Work Text:
July 3rd, 1986. — “You have plans later?”
“I don’t, actually,” Steve replies to Eddie, who looks at him lovingly from the counter, “Why?”
“How do you feel about a date later? My treat,” Eddie gives him an award winning smile that Steve can’t seem to resist, and Steve thinks he might just melt at the sight of Eddie’s toothy grin.
“That’d be fantastic,” Steve replies, smiling back at the older man. He walks back to the counter from where he was typing something on the old blocky computer and leans on the glass counter, letting himself get so close to Eddie that their foreheads were almost touching.
“I’ll pick you up then,” Eddie whispers in a voice that, despite being the tiniest bit fried from practicing a new song with his band, still somehow soothed a burn in Steve’s heart that he didn’t even know he had like aloe vera. Steve can feel Eddie’s breath on his lips and resists the urge to kiss him, knowing what would happen if he got caught. Instead, he lets his forehead rest against the metalhead’s for a second before pulling away fully and propping an elbow onto the counter, resting his chin in his palm. Eddie’s smile has turned sharper than before, and he slides a Rocky Horror Picture Show VHS on the counter. Steve sighs at the sight of the all too familiar movie tape.
“Kæreste,” Sweetheart, Steve says with faux disappointment, “You’ve rented that 10 different times. Just buy it at this point and stop wasting your money.”
“But then what other excuses can I use to stop by and see you, Stevie?” Eddie asks, putting 3 dollars on the counter and putting on a smug expression at the red tint covering Steve’s face. Steve makes the mistake of looking too long at Eddie, the expression he’s making burning into Steve’s brain, and Steve knows this because Eddie laughs.
“You are so easy to make blush, honey,” Eddie says, chuckling. Steve forces himself to roll his eyes at the statement and flicks Eddie’s forehead, making the receiving person yelp and rub at his forehead while Steve snickers and puts Eddie’s money in the register. While Eddie is busy bitching about the red mark that’ll appear on his face because of Steve’s attack, Steve slides the VHS tape into the brown haired boy’s back pants pocket by leaning over the counter a bit and smiles when he hears Eddie stutter and stammer in his speech on why Steve is now his mortal enemy despite being his boyfriend. He has a cherry blossom pink blush settled on his cheeks and Steve looks around for a second before kissing each cheek bone quickly to make sure he doesn’t get caught.
Eddie is no longer stuttering now, and instead has stopped talking all together. He at least has the decency to look around for a split second before attacking Steve’s lips in a sort of kissing attack. Steve kisses back and laughs lightly as Eddie’s lips meet his and pull back over and over before pushing his attacker away and watching as a bright grin overtakes Eddie’s face. He’s grateful nobody else is watching them, that he’s the only one that gets to see the smile only he seems to be able to bring out.
“I’ll pick you up at around… 9:30. Is that okay?” Eddie asks, hopeful.
“Mhm. I’ll be waiting for you.”
—
“I am sick and tired of you squealing in my ear, Steve! Just put on whatever. Eddie’s gonna fuck you in it either way.”
“Robin!” Steve says, not knowing if he should gasp or laugh, “Do not say that!”
“Whatever. I just don’t think you need outfit help, dingus. And you’ve distracted me from my solitaire!”
“Hyperfixated on solitaire or not, I give no fucks about what you were doing before this call. Just help me out, please!”
“Oh my God. Just… wear whatever. It. Doesn’t. Matter. He’ll love what you wear either way!”
“You are no help at all,” Steve groans, looking at his closet. He swears he had more than enough clothes yesterday, but now he seems to have no clothes at all.
“Steve, listen,” Robin says, “Eddie will love what you wear no matter what. You could wear a gross, used, dirty rag to your date and he’d still compliment it. Just wear what you’d usually wear on a date.”
“I have a Def Leppard shirt. He likes Def Leppard…” Steve trails off, hesitating before taking the shirt off the hanger and tossing it onto his bed. It’s a shirt from their Pyromania album, with the album cover on the front and the rest of the shirt off white. Steve focuses his attention on pants, having less trouble picking out pants and just pulling some bootcut jeans from a shelf just below his plethora of shirts and jackets. He tosses the pair of pants onto his bed as well, and listens to Robin shuffling her cards while trying to decide what to pick out next.
“Are you gonna wear your jacket?” Robin questions Steve.
“My leather one? Maybe,” Steve thinks out loud, “Actually… yeah, I am.” He pulls his leather Members Only jacket off its hanger and gives it the same treatment he did his other articles of clothing. He basically has an outfit now, but is still stuck on shoes.
“Mmm… Maybe converse?” Robin suggests offhandedly, focused on her solitaire game. Steve hums in acknowledgement.
“Rød, sort eller brun?” Red, black, or brown? Steve asks, kneeling down to reach his cases of shoes.
“...Brun.” Robin takes a second to answer. Steve nods, even though Robin can’t see him, and picks up his box of brown Converse. He grabs a random pair of socks and tosses both on his bed. He looks at his bedside table, checking the clock for the time— 9:12 PM it reads. He has barely any time to get ready, a whopping 18 minutes, but regardless he keeps his calm.
“Okay, thanks Robin! I’ll call you after, if I’m not asleep by then. Elsker dig.” Love you.
“Bye, good luck, love you, hope you get some di—” Steve hangs up before she can finish and takes a deep breath before stripping himself of his work clothes quickly. He swiftly puts on his planned outfit, and walks out to the bathroom, checking himself out in the mirror. He smiles at his outfit and looks down at the side of his sink. His glasses and hearing aid sit next to the faucet and he hesitates before picking up his glasses and putting them on. His hearing aid goes on next, into his right ear—in the left he could hear with the exception of pulsatile tinnitus, but in his right he was completely deaf, causing him to only use one hearing aid.
Once he’s done putting everything on, he grabs his shoes and walks downstairs, putting them on quickly and checking his hair in the small pocket mirror he carries with him before he hears the doorbell ring. He closes the mirror and pockets it, nervously running a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath and opening the door. Eddie Munson, in black ripped jeans and a Judas Priest 1983 tour shirt stands at his front door with a grin.
“Hey,” Eddie says, “Ready to go?”
“Mhm,” Steve confirms, walking out the door and following Eddie out to his van. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” Eddie winks at Steve, “You’ll love it, trust me.”
—
They get to a more secluded part of Skull Rock, one with trees almost creating a wall around them but still having a clear view of the night sky. Eddie puts down a blanket and lays down, beckoning Steve to come and lay down with him. He obliges, laying down next to Eddie and drags one of his arms over his chest so he can fidget with the rings on Eddie’s hands. Eddie smiles at him.
“I love the stars,” Eddie says.
I love you, Steve desperately wants to say, I love you and the stupid voices you do when you read Lord of the Rings for me. I love you and the millions of mixtapes you’ve made that you’ve never even listened to and instead gift to me. I love you and the way you get all pissy when you come home to see me putting Pretty in Pink into the TV, knowing I’ll only be talking about how amazing Duckie is the whole time.
But Steve doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, “I love the stars too.”