First Choice Isn't Always Best

(This one has smut in it, guys! Quick heads up.)

Steve and Eddie's nightly phone calls stopped, being replaced with hanging out every day, going to each other's houses, making out, holding hands, cuddling. It felt right; they never wanted to stop. Each moment without each other felt like an eternity. They had it bad for each other, and they both felt it. Eddie's small whines of protest when Steve had to go to work, Steve pouting when Eddie had to leave for Hellfire Club or go to bed for school the next day. Steve had even met Wayne, accidentally, but Wayne was supportive. He was downright just a nice guy, only mildly threatening Steve when he found out they were dating. Steve swore up and down he would never hurt Eddie like that; Wayne believed him.

Robin knew it all, Steve spilling his guts the day after him and Eddie had hung out alone. She heard about the kiss, the boyfriend talk, even when he called Eddie to play Dungeons and Dragons with the kids. She supported it, genuinely happy for her friend. He was happy again, completely over Billy. He was himself again, and she loved it.

The only people who didn't know, though, were the kids. Steve had no idea how to tell them, neither did Eddie. It might make Dustin's brain explode if he knew both his unofficial mother and father figure were in a relationship. They were both sure the kids were smart enough to figure out something was going between them. If it wasn't the day Steve had called Eddie to do a session with the kids, then it had to be the fact that every time Steve would drop the kids off to the Hellfire Club meetings, he would stay to watch. It might even be the fact that the other members would tell Eddie, "Munson, your boyfriend is here," whenever they saw Steve, and Eddie would just smile and say, "Hi, Stevie."

Maybe it was the fact that Eddie would come over to Steve's house to do weekly one shots with the kids, Steve giving him ideas for each one. Or probably because him and Steve would hold hands during the sessions, Eddie sitting on the floor, Steve just getting done doing a braid or a messy bun in Eddie's hair. The kids were smart, but maybe didn't want to assume.

Steve knew it was too soon to jump into another relationship after just ending one weeks before, but he couldn't hide his feelings anymore. He wanted Eddie, and Eddie wanted him. They were in love, and love doesn't wait for the heart to heal to introduce somebody better.

It was Wednesday now, the kids not at Steve's house yet. Him and Eddie had a few hours to themselves before they had to deal with their children. They were in Steve's bed, in each other's arms, listening to the records Eddie had brought from home. Iron Maiden was on, The Number of the Beast. Steve had asked to hear the band that inspired the zombie tattoo on his boyfriend's chest.

"Here's my favorite track," Eddie said, hearing the opening notes, "It's called Run to the Hills. I listen to it before every Hellfire meeting. Gets me pumped for it."

Steve sat there, listening to the song carefully. The chorus came up and he grinned, hearing the high notes. "This guy is incredible," he commented, "His voice is insane!"

"Right? Bruce Dickinson is a god among men," Eddie agreed, turning his head to kiss Steve.

Steve kissed back, slowly, deeply. A hand moved up Eddie's shirt, feeling the warm skin under his fingertips. He deepened the kiss, using his other arm to prop himself up, now on top of his boyfriend.

Eddie's hands gripped Steve's waist, pulling him to sit on his lap as they kissed. His hands slid down Steve's body, resting on his inner thighs, gripping them.

Steve moaned quietly, breaking the kiss to plant little ones along Eddie's jawline. He trailed down his boyfriend's neck, sucking a bruise into the soft skin.

"S-Stevie," Eddie breathed out a moan, laying his head back. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt the lips on the sweet spot of his neck. "Mmh, fuck."

Hearing his boyfriend moan his name shot a spike of adrenaline down Steve's spine, and he continued working on that spot. His hand slid down Eddie's thigh, rubbing it. He needed to hear it again, needed to hear the deliciously sinful sounds spilling from Eddie's lips. If the man's touch was like a drug, his moans were heaven.