Work Text:
march, 1987
It was a particularly shitty week. To start, on Monday a pop quiz ruined his morning, the failing grade immediately followed by his and Walt’s daily swirlie. On Tuesday his dad didn’t give him lunch money, leaving him to share half of Walt’s lunch. And his mom is a health freak. They were sitting there, sharing a peanut butter sandwich when a group of football jocks came over, picking and proding at Walt and calling them both faggots. Then, on Wednesday, while at the local comic book shop after school, the last VHS copy of Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home was snagged from him and Walt. The culprits being two snotty noses, spoiled bastards. Walt basically cried the whole walk home, blabbering on about how he hasn’t seen it since the final time they saw it in theaters. He had to remind him that they did still manage to see it five times but Walt kept going on about the cover art. On top of that, when they got to his house, his dad was waiting, wondering where the twenty dollar bill from his wallet went. Walt went home that night. He slept awful, spending most of the night rolling back and forth from his side to his back. Maybe it was from the bruise beginning to form on his ribs or because, for the first time in two months, he’s alone on his twin sized bed.
Due to getting only two hours of sleep, Thursday was a drag. Everyone's antics were beginning to get to him, the small vein above his eyebrow bulging by the end of his and Walt’s fifth period study hall. Walt had his hand resting on his wrist, begging him to tell him what was wrong, asking if he did something wrong. The simple action drew the attention of Shannon Hamilton sitting in the back of the room. He put his book down and came up to the duo, smacking his hands on their pushed together desks. Walt jumped back, Shannon started with the usual picking, calling them every uncreative name they’ve already heard a million times. Then, he picked up Walt’s comic that was resting on his desk. His new copy of Legends issue six, still in the clear protective bag. Walt screamed, begging him not to pull it out, Shannon obviously ignored him. Pulling it out and smudging his thumb prints all over the cover before trying to put it back in the back, only to tear the cover in half. Not even a second passed before Steve Dave was standing, the plastic chair flying back, and was jumping on top of Shannon. With a swift blow to Shannon’s cheek, Walt started cheering. Jumping up and down behind Steve Dave. He got suspended. When the principal told him and his dad for five days his dad smacked him upside the head and walked out the office. Friday was the worst. Despite hating school, he had nothing to do now. He wasn’t acclimated to the Friday afternoon section of the T.V Guide and once again, he was alone. Most of his comics were at Walt’s, all of his newer ones that is. He sat around, channel surfing and doodling in his notebook till Walt was knocking on his bedroom window. Steve Dave opened his window, making room for Walt to crawl through but he said he had to go home, that he just wanted to make sure he was okay. He handed Steve Dave his text books and missed work from the day, and at the top of the pile was the new issue of Wonder Woman. Steve Dave could kiss Walt. Not that he wanted to, but he could. Knowing that Walt would lean into it, kissing him back. For the past few months now, Steve Dave has been having an issue with thinking about his best friend’s lips, even when they’re not practicing kissing for girls. It was his idea, freshman year before their first homecoming dance. Both thinking they’d have a date to it, Steve Dave suggested they practice kissing each other when he noticed how anxious the thought made Walt. But now, years later, after no dates with girls and countless practices, Steve Dave finds himself kissing Walt when he wants, afterwards telling him it was just one of their sessions. Each time Walt would hazily smile, his face flushed, and breathing heavily. He’d say okay and then change the subject to an episode of Buck Rogers he watched the night before. On Saturday, while his parents were grocery shopping, Steve Dave thought fuck it, and stole a bottle of vodka from his parents liquor cabinet. He carefully wrapped it in a few shirts before shoving it in his backpack along with a change of clothes, and his sketch book. Walt answered the front door, still in his pajamas. Boxers and one of Steve Dave’s old Rocky and Bullwinkle shirts.
“Perfect timing Steve Dave!” Walt practically yelled. “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse is about to start. Come in,” He moved to the side, Steve Dave coming in. Walt walked into the kitchen, pulling a box of cereal off the top of the fridge and walked back. Steve Dave was already sitting on the couch, the intro to Pee-Wee playing.
“Sorry, I drank the rest of the milk last night.” Walt chuckled, plopping himself down on the couch.
“Mom closed last night so dinner was cereal.”
Steve Dave looked over at him, taking the box of Frosted Flakes from Walt’s hands. His eyes drifting down to his exposed thighs, the dark hair starting where the boxers ended and running down his legs. Steve Dave groaned, extremely over these obsessive thoughts. Getting only a few hours of sleep last night because once Walt left his window, he couldn’t stop thinking about his lips. And how good it felt to have another body pressed up against him, how warm Walt always felt underneath his touch.
After Pee-Wee’s Playhouse Walt asked if they could go to the mall to check out the comic shop. Steve Dave said sure, unable to ever say no to Walt. Especially when he’s sitting there in his old shirt, stretched out at the collar and hanging off his shoulder. Maybe comics would distract him. They didn’t. At the comic shop the Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home display was halfway through being restocked when Walt ran over, knocking the worker over to grab the tape. He was smiling wide while showing Steve Dave his catch, demanding that they went back home to immediately watch it. Steve Dave didn’t want to watch it though, he saw on T.V Guide that the first two Jaws movies were playing. But they did, stuffed in Walt’s room on his twin sized bed. Walt sat at the end of the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, engrossed in the film. Steve Dave meanwhile quietly grabbed his backpack sitting next to the bed and pulled out the bottle of vodka. Sipping it each time his brain started to wander. By the time Walt looked back at him, the bottle was half empty.
“Where did you get that?” Walt asked, scootching up the bed to sit next to Steve Dave. Their knees touching. Steve Dave took another sip.
“I stole it from my parents' cabinet. This week has been awful.” Walt rested his head against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Steve Dave mumbled, beyond grumpy at this point.
“Can I have some?” Steve Dave passed him the bottle. He turned towards the small t.v, resting his head against Walt’s, his dark hair tickling his face. They handed the bottle back and forth till it was empty and both boys were red faced, giggling, and falling into one another.
“That is by far the gayest shit Star Trek has done.” Steve Dave said, causing Walt to smack him, offended.
“Star Trek is not gay!”
“How else would you explain the past two hours? They were literally in the homo capital of the world.” Walt scoffed and crossed his arms.
“You’re wrong. It’s a beautiful tale of friendship.” Steve Dave laughed hard, holding his stomach. His face was starting to hurt from smiling this much. The two of them were sitting across from each other on the bed, their knees still touching. His blonde hair fell in his face, his ponytail snapping earlier that morning. He wanted to get a haircut last summer, tired of taking care of his thick hair but Walt begged him not to. Comparing his hair to Thor and He-Man, asking him to continue to grow it out. He heard Walt huff, the atmosphere changing. Steve Dave’s laughs died out, still smiling at Walt he asked him what was wrong.
“You’re so pretty.” Walt said and Steve Dave’s smile fell. Walt awkwardly chuckled. “You’re so pretty when I’m drunk.” He hesitantly reached out, pushing Steve Dave’s hair back behind his ear. Steve Dave leaned into his hand, losing control of his body. Looking at Walt it feels as if he’s been hypnotized, or maybe Walt slipped something into the drink when he wasn’t looking.
“You’re so pretty.” Steve Dave echoed. “Even when I’m not drunk.” He closed the gap between them, cupping Walt’s face with both of his hands. Years of practice has made it only easier for them, Steve Dave knowing just what to do to get Walt squirming. Walt was kissing back just as aggressively, his tolerance being much lower than Steve Dave’s. He was in his lap, pulling hard at Steve Dave’s hair, eliciting moans out of him. Steve Dave pulled away and lied back on the bed, with Walt straddling him. Their eyes were locked as they panted. Steve Dave was uncomfortably hard, and even more uncomfortable because he knew Walt could feel it.
“Is this one of our practices?” Walt asked and Steve Dave shook his head, unable to catch his breath still. The look on Walt’s face made it impossible to relax. His mullet was unbelievably disheveled along with his Steve Dave’s shirt, and Steve Dave could see his buck teeth due to him still panting. He was pretty. Steve Dave didn’t need to drink to think that but definitely to say it. He’s too stubborn, only able to feel fully comfortable while alone with Walt in his dark bedroom. The thought of Walt finding him pretty made him feel better than any fantasy he’s ever had about a girl. Better than the time freshman year, while on vacation with Walt and his family, he and Walt stayed up late to watch Skinemax. Seeing their first set of boobs together, both covering their laps with pillows.
“No, this isn’t practice. But we could play ‘Naked Robbers’.” Steve Dave smiled up at him. Walt nodded, getting off Steve Dave and the bed all together. Standing at the end of the bed, the static of the VHS illuminating him as he hurriedly started to undress.
“You’re so pretty Walt,” he admitted, admiring him. Walt put his chin to his bare chest, blushing. He was in boxers, freckles were scattered across his shoulders and chest, and the line of hair going under his waist band excited Steve Dave. They’ve seen each other naked a hundred times by now, obviously, but something about this felt different. Steve Dave thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest.
“You think?”
“Yeah.” Staring at Walt he feels a turn in his week, maybe it wasn’t that shitty. It was worth punching Shannon Hamilton, it felt good giving him a lick of his own taste. Plus, he could hold that over Walt now. And everything else led up to him deciding to steal the bottle of vodka, leading to him having the confidence to tell Walt over and over that he was pretty. Halfway through naked robbers, sitting on their knees on the bed in their boxers, Steve Dave did bring up the punch. Reminding Walt that he got expelled for him, that if it was his own comic he wouldn’t have cared. Walt pushed his chest, scoffing and calling him a liar. Steve Dave leaned in and pecked his lips. Pulling away he told Walt that he still owed him, even if he was lying. Walt started rubbing Steve Dave’s arm up and down, connecting his freckles and occasionally squeezing his muscle.
“What can I do to make it up to you then?” Walt asked with a sheepish grin.
“There's a Jaws marathon on, if you put it on now we might catch the last half of Jaws 2.” Walt jumped up on the bed, standing above Steve Dave.
“Why didn’t you say sooner?” He yelled, jumping off the bed and going over to his t.v, messing with the knobs. “We’ll go to RST tomorrow and get 3D, I’m pretty sure my copy of Jaws is at your house. We’ll have a marathon tomorrow.” Walt found it, turning to Steve Dave and smiling wide.
“There’s a new one coming out this summer.”
“I know Steve Dave.” Walt said, crawling back onto the bed. This time sitting in Steve Dave’s lap, Steve Dave reaching up and running his fingers through his hair. “We talked about it Thursday.”
“Right,” Steve Dave clicked his tongue. “That was before I punched Shannon Hamilton for ripping your Legends copy.” Walt groaned.
“That would’ve been worth a lot of money one day!” Walt screeched and Steve Dave laughed, wrapping his arms around him tightly and squeezing.
“I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” Walt hummed and turned his attention to the movie, Steve Dave’s eyes on him. He’s going to regret this tomorrow, he knows he is, but he can worry about that after the Jaws marathon. Because right now, this feels too good.