The Drive-In

13

Eddie knows this was probably stupid. He didn't have to make banana pancakes from scratch. He could be on his way to his van now and home, but he knew that shitty feeling after a meltdown only too well.

His reasoning being if he could see Steve eat something relatively healthy, he wouldn't worry all day. He knew that wasn't the only reason. He'd done this a lot of times.

Pancakes the morning after. The girls rarely stayed. Maybe realizing their mistake, or perhaps being uncomfortable in a trailer, he'd usually be up early making them because he'd been too excited to rest properly and had probably already spent a good hour watching them sleep peacefully next to him.

Now the emergency was over. He was trying to keep eye contact with Steve to a minimum because now Steve was wide awake and sober. Eddie was worried about how much his own eyes would give away. He never was that good at hiding his true feelings on his face. So he kept his head down and ate.

Eddie notices Steve is picking at his food,.moving it around more than actually eating it, "You haven't gotta eat them if you don't like them. No offence taken," Eddie says with a little false laugh.

The clang of Steve's fork against the plate makes Eddie look up from his food. Eddie tries to remember to look as calm as possible, like he did when he hid a secret during a hellfire campaign. But this time, he was full of dread instead of harbouring a feeling of excitement for the final reveal. He didn't know if Steve could remember everything, nothing, or something in between. His eyes go back to his food.

"Listen, Eddie," Steve starts, and Eddie feels his stomach churning, but he continues to eat and responds with a hum and absolutely is not going to take his eyes off his plate. He isn't. Nope.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I just...um...a few years ago. I was at my friend's house, and this guy broke in, and I think that maybe that's kinda stuck with me," Steve explains.

"Well, that must have been fucking terrifying. No need to apologize, man. I've had a few meltdowns in my time." Eddie looks up for a moment and tries to give a comforting laugh, "Nowhere near as violent though. I'm more a yelling, screaming, fainting kinda guy".

Steve's eyes look up to his, and Eddie couldn't look away for all the Gibson S.Gs in the world.

"Really?" Steve asks quietly, and though his mouth doesn't smile, his hypnotic eyes read hopeful, and they are searching for it in Eddie's eyes.

"Yeah, really," Eddie replies gently. Maybe more gently than he should have because Steve looks away.

Eddie clears his throat, reaches for his glass of juice, and takes a sip. Then, he nervously thumbs at his rings with his free hand under the table.

"I don't really remember much of the details after the pool last night," Steve starts, "But I feel like I had fun, and I hope I didn't do or say anything dumb, you know?"

"Same," Eddie laughs. Of course, it's a complete lie; he remembers everything, every look, every word, every touch, every move, but the laugh is genuine and of nervous relief.

To Eddie's surprise, Steve also laughs, and it's music to his ears. As he looks up, Steve discards his fork and picks up a pancake like a taco and bites it clean in half and then the other. His cheeks are packed like a hamster.

Eddie feels a warmth in his very soul, and he feels a huge grin split his face, "Don't ever let it be said that I don't bring good shit to the party," he says happily.

"Munson, I will never doubt you again," Steve replies, mouth partially full before he drowns a pancake in syrup and devours that one too.

A little warmth spreads across Eddie's face. He knows he's blushing, shakes his hair in front of his face to hide it, and eats a small, precisely cut square of pancake. He didn't always eat this delicately. More than anything, he wasn't hungry. Which he really should be. He should be ravenous, but his stomach feels full already of a billion butterflies.