Chapter Text
“Eddie- this reads like an intro for a bad porno, man. Or at the very least it sounds like we have a very… close relationship.”
Eddie splutters in indignation. He’s mid-bowl of cereal as Gareth scans the craigslist advert he had so carefully curated this morning, and milk and half mushed cornflakes slides from the spoon as it dangles in mid air, paused on its journey to Eddie’s mouth- which is working furiously, soundlessly, as he tries to find the words to scold Gareth.
“In what fucking world does it sound like a-”
“Two single dudes,” Gareth reads aloud, disbelieving, “looking for friendly and fun roommates. Must have interesting music taste. Must be okay with loud noise-”
“Because- because of band practice, Gareth!”
“-and cats. What the- we don’t have a pet cat?! Since when do we have a cat?”
“But- Frodo. He sleeps here sometimes.”
“Yeah- because you keep feeding him, asshole. He lives like two blocks over, that cat is a greedy little fuck. He’s leeching off-”
“Um- objection. First of all- I don’t think they feed him at home, I really don’t. And second of all-”
“God why did I let you write this-”
“I’m an English major!” Eddie protests. “It’s like- it’s literally one of my best skillsets, writing.”
“Music, maybe,” Gareth muses. “And campaigns. Craiglist adverts though? I think not.”
Eddie sighs.
“Why’d you specify single?” Gareth asks, his expression a perfect blend of intrigue and despair.
“I dunno. There's two of us, and maybe... I thought maybe that would appeal to people because it means we aren’t having loud annoying morning sex, right?”
“Single doesn’t necessarily mean no morning sex,” Gareth huffs. “You might as well put celibate.”
“Yeah, but then we might come off as incels,” Eddie points out. Flawless logic, he thinks. “Don’t wanna creep people out.”
“Yeah,” Gareth laughs, slightly hysterical, “we- we wouldn’t want that, would we? Fuck me. Jesus. I need to re-write this. Go away, your face is pissing me off.”
Eddie scowls, picking up his half-drowned bowl of cornflakes and stalking out of the room. Fucking Gareth. Fucking Jeff, and their stupid ex roommate Roberto. Why’d they have to move out and ruin everything? Roberto was one thing- he’d actually graduated, the lucky bastard. Jeff was another- he’d moved out to move in with a girl. Jeff getting a girlfriend was the last thing Eddie’d expected to resent this year, and yet here he was. Resentful. Roommate-less, other than Gareth. And soon to be kicked out, because neither of them could float rent for a four bed apartment without two new (hopefully friendly) faces in the mix.
Eddie ruminates on their fruitless search for fellow rent-paying compatriots thus far. Neither he nor Gareth have that vast a social circle- it’s kind of limited to people they play music with, people they play DnD with, and the three people Eddie puts up with from classes (when he bothers to infrequently attend). None of which need emergency accommodation at the beginning of fall semester, it turns out. Shocking.
Still, maybe it’s best to let Gareth take the reins on this one. Let him write the shitty ad to try and lure unsuspecting victims into living with them (ha! And Frodo. Frodo’s here at least three nights a week at this point- Eddie is deeply attached already, and may or may not be harbouring a cat bed under his own bedframe, so. There.)
Eddie isn’t expecting a miracle any time soon. Figures it might take a week, a few days at least. He’s certainly not expecting a miracle overnight- which is exactly what they get. A response- two, actually.
The first response is from an old guy named Jacob. He’s responded to Gareth- his advert is so dull, Eddie thinks spitefully, sanitary. Jacob wants to know if they would be interested in moving into his townhouse. Jacob appears to be under the impression that the two of them are sorority sisters. Jacob has clearly misread the fucking advert.
The second response is from a person named Robin. Robin also attends UCI. Robin is an english lit major, like Eddie- he briefly regrets skipping so much class last year, because then he might actually recognise her- and Robin is in a bit of a predicament. She explains in her efficient little response that she and her current roommate are being kicked out this week, and are desperate to rent somewhere. They can move in immediately. There’s no info on their potential fourth roommate’s age, gender, major- but it’s a moot point, because Gareth has already replied, and said Yes Please. And so that is that, Eddie supposes.
“We should have like- vetted them, first,” Eddie whines. “What if they’re total assholes? What if they- what if they do weird shit, like break into our rooms and steal things? Or use up all the milk and don’t replace it?”
“As long as they pay rent, I can live with the milk thing,” Gareth shrugs. “Not like we had many options, dude.”
“What if they’re a couple, and they fuck on the couch?”
Gareth wrinkles his nose. “I feel like she’d have specified. Robin, I mean.”
Eddie sighs, pushing his coffee cup around in circles on the table.
“Hey,” Gareth says. “We don’t need to like- end up best friends, you know? As long as they keep to themselves, who cares? And you never know, Munson- might end up actually liking them as people.” He wiggles his eyebrows expectantly, and Eddie fixes him with his best deadpan stare. People. He’s not got the best rep with People. Not new ones, not normal ones- but hey. Maybe this will be different. Maybe they’ll be nerds, like the two of them- and maybe Eddie won’t get the way he gets around intimidating new faces. Prickly and awkward, words spilling out in the wrong order. It’ll be fine, he thinks. Positive thoughts!
Robin arrives half an hour late, which Eddie respects. This is a good sign, a sign of normalcy in his book. Eddie’s practicing, when they do arrive- he’s half lost in the rhythm of it all, eyes closed, mind drifting as he fingers pick out the latest riff he and Jeff have been scheming at practice- he misses the knock at the door, initially. He’s in a baggy black tank and cuffed sweats, hair still a mess from sleeping with it half up in a topknot last night. Start as you mean to go on, he thinks. Not worth making any kind of impression on these people that won’t last- better to dress how he always does around the apartment.
He regrets that decision almost immediately. Because of course it is a Bad One.
When Gareth answers the door, Eddie peers out of his room- and sees a massive potted plant. It’s walking forward, and it’s apologising to Gareth in a very pleasant baritone voice, laughing dryly. The potted plant eventually gets deposited on the ground, revealing what could quite possibly be the most attractive man Eddie’s had the misfortune of laying eyes on in his twenty four years on planet Earth. Jesus fuuuuck oh my god. Holy- his brain misfires. The guy hasn’t seen him yet- he’s chatting amicably to Gareth, who keeps referring to him as Robin. But this cannot be Robin- Eddie would definitely have remembered seeing this guy in class. No doubt about it.
“Oh- I’m not Robin, sorry,” the guy confirms, running a broad hand through his floppy brown hair, flashing Gareth a 100-watt smile. Eddie swallows. This is bad, very bad.
“I’m Steve- uh. Her roommate? Sorry- I thought she’d mentioned…”
“No, it’s cool, man. I’m Gareth, nice to meet you,” Gareth says, clapping a hand to Steve’s outstretched one in greeting. Then he chucks a thumb over his shoulder, turning in Eddie’s direction and grinning slyly. “That’s Eddie.”
That. As in- that weird guy peering out at us from behind his door like an anxious toddler. Eddie’s cheeks heat, and he scowls, stepping out and glaring at Gareth. He nods in Steve’s direction, avoiding eye contact- that’s far too dangerous a venture at the moment- and blinks in surprise as a tall stack of boxes enters the door, stumbles and then clatters forward, one of the boxes flying into Eddie’s chest with an oof.
“Rob,” Steve says, exasperated, “I told you to let me-”
“You were taking too long, dingus!”
A tall, freckly girl with messy brown hair leans forward, picking up the boxes. Eddie wracks his brain, and finds that she does look vaguely familiar. She sighs, stacking the boxes up again after Eddie gingerly puts the one he’s holding on the ground, wincing at the clinking sounds inside. Breakables. Whoops.
“I’m Robin,” she says, sticking a hand out towards Eddie. “You’re Gareth?”
“Eddie,” Eddie says, smiling tightly at her. “Roommate.”
Christ. Why is he speaking like a caveman? Is he capable of uttering more than two syllables at a time in the presence of an attractive person? Possibly not. Robin squints at him in response.
“Do I know you?”
“Uh-”
“You would,” Gareth remarks, “if he ever went to class, I think. You’re an english major, right? I’m Gareth.”
Robin whirls round, nodding at him, and then glancing back at Eddie. He’s hyper aware of Steve, standing next to Gareth- Steve, who- if Eddie isn’t sorely mistaken, is kind of staring. It makes his skin prickle, and he gestures with his hands, offers to help Robin move stuff in just to distract himself.
“That’s okay,” Steve answers for her. “I got it.”
He smiles at Eddie, warmly- and Eddie meets his eyes, because his masochistic streak is a mile wide and growing by the fucking minute. God, his face. It’s perfect. It’s all strong jawline and full lips, moles and long lashes.
“Okay,” Eddie says weakly. And then they- he’s still staring. At Steve. Who is also staring.
Gareth clears his throat. “You guys want- coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee would be killer,” Robin says brightly. “We won’t be long, don’t have much more stuff.”
They disappear outside again, and Eddie realises he’d been holding his breath. For how long? Long enough that his lungs sag in relief after, and long enough that Gareth turns to him as Eddie makes a pathetic little noise like a deflating balloon.
“Eddie,” Gareth says, solemnly.
Eddie nods.
“I’m telling you now, even though I know it’s pointless, because you never listen to anything I say. Ever.”
Eddie nods again.
“Please, Eddie. Do not fuck our new roommate.”
“Why the fuck would you say that?” Eddie hisses, cheeks aflame again. “What is wrong with your-”
“That’s all I’m saying,” Gareth interrupts airily, hands up in mock surrender. “No further objections. You’re just a natural disaster, and I’d rather keep the apartment a conflict free zone, so.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an actual response, Gar, because you-”
He cuts off as they hear Steve and Robin in the stairwell again, and Gareth wanders backwards into the kitchen, eyes widened in innocence as Eddie stares him down. Interfering asshole. Was it that obvious that he’d been checking Steve out? Eddie’d barely glanced at the guy. He was covert as fuck, Gareth was just being weird. Or assuming Eddie was down to clown with the first attractive guy that willingly walked into their apartment- could be that. Most likely that.
Robin is lugging two duffel bags as they re-enter the front door again, and Steve follows close on her heels- obscured by a truly towering stack of boxes, the top one folded open and bearing yet more potted greenery. Eddie wonders which of them is the greenthumb- he himself had managed to kill a cactus the one time he’d been given a living object to take care of. Makes sense.
Eddie retreats to his bedroom as they continue their trips inside, door ajar to maintain nosiness as they bustle about in the hallway, carrying in boxes and bags and plants and all sorts of other junk- Robin keeps dropping things, and Eddie’s traitorous stomach flips as he hears Steve’s laugh in response- a warm and pleased sound, easy and open. He finds it odd that Robin hadn’t mentioned the fact that they’re a couple previously- which they must be, given how touchy they are and the way he laughs so fondly at her, but they do seem nice enough. Friendly, at least- he re-emerges as he hears them wander into the kitchen and join Gareth for coffee.
Gareth’s even bothered to foam milk with their cheap little steamer wand gadget he’d got last year for christmas when he’d expressed an urge to Jeff about bringing his barista skills back home to the apartment. He’s offering them cream and sugar as Eddie sidles in, wanders to his own cupboard to pick out a mug- his one with all the weird medieval cats printed on it, thieved from Wayne.
Robin’s trying her hand at latte art. Trying being the operative term here- she’s not very good at it, from the sounds of frustration she makes as she pours out a shapeless blob into her own cup. Steve pinches the jug out from her, snickering- he pours his own one flawlessly, shoving the mug under Robin's nose to show her how it's done. He watches as Steve instructs her in that low, pleasant voice, taking her hand to let her finish it off.
God, Eddie thinks. I bet he talks you through it.
Then he remembers Gareth's wise, gently-threatening words. Please Eddie. Do not fuck our new roommate.
He drowns that thought under a wave of horniness-induced self-loathing and turns to face them, gripping his own mug like a vice.
“So,” Robin says. “Uh. Thanks. For letting us move in here so short notice.”
Eddie shakes his head, re-focusing his attention firmly on Robin. Maybe if he only focuses on Robin, and pretends Steve isn’t there- maybe he can speak normally. Maybe. “Nah, you were doing us a solid. Didn’t think we’d make rent this month, so…”
“Anything we should… know about?” Steve asks, staring directly at Eddie. Eddie swallows.
“Like?”
“I dunno. Apartment no-gos, anything broken we need to watch… hobbies, hopes, dreams…” he trails off, teasing. Eddie wants to melt. Wants the linoleum beneath him to rip open into a vast, sucking hole and drag him under.
“We do have band practice on Sundays, but we can probably move it if that’s an issue,” Gareth shrugs. “We cleared out a cupboard each for you guys- we share some communal stuff, just try replace it if you finish it. Also the boiler’s on the fritz, you have to whack it sometimes when it resets a timer on Wednesdays-”
“Thursdays,” Eddie corrects.
“Wednesdays, Munson, please tell me you’ve learned the days of the week by now,” Gareth sighs, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, the landlord is a bit of a douchebag, but rent’s cheap, so.”
Steve and Robin turn to him, nodding in tandem. The motion reminds Eddie of those plastic dogs people stick on car dashboards, nodding up down, up down.
“Apart from that…”
Gareth trails off, glancing at Eddie, who shrugs.
“Just keep the place clean and don’t be an asshole. Bang on his door-” he points at Eddie, “if his music’s too loud. I’m pretty sure he’s going deaf.”
Eddie splutters in protest, clattering his mug onto the counter.
“Is it good music at least?” Steve grins at him, folding his arms over his chest. It stretches his t-shirt in an incredibly distracting way, and Eddie flounders.
“If you’re into metal.”
“Ah. Not my area of expertise.”
“He listens to a lot of-”
“Gareth,” Eddie manages, voice venomous. Gareth blinks at him, and then turns back to his mug.
“I’m gonna go-”
“Yeah. You do that.”
“So what’s the pet policy? Not that I have an issue with pets. I don’t. Just- maybe if you have a snake. Like, a venomous one. We almost moved in with these people last week but one of them collected snakes, and- well. I mean, not that you guys look like snake people- well, unless you do own a snake-” Robin yammers, eyes wide, and Eddie watches Steve elbow her.
“Um. We have a cat.”
“No we don’t!” They hear Gareth yell from down the hall. Eddie rolls his eyes. He glances at Robin, lowering his voice to add, “he’s kind of shy, but he’s a total sweetheart. Unless- are you guys cat people? Or not cat people- if-”
“We’re cat people,” Robin beams. “I love cats. Cutest kind of roommate, right Steve?”
“Yeah,” Steve smiles. He’s looking straight at Eddie, looking at him with those warm brown eyes which appear to be causing Eddie’s fight or flight instincts to kick in. “I’m a big fan of cute roommates.”
*
Eddie figures out he has a problem less than a month in.
It’s entirely of his own making, of course. It’s one which Gareth points out to him a few days after they gain +2 to the permanent resident count, and it’s one which Eddie reckons he’s safe to ignore for the time being, and what was he supposed to do anyway? Tell Steve no, maybe it’s better you stay in the room down the hall next to Gareth? Mostly because I’m never going to leave my room again if you start sleeping directly next door?
Because Steve is. Next door, that is. He picked the room himself, and the walls really aren’t thick enough for Eddie to feel entirely comfortable with the situation.
He wishes it was Robin next door instead. Robin is nice, and also there’s no risk of Eddie embarrassing himself in front of somebody he’d like to rip the clothes off of that way.
So he just kind of… retreats.
Becomes a hermit.
He leaves for class and work much later than Steve does anyway, and he makes sure he’s safely squirreled away in his room each night when Steve re-appears like clockwork after his shift at whatever cafe he works at ends, or his own classes draw to a close. Eddie learns via osmosis (Gareth) that Steve’s an early education major with a minor in phys ed (of course he is), and Robin’s eng lit like him with a minor in women’s studies. He also works out very quickly that Robin and Steve aren’t dating. He works it out by appearing from his room after a nap one weekend to find Robin pinned down under a tiny blonde lady dressed head to toe in pink- they both stare at him in freeze-frame horror until Robin squeaks out something about thinking the apartment was empty.
Eddie chokes out an apology, and later Robin makes him a coffee unprompted. Sweet of her, and the issue is put to rest. The blonde girl turns out to be Robin’s girlfriend Chrissy, and she and Eddie get on immediately, because appearances be damned- Chrissy compliments Eddie’s music blaring from his room the week after, and they chat animatedly on the sofa for an hour about the latest gigs they’ve both been to until Steve arrives back from a run and Eddie flees like a pathetic frightened housecat to the safety of his room after Steve tries to join in the conversation. Maybe Steve figures Eddie’s just flighty. Who knows. It’s safer this way, when he’s avoidant.
Steve and Robin being entirely platonic aside- Eddie still has to endure Steve’s own ever changing overnight guest parade, because the guy is clearly single, and he clearly does well for himself, bringing home a new girl every so often. He’s respectful about it, quiet as he can be, sticks to his room, and Eddie never sees them in the morning or whatever. Still, the walls just aren’t thick enough to entirely conceal whenever Steve is entertaining company, and Eddie’s quick to jam on headphones whenever he hears even the sound of muffled voices or laughter from next door, sees an extra pair of women’s sneakers in the hallway. He’s not a creep. He has no interest in hearing what Steve sounds like in the sack.
Guys come over too, sometimes. Eddie doesn’t try to kid himself though- he sees one of them crash on the couch (Jonathan, Robin tells him), so he figures that anytime Steve or Robin are entertaining a male guest, it’s not because either of them fuck guys, so. Bummer.
Not that Eddie cares. Because he’s very determinedly over his crush on his roommate. Through avoidance and sheer force of will.
He avoids the communal areas of the apartment like a plague, feeling as though he’s done the very thing Wayne jokes about every summer when he catches how pasty Eddie’s skin looks- turned into a little ghost, haunting his own home. Hiding away from the pretty boy next door.
The thing is, regardless of his determination to hide from Steve, everything Eddie learns about him against his will just seems to make it harder and harder to get over his tongue tying attractiveness. It would maybe be okay if he was living with somebody that hot if he was like, a total asshole.
But Steve isn’t. He’s not, and it’s really beginning to grate on Eddie.
For starters, Gareth (useless TRAITOR that he is), has entirely befriended him. It’s the absolute worst, because now whenever Eddie goes to try and bother Gareth, or hang out with him whenever the two of them have nothing more than a morose and slightly lonesome evening in the apartment planned, there is the constant risk of Steve.
Steve and Gareth watch movies together now. Every Wednesday night, the kind of movies Eddie used to scoff at, and the kind he knows Gareth secretly deeply enjoys. Really trashy action flicks, early 2000’s rom coms, bad 80’s sci fi. Steve even makes them popcorn, the kind you make in the microwave instead of cold from a bag- Eddie knows this, because he’d stumbled into their Wednesday night tradition last week and sort of hovered in the doorway, dithering and opening his mouth like a fish at Gareth.
“I thought we were gonna-”
He gestures at his room, narrowing his eyes at Gareth, like hang out, we were gonna hang out and jam?
“Oh,” Gareth blinks, “shit, dude. Sorry, I forgot. Tomorrow? We’re watching Commando.”
Steve pops his head over the edge of their squashy cord couch. He smiles lazily at Eddie, nodding him over.
“Wanna join?”
And then he pats the space beside him on the couch, and Eddie blue screens.
“I’m- nope. All good, sorry-”
“Next time,” Steve interjects, “you should come join next time. Robin’ll be there.”
Yeah, Eddie thinks, because that’s the fucking issue here. Robin’s absence. Not the fact that I’ll say something weird or do something insane and you’ll realise what a mistake it was to move in with us.
Gareth narrows his eyes.
“Are you seriously judging the movie pick? I never bitch at you for your fucked up horror picks, Munson. I’ve sat through way worse-”
“No,” Eddie scowls. “I’m just- I have plans, actually.”
“With who, your right hand? Get over here, stop acting like a headcase.”
“Not with- with people from class, actually, so-”
“You haven’t been to class in-”
Eddie cuts him off from that stream of revelation by picking up a throw pillow from the ugly beanbag they have in one corner (courtesy of Steve and Robin) and chucking it in his face. It narrowly misses Steve, who has to dodge back, standing up off the sofa as Gareth flings it back in retaliation. Eddie, famously two-left-footed with no hand-eye co-ordination, trips back as it hits him in the face and stumbles into the doorframe, tripping back over his own sock to end up squarely on his backside with a thump, yelping, red in the face.
Steve extends his hand, standing over him.
“You good Eddie?”
No, Eddie thinks miserably, I’m praying for a quick end. Not to be dramatic, but I’m kind of hoping for a well-timed and perfectly aimed meteor strike where I sit right now, actually.
“Yup,” he manages instead, accepting the hand, unable to meet Steve’s eyes. His hand is really warm, and he’s got a little gold signet ring on his pinky. Rich boy. His hand is way bigger than Eddie’s too, which just- it’s not helping the situation, that’s for certain. Eddie’s conscious of the fact his hand is probably all clammy, fucking christ.
Steve pulls him to his feet, and he has to take a step back, a little too close to him in his worn faded sweats and his pretty face with reading glasses on and the way he smells of buttered popcorn. It’s all too much, it’s an assault on the senses. Eddie needs to leave. He needs Steve to let go of his hand, like, yesterday.
“Bye,” he snaps in Gareth’s direction, and he scrambles back to his bedroom, before remembering he’s supposed to have plans right now, groaning. He packs up his battered laptop and headphones, figures he can make a headstart on mixing a track he’d been prepping for one of the classes he takes for his minor in music production. Fuck it, internet cafe it is. Free wifi.
He jams on a hat over his needs-a-wash-badly hair and some fingerless gloves, because it’s cold for this time of year, and ditches the apartment, firmly ignoring Gareth’s snide comment to enjoy his ‘plans’ on his way out (that, and the way Steve says bye. And calls his name. Bye Eddie! Someone shoot me, Eddie thinks. Bye Eddie! See you for more ritual humiliation later!)
So. Gareth and Steve- a problem to be considered. A friendship indicative of Problems. That’s one thing, sure.
Except.
But.
The next week, Steve has guests over again. Male guests too- four to be precise, and then shortly after there are two girls as well- all of them high school age, teenagers, gross. They show on Saturday, when Eddie is firmly asleep- he wakes to the hammering on their door, and is half-conscious and bleary enough not to care about appearances after the knocking continues for five minutes, and no one seems to answer it. He tugs on a Megadeath tee covered in holes and clean-looking boxers and socks, stumbles out into the hall and to the door.
When he answers it, there’s a kid there with curly hair and a massive rucksack, the kind Eddie used to lug around school too, the kind associated with I-eat-my-lunch-in-the-hallway-and-get-called-names-during-every-class. He blinks at Eddie, who kind of wishes he’d put on sweats.
“You’re not Steve. Or Robin.”
Eddie frowns. “I gathered that. Why are you trying to break my door down at-” he checks his phone- “not-yet-nine am? Pretty sure that’s a chargeable offense.”
“Wait,” the guy hums thoughtfully. “Are you Eddie? You are, aren’t you? Steve talks about you all the-”
“Dustin,” Robin groans from behind Eddie, shuffling out of her room with her hair half stuck to her face. “Why- what-”
“Oh good,” Dustin exclaims. “A familiar face. Sorry,” he gestures to Eddie, “I forgot that not everyone operates as well as Steve this early. Not that, you know, it’s an issue- sorry.”
Eddie shakes his head. “I need caffeine,” he tells Robin, retreating to his room.
“Steve’s on a run,” Robin tells Dustin as Eddie walks back, “remember? His strange self-inflicted punishment, morning exercise?”
By the time Eddie reappears ten minutes later- more dressed, more caffeinated- the guests have multiplied. There’s a whole crowd of them now in his front room, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the giant TV Gareth snagged off facebook marketplace and Eddie’s beat up playstation 3 and complaining at Robin about the lack of Steve in the apartment.
Gareth appears from his room to join Eddie in the hall, looking on distastefully.
“These yours or theirs?”
Eddie snorts. “Strays? Me?”
Gareth raises his eyebrows, mouthing the cat.
“Theirs,” Eddie grumbles. “Steve’s specifically, I believe. Is he like some kind of elder sibling in a mormon family?”
“We’re not mormon,” the curly haired one frowns, turning to face Eddie. “Trust me, I looked into it. The mormon thing. I considered conversion.”
“What?”
A red haired girl turns to look at curly- Dustin, Eddie vaguely remembers- face painted with incredulity. “Seriously, Henderson?”
“Yeah. For Suzie, duh. But it’s a whole ordeal, so-”
“They’re not actually related to Steve,” Robin interjects. “He’s just very- he’s a babysitter. He’s THE babysitter.”
“He’s basically my brother,” Dustin rolls his eyes. “And anyway, what do you mean- you guys don’t even talk about us? To the people who live with you?”
He turns to Eddie, looking all hurt. “Hasn’t Steve even mentioned me?”
“That would require Eddie to stay in the room long enough to have a conversation with Steve,” Gareth adds sweetly. Eddie stands on his foot until he hisses.
“Oh,” Dustin frowns. “Well- it’s cool. We can vet you now, anyway.”
“Vet us-”
“Yeah, like for living with Steve and Robin, make sure you guys aren’t like-”
“Oh my god,” Robin groans. “Please ignore him. Dustin, I know why you’re here. You’re here to try and take over another one of our living spaces to play that stupid board game. How did you all even get here, anyway?”
“I got my license last weekend,” one of the boys at the back offers, tall with a hooded sweatshirt on with a tiger logo on the front that matches one of the t-shirts Eddie’s seen Steve wear to run in. Not that he notices these things. Clothes Steve runs in.
“So what, you all squashed in with Lucas?”
“El sat in my lap,” the red haired girl says, all wide eyes, butter-wouldn’t-melt.
“Anyway,” Robin sighs, turning to Eddie and Gareth, “sorry about all this. They’ll probably commandeer the front room today, I’d say, unless you guys need it.”
“We just wanted to stop by,” Dustin mumbles, “and also- Mike’s basement is occupied right now. His dad is like, re-painting it or something. We just need it for two hours, tops! Just to finish the campaign. And then we’ll totally clear out, and take Steve with us.”
And then he pulls out the players handbook from that comically large rucksack.
“Oh,” Eddie says, “you guys wanna play D&D here? That’s cool.”
Gareth nods affirmatively. “We’d never interfere with a final session.”
They all stare at them.
“You guys play?” Dustin asks cautiously.
“Uh, yeah,” Eddie scoffs, “we play. I’ve been DM-ing for like, ten years straight. Probably before you kiddies were walking and talking.”
“You’re twenty three, not fifty,” Gareth mutters. Not that it matters, because Dustin is still staring at them both as though Eddie’s grown a second head.
“Whaaaat?” he says, all quiet and drawn out, “Steve didn’t mention you guys were cool. You’re a DM?”
“Matt Mercer eat your heart out,” Gareth teases. “He’s not bad, actually.”
“You running something now?”
Eddie nods. “Sure. I have a long term thing with this fucker and the rest of my bandmates, and I do a couple oneshots from time to time with of our other less socially-fortunate friends and acquaintances. DM for the people, etc etc.”
“Steve definitely didn’t mention this when he told us about you,” red-hair girl frowns.
“Steve didn’t mention what?”
They turn to stare at him in the doorway. Eddie works to keep his jaw from dropping open, because he is but a mere mortal man, and Steve is all sweaty and pretty where he stands in his stupid running shorts and his miles of tanned skin and muscled thighs, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms where he stands, narrowing his eyes at Dustin. He’s panting a little. Eddie feels like doing the same, for distinctly different reasons.
“There you are,” another one of the boys huffs.
“Don’t there you are at me, Wheeler- you guys didn’t even give me any warning! Dustin- didn’t I say afternoon?”
“Yeah, but- we needed to finish the campaign before we hang out,” Dustin blinks. As if- duh.
“These guys are cool with it, so are we good to unpack? While you-” he looks Steve up and down, wrinkling his nose- “shower and everything?”
“Sorry,” Steve groans to Eddie and Gareth, walking forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should have prepared you for all of this.”
“It’s cool,” Gareth shrugs.
“Yeah, they’re cool,” another one of Steve’s babysitting charges pipes up. “You never told Dustin they were cool, Steve.”
“Oh?”
“Eddie’s a DM.”
“A DM?”
“Eddie’s a dungeon master,” Dustin adds, “in case you forgot what that-”
“Very cool,” Steve grins at him, and Eddie swallows, feels blood rush up to his cheeks. “He never told me.”
“You never brought it up,” Eddie refutes.
“I would have,” Steve says, still smiling at him, still breathing hard from his run, head cocked to the side. “We don’t get to talk much. You’re very busy.”
Jesus. Eddie can feel how warm his face is. Steve’s so close now. Eddie wants to retreat to his room, to safety. Or to lick the sweat running down Steve’s neck right now, either or would work.
“Well,” he manages to reply, stepping backwards away from Steve, “I- uh. I’m a busy guy. Very busy. Employed.”
“I gathered.”
“And I- I actually do go to class, contrary to popular opinion.”
Gareth clears his throat.
“And I DM. Dungeon Master, that is. That’s me. I do that.”
“So I’ve been told,” Steve laughs, as though Eddie’s being really quite funny and interesting, and not trying to fall over his own feet again.
“And the band- and studio- stuff- so-”
“You’re a busy guy, I get that. All good.”
“You said you do oneshots though,” Dustin cuts in, darting around Steve. “Will you write one for us?”
“What kind of music do you play?” the tall lanky one (Wheeler?) asks, joining Dustin. “How many tattoos do you have?”
“Is that a tongue piercing?”
“What are you studying?”
“If you write us a oneshot, can I-”
“Guys,” Steve cuts in, waving them back, “chill out, jesus. Eddie’s busy. Let him be.”
“But he said-”
“No buts, Henderson, chill out or I won’t let you play your dumb game here. Back, c’mon.”
“You got any snacks?”
“Do you play?” Gareth asks Steve. Steve blinks.
“Uh. No. But maybe I would. I mean- maybe I could be convinced. To play, that is.”
Steve glances at him. His eyes are so pretty, Eddie thinks. So distracting.
The apartment explodes into noise. Eddie retreats to his room as it does, as he hears Dustin shriek now you give in? I’ve been begging you for years, Harrington- now you’re willing? And Robin calls him a pushover and Gareth just groans, retreating to his own room.
So. Another development. Steve appears to babysit an entire troupe of dungeons-and-dragons playing teenagers- and this is unfortunately a very endearing fact, very sweet. Eddie screams into his pillowcase for a little while, and then spends the rest of the day hiding in his room eating granola bars for sustenance with his big chunky headphones on, curled up at his desk and dragging himself through overdue assignments.
These unwarranted bits of information- the Gareth friendship, the upsettingly attractive running outfits, the babysitting, the dorky music he plays from his room sometimes- it’s all just accumulating into a big pile of problem for Eddie. An issue.
And then something truly awful happens. Truly catastrophic.
Eddie loves their local cafe. Loves it.
When they’d first moved into the area, he and Gareth had trawled around a ten block radius to find decent coffee. Gareth’s kind of a coffee snob, and Eddie isn’t but he does enjoy frequenting an internet cafe, because it’s a safe space to work on his crappy laptop when their own wifi is on the fritz (which it does sometimes go on, because they pay for the cheapest package possible). Pour-over is kind of a goldmine, in that it has three crucial components that make up a good cafe experience.
One: very good internet. And lots of outlets everywhere, scattered around the comfy mismatches seating areas, squashy leather couches and funky velvet armchairs.
Two: staff that like Eddie. This is key, but rare- he knows all the baristas, and the owner, Joey, who sometimes slips Eddie leftover slightly stale cinnamon buns and blueberry muffins at the end of the day if they haven’t sold by closing time.
Three: cheap and very excellent filter coffee. Eddie can sit there for hours in his favourite spot, repeatedly drinking coffee and tipping as well as he can in the spare change tip jar, and it works out very nicely for everyone. It’s a favourite haunt of his.
So- why- why the fuck is-
“Hey,” Steve grins at him, eyes twinkling, leaning against the counter in his dark green staff apron, chocolate dust on his hands and the collar of his faded t-shirt.
“What can I getcha?”
Eddie blinks at him. “You don’t work here?”
“Is that an order, or a question?”
“Uh.”
“I started yesterday,” Steve says. “I got sick of starbucks. Plus here pays better, and has nicer customers.”
What the fuck.
“You work here?”
“Yes. I do. Is that okay with you, Eddie?”
No.
“It’s okay.”
“Good to know,” Steve says seriously, smirking a little. “Can I get you anything?”
Eddie really likes this coffee shop. Like- it’s his favourite. It’s so close to the apartment, and it’s on his way into the college too. He doesn’t want to lose it.
He doesn’t want to run away just because Steve works here now.
“Filter,” he says, finally. “Just filter coffee.”
“Cool,” Steve smiles, “that’s three bucks.”
He spins away to sort that while Eddie taps his card, shuffling from foot to foot. When he turns back with the coffee, there’s a little cookie on the side, one of the wonky ones from the front.
“I didn’t pay for that,” Eddie frowns.
“It’s on the house,” Steve shrugs. “I have a staff pay-thing. You look like you could use a cookie.”
“I’m not staff, Steve.”
“So? Take the cookie, Eddie.”
“But-”
“I made it and everything,” Steve tells him, leaning his elbows on the counter to look up at him through his lashes with a look that Eddie feels should be made illegal in multiple countries. “It’d be rude not to accept.”
“Did you actually?”
“Well- not these ones, but it is kind of my job to make some of the baked goods at some point so…”
“Okay,” Eddie concedes. “Thank you.”
Steve beams. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Huh?”
“We just had, like, a whole conversation. And you got a cookie out of it, so- just saying. Maybe I’m not the worst company, right?”
Eddie’s mouth falls open. He needs to leave. That was- this is- Steve is acting way too cute.
“I have to-”
“Dude,” the guy behind him grumbles, “you guys are holding up the line.”
Eddie spins- and holy shit. There is indeed a line stretching outside now. He mutters an apology and takes his shit over to his corner chair, sinking into it and wishing for death. After five minutes he chances a glance over to the cash register- Steve is grinning at a girl with blonde hair with cute pink highlights, getting his smiley-charming-niceness all over the countertop, the coffee machine. Clearly, Eddie reflects, he doesn’t realise the effect that’s having. Blonde girl's cheeks match her highlights right now.
Eddie jams on his headphones and tries to focus. He has shit due, and Gareth was drumming loudly when he’d left- it’ll be a lot easier to knuckle down here and get the work done. He drinks the coffee after it’s gone slightly cold (as always). He eats the cookie. It’s delicious. Infuriating. He works, and works, and works.
Steve refills him twice- he seems to have a second sense for empty cups, because Eddie watches as he flits about the place, offering that to fellow filter-drinkers like Eddie. Eddie figures he’ll square up at the end. He barely notices the time when it gets to six, and the cafe is almost empty. He’s chewing on his pen, notebook full of scrawl from the latest addition of lecture notes he’d had to watch a recording of after missing it.
“Oh-”
He looks up, tugging his headphones off. Steve stands there, looking slightly bewildered.
“You-”
Eddie blinks. Does he have something on his face? He panics.
“Eddie- your mouth-”
“What?!”
“You- were you chewing your pen?”
Eddie scrambles for his phone, checks his reflection in the mirror and kicks himself internally. The fucking pen has leaked. There’s ink all over his bottom lip and some on his godforsaken tongue.
Steve is biting his lip, looking as though he’s holding back a laugh.
“You look like you’ve eaten a blue gobstopper. Or a lot of blue ice pops.”
“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “fuuuck.”
Eddie kind of has a mouth problem.
Like, as in- never quite grew out of the stop putting shit in your mouth phase. Oral fixation, some may call it. Bad habit, others may say. Pens, fingernails, guitar picks, jewelry- it’s all going to end up in his mouth at some point as part of some nervous flighty response. Eddie supposes it’s the kind of thing a therapist might label as a self soothing mechanism. He can live with it- it’s partly why he’d gotten his tongue pierced in all honesty, something else to mess with in his mouth- but incidents like this are a harsh reminder that it’s a bad habit. And also a reminder that he shouldn’t be allowed near Steve, ever. The risk of embarrassing himself is just too great.
“Let me get you some water or something-”
“No, no it’s- I need to head out, I’ll just go home and- you know. Clean up. Or shoot myself in the skull or something, I don’t know.”
“Please don’t do that,” Steve smiles wryly. “Who’d pay your share of the rent?”
Eddie laughs, despite himself. “Gareth’ll work it out. He’ll find someone on craigslist.”
“Guess it worked out that way last time.”
Eddie grimaces. “Fuck. I can taste the ink now- jesus.”
“So- you don’t normally make a habit of that?”
“Inking up my mouth? No.”
“I don’t know,” Steve shrugs. “I mean, you have it pierced, right? Maybe you can- is that a thing? Tongue tattoo?”
Eddie blinks at him.
“You do- it is a piercing, right? On your-”
“Yeah.”
“Can I see?”
What.
Steve steps a little closer, his gaze heavy and fixed on Eddie’s face. “Show me?”
He’s too close. Eddie’s mouth drops open of its own volition, and he sticks his tongue out a little, red in the face again. That’s becoming a habit, around Steve.
Steve’s eyes go wide.
“Cool. That’s- sorry. Haven’t seen one before. Bet, uh. Bet the ladies love that.”
Eddie closes his mouth. “I wouldn’t know.”
Let Steve take that either as a confirmation of Eddie’s queerness or his lack of action vis-a-vis bedroom- both are true, and it’s not as though he makes much effort to hide it. He just hides himself, most of the time.
Steve’s eyes go a little wider.
Eddie wipes his thumb at the corner of his mouth. The cafe is nearly empty now, and the atmosphere feels all weird. Too heavy and stretched, loaded up and inescapable. His thumb comes away bright blue and he winces. His mouth is full of drool after sticking his tongue out at Steve.
“I’ll see you later,” he manages stiffly. And then he does a little bow, like Steve is a feudal lord, because he’s apparently not done embarrassing himself this evening.
“Bye. Thanks. For the cookie, I mean. Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Steve says, still smiling at him, soft, with his eyes all crinkly at the edges. “Anytime, Eddie.”
Eddie hesitates a moment- and then bolts out the door.