Next chapter preview of my fake dating au! It’s practice kissing time:
“Alright so, I guess the next question is…” Steve clears his throat, “How did this start? Go on, you’re the big uh, fantasy storyteller so do your thing. What’s ours?”
Eddie smacks the pen down in the crease of the notebook and folds it shut in his lap, like he was just waiting for Steve to ask.
“Well, we should go with something that sounds believable so… we were definitely a little high when we first got together.”
“Yeah for sure.”
Eddie turns on the couch cushion with an animated look, “A night up on the roof under that starry Indiana sky, the finest of nature’s herbs burning between us, my glorious locks blowing in the wind and putting The Hair himself to shame. I had my guitar out, treating you to a private metal affair. Can you picture it?”
“Mm, wow what a sight,” Steve goes along with it, spurring Eddie’s enthusiasm.
“You were mesmerized by my godlike guitar skills. See, I slowed it down with a nice sexy solo to woo your pants off, something like—”
He makes a show of his best air guitar, mimicking the whine of the chords and slowly nodding his head along, getting deep into character. His knees nudge Steve’s thighs as he leans back on the couch.
“Easy there, rockstar. I feel my belt loosening already, if you keep going my pants are just gonna fly right off.”
Eddie laughs as he lays his air guitar to rest, “Yeah just like that, you were laying on the Harrington charm real thick and flattery works on me, so then I made the first move and—”
“Hey, hold on, back up. Why do you get to make the first move?”
Eddie counters, “Thought I was tellin’ the story here.”
Steve’s half-joking, “Well, it’s more believable if I made the first move, just saying.”
“Your logic being…?”
Now Steve kicks it up to half-serious, “Because I’m Steve Harrington and Steve Harrington always makes the first move. That’s how this works, alright?”
Eddie pauses, head tilted like he’s sizing Steve up, “Okay then. Make the first move.”
A beat, Steve’s brows furrow.
“What, you mean right now?”
“Ah, Steve Harrington, the man with all the moves,” Eddie goads, “Could’ve fooled me since every time we touched today, you almost shit yourself.”
No, Steve Harrington is not blushing, “I have no idea what you’re talking—”
“No, no. You did and that’s understandable,” Eddie tones down from teasing to just talking now, “See, you may be the “move-maker” when it comes to any chick that walks by in Hawkins, but I get the feeling you’ve never made a move on a guy before.
“And since we’re doing this thing, you don’t want the first time to be in front of an audience, Steve. Especially when I’m your faux beau and it’s supposed to look like you’re used to locking lips with me.”
It takes Steve’s mind a second to absorb Eddie Munson’s mouthful of words and flurry of hand gestures that clink with metal jewelry.
“So what, you’re saying we should have like… another trial run?”
Steve pointedly ignores the nerves fluttering in his throat. If Eddie notices in his voice, he doesn’t mention it.
“In case you freeze up or something and blow our cover,” he shrugs, “It’s gotta look convincing if we’re really gonna pull this off, y’know.”
Steve has to joke or he’s going to blush again, “You seriously wanna practice kissing like we’re stupid teenagers at a sleepover?”
A slow smirk spreads on Eddie’s lips, “Shit, now I really wish I would’ve been invited to one of your famous sleepovers in middle school. Dudes only, right?”
“Oh ha ha, you think you’re so cute, don’t you? Knock it off.”
“Oh lighten up, Stevie, it was just a suggestion. Don’t have to, o‘course.”
There he goes again, poking around Steve, playful but making sure he knows he can still back out.
Steve thinks about it, they could keep on like this, tension lingering at the edge of each other’s boundaries, waiting for the right moment and then risk blowing it in front of everyone.
Or they could get it done now like Eddie said. Bypass all the jitters with no risk, take away the pressure of proving themselves with no stakes and just… practice.
“No, no you’re right,” Steve bolsters himself up, “We’re committing to this so we gotta practice, shape up and be ready for game time,” he ignores Eddie’s snort, “It’s not even real, it only has to look real so just— I’m just gonna make a move on you, yeah?”
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in 2024 i want to see more songs sung in t voices, more grown-out t scruff, more hairy tits and top surgery scars, more gay sex involving t dicks and pussies, more cutting each other’s hair when the hairdressers can’t get it right, more helping each other with t shots and sharing extra bottles of t gel, more passing down binders and post-surgery pillows like family heirlooms, more crackly laughs and excited voices that don’t know how loud they are now, more proudly showing off phallo scars like we show off top surgery scars, more teaching each other how to shave and tie a tie and all the other things our dads didn’t teach us, more sheer shirts over post-op chests, more skirts and short shorts on hairy legs, more moving the fuck out instead of living with transphobic parents, more breaking up with partners that wanted girlfriends not boyfriends, more pregnant dads, more twinks turned into otters and bears by t, more scars and binders on the beach, more romanticization of t dicks and meta dicks and phallo dicks, more rage and resistance against anyone who would try to rob us of our history or our ancestors, more pride in complex manhoods and queer masculinities, more getting louder every time someone tells us to shut up about the things that are important to us, more searching for transmasculinity in every piece of media and injecting it into anything that failed to consider us, more cuntboys and boygirls and transfags and butch dudes and transsexual men, more jumping headfirst into masculinizing transitions, more delighted reactions to realizing “holy shit i think i’m actually a guy”, more trans manhood and transmasculinity as force of nature and fundamental truth and fact of life that cannot under any circumstances be ignored.
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