Exalted

Steve shook out his shoulders behind the screen, drawing in a deep breath. Okay, he thought. It’s okay, it’s Eddie, it’s fine. He rapidly shucked off his clothes and unzipped his bag, pulling out the black leggings and sliding them on. The concrete floor was chilly under his bare feet, but he absolutely refused to even think of wearing the tan socks he’d had on at work. Should have brought something else, but too late now.

He emerged from behind the screen to see Eddie crouched by the table, hanging onto the edge with one hand. “You alright?” He asked, moving closer as Eddie quickly straightened and turned around.

“Yeah, fine, just stretching something out…” Eddie’s eyes widened, and Steve could see his gaze sweep down and then back up as color spread under his skin and something dark  and burning sparked in his eyes.

Steve had never really been very vain. He’d been a cocky teenager, sure, most teenagers have either too much or too little ego, but he’d also always known that half of his appeal had been his big house and lax parental supervision. Those circumstances had all changed so abruptly that he’d never really examined his ego since - he looked fine, he got along fine, it was all fine. He knew some people were attracted to him - usually either they or Robin had to tell him - and he’d dated during college and after.

But: nobody had ever looked at him like Eddie was, and nothing had ever set a coal of exultation burning in his chest like Eddie’s eyes catching and holding his did. He could feel how cautious Eddie was being, how concerned he was to not freak Steve out, how unsure he was that he was allowed to ask Steve for this, and he appreciated that Eddie was explaining what he was doing as he went along. Part of him was distantly aware that it was interesting, in that academic sense of ‘everything unfamiliar is interesting,’ but that faint voice was nearly drowned out by the ghost of Eddie’s breath on his skin as he reached the tailor’s tape around his chest and bent to line it up carefully, the hot air stirring the dark hair Steve had no idea Eddie had been fervently wondering about, and grazing across his nipple.

By contrast, Eddie’s fingers were cold as they brushed his throat, holding the tape in place as he slid his fingers around Steve’s neck to check the line and adjust the tightness. Steve swallowed when the tape fell away and Eddie moved behind him to measure his shoulders, laying the tape carefully along the curve of his trapezius and holding one end down firmly while he eased it into alignment and smoothed its length to flatten it out. Steve could hear Eddie release a rough breath near his ear as he muttered the numbers to himself, and a faint smile pulled at the corner of his lips. 

Measuring his arms was simpler, until Eddie wrapped the tape around his bicep, removed it, did it again, and then moved to the other arm, shaking his head slightly. Steve resisted the urge to preen - and to flex. As fun as teasing Eddie could be, this was his work, and Steve was here to help. Teasing could wait, even if Steve was enjoying having the upper hand a little bit. Eddie’s loud personality had Steve trying to react to him most of the time, feeling like he was always scrambling to keep the pace, but it was clear that Eddie was the one struggling with his reactions this time.

Steve’s smugness lasted until Eddie dropped to his knees in front of him to measure his legs, and the warning about the process had in no way prepared him for the top of Eddie’s knuckles to be firmly, if as impersonally as Eddie could manage, pressed to the underside of his balls. He looked down at the top of Eddie’s head as he moved to wrap the tape around his thigh, and he could feel the slight tremor in Eddie’s fingers. 

Eddie wrote down the last numbers and sat back on his heels to look up at Steve, freezing as the light hit his face, lips parting and pupils blowing wide as he stared up at Steve for a long moment. Steve let the silence hang suspended in the air, then stretched out his hand to stroke lightly over Eddie’s jaw and slip into the long curls behind his head. “You getting up?” Steve asked quietly, and Eddie broke from his trance, following the gentle pull of Steve’s hand and scrambling to his feet, ending up almost chest to chest with Steve, who didn’t release his hold. “Is that all of the measurements?”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth, then nodded. “I wanted to try the binding,” he said, raising his free hand to trace the lines in the air between them. “But I honestly don’t know if that’s such a good idea right now.”

Steve felt a pang of disappointment. “You’re the expert,” he slackened his grip on Eddie’s nape and started to step back. 

“I’m not,” Eddie stopped him, his voice husky. “I haven’t had the faintest fucking idea what I’m doing since the first time I saw you, and I am trying so hard to not mess this up, but you can’t - you can’t - not notice what’s going on like you do with everyone else. Steve,” his voice dropped lower, barely a whisper of sound. “Please.”

Steve felt a drop of flame break loose from the coal in his chest and free fall to his stomach, smoldering in the dry tinder there. “I notice, Eddie,” he murmured. “Hey,” he slipped his arms around Eddie, who relaxed into his grasp. “I know.” Because he did. Under all the awkwardness, the dancing around, the uncertainty that crept up when they were apart and Steve remembered he was just ordinary librarian Steve, with his boring life and his big secrets: he knew. “I don’t know what I’m doing, either,” he added.

“I want to do it right,” Eddie insisted, his voice muffled by Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t want to mess this up right from the beginning and make everything come out all wrong. I’m not good at being careful, but I’m trying so hard to.”

Steve wrapped both arms around Eddie tight, and Eddie hugged him around his waist. A smile crept across Steve’s face and he suddenly gripped Eddie harder and swung them both around in circles until Eddie’s shouts of surprise and confusion dissolved into peals of laughter. Steve set him back on his feet gently, chest heaving with exertion and laughter. “Here’s what I propose,” he said, wiping his eyes. “We keep things the way they are right now until we get through your show, and then you let me take you out on the absolute best date of either of our lives. Sound good?”

Eddie’s grin lit up the room brighter than the lights. “Sounds great, Steve,” he said, then paused, his face turning mischievous. “So what’s this incredible date going to be?”

…

Robin was sitting on the couch when Steve got home, tapping into her laptop, eyes focused on her notes and no less than three pens stuck in the lop-sided topknot in her hair. She looked up without really seeing Steve and offered him a casual greeting, eyes beginning to drift back to her notes before she finished speaking, but her gaze snapped back to him, suddenly alert.

“What are you wearing?” She asked, horror clear in her voice.

Steve looked down. “Running clothes?” He ventured, accurately.

“You went to Eddie’s to get measured, right? Where did the running come in? Did you…run there?” He wasn’t sure why she looked even more horrified than before, but she did.

“No, Robin, I did not run there.” He kicked off his sneakers. “I brought this to change into, because measuring me over my work clothes seemed like it wouldn’t work very well and the studio is too chilly to go naked.”

Robin, predictably, gagged. “Gross, Steve.” She sat up and scrambled off the couch as he moved to the kitchen. “Wait - did he want you to be naked? How do you know it’s too cold there to be naked? Steve?”

“Because it’s all concrete, Robin. It’s chilly.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a covered bowl. “Did you eat? Want to split the mac and cheese?”

“Yes, please, with hot sauce,” Robin said absently, sitting at the counter. “Go back to the measuring. What happened?” She eyed him. “You seem pretty happy.”

Steve tilted his head in thought as he tipped the mac and cheese into a baking dish and slid it under the broiler with a sprinkle of cheese added to the top. “It was just taking measurements,” he told her. “Which was hotter than it had a right to be, honestly,” he admitted. “But we did talk a little, and you will be happy to know that we’re going to keep things how they are until after Eddie’s show, give ourselves some time to get to know each other better. Just take a little pause.”

Robin nodded. “That sounds like a good idea,” she said slowly. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“Yes.” Steve propped his elbows on the counter. “It was my idea.” He ran a hand through his hair, then reached for a bottle of wine, raising it interrogatively at Robin, who shook her head. “Well,” he said, pouring himself a glass. “I will admit that it wasn’t my first idea.”

“I am going to say this again, and I can’t emphasize it enough: gross.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “When is his show again?”

“A month,” Steve pulled the mac and cheese out and split it onto two plates for them. “Once it’s over, I’m going to take him out on a real date.”

“I can’t wait to hear what Chrissy has to say about all of this,” Robin said, half of her macaroni dropping off her fork on the way to her mouth and fortunately landing on the plate. 

“Hey, no - sibling secrets come first,” Steve protested. “I have secrets I could share with Chrissy, too. Like the time you broke your nose playing badminton in the back yard.”

“Hey!” Robin pointed her fork at him indignantly. “I’d never played before. Anybody can hurt themselves trying a sport for the first time.”

Steve grinned over the rim of his glass. “You ran into the net, fell down, and kneed yourself in the face.”

“I still maintain that it could have happened to anyone,” she huffed.

“Robin, I love you more than anything, but: no. It really couldn’t.” Steve laughed as she threw her napkin at him, and then sobered.

“While we’re talking about secrets,” Robin began cautiously, but she was cut off by a short shake of Steve’s head. “I know,” she said quickly. “But if this does work out, you’ll eventually have to say something.” 

Steve blew out a sigh. “That’s a cross that bridge when I come to it problem, Robin.” 

…

Steve stared at his ceiling in the dim light of his bedroom later that night, cataloging his day. Got those new books scanned, coded, and shelved: good. Mrs. Thomas snuck her lapdog in again, and he tore up one of the pillows in the children’s area: bad. The kids loved the dog, though: good. He and Eddie had confirmed they were interested in each other, and in a dating way not just a sex way: good. They were definitely interested in the sex way, too: good. There was a month until Eddie’s show, and until their date: neutral? Good to have time to get to know each other without jumping into it and risk of messing up what was a critical project for Eddie, but also: a month felt like a really long time. Steve didn’t know how he was supposed to make it that long, with all this anticipation probably getting worse. 

He picked up his phone and checked his notifications for what felt like the thousandth time since he’d gotten home, to find a text from his mom about getting Robin to remember to call the dentist, because she was an adult and his mom couldn’t keep doing it for her, but she ran into the man in the grocery store and he asked about Robin. It was so pointed, Steve. Just make her go, for me. He laughed and texted back a promise to make Robin be an adult and make an appointment - to which he knew he would have to accompany her, unless she wasn’t still trying to impress Chrissy and got her to go, instead - and stared at the tiny icon for Eddie on his recents list.

Taking it slow didn’t mean going backward, right? He could text. Just a good night text. Steve typed and erased, thought, typed and erased, thought more, then typed and hit send before he could erase again. “Just wanted to say goodnight. I’m glad we got a chance to talk today. Get some sleep.”

Steve plugged in his phone and set his alarm, wandering out of his room to brush his teeth and finish getting ready for sleep himself, and telling himself not to check his messages, Eddie was probably busy or even sleeping already, and just check it tomorrow. Like a normal person. He climbed back into bed, immediately picking his phone up and checking for the bright red text dot. He scrambled to open his texts - his mom appreciated him dragging Robin kicking and screaming into being a responsible adult, and she loved them both. 

Which was sweet.

But not the sweet he was looking for, so he sent back a single heart and set the phone down, punching his pillow into shape and determining that he was just going to go to sleep. He was not going to stay up late, waiting for a text like a teenager with a crush. Does it still count as a crush if you both know the other one likes you? He strongly suspected that there was part of him that was always going to feel like he had a crush on Eddie.

He rolled back over, facing his nightstand again, the white cord connected to the phone standing out in the near darkness. He pursed his lips tightly, then sighed and picked up the phone. No text.

Nothing interesting was happening on Twitter; which would have been surprising news to the two bands he liked that had posted about upcoming shows in the area, and also to Robin who was schooling someone on the difference between ‘weary’ and ‘wary.’ (To be fair, that wasn’t the first time - or even the fifth time - that she’d done it, so Steve could be forgiven for rolling his eyes, no matter how pithy her argument.) He opened his texts again, promising himself it was the last time, when the notification he’d been waiting for finally popped up.

Eddie had sent a picture of his work table covered in paper, his notes and measurements at hand and a shining pair of scissors laid at the ready. “Getting ready to draft the pattern,” the follow up text said. “Should have a muslin ready to test fit by day after tomorrow for you and Chrissy, then Robin hopefully day after that, since I’m not measuring her until tomorrow.”

Steve decided he would google what all of that might mean later, and compromised by sending a selfie - half his face sunk in the pillow, blankets rumpled up around his shoulders, his smile just discernible. “Let me know when you need me,” he texted back. “Don’t stay up all night.”

“I hope you know that is my new lock screen,” Eddie sent back. A new text read: “I just have to get through this part, and then I’m heading home.” A third text took longer to compose, judging by the appearance and disappearance of the ellipses, but eventually came through: “I know we have a lot more talking to do, but I feel good about where we are right now, and even better about where we’re going. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, if I don’t fall asleep on the table. Scratch that, the mannequins next door will keep me awake. Sweet dreams, Stevie.”

“Good night, Eds. Watch out for the mannequins.” Steve grinned.