The Drive-In

9

Eddie raises one hand to his contorted, confused face, the other pointing at Steve, "No, you're gonna have to backtrack on this plot, dude, because it sounds, to me, like that time-travelling little pervert is trying to bang his mom."

Steve lurches forward into Eddie's space and slurs out, "That's exactly what I said!! Thank you" Eddie receives a hard pat on his shoulder.

It had been some time and a substantial tower of beer cans since Eddie had almost spontaneously combusted in the kitchen. The only thing that seemed to make sense was, when he touched Steve's arms, the firmness of which Eddie again was trying to push out of his mind, it had set off a signal to Steve that they were in sports team mode. Because since then, Eddie had been winked at, shoved, patted, slapped on the back, an arm flung around him to squeeze his shoulders, and had a hand engulf his knee.

Eddie could say something, he probably should, but he was in such a state of shock about it he hadn't. He could move to the other sofa, but maybe this is how Steve hung out with that Robin guy. From what Eddie could tell, Steve was a little sensitive about getting things wrong, and honestly, he looked happy, and Eddie didn't want to be the guy to tear him down.

They weren't even watching the movie playing. Superman 2. That was probably Eddie's fault. He was getting fidgety, and the film was not engaging him in any way. He was wrestling with his brain. He couldn't stop thinking about that wink in the kitchen, so he tried to calm himself down, playing with his rings. Steve must have noticed because he started this conversation about this weird movie he'd seen a month or two ago.

Eddie pauses for a minute, "No, wait...from what you've said here, the Mom is way worse."

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie, "What d'you mean?"

Eddie settles into full animated, conspiracy-explaining mode, "It sounds to me like the Mom would have banged her son, but you know, she didn't know it was her son, right? So not her fault, but then when she does have a kid...she names him after this mysterious guy she had a crush on in the 50s?"

Steve is out of his seat, hand and beer can to his head, as he paces around, eyes wide as Eddie had just revealed another mystery of the universe to him. "Oh my God, dude! You're right! I hadn't even thought of that!"

With Steve now standing, Eddie grabs onto that opportunity thread and stands up too, but at the other end of the sofa, to avoid another hard slap of congratulations. He was still partially covered in rapidly developing bruises, though the alcohol was easing the pain somewhat.

Steve takes a swig of beer from his can, shakes it between his two fingers, and realizes it must be empty. Then his eyes catch Eddie's again. He tilts his head and smiles at Eddie.

Eddie can feel his defences crumbling.

"Damn, you're smart, Munson," Steve says before crushing the beer can against his head.

Eddie is clinging to the arm of the sofa like it's his last tether to this plane of existence. His body and brain control centres were currently in full submarine emergency mode: all red lights and whooping sirens.

The only function he can muster right now is to blink.

Fucking hell, he'd hit Eddie's kryptonite. Steve had called him smart. Twice!!

While Eddie was more than aware that Steve was no rocket scientist, he was still someone he'd never expected to receive this kind of compliment from. He'd never expected to be hanging out with him, especially not to be enjoying it.

Eddie needed to get out of this room for something green of his own.

Earth to Eddie!! Say something!!!

Eddie points at the crushed can in Steve's hand, "Well, that right there might be part of your problem, my man."

My man? My man???!! Eddie inwardly cringes hard. Why did he phrase it that way? Jesus!!

Steve looks confused, "Beer?"

"Well, Steve, that wasn't exactly what I meant. It was more the crushing it against your head. It was a dumb joke, sorry. Not looking so smart now, am I?" Eddie awkwardly laughs and gives him a big grin and shrug combo.

As he looks back up at Steve, he can see his eyes are wide. He slaps the sofa arm and is laughing, like, with audible Ho noises, a look of surprise on his face.

Eddie is perplexed, "It honestly wasn't that funny!" but Eddie laughs a little anyway because he's never seen Steve laugh like this. In complete free abandon, it's almost childlike, free from inhibition.

Steve catches his breath and points a wagging finger at Eddie, "You," he shakes his head and looks up at Eddie, "You called me Steve."

Eddie is still confused and furrows his brow, "Well, that is your name, buddy."

Steve is waving his hands in front of him and makes a buzzer sound, "Wrong! You call me Harrington, or King Steve, or tomorrow-Steve, or something else. Not just Steve" Steve puts his hands on his hips and spins the remote around in his hand before turning off the TV, "You...like me," Steve finalizes by turning off the TV.

Eddie wants to bolt for the door, but unfortunately for him, that door is behind Steve.

Quick, Eddie, think!!

"Yeah, well, you like me too. You've hugged me like a bajillion times!" Eddie scoffs and folds his arms.

Steve's eyes glance up softly into Eddie's, "First of all, I've hugged...well more like put my arm around you...like three times, if that, and," a smile plays melodically across Steve's face, "I do like you...Eddie."

Oh, God, no! No, no, no. No, this is not happening.

Eddie thinks for a moment he might have passed out and that this was some kind of nightmare. Eddie pinches himself discretely. Hard. It hurts. This is real.

Say something!!! Jesus Christ!!!

All the posts in Eddie's brain centre were abandoned. All he had available was the autopilot emergency system.

You need to get the reigns on this situation, Edward!!

He didn't mean it that way, and even if he did. Eddie liked girls, right? Right! And so did Steve! This was just because someone popular from high school had taken a shine to him, and he was just flattered. That was all. But for good measure, the sooner Steve went to sleep and wasn't touching him or complimenting him, the better. Or, at the very least, the weed would quiet Eddie's brain.

Eddie manages to huff out a laugh, "Well, who could blame you, man? I'm a very likeable guy." he reaches down to grab his lunch box and holds it up. "And if you would kindly lead the way, Steve, I'm about to get at least ten times more likeable."

"I dunno, man, I probably shouldn't" Steve glances at the tower of beer cans.

"Hey man, no problem here. More for me, right?" Eddie is desperately trying to get out of this increasingly warm room and into the fresh air, "It is kinda my original plan for this evening, though. You know, before all the running and fighting. Or...um...if you're worried about the neighbours or something, I can go home. It's totally cool," Eddie smiles, trying to give Steve options without making him feel pressured into anything. Eddie was not like that.

"No, I don't want you to go." Steve says suddenly, and it takes Eddie off guard, "I just...you know what..." Steve grabs for another can of beer, stabs a hole in it, and shotguns it.

Wiping his beer-glistening mouth with the back of his hand, Steve says, "Mood killer penalty, right?" and gives Eddie a little half smile, making Eddie feel like Steve is searching for his approval.

"Right." Eddie smiles back, still firmly gripping the sofa arm.

Steve walks out the door and turns back to look at Eddie over his shoulder, "Well, come on then," he says bossily, waving him over.