re: last reblog, if anyone in the path of the storms tonight ends up losing power/tv signal and want to stay informed ryan hall on youtube should be live through the whole thing, he's my family's go-to when we inevitably end up losing power in bad storms
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smiles that don't flake off
written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt: rest | WC: 387 | T | CW: None
"This isn't all of it, they still have to do the rest," he overhears Eddie telling Argyle of all people. "Once it's healed, they'll do color; then it'll pop!"
It's not weird, that he has his head in the fridge eavesdropping on his two newest… friends? They’re friends. Age appropriate friends that he's borrowed from other people. Only Argyle is more Eddie’s friend, bonded by being the freshest members of Team Victims of Government Oversight.
And Eddie… Well Steve likes to think they’re more than friends. They live together and sleep in the same bed and sometimes they even touch each other's dicks. But Tommy and Robin are his only comparison points (they've also seen his dick.)
He’s just curious, trying to be whatever about it, cause Eddie had laughed when Steve gently asked if the cool, underground tattoo guy had botched it. Said it was perfect with his sleeves pulled down to his wrists. Steve thought they had something good going.
Seriously, Argyle gets to see it!
“That is some righteous work, my man. Has-”
“No! I want it to be finished first, y’know.”
“Right, but if you hide, it could look like you don’t trust your bro with this intimate part of yourself.”
That’s when he decides he’s had his head in the fridge for too long.
“Found some of last night’s pizza, Eds I brought you water for your cottonmouth.”
It's at least subtle, when Argyle nudges Eddie. "Stevie! I realized I never- I kinda wanted it to be a surprise once it was finished, but I guess you can still see the vision even without color. And I wanted to get something for you and name tattoos are a curse, and you're it for me, even if we haven't really talked about it. Do we need to?"
"Just show it to me?"
Arm on display and it's him. Deniably but Steve knows that's safer. His face softened in a Geena Davis sort of way. His face on a body that will soon be wearing a bright blue sailor's uniform, the shorts somehow shorter, the socks higher, and the ass even more on display than it had felt all that summer.
"Eddie, I love you," it slips from him for the first time, but it's true, "I'm going to cut off your fucking arm."
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