Eddie would come up with the most elaborate schemes to kiss Steve for the first time.
here's mine: He realizes Steve is a gossip early on, like the first time they all hang out someone mentions a rumour in passing and Steve latches on. Eddie is delighted. He's enamoured by the twinkle in Steve's eyes and the intensity in his probing, even the enthusiasm in giving out the information he has about the people in question.
So Eddie knows what he has to do.
Whenever Eddie sees or hears something that frankly should not be any of his business he makes sure to tell Steve. He doesn't mention it to anybody else and most of the time he doesn't care about it much, but he needs to tell Steve.
And he only does it when it's just the two of them. He finds Steve in a secluded corner of the Family Video, says "i think my boss is cheating on his wife" and is rewarded with a gasp.
He follows after Steve when he goes to refill the popcorn in the middle of movie night and casually asks "you know who I saw the other day coming out of Laura's house at 3am?" Steve raises his eyebrows higher than Eddie has ever seen.
He calls Steve at midnight on a Wednesday and opens with "my neighbors are definitely getting back together" Steve answers with a devastated "noooo!"
He leaves the kids in the cookie aisle to go catch up to Steve and lean on the shopping cart shoulder to shoulder and whisper "dont look now, but Heather and Monica are here together, right behind us. They ARE dating" Steve looks immediately.
And Eddie's not only excited about his initial reactions, but he thanks the heavens for his discovery because it gets him Steve's total, undivided attention every.fucking.time. without fail.
Steve turns fully to him, touches Eddie's arms for emphasis, shoves him when Eddie says something dumb, tugs on a strand of his hair a bit when Eddie says something silly, opens his eyes SO wide or squints at him and his eyelashes look sooo pretty. Steve leans in and whispers back and grins and teases and scrunches his nose in the most adorable gesture Eddie has ever seen in his life.
With practice, Eddie goes from having to give Steve's shoulder a back handed slap to get his attention, to just looking at him directly for like 5 seconds and then Steve knows Eddie has something to tell him.
so he does it at dinner, on a nondescript date at a nondescript hour because, mostly, Eddie just kinda can't take it anymore.
He's listening to Steve tell this story about a costumer and frankly, forgets to look away from him and Steve interprets this as Eddie having something to say. He cuts himself off, tilts his head and asks "what?" with mirth in his voice.
Eddie smiles, a little mischievous and says "c'mere I have to tell you something"
Steve smiles back, but says "we're the only ones here, Eds" gesturing to his kitchen.
Eddie rolls his eyes a bit and threatens "do you want me to tell you or not?"
Steve leans across the table, his cut off tank almost touching their spaghetti.
Eddie wants to shove his hands through the armpit holes, but he settles for holding Steve's jaw and threading his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.
Steve's lips are as soft and warm as he expected, he tastes of the red sauce they cooked together and he smells good enough to eat. Eddie indulges in a thorough kiss but keeps it short.
No matter how many times Steve looks at him like he's the most interesting person in the room, he hasn't outright said that he likes Eddie like that, so he'd rather be careful.
Eddie pulls back and finds Steve smiling, his eyes closed still.
Steve blinks his eyes open and looks at Eddie, his tongue darts out to swipe across his lips and he says "I think that's the best one you've told me yet"
Eddie snorts and feels his cheeks burn "Yeah?" he asks.
"Mmhm" Steve confirms against his lips, already kissing Eddie again.
It takes a while, but eventually Eddie realizes Steve doesn't only give him his undivided attention when he has gossip. He does it pretty much all the time.
Maybe at some point it expanded to everything Eddie has to say.
Or maybe it was like that all along.
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“When I first heard it, from a dog trainer who knew her behavioral science, it was a stunning moment. I remember where I was standing, what block of Brooklyn’s streets. It was like holding a piece of polished obsidian in the hand, feeling its weight and irreducibility. And its fathomless blackness. Punishment is reinforcing to the punisher. Of course. It fit the science, and it also fit the hidden memories stored in a deeply buried, rusty lockbox inside me. The people who walked down the street arbitrarily compressing their dogs’ tracheas, to which the poor beasts could only submit in uncomprehending misery; the parents who slapped their crying toddlers for the crime of being tired or hungry: These were not aberrantly malevolent villains. They were not doing what they did because they thought it was right, or even because it worked very well. They were simply caught in the same feedback loop in which all behavior is made. Their spasms of delivering small torments relieved their frustration and gave the impression of momentum toward a solution. Most potently, it immediately stopped the behavior. No matter that the effect probably won’t last: the reinforcer—the silence or the cessation of the annoyance—was exquisitely timed. Now. Boy does that feel good.”
— Melissa Holbrook Pierson, The Secret History of Kindness (2015)
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