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This is stupid. This is stupid and he shouldn’t have agreed. He looks stupid.
Eddie’s caught sight of himself in the tall, perfectly clean windows of the Chicago penthouse Steve lives in (fuckin’ trust fund kid that Steve is, having a fucking penthouse for himself). Eddie’s got his hair pulled back into a low ponytail and he’d used hairspray to try to tame his wild curls into something half presentable, but the cheap hairspray hadn’t held up on his way here (three separate buses he’d had to take, and it was fucking windy) and he could see it starting to look frizzy again. The black suit he’s wearing has been perfectly tailored for him, but he feels like a pretender in it. He can’t even remember the last time he’s worn a shirt with buttons, much less the last him he’s had them all buttoned and a tie on. Stupid.
He feels like some chump playing dress up.
Eddie is good at forgetting that Steve comes from money. It helps that usually they’re hanging out at Eddie’s trailer, Robin’s apartment, or roaming the Chicago streets, hitting up cafes and bars depending on the time of day. Plus, Steve doesn’t act like how Eddie thought a spoiled trust fund kid would act (most of the time).
Doesn’t matter. Not the point. He shouldn’t have agreed to this when Steve had asked him, weeks ago now, in Robin’s apartment kitchen.
“A date!” Steve had shouted. He looked a little manic. Eddie heard as Robin had cackled from the living room at the panicked shout. “Oh. Sorry. Shouldn’t have just yelled that at you. I’m a little worked up.”
“I can tell. Why do you need me to get you a date?” Eddie was confused.
“No, not get me a date. Be my date. To the charity event!”
“What,” Eddie said. Because since when does Steve want to go on a date with him? Eddie really shouldn’t be questioning it because it’s the only things he’s wanted for months now.
“Can you just pretend to be my date,” Steve said a little bitchily as he’d put his hands on his hips, “for one night?”
Oh. Pretend date. For one night. That… yeah, that checks out. Makes more sense in Eddie’s head than Steve actually wanting him the same way he wants Steve.
“Eddie, yes or no?” Steve said.
“Alright, alright,” Eddie had thrown his hands up in defense, “One night! Jesus.”
He should have said no. Steve’s going take one look at him and laugh up a storm at how stupid he looks.
“Eddie!” Steve’s voice startles him from his thoughts, and he jumps a little, turning quickly from where he’d been staring at his own reflection to see Steve enter the living room. Steve looks downright sinful, all dressed to the nines in a burgundy suit. Even the fucking loafer’s Steve is wearing are the same shade of burgundy at the suit. He's styled perfectly, not a hair out of place. Makes Eddie want to reach out and ruffle his hair just to get a reaction, while simultaneously wanting to smooth down is own hair, which he knows looks pathetic. Steve continues, “I-thanks. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually, y’know, follow through.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I said I would and I’m a man of my word,” Eddie aims for sounding casual, like he’s not currently stressed and spiraling.
“Yeah, of course man. I know that,” Steve says, “guess you wouldn’t sit through three separating tailoring sessions to not wear the suit.”
“Exactly. Plus, like, now I got something to wear to weddings and shit, if our friends ever get their shit together and someone proposes,” Eddie spreads his arms, “so, how do I look?”
Steve looks him up and down, eyes moving slowly as he seems to be taking every detail of Eddie’s look. The longer it takes him to speak, the more Eddie’s certain that he does in fact look stupid. “You look fine, Eds. What’d you do to your hair?”
Eddie’s stomach drops. He fucking knew it. He looks like some idiot pretending to play at high class. Eddie knows better. He’ll never be anything more than trailer park trash and no shiny new suit could make him look any different. “Nothing. Don’t we have to be going?”
Eddie should have said no because this is goddamn torture. Steve is a prefect date. He holds doors open, introduces Eddie (with enthusiasm!) to everyone that comes up to them, gets him drinks and snacks, seems to keep one hand on the small of his back the whole night, grounding Eddie.
He talks up Corroded Coffin as if they’re a legitimate up and coming band and not some garage band that plays in sleezy bars every few months. Parades Eddie around like he’s a catch and everyone should be jealous that their date isn’t Eddie. Every twenty to thirty minutes he’s using that hand on his lower back to guide him outside, to the much more deserted courtyard, like he knows Eddie is overwhelmed and needs a break.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me,” Eddie says the next time they walk away from some random couple they’d gotten roped into talking too, because Steve had slid the hand on his back to be fully around his waist and his nuzzled the side of his face when the lady had said they made a cute couple and if Eddie doesn’t make a joke of this he will explode.
“Is it working?”
Eddie has to laugh at him to keep from giving himself away.
So, all in all, it’s fucking awful. If Steve could have at least been a bad date, flirted with the ladies they've talked to in front of Eddie or something, this might be bearable. Eddie doesn’t know if he can survive a night of having Steve dote on him, all lovingly and shit, and it not actually be because they’re in love.
Eddie’s trying his best to keep it together, really, but then Steve’s parents, the hosts of this event, finally get the time to get away from the other Elites and come talk to him and Steve.
“So, you must be Eddie!” Mrs. Harrington coos, immediately stepping into Eddie’s space and giving him a kiss on the cheek, the exact same she’d done with Steve when they approached. “We’ve heard so much about you!”
“Y-you have?” Eddie can’t keep the surprise off his face or out of his voice.
“Of course,” Mrs. Harrington laughs. “You’re all we hear about these days. Have been the main topic of Steve’s calls for years now.”
“Mom!” Steve hisses, embarrassed no doubt by the assumptions his mother seems to be making.
“She’s right, Steve-o,” Mr. Harrington says, patting Steve on the back like he’s sympathetic to his wife’s antics, even as his words encourage his wide more. “We haven’t heard this much about a person since you dated that girl in high school. What was her name? Natalie?”
“Nancy, honey,” Mrs. Harrington helpful supplies, “Nancy Wheeler. Oh, I wonder how she’s doing these days. Do you keep in touch, Stevie-Bee?”
“Stevie-Bee!?” Eddie is delighted to repeat the nickname because he is going to call Steve that forever now.
“Mom!” Steve yelps, face turning pink, “I am twenty-six years old. I think you can stop calling me that. Especially in public!”
“Oh, but you’ll always be my little Stevie-Bee, buzzing around so fast.”
It takes all of Eddie’s willpower to not snort a laugh. Holy shit. Steve’s parents are embarrassing and this is the best thing that could have possibly happened to him.
“So, Eddie, Steve says you’re a musician,” Mr. Harrington seems to finally take pity on Steve, switching attention to Eddie, “in a metal band. Says your amazing but haven’t been signed yet.”
“Oh, uh, no. No, not signed… yet,” Eddie adds the yet as an afterthought, because he’s certain they’ll never get signed for real, but he’s not going to admit that to the Harringtons.
“Shame, shame,” Mr. Harrington frowns, “I tried to get Steve to send me a demo of your music, but he refused. Said you wanted to make it on your own, not be ‘bought by the industry’. But if you ever want a leg in, I do know a few producers looking for new talent. I promise I won’t talk you up. Just hand them the tape and let them decide if they like you.”
Eddie feels a bit lightheaded. What is happening? Because it’s true. Eddie had said they wanted to make it on their own, had kind of yelled it at Steve when Steve had offered to use his semi-famous status to get them gigs in better places. Eddie hadn’t wanted his charity, because that’s what he felt like it would have been, when Steve offered that years ago. But Steve talks to his dad about his band. Steve knows how important it is for him to not just pay his way to the top. This is too much. This tie is too tight, and this shirt is buttoned too high for him.
Steve’s hand is on his lower back, leading him away, calling over his shoulder to his parents, “we’ve got to go over there now, thanks, bye!”
Eddie hears Mrs. Harrington laugh like Steve’s told a hilarious joke but it fades quickly as Steve basically runs him back through the gala and up the stairs, to the private bathroom that was reserved for, apparently, only the Harringtons.
Honestly, Eddie’s calmed down by the time they reach the stairs, but he lets Steve lead him all the way to the bathroom. They stand in front of the counter, blocking access to the sinks. Not that it would matter, because no one else is in here.
“Sorry, for them,” Steve immediately apologizes for his parents, “they mean well, but they’re… a lot.”
Eddie doesn’t respond right away because his brain is still processing. Steve talks about him to his parents. “You told your dad about my band?”
Steve won’t meet his eyes. “Umm, yeah. He doesn’t look like it, but my dad’s a Black Sabbath fan. And you said that was like, one of your inspiration bands when starting Corroded Coffin so…”
That pulls a laugh from Eddie, high pitched and awkward because Mr. Harrington is a wealthy white-collar worker, who wears three-piece suits and has his hair cut close to his head, and the thought of him head banging in his car on his drive to work enters Eddie’s mind against his volition and he must laugh at the image it conjures. “Holy. Shit. Stevie-bee.”
“Do not-“
“Your parents are so embarrassing. No wonder you needed me to be your date. Holy shit. Just imagine if you’d brought a real date. They’d have run away so fast!”
“Yeah.... Well, uh, thanks for not running.”
“I’m trying to blend in. Running would be too much of a spectacle.”
“Blend in? Is that why you did that?” Steve gestures to his hair and Eddie feels his face heat up. “And why you picked just a regular black suit?”
“You said black tie event. Of course, I picked black. And what’s wrong with my hair?” Eddie turns his head to look in the mirror before looking back to Steve.
“Nothing’s wrong with it, Eds. It’s just not… you.”
Of course, it’s not, Eddie thinks. He’d been thinking that all day. The double takes people on the bus had given him had told him he’d looked ridiculous. He’d thought that when he saw his reflection in Steve’s windows. “I know! This isn’t me.” He gestures to all of himself.
Steve tilts his head slightly, looking Eddie up and down again. Instead of speaking he steps forward and starts yanking at Eddie's tie. Eddie freezes because Steve’s so close and he looks so determined suddenly and Eddie wants to see where this is going. Steve throws the tie on the ground before going for the buttons on Eddie’s shirt. He undoes the top three, then moves to his suit jacket and undoes all of those buttons.
Then, Steve steps closer, into Eddie space, reaching up behind his head to remove his hair tie. Steve pulls at his hair a few times during the attempt, but he doesn’t stop Steve. Once his hair is free, Steve flings the hair tie over his shoulder and Eddie tracks it through the air until it bounces off the wall. Steve then runs his hands through Eddie’s hair, shaking it out and pulling it forward.
“There. Better.”
Eddie turns to the mirror and is disappointed. Steve said better and Eddie had been expecting better. But it’s just him. His hair looks like it does every day, wild and frizzy and everywhere. “Better? This is how I always look.”
“I like how you always look, Eds,” Steve says, quiet and serious. In the mirror, he watches Steve’s reflection stare at the side of his head. “I think you’re beautiful.”
Eddie gives himself whiplash turning to look at Steve. “What.”
Steve shakes his head, a self-deprecating laugh coming from his lips. “Come on, Eds, like you didn’t know.”
“I don’t know,” Eddie argues because it’s true. He’s got no clue.
“Look, if this is gonna make it harder for you to pretend to be my date, we can go. I don’t want this to be awkward. I just wanted…”
“Steve. Stevie,” Eddie feels a little bit like he’s on fire. “I am going to need us to talk right now because I’ve spent this whole night thinking I looked stupid, and you tell me I’m beautiful and that’s-“
“Stupid!?” Steve interrupts, indignant, “never! You just looked so uncomfortable and-“
“No, I was still talking!” Eddie says, “I’ve spent this whole night wishing you were a terrible date because then I could go home and forget about this but instead, you’re a perfect date and you think I’m beautiful and you talk to your parents about me and I really, really want to kiss you.”
Steve takes his face in his hands and then Eddie is being kissed. Holy shit. It’s the best kiss of Eddie’s life. When they separate to catch their breath, Steve blurts out, “I told my parents we were dating. Months ago. They wouldn’t stop asking and mom can always tell when I have a crush and I just panicked and told her we were together, and she said we had to come to this event so she could meet you because this was the earliest they could get to Chicago.”
Eddie’s lightheaded all over again. There is a lot to unpack in Steve’s word vomit but that can be a later problem. Instead, Eddie just pulls him in for another kiss.
Or five.
Who’s keeping track anyway?