I don’t share Game of Thrones stuff often, but this pov fan art is pretty dope. Didn’t have artist credit on the page I found it, so feel free to comment with the artist if you know them so I can add the credits.
Realistically, staring at the back of Hargrove’s head wouldn’t make any sort of intelligence leak from his head into Steve’s. Still it couldn’t hurt to try.
Steve hated school more than anything else. It just sucked. He never understood anything his teachers were talking about, he was the most depressed he’d ever been and he almost got killed by a fucking alien? Monster? DND character? He almost died. Hooking up with McKinney only brought so much joy, especially since it wasn’t safe for the two of them to be an actual couple. Still, Patrick was very hot and was very good at what he did. Steve kind of missed him.
And then he did something nobody expected. He fucking graduated, then got accepted into college. It was all a bit of a blur of people hugging him and shaking his hand, even his dad who preferred to not acknowledge Steve’s existence most of the time. Still, he was out now, officially. Nothing could make college as bad as highschool.
Hargrove made college as bad as highschool.
He wasn’t a King Steve type, loudly harassing anyone he didn’t like. Well, unless it was a political disagreement. It was more how infuriatingly better he was at anyone else on campus at well, anything and everything.
He was the best at sports, athletic and fiercely competitive. Hargrove constantly got the highest grades in every class he did, by far surpassing the smartest kids at Hawkins. Everyone silently agreed that he was the hottest guy on campus, and somehow from the tales Steve had heard, the best at sex. Apparently he was a real dork on dates though. Which in Steve’s eyes, just made him even hotter.
Hargrove hated Steve with a passion. It was pretty obvious. Most of the time they spent in the same room, had Billy glaring at Steve like he wanted to set him on fire. Steve, on the other hand, wanted to crawl onto Hargrove’s lap and make out with him until the world exploded. So, they had slightly different feelings about each other.
And Steve was staring at the back of Hargrove’s perfectly permed head again, trying to seep some of his specialness into Steve’s own body. They were going to do some trip to Canada for their sociology and politics class, to analyse how global Americanisation effected world politics. Steve usually would have been pumped by this. He was abnormally good at trips, and had actually been to Canada several times as a child.
Then their professor ruined it for him, by revealing that they would be rooming together in the hotel, based on alphabetical order. Harrington and Hargrove. Shit.
He tried to distract himself on the flight there by thinking about snowboarding. It didn’t work and Steve ended up having an anxiety dream about Billy trampling his face in, riding a moose. Not that Steve’s subconscious was being stereotypical about Canada at all.
The first night wasn’t actually all that bad. After spending a good hour huffing and puffing about not being able to smoke anywhere, Hargrove pivoted to Steve and threw a pack of cards at him. They ended up playing poker together and Steve finally found something he could beat Hargrove at. Hargrove had some very obvious tells.
He got a grunted “you’re not so bad Harrington” before Hargrove rolled over and started loudly snoring. Steve rode that high until morning, when he was woken up to an insistent slapping on his face. Hargrove stood over him, grinning and holding up a fistful of money.
They didn’t end up going where their professor had recommended they go, not that Steve thought the rest of their class had followed her advice. Hargrove bought seemingly half a corner store, then dragged Steve through the woods, staring at the trees like they spoke magic. He was from California, probably more used to seeing beaches than fall leaves.
Billy glared at everyone. That’s what he told Steve, after ordering him to stop calling Billy “fucking Hargrove.” It was a defence mechanism, something he learned from growing up in his dads house. He was more cautiously intrigued by Steve, especially since Steve dressed like a rich asshole. Steve supposed that was a fair judgement. He was just happy to be friends now.
They didn’t go back to the hotel that night. Billy set up a tent in the middle of the woods and pulled out a couple of sleeping bags. Really how much had he bought from that store. They ate slightly cold beans together, Billy lost to Steve at poker again and fell asleep in a tent without sleeping bags.
Waking up, spooning Billy, only caused a little bit of a panic for Steve. Especially since he’d tucked his head into the crook of Billy’s neck. Had his heartbeat always been so goddamn loud?
The look Billy gave him, when he panicked out a no homo to hide his crush, seemed sad almost. Even though he couldn’t have enjoyed cuddling with Steve. There were far better people for Billy to enjoy those sorts of activities with.
The final day, Billy pitched down the tent and they ended up seeing a moose, which Steve was totally chill about. Mostly they just walked back in the direction of the hotel though, stopping off at a diner where Steve ate far, far too many French fries. Billy rolled his eyes at him while biting into his burger and it felt fond, affectionate.
He didn’t remember how, but after their now mandatory nightly game of poker, Steve ended up in Billy’s bed, rather than his own. Billy didn’t seem to mind much. In fact, he actively held Steve closer. Probably to replace some crush he had back home. Still, Steve could enjoy tonight.
He left before Billy woke up. Best to have Billy hate him then play second fiddle. Even if Billy yelling after him in the airport broke his heart a little. Carol and Robin both punched him and called him an idiot. Carol would do that regardless of what he chose though, so he didn’t feel particularly stupid.
Billy pulling him out of the hall the first day back made him feel like maybe he had fucked up. Eyes like fire, but also obviously having been crying. Then he punched Steve in the shoulder, hard. And kissed him.
Billy glared at his crushes, apparently. Though Carol told him that he was an oblivious fuck. Steve didn’t really care. He had Billy now.
And he paid for the first ten dates, just to make up for it. Billy was worth it. Even if Steve was an anxiety ridden dick.
They went on a trip on the one year anniversary. Mexico wasn’t exactly a country for camping but they got to book a room with one king sized bed.
Steve definitely has the most stereotypical view about other countries- I know this even though I love him. Also I used to think that all people from the US were Canadian until I was about nine years old. Thank my aunt for having pretty much exclusively Canadian friends lmao
Jim is pretty sure that he’s not qualified for whatever this.
He is a father though, once again - rather unexpectedly. Maybe it’s that what makes him drag Billy Hargrove’s ass from behind the Camaro’s wheel when he’s obviously wasted as fuck or it’s too cold to sleep at the quarry. Because while the Hargrove kid doesn’t admit it, Hopper has seen the ratty blanket and the fucking school books on the backseat.
“Hargrove,” he grunts and can almost hear Joyce telling him that using his last name probably isn’t helping.
“Billy,” he corrects himself. “Do you need a place to stay?”
“I live at Cherry Lane. You know that.” Billy chips a bit of black nail polish off his fingernails. “I’m not some hobo.”
“Chief,” he adds after a heartbeat, shooting Jim a calculating glance like he’s trying to make a run for it. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.
“That’s not what I’m asking,” Jim grunts. He knows his tone is too rough, so he shoves a cup of watery hot chocolate towards Billy.
He wishes he had more patience, but he’s just so angry. At himself, mostly and at Billy’s dad. Because at first, he bought the whole “Billy needs a firm hand” act. He fucking fell for it. He drove Billy home several times and Neil Hargrove promised to take care of it. He gave a disapproving head shake towards Billy and gave Jim a long speech about America’s youth and their queer antics and lack of manners. He has no prove, because Billy doesn’t talk, it’s just a hunch, but that kid needs help.
“I can stay at Harrington’s,” Billy mumbles. “When it gets too bad.”
He takes the cup and gulps the chocolate down. Jim wonders if he’s hungry, nervous or thirsty. Or all of it.
“Then why did I have to pick you up at the quarry again?”
“You don’t have to do shit,” Billy sneers. He sits up, hand crushing the paper cup. “I didn’t fucking ask you to.”
“Of course I have to,” Jim barks. Billy has the talent to rile him up with ease. It’s like he wants Jim to explode. “Every goddamn night I wonder if you’re the next dead kid they’ll find at the lake and I don’t want to let this happen.”
“I don’t get you,” Billy shouts back. “I don’t get you … or Steve .. What do you want? Why are you being so fucking nice? Why does he even like me?”
Jim blinks. Why should he know anything about Steve Harrington?
“Are you sleeping outside…” he asks slowly. “…because Harrington likes you and you don’t know how to deal with that?”
Billy rubs the bridge of his nose. His voice grows smaller with each word. “He always… wants to talk and to cuddle and shit.”
“Cuddle? That’s sounds fucking qu-”
Billy flinches, eyes wide, like a rabbit about to bolt.
Hopper’s mouth snaps shut. In his mind Joyce is already berating him softly to choose his words wisely.
“Do you want to cuddle with Harrington?” he asks. God, police school didn’t brace him for whatever the fuck is happening right now.
“What?” Billy croaks. He looks as confused as Jim feels.
“Jesus,” Jim sighs. “Let’s go.”
“What?” Billy repeats like a broken record.
“I’ll drive you to Harrington’s.” Jim clears his throat. “So that you can… cuddle.” He finishes lamely.
“What?” Billy seems to have forgotten any other words.
Hopper gets up. “Let’s go.”
He has no idea what he’s doing. Maybe Steve and him can work together to make sure Billy is kinda safe.
the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.
it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. “what if were to get in there and take some celebrity’s name for a user name? like paris hilton or something.”
then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. “dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that…”
then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. “yeah, it’d be funnier if it was eddie’s pop prince loverboy instead.”
that got everyone’s attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn’t want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.
“loverboy?! you know i can’t stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that…”
but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.
’steveharrington’, eddie’s account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.
if it hadn’t been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn’t been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of ’oh steve’ in the background. if it hadn’t been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.
if it hadn’t been for all of that he wouldn’t have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.
I need more famous musician Eddie content where he’s still super fucking lame and freaks out around other musicians
Like, I’m thinking about the video of JQ getting to meet with Metallica and play with them and Hetfield asks if he wants them to sign the guitar and Joseph gets so excited about it.
Eddie at an after party or something and he left Steve (and Robin because she refused to not be invited if Steve was coming (he gave her a “job” just so she could come)) to go get them some drinks and when he comes back Steve is talking to Brian May like he’s just a normal guy. Steve had been talking to Robin about Dustin getting an internship at NASA and Brian May inserted himself so he could ask about Dustin’s job.
Eddie comes over, nearly vibrating, and Steve introduces him to “Brian, he’s an astrophysicist!” and Eddie nearly passes out when he shakes his hand as if this isn’t a member of Queen.
It becomes a theme for them at events where Steve makes conversation with these world famous musicians about real life things all while Eddie is trying to act like a normal person standing in front of James fucking Hetfield.
The eventually develop a way for Eddie to subtly signal to Steve that this is one of his heroes so that Steve can steer the conversation to music and give Eddie an in.
I just need more social butterfly Steve and his music nerd boyfriend Eddie who panics whenever Steve befriends a famous person.
vaguely inspired by a fic I read like a month ago but nepo baby Steve who starts as a young model slowly transitioning into acting. self-made rockstar Eddie who by some miracle made it mainstream and is now the biggest artist of the year. Steve starring in a film by indie darling director Robin, she already has an Oscar nom under her belt, the there’s tons of buzz around the production of the film because it’s a queer drama. cue Eddie who has zero media training randomly trashing Steve on twitter like “these nepo babies who get roles because mommy is the producer and not because of their talent, i hate straight people.” his stans start harassing and stalking Steve, creating that “only gay people should play gay roles” discourse to the point where he gets outed. steve getting so fed up he just quote-tweets eddie with “shut up or i’ll release our sex tape <3”. he’s kidding of course, but the fans don’t know that. what comes next is months of relentless fans shipping them together and eddie is absolutely HATING it, the last thing he wanted was to be famous for a controversy and not his own talent, but he can’t really deny anything without facing backlash and also he started it and he kinda respects steve’s witty response. steve subtly playing it up by liking eddie’s posts on instagram and vague-posting with lyrics from his songs. the internet is convinced they’re in a months-long relationship and they haven’t even met in person.
They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.
He sees Eddie sometimes.
Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.
Now he looks bloodthirsty.
Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.
Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.
They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.
Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.
They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.
Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.
Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.
Really fucking weird.
The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.
“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.
We have totally totally never talked about this before but I’m gonna bring it to your asks
Big (dilf? Kind of? Maybe) dom Billy who’s just like the most experienced kinkster ever but refuses to wear clothes that aren’t knitted and has the strongest prescription glasses and refuses to get a phone more modern than the brick
Then Steve who’s like hyper modern party animal and is immediately like “I want him” the moment they meet but keeps trying to drop thirst traps on tiktok and obviously Billy doesn’t even know what tiktok is
Oh I do like it. But I think I’m gonna add… Doctor Hargrove and Nurse Harrington into the equation.
Heather was always trying to show him her phone. He didn’t necessarily see the appeal, but it was easy enough to just sit through whatever inane video she wanted him to watch. He was tired from a twelve hour shift might as well just let it happen.
Today he was really annoyed because his new t-shirt had a tag and he’d cut it out but he could still feel the scratching even though he’d taken it off hours ago.
“Can it wait until later?” Billy sighed, closing his eyes and resting against the back of her couch.
“No, it cannot wait until later,” She tossed her hair to the side, “It’s you, Billy.”
“Me?” Billy shook his head without even consciously thinking of it, “Like when I texted you to pick up that lube I like?”
“No, and I’m not doing that by the way,” Heather’s perfectly painted lips quirked up into a smile, “No, it’s a video of you.”
“Someone took a video of me? What? Is that legal?” Billy leapt for her phone, grunting when she pulled back quickly and he flopped to the couch.
“It was at that grocery store you go to by the hospital that has terrible produce, not like, in your bathroom,” She shook her head.
He sighed, “Okay fine.”
He fully expects to see some video of him doing something clumsy, but instead it’s just him, at a far distance. He’s wearing the scrubs he wore on Monday, with the Scotty dogs, and he’s still got his stethoscope on, yawning in the bread aisle. The video doesn’t show his face, but it’s unmistakably Billy, down to his old school digital watch.
A cheery robot voice says, “When you see your work crush outside of work.” The video then cuts to a darkened car dashboard.
“I don’t even know if I got groceries. I blacked out,” A man’s voice says with a laugh.
Billy frowns, “What is this?”
“It’s tiktok, Billy,” She swipes up and it cuts to one of Heather’s favorite astrology videos, that she’s showed him before.
“Wait, go back to the guy,” He asks, grabbing for her phone.
She rolls her eyes, “Okay fine. Like you don’t get enough ego boosts at the club with everyone begging you to be their dom.”
“This is different. This is, actually me,” Billy reaches out but she navigates back to the first video, tapping until another video fills her screen.
“What people think you do as a male nurse,” the same cheery robot lady’s voice says. A beautiful man fills the screen, wearing scrub bottoms and a silly costume nurse’s hat.
“I’m here to take your temperature,” The man bends close to the camera, brown eyes sparkling as he shamelessly angles his hairy chest towards Billy.
“Oh no,” The man puts his hands to his cheek, “It seems you have sexy sex disease. I guess I’d better…”
He turns, arching his back just a little and Billy’s mouth goes dry. beauty marks are scattered across his toned back, and he looks back coyly over his shoulder. The video cuts off.
“What I actually do as a male nurse,” The robot voice says. It cuts to the same guy, his pretty fluffy hair a mess under a thick headband. He’s got glasses on, and ugly, the Grinch themed scrubs.
“And you say it got stuck up there by accident?” He purses his pretty pink lips and writes something on a clipboard, “Okay, sure.”
Billy laughs, “Heather, how do I get to this on my phone.”
“Oh my god,” She rolls her eyes, “Spare me from the Nokia.”
“Well, then, what… how do I see the other videos?”
Heather complains, but as she sets him up on his ancient laptop. He has a tiktok account now, that only follows one thing, NurseStevie.
Heather watches a few more with him and then laughs, “I gotta go meet Barb for dinner. But I’ll give you a hint. He works in pediatrics.”
So I was hoping to get some more Return of the King or Somebody to Love out but these antibiotics are burning a hole through my stomach so I needed something incredibly self indulgent for my own comfort.
Some warnings up front: this is a reincarnation AU so there will be character death. But they do come back, I promise. Apparently my comfort involves a fuckton of angst and devastation so there’s that too 🤷♀️ but I make it better, I promise. This is a heavy one guys, so take care of yourselves.
AO3 Link(will be here when she comes home from war)
Steve kept his voice low and soft.
Comforting.
Respectful.
He gently gestured the small group of mourners through to the viewing room, content to stand like a sentry in the back, there if they needed him but invisible otherwise in his plain black suit and glasses with his hands folded in front of him after double, triple checking his phone was on silent.
Death was an old friend to him now, though it had taken him a very, very long time to see it that way. Maybe that’s why he’d chosen the profession he had. Becoming a mortician wasn’t something many people actively worked towards since their teen years, unless they were already in the family but it just felt right to Steve.
He hadn’t been taken seriously at the start. He was young. Very young to be in this line of work. Currently in his early thirties and still fifteen years the junior of most funeral directors in the country.
But he was good at what he did. How could he not be? He’d seen more death than any other human alive.
He’d spent so long trying to fight death and losing every time that death no longer felt unsettling to him anymore. It was a fact of life.
Unavoidable.
So he made it his business to ease the crossing from one life to the other, for both the living and the dead and they tried to meet the needs of as many religions, as many traditions, as many practices as they could, both new and old.
They’d spearheaded more eco-friendly and green practices and with the recent rise of neo-paganism and wicca and worship of the Old Gods, they tried to be as accommodating as possible.
If the Steve from all that time ago, still on his first go around and organising the single most devastating funeral he’d ever experienced, could see him now, the Steve whose hands shook as he washed and anointed him with oils, the Steve who was so consumed by despair and fury as he placed the coin in his mouth with one last kiss…
He was pretty sure that Steve of old would have been enraged at his calm acceptance of death in any form.
But this Steve had grown. After all this time. Maybe it had taken him too long. Maybe he hadn’t grown in time, hadn’t grown quick enough to break it.
His Curse, he had taken to calling it.
But that had been when he was a broken and angry man. Now he saw that it had been less of a Curse and more of an Opportunity.
But it had taken him so long to pull himself from his spiral of devastation and anger and as a result he’d squandered that Opportunity.
It had been too late by the time he’d let any humility in.
So this was it now. This was his life and though he’d never be truly happy again, not without him… he was calm.
He was as centred as he could be.
He’d accepted his Fate.
Steve glanced up at the sound of a woman’s sob, ready to step forward if he needed to. The woman, Marion, he remembered, ended up being soothed softly by her sons, Jeremy and Killian. Their fathers death hadn’t been sudden, Walter had been sick for a while but that didn’t make it any less devastating for the three. They’d be okay. They were strong together, Steve thought, loving. Funerals were often make or break for families but these three at least, would pull through.
Steve loved what he did, strange as it was. He loved being able to bring comfort to the living during their hardest times. Helping them to say goodbye and hopefully get some closure.
Closure that he himself had rarely had.
Having that person one day then… they’re gone the next.
He wanted to bring that closure to people.
The room was exploding in flowers, both as a show of love from the deceased’s family and a kindness from Crossroads Funeral Home, to try to cover up the smell of Robin’s embalming work and to quietly bring some beauty to the room.
Robin.
Pretty much the only good thing that had come from that previous Life.
She’d followed him to this one after they had both died, side by side, dragging Vecna/Henry/One back into the Rainbow Room with the last of their energy and locking everyone else outside before the explosion could go off on the cold night of New Years 1987.
She didn’t know it, of course, no one did. No one ever remembered except for Steve. But she knew there was something between them. Some strange string of Fate that connected them. He didn’t know how he’d survived so long without her.
She’d told him once that he looked old. He’d snorted and pushed her away, sitting on that dirty bathroom floor in their comical sailors costumes but she just shook her head.
I meant, like, you don’t look old. It’s your eyes Steve. They're… they’re ancient. Like this isn’t your first go around, you know?
He did know. God, did he know. He’d been in a cycle of life and death, life and death, on and on for over two and a half thousand years.
Every nerd in Steve’s life had their mythical creature niche.
Robin loved pixies. Channelling their mischievous energy into her everyday life, bouncing around the store while they were on shift, even joking she’d get a pixie cut one day.
Nancy, though she would deny it to anyone outside their circle, loved fairies. Soft but calculating, intelligent and beautiful, when they had visited the ren faire the year prior her cheeks matched her glittery wings.
Dustin loved hobbits and Steve loved to affectionately call him one even as the boy grew just as tall as him, the excitement that crossed his face when Steve agreed to watch the movies with him made the confusing deep lore worth it.
Lucas loved ents. Steve would often find him in the woods just listening to the trees, he was the only one of them that would still brave the forest at night, the trees would keep him safe.
Max loved harpies. If Steve were to give any proof that these creatures existed, he’d just tell you to look at Max’s face when some boy told her girls can’t skate.
Will loved merfolk. When they visited the beach last summer Steve could see the years of stress melt away from the young boy’s face as he listened to the waves, the water washing away the memories.
El loved elves. She loved the many forms they came in from fantasy to Christmas, that they could be fun or loud or quiet or brave, that they could be whatever they wanted to pointy ears just made them a little special.
Mike loved griffins. He knew that being both just made you stronger, that you can be strong and brave and protect the things you love, that being different doesn’t make you less whole.
Erica loved unicorns. She would hit you if she heard you saying they were anything less than metal.
Which of course leads us to Steve’s favourite nerd, Eddie.
Eddie loved dragons.
The first thing he did once his scars had healed enough was to get a beautiful dragon tattoo across them, the rough skin almost like scales through the dragon’s back.
One of his most prized possessions is a massive red dragon figure for his campaigns.
Steve thinks he’s seen the How to Train Your Dragon movies more than every seven-year-old in the world because it’s the only things that make Eddie feel better when he has nightmares. He has seen them so many times that he can recite his own favourite scene by heart.
They’re in the small clearing in the woods behind their house, it’s spring, the afternoon is warm and the wind is calming. The sun is setting, they are sharing a small picnic, it’s perfect. The sun is bathing them in a golden light, Steve thinks Eddie would be beautiful even if the world was pitch black.
It’s time.
He whistles out the first few notes.
“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.”
Eddie has turned to Steve recognising the song, his eyes are as bright as the love between them.
“No scorching sun, nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey.”
Eddie’s eyes are shining, he’ll blame them on allergies.
“If you will promise me your heart, and love,” Steve looks expectantly at Eddie.
Eddie face breaks into a smile at Steve’s pause.
“And love me for eternity,” he continues, “My dearest one, my darling dear, you mighty words astound me. But I’ve no need for mighty deeds when I feel you arms around me,” Eddie sings pulling Steve to his feet as he stands.
Steve laughs as he continues, “But I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!”
“Oh would you?” Eddie giggles.
“And I would keep you from all harm, if you would stay beside me.”
“I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry; I only want you hand to hold,” Eddie sings lacing their fingers.
“I only want you near me.”
The boys begin to spin and dance to only the tune of their voices.
“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold, for the dancing and the dreaming. Through all life’s sorrows and delights, I’ll keep your laugh inside me.”
Eddie begins to spin from Steve the joy bubbling up inside him, not even noticing Steve’s voice has gotten softer.
“I’ll swim and sail a savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life if-” the last words catching in his throat as he looks at Steve, down on one knee.
“If you will marry me.” Steve finishes, a beautiful black ring in the shape of a dragon protecting a ruby in its centre laying in a black box in his hand. “For the dancing and the dreaming, Stevie, yes.”
