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If there's one thing that Steve knows to be true, it's that Thursday's are always slow. Nothing ever happens on a Thursday. It's just a long work shift of re-shelving, re-winding and re-gretting many of his life choices.
The door being roughly dragged open by Eddie Munson, hard enough to make the closed/open sign swing, is the most interesting thing that's happened all day. He heads straight over to them before slumping dramatically on the front of the counter, hair spilling over his folded arms.
"Welcome to Family Video, how can we help you today?" Steve says, without bothering to lower the magazine he's only half reading, because he knows exactly how to deal with children and their drama at this point.
Eddie doesn't say anything, he just continues to be a pile of dark hair and cheap cologne next to the new release pamphlets. Steve has already had to pick them up and re-order them twice.
"Our videotape emporium is here for all your movie needs," Robin adds in a dull monotone, she's leant backwards across from Steve, head tipped onto the rack full of snacks, staring at the ceiling.
Something is mumbled into the wood of the counter, Steve doesn't catch it but Robin lets out a long amused noise through her nose and rolls her head in Munson's direction.
"If you can't take the adoration of the masses then maybe you should hang up the guitar for good."
The comment finally makes Eddie pull his head up.
"I come here for moral support from my comrades and this is what I get?"
"Ok, what don't I know?" Steve tosses the magazine to one side, since this feels like it's definitely going to be more interesting. Which isn't saying much, since the bar for 'interesting' is currently somewhere at floor level, possibly lower.
"Eddie has an admirer," Robin provides, using the counter to pull herself upright so she can get into poking range. The most dangerous range, Steve knows from experience.
"An unwanted admirer," Eddie clarifies.
"Ah, yeah, been there, dude." Steve can't think of a good way to ask if it's a boy admirer or a girl admirer, or if he's even supposed to. There's no one else in the store but not being explicit about things feels like it's a habit for both of them. Usually he just follows their lead.
"I told Eddie to just tell them he's already seeing someone right now."
Steve nods because that's excellent advice.
"Yeah, that's usually the easiest way out." He's done it himself, though in his defence it had normally been true, or easy enough to make true in a pinch. "Takes some of the sting out of just outright rejecting someone."
Eddie unburies himself to lean towards them both, hands flung out in their direction.
"I tried, I already did that, and it was exactly as awkward and uncomfortable as I hoped it would be. To make things worse, I'm pretty sure they didn't believe me, what with the whole murder allegations and the -" he does finger quotes, "'animal attack' that messed up my beautiful face. Unlike his highness here I can't just up and produce a fake date at will."
"I can't produce a date at will." Steve objects so much to the way he'd phrased that.
"Yeah, that makes it sound like you have a girl in your pocket at all times," Robin agrees with a laugh. "Like for emergencies. Maybe one of those inflatable ones where you pull a ripcord and just 'pssshht' instant girl." She's finding it all far too funny. Steve is finding it disturbing, and it worries him that he's the only one.
Eddie raps his fingers on the counter to get both their attention.
"I need some help here. It's making practice really fucking awkward because they keep showing up and now it's weird for everyone and that's now my fault, apparently. But there is no way for me to say 'hey, I'm seeing someone' without actually..." He waves his hands like he's trying to do a magic trick. "Producing someone. Which, for obvious reasons -" He gestures again, this time in a vague sort of way that somehow manages to demonstrate himself and then the whole town. "Is a really fucking stupid idea."
Steve sighs, because this is one of those things they're making way more complicated than it needs to be.
"Yes, yes, you absolutely can look like you're seeing someone without having to ask someone to show up as proof," he says, before Robin can work up to saying something that he feels will not be helpful or supportive.
But now they're both looking at him like he has secrets he's keeping from them. Which is actually kind of a nice change, because normally Steve's the one that always feels like he needs to catch up. He lets it sit for a minute because it doesn't happen very often and he thinks he deserves it.
"Well, don't leave us all in suspense," Robin demands.
"Yes, please share with the class, preferably before I have to change my name or fake my own death, which, to be honest, it kind of feels like I did already." Eddie looks genuinely interested and Steve could count on one hand the number of times that's been true about anything he had to say. He lets the moment drag on a fraction longer as he leans down next to Robin, pointing at where Eddie's still half slumped over, balanced lazily on both arms, the collar of his leather jacket spilling open.
"Just get someone to give you a hickey."
Eddie blinks up at him.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Oh my god, yes, that's genius." Robin's already reaching forward to slap both hands down, hard enough to make a packet of skittles and a returned tape bounce. "They'll absolutely think you have someone on the side if you show up looking like you got mauled."
"Someone on the -" Eddie rubs both hands down his face. "Ok, let's pretend I actually accept that this is a good idea, my hair would cover it anyway and I hate to break it to you, but no one wants to see me with a ponytail."
"Ok, I now immedately want to see that," Robin decides.
Steve nudges her before she can get distracted.
"No, trust me, I'm an expert, get someone to put it right on the curve of your neck and that thing's going to be plenty visible. If anything, your hair is going to draw attention to it every time you turn your head."
"I mean he's not wrong." Robin reaches out to poke at Eddie's collar. "If anyone is paying attention to you they'll see it right away. You'll give off that vibe like you're getting some and you're way too cool to bother hiding it. They'll definitely know you let someone get close enough to put their mouth all over you. Very obvious, very possessive."
Eddie's head ends up in his arms again. He sounds like he's laughing, or dying, possibly both.
"Ok, new plan, maybe something that doesn't involve me needing a friend who would actually do that for me."
There's a long pause, Steve spends most of it thinking about all the people they know and who they might be able to ask - and then Robin jabs him with an elbow, hard.
"Ow, what?"
"You're like an expert at this. You could do it."
"What?" Munson's head comes up out of his arms. "No," he says immediately.
But now Steve's thinking about it and it's actually not a bad idea. He could do it, no problem. Eddie's his friend now and he's so, so bad at accepting help. In just the few months they've been friends he's been willing to do more for Steve and the kids than people he's known for years, and he rarely gets the chance to pay it back. This is like five minutes out of his Thursday. This probably won't even be the stupidest thing he's done on a Thursday.
The more he thinks about it the more obvious it is. Of course he's going to do it.
"Yeah, I could do it."
"No," Eddie says again, waving both hands like he's trying to physically deflect the idea.
"Eddie, do you want an amateur hickey?" Robin asks the question like it's a threat. "Do you want to show up with some half-hearted smudge of a thing that means nothing and leaves everyone thinking it's not serious? No, if you want the best then you go to a professional. Steve is a professional. He has a master's degree in fooling around."
Steve is honestly not sure if that's a compliment or not.
"I don't want to make it fucking weird between us," Eddie says stiffly.
"If it helps, I've done much weirder things while drunk, or on a dare," Steve tells him.
"It's true, he has, so much weirder," Robin agrees.
"That does not comfort me." Eddie talks a good game, but he's not actively running away, he's just fidgeting against the display. He doesn't even step back out of the way when Steve slips out from behind the counter and that means it's easy enough to reach out on his way past and collect him.
"Ok, Munson, back room, let's make it look like you got some action."
There's a hissing, strained exhale of air, but Steve already has a hand in surprisingly warm leather, pulling him over towards the break room. Robin gives them both a helpful thumbs up as they navigate the stacks.
"Seriously, you don't have to do this, I can come up with something. I've never gone long without a plan, I'm just off my game because of the whole 'showing up in public' thing, it threw me off. I just need like an extra afternoon or two to come up with something believeable. I'll make a list, do some research. You're supposed to be working, dude."
"This will take like five minutes," Steve says. "And, to be honest, it kind of makes a nice change for me to know exactly how to fix something rather than standing around listening to other people explain how to fix things for me. Which gets really old, I'll tell you." He pushes the door shut behind them both and waves a hand at where Eddie is still looking confused, cheeks frustration pink.
"Take your jacket off and pull your hair to one side."
For a second Eddie looks physically pained.
"What you're not even gonna like...ease into it?" he complains, but he does start awkwardly shaking his jacket off his shoulders. "No romance, no conversation, just take your clothes off, Munson, shut your eyes, Munson, think patriotic thoughts, Munson."
"If you think that would help," Steve offers, as seriously as he can. Because he knows if he plays into this they'll be here all afternoon.
"You're making this weird," Eddie accuses. It turns out there's a hairband in the pocket of his jeans, which he slips around the backs of his fingers before reaching up and catching his hair, folding it inside with two quick flicks of his wrist. "Which you expressly promised not to do."
"I'm trying not to." Steve makes that as reassuring as he can, but honestly, he's witnessed Eddie make things weird repeatedly just by opening his mouth, so he can't hold all the responsibility here.
"Yeah?" Eddie doesn't look convinced. "Because this feels a lot like when we all stood in line for vaccinations."
Steve can't help laughing at the comparison, especially considering the way long, ring-clad fingers are fidgeting with the sleeve of Eddie's shirt in what's obviously a nervous gesture.
"Don't worry so much." He crowds Eddie into the wall, because it'll probably be less weird if they're not just standing in front of the couch in the middle of the room. It will also be easier if they have something to brace against. Steve reaches two fingers up to catch the black neckline of Eddie's shirt so he can draw it to one side, exposing not only the slope of his neck but a hard edge of collarbone and a pale stretch of shoulder. It's smooth and warm under the drag of his knuckles, twitching a little at the contact.
"Fuck, what am I supposed to do with my hands?" Eddie asks, confused, something too fast and thready in his voice.
"Whatever you like," Steve offers and then ducks in.
Up this close, Eddie doesn't smell as bad as he'd expected. He's a little sweaty and he definitely smells like weed but his skin is clean and his slightly wrinkled shirt smells like some citrus cologne or something. It's kind of nice, and Steve hums approval before he opens his mouth and lays his tongue flat on the bend of his neck.
Eddie goes very still, a cracked sound that might have been the start of another protest breaking in his throat. Steve can still feel the way his hands twitch at his sides before forcing themselves still. He hadn't expected it to be that different with a guy but finds that there's more muscle in the neck, a wider bend of shoulder to put his hand on. Different but not bad, kind of good actually, it makes him feel like he could grip harder and Eddie wouldn't mind.
It sometimes feels like not a day goes by when Steve isn't doing something (or being talked into something) that's strange and new and usually outside of his very limited skillset. He thinks there might be a danger that he's getting used to it, or at least it seems to bother him less than it did, for all the token protests he puts up. Maybe he'd just used up all his allowances to freak out and now he just has to accept what people throw at him. He can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But it seems to be working out for him so far, so he's mostly finding himself just going with it.
He hums a noise that he hopes is reassuring, and gives the impression that Eddie should stay still, before he makes a seal with his mouth and pulls at the skin.
The muscle he has under his tongue tenses and he can hear the beginning of a word, before it catches and dies. He wraps his other hand around the back of Eddie's neck to steady him, fingers sliding naturally into the bottom of his hair - and Steve feels the body he's holding slowly relax, biceps going soft, neck stretching out. It makes it easier to suck what he's holding, and he indulges for a minute, feeling the flutter of Eddie's pulse against his cheek, the way his throat rolls in a swallow.
The mark would show up better if he bit down into it, just a touch to ring the outside of it, but he hadn't been with many girls who liked that. Still this wasn't really about anyone getting off, it's a demonstration, and he figures whoever Eddie Munson takes to bed is probably going to be a little freaky. So he settles his teeth in and bites against the curve, encouraging blood to flush up under the pressure.
Eddie jolts under the movement, before forcing himself still, though not before he gets out some thready thing that sounds like a gasp. Steve's heard the same noise in this exact position often enough that he gives himself a little pat on the back for picking exactly the sort of mark Eddie might end up with if this was real. He can feel the way hands twitch against the waist of his jeans, and then lift to grip at his elbows. Eddie's making awkward little 'ah' sounds in his throat like he's on the verge of making a comment but the words just won't come.
Steve has probably done enough, the red flush will turn purple, a burst of colour that'll sit on his neck in plain sight, streaks of dark hair hiding at best half of it and he can't help but feel a twist of satisfaction at how vivid it's going to be. He's pretty sure the mark's going to stay for days, and if he feels smug about getting to put it there, that's between him and his slightly fucked up and recently wounded sense of self-worth.
He releases the skin, watches the way it shines wet and red, the faint imprint of teeth settled around it. It's a vivid contrast to the rest of Eddie's bare neck, and he has to admit, he's kind of into the idea of everyone seeing it, even if no one is going to know it was him. He thumbs as much of his saliva away as he can.
"How's that?" he asks, voice coming out a little more post-makeout rough than he intends.
"Yeah, thanks, that's good, that's fine, thanks," Eddie says without even seeing it, breathless and a little desperate sounding.
Steve releases him and steps back. Eddie looks like a deer in headlights for a minute, eyes too wide, lower lip wet and dented a little by faint marks, before he's shaking out his hair and struggling to get his jacket back on. Steve can still taste him in the back of his mouth.
"Thanks, for the - yeah, I should probably get - practice." It's almost a complete sentence but Steve promised he wouldn't make it awkward and weird, so he just tugs open the door and lets Eddie fall through it. But Robin won't let him leave until she's gotten a good look at it, which she leans all the way over the counter to do, easing his jacket collar open.
"Wow, Steve, that's...that's really in there, isn't it? Damn, Munson, you look like you got mauled by a sexy bear. It looks good, it looks vivid, very possessive."
A stack of tapes is sacrificed to either her enthusiasm or Eddie's flailing arm, Steve can't tell. He listens to them clatter to the floor and decides he'll pick them up in a minute. Watching Eddie's face take on an unexpected flush is suddenly far more interesting.
"You have to come back and tell us if it works." Steve is pretty invested in this now.
"Yes, you absolutely have to," Robin agrees. "It isn't often Steve gets to be a big part of the planning and execution stages, you gotta give him the credit if he contributes."
"I'm a helper," Steve offers.
"He's a problem solver."
"Today at least."
"Yes, sure, will do, absolutely." Eddie tries to open the door the wrong way, swears and tries again, narrowly missing slamming straight into it. "Thanks and everything. Catch you later." He waves without looking back at them, reaching a hand up to pull at his hair as he goes.
Steve watches him try and open his van three times.
"I might have made it a little weird," he decides.
"It's your face," Robin explains, with great reluctance. "It makes people do stupid things."