Lock me up and Throw Way the Key

Lock me up and Throw Away the Key

Steve is idling his car in front of Max's trailer, having insisted on watching her walk to the trailer safely, much to her moody protests against it. He watches as she quickly stomps off and unlocks her door with a half-hearted middle finger flipped in Steve's direction. Steve just smiles and waves cheerily back to her, only resisting the urge to honk the horn at her due to it being so late at night. A rap on his window makes his stomach lurch as he whips around, wide-eyed, only to be met with Eddie Munson's wicked smile. This causes his stomach to lurch for a whole other reason. A reason only Robin and Steve, and Steve barely at that, are aware of. He takes a breath, flicks his hair, and winds the window down with a cool smile.

"Munson," he greets, failing miserably to scrape the shaky affection from his tone.

Eddie leans his arms against the roof of the car, peering down into the window to properly smile at Steve, "Hey Stevie, you visiting me?"

"Drop off," Steve huffs, nodding to Max as she disappears into the trailer.

"Uh huh," Eddie quirks his eyebrows expectantly, curls blowing across his fringe in the nightly breeze. He looks at Steve carefully for a moment, eye skimming around before locking with Steve's, "wanna get high and watch The Blob?" He offers, almost like a challenge.

Steve just stares at him, processing the bizarre proposal. Eddie Munson. The fucking Blob. Weed. 11 pm at night. When the fuck had that became something Steve is solidly considering accepting? And yes, maybe it has something to do with the soft, excited look in Eddie's wide brown eyes or the way he plays with the soft curls of his hair when he's feeling shy or concentrating. And maybe it also has something to do with Steve's deep-buried need to know what Eddie's up to, to know where he is. Or maybe there was something simply hypnotic about the way Eddie carries himself, the way he dresses and talks. It affects everyone. Steve thinks it affects everyone. Steve feels himself zone out a bit, appreciating the way Eddie's narrow hips lean, twisted slightly, as he holds his body casually against the side of his car. His black, ripped jeans snug on his thin hips, grey t-shirt lose and soft looking. Because, you know, he looks cool, he has like a cool, uh cool, laid back energy is all, Steve simply admires the skill to come across that way. Yeah. That's it.

"Yeah, sure man," Steve agrees, cutting the ignition. Eddie grins, all smug and content, and pushes away from the car to let Steve get out. Steve trails Eddie to his trailer, being escorted inside with a welcoming wave and bow.

"Welcome to the Munson residence once again Harrington, it's always a pleasure!" Eddie beams, well knowing that the last time Steve was here, they'd all almost died.

Steve just lets out a small, sarcastic laugh, "Oh, for sure."

Eddie smirks back at him and snags him by the hand, "this way," he says, like Steve doesn't fucking know where Eddie's bedroom is in the three-room trailer, he's been to several times before. Steve doesn't dwell on the specifics too much, he would if he could, but about 90% of his brain has now been swamped by the touch of Eddie's hand against his, the coolness of his silver rings pressing into Steve's fingers and just- Eddie. The remaining 10% of his brain is autopiloting him to follow helplessly along as Eddie drags him to his room.

"Tada, welcome to paradise!" Eddie drops Steve's hand to dramatically present the crowded bedroom to Steve with both hands outstretched. He immediately jumps to rummaging through an overflowing shelving unit. Steve just stands there, near the doorway, and admires Eddie's bedroom. It's the first time he's properly been able to have a look around, you know, with no life or death situations going about, and honestly, it's cool as hell. There are posters and sketches pinned up on the walls, an array of band posters and doodles and damn, Steve realizes, Eddie's pretty good at drawing. There's an actually wooden milk crate of vinyls in one corner with a worn-looking record playing on the self above it. Steve eyes Eddie's leather jacket on top of a dark pile of clothes stacked around the end of his bed, his bed looks snuggly, Steve smiles to himself softly thinking of Eddie curled up in the gentle morning light and... shit, maybe getting high and watching The Blob at 11 pm at night alone with Eddie Munson wasn't a great idea.