#he's so gay and he doesn't know it yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevebabey · 1 year

Text

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

5K notes · View notes

luandti · 1 year

Text

Museum AU (snippet)

Lucy Chen was angry. At HIM. Again.

“Is this really necessary?” she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at Tim Bradford, Head of Security.

He gave her an annoyed look in response.

“Listen, Chen. I do an important job here. Not all of us can make a living out of painting pictures of naked men.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. He knew damn well that wasn’t what her job was (she was actually an art teacher who worked in museum education). But ever since he had confiscated her flyers, looking for nude models for an art class, he made fun of her. Her co-worker Rachel had commented that it was a shame Tim Bradford didn’t volunteer because he was quote “fine as hell”. Lucy did absolutely not think about him naked after that, ever.

“What’s going on?” that was Angela Lopez who worked with Tim in security and from Lucy’s experience so far she was actually nice. Although, she looked pretty intimidating right now.

“I couldn’t get into the museum because my access card doesn’t work. Mr. super cop over there”, Lucy made an annoyed pointing gesture with her head in Tim’s direction, “pretends he doesn’t know who I am and sticks to protocol.”

Angela looked between them for a second. And Lucy could swear there was a gleam in her eye. “He called the cops on you?”

“I did not call the cops!”, Tim sounded exasperated. “I simply have to manually check her ID to make sure she actually works here”.

“You KNOW I work here”, Lucy said through gritted teeth.

Angela definitely had a gleam in her eye.

“Bradford”, Nyla Harper’s voice, laced with authority, came from accross the entrance hall. “You had your fun, now let her through”. Nyla was the co-head of security and Lucy loved her because she usually treated Tim like an annoying little brother.

Tim ignored Nyla. But after making a show out of looking closely at Lucy’s face and afterwards at her ID photo, he gave it back to her and let her pass. Angela promised she would be in touch as soon as they found out what was going on with her card.

“Ugh, he is the WORST”, Lucy was still angry when she entered the office which she shared with Rachel and Tamara, her roommate and intern.

“Tim again?”, Rachel asked and exchanged a meaningful glance with Tamara which Lucy choose to ignore.

“Why does he have to annoy me all of the time?”

“Are you sure that is what he does?” Tamara sounded amused.

“What are you implying?”

“I don’t know... I always thought he is kinda flirting with you?”

Lucy tried not to blush but failed. “He is not!”

She heard Tamara whisper “sure” under her breath and choose to ignore that, too.

The truth was Lucy had no idea what exactly she and Tim had going on. Sometimes she thought there might be something flirty there - especially after Nyla’s wedding last year when he had asked her to dance with him and actually smiled at her.

From the start she had not been intimidated by his tough exterior but seen it as a challenge. Sometimes she was extra cheerful whenever she intercated with him and in return he pretended to be annoyed by that. They had played pranks on each other, starting with Lucy stealing his money from him after he had lectured her about keeping her backpack in an “unsecure place” while she led a group of kindergartners through the museum (she had left her backpack in the break room like everyone else).

Sometimes they do share intimate stuff with each other, too. For example when Lucy had found out about Tim’s wife, Isabel, a former employee at the service desk who had been fired when she, repeatedly, came to work high. After not seeing her for over a year, Tim caught her stealing money from the museum. He had tried to cover up for her. But Lucy had seen him and decided to talk him out of it. She told him that he would regret helping Isabel. He had been angry with her at the time. But the next day she saw him entering Grey’s office. The museum director was generally a kind employer but he had reported Isabel to the police after that.

In the almost two years that had passed since then, Lucy had absolutely not asked Angela about Isabel at one point and had totally not felt a fluttery feeling in her chest when Angela had told her that after Isabel’s return from rehab, she and Tim had decided to get divorced.

Last May, when Lucy’s abusive ex-boyfriend Caleb had tried to contact her again and Lucy had been scared, Tim had noticed and walked her home from work for a month after that.

When her best friend Jackson, a fashion model, had been in a car accident and Lucy couldn’t find out what was going on, it was Tim who called one of his cop friends for information and later drove her to the hospital.

So, Lucy knew that Tim was actually a good peson. He was generally liked among his co-workers, too. Angela and him seemed to be best friends even.

But still there were a lot of times when Lucy and Tim were at each others throats. Like when she had tried to recruit naked models for her adult art class: Tim had taken all of her flyers away and said they were against museum policy. Lucy knew he had made that up.

Or the time when Lucy was so angry at him because he thought about marrying his then girlfriend Ashley, although, she didn’t like his dog, Kojo? What was he thinking?

------

Tim Bradford watched as Lucy Chen finally walked towards the elevators. Maybe he had been a bit over the top this morning, of course he knew who she was and there actually wasn’t any protocol which forced him to double check her ID. But he always enjoyed ruffling her feathers a bit.

“Timothy, you do know that you are beeing pretty obvious, right?”

Tim spun around, giving Angela what he hoped was an outraged look.

Angela couldn’t stop a teasing smile from appearing on her lips. “Ohhh... you really do like her then.”

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head gathering all of his patience.

“Ang... please not this again, he started walking back towards their office next to the Museum’s gigantic wooden entrance doors.

Angela followed him. “Tim is in looove”

“Angela! Stop it.” He opened the door to the small room full of monitors showing surveillance footage.

Entering behind him Angela was about to say something when Tim let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t want to talk about her, ok? Besides, she would never consider dating me.”

“Why are you so sure about that?”

“She knows about Isabel, ok? About what I almost did for her? How I couldn’t stop my wife from becoming a drug addict. How I was so bad at marriage that she choose to live on the street...”.

Angela stared at him for a moment. “So that is why you don’t ask her out? because you are ashamed of your divorce?”

Tim ignored her and sat down to go through his paperwork.

“Tim, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard”, Angela announced. “I am pretty sure Lucy is into you..”.

That caught Tim’s interest “Why would you say that?”

Angela rolled her eyes at him “I have told you this before you idiot: she asks me stuff about you sometimes.” Laughing quietly she added “she probbaly thinks she is low-key about it but she is really not.”

Tim thought about that for a minute. “Doesn’t matter she is dating that Chris guy from PR”. Tim said “Chris” with obvious distaste.

“No, they actually broke up a month ago”, none of them had realized that Smitty, the janitor, had stepped into the office.

“Smitty, do I wanna know how you found that out?” Angela asked carefully.

“I overheard her talking to Rachel”, Smitty revealed innocently.

“He still hasn’t ask her out, then?” Nyla appeared behind Smitty and Tim covered his face with his hands. Why was everyone involved in this?

“Oh, Timmy, don’t be sad”, Nyla gave him a playful clap on the shoulder.

“When you don’t ask her, I will...” Smitty couldn’t even finish his sentence before Angela and Nyla said in unison “No! Not again”.

Tim had enough. He walked past them, out of the building and took a deep breath on the sidewalk in front of Thorsen Art Museum.

---

I had the idea for this AU in my head for a while but I don’t have the patience or the time to write full fics (sorry ;)). But I wanted to bring it to life somehow. So here is a fraction of a Chenford Museum AU. I hope you enjoy this. Also I am sorry for any language mistakes.

Btw this is what I envision AU Lucy’s apartement to look like.

34 notes · View notes