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“So?” Robin says, popping her hip against the counter and dipping her finger in the bowl with the dough. Steve swats her off. “How have you been settling in with your new house guest?”
“Fine,” Steve says. He can see her shit-eating grin at the corner of his vision, but he chooses to ignore it and focus on flipping his pancake instead. “And he’s not my house guest, he’s … a friend. A roommate. I dunno, I’m just doing what every decent person would do.”
Eddie needs a place to lie low and recover from his injuries after all, and with him still very much being a wanted man, there weren’t a lot of options. Especially since half the town fell into an interdimensional rift and those houses that are still standing are all bursting at the seams.
“A roommate, huh?” says Robin. “My aunt Marie has a roommate, y’know? Doris, charming lady. They've been living together for ten years, which is quite impressive seeing how their apartment has only one bedroom.”
Steve stabs at the pancake with the spatula.
“Yeah, well, luckily I have plenty of bedrooms. And instead of making stupid insinuations, you could think up a plan on how to get Eddie some new clothes without looking suspicious. All of his were destroyed along with the trailer and I'm tired of him helping himself from my closet. He's been making a complete mess of things, and it's weird, seeing him run around in my stuff. It feels like he's mocking me. Munson! Move your ass downstairs, breakfast is ready!”
The last part, he hollers out of the open kitchen door and in the general direction of the stairs.
“Calm your tits, I'm on my way,” comes the reply, and a second later, Eddie’s legs appear at the top of the stairway. He's still walking with a slight limp, so it takes a few moments for the rest of him to come into view. When it does, Steve almost drops the spatula.
“You need to do the laundry, Harrington,” Eddie says, rolling up the sleeves of Steve's old varsity jacket as he goes. “It was either this thing or some atrocious little sailor shirt, and while I'd love to hear the story behind that particular- … what?”
Steve realizes his mouth is hanging open. Closes it. Opens it again.
“I- uh … nothing,” he lies. “Laundry, yeah. I ought to- … It's just-
… You look good in green, that's all.”
Eddie tilts his head at him.
“Riiight. Anyhow, if you don't mind, I need to powder my nose before breakfast. Feel free to start without me.”
He limps on towards the bathroom, tipping an invisible hat at Robin. Steve watches him go, his own name emblazoned across Eddie’s shoulders shining like a beacon in the morning light. Robin loops an arm around his waist.
“You look good in green? Jeez, dingus, do I need to get out the tally board again?”
Steve has never been happy to hear the smoke alarm going off, but there's a first time for everything, he guesses.