Ok, but
Imagine Gareth getting ABSOLUTELY FED UP with watching Eddie and Steve moon over each other, convinced that it’s hopeless and completely oblivious that their feelings are, in fact, 100% mutual.
So he hatches a plan to, let’s say, hurry things along.
It’s a Hellfire Night. All are in attendance in the Wheeler’s basement, including- of course- Steve Harrington himself.
The ex-jock had finally quit pretending he’d rather be elsewhere, allowing himself to watch the session unfold with obvious interest.
It was hard not to be interested in Eddie’s narratives.
They were playing a one shot as Eddie’s larger campaign was still in the works.
Their party had just stopped off to rest in a tavern and stock up on supplies, the perfect place for Gareth to put his plan into action.
“I’d like to look for some company for the night,” he stated, fixing Eddie with a smirk.
As expected, Eddie didn’t so much as blink as the rest of the party burst into giggles, leaning over the table with a smirk of his own.
“Very well. Roll perception for me.”
Gareth does, proudly calling out a 17.
Eddie nods.
“You glance toward the mostly empty bar where the barkeep is pouring a glass of fine wine for a fair elven maiden. Her hair seems to glow a pale golden hue, and-“
“Tell me about the barkeep. What does he look like?”
Eddie’s eyebrows quirk, the first sign that he’s maybe catching on to Gareth’s intentions.
Still, he continues on.
“He’s… a half elf with dark hair and eyes, and a pale scar bisecting his face.”
“Is he handsome?” Gareth presses, earning a further raised brow from Eddie.
“He’s a half elf,” the DM replies dryly.
Gareth grins.
“I approach the barkeep with a charming smile, leaning on the bar and tossing down a couple gold pieces from the pouch on my belt.
“A flagon of mead, if you please.”
Gareth attempts to school his expression into something flirtatious.
Eddie snorts but pulls himself together fast, falling into character with the ease and practice of a master.
“That’s a rather bold display of wealth, hero. You should be cautious lest someone try to take that from you,” he says in a smooth tone.
Steve straightens in his seat, his interest very clearly piqued.
It’s almost too easy.
“Is that a threat?” Gareth says in a low voice, his smirk widening.
Eddie presses a hand to his heart, feigning very mild offense tinged with amusement.
“Not at all. Simply advice. This is a dangerous town after all.”
“Pity,” Gareth shrugs, leaning his elbow against the table and meeting Eddie’s gaze dead on.
“I wouldn’t have minded a threat from one as fair as you.”
“Roll charisma,” Eddie orders, eyes twinkling with mirth as Gareth snatches up his d20 and shakes it in his fist.
He can see Steve from the corner of his eye, doing his utmost to look unaffected, but Gareth could tell he was some sort of flustered if the way he was shifting restlessly in his seat was anything to go by.
Delightful.
Gareth takes in a breath before he looks down at his die.
“Nat 20, baby,” he announces much to the wild amusement of the party.
Eddie raises his hands to cease the excited chatter, leaning in on both elbows to meet Gareth’s gaze with a positively sultry look of his own, large eyes half lidded, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Would you not?” he questions with a mockingly innocent tone, tilting his head so his dark curls fall down over one shoulder.
“Threats are not typically well looked upon unless you have a- heh- preference toward punishment.”
As Mike and Lucas snicker, Gareth watches Steve.
His cheeks are tinged a noticeable pink, his eyes glued to the carpet beneath his shoes as if it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
Can’t have that.
Gareth decides to up the ante.
“And what if I do? What advice have you for that, fair one?”
Eddie eyes him up and down in character, leaning in even closer until he’s inches from Gareth’s face.
“The barkeep looks you up and down consideringly. He seems to like what he sees as he slams down your flagon of mead and pushes it and your gold over toward you.
“I would advise you finish your drink and head up to your room for the night,” Eddie finishes with a sly and salacious smirk, taking hold of Gareth’s chin with his calloused fingers.
“I’ll find you when I want you.”
And there it was.
Steve Harrington’s breaking point.
Steve stands quietly from his spot in the couch, muttering a quick excuse before rushing up the steps and out of the basement.
No one else seems to notice but Gareth.
It’s not long after Steve’s hasty retreat that Eddie calls for a break, everyone dispersing to seek out snacks and bladder relief.
Gareth makes his way upstairs after relieving himself, intent on rewarding his hard work with a slice of Mrs. Wheeler’s chocolate cake when a sound from outside catches his attention.
He approaches the window overlooking the backyard, slowly pulling the curtain aside to see…
Steve Harrington pinned against the side of the house with an armful of Eddie, their mouths connected in the most aggressive kiss Gareth has ever seen.
It looks like they’re trying their damnedest to eat each other, Eddie’s hands tangled in Steve’s hair, Steve’s shoved up the back of Eddie’s shirt.
Gareth holds back a snort at the loud thump that sounds as Eddie shoves his thigh between Steve’s legs, the ex-jock’s head smacking against the side of the house as he lets out a low groan.
With a self-satisfied grin, Gareth pulls the curtains closed once more, slices himself a nice big piece of cake, and trots back down the stairs to the rest of the party, pre-preparing an explanation for what exactly was keeping their DM.
The End 🖤
~Rabbit 🐇
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