love me softly p3
@acitytokeepyoursecrets tags on this post she gets it god bless
@urmomification @legitcookie @deleataecount :)
Eddie doesn’t like that he’s into Steve Harrington, so he does what he does best: acts like a dick and annoys Steve into hating him even more than he already did.
But it’s doesn’t even seem to be working. Even when he stands on cafeteria tables and shouts about pompous rich kids and their shiny cars.
Steve just looks up at him, while the others sneer and throw insults and fries at him. He almost smiles a lot of the time, his expression light. Amused. He just watches, eating quietly while Eddie shouts and yells and cackles when Tommy H throws something at him and misses. (Steve covers his mouth. Eddie thinks he’s laughing too.)
When Eddie sits again, Gareth is almost glaring at him, his elbow on the table, his fingers to his forehead, like he’s watching a house fire. He tells Eddie it’s a bad idea. The others don’t know what they’re talking about but they don’t really care.
Eddie knows it’s a bad idea to taunt Steve and his friends. That he’s just painting a bright red target on his own back. But he can’t really help it.
Especially not when Steve starts responding, flipping Eddie the bird while Eddie’s up on a table, tilting his head adorably when Eddie comments that he looks like a Christian summer camp counsellor.
Tommy just comments that at least Steve can buy new clothes. Eddie just fires back that money can’t buy better taste, bitch. Steve snorts even though it’s a dig on him.
It goes on for a while. The teasing. The stares. The suppressed smiles and laughter.
But it actually starts on a Friday.
Eddie has detention. (Shocker.) The only reason he actually goes is because Mr Peterson isn’t an asshole. He’s friendly, even to Eddie.
Greets him as “Mr Munson,” looks at the pink detention slip before raising a single eyebrow at Eddie and tells him to sit with a soft shake of his head and a smile.
And Eddie turns to find Steve sitting in the back, watching him. Eddie’s grin falters and then widens, his head tilting as he raises his eyebrows, and Steve’s face turns red. He looks away. Eddie goes to sit with him, still grinning.
The room is quiet. There aren’t many others here, a few of them doodling on tables or sleeping. Peterson doesn’t care. (Another reason Eddie likes him.)
“What’d you do?” Eddie asks quietly, sitting too close to him.
Steve just looks down at his notebook. It’s closed, a pen laying on top of it. Eddie wants to flip through it.
“Nothing.”
“Steve Harrington is in detention,” Eddie says dryly. “You did something.”
“Nuh-uh.”
Eddie snorts. Steve glances at him. He’s smiling, and his cheeks are still flushed, and Eddie might die.
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Ste-e-e-eve, what’d you do?”
“Oh, we’re on a first name basis now?”
Eddie blinks. He’s only called him Harrington. Steve’s never called him anything.
“Yeah, I guess. Tell me what you did.”
“…Called Collins a jackass. In front of him.”
Eddie drops his head to the table.
“Incredible.”
“What did you do?”
“Forgot my homework.” He lifts his head. “Seven times.”
Steve snorts.
“Of course.”
They’re not allowed to talk during detention. It’s too quiet for them to even whisper with Peterson hearing, the room silent except the scratching of someone’s pencil and the occasional cough or sigh.
Eddie lowers his head to the table, ready to take a nap or zone out or something, but Steve opens the notebook. Eddie turns his head to look, his cheek pressing against the cold surface, and Steve doesn’t notice.
Eddie sits up to watch. Steve flips through the pages, and Eddie catches a glimpse of a drawing, so he reaches out and take the notebook wordlessly. Steve makes a small indignant ugh. Eddie shushes him.
Eddie flips through the pages slowly, looking at Steve’s handwriting. It’s pretty. Almost girly. Every page has random, half-understandable notes, without any kind of indicating header that might include the subject or date.
He thinks he’s getting closer to the drawing, because Steve reaches out to take the notebook again. Eddie swats his hand away, and Steve drops his head to the table with soft groan.
Eddie grins.
He finds the drawing. It’s a messy pencil sketch, scratchy snd scribbled and smudged and shitty, but easily recognisable.
His grins falters, and he blinks, his eyes tracing the lines of his own curls, the angle of his own nose, the curve of his eyelashes.
He turns to look at Steve, who’s now hiding his face in his shirt, looking away from Eddie.
Eddie lays back on the table, his chin propped on his arms as he gazes at the drawing again.
Steve lets him keep the notebook until the end of detention.
part four
read the whole thing ao3
2K notes
·
View notes