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Steve and Eddie had actually managed to scrape themselves out of bed later that evening and put in a few hours of packing at Steve’s apartment, but this had drained them too much for anything but takeout and a shower before they fell into bed, exhausted. Over breakfast the next day, Eddie explains what he has in mind for keeping track of their rules and punishments. It’s an app designed by some kinky software designer out there somewhere with neat sections for each item - rules, punishments, rewards, ideas and so on. Each rule is tied to an existing punishment if broken or an existing reward or rewards point system if upheld. 

Steve is all for it, especially because it mandates a check-in each day for the two of them to make sure all the rules were followed. He also likes the feature it has where they can opt to have Eddie be the only one who’s allowed to edit their settings and mark tasks/rules complete. The more control he can give to Eddie, the better Steve likes it. They set everything up on both of their phones and pair their apps together as they eat breakfast before heading back to Steve’s for the final push of packing.

“I hate this even as I’m saying it,” Eddie says before tossing back the last of his protein shake. “But I think we should hold off on implementing some of these rules until you’re moved in and you don’t have to worry about anything except unpacking your stuff and working.” 

Steve makes a face. 

“I also hate it, but you’re right. I can’t be cooking every night while I’m running back and forth between places after work to clean and patch nail holes and shit.” 

“I’m gonna say until the movers actually get your stuff here this weekend and you’re sure everything is okay, we can relax our rules unless it’s like… hydration. You’re gonna need that one.” 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Steve agrees morosely. He hates it, but understands the necessity. 

“It’s just for a couple days, you slut.” Eddie nudges his leg against Steve’s under the kitchen island. “And if we’re not too worn out and have the time, we can still have sex. You’re acting like one of us is taking a month-long business trip. It’s just a few days, princess.” 

“Wait a minute,” Steve says suddenly, entirely too seriously for it to be a part of the same conversation. “The move is this weekend - it’s past the first, what do I owe you for my half of the monthly stuff?” 

Eddie looks uncomfortably down at his plate and back up at Steve. 

“I was really hoping you’d just forget about it with all the stress.” He sighs. 

“Are you kidding me? It was hard enough to get you to admit a ballpark of what you make so that I could calculate what my monthly payments were gonna be. Fuck no, you will be taking my money for at least the cost of utilities, Munson.” 

“Oh, you’re busting out the last names?” Eddie snorts. “Real mature, Harrington. And I fucking know you didn’t just try to tell me what to do.” 

Steve levels a Hard Stare at him - Eddie calls it that because it reminds him of Paddington the bear and his Hard Stare from the cinematic masterpieces Paddington and Paddington 2. Plus, Steve is about as intimidating to Eddie as Paddington (abnormal circumstances like defending Will from Jonathan Byers aside). 

“Princess,” Eddie says warningly, raising an eyebrow. He really can’t let Steve get away with ordering him around, and Steve knows that. And he knows he’ll get punished if he keeps pressing. But this isn’t something he’s willing to give up on, so perhaps it’s time to take a different tactic.

“We’re not doing this,” Steve says exasperatedly and stops the Hard Stare. “I can’t just not pay for living here, Eddie. That’s just not how things work. We’ve talked about me paying a very reasonable amount for the utilities and I don’t see why-” 

“Just forget about it for the first month while you’re still paying out the last month on your old lease,” Eddie interrupts Steve, pulling his chair closer and taking his hand.  

“I put down first and last and I canceled my utilities effective the first.” Steve shakes his head, fond but a little fed up with Eddie’s stubbornness. “So I’m not paying anything towards my old place. And besides, that’s what my savings are for. Why are you doing this?” 

“‘Cause!” Eddie says and gestures emphatically, as if that explains anything. 

“Eddie,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand and looks directly, searchingly into his eyes. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I wanna take care of you.” Eddie says softly. 

Steve is struck dumb for a moment. That’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to him, and it floods him with warmth. But it’s warmth with a burnt overtone to it, one where Steve can’t ignore the acrid feeling that he’d be doing something very wrong if he were to just take Eddie at his word. If he’s learned one thing in this life, it’s fending for himself - and this just feels like taking advantage, taking it too far. 

“That’s… that’s maybe one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me,” Steve says with feeling, squeezing Eddie’s hand once again for emphasis. “But I can’t take advantage of you like that. It feels… I don’t know, wrong for me not to pay for something. ” 

“Okay,” Eddie sighs but flicks at his ring band with his thumb, worrying it up and down. “If you really feel like you need to, what about paying for all our groceries? That plus the payment of labor from your cooking rule is like, at least half of my mortgage payment.” 

“Come on, I know it isn’t.” Steve fixes him with a look as Eddie withdraws his hand from Steve’s to sip his coffee. 

Eddie puts down his mug and bites his lip for a second, looking like he’s really debating whether or not he wants to say something. He evidently decides on yes, because he takes a deep breath and opens his mouth. 

“Can I be real honest with you?” 

Oh, shit. Okay. Steve hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, trying to temper his heartbeat via stealthy deep breathing. “I always want you to be honest.” 

Eddie nods like he doesn’t doubt it, and speaks. 

“I’m sorry if it feels like I’m pushing or overstepping sometimes, with stuff like this. I just… I grew up poor as fuck, with Wayne working long shifts at the factory on the West Side. I had to fend for myself as a kid a lot. And I still feel like I had a decent childhood, mostly ‘cause of Wayne. Everything I’ve been through is kinda similar but like, pales in comparison to what you’ve told me about what growing up was like for you. It makes me sick to think about how badly you were neglected when you needed a family- ” Eddie slaps his hand against the marble of the breakfast bar, shaking his head sharply and willing himself to continue. “You’re so used to there being literally nothing in this world between you and some kind of ruin but yourself. And that makes me so fucking angry I don’t know what the fuck to do with it. I… I want to absolutely murder your parents with my bare hands, especially your fucking coward of a father. I want to hold you and literally never let you out of my sight, fuck-” Eddie presses a shaking hand to his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut for a second. 

Steve is absolutely gobsmacked - it sounds like Eddie talks about this shit in therapy and has been holding back a lot when he listens to Steve on the rare occasions that he’ll haltingly confess that some terrible little time bomb thing has triggered him. 

“More than anything, I want you to really fucking understand that you don’t have to be afraid to take up space anymore,” Eddie rasps. “You don’t have to worry about money because what’s mine is yours. You don’t have to fend for yourself. You don’t have to be alone anymore. So when I say I want to take care of you… I mean it.” 

Steve can’t help it, he crumbles in on himself, hands pressed to his face, crying silently. Eddie pulls him forward into his arms. 

“I got you,” Eddie breathes, voice shaky as well. 

Steve finally hears it. More than hears it, he understands it. Absorbs it. Seeing things from Eddie’s point of view, seeing how fiercely he cares and how deeply he feels on Steve’s behalf, drives it home. Steve has always known it - it’s been reinforced by every brush of Eddie’s hand at the small of his back in public, every encouraging nod and bright smile, every time Eddie pulls him close when there are just no words, every consent check-in, every attentive, careful aftercare session. He’s loved. He’s wanted. He’s not alone. 

And fuck, he’s completely laid bare by that. To have someone just confess to you over breakfast that not only have they seen the deepest, ugliest parts of you, but they still want you - no, treasure you and want nothing more than to take care of you, even and especially when thinking about those ugly things? That’s some world-rocking shit right there. 

After a long moment, he picks his head up and looks up at Eddie tearfully, but smiling. 

“Yeah,” he laughs through a clotted throat. “I’ll pay for the stupid fuckin’ groceries.” 

Unfortunately, emotional breakthroughs over breakfast and the ridiculous living room quickies that follow don’t exempt people from having to pack a metric fuckton of cardboard boxes with some of their closest friends on the advent of a big move. 

Robin and Will are already waiting for Steve and Eddie when they show up with Eddie’s trunk full of boxes, bubble wrap, and tape. It shouldn’t be too bad - Eddie and Steve are going to tackle Steve’s clothes and Robin, Will, and Argyle are set to pack the very last of Steve’s kitchen and living room. 

“‘Sup, fuckers?” Robin greets them merrily. 

“Robin!” Steve gestures to Will, who’s almost her height at this point. 

“Come on, Steve. I know the fuck word.” Will deadpans. Eddie hides a snort behind an armful of boxes and they head inside. Argyle rocks up about five minutes later with his arms full of coffee. 

“All right, brochachos. I have a soy gingerbread latte for the boss man, an oat vanilla latte for the lady, a hot chocolate for the lil’ dude - excellent choice, by the way - aaaand another soy gingerbread for Steve-O. Plus a caramel macchiato for yours truly.” 

“Argyle, you didn’t have to do that,” Steve pulls him into a side hug as he accepts the coffee. Argyle looks delighted and grins bashfully.

“Aw, it was Eddie’s treat, but yeah, my idea, man.” 

“That’s so sweet of you,” Steve pats his shoulder. “Robin, Will, this is Argyle. Eddie’s right hand man at the record shop and best friend of like… shit, their whole lives.” 

“Yeah, man. Since what, first grade? CPS sucks ass but I gotta thank it for bringing us two together.” Argyle claps Eddie on the shoulder and Eddie grins fondly at him. 

“This motherfucker right here has saved my ass more times than I can count.” 

“Yeah, from trouble I got him into,” Argyle cracks. 

“Selective editing,” Eddie shrugs. “I tried.” 

“Good to meet you,” Robin steps forward and shakes Argyle’s hand. “I’m Robin, Steve’s best friend of like, what, three years?” 

“Feels like longer,” Steve sighs long-sufferingly and then breaks down into laughter. “I’m kidding. In a good way.” 

“Oh! You’re the chick that works at the library and at Roscoe’s right?” Argyle’s face lights up in recognition. “And you’re dating the redhead, the mom-” 

“Yep!” Eddie cuts him off and laughs nervously. “And this is Will, he’s fourteen, remember?” 

“Oh, shit, man. Too young for the lifestyle. Sorry, dude.” Argyle winces at Eddie. 

“...I’m not going to ask. I have a feeling I really don’t want to know.” Will lowers his hot chocolate. 

“Good to meet you though, I hear you have dope music taste,” Argyle fist-bumps Will, who looks mollified, close call forgotten. 

“Yeah, Eddie told me we like some of the same bands,” Will starts in and the two of them chatter as they start wrapping up some of Steve’s glassware. 

“Am I… old? I don’t know who any of these fucking bands are.” Robin says quietly to Steve as they head into his bedroom to deal with his clothes. 

“Shockingly enough, I do know some of them- but only because of Will’s mixtape for me.” 

“Okay, nevermind. I officially rescind asking if I’m old because you’ve just proven yourself to be ancient by calling it a mixtape. We didn’t even have fucking mixtapes when we were in high school, Steve. We burned CDs.” 

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” Steve shrugs. 

Robin shakes her head, takes a long sip from her latte, and then dives in, pulling stuff out of Steve’s closet and letting him direct her as to whether he wants to keep them or donate them to the local thrift store. Eddie comes in after a few moments of discussing obscure something-core with Will and Argyle, and he joins Robin in methodically emptying the closet. Before their talk about Steve’s anxiety and insecurities, he would have absolutely dreaded this. Now, he feels like he can relax into the process and even enjoy his latte. Two of the most important people in his life are carefully walking him through this and encouraging him to keep things that they want to see him in and to let go of things that don’t serve him anymore. 

All of the tearful, private moments spent scrubbing his face raw in frustration in front of the mirror are a little farther away today. Eddie and Robin joke with Steve, laugh with him, try on some of his clothes just for the meme, and bring an ease to this task where Steve previously couldn’t even imagine anyone else participating at all. 

An hour or so into the packing session, Argyle and Will have started playing a band Steve vaguely recognizes from Will’s playlist in his living/dining area and Will quietly pads into the bedroom with something in his hands. 

“Uh, hey, Steve? Did you want to keep this?” Will holds the object out to him a little hesitantly. Steve takes it and his stomach immediately fills up with dread.  

“Where did you find this,” he asks slowly. 

“In the box of extension cords and batteries in the shelf of your TV stand.” Will replies. 

Steve can barely look at it directly - it’s a child’s toy version of a 1960s Mustang. All of a sudden, it’s like he’s five years old again and asking his nanny why he couldn’t have the teddy bear he knew his aunt bought him for Christmas. When her answer didn’t satisfy him, he’d throw the car at the wall in frustration. It’s still scuffed and chipped from all the times Steve had thrown the loathsome thing out of his hands when people kept putting it back into his grasp. 

He bites back the urge to do just that - wind up and throw it against the wall so hard it shatters. But then two things occur to him, like a one-two punch. 

The first is that he hasn’t seen this stupid fucking car since he was eighteen and spent the last night he’d ever spend in his childhood bedroom, the night before his high school graduation. 

And the second is that there’s a note taped to the bottom. 

Steve barely feels Eddie’s hand on his shoulder as he rips the note off the bottom and opens it up with shaking fingers. 

Steven, 

I’ve spoken with Nancy and I would ask that you please give me a call at your earliest convenience. 

-Mother 

Her sign-off is followed by a phone number. 

Steve drops the car and the note at once, already in motion, shrugging Eddie’s hand off him and walking purposefully, quickly into his apartment bathroom and locking the door behind him. He sits down hard on the tile, back against the bathtub, fingertips tingling and eyes burning, his breathing shaky and uneven. 

It’s almost too much to even wrap his head around. Not only did his mother reach out to Nancy, but Nancy never told him. If Will found that where he said he did, in a box of extension cords and batteries that Steve frankly hadn’t even known was in his console cabinet, then that means that Nancy had been keeping that stupid thing for fuck knows how long and had snuck it into one of the boxes he’d packed to move out of her apartment. 

She knew full well that Steve was estranged from his family. It’s one of the first deep conversations they’d ever had. She was telling him about her family cheerily at some Italian restaurant and had asked after his own, only to be deeply shocked to hear he had none to speak of. 

And really, that had been the crux of it, hadn’t it? Steve had been a handsome, polite, medium-smart kicked puppy with big dreams of higher education and a sob story for her to adopt and make him her project. To mold him to her liking. But it had chafed at the edges. It wasn’t as neat as she’d liked it. Steve was, after all, his own person, and to make ends meet, he worked with some rough types in kitchens and came home smelling of cigarette smoke sometimes. It was things like this - opposite schedules, Steve’s insistence at prioritizing studying over accompanying her to social obligations, the takeout from work he’d wolf down at midnight before having to wake up for an 8 AM class the next day that she claimed would stink up the apartment. 

That, and for someone who wanted a work in progress, she certainly didn’t seem to know how or want to deal with Steve’s emotional baggage at all after the first few times it surprised them both by coming up in a minor disagreement or when Steve was triggered. Steve grew to realize that she grew up in one of the most insidious situations - the type of WASP family that appears to genuinely care about each other, even upon closer inspection, but when you pull at one or two specific threads, the whole thing starts to fray. The insidious part is that no one in the family will acknowledge the fraying. They lock their smiles in and pat people’s arms patronizingly and redirect them, insisting things are fine. Forget Steve’s baggage, Nancy hadn’t even known how to handle her own. 

This is different, though. This goes beyond carelessness and ignorance, straight into betrayal. His fucking mother had spoken to Nancy somehow and she had been too busy forcing Steve out the door to even tell him. Not that he would have wanted to know. It burns, actually, fucking caustically, to be so starkly faced with how little Nancy actually knew him. If she had listened to him or cared about him at all, she would never have allowed his mother to even get as far as giving her something to pass on to him. Maybe it was her misguided bullshit about family. Maybe it was her distraction from the whirlwind romance she was having on the side with Jonathan fucking Byers. Maybe it was pure spite for Steve not being what she wanted him to be. 

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is tight and urgent outside the bathroom door. Steve’s hands are now ice cold and shaking. His head is swimming from all this, he can’t fucking parse anything beyond the spikes of panic and hatred fighting for the real estate at the forefront of his brain. 

“Steve,” he hears Robin’s voice this time, soft and plaintive. “Please let us in.” 

He knows he’s about to fall headlong into a full-on panic attack, just like the one he had on graduation day curled up in the backseat of his Beemer with nowhere to go. And the one he had on Robin’s couch the day Nancy dumped him. And the one he’d almost had in Eddie’s car in the Chinese restaurant parking lot from that Instagram post. He puts his head between his knees as he cries uncontrollably, breathing ragged, and then a memory manages to slip itself into his head, swimming against the overwhelming current of fear. 

It’s Eddie’s voice from this morning, plaintive and emphatic, saying you don’t have to be alone.   

Before he can even bring himself to think about how impossible moving seems, he lurches forward, crawls on his hands and knees, and unlocks the bathroom door. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, concerned and soothing all at once, dropping to his knees as Steve sits back against the bathtub and taking Steve’s shaking hands in his. Robin follows him into the bathroom and immediately sits down on the floor right next to Steve, back against the bathtub too, her right arm and leg gently pressed against his left side. 

“H-hey,” Steve chokes out. 

“You’re okay,” Robin wraps an arm around his shoulders. Steve always underestimates her wiry strength - she feels solid against him and her grip is strong. 

“Stevie,” Eddie squeezes both his hands gently and then starts repeatedly rubbing his thumbs across the backs of them. “Breathe in.” The three of them take a long breath in; Steve’s is stuttered and shaky, but sustained. 

“Breathe out,” Robin finishes, and they exhale in a long, measured rush of air. “Again, breathe in for me?” They all follow her instructions through several more breaths until Steve finally feels his heart rate drop into its normal range. 

“Better,” Steve sighs on the last exhale. “Fuck, I almost lost my shit there.” 

“But you didn’t,” Eddie smiles at him, a dizzying combination of pride and encouragement legible on his handsome face. 

“Do you feel better now, babe?” Robin asks him, cocking her head. “Are you sick or cold or anything?” 

“A little cold,” Steve admits. “But I think… I think I’m okay. I don’t really want to move just yet.” 

“That’s okay, honey. You don’t have to.” Eddie squeezes his hands. “I’m gonna warm your hands up and Will’s gonna get you some water.” He says the last part loudly, and Will starts where he stands behind Eddie, peering into the bathroom doorway.

“Yeah. Uh. Yep.” He says, and heads to Steve’s kitchen. He returns less than a minute later with a glass of ice water and Steve gratefully accepts it. 

“Thanks, Will. Sorry about this.” 

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Will replies, to Steve’s puzzlement. 

“Come again?” Steve says and takes a good sized sip of water. Maybe the near miss has left his mind a little frazzled. 

“I don’t think it’s fair that you get to tell me I’m not allowed to apologize for being upset and then you turn around and apologize to me when you’re upset.” 

Robin’s mouth drops open and Eddie laughs out loud. Steve shakes his head and chuckles. 

“You know what, you’re right. I take it back. When did you get so smart, dude?” 

“I learned from the best,” Will says, a fond smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

Steve almost tears up again just from that. 

“Can I maybe ask a tough question?” Robin asks gently. Everyone looks to Steve. 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says warily. His heart rate picks up a little, so he pulls Eddie’s hand to his chest and holds it there against his sternum. 

“Do you want one of us to get rid of it?” 

“Yeah,” Steve says immediately. “And the note, please.” 

“You don’t want to burn it or toss it off a tall building or something?” Eddie asks. 

“No,” Steve shakes his head. “I don’t ever want to see it again. I don’t ever want to think about it again. I just want to be done with it.” 

“Totally fair,” Robin nods. 

“Can I ask a tough question?” Will sits down on the closed toilet seat. 

“Sure, bud.” Steve replies, keeping Eddie’s hand clutched tightly to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Um,” Steve hedges. “I mean, my first instinct is to say no, and not just ‘cause I tend to be kinda bad at sharing how I’m feeling until it boils over. I know you’re best friends with Mike Wheeler and I really don’t want to influence you against Nancy any more than I feel like I probably already have.” 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, low in his chest. It’s not quite a warning, more of a pitying thing. 

“Dude,” Will laugh-scoffs. “Be fucking for real.” 

Steve opens his mouth to scold him for language, but decides mid-breath to just give up. If anyone deserves to say the fuck word, it’s Will Byers. 

“Nancy has personally colored my opinion of her with her own two hands. She didn’t need you to do it for her. Not that you ever have, even though I think you’re more than entitled.” 

“This one sucks, though. This is one of those things that comes off bad even when I literally just state the facts and don’t bring my feelings into it. I don’t want to put that on you.” Steve sighs and lets go of Eddie’s hand. Eddie moves to sit on his other side and Steve is grateful for it, bracketed by two of his favorite people in the world. 

“What was it you said to Jonathan? That I can make my own decisions?” 

“Oh, he’s good,” Eddie stage-whispers to Steve. Robin snorts. 

“Fair enough,” Steve nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, Will, but I haven’t spoken to my family since the day I graduated high school. We parted on real bad terms and I don’t really want to get into it. That, uh, car… was mine as a kid. And I hated it even then. The last time I saw that stupid thing was that day. Graduation day.” 

Eddie’s hand finds its way into Steve’s, squeezing encouragingly. 

“It was in that box because Nancy put it there. With a note to me from my mother attached to it. Which means that my mother talked to Nancy while we were living together and asked her to give that to me and she didn’t. Nancy put it in that box when I moved out and I never looked in there. Until, uh, today.” 

Will stares at him for a minute, mind working. 

“Steve, I’m so sorry. That’s fucked.” Again with the fuck word. Oh god, how is he going to explain himself to Joyce if Will starts cursing like this at home? “Wait,” Will gasps. “Wait, how long did Nancy have that without telling you about it? And why was she even talking to your mom in the first place?” 

“This is why,” Steve says slowly, face heating up with guilt. “I didn’t necessarily think it was a good idea to tell you.” 

“Okay, no, because that’s crap, Steve.” Robin interjects. “Sometimes the truth makes someone look like a bad person because they’re a bad person.” 

And really, what the fuck is Steve supposed to say to that? It’s true. Just a description of Nancy’s actions, stripped of any emotions, is enough to paint an unsavory picture. 

“No wonder you freaked out,” Will says into the silence. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve takes a sip of water and manages a small smile. “I got you guys. And I’m feeling better, really.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, rubbing a hand up and down Steve’s arm. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “Plus, we still have more packing to do. Will, if you would do me the honor of stuffing that stupid thing at the bottom of a trash bag somewhere, I’d really appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, I got you,” Will springs to his feet and sets to his task. 

Robin and Eddie stand up and haul Steve up with them. He’s relieved to find his legs relatively stable. 

“You okay to keep going, honey?” Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him close, his fingers tangling in the back of Steve’s day collar chain at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah,” Steve sighs contentedly at the feeling of being held. “You both really calmed me down. Thank you so much.” 

“Anytime, dingus.” Robin ruffles the back of his hair and Eddie lets him go, the three of them turning back to Steve’s closet. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Eddie says, hand on his hips, from inside Steve’s empty closet. His hair is tied up in a messy bun and he’s stripped down from his hoodie to his bleach-stained Motionless in White tee. Steve is doing his best to focus on their checklist and not how goddamn fine Eddie looks. 

“We’re done?” Robin asks excitedly. 

“Oh, nice,” Will leans against the doorframe. 

“Clothes, upper kitchen cabinets, and that console cabinet under the TV,” Steve reads off the checklist. “I’ve given away most of my big shit - the only thing that’s left is for the movers to come and for me to clean this place once they take the last of my furniture.”

“I’ll help,” Robin nudges him but rolls her eyes like she can’t even believe she’s offering. 

“Really?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah, dipshit. Just call me when you’re on your way back over to clean it. I’m off Sunday anyway.” 

“You know I keep it clean, it probably just needs a good vacuum and maybe a few scuffs and holes dealt with.” Steve bumps her shoulder and she bumps him back. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re buying the tacos at you and Eddie’s after.” 

“Deal.” 

“Dudes?” Argyle says from… out in the hall, apparently? 

“Yeeeees?” Eddie answers. 

“Did you know this was out here?” 

Everyone immediately comes out into the hall - Steve pats his pocket to make sure he still has his apartment key, just in case. 

“My fire escape door? Yeah, man. I’ve known about that.” Steve says as Argyle gestures to a door at the end of Steve’s hallway, about five feet from his doorway. 

“Nah, man.” Argyle throws it open and there’s a small, winding staircase leading upwards. “You’re on the top floor - this goes to the roof.” 

“No fucking shit,” Steve replies, astonished. “This whole time?” 

“Would anyone care to investigate this rooftop?” Argyle grins and pulls a joint out of his pocket. 

“Oh, dude,” Steve says, affronted, and moves to cover Will’s eyes, who deftly sidesteps him and gives him a bitch, really look. 

“I know what a weed is, mom,” Will fully rolls his eyes like a petulant teenager, a delightful departure from his usual vaguely anxious expression. “And my actual mom will be here to pick me up in like, ten minutes. I don’t care if you guys smoke but I’ll pass.” 

“That’s right you’ll pass,” Steve says indignantly. “You were never included in this to begin with! Oh my god, I’m going to hell. Will, please don’t ever do drugs.” 

“Weed is legal in Illinois, mother,” Will sasses him back. “And I think it smells like shit, so yes, at the very least, I’ll pass ‘til I’m twenty-one.” 

“Edibles?” Eddie suggests, and Steve smacks his arm, horrified. Thankfully, Will’s phone goes off and he checks it. 

“That’s mom. She’s out front and she says hi and let her know if she can lend you Jim for the move.” 

“Tell her thanks but we got it. And thank you for coming today, Will. Seriously.” Steve steps forward and gestures with his arms spread a little, nonverbally asking if Will wants a hug. Will closes the distance and hugs him briefly. 

“What are little brothers for?” he says as he steps back and descends the stairs to his mom’s car. “Bye, guys! Good to meet you, Argyle!” 

“Later, little man!” Argyle calls back. “Soooo… anyone down?” he says as soon as the apartment building door closes behind Will. 

An hour later, Robin and Argyle are maybe also best friends now, there’s a Grubhub order for Wolfy’s hot dogs in the works, and they’ve made it through two of the joints Argyle keeps in his seemingly bottomless pockets. 

Three hours later and the hot dogs are gone, Robin and Argyle are off to smoke a third joint at her place while watching RuPaul’s Drag Race, and Steve and Eddie are pulling into their driveway. Steve is still a little giggly from the weed - it always makes him kind of lightheaded and sweet, a little like subspace, now that he thinks of it. Eddie hands him a few things from the haul they’d brought over from Steve’s place and takes a few boxes stacked up himself, but it takes three trips before they’ve gotten everything inside. 

“Are we done?” Eddie asks Steve as they take off their coats. “I think we’re finally done.” 

“Yup,” Steve pops the P. 

“You tired, baby?” Eddie asks as they bring the boxes up to the bedroom - they’re mostly full of Steve’s clothes and a few scented candles, as well as a giant bottle of his contact solution and a few other essentials. 

“Maybe a little,” Steve replies as he shoves the boxes into the closet to be dealt with later. “You?” 

“Eh,” Eddie waves his hand dismissively. His hair is still up in its cute bun and Steve suddenly can’t resist. He steps closer to him, reaches up and squishes the bun, giggling. 

“Excuse the fuck out of me,” Eddie cries indignantly and tickles Steve’s stomach in retaliation, causing him to shriek and pull back. “I know you didn’t just make fun of my hair!” 

“N-no, daddy!” Steve laughs, Eddie’s fingertips still picking at him, trying to find a way to tickle him as he deflects them. “I like it! I think it’s really hot, I just. It’s cute, too!” 

“You’re cute, too,” Eddie catches Steve in his arms and kisses him, both of them sinking down onto the bed. Steve loves kissing Eddie normally, the way he bites at his lower lip and won’t let go, the way their tongues just fit together, but he finds he loves kissing Eddie when he’s high. It feels like it lasts forever, like they could breathe each other in for the entire night and it still wouldn’t be enough for him. 

“Can I tell you something, honey?” Eddie pulls back and smiles down at Steve. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve is alarmed at first, missing Eddie’s tongue in his mouth. 

“No, no, baby. It’s not a bad thing at all. Come here,” Eddie rolls off of him and pulls him close against his side. “I’m really proud of you, Stevie.” 

“For what?” Steve asks, puzzled, and not just from the high. 

“You had a rough moment earlier and you did so good.” Eddie kisses his forehead. “I’m so fucking proud of you for being able to calm down like that. And even if you’d had a full panic attack, I still would’ve been proud of you just for letting me and Robin into the bathroom.” 

Steve squirms, uncomfortable in the face of such direct praise about a sensitive topic, but he remembers his rule that he’s required to accept compliments at face value as he blushes. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Steve mutters, self-conscious. 

“Look at that, you’re still being so good, remembering your rule,” Eddie croons and rolls back on top of Steve, kissing down his neck and rucking his shirt up to bite at his belly. Steve giggles and gasps, but doesn’t put up a fight. “And good girls deserve treats…” Eddie says, and pulls Steve’s jeans halfway down his thighs abruptly, taking his underwear with them. “Have you ever had an orgasm after getting high before, princess?” 

“Oh!” Steve gasps as Eddie wraps his hand around him. “N-no, daddy.” 

“Ooh, you’re in luck today, aren’t you?” Eddie grins mischievously and gets to work. 

The movers are punishingly early, but Steve and Eddie are ready for them. The men make quick work of Steve’s place, loading their one medium-sized truck in about an hour. Eddie goes with them over to his place to direct them on where to put everything, and Steve stays behind and texts Robin to come over and help him do a final clean of the apartment. 

They finish faster than Steve would have thought - Robin, as it turns out, is a genius with spackle. He leaves the keys under the welcome mat and shoots an email to his leasing office informing them. 

“This is it, huh?” Robin slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders as they leave the apartment building, backpacks full of cleaning supplies. 

“Yeah,” Steve looks back at his building - his old building, now - and feels… happy. His apartment had served him well for as long as he’d needed it, but he won’t miss the way the steam radiators dried out his hands and the way it had been his place, but it hadn’t been home.

Throughout his life, Steve has had a tenuous relationship with the concept of home, having known all different flavors of unhappy home and loneliness refracted through the light of his car windows, motels, and Nancy’s silent disapproval. His place had been… close. It had been a refuge for him when he actually needed to be alone, somewhere to decompress after work, and a place to sleep without worrying about it. 

But all that melts away next to Eddie’s two-headed calf keychain in his right pocket, warm from his body heat. After a lifetime of Steve not understanding what makes a house a home, jealous and unmoored, Eddie makes everything make sense. He’s what makes that beautiful townhouse welcoming and comforting. Hell, he could make a camper van a fucking home to Steve. He’s Steve’s home. 

Steve’s therapist would be proud of him - that’s a big fucking deal for him. Both a big deal to admit to himself, but also a big deal that he’s put that much trust in Eddie. And it’s funny, it doesn’t feel like a big deal. It feels as easy as breathing. As easy as leaving this apartment building behind, perfectly fine with the idea of never seeing it again. 

“I’m good.” Steve nods. “Let’s go get your tacos; I didn’t forget.” 

“Fuck yes,” Robin enthuses, and they begin their walk to the train. 

Over the next few days, when Eddie’s at Corroded Coffin and Steve is home alone, he unpacks feverishly. It’s like he can see the spaces between Eddie’s tchotchkes and in his organizational system that, as eye-roll inducing as it sounds, were incomplete without him. His 1930s map of the CTA rail lines is absolutely perfect in Eddie’s movie room - it matches the exact vibe of the noir posters that Eddie had framed and hung up on all the walls. His vintage decanter from Robin looks nice as fuck on Eddie’s bar cart in the living room. Even his wisdom teeth, saved in a glass jar from a few years ago, fit beautifully into Eddie’s curiosity cabinet. He’ll never forget the look on Eddie’s face when he pulled them out and examined them before asking with absolute reverence:

“Are these… yours, Stevie?” 

Steve would blush and stammer before admitting it, but it’s really kind of along the same lines as all the ownership talk in their dynamic. It’s a donation to Eddie’s collection, a literal piece of Steve for him to own. And they both fucking love it. 

Steve, however, has never really owned that much stuff, all things considered. He feels like his things just blend into Eddie’s, with the exception of some of his linens. Eddie doesn’t seem to give a shit that they don’t match the overall dark, mausoleum vibe of the house - Steve knows the guest rooms are a good deal less ornamental and painted a much lighter grey. Steve is more than happy to use his old IKEA duvet for guest room bedclothes, he doesn’t give a shit about them compared to Eddie’s luxurious duvets and satin pillowcases. He likes those far better. 

The one thing that Steve does own a lot of is books. He is a librarian, after all, and has always been a voracious reader. It was one of the best ways to pass the time in a huge, empty house as a kid and a great way to spend his daily train commute in school and while he works, even now. 

Eddie takes stock of the boxes in the living room labeled ‘books’ and offers Steve one of the nicest things he’s ever proposed. 

“You know,” Eddie says, tying his hair into a high ponytail and rubbing his hands together. Steve immediately enjoys the look, especially the curly strands that frame Eddie’s face, but wonders exactly what devious shit he’s about to say. 

“Yeah?” Steve replies warily. 

“I’ve been needing to reorganize my books for awhile.” 

Steve’s eyes widen. 

“Really? Would you- I’d… can I?” 

“Of course, my little librarian,” Eddie purrs, sliding his hands around Steve’s waist. “I’ll be your assistant and you can come up with your own organizational system.” 

“That’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me,” Steve deadpans. He’s like… eighty percent kidding. 

“Wow,” Eddie laughs. “Just gotta bust out good old Dewey Decimals and you’re hard as a rock, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Shelve me, daddy,” he says completely unenthusiastically. Eddie laughs and gives him a kiss and then a raspberry against his neck. 

Steve thinks about it for a day or so before deciding to merge their book collections alphabetically by subject. He’s a little embarrassed at first, feeling like he’s really showing his dork side to Eddie for the first time in their relationship, but his worries are quickly put to rest. Eddie is immediately receptive to his idea and listens intently while Steve describes what he’s thinking. 

As they actually execute this transition, spread out over the course of a few days, Steve finds that Eddie really loves it when he talks passionately about something; be it a book he can’t help himself but describe to him or a particularly exciting find within Eddie’s own collection. It’s such a strange and unexpectedly meaningful thing for Steve, that Eddie is so happy to listen and help. He makes Steve feel so… cherished. Steve will catch him looking at him as he talks out loud to himself about adding a book to a particular section, and the look on his face is nothing short of pure adoration. 

They make slow progress in the evenings after work, punctuated with cups of tea and sometimes abandoning their half-full shelves and book piles to make out on the living room couch. 

Until the evening Eddie makes a discovery. 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, a strange tone to his voice. “What the absolute fuck is this?” 

Steve whips around - all of these boxes in the living room should be full of books, so why is Eddie holding up… oh no. Fuck no, not this. It’s a blue shirt, but it’s not just any blue shirt. Eddie’s found Steve’s box of miscellaneous shit from old jobs. It’s Steve’s uniform from when he was putting himself through grad school working at Scoops Ahoy ice cream parlor in the same neighborhood as campus. It’s a noxious polyester nightmare, a weird little sailor outfit that consists of a set of borderline inappropriately short shorts and a top that he remembers being unusually restrictive from how tight it was. 

“You know how every fucking college student loves boba tea and ice cream?” Steve says wearily. 

“What does that have to- OH. Steve, did you work at fucking Scoops Ahoy in college?” 

“Worse. Grad school.” Steve puts his head in his hands, possibly more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire fucking life. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Eddie crows. “You actually wore these?! The uniforms weren’t just for the girls? Oh my god.” He laughs deliriously. 

“Please,” Steve groans. “Just let me fucking die, you don’t have to rub it in.” 

“Rub it in?! Stevie, oh my god, it’s not even like that. When those stores were popping up all over the city when they were really popular, Argyle and I would stop in every one we saw trying to figure out if they made their male employees wear these things. I’d see all the girls that worked there dressed like that and I thought there’s no fucking way they’d have a guy version. And we never found a store that actually had a dude working there. But you, oh my god, you went to DePaul, didn’t you?” 

“Y…eah…” Steve says slowly. 

“I knew I should have checked Lincoln Park!” Eddie exclaims in frustration. 

“No fucking way,” Steve takes his head out of his hands, where he thought it would perhaps have to reside for the rest of his life, as it all becomes clear. “This is a thing for you, isn’t it?” 

The smug expression practically falls off Eddie’s face instantaneously. 

“I… what?” 

“You have a thing for uniforms.” 

“Nah,” Eddie says, a little too flat and a little too quickly. He drops the shirt as if it scalded him. 

“I could wear it for you sometime, daddy. If you want,” Steve says in his best sultry voice, just to see what it’ll do to Eddie. He’s instantly rewarded by Eddie’s cheeks turning a little pink and his mouth dropping open. Steve crawls across the rug to where Eddie’s sitting in front of the open box and puts a hand onto his thigh, getting right up into his personal space. “I could keep the Scoops store open extra late for you, daddy.” 

Eddie’s pupils are blown and his cheeks are flushed the most Steve’s ever seen them. He closes his mouth, jaw working, and Steve relishes the rare feeling of rendering Eddie speechless and having the upper hand. 

“I… if you want?” Eddie croaks. 

“Admit it’s a fantasy for you and I’ll do it,” Steve counters, smirking. Immediately, Eddie’s hand snaps up and slaps him sharply across the face. There goes the upper hand. 

“That sounds an awful lot like you’re telling me what to do, princess.” 

“Not telling you what to do, just telling you my price.” Steve pants, holding his cheek where Eddie’s handprint is turning pink on his skin. Eddie reaches for him again, grabbing him by the throat and hauling him into his lap for a filthy kiss. 

“You’re undercharging,” Eddie growls, and sinks his teeth into Steve’s bottom lip. 

“So it is a fantasy for you,” Steve pulls back, pleased with himself. 

“A pretty boy in that skimpy little uniform alone at night in an ice cream parlor, licking vanilla off those little tester spoons and stealing mouthfuls of whipped cream? Yeah, honey. I’d say so.” 

“Good to know,” Steve says smugly and climbs off Eddie’s lap, returning to his unpacking. 

It becomes a little bit of a game over the next day or two - Steve lays the Scoops uniform out on the bed when he goes to take a shower, but then comes out of the bathroom wearing something else, much to the disappointment of Eddie, who saw the uniform and is spread out across the bed in an artfully arranged sexy pose. 

“I gotta unpack some work clothes, wanna help?” Steve says brightly, ignoring the uniform. 

Eddie sighs and scrapes himself out of bed. 

The next day, Eddie finds the uniform in the kitchen after Steve has already left for work at the library. 

That evening is a whole mess of Steve and Robin bringing home dinner and then all three of them figuring out exactly where to place Steve’s old man recliner in the living room. By the time Robin leaves, Eddie has all but forgotten about the uniform and they both collapse into bed, exhausted. 

It’s the next day when Steve finally makes his move. Eddie gets home from work and the house is… quiet. Usually Steve is puttering around somewhere, unpacking a box or rearranging something, but today, the only thing that alerts Eddie to the fact that he’s home is the kitchen light spilling out into the hallway. They haven’t formally instituted their lifestyle rules yet as they’re still a little bit in the middle of the tornado of takeout and unpacking, so what is Steve doing in there so quietly? Certainly not merging their mug collections. 

Eddie enters the kitchen and Steve turns around from where he’s wiping down the countertop. 

"Ahoy, there! Would you like to set sail on an ocean of flavor today?"

Eddie stops dead in his tracks and takes it all in - the tubs of store-bought ice cream on the kitchen island, arranged in a row. A little pile of plastic tester spoons. A stack of cardboard cups. Eddie’s iPad, propped up in its standing case like it’s a cash wrap. 

And of course, Steve in the uniform. He’s smiling, but it’s a Customer Service Smile, covering up the way he’s absolutely fucking dying laughing on the inside. Eddie looks positively struck dumb, rooted to the spot. Steve had tried on the uniform earlier and was a little disappointed to find that he’d filled out a little since he worked for Scoops. But as he looked at himself in the full-length bedroom mirror, he found he actually quite liked the changes - he’d been practically malnourished from being a broke student when he worked there, and now his body makes the uniform look borderline obscene instead of just uncomfortable across the shoulders. 

The stupid little shorts are even shorter on Steve now than they had been back then, likely due to his weight gain. They hug his ass and thighs, riding high like a pair of hot pants. He’d left off the apron because he wants Eddie to see the shorts in their full glory from the front as well as the back. The shirt is tight. Like, gay bar on Halloween tight. Normally, he tries not to spend too long in front of the mirror so that he doesn’t start to second guess himself, but he’d spent a good two or three minutes just turning around slowly at all different angles in the uniform, admiring the almost pornographic fit of it. 

By the looks of it, Eddie is stopped speechless by the same thing. He shakes his head once, then twice.

“Sir? What can I get for you?” Steve asks, looking faux-innocently at Eddie. He can see the thoughts as they cross Eddie’s face, can tell he’s wondering if they’re really doing this. 

“Uh,” Eddie says, trying to gain back some composure. He clears his throat. “Can I try a sample of your favorite flavor?” 

“Of course,” Steve smiles and motions for Eddie to come closer and stand on the other side of the breakfast bar, where he’s removed the chairs so they can fully pretend it’s a shop counter. Steve takes one of the little tester spoons and scoops Eddie a little dollop from the French vanilla container. He takes one for himself and deliberately makes it a melty spoonful, licking at it as he tastes it. Some of the white ice cream melts and drips down his fingers. 

“Real vanilla bean,” Steve makes eye contact and slowly licks his fingers, sucking them into his mouth and cleaning the remains of the french vanilla from them. Eddie’s eyes darken as he swallows his own sample. 

“Looks good to me,” Eddie says, and tosses the spoon into the garbage. “I’ll take a french vanilla cone and your phone number, please.” 

Steve smiles, bemused. He whips his scoop out from his uniform pocket and twirls it around, balancing it on his hand and whipping it through his fingers with the practiced ease of many repetitions of the trick. 

“I can do the cone, but I don’t date customers.” 

“Why not?” Eddie leans across the counter. “You scared?” 

“Nah,” Steve shakes his head and takes a perfect scoop from the french vanilla carton. He produces a cone from behind the line of cartons and expertly presses the scoop into it, then hands it to Eddie.

“You got a boyfriend?” Eddie asks, pulling out his wallet. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” Steve accepts his card and pretends to swipe it along the edge of Eddie’s iPad. 

“Ohh,” Eddie nods as he takes his card back and pops it back into his wallet. “I think I get it.” 

“What exactly do you think you get?” 

“Nobody’s ever really fucked you right, have they?” Eddie says, licking his cone obscenely, catching a droplet as it rolls down the side of it. He winks at Steve. Steve’s eyes follow his tongue and his cheeks flush a little. 

“I do fine,” Steve snaps back into character, pouting indignantly with his arms crossed across his chest, flexing a little so that the shirt looks even more ridiculously tight over his shoulders and biceps. 

“Oh, I didn’t say you don’t,” Eddie says, eyes cataloguing Steve’s movements before he licks the cone again, dragging the flat of his tongue across it as he swirls the cone around. 

“Then what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Meant exactly what I said, honey. Clearly no one’s ever fucked you right, even though you might do fine.” 

“I- wh-“ Steve splutters. He’d thought he’d have the upper hand, being the one wearing the uniform, but Eddie’s really bringing his A-game. “And you think you would?” He tries to recover and sound unimpressed. “You think you could satisfy me?” Steve leans back against the kitchen counter behind him, allowing the too-tight shirt to ride up a little, revealing his happy trail. 

“You wanna find out, sailor?” Eddie tosses the remainder of his cone into the garbage and fixes Steve with a predatory smile. 

“I… uh…” Steve falters on purpose, preparing to reveal the ace up his sleeve. “I don’t know…” he hedges, doing his best to look nervous. Eddie picks up on his change in tone and starts to make his way around the island toward Steve, who backs up. 

“I think I was more right than I realized,” Eddie says confidently. “You’ve been wasting your time on your knees for college boys and with your fingers inside sorority girls. You need someone who’s gonna treat you right. Who’s gonna show you what it’s really like.” 

Steve says nothing as he backs up against the other counter, watching with intentionally wide eyes as Eddie approaches him slowly, still talking. 

“You look like a fucking porn star in that little uniform, honey.” Eddie purrs. “Your ass looks unreal and that shirt is so tight, how do they let you on the floor looking like that? You look like a wet dream.” 

Steve looks up at Eddie through the sweep of his lashes as he gets closer, closer, until he tips his chin up very gently with one hand. Steve manufactures a slight shiver and he parts his lips faux-involuntarily. He’s playing the ingenue with everything he’s got, the trembling, overcome, inexperienced fawn. 

“Are… are you gonna kiss me?” Steve asks plaintively, voice breathy. He’s pleased by how much it sounds like he’s aching for it. 

“I might,” Eddie smirks down at him. “If you ask me real nice, baby.” 

“I… I don’t understand,” Steve feigns confusion. He knows Eddie wants him to beg, but he’s committed to the bit. 

Eddie leans forward and Steve closes his eyes, expecting their lips to touch, but instead, he feels Eddie’s mouth ghost against his ear as he whispers. 

“Beg for it.” 

“Please?” Steve flutters his eyes open widely, doing his best to convey an open, naive want. “Please, I want to kiss you so badly… I need it… please!” Steve’s voice breaks on the last please as Eddie revels in his words. 

“Oh, sweetheart. How could I resist?” Eddie’s voice is low and husky and he leans forward, closing the distance between their lips with a fucking spectacularly romantic kiss. It starts out close-lipped and sweet, deepening when Steve lets himself gasp at how good it feels, Eddie flicking his tongue into Steve’s mouth and pulling him against him with his arms around Steve’s waist. 

“Ohh,” Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth and then starts backwards, stepping away. “Fuck, we shouldn’t.” 

“Baby,” Eddie reaches for him again and Steve resists a little at first, but gives in to Eddie pulling him in. Eddie kisses at his neck, only pulling back to say “Don’t worry about that. Let me fuck you right, you beautiful boy.” He sinks his teeth into Steve’s neck and Steve completely gives in to his instinctive reactions, letting himself gasp sharply and shamelessly roll his hips against Eddie’s, almost fully hard. 

“B-but anyone could walk in,” Steve pants, clutching at Eddie’s shoulders wantonly. 

“Let’s put up the closed sign,” Eddie says against Steve’s skin, making him shiver before he sinks his teeth into Steve’s throat again. 

“Oh, oh, it hurts!” Steve cries out, fingers scrabbling against Eddie’s back. 

“Do you like that, honey?” Eddie kisses his way back up Steve’s neck and jaw and locks their lips together again. 

“Y-yeah,” Steve moans against Eddie’s lips. “I love it, but, uh,” he pulls back from Eddie again, really playing up the nervous hesitance. “I…” he trails off, biting his bottom lip and looking at Eddie anxiously. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay,” Eddie coos, cupping Steve’s cheek in his hand. “I’m going to make it so good for you. I’m gonna make your gorgeous body feel things you’ve never imagined in your wildest dreams.” Eddie pulls Steve back in and presses a hand to Steve’s cock where it’s tenting his stupid little shorts, applying just enough pressure to make Steve want to push against it, so he does. He’s pretending he can’t help it, after all. 

“Unnh,” Steve lets out a breathy sound. “I don’t even know you, what do I call you?” He asks softly as his arms come up around Eddie’s neck to rest on his shoulders. Eddie smiles one of those breathtakingly wicked smiles that genuinely make Steve weak at the knees even now. 

“You can call me daddy, baby,” Eddie’s voice is low and hot and dark and he surges forward, kissing Steve like he can’t hold back anymore, shoving his legs apart to get his thigh in between them for Steve to rut against like the desperate creature he is. 

Pinned against the marble countertop and practically bursting out of his slutty little uniform, Steve gets it. He gets the fantasy, the faux-danger of the thought that anyone could walk into the “ice cream parlor” and see Eddie ruining him. He likes the idea of faking being on display, unable to resist Eddie’s sadistic whims, but it’s comforting that this little thrill of exhibitionism isn’t real. That it’s only Steve and Eddie in their house, pretending, and that shame and embarrassment coiling hot in Steve’s gut at the idea of being publicly debased feels so real but has no actual consequences. It’s perfect and maddening and it makes Steve whine as Eddie bites his lip hard. 

“So pretty,” Eddie murmurs as he slides his hands up Steve’s shirt, pulling it up over his stomach, chest, and Steve helps him strip it off entirely. “You’re gorgeous,” Eddie feels around on the counter behind him and finds what he’s looking for - a can of whipped cream that Steve had been planning on using at the perfect opportunity to drive Eddie insane. He shakes it hard a few times and to Steve’s surprise, paints a line down the middle of his chest before - 

“Oh, fuck, daddy!” Steve gasps as Eddie touches the cold nozzle of the can to his nipple, coating it in a dollop of whipped cream. He gives the other one the same treatment and then bends down, discarding the can. Eddie’s hot mouth plus the cold whipped cream and the slick swirl of his tongue against Steve’s sensitive nipple is mind-meltingly good. 

“You taste so sweet, baby boy,” Eddie pulls back and licks his lips lasciviously before sucking Steve’s other nipple into his mouth and using just a little bit of teeth this time. Steve is shaking against him, mouth open and breathing hard, gasping these little airy moans as Eddie licks the last stripe of whipped cream from the center of his sternum almost up to the base of his neck. Then, oh god, he kisses Steve almost violently, mouth full of it, spreading the sweetness onto Steve’s tongue. Steve’s dick twitches and drools pre-cum as he grabs at Eddie’s shirt, plucking at it like he can’t bear for Eddie to be wearing it for one more second. 

“Uh-uh, baby.” Eddie pulls back and slaps him, a shocking sear of pain flooding his cheek. “I get to decide if I’m gonna take anything off. And you know what, sweet peach? I’m not really feeling like it. Now get on your knees for daddy.” 

“H-here?” Steve stutters. “Right now? Where anyone could see me?” 

“That’s right,” Eddie says, pulling Steve’s hair harshly forward so that they both step away from the counter - well, with Steve, it’s more of a stumble forward and down, so he’s on his knees in just the Scoops shorts on the kitchen mat that they stand on to do dishes. He’s oddly charmed by this; that even though Eddie’s really leaning into the roleplay, he wants to make sure Steve’s going to be comfortable kneeling. “Don’t you want to be a good boy?” 

“No,” Steve answers back quietly. Eddie slaps him hard. 

“What was that? Because I know it wasn’t you telling me no.” 

“W-wanna be your good girl,” Steve’s eyes are tearing up at the sting of the slap and he’s cradling his cheek in one hand. 

“Ohh,” Eddie laughs meanly, pushing his own hand between Steve’s hand and his hot, tingling handprint on Steve’s cheek. He wants to feel it himself. “So it’s like that, huh? Does your uniform make you feel pretty, little princess?” 

Steve is so hard that he clenches his fists where they sit on his thighs to prevent himself from wrapping a hand around his cock and just squeezing for some relief. Eddie’s feminized Steve plenty and it’s always been so embarrassingly delicious to him, but to make fun of him? Like it’s some dirty little secret that he’s just found out about Steve? Oh, it’s perfection. It feels so gut-wrenchingly shameful. 

“Yeah, daddy,” Steve whispers, letting the tears he’s been calculatingly building up since the slap started them brewing spill over onto his cheeks as he closes his eyes and turns his head away in manufactured shame. “When I first started here, they gave me a girl’s uniform. ‘Cause they didn’t have one for boys. And… I liked it. I did feel pretty.” 

“Babygirl,” Eddie coos, tipping his chin up and refusing to let him hide his shame or his tears. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, with those beautiful pink lips and those big wet eyes. Do you want to be a good girl for daddy, honey?” 

“Please,” Steve moans brokenly. 

Eddie doesn’t even take his skinny jeans off, he just unzips his fly and starts to pull his cock out, like they’re in a fucking club or a back alley. It’s filthy, and Steve loves it. His mouth is watering and he can’t wait to be told what to do next. 

“Ohh,” He gasps, really laying it on thick as Eddie pulls his cock free of the jeans and strokes it, just once, in front of Steve’s face. “Daddy, it’s so big…” 

“Yeah, princess.” Eddie says smugly.

“I don’t know if I can do it, daddy, it’s huge,” Steve looks up at him, faux-nervous, biting his lip. 

“I know, sugar, I know. I think you can take it, sweetheart. And if you give it a try and you’re good for me, I’ll show you something amazing that you’ve never felt before, okay?” Eddie pulls Steve’s hair encouragingly. 

“Yes, daddy, gonna be so good for you,” Steve promises, eyes still shiny, licking his lips. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Eddie grips the base of his cock and feeds the tip of it to Steve, still holding his hair in a tight grip. “Open up, sailor girl. Let daddy in.” 

Steve obliges, relaxing his jaw as far as it will comfortably sit open, both anchored and distracted by the hand in his hair causing his scalp to throb. He flattens his tongue against the underside of Eddie’s huge cock, pushing it upwards in pulses, trying to make his mouth feel good, wet and soft and hot and inviting. 

“Ohh, I knew you’d be good when I saw you suck that ice cream off your fingers,” Eddie hisses, starting to fuck Steve’s mouth a little. He’s not going too hard, not pushing past Steve’s tolerance limits. Steve reminds himself to breathe through his nose and let himself drool - it’ll feel better for Eddie. “Fuck, kitten, your mouth is like heaven.” 

Steve pushes his head forward as Eddie fucks into his mouth, purposefully trying to take his cock past his gag reflex and simulate first-time mistakes. He splutters and his eyes water as Eddie’s cock hits the back of his throat. 

“Ahh, baby,” Eddie moans. “Your pretty mouth feels so good around daddy’s cock.” 

Steve moans loudly, hoping he sends vibrations through Eddie’s dick with the sound. It appears to have been successful as Eddie’s hips stutter and he groans, then pulls his shirt up a little with one hand, moving it out of the way so he can really see Steve work his mouth over his cock. 

“Such a pretty girl,” Eddie fucks Steve’s mouth with a little less coordination, starting to chase that build of pleasure. “So fuckin’ good for me, so sweet when you cry and choke on it ‘cause you want it so bad.” 

Steve does it again, purposefully meeting Eddie’s thrusts by allowing him too far into his throat and gagging, making a wet choking sound. Eddie’s dick throbs in his mouth. 

“God, fuck,” Eddie pants, and pulls Steve off him by the hair. Steve strains forward, making pathetic little whiny noises, desperate to get his mouth back around Eddie’s cock, needing to feel him pulse and shoot down his throat. “Look at you,” Eddie rasps. “So fucking greedy for it when you thought it’d be too big.” 

“L-loved it, daddy,” Steve moans, struggling against Eddie’s grip, feeling his scalp tingle and the pain cascade deliciously down his spine. 

“And you were so good for me, princess. You were so good for daddy.” 

Steve makes a soft little noise at the back of his throat as he looks up at Eddie, eyes pleading, as Eddie tucks his cock back into his jeans and zips his fly. 

“Awww, don’t worry, sweetheart. I promise you can have it again. But you did such a good job for me, you were such a good girl. And good girls get rewards.” 

Eddie hauls him to his feet by his hair and hooks his fingers into the waistband of the Scoops shorts, pulling them down to reveal Steve’s final surprise - a white lace thong that his cock is straining against, barely contained. 

“No panty lines,” Steve smiles beatifically. Eddie kisses him hungrily and closes a hand around Steve’s cock, earning him a moan. 

“Oh, you fucking beautiful girl,” Eddie whispers in his ear, stroking him through the lacy fabric of the thong. “I can feel how wet you are for me, even through these. You’re soaking, sugar.” 

Eddie pulls the thong down, letting Steve’s cock free. The shorts and thong slide down Steve’s legs and onto the floor. Eddie looks down at Steve’s dripping cock and does one of the cruelest things he’s ever done - walks away. “One second, baby.” 

“Daddy?” Steve asks after him, confused and feeling extremely fucking exposed. Eddie disappears into the hallway. Steve is utterly baffled and as he waits, he starts to get a little cold and his erection flags a little. Eddie comes back just as Steve is about to put his shorts back on and come after him. “What the fuck?” 

“Hey,” Eddie says, shifting what he’s now carrying to his other arm and slapping Steve sharply, making his head snap to the side. “Where’s my good girl?” 

“Sorry, daddy,” Steve mumbles and rubs at his cheek. He finally registers what Eddie is carrying - a fluffy black towel and a bottle of lube with a red and white label. Eddie lays the towel out on the breakfast bar and sets the lube down. 

“C’mon up, little peach.” 

“What?” Steve is so confused. 

“Daddy’s gonna show you something, but you gotta work with me here.” Eddie grabs Steve under his arms and lifts, prompting Steve to push off the floor and let Eddie seat him on the towel on the counter. It’s a weird angle - a little too high for Eddie to fuck him. 

“Is… it gonna hurt?” Steve asks nervously. It’s not all fake this time, he genuinely doesn’t know what Eddie’s planning. 

“Oh, honey,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “Not at all. I’m gonna make you feel so good you see stars.” 

“Oh,” Steve breathes. 

“Lay back, angel.” Eddie commands. Steve does. The kitchen lights are bright but not directly in his eyes, and before he has a chance to get too in his head about what the fuck is happening right now, he’s rewarded by Eddie popping open the lube and using a slick hand to stroke him to full hardness again. 

“Ah, yeah, please,” Steve sighs as Eddie’s hand squeezes him a little and then pulls off. Steve whines. 

“Ready, princess? Legs up, hold onto them for me, okay?” 

“O-okay,” Steve does as he’s told, hooking an arm around each leg and pulling them to his chest. He feels… exposed. He doesn’t know what Eddie’s doing. He hears the scrape of one of the fucking island chairs against the floor and he’s completely lost. 

“Daddy’s gonna eat you out, babygirl. Wanna taste your pretty cunt,” Eddie says, pouring a healthy amount of lube across Steve’s perineum and his hole. Steve is suddenly so, so fucking glad he prepped himself earlier, cleaning himself out extra carefully to wear the thong. 

“OH my GOD!” Steve shrieks as Eddie leans his head down and drags his tongue across Steve’s hole. His mouth is so hot and wet and Steve’s skin there is so much more sensitive than he’d ever thought it could be. Eddie was right - he’s never felt anything like this before. It sets him on fucking fire. 

“Mmm,” Eddie moans, and Steve can feel it. “You taste so good, sugar. Like cherry vanilla.” 

Steve knows that’s the flavor of the lube Eddie’s using, knows that red and white bottle and what it tastes like on Eddie’s dick, but the way Eddie says it, wants him to know he tastes good, sends Steve shuddering. 

“Ohh, fuck, oh my god, daddy,” Steve babbles as Eddie laves his tongue against him, working him open with his mouth and moaning appreciatively as he does it. Steve’s arms are shaking, abs tensed up and everything wound tight. 

“Relax, sweet girl.” Eddie pulls back and strokes the side of Steve’s thigh. “You can rest your feet on my shoulders. Wanna feel you open up for me, wanna make you cry from how good it feels. You deserve it.” 

“Daddy,” Steve chokes out as Eddie licks at him again, letting his feet rest gently on Eddie’s shoulders as Eddie fully pulls him forward and hooks his hands around his legs to get more of his mouth on him.  

It feels unreal. Every so often, Eddie will add a little lube or spit or just work his tongue in a way that makes Steve jolt and cry out. He’s so completely lit up by pleasure that he knows he’s crying at this point, not making any sense, just a mess of need and wetness and sensation. He’s so hard it actually fucking hurts and his cock is sticky with all the pre-cum that’s dripping down it and pooling in his pubic hair. 

“Gonna give you a little more, kitten,” Eddie murmurs and slides a slick finger into Steve with practically no resistance. It feels like coming home, as melodramatic as Steve knows that is somewhere within his absolutely wrecked brain, and he hears himself keen as though it’s coming from somewhere else. Eddie adds another and scissors them, finger-fucking Steve open and making him shake. He takes his other hand and rolls his fingers against Steve’s perineum, curling his fingers into Steve’s prostate from the inside and the outside. Steve arches off the breakfast bar, fully sobbing, screaming in pleasure. 

“That’s it, good girl,” Eddie says, and fucking does it again.

“I’m gonna come!” Steve’s eyes flutter shut and he gasps as Eddie stops. 

“I don’t think so, sweetie. I need you to hold on just a little bit for me,” Eddie grips the base of Steve’s cock tightly, almost painfully, to hold off his impending orgasm. He takes his fingers out of Steve to further desensitize him and Steve breathes deeply, head spinning, trying to get himself back under control. 

“You want daddy to fuck you?” Eddie asks from where he is actually in fact sitting on a fucking chair, fully clothed, like he’s eating breakfast and not Steve’s ass. 

“I might die if you don’t,” Steve sniffles. 

“Come on, then,” Eddie pulls him forward and Steve slides off the counter. Eddie turns him around and Steve can feel how hard he is through the layer of denim separating his cock from Steve’s ass. “Grip the counter, baby.” 

“Daddy,” Steve moans, twisting around and craning his neck to kiss Eddie sloppily as he undoes his fly - oh, god, he’s going to fuck him like that. Fully clothed, with just his cock out. That’s so hot. 

“I’m gonna give you what you need,” Eddie grits out as he pours lube onto himself and Steve’s hole. Steve’s hands slap onto the countertop and he grips at the edge of it as Eddie kicks his legs apart roughly and pushes into him. 

“Ohhh, it’s too big!” Steve sobs, remembering his character. It actually is big, but he’s been worked open enough by Eddie’s tongue and fingers that it’s the perfect mix of pleasure and pain, and his head lolls forward. Eddie apparently isn’t satisfied by this, and he grabs a fistful of Steve’s hair and pulls sharply, wrenching his head back and making Steve arch his back as he presses the rest of the way into him. 

“You’re taking it so well, baby,” Eddie soothes. 

“Ah! It hurts, daddy! You’re splitting me in half!” Steve cries, acting a little less now. It does hurt, but he can feel Eddie’s dick seated against his prostate already and sending little tingles of pleasure through him. 

“Aww, princess. You’ve never had a dick this big, have you?” Eddie works his hips gently as he’s buried deep inside Steve, thrusting in little shallow movements, intensifying those tingles. 

“N-no, daddy,” Steve gasps. “It’s so much, I don’t know if I can do it.” 

“You’re gonna breathe for me and take it, pretty girl. It’s gonna start to feel really good for you if you trust me and relax.” 

“O-okay, daddy,” Steve whimpers. Eddie rolls his hips, dragging the head of his dick across Steve’s prostate and then pushing directly into it. “OH!” Steve shouts, hands tensing against the marble. Eddie pulls his hair sharply. 

“That’s right, angel. I felt that,” Eddie rolls his hips again and Steve makes a feral noise. “I felt your sweet little cunt clench around me.” 

“Daddy,” Steve moans. 

“What, you needy thing?” Eddie smacks his ass. It’s not the hardest he’s ever hit him, but the sound of it cracks through the room and Steve’s ass burns a little. 

“M-more!” Steve does his best to fuck himself back onto Eddie’s cock with the way Eddie’s holding him. 

“I was right,” Eddie laughs meanly, pulling almost entirely out and slamming back into Steve, punching the air out of his lungs. He does it again, and again, and Steve is actually crying, not acting in the slightest, it feels so harsh and raw and good. “I knew no one had ever fucked you like this. Never completely taken you apart until you cried from it. Never treated your precious body right.” 

“Never, daddy,” Steve sobs as Eddie fucks him hard and fast. 

“Until now,” Eddie closes a hand around Steve’s cock and strokes him as he pounds into him. “And you let me do it where anyone could see you. I ate you out on the countertop of your fucking store and you let me.” 

Steve makes a wrecked noise as he cries. He summons the last of his ability to do anything besides go boneless and take it. 

“You’ve ruined me,” Steve half-moan, half-sobs, and it sounds utterly pathetic. Perfect. “Daddy, you ruined me for anyone else, I’ve never felt it like this before. I’ve never felt anything like this.” 

“Ohhh, babygirl,” Eddie moans. Steve can feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside him and he thinks he might either die, or come, or both. 

“And I let you do it,” Steve cries. “Just like I’m gonna let you come in my cunt and breed me.” 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans hoarsely, rhythm faltering as he’s overcome by Steve’s words. He’s able to regain composure and drags his fingertips through the pre-cum that’s dripping from Steve’s cock, adding slickness to his grip and twisting just the way Steve loves it. “‘Cause that’s what you need, sugar. You need it just like this. You need me.” 

“Yes!” Steve gasps. “Needed you to ruin me, daddy. Need you to come in me. Need you.” 

“Are you gonna come for me, sweet little sailor girl?” 

“Mean, daddy,” Steve whimpers, but he knows Eddie can tell he’s close. 

“I know I’m mean. And you know you need permission,” Eddie’s dick is dragging so torturously against Steve’s prostate and he takes a thumb and just gently swirls it around the sensitive head of his cock, forgoing the stroking. 

“Please?” Steve’s voice is pathetic and thin and breathy and he’s literally so close that he can feel it in the soles of his feet, can feel himself clenching around Eddie. He doesn’t know if he can possibly stop himself if Eddie says no. 

“That’s my good girl,” Eddie uses the poor baby voice, and that sends Steve over the edge. “You’re daddy’s good girl. Come for me, princess.” 

Steve comes all over the kitchen island, Eddie’s hand, himself, and he can hear it spatter on the floor through his sobs. He feels like Eddie’s pulling him apart with the drag of his cock inside him and his hand stroking him through it. 

“I’m gonna-” Eddie gasps. “Gonna breed you,” he moans, and Steve feels Eddie's cock throb and twitch as cum floods into him. 

“Daddy!” He moans, still crying a little and breathing hard. “Ohhh, daddy, it’s filling me up!” 

“Y-yeah, it is,” Eddie breathes as he stills behind Steve. “Fuck, you took that so good.” 

“Thank you, daddy,” Steve’s voice is unsteady and a little slurry. He moans sadly as Eddie pulls out of him. 

“Don’t move, sweetheart.” 

What? What the fuck more could Eddie have for him? He stays braced against the counter as still as he can, what with his legs shaking like a fucking baby deer. 

“Daddy? What’re you doing?” 

“This,” Eddie says, and something pushes into Steve roughly. His voice cracks in the middle of the harsh noise he makes. It stretches him open, more and more, until it pops into him like the head of Eddie’s cock. 

“What is that?” Steve asks shakily. 

“It’s a plug, baby.” Eddie says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He bends down and scrubs a wet paper towel over Steve’s stomach and dick, cleaning him up. He pulls Steve’s thong up, carefully tucking his spent cock back into it, and then he drags the shorts back up his legs and into place. “I can’t have you leaking my cum into your uniform, sailor girl. You’re still on the clock.” 

Steve’s mouth drops open as he turns around to face Eddie, finally. His cock gives a feeble twitch and he can feel himself clench around the plug. Eddie, the fucking bastard, looks completely put together, aside from a slight flush to his cheeks. He’s tucked himself back into his jeans and looks for all the world like he’s just… well, like he’s just had some ice cream, or something just as innocuous. He holds the Scoops shirt out to Steve, grinning like an asshole. 

Steve stares at him for a long moment before he takes the shirt and puts it back on. Eddie grins even wider and tips his chin up for a long, sweet kiss. 

“Thanks for the sweet treat, Sailor Stevie.” Eddie winks at him and pulls back, walking towards the kitchen doorway before turning around. “I think you’ve got yourself a regular customer.” 

“Fuck you so much,” Steve exclaims and moves to come after Eddie, who’s already out in the hallway, laughing maniacally. He runs after him, except that he doesn’t - the plug makes sure of that.