Eddie has a serious problem.
A quagmire, perhaps, and it’s a real catch-22 of a situation too.
The problem really stems from how his and Steve’s third baby Hazel was born a few weeks earlier.
The baby isn’t the problem, obviously.
It’s just…it is a truth universally acknowledged or whatever that men holding tiny little babies is hot as all hell even as a baseline. Factor in that the man in question is Steve Harrington, and then factor in that Hazel is their third baby so any nervousness has been completely eclipsed by an easy kind of confidence, and what you end up with is a level of hotness that really shouldn’t be allowed.
Also – Eddie forgot to mention, ever since Steve hit forty, he’s had the smallest hint of grey growing right at his temples and that isn’t helping things at all.
Eddie could eat him, honestly.
He really can’t believe the audacity of this guy for…just existing, really. Eddie can admit that all Steve is really guilty of is holding his infant daughter, but dear god what a crime that is.
Like, right now Steve is holding the baby against his chest with just one arm (and, seriously, the one arm thing is goddamn killing him, because it flexes his bicep in just the right way and Eddie would bite a chunk out of it if he could), the other midway through chucking a throw pillow at their oldest daughter for being a total monster about…well, Eddie would probably know what particular flavor of hell Moe is raising at the moment if he could take his eyes off of Steve for even a second.
But he can’t, so here they are.
Eddie also might be drifting off a little bit, and therein lies the catch-22 of it all –
It’s true that Steve is by far the hottest he’s ever been, but Eddie’s so tired that he couldn’t do anything about it even if he wanted to.
Actually – he’ll rephrase.
If he wasn’t so fucking tired, he’d be doing something about it.
Immediately.
And, like, he has no fucking shame at all about this. Decorum and discretion, maybe, but shame? None whatsoever.
Why should he?
It’s clearly the universe’s way of repaying him for all the shit it put him through as a teenager. Why the hell else would he not only be married to Steve, but also watching him fulfill his lifelong wish of becoming a dad three times over and aging like the finest of fine wines while he’s doing it. Eddie’s never even been a wine kind of guy, but when it’s Steve…obviously all bets are off.
Except, he's not being repaid in full, because there's the downside of having a newborn again – newborn babies don’t sleep. Well – she sleeps, but not when it’s convenient for Eddie and certainly not at the same time as his and Steve’s other two daughters. Plus, she’s proving herself to prefer contact naps over anything else, which Steve obviously loves, and…yeah, there’s a good few reasons why that shit doesn’t help Eddie’s situation at all.
Regardless, he hasn’t managed to sleep more than four straight hours at any point over the last three weeks, so any time he does have a child-free second to spare, that’s what he’s doing.
Steve notices him looking, because of course he does.
“What?” he asks, his voice low and quiet and a little tired and so so sexy.
“Oh, the things I’m doing to you in my head, Stevie-boy,” Eddie replies, (even though he knows he’ll be crashing the second his head hits the pillow – whenever the hell that ends up being).
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says even as he shifts Hazel so she’s cradled in the curve of his arm (because he’s a goddamn bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing), “Put your money where your mouth is, babe.”
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god. so my therapist is losing access to her space and can't find another one for a long time so our last session is next week. we're trying to get me in with somebody who does somatic experiencing/physical trauma work etc but it's such a fucking trial.
pretty much none of them take insurance let alone medicaid and ones with sliding scale are still like 90 bucks a session at the low end.
she also wants me to do psychedelic integration and/or ketamine therapy (ket is the only legal one at the moment and she doesn't know anyone who do other drugs officially yet)
the only ketamine place that takes insurance isn't accepting any more medicaid patients for the foreseeable future. so. that sucks.
the last thing I want is to be in some beige office doing only talk therapy. it just isn't fucking enough.
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