Chapter Text
Eddie doesn’t intend for his boxers to end up around his ankles.
It sort of just happens.
And he certainly didn’t intend for Steve Harrington to be inches away from him spending the night. That sort of just ends up happening too. So obviously one thing leads to another and…yeah. That’s how it happened.
Two years ago, this would have been a dream.
Maybe a nightmare.
Having Steve Harrington this close to him, having him in his bedroom sleeping on a tiny rollaway mattress beside his bed while his uncle’s away working an overnight shift at the plant. Watching a movie inches away from him, their hands awkwardly placed beside each other, neither of them really speaking much or looking at the other. That wouldn’t have been possible two years ago.
The two of them hated each other.
Like. Hated.
Couldn’t be around each other in the hallway without making a quick remark at the other, about making some threat they obviously wouldn’t do but in the moment fully meant. Steve might have punched him once. Honestly, Eddie might’ve bit him. Warranted, of course. Probably.
But it wasn’t just Steve Harrington that Eddie couldn’t stand back then.
It was all of them.
All of those wanna-be-hot-shit popular douchebags with varsity letters on various teams, which rich mommies and daddies who gave half a shit about them and let them throw whatever kind of parties they wanted. The basketball players who punched down on anyone they considered less-than-normal. For the heavy metal garage-band-playing and dungeon master of his own Dungeons & Dragons club…yeah, you can understand which side he was on.
Not Steve’s.
Hence the equal tormenting of each other.
The summer after senior year they mellowed out.
Well. The summer after Steve’s senior year he mellowed out.
Eddie was stuck in school for another year.
But somehow Steve Harrington made it…bearable?
It wasn’t what Eddie expected, obviously. He hadn’t expected to pop into Family Video for a copy of Star Wars to watch with his bandmates only to find Steve sitting behind the register, fingering through some comic book with his untied laces on the counter. Eddie wanted to leave that very second, to maybe punch him in the face and storm out. But Steve sort of just glanced up at him from behind the cartoon pages, and his eyes seemed to smile when he set his aside.
“What’re you looking for?” he asked.
At first Eddie just assumed he didn’t recognize him. So he sort of mumbled Star Wars, and watched Steve push out of his chair to help him. He was fine with that. Steve Harrington not knowing who he was. At the time it seemed preferable. But then Steve asked him about his club at school…asked him if it was still doing good.
“Yeah man,” Eddie answered, not really expecting it.
They never apologized to each other.
Not verbally at least.
Maybe Steve helping him find that movie was his apology. Well. It was his job. But maybe it was his apology too. And maybe Eddie bringing by a comic book every week for Steve was his sort of apology. Maybe it was the reason the two of them were able to be friends that summer, meeting up after work with Robin to go to the arcade or the movies, the three of them laughing together, spending nights together.
But now it was just the two of them.
Alone in Eddie’s bedroom.
Robin couldn’t make the sleepover that night, her and Nancy were studying together. So it was just the two of them. Just him and Steve, Steve already fast asleep on the mattress beneath them, leaving Eddie to stare up at the ceiling, his cock aching in his boxers.
Jesus Christ.
He had a crush on Steve Harrington.
And it sort of just happened.
One day he hated him, the next they were fine, and after that every time Eddie was around him he couldn’t help but get this twisting feeling in his gut…couldn’t help but feel like the back of his neck was on fire, like he couldn’t eat around him.
Eddie didn’t want the sleepover to be just the two of them.
It didn’t feel right. Him liking Steve and Steve not liking him back. It felt like a date one of them didn’t agree to be on, who didn’t even know it was happening to begin with.
Still, Eddie can’t help the way he feels, can’t help the warm churning feeling in his stomach, in his groan. Can’t help but hover his hand over the outline of his cock, even through his boxers, willing it to go down, to go away entirely. He pinches at the fabric, runs his fingers up the sides, shudders desperately under his own touch. Taps at the head of his cock, feels the little circle of dampness underneath his fingers, already leaking through the fabric.
Eddie inhales sharply, biting the inside of his cheek before hesitantly circling his thumb around the head of his cock, rubbing around the side. He leans his head back, sinking into the pillow, closing his eyes for a moment, humming lightly.
So much for making his hard on go away.
Now it’s the only thing he can think about, the rest of his untouched cock throbbing, weeping, as he drags his palm down the rest of his length, tries to wrap his fingers around himself even through the fabric.
It’s not really jerking off, right?
If it’s through your boxers?
“Fuck,” he lightly hiccups, cheek pressing into his pillow as he lets out a tiny whine, hand working himself faster now, that little dark circle of pre-cum growing damper now. He can’t help his hips rolling up into his hand, searching for any bit of friction, boxers now clinging wetly to his cock as he humps into his palm, bottom lip held tightly between his teeth to keep himself quiet.
Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this.
He should just run off to the bathroom, jerk off in the shower like everyone else.
But here he can’t help himself, can’t help but wrap his fingers over his mouth, let out tiny sounds into the palm of his hand as Steve breathes softly just a few inches away, completely unaware. The part of him that would usually feel gross is drowned out by his own ache to be touched outside of his boxers.
So that’s what he does.
Eddie reluctantly slips his hand into his boxers, finally gets a steady grip on his cock while shimmying out of his underwear, letting the slick fabric travel down his thighs, bunching at his knees. His breath shutters as he pumps the full length of his cock underneath his blanket, other hand still tight over his mouth as if it makes a difference, as if desperate little sounds aren’t spilling out between his fingers.
“Ffuuckk,” he whispers, muffled in his hand as he feels his fingers fully wrap around himself.
His thighs part wider in an instant, almost instinctively, twitching as he rocks into his hand, half jerking himself off and half fucking into his palm. The sheets shift and rustle underneath him, the blanket on top of him twitches with the shlickshlickshlick of his hand, barely hiding anything for anyone keen enough to take a small peek.
It’s filthy, his boxers twisting tight at his knees as he tries to open his legs just a little wider, just to get a little more space, until he finally just squirms to shove them down lower, tugging at them with his free hand before they sit around his ankles, half-kicked off now, lazily caught on a single foot. The muscles in his stomach squeeze tight, cock pulsing now in his grip, his shaft glossy. Every stroke slaps slick and hot against his stomach, he’s practically biting his knuckles now to keep himself quiet, turning his cheek into the pillow when he needs to let out a long whine.
Eddie’s thighs tremble.
He pretends his hand his Steve.
He pretends it’s Steve’s mouth, warm and tight, working around him, bobbing up and down on his length, taking every inch of him. For a moment he fucks into his hand, trying to replicate the feeling of hitting the back of someone’s throat, spreading his legs a little wider, planting his feet for half a moment, sheets clinging to the sweat and dampness of his body. The next moment he takes his time to drag his fingers up his cock, pumping slowly, imagining Steve slowly working him, slowly jerking him off. He imagines Steve above him, whispering in his ear, begging him to cum.
Eddie can’t take it anymore, the restlessness of trying to keep still. With a muffled groan into his palm he rolls onto his stomach, cock pressing sticky and hot against the sheets. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to do, but the sudden friction against the head of his cock makes him whimper, makes him slowly push his hips into the mattress, glide his cock against the sheets. He swallows a groan, letting out a tiny hiccup instead, lip caught in his teeth as he rocks his hips again, rhythmically fucking into the bundle of sheets below him, feeling his cock enveloped in friction and his own pre-cum.
Reaching one hand under his body, trying to balance himself on his other elbow, Eddie wraps his fingers around his cock again, muffling any desperate sounds into the pillow below him. It’s messy, Eddie thrusting into his fist, cock sliding wet between his palm and the heat of the sheets, hips rolling in little circles, half-humping the fabric below him.
There’s a faint squelch every time the tip of his cock smears pre-cum into the sheets. Every grind into the fabric makes it cling tighter to him, makes him gasp into the pillow, makes his plant both his hands and just rolls his hims into the mattress, over and over and over again.
“Mm--ahh—f-fuck,” he whimpers, voice soft, hips bucking helplessly, rutting into the mattress like an animal in heat, chasing friction wherever he can find it. It’s desperate. It’s almost pathetic, fucking his own mattress, leaking into his sheets, wishing it was Steve. Wishing it was Steve he was fucking, wishing he had a tight grip on his hips and could just slide into him, could feel his tight walls around him, pulling him in deeper. Wanting to feel Steve’s back against his chest, the hot press of their bodies, Steve’s thighs parted wide enough for him, spreading wider with each thrust. He wants to hear Steve moan…wants to know what it sounds like to fuck one sound after another out of him, to hear him whimper, to make him beg for it. Make him beg for his cock, make him beg to feel Eddie push a little deeper, beg for him to let him cum.
“Fff—hahhh, St-Steve–” he sighs into his pillow, muffled but slightly audible, a soft creak to the mattress now, hand returning to wrap around his cock. He doesn’t care if he cums right there in that bundle of sheets. He can feel the tightness growing in his stomach, throat bobbing. He fucks into his hand a little harder as if it’s Steve, wishing he had Steve pinned underneath him. Better yet on top of him, or maybe next to him. Fuck, he wanted Steve in every possible way, to hear every noise he could make, to feel every position he could fuck him in.
Eddie forgets there’s someone else in the room with him entirely.
Forgets the person is Steve.
That is, until he hears the sound of someone clearing their throat from the floor.
━━━━⊱༒︎ ༒︎⊰━━━━
Eddie has been jerking himself off for the last fifteen minutes.
At first, Steve wasn’t sure if he heard right.
A soft sound fills the air, half-muffled, so much so Steve doubts himself if he’s heard it at all. A brief rustling of sheets, the heavy shifting of a body atop a mattress. He leaves it up to Eddie just being a light sleeper, the kind of person who tosses and turns a lot during the night, who can’t find the right position, who lets out a noise or two when he’s having a particularly bad dream.
That’s all he thinks of it.
But then the sheets seem to move a little faster.
It’s a quiet rustle. But in the silence it’s impossible to miss.
Then Eddie sort of makes a hiccuping sound, muffled as well, but high in his throat.
Steve sort of assumes he’s having a bad dream, it’s the sort of thing he’s curious about. So carefully, silently, he props himself up on his elbows, takes a half peek over the edge of the bed.
Eddie isn’t having a nightmare.
Quite the opposite, actually.
Laying there, eyes screwed shut tight and hand clasped over his mouth, soft pants slipping through his fingers and sheets rustling over his fist, Eddie is jerking himself off, pumping his cock underneath the blankets.
In an instant Steve falls back to his mattress, staring up at the ceiling.
Holy shit.
A small, muffled whine comes from the bed above him. There’s a soft, undeniable shlick.
Holy shit.
Steve doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know if he should say something? No. No, no, no, no. That would make it tens times worse, that would be…yeah, that wouldn’t be great. He can’t mention it, he’ll never mention it. Instead, he just decides to lay there, close his eyes again and turn on his side. He can ignore it. He can fall asleep again and by the time he wakes up it will be just a dream. Eddie will deny it, he’ll doubt himself over it even happening in the first place, and they can continue being friends.
The last thing Steve wants is to ruin what they have over this.
The fact that they were able to be alone tonight is heaven on Earth. He can’t ruin that.
Another muffled moan.
Jesus Christ, Eddie is making it next to impossible to fall asleep.
Slowly but surely, Steve feels himself stiffening in his boxers, feels the imprint of his cock tightening behind the fabric. He lets out a small breath, chewing his bottom lip as he lays there, trying his best to fall asleep but every small sound Eddie makes, every shifting of the fabric Steve can only assume is him pumping his cock…it goes straight to Steve’s dick. Makes it ache. Makes his cock twitch, untouched.
He swallows thickly, hesitantly fiddling with his boxers, hesitantly pushing them down just below the rounding of his ass. Just enough for his cock to spring free, for the tip to kiss the thin, cold sheet covering him, as if that will make it better, as if that will make it go away.
“Ffuckkk,” Eddie hisses from above him, straining.
Steve’s cock twitches.
With a small breath, he reluctantly slips his hand under the sheets. Wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. Just sort of holds it for a moment, squeezes it, testing the waters as if Eddie hasn’t done that already. He just lays there and breathes, cock in his hand, half getting off on the sounds Eddie’s making, the other half not being enough.
Steve shouldn’t.
He knows he shouldn’t.
It would be wrong…Eddie being so close, Steve jerking off to the sound of his breathing, the sound of his hand on his cock. But how own dick is aching and practically leaking in his hand, twitching at every broken sound his friend lets out.
So he does it anyway.
Slowly tightens his grip, fingers curling as he drags his hand up his length and then back down. Slowly, barely even there. Timidly pumping his cock. It’s just a little touch. It doesn’t count if it’s slow…it doesn’t count as jerking off to your friend’s moaning as long as you’re quiet and do it slowly. Everyone knows that.
There’s a soft shlick of his own precum as his fingers curl around his tip.
“Ahhh-” Eddie whimpers, high and wrecked.
Steve’s cock throbs.
Is he even trying to be quiet?
Maybe that’s what Eddie wants. Maybe he wants Steve to hear him, wants him to say something…wants him to climb into bed and…fuck, the things he would do to him. The things Steve would do to Eddie right now. His grip tightens as he rolls his hips into his hand now, doing a much better job of being quiet, thumb smearing pre-cum down the length of his cock, still throbbing in his grasp.
Fucking into his grip, Steve breathes in and out shakily through his nose, a noise kept tight int he back of his throat, begging to be let out despite himself. Instead he just pumps his cock a little faster.
The mattress shifts above him. Creaks. Not once. Not even twice. Instead, it softly creaks in a shaky rhythm, bouncing into the headboard with each movement of Eddie’s body. He isn’t just touching himself anymore, he’s grinding into his sheets in small movements. The noise is faint, the noises Eddie are making, they’re all muffled into his pillow. Low groans are swallowed by the fabric, but he lets out a little hiccup every so often.
Fuck, he must feel so good.
It’s all Steve can think, how desperate Eddie must be, how flush his cock must be by now, how pretty it must look. Friends don’t think about each other’s dicks, but that’s the only thing Steve wants to think about. What it looks like. What it tastes like. What it would feel like inside him, so deep inside him.
Steve clamps his free hand over his mouth, trying to trap every shaky sound.
It’s one thing to jerk off with another person in the room.
It’s another thing to jerk off to a person jerking off.
Every drag of his fist makes his hips twitch up, makes him stutter a breath into his hand, cock leaking over his knuckles. He just smears it down his length and strokes harder, wet sounds muffled by his hand as he bites back each whimper.
“Ahhh, hnngh, f-fuck,” Eddie pants into the mattress, voice so needy.
The bedframe is creaking slightly now. It’s obscene how desperate he is. It makes Steve’s cock pulse in his hand, makes his thighs spread wider under his blanket, the sheets practically slipping off him entirely, one leg poking out. It’s absolutely shameless, hips rolling helplessly into his fist, working his cock so needily, pushing himself closer to the edge.
Steve forces himself to slow down.
Doesn’t want to bear what post-nut clarity he’s going to feel after jerking off to his friend getting off. Just wants to feel good…just wants to listen to Eddie’s ragged breathing, listen to each of his little noises. He can’t stop listening. Can’t stop imagining it’s not Eddie’s mattress taking it, but him. His cock throbs painfully at the thought.
God, he’s going to cum if Eddie keeps going at this unbearable pace, Steve trying to match him but not finding the stamina.
““Fff—hahhh, St-Steve–” Eddie breathlessly moans.
Steve has to bite down hard on his own hand to keep himself silent.
His hand stops in his track, settling around the base of his cock. He inhales shakily. The creaking of the mattress continues.
Maybe he isn’t imagining things.
Heart pounding in his chest, Steve scrambles to tug up his boxers, motivated by nothing but pure lust and the spur of the moments. Absentmindedly he clears his throat.
The creaking stops. The mattress stills. There’s the soft flop of a body rolling over, a rustle of sheets. And then silence. Shit. Steve waits in the stillness.
Neither of them say anything.
There obviously isn’t much to be said.
“You alright, man?” Steve hesitantly asks, sitting up on his knees.
Peeking over the edge of the mattress, Eddie has curled up on his side, feigning sleep, the sheets wrapped over himself, baring his back and shielding himself toward the wall. Steve nearly rolls his eyes with amusement.
Yeah right.
Because everyone gets night terrors where they have to jerk off and then hump the bed.
“Eddie?” He firmly presses.
As if to say…I know you’re awake.
As if to say.
I know what you did. What you were doing.
“I-I…f-fuck, I didn’t–” Eddie starts, cutting himself off every word, reluctantly rolling onto his back, sheets twisting with him. He fixes them to stop them from bunching around his cock, from revealing a secret Steve already knows. “It wasn’t — y-you…it’s…it wasn’t what you think.”
“Yeah?” Steve mumbles, coyly pressing his chin to the mattress.
“Yeah,” Eddie weakly repeats, less conviction. “I-I, f-fuck I thought–”
“Thought I was asleep?” he presses.
“I mean–”
“Thought I wouldn’t hear you?”
Eddie doesn’t say anything as Steve silently lifts himself onto the mattress, hovering over him now as he sits at the edge of the bed. He can smell it on him. The shame. The sweat. The sex. Dry humping his bed until the sheets dampen, pumping his cock until it’s throbbing and leaking. Steve can see it in his eyes. Clouded lust. He can see that Eddie was so close to summing…so close to chasing release while pretending the bundle of sheets under him was Steve.
His breath catches as Steve shifts closer, the mattress dipping under his weight now.
Wide, dark eyes follow Steve’s every movement, squinting at him through the darkness and softening as he draws near. His throat bobs in his throat, knuckles fisting at the sheets near his hips, seemingly pinned underneath Steve’s gaze.
“I-I…I didn’t mean…” Eddie murmurs, his lips parting as he lets out a stammered breath. “I was just—”
“I know you were thinking about me,” Steve whispers.
A heavy silence follows. Eddie’s chest rises and falls. His thighs twitch where they’re still pressed together.
“I…that’s not…” he insists, cheeks darkening.
“It’s okay if you were.”
Eddie swallow thickly, grip on the sheets loosening.
“You…”
“I could hear you,” Steve murmurs. “The whole time. I couldn’t sleep all night.”
“Steve, I–” Eddie apologetically starts.
“I liked it.”
Steve’s fingers pinch gently at the sheets. A layer of fabric, so thin, shielding Eddie’s body. Eddie doesn’t say anything, his grip hesitantly releasing as he allows Steve to peel back the sheets, cock springing free in an instant.
It’s everything Steve expected.
Flushed, wet at the tip, throbbing from being worked to the edge.
Eddie lets out a small breath, legs twitching apart just slightly.
Steve doesn’t say anything, just hums. Lets his hand settle on Eddie’s thigh, thumb stroking the hot, damp skin there. He drags it higher, up the inside of his thigh. He feels Eddie’s thighs shake, watches his cock twitch on instinct. Listens as his breath quickens in his throat, as he allows his head to fall back for a brief moment, as if he’s holding back a moan and Steve’s barely even touched him.
“Do you do this all the time?” Steve murmurs.
“N-no,” Eddie stammers, head turning to the wall, blush with embarrassment. His thighs part further as Steve’s hand brushes close to the base of his cock. It’s practically shimmering with pre-cum gathered at the tip.
Steve wants to swallow him whole.
“You want me to touch you?” he exhales.
“M-mhm,” he shakily hums.
Steve finally lets a single fingertip, the pad of his thumb, tease slow circles around the tip of Eddie’s cock, watching in delight as Eddie arches slightly, an involuntary whimper breaking loose. He’s so sensitive, Steve can see it. See it in the way he trembles, the way he breathes shakily through his nose. Eddie’s propped on his elbows now, watching Steve touch him, watching Steve toy at his tip in small circles.
“Fffuck—hahhh,” Eddie pants, voice high and shaky, hand fisting at the sheets.
“You wanted to fuck me, huh?” Steve coos, fingers curling firmly around Eddie’s cock, dragging up and down his length ever so slightly, just to listen to the tiny choked sound fall from his lips, just to watch his fingers flex into the sheets.
“I-I–” Eddie stammers, unable to answer, watching with those beautiful doe eyes as Steve’s fist pumps his cock, watching his weeping cock drooling pre-cum into his hand. Listening to the shlickshlickshlick, up and down and up and down, his lips parting and closing as he tries to search for the words, letting out little helpless croaks instead.
“You wanted to feel me under you…wanted to fuck me all night,” he whispers, low and devastatingly calm, dragging his thumb across the tip of Eddie’s cock before curling his fist tighter.
“F-fuck,” he chokes, voice caught in his throat.
Every pump of Steve’s fst drags another hiccupy little moan out of him instead of an answer.
“C’mon, you can say it,” Steve murmurs, breath spilling out hot, barely escaping his lips. “You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you? Wanted to feel your cock so nice and dee inside me?’
Eddie lolls his head to the side, curls sticking damp to his forehead. His hips roll helplessly, chasing the friction of Steve’s fist, fucking into his hand now with sloppy, eager thrusts. Steve lets him, watches him, watches him try and fail to plant his feet on the bed, watches how desperately he thrusts into Steve’s hand. Watches how he closes his eyes, can’t even look back at him.
“Y-yeah,” he stammers between breaths. “Fuckkk—God, Steve, y-yeah, mhm, fuck.”
Eddie’s thighs spread wider, knees almost buckling.
“Wanted me to ride you, huh?” Steve teases, his tone painfully sweet, painfully cruel. Almost playful now, savoring every second of this, watching Eddie come undone underneath him, feeling him dripping into his hand. “Wanted me to spread myself open on your cock?”
Eddie’s breath hitches.
“Or did you want to bend me over?” he presses, not expecting any answer but an incoherent sobbing moan. “Hm? Push me down over your bed? Barely get my underwear down? Fuck me until I’m crying?”
“Hahh,” Eddie moans, stomach tightening now, cock seizing into Steve’s hand.
He’s so close, Steve can feel it. Can feel the rolling of his hips growing sloppier, watches as his eyelids flutter as he lazily watches Steve pumping his cock, unable to look some times, unable to hold his head up. His moans grow more broken, more drawn out.
“You’re so wet,” Steve murmurs, leaning over him now, practically breathing into his jaw, fist working faster, merciless almost. “You wanted to be inside me so bad, hm? Wanted to fill me up? Fuck your cum into me?
Eddie sobs through a sharp inhale, clutching the sheets so tightly they threaten to rip.
That’s all it takes to finally send him over the edge, for an orgasm to rip out of him, leaving him cumming into Steve’s fist, the rest of it dribbling down the side back onto his cock. He thrusts sloppily into Steve’s grip for a few more seconds, panting as he rides out his orgasm.
It isn’t long before he practically collapses back onto the bed with a heavy sigh, cock twitching, cum drooling down the side of his length. Steve watches him for a moment, watches the rise and fall of his chest, how it falters every other breath. He watches his cock, still flush and throbbing, sort of flop to his stomach with defeat. He lazily hands Eddie a wad of tissues from the side of his bed.
It doesn’t help that Steve is still aching in his boxers, the imprint of his cock obnoxiously present as it presses into the fabric. He watches Eddie clean himself up, watches him sharply inhale as the tissues brush past his tip, watches him stare up at the ceiling afterward.
Well. If he falls asleep, Steve supposes he’ll just have to jerk off in the shower.
“Was it true…?” Eddie softly asks, voice a croak, still wrecked, lolling his head over to look at him. “Wh-what…what you said…”
He’s hardly even caught his breath yet.
“About what?”
Steve meant every word of what he said.
But he wants to hear Eddie say it. Hear him ask it.
Eddie’s throat bobs apprehensively.
“That…that you wanted me to fuck you…?” he finally complies.
The words go straight to Steve’s cock, still aching, still throbbing.
“Mhm,” Steve exhales, shifting on the bed now, feeling the mattress dip underneath him. “Yeah.”
The answer sits in the air for a moment. Lingers. Hangs as they both stare at each other, as they both wonder what the other is going to do. It isn’t long before Eddie is pushing himself up from his elbows, practically crawling to Steve, slotting their lips together in an instant. It’s not gentle. It’s hungry. Steve can feel Eddie’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip before biting at it, can feel his hands settle on his shoulders.
Before he knows it, Eddie’s pushed him down, his head falling to the opposite end of the bed, feet near the headboard. He can’t help but breathlessly giggle, can’t help but feel giddy with Eddie on top of him. His giggle turns to an aching whine as he feels the press of Eddie’s cock against his thigh, still aching, still yearning, nearly as hard as he was before. Just shifting there, teasing his inner thigh.
“We have the house to ourselves for a few more hours,” Eddie murmurs.
They’re both serious.
Steve parts his thighs a little further, lets Eddie slot his hips between them, feels the press of Eddie’s cock against his, even through his boxers. Feels him grinding there, rubbing into him, and for once he’s the one breathless.
“Yeah…” Steve softly agrees, a whisper. “We do.”