?”
Robin is looking at him with a strange expression, curious and fond and… something else that Steve can’t define, “Um. Well, yes I’ve seen him smile. It’s- it’s a good smile.”
Good? Steve pushes a hand into his hair, feeling more manic than ever because she just doesn’t seem to get it. That smile is like sunshine after weeks of overcast, it’s like a long hug on a bad day, that smile has taken up permanent residence in his head and he can’t stop seeing it whenever he closes his eyes.
“It’s a great smile, Robin!” Steve insists, “and it’s not just his smile, what about his eyes? They way they like, sparkle when he talks shit or makes fun of Dustin?”
Robin is biting back a smirk now, “I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention. To Eddie’s sparkly eyes.” She coughs, to cover a laugh, “So anyway… have you talked to him at all, since everything went down?”
Steve crumples forward against the counter, “Not really. I’ve picked up the kids after their D and D things a few times and like, waved to him when he was taking off but.. I don’t know, man. Like, would it be weird for me to just ask him to hang out? It’s not like we have anything in common.”
“You almost died together. He helped save your life, he lent you his vest, you fought a freaky wizard monster together,” Robin raises a finger for each item, “You’re both practically raising Dustin, you both grew up in Hawkins…” she’s flagging now, “You both… have magnificent hair!”
Steve snorts, ignoring the fluttery swoop in his belly at the thought of Eddie’s wild yet delicate curls, “Okay, so maybe we have a few things in common.” He grabs a package of gum from the counter and fidgets with it, “So- so you do think I should ask him to hang out?”
Robin shrugs, “Yeah, why not? I’m sure the guy could use the company.”
Which is a good point, since at least half the town is still convinced that he’s a murderer and the rest still think he’s a weirdo satan-worshipping freak.
“Yeah. Yeah, like it doesn’t have to be a big deal, right?” Steve doesn’t know why he’s trying to convince Robin of this, since she clearly doesn’t think it’s a big deal, “But.. but how do I- do I just like, show up at his house with beer or what? Should I call first?”
Robin is giving him that odd look again, like she’s seeing him for the first time and something about it makes him feel… exposed.
“How about the next time you see him after D and D, you ask what he’s up to later?” Robin suggests, finally, “So it doesn’t seem too random.”
Okay, yeah. Yeah, he can do that. Just… ask him what he’s up to later. Maybe they can go to that bar that Eddie said he plays at, what was it called? The Hideaway? Unbidden, the image of Eddie onstage, guitar slung low across his hips enters Steve’s mind; slightly sweaty, wild hair disheveled, dark shirt artfully torn to expose the tattoo on his collarbone. Steve shakes his head, dispelling the vision as heat rises in his cheeks. What the hell is going on with him?
Before he can examine that thought too closely, the door jangles obnoxiously, announcing their first customer of the day and Steve puts on his customer service face.
~~~
Steve drums nervously on his steering wheel as he waits for D&D to finish up. He got here, admittedly, way too early and now sitting in the darkened parking lot outside the school is kind of giving him the creeps. He glances at the dashboard clock, and wonders if he should just go inside but before he can make a decision, the big metal door clunks open and a gaggle of teenagers pours out. Steve watches anxiously as Dustin, Mike, Max and Lucas appear followed by a pair of older kids he vaguely remembers but can’t put a name to… then, at last, Eddie’s silhouette emerges, somehow larger than life in spite of the other man’s slim build.
He spreads his arms, gathering the group around and speaking dynamically, probably about something that Steve wouldn’t understand a word of. He still wishes he was closer. Eddie’s ringed fingers pat the kids’ shoulders bracingly and he turns toward his van.
Shit.
Steve scrambles to get out of his BMW, kicking it open more aggressively than he intended, ignoring Dustin’s greeting as he jogs over to catch Eddie before he vanishes again. He arrives at the van door, just as the engine roars to life, and raises a hand to knock on the window. Eddie jumps in his seat, dark eyes going huge and startled for a second before he clutches his chest and laughs. He rolls down the window, still chuckling breathlessly. Steve tries not to think about why his knees have gone all wobbly at the sound.
“Jesus Harrington, you scared the shit out of me, man!” Eddie grins, rings clicking on the window frame as he watches Steve curiously, “So… what’s up?”
Steve realizes that he’s just staring, his mouth is even open, fuck, “Uh, right. I Uh, well, I just was wondering if you, I dunno, wanna hang out sometime? Like tonight maybe?” Steve hates how nervous he sounds, jeez has it been this long since he’s had a conversation with a guy his own age? “Or whenever, no pressure just- just thought, y’know… We should hang out sometime..”
Eddie’s head is tilted slightly as he watches Steve fumble his way through the most awkward invitation in the history of ever, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, making his eyes crinkle, “I gotta tell ya, that’s the last thing I was expecting you to say, Harrington.”
Steve’s surname rolls off Eddie’s tongue like it’s a royal title. But not in a good way.
“So.. what were you expecting then?” He wonders aloud.
“Dunno, maybe for you to tell me off for corrupting the kids-“ Steve snorts at that, “-Or maybe to return my favourite denim vest.”
Steve’s eyes widen. Oh. “Shit, I’m sorry man, I totally forgot about that.” Lies. Steve has looked at it every night for weeks. He even tried it on a couple of times since, and stared at his reflection. It didn’t suit him at all, but on Eddie… On Eddie it just worked. “I’ll bring it by tonight if you want?”
Those dark eyes shine in the dim glow of the dashboard, “Sounds like a plan… Steve.”
He reaches down to put the van in gear and Steve steps away, feeling a weird mix of relief and nerves, “Right, cool. Tonight then. Cool.”
Steve watches the tail lights disappear around the corner until several impatient voices finally burst through his haze of distraction.
“Steeeeevvvee! Hey! Steve! Earth to Steve!”
He doesn’t get paid enough for this. Which is to say, he doesn’t get paid at all for this. “Keep your pants on, Henderson, Jesus.”
Dustin, ever the smartass, retorts, “Hey, you’re the one who’s standing there in a trance, we thought you’d been Vecna’d or something!”
“Shut up, I was not,” Steve hates that he’s definitely blushing right now and hopes it’s too dark for them to see, “Just get in the car, you ungrateful little shits, before I start charging you for gas.”
The reminder of their free ride seems to do the trick and they all clamber into his car, mumbling a few grudging “thanks Steves”.
~~~
Steve is freaking out.
He knows its ridiculous, it’s not like this is a date or anything - not that Steve “the Hair” Harrington gets nervous on dates - so why the hell is he losing it so hard right now? He yanks the powder blue polo over his head, because it will definitely earn a teasing comment, and the thought of Eddie teasing him makes him feel kind of warm all over, but also he desperately wants Eddie to… he doesn’t know, exactly. He wants to look cool. In case Eddie decides he wants to go out drinking or whatever, so Steve doesn’t look totally out of place.
His eyes fall on the denim vest that he’s definitely going to have to return tonight. Steve reaches into his closet again and pulls out a plain black undershirt. He fixes his hair and looks at himself, the black shirt is a bit too tight and his jeans have a weird stain on the knee, probably from some sort of monster goo. Whatever. He grabs the vest and heads outside before he can second guess himself again.
It’s after nine when he pulls up next to Eddie’s van. He takes a deep breath and gathers up the vest and the 12 pack he had brought, hoping it would serve as an icebreaker.
Eddie pops the door open before Steve has a chance to knock, his easy grin rocking Steve back on his heels.
“Hey, you made it!” He looks surprised, but pleasantly so, Steve hopes, “I thought I’d never see that vest again.”
Right, he’s happy to get his vest back. Steve forces a laugh as he offers the vest, “Yeah, I brought your precious vest, Munson,” he raises the other hand, “I also brought beer, if you’re interested?”
Eddie bows dramatically, hair tumbling forward over his shoulders, “Welcome to my humble abode, Harrington.”
Steve rolls his eyes and follows Eddie into the small living space.
Eddie removes two bottles and shoves the case into the fridge unceremoniously. “So I don’t mean to make this weird, or anything but-“ he pops both beers open effortlessly and offers one to Steve, “-what exactly are you doing here, Steve?”
Steve freezes, mid-swig, until the suds tickle his nose and he’s forced to lower the bottle and suppress a cough, “Uh, do you- do you not want me here?”
Eddie flops onto the couch, sprawling across it in a way that draws Steve’s eyes toward all those long, slender limbs, “Didn’t say that. Just curious.” His eyes are so dark and shiny, “Did Dustin talk you into this, or what?”
“What? No- why would h-“ Steve cuts himself off, because that’s a stupid question. Dustin is the nosiest, most meddlesome kid on the planet, that’s why, “No, it wasn’t anything to do with Dustin. Just… we went through some crazy shit together, right? Bonds forged in battle and all that.”
Eddie eyes him appraisingly then clinks their beers together with a nod, “Yeah, I get that.”
Steve hesitantly sits down on the other end of the couch. It’s not very big, so Eddie’s leg is draped very close to Steve’s knee. He takes a long chug of beer and tries not to stare at Eddie’s bony knee, poking out of the torn denim. The silence stretches out, rapidly becoming painfully uncomfortable. Jesus, this was such a bad idea.
He sneaks a glance at Eddie. The other man doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of conversation, but Steve still feels like he’s intruding. Okay, so maybe he’ll just finish this beer and make a quick exit, can’t be more awkward than this right?
Eddie, not privy to Steve’s private doom-spiral, sets his bottle down on the coffee table and stands up suddenly, “Well, I’m not killing it as a host here, am I, Stevie?”
Steve’s breath catches in his throat at the nickname and he stares blankly up at Eddie’s self-deprecating smile, “…what?”
“Hey, you were nice enough to bring me beer and I haven’t even offered you food,” Eddie gathers a few dirty dishes from the table and dumps them in the sink, “We’ve got chips, or I can throw in a pizza if you’re actually hungry.”
“Oh. Yeah. Chips, chips are good,” Steve replies hastily, trying to cover up his sudden flutter of nerves, “And, I dunno, do you wanna watch a movie or something?”
Eddie looks at him, eyes narrowing into something not quite like suspicion but close. Steve wonders if he’s being weirder than he thought. Another second passes and Eddie nods, “Yeah, we got movies on the shelf there. Take your pick.”
Steve is grateful for something to focus on other than Eddie’s pushed up sleeves, revealing surprisingly toned and unsurprisingly tattooed forearms. The Shining, no. Nightmare on Elm Street, pass. He’s not really in a horror movie mood - he hopes Eddie doesn’t mind. Footloose, Steve thumbs the cover, surprised. Airplane, okay that’s a maybe. He sets it aside and continues looking. Blade Runner and Fast Times at Ridgemont High join the stack.
He glances over the rest, easing The Terminator from between Ghostbusters and Neverending Story and turns around to find Eddie standing very close. Steve can smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath, close. He steps back hastily, bumping his elbow on the shelf.
“Fuck. Ow.” Steve rubs his funny bone, “Um. So, any of these is good with me. Unless you have something else you wanna watch?”
Eddie looks slightly up at Steve, he’s not much shorter but he’s in sock feet and Steve is wearing shoes, “Let’s see what meets the Steve Harrington standard, shall we?”
He tugs Terminator from Steve’s grip and replaces it with a large bowl of Cheetos. They make their way back to the couch, Eddie depositing the stack of movies on the noticeably cleaner table. He spreads them out with flourish, rings gleaming in the light from the kitchen. Steve swallows hard, watching those long fingers brush over each cover as though it were a priceless ancient tome.
“Very interesting selection you’ve provided here, Harrington,” Eddie gives him a head tilt that echoes the bow from earlier. “A truly intriguing and varied menu indeed.”
Who talks like that, Steve wonders, and why is it making his heart pound like this? Airplane is rejected quickly, as is Blade Runner, to Steve’s surprise. Fast Times at Ridgemont High vs The Terminator. Kind of a weird stand off.
Eddie holds out the finalists for Steve’s final vote. Steve mentally reviews each movie, he’s seen Fast Times a lot. Like an ungodly amount of times… because reasons. Terminator, on the other hand, he had watched once when it came out in theatres and then he’d caught bits of it here and there in the years since but his memory was pretty fuzzy.
He taps Arnold Schwarzenegger’s sunglasses, “Let’s go with this one.”
Eddie’s mouth spreads into a satisfied grin, “Still surprising me, Stevie.”
He slides across the room to pop the movie in the VCR and clicks off the lights on his way back, plunging the room into almost pure blackness. Steve shifts on the couch, trying to get comfortable as the blue light from the tv slowly brightens the room. Eddie stumbles slightly as he squeezes past the low table. He lands on couch pressed up against Steve’s side, and Steve freezes at the sudden contact. Eddie laughs, his breath tickling Steve’s collarbone.
“Shit, sorry man,” Eddie whispers, hand coming up to press against Steve’s side, pushing himself back into the cushions instead.
Steve nods, not trusting himself to speak right now. He grabs the bowl of chips and puts it in his lap, staring determinedly at the trailer for Back to the Future. Eddie seems oblivious to his inner battle for sanity and takes a sip of his beer just as the actual movie finally starts.
He’s too distracted to read the text onscreen but he does note that the opening scene is set in the future. Moments later, in a burst of lightning and sparks, there is Arnie in all his naked glory. Steve shifts again, trying not to stare at the body builder’s exceptionally toned ass. He fails. What? He’s only human.
Eddie lets out a deep breath then reaches into Steve’s lap - Steve’s brain whites out for a second as Eddie grabs a handful of Cheetos. Because Steve is holding the only bowl of snacks. Right. Chill out, Steve.
Eddie laughs as the punk-looking tough guys harass Arnie and quickly regret it. Then there’s a second shower of lightning and sparks, preceding Michael Biehn’s character’s arrival. And if Arnold had a great ass, well, Michael had a great… everything else. Steve wets his lip as the new character slips into an abandoned store and steals some clothes. He’s not disappointed or anything, it’s just that he wishes he had that kind of wiry muscular look going on. He’s already got the scars, so.
The story moves along. Sarah Connor is having a real shitty night, and Steve’s beer is empty. He thinks about getting up for another but he doesn’t want to get in Eddie’s way. The other man has sunk into the couch languidly and Steve keeps looking at him to see if he has fallen asleep. Every now and then, he catches Steve looking and gives him a little smile that sends Steve’s stupid traitorous pulse pounding in his veins.
The Cheetos bowl is long since empty. Steve sits forward to set it on the table and settles back into the couch, trying to actually relax. Eddie’s couch, he realizes, is actually really comfortable. The couch at his house was chosen for the aesthetic, not comfort. He finds himself easing out a breath and stretching out a bit more, not even worrying when his knee pressed against Eddie’s leg.
“Finally, damn,” Eddie chuckles, low and teasing in the dark.
Steve rolls his head to look at him, regretting it immediately when he’s met by that impish smirk and glittering black eyes, “Finally what, Munson?”
“You were making me nervous, sitting there all proper like the fucking queen of England. Nice to see you relax, s’all,” he pats Steve’s shoulder amiably, his hand lingering maddeningly before he levers himself up from his seat, “Get you another beer?”
“Yeah,” it comes out weirdly breathy and Steve clears his throat roughly, “yeah, another would be good, thanks.”
“My pleasure, Stevie,” Eddie waves, “you brought the beer, the least I can do is let you drink it.”
The nickname is already growing on him. Steve feels a little squirm of pleasure each time his name crosses Eddie’s lips. He turns his attention back to the screen as Eddie winds his way through the kitchen, moving like a cat, silent and graceful. Weird how someone with such a big personality was also able to be so… stealthy wasn’t the word. Elegant? Steve watched without really seeing as Arnie blasted his way through the police station, ruthlessly seeking Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese, which he now remembered was Michael Biehn’s character’s name.
Eddie returns in short order, with an open beer for Steve and three more in his other hand. Steve cocks a brow at Eddie, who rolls his eyes, “For later, so we don’t have to keep getting up.”
Sarah and Reese are holed up in a shitty motel, building pipe bombs. Steve can’t help but think what a good idea that is, why hadn’t they thought of that? Then Reese is sitting by the window, shirtless again and Steve drains the last drop of his beer quickly. Linda Hamilton is hot but she’s not really his type, he can’t really say why. But he can’t keep his eyes off of Michael Biehn’s lithe, muscled back and shoulders, feeling a faint tinge of envy as Sarah gently runs her fingers over a scar.
Then Reese confesses that he’s always loved her and immediately storms away from the situation. But Sarah follows him and pulls him into a kiss and then they are pressed up against the motel fridge, sliding to the floor.
Steve clears his throat and squirms awkwardly as they fall into the bed naked. Reese clutches the white sheets with tanned, dirt stained knuckles as he thrusts. Steve’s face is burning hot, Jesus, what is wrong with him? Reese rolls them, or maybe Sarah does, and now she’s on top, rocking slowly and arching into his touch. Fuck.
Steve shifts his hips, trying not to draw attention to the quickly growing tent there. He’s praying silently that Eddie hasn’t noticed his discomfort.
No such luck. Eddie slides across the seat, pressing against Steve’s shoulder, “Getting a little twitchy there, Harrington,” he whispers, soft curls brushing lightly against Steve’s neck, “This getting you all hot and bothered?”
Steve should push him away, tell him to fuck off, do something that normal guy friends would do. Instead he finds himself caught in that mesmerizing dark gaze, paralyzed. Eddie blinks, teasing smile fading slightly and Steve’s gaze drifts to the other man’s mouth. Fuck. His lips are a little shiny, like he just had a sip of beer. Steve wants to lick it off of him.
Shit. What the fuck?
Steve drags his eyes back to the screen as his brain continues to scream at him. Eddie moves back to his side of the couch again and Steve hates it. Hates that he made it weird. Hates that Eddie’s warm body isn’t pressed up against his anymore.
He watches the rest of the movie without really seeing it. Barely even notices what’s happening until Kyle Reese is dead in Sarah’s arms, and shit… that fucking sucks. He was Steve’s favourite character.
Sarah finishes off the Terminator - Arnold has long since left the screen, only the evil robotic skeleton remained to be crushed to death by some huge machine.
The closing scene passes in a blur, and Steve thinks idly that it was a pretty good movie and he probably should watch it for real some time.
The credits roll and Eddie hasn’t spoken in a long time. Steve forces himself to look over but Eddie isn’t watching him, instead he’s staring at the scrolling screen with a contemplative sort of expression.
Steve debates whether to break the silence or just sit there. In the dark. Watching the faint glow from the tv highlight Eddie’s riotous mess of curls and soft-looking lips.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring when Eddie finally seems to shake himself awake and clears his throat, “Hey. Movie’s over.”
Steve nods, laughing a little at Eddie’s surprised tone. At least he wasn’t the only one who zoned out - probably not for the same reason though. Because Steve’s reason is that he is apparently losing his goddamn mind and somehow Eddie seems to be the cause. But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he gets to his feet with a groan and edges his way around the table, turning on the light.
“Alright man, thanks for the movie,” Steve gestures with a thumb over his shoulder, “I should probably head out, I’m working tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Eddie looks disappointed, twisting a strand of hair around his fingers and pulling it in front of his mouth as he shrugs, “Okay, yeah… Thanks for the beer. I’ll save one for you, if you wanna hang again sometime.”
“Just one?” Steve nudges him teasingly, “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”
Eddie hasn’t stood up, he’s just gazing up at Steve with huge brown eyes, looking a little bit lost and Steve wishes he could hug him. But this night has already been weird enough and he needs to talk to Robin because something is definitely going on with him and he needs answers.
~~~
It was almost midnight when Steve got home, so he didn’t immediately call Robin, like he had planned. Instead he falls into bed and doesn’t sleep, because every time he closes his eyes he sees that smile and remembers what a colossal jackass he had made of himself. Then he groans his embarrassment into the too fluffy pillows and wishes his bed was half as comfortable as Eddie’s beat up couch.
~~~
He wakes up with a jolt to the sound of his phone ringing. He scrambles out of bed, noticing the time as he does. Shit, he’s late for work. Racing down the stairs, he grabs the phone off the hook while snagging a banana from the counter.
“Dude, I’ve been calling for like an hour! Where are you?” It’s Robin, of course.
Steve tugs on his shoes, tripping against the door, “I’m sorry, I slept in! I’ll be right there, sorry!” He slams the phone down and sprints to his car.
Steve’s lucky he hadn’t bothered to undress last night, or he’d be even more fucked right now. He whips out of the cul de sac, and heads toward Family Video, the job that he hates but can’t afford to lose.
Bursting through the door, Steve almost runs head first into a customer, which is perfect because if he wasn’t fired already maybe this can be the cherry on top. He manages to get behind the counter without further disaster and collapses skull first on the shiny formica surface.
“Nice of you to show up,” Robin pokes him hard in the ribs, “What did you get up to last night? Hot date that I don’t know about?”
“Hngggnn stop..” he whines, face still firmly planted on the countertop, “I just… couldn’t sleep at all last night.”
He finally looks up and realizes that she looks concerned now, “Steve, hey, was it nightmares again? Are you okay?”
He nods and then shakes his head, because communication is his special skill, “Nah, it’s not- nothing like that. Actually I uh-“ he glances around the store quickly, relieved to see its empty, “Okay, I need to talk to you.”
“Oh is that not what we’re doing? Weird, I could have sworn…”
“Shut up,” he shoves her lightly, “seriously though. I think I’m losing it, Robin. I - I went to Eddie’s last night. You know, to hang out or whatever.”
“Oka-ay,” he has her full attention now, “So… how’d it go?”
Steve can feel the blush rising in his cheeks already and he wants to put his face on the counter again, “Well. It was … good? I guess?” He shrugs once, then again, “We watched a movie and had a couple beers. So yeah, it was good. Totally normal hang out.”
“Uh huh.” She looks skeptical, “So then what did you need to talk about?”
Steve winces, because of course she had caught that, “Okay. So…” he scrubs a hand over his face, “So, okay, it’s like… um… you know how I said that he’s got a nice smile?”
Robin barely hides a grin, “Yeah Steve, I remember that. I think you also mentioned something about his sparkly brown eyes too.”
Steve groans, ugh he had hadn’t he, Jesus, “Okay stop that, that’s not helping,” he points generally at her entire face, “I’m seriously freaking out here, Robs, I - I’ve never felt like this before.”
It’s true, he realizes with a shock. No one has ever made him feel so… much. Not even Nancy and he thought he was in love with her. But with Nancy… he was always excited to see her and everything but he’d never gotten so flustered and nervous, what the hell was this? Was this normal, is this what everyone always talked about when they referenced first date jitters and performance anxiety? God, this was horrible.
“Robin… am I- am I gay?” He asks, softly. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer.
Robin, all the teasing gone from her face now, places her hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eye, “Steve. That’s not something that anyone but you can know.”
He sags against her bracing grip, “But how do I figure it out? I… I like girls, I date lots of girls. I can’t be gay.”
She raises one shoulder and sighs, “Okay, so maybe you’re not gay. You probably aren’t gay, Steve.”
Steve stares at her, not knowing if he’s relieved or disappointed, “Oh..”
“But…” she shakes him slightly, “I don’t think you’re straight, either.
Wait, what? What else was there?
She moves her hands away from his shoulders, “Do you like Eddie, Steve?”
“I- I don’t…” he thinks of the way Eddie twirls that lock of hair when he’s nervous or upset, the way he speaks with his entire body, the way his eyes light up when he’s excited, “I don’t know… I think- maybe?”
“Have you ever thought about kissing him?” Robin is blunt, if nothing else.
Steve flounders for a second, denial rising automatically in his throat only to die before it makes it past his lips. Did he want to kiss Eddie? The thought of it already has his heart pounding and his stomach feels like it’s full of a dozen energetic frogs. Is this what dying feels like?
“I don’t know, Robin,” he feels like he’s going to cry, “I… I couldn’t stop staring at him last night and I just- I wanted him to touch me and when he had a drop of beer on his lip I wanted to lick it off of him and- and… oh. Oh fuck..”
Robin looks a weird combination of proud and worried, but she squeezes his shoulder again, comfortingly, “It’s alright Steve, it’s okay.”
But it’s not okay, Steve thinks, it’s not because he’s… not straight and Eddie very much is, and now Steve actually understands what he’s been feeling and how is he supposed to hang out with Eddie now when all he wants to do is- is… Steve doesn’t finish that thought because he’s already spun up enough and that won’t help anything.
And suddenly he realizes that this is exactly what Robin has been experiencing with Vicky, this feeling of excitement and dread and hope and terror and shit. He’s been a shitty friend. He thinks about all his advice to her about how to talk to Vicky and how all of it was utterly useless without a sure, undeniable sign that Vicky was also… not straight.
He takes a deep breath and looks at his friend. She smiles encouragingly, seeming relieved that he’s stopped panicking. He hasn’t, really, but he’s got other things to worry about now, “Why didn’t you tell me how useless all of my dating advice was?”
She cackles, delighted, “Oh my god, it was so bad Steve! I love you, but seriously your advice was a garbage fire.”
“Yeah, I get that now,” he laughs too, unbelievably grateful for her friendship, “I’m sorry. I should have.. I was really stupid.”
“But you were trying so hard, and having someone to talk to helped,” she’s still giggling at him, “Really though, I can’t tell you how much it helped, Steve.”
Steve suddenly feels a bit teary-eyed and blinks them back rapidly, “Okay, so hey we’re at work, we should probably… do that.”