#love is sharing food

[steddieas-shegoes]

sounds like a date

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is sharing food' rated g | 743 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting

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"Can I have a fry?" Eddie asked with his mouth half full of the last fry he'd stolen off Steve's plate.

"Why didn't you just get your own fries?" Steve asked, handing him a fry from his plate.

"Because I only wanted a couple and you always share with me," Eddie shoved the fry into his mouth.

That was true; Steve always shared his food when they were having their usual date night at the diner. In fact, he pretty much only got fries because he knew Eddie would want some.

He preferred just eating his turkey club sandwich and smiling over at Eddie who always ordered two milkshakes because he could never decide on a flavor, a cheeseburger, onion rings that he complained were soggy every time, and a chef salad for balance.

Eddie never finished his food, or the milkshakes, but he always finished Steve's fries.

So it became an unspoken routine, something Steve wasn't even sure Eddie noticed even after months of doing it. Robin said he was a sap for doing it, but he didn't care.

"How's the chocolate shake?" Steve asked as Eddie dipped another stolen fry into it. "Good with the fries?"

"Yeah, but the strawberry is better. They didn't add extra chocolate syrup this time," Eddie half-pouted, as if he didn't complain about their lack of chocolate in the chocolate shake every time he ordered it.

"Can I have a sip of your Coke?" Eddie asked after another minute of stealing fries from Steve's plate.

Steve wordlessly handed his cup over, surprised it took him this long to ask for it. He usually asked way before he'd even started on the fries.

Eddie, as expected, took a few large sips, almost draining the rest of the drink.

"Why doesn't the waitress ever bring us napkins?" Eddie asked as he set the cup back down in front of Steve.

Steve handed him one of the napkins he'd grabbed from the table they passed on the way to their own. The waitress did always forget to bring them, so Steve prepared.

"You're so good to me," Eddie smirked, brushing his foot against Steve's ankle under the table.

Steve was pretty sure the waitress knew what was going on between them and just hadn't bothered to say anything, and the rest of the diner was empty. Their date night was pretty late, right after Eddie's Hellfire night with the kids that always seemed to go longer and longer. It was damn near midnight now, most of the town in bed, the rest up to no good somewhere else.

It was peaceful, being here with Eddie like this.

It was a look at a future they could have, at least a version of it, though neither of them planned on staying in Hawkins forever.

Steve slid his plate of the few remaining fries over to Eddie and wiped his hands on his napkin. "Finish 'em. I'm done."

"You didn't even eat any," Eddie pointed out before grabbing another one.

"Wasn't that hungry, I guess."

"Mhm," Eddie smirked knowingly, but didn't comment further.

"All set for the bill?" The waitress came by to ask, tapping her pen against the pad of paper. "Who gets it tonight?"

Eddie pointed at Steve, like he did every single week they did this.

Steve took the bill from her hand like he did every single week.

He pulled out his wallet, grabbed the $10 in cash he always kept there for date night, and handed it back to her.

Eddie waited until she walked away to pull out his wallet, grabbing $2 for a tip.

"You know at some point, you may have to actually pay for a date," Steve said as he slipped his jacket on.

"Maybe," Eddie shrugged, like he knew Steve loved paying for their date, made him feel like he could provide. Eddie joked it was his inner caveman. "Maybe I'll just take us on a nice road trip with all this money I'm savin'."

"Oh?" Steve froze.

Eddie looked back at him, beaming smile.

"Yeah. Next month sound good to you? A tour of diners across the midwest. Every night is date night. All my treat," Eddie suggested, like he'd already had this planned for a while. "I'd love to steal your fries in new places, Stevie."

Steve felt himself blushing, somehow always surprised at the lengths Eddie went to to make him feel so loved.

"Sounds like a date."

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | explicit | 2.7k | tags: friends with benefits, they are in love your honor they are just bad with words, food sex (ice cream), slight dom/sub undertones (dom Steve/sub Eddie), blowjobs | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is sharing food by @sparklyslug | AO3)

Thursday is officially Eddie's favorite day of the week.

He freely admits that this is a recent development, because before he and Steve started their weekly movie nights, Saturday was Eddie's favorite day. But not even the prospect of having a full day off and another one to look forward to could beat spending several hours alone with Steve.

It's not that he really minds sharing Steve most of the time, because Eddie knows that Steve is happiest when all members of their unconventional little family are safe and accounted for. But the greedy part of Eddie revels in the knowledge that he could have Steve all to himself for a few hours each week.

In hindsight, he should have known that this particular kind of possessiveness was probably not normal friendship behavior. Nor was it really making an effort with his clothes and his appearance for a night on Steve's couch with just the two of them and their movie of the week. But Eddie can be slow on the uptake, especially when it comes to his (previously non-existent) love life.

It took Steve kissing him with lips that tasted like the buttery popcorn he had prepared for them for Eddie to realize that what he felt for Steve was different from what he felt for his other friends.

After that, their movie night routine changed slightly.

It was still every Thursday, but now Eddie usually stayed at Steve's place or vice versa after the movie was over.

They still took turns choosing the movie, but now they always had to pause or rewind whatever was playing because they got lost in each other again.

It was still a rule that they had to bring their own snacks, but now they made sure to bring something that the other one liked, because they knew that's what their kisses would taste like.

Of course, about two months after their friendship has evolved into what it is now, Steve has to break one of their few (admittedly unspoken) rules.

"I can't believe you would betray me like that," Eddie exclaims as Steve squeezes the cold plastic tube into his hands so Eddie can put it in the freezer. At Steve's questioning look, his eyebrows practically hidden behind his floppy hair, Eddie waggles the ice cream in Steve's face. "Mint chocolate chips! The ice cream of heathens and old men."

The sound of Steve's laughter fills the trailer's small kitchen.

"I don't know what's so funny, Steve. This is disgusting. I refuse to let you near me if you taste like this vile abomination."

"Oh wow, tell me how you really feel," Steve laughs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He crosses his arms over his very broad and lickable chest, the white t-shirt straining against his biceps and distracting Eddie enough that he doesn't notice the calculating look in Steve's eyes.

"I bet I can convince you otherwise before the night is over," Steve says, sounding like he has no doubt he can change Eddie's mind. As if he never had to deal with Eddie's stubborn ass before.

"Yeah, sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

With a cocky smile on his pretty face, he looks just like King Steve did at the height of his reign, only now the sight makes heat pool in Eddie's groin.

"Wanna bet?" He asks and Eddie's animal brain senses the danger behind those two simple words, a predator playing with his food. Too bad Eddie has a very twisted sense of self-preservation, so he just sticks out his hand for Steve to shake.

"Sure, I'll bet you can't get me to like mint chocolate chip ice cream by the end of the night. If I win, I get to pick the movies for two months."

"Two months?" Steve exclaims loudly, clearly shocked, before he catches himself and the confident look returns to his face. "Fine. After I win, I get to take you on a weekend trip to Indy, on me."

Eddie blinks at him, confused, because that doesn't sound like a price to Eddie, more like a reward. But Steve looks so sure of himself that Eddie doesn't correct him. It doesn't matter anyway, because there's no way Eddie can lose this bet.

They shake hands on it, both holding on longer than necessary to seal the deal.

After the brief interlude in Eddie's kitchen, the rest of the evening goes on as usual. They watch Stand By Me because Eddie loves Stephen King and Steve secretly loves coming-of-age movies, which is no surprise considering his own upbringing was filled with absentee parents, a rude awakening to the shiteness of his ways, and, oh yeah, monsters and fighting for his life since he was 16.

The movie doesn't really set the mood for making out, even for two chronically horny boys in their early twenties, so they just watch it bundled up under the blanket, pressed together in a way that could almost be called cuddling.

They never really put a name to what they do every Thursday night, but cuddling before their clothes come off is new. It turns Eddie's chest into a garden of perilous hope, like cherry blossoms unfurling in response to the warming embrace of the spring sun. It makes it hard for him to concentrate on the movie, and he's glad that he's read the book several times, so Steve doesn't notice anything off when he asks Eddie about his opinion of the movie.

Eddie really needs to get a handle on this whole thing. He has fallen in love with the boy who casually rocks his world every Thursday, only to be the best friend Eddie has ever had the rest of the time.

It's neither smart nor safe.

It will most likely end in heartbreak.

As the credits roll, Steve stretches lazily like a big cat in the sun, pressing his body even closer to Eddie's. The sensation of hard muscle and soft flesh so close makes his hands itch with the urge to touch, and Eddie feels the burning hunger inside him, dormant during the movie, awaken.

One look into Steve's eyes tells Eddie he's not alone.

They don't need words when Steve gets up from the couch and holds out his hand, waiting for Eddie to take it. When he does, Steve pulls him to his feet and takes him in his arms, their faces suddenly inches apart.

"Hi," Steve says, brushing his nose against Eddie's, making Eddie's stomach flutter.

"Hi," he whispers back, embarrassingly short of breath. Steve has that effect on him, and he wonders absently if he should quit smoking before Steve sends him to an early grave just by being Steve.

It's his last thought before Steve leans in to capture Eddie's lips in a soft kiss. It's almost chaste, the way Steve explores Eddie's lips with his own until Eddie opens his mouth, silently begging Steve to claim him, to turn this kiss into something hungry.

Steve has never denied Eddie anything, and he's not about to start now.

Wandering hands search for heated skin, clothes discarded all over the living room floor as collateral damage from the wildfire Eddie has willfully ignited.

His hands work on the button of Steve's jeans as Steve gently pulls away from their kiss, forcing Eddie to lean back and look at him as well. It's a sight to behold and Eddie admires how disheveled Steve looks. He preens at the sight of Steve's perfect hair a mess, his lips shiny with spit, his eyes glassy and his cheeks pink.

Eddie did this.

"Go and wait for me on your bed. I'll be there in a minute." Steve tells him. Orders him, really. They haven't talked about it, but they both know that some days Eddie wants to be told what to do. He wants the chance to be good, but more than that, he wants to be able to just let go of the weight of responsibility that has been on his shoulders since he was a kid, when he had to learn to take care of himself because his father clearly wouldn't, and put it in Steve's strong hands.

Eddie trusts Steve to take care of him.

"Okay," Eddie agrees, stealing another quick kiss and earning a smack on his ass.

"Brat," Steve says with a smile before getting serious again. "I want you to be naked by the time I get to the bedroom."

Eddie swallows hard and nods before turning around to do as he's told.

When Steve enters the room a few minutes later, Eddie is on his back on the bed, naked and painfully hard.

"Look at you," Steve says, and the awe in his voice makes Eddie squirm. He turns his head, needs to see the look of lust that he knows will be on Steve's face, and takes it in, greedily. Steve has stripped off the rest of his clothes as well and Eddie's mouth waters at the sight of his heavy cock swaying slightly from side to side as Steve walks toward him.

The bed sinks under Steve's weight, his shitty mattress on the soft side, causing Eddie to roll slightly toward him. Steve reaches out to steady him and his hand feels shockingly cold against Eddie's heated skin.

"What the fuck?" he exclaims, the heady feeling of seconds ago gone as he leaps back from the freezing touch.

Chuckling slightly, Steve apologizes, "Sorry, I didn't think -"

"Didn't think? Why are your hands so cold, Stevie? Are you a ghost?" Eddie asks, only half-joking, blurting out the first thought that comes to mind.

"What? No! I'm not a ghost, you idiot. I just brought something for us to play with."

Surprised by these words, Eddie pulls his eyes away from Steve's face and looks around, searching for whatever Steve brought. It must be in the hand Steve has strategically placed behind his back, and Eddie knows what he has to do to get it.

"Show me? Please?" he begs, his eyes widening even more and his lower lip sticking out just a little. It teeters on the edge of being too much, but for some unknown reason it works like a charm with Steve.

His eyes soften even as he playfully nudges Eddie's shoulder. "Get rid of those puppy dog eyes, man. I'm not falling for them," he insists as he moves to show Eddie what's in his other hand.

It's the fucking ice cream tube.

Eddie groans at the sight and tries to sit up and get away, but Steve is faster. Before Eddie knows what's happening, Steve has straddled his hips and is practically sitting in Eddie's naked lap with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Nuh-uh, we have a bet and I intend to win it."

Huffing, Eddie rolls his eyes. "You can't order me to like it."

"No, and I don't have to. You'll be begging me for more soon enough," Steve replies and Eddie wonders if they're still talking about the goddamn ice cream.

He's not sure he wants to know.

"And how are you going to do that?" Eddie asks as he puts his hands on Steve's hips to keep him on top of him. He may not like the taste of mint chocolate chip, but he sure likes the weight of Steve in his lap.

Instead of answering, Steve takes the spoon he's also holding in his big hands and plunges it into the ice cream before taking a spoonful of it into his mouth. It's already on the creamy side and the sight of it on Steve's tongue is surprisingly hot.

Even more so when Steve squeezes Eddie's jaw between his fingers until Eddie opens, then leans in and practically shotguns the ice cream into Eddie's mouth.

Before Eddie can react, Steve's tongue follows, sliding the cream back and forth between them until it's gone, their cold mouths heating up quickly as the last of the taste fades.

"Good?" Steve asks, and Eddie is so far gone that he almost, almost agrees. He catches himself just in time and clicks his tongue.

"Nice try, Stevie."

Steve just hums and does it again. Puts a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth to share with Eddie. When it's gone this time, he doesn't even ask if it's good, just dips the spoon into the tub to get another.

By the time they share the fifth spoon, Eddie begins to believe that Steve has never tasted like anything but mint chocolate chip, and he doubts that he'll ever kiss him again without searching for that taste in his mouth.

So when Steve starts to pull away from their kiss, Eddie blindly follows. He sits up and wraps his arms around Steve so that he couldn't get away from Eddie if he tried.

"Good?" Steve asks again, but this time Eddie is prepared.

"Uh-uh," he says, shaking his head before fastening his mouth to Steve's neck.

Above him, Steve giggles and it's such an endearing sound that Eddie can't help but smile against the spit-slick skin beneath his mouth.

He's in no way prepared when Steve grabs his hair close to his scalp and pulls his head back. Before Eddie can ask what's wrong, suddenly afraid he's done something wrong, Steve demands, "Stay still."

He lets go of Eddie's hair and when Eddie does as he's told, he's rewarded with a quick kiss on the forehead and a gentle, "Good boy."

Then Steve takes another spoonful of ice cream, the frozen dessert well on its way to melting, and dribbles it down his neck and chest. Some of it gets caught in his chest hair, and when a drop lands on his nipple, Steve inhales sharply.

Between them, Eddie's cock twitches.

"Come on, puppy. Lick it up, be a good boy for me," Steve purrs, and fuck, Eddie has no idea where this is coming from, but judging by the way his dick is so fucking wet that it keeps dripping onto Steve's hairy thighs where they bracket his, he's really, really into it.

And judging by the sounds coming out of Steve's mouth as Eddie licks and nips all over Steve's skin, so is he.

Eddie alternates between broad strokes with his tongue and sucking motions with his mouth, adding a bit of teeth as he scrapes the remaining sweetness from between the coarse hairs between Steve's pecs.

When it's all gone and Steve's skin is glistening with Eddie's spit, they kiss again because this is Steve's favorite ice cream and Eddie has to share the taste with him.

He gets lost in the smooth glide of their tongues and when Steve moans "fuck" into his mouth, he thinks it's just because of how hot everything is. But when Steve pushes him away with a firm hand on his shoulder and grabs his chin to direct his gaze down, Eddie realizes what caused that particular sound.

There's half-melted ice cream all over Steve's beautiful cock, running down the veiny flesh and onto his heavy balls. Someone whimpers and Eddie fears it's him.

A gentle hand on his cheek pulls him out of his reverie and he lets himself be moved, his head slowly lowering as his back bends until his lips close around the head of Steve's hard cock.

"So good, baby, so hot, lick it all off, yeah?" Steve babbles and Eddie hums in approval. He's going to be good, he's going to lick it all off Steve and then share the taste with him again.

That's what he does, his tongue swirling around the head before he lowers himself even further onto Steve, lips and tongue eagerly scooping up the sweet cream. The coldness of the cream only adds to the hotness of it all, the contrast of the soft, cold cream against Steve's hard, hot flesh slowly driving Eddie crazy. Steve is not faring any better, his moans turning to whimpers, his voice breathy and high as he continues to praise Eddie in an endless litany of filth and sweetness.

It's a surprise when Steve suddenly freezes over him, his whole body going rigid as hot cum floods Eddie's mouth. It spills from his lips before he realizes what's happening and drinks the rest down eagerly. Its taste mixes with the taste of mint chocolate chip in his mouth and Eddie knows that Steve has won the bet here and now.

He'll be begging for more as soon as Steve catches his breath, dreaming of how it will taste when he licks it out of Steve's hole and from between his cheeks.

But first he seals Steve's mouth with his own to share his new favorite taste.

[hitlikehammers]

eating fancy

rating: e ♥️ cw: domestic fluff, not-quite-but-not-not-dirty talk, playful banter, silly boys being silly asf, love is when the food is also kinda foreplay, first encounters with a crab rangoon, eddie munson's mouth makes innocent food obscene—fact ♥️ tags: established relationship, fluff, domestic fluff, slice of life, idiots in love, softness

for @steddielovemonth day nine: Love is sharing food (@sparklyslug)

you may recall a very important scene that takes place over crab rangoons for the rockstar!husbands in  je ne regrette rien; this would be their first go-round

“Ooo, we eating fancy?”

Steve rolls his eyes and plops the bags on the countertop, the grease already drawing wide circles on the paper.

“Chinese takeout?” he snorts and raises a brow Eddie’s way because oh yeah, very fancy, but he unloads the bags and padded them to Eddie to open up so they can grab from them, they’ve learned it’s easier to just eat out of the containers and pass them back and forth, but then he’s folding the bag up and he catches his beloved fucking boyfriend—

With all of the little white boxes arranged, and very clearly not opened, but almost making…a snake or something. Maybe a path?

“I like the little cartons,” Eddie comments brightly, with that innocent sort of grin of his that goes and melts in Steve’s chest and drips like honey over his ribs, draped molten, every goddamn time: “they’re like mini houses, you could build a city,” then his head snaps up, eyes wide and glinting, molten just the same his lips part and his grin because something bigger, fuller, taking up more dimensions at a time:

“Oh, fuck, I could,” and he’s moving the boxes around quick, and Steve knows him well, can tell when he’s devising a plan and his hands fly manic to excuse the vision: “a whole new campaign, I could map it out with—“

“How about one,” Steve catches Eddie’s palm on top of the cashew chicken; “you finish the campaign you havefirst,” and Eddie tries those eyes at him, the pleading edge of them almost widened to their fullest advantage but Steve’s developing some degree of tolerance, now, and can at least tip his head just so to indicate that he doesn’t intend to budge—it works, on Eddie and himself, about thirty-percent of the time; and this is one of those third-of-the-time occasions, because Eddie pouts his lower lip and pulls a hand back from building his kingdom or whatever, which means Steve can give a little in return, because that’s what they are, they’re give-and-take almost relentlessly. They’re a fucking team, and a damn good one at that.

“And two,” Steve takes it upon himself to start untucking the tops of the cartons and sticking forks in; “we order, like, just a bunch of white rice for that, so your little buildings aren’t full of fucking grease.”

Eddie brightens up for that, excitement hitting first before he looks at Steve and softens in a breath, looks so fucking huggable, kissable, touchable—

No. Not yet: they have dinner. Maybe not fancy, but Steve would like at least the first round eating what he bought to be warm-ish before it goes the way of leftovers-straight-from-the-fridge.

“So smart, baby,” Eddie croons, and Steve bites his lip over a grin, and yeah, maybe his pulse still flutters a little when Eddie’s voice hits that pitch, or when he says that kinda shit, and means it—Steve not gonna pretend otherwise, or fucking apologize for it.

He’s down to the little bags of eggs rolls and almond cookies, the shitty and really-unnecessary-but-they-come-with-so-they-have-to-try chopsticks, and oh, yes.

He grabs one of these babies out of the little crinkly bag with the bleeding ink and pops it straight into his mouth in one peace, champing it gleefully before smiling at Eddie, who’s grabbed his set of stick and is poking at the bag carefully, almost warily, like something’s gonna bite him.

“What the fuck is that,” Eddie’s eyes dart between Steve’s mouth and the still-half-ensconced wanton-y things in the bag.

“Hrah hanhoo,” Steve tries to talk around his food but it’s a lost cause: he did eat the whole thing in one go.

Fucking worth it though, and Eddie just stares until he swallows, then stares while he swallows, follows the motion down his throat and Steve can clock how his pupils dilate for it; never fails to give him a rush as he clears his throat and breaks his pair of chopsticks apart to scissor them clumsily against the point of another piece:

“Crab Rangoon,” Steve says simply, but Eddie’s eyes just…kinda get wider?

“So is it crab, or,” he asks, very carefully, measured and hesitant: “or is it raccoon?”

Steve’s lucky he didn’t put another one in his mouth yet for the way he goddamn snorts.

“Rangoon,” he tries not to laugh too hard; “crab and cream cheese in a little fried,” he gestures to the pointy crispy could-be-a-ninja-weapon-if-ninja-weapons-were-delicious.

Wait, could ninja weapons be tasty?

“Aww, it’s kinda little a star,” Eddie’s saying as he lifts one out from where he skewered it straight through with one of his chopsticks, which Steve was about…ninety-eight percent sure wasn’t the right way to use them, like, at all.

“And the crab is,” Eddie takes his other chopstick and pokes at the top where it’s all gathered in together and crisped: “oh, a little pouch that’s all,” he moves his head around to study it from all side; “puckered up, and kinda red,” and oh, his tone hasn’t changed but Steve knows this man; “also kinda,” and yep, the tone stays perfectly even but he gives himself away in the way he licks his lips:

“Kinda milky—”

“Stop,” Steve cuts him off, and for good measure he knocks Eddie’s clinical examination of the food out of they way to inexpertly-but-at-least-there’s-no-stabbery-involved lift the wanton up and shove it at Eddie’s lips until he bites half, and shuts up so Steve can make plain his term:

“Not in front of the food,” he declares, and then drops the other half on his tongue because fuck, they’re good.

“You don’t even know which end I was referring to,” Eddie whines a little once he’s chewed through his half.

“Honestly, either fucking pucker is not what I am focused on right now,” Steve nails him with a stare—not a glare, it’s not angry, it’s just pointed—as he goes to finally fucking open the rest of the cartons and start goddamn eating dinner.

“Hmm,” Eddie pouts, and yes, Steve is very much aware he’s displaying one end’s pucker for a fucking reason like the petulant dickhead he is: “that’s a pity.”

“It’s gonna get cold,” Steve volleys back easily because it’s not like this is new. It’s not like he doesn’t know the rules of engagement here, the terms of the game.

It’s not like he’s not head-over-heels in love with this jackass, or anything.

“Fair,” Eddie concedes, and it’s….it’s too easy.

Steve lets himself give into the pepper beef but…he’s careful. He doesn’t take his bites too big, lest he choke on whatever Eddie’s cooking up.

And right on goddamn cue:

“Are you rimming the rangoon?”

“No,” Eddie says as he slowly slurps his tongue back between his teeth to look at Steve dead in the eyes before diving back in:

“I’m making sure,” and he licks; “I get all,” and he swirls that tongue, the fucker, he’s unhinged; “the creamout,” and Eddie may only just make it without grinning as wide as it’s very clear he wants to, but his eyes.

Always: his eyes give him away.

“You’re absurd,” Steve huffs evenly and very much does not shift a single inch for the weight starting to strain at his jeans.

“Just making sure you have a full understand on what you might be missing,” Eddie notes blithely, as he pulls gently at the points of the wanton wrapping and stretches the pouch out for Steve to see and…Chinese takeout should be this obscene. It really shouldn’t. It wasn’t built for this.

And yet here’s Eddie Munson, everyone: so of course it was going to be making its pornographic debut in that sinful fucking mouth, Jesus Christ.

“We fucked on this table like, two nights ago,” Steve points out, almost incredulous but he can’t even pretend to be because this is Eddie, so: this not wholly unprecedented beahavior: “I’m gonna fuck you when we go to bed in a couple hours,” he adds meaningfully, because it’s also fucking relevant; “I am not missing anything.”

Eddie dips his chin and eyes Steve shrewdly, almost pityingly, god.

God.

“You’re missing me licking you like a crab raccoon right this moment, though,” Eddie counters with something like dismay, or, or, like lament in his tone. “This singular sliver of time,” he sighs, and shakes his head: “and you’re sitting there with your lo mien.”

In fairness: it is Eddie’s lo mien. They share all the cartons but Eddie is the one who orders the lo mien, who brought that into the order that’s become their regular; theirs.

But that’s just technicalities.

“It’s delicious lo mien,” Steve sniffs, juts out his chin and sticks his nose in the air a little before he gives up the chopsticks to spin the noodles round-and-round dizzy on the fork.

“Not compared to me,” Eddie tacks on, leans in almost touching just as Steve lifts the fork to his lips. He pauses.

“I do not compare my boyfriend to food,” directly, or like, out loud; “just because two things are edible doesn’t make them,” he licks his lips to finds the right word: “equatable,” yeah, that sounds right enough.

Eddie snorts in disbelief, shakes his head:

“Says you.”

But then he’s turning to stab a stick in the crinkly bag again, and Steve grins before he impales another crab-pucker—oh Jesus, shit, he’s gonna equate those now, isn’t he, that connection’s stuck in his brain forever, holy fuck.

“They’re good though, right?” Steve asks as he comes to terms with this new horrifying association he’ll never be able to escape.

“Fucking delicious,” Eddie admits, grin curling so his dimples pop and he glows: “let’s definitely get more than one bag next time. I, umm,” he Pickens a little before he flicks his eyes up to Steve just shy of apologetic; “I maybe ate more than my half of them?”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, swirls some more lo mien on his fork before he replies:

“Don’t sorry, babe,” he gestures with his noodly-utensil; “I’ll have my share of red-milky puckers later on.”

And Eddie chokes a little, and fucking good: Steve damn well better not be the only one stuck with the consequences of that fucking image in his head.

The bad ones…

And of course also the good ones.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

divider credit here

[lady-lostmind]

Bites

Love is: Sharing food.

a @steddielovemonth prompt Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 513 | CW: eating disorder | Rating: M

ao3 link

Eddie watches Steve pick at his plate from across the room. He hasn’t taken a single bite yet, and he’s been having nightmares again. Always does this time of year. They all do, when their inevitable anniversary rolls around. Steve’s tough month tends to be July. It’s technically the anniversary of his third go around. But Eddie thinks something about the time he spent being tortured and drugged, thinking he dragged his new best friend to her death, really made that one stand out. 

It always starts the same. The nightmares and sleepless nights, Eddie trying desperately to get Steve to talk to him about it. To let it out instead of letting it build up. And Steve, never wanting to bother him. Hating that he woke him up, like Eddie would ever care about something like that.

Steve doesn’t like being taken care of. He fights it, constantly. Wants to do things for everyone else. Doesn’t want to acknowledge he needs help, too. That he went through all of it, too. That he was just a fucking kid, too. All things Eddie has tried, countless times, to remind him of when he’s mad at himself for waking up in tears. 

It’s been a while since this aspect has raised its ugly head, though. Where Steve withdraws into himself so much that old habits return. Eddie always knows it’s bad when he stops eating. When the food on his plate just gets nudged around and he can see the disgust on Steve’s face every time he manages a bite. Eddie hates it when it gets this bad. Hates seeing Steve struggle so much. Hates that he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, again. 

Eddie sighs, and loads up his own plate in the kitchen before making his way over to the table and squeezing himself on Steve’s chair between him and Robin. Robin gives him a sad smile and he knows she’s noticed too. 

Eddie presses a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Hey, baby.”

Steve rolls his eyes and smirks, but it doesn’t hit his eyes. “There are other chairs, you know?”

Eddie scoffs. “I have the best seat in the house, right here.” 

He grabs a forkful of mashed potatoes and pops it in his mouth with a little groan. “Oh, these turned out good this time. Did you get some?”

He knows they’re one of Steve’s safe foods when he’s like this. No meat. Nothing…fleshy. 

Steve shrugs, pushing a piece of chicken around on his plate. It’s touching his potatoes. 

Eddie scoops up some more potatoes from his plate that has no meat on it at all, and holds it out to Steve in offering. Steve sighs, probably realizing that Eddie has clocked what’s going on with him, and takes a bite off Eddie’s fork. 

Eddie grins, and takes another bite himself, turning his attention to Robin, asking her about work before offering Steve another bite. They don’t acknowledge it. They don’t bring any attention to it. Eddie just shares his plate with Steve, happy he got something in his stomach. 

[stillhaventgotmydriverslicense]

love is stored in the mid biryani we ate at the cheap knock off of marine drive 5 mins from my house 2 days before your exams

[relaxxattack]

tbfh i love when people will headcanon characters as being of their culture and then draw little comics of them participating in traditions that the artist is clearly intimately familiar with. like YESSS share your personal cultural experiences with me through the blorbos!!! i love to see it!!!!!!!

[bytebun]

my piece for @thecodywanzine! thanks to the mods who let me go completely ham and cheese on this bad boy. this one's about living longer than you ever expected and not knowing what to do with it

[nerdynuala]

Some cute doodles after the angst I've been spamming here

[t00thpasteface]

i got moves!

[yashley]

I feel like if she's telling me so strongly to stay away from it, I don't trust her anymore.

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

Part 2. This time its the Tokyo Five (As I named them) Headcanons in the reblog tags appreciated

[betweenblackberrybranches]

RLGL AU guys waiting for the new year to arrive, watching a terrible movie and eating takeout... well more like Sun keeps begging for bites and Y/N is nice enough to share, Moon doesnt want to clean out his chest compartment so hedoesnt eat...

[last-in-line-for-hell]

Time Passes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sharing is Caring!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[jesncin]

Want some hamantashen and rugelach? My folks made so many! | How about a private interview over lunch?

[metamorphesque]

... peeling oranges this ... sharing tangerines that ... what about cutting and de-seeding pomegranates for the ones you love? the ruby stains on your fingers ... fleeting proofs of your undying devotion ...