i keep seeing videos of joe playing his guitar and it’s giving me Thoughts™️ so congrats (slightly NSFW- Minors DNI)
“Alright, alright!” Eddie calls. It’s getting late, the crowd is getting a little more rowdy (or maybe just more drunk) but this is important. He decided he was going to do it a while ago and he’s finally going to commit, reputation be damned.
Especially when he sees who’s looking up at him from the front row.
“I’ve got something to confess.” He starts. “Baby, you listening?”
Steve cocks an eyebrow suspiciously.
Eddie doesn’t say anything for a minute, lets the crowd get uncomfortably quiet. Watches Steve’s expression go from amusingly confused to… concerned almost. His eyebrows get tight and Eddie wants to kiss the tense spot between them so badly.
“Stevie…” He breathes. The mic makes it sound more uncomfortable than he means it to. “I lied to you.”
Steve tips his head, and thank God, he doesn’t get that pale, shattered look he used to get when Eddie let a joke go on too long and his insecurities got the best of him. Now he looks apprehensive; he’s waiting for the punchline because he knows Eddie and he knows it’s coming.
“Remember when you found that A-Ha tape in my car?” Eddie adds, and it’s followed by a little strained laugh consensus from the crowd. But Steve, God, But Steve, bursts into the biggest grin.
“It’s not El’s.” He finishes, and he can’t keep a straight face anymore, letting the laugh split his face in half when Steve mouths back “I know.”
“Oh do you? You sneaky little…” He rolls his eyes, but the smile won’t leave his face for a second, he knows that. “Then I guess you know what’s coming next.”
Jeff starts it, the little duhduhduhduh-duhduh-duhduhduhduhduh of Take On Me and Gareth leaps in the third time around with a little heavier drumbeat than the original.
And Eddie? He’s leaned over the edge of the stage, trying to keep his pitch right so he can hit the high notes later on, holding out his hand to help pull up his boyfriend, who’s still beaming like he’s won a million dollars.
The audience, unsurprisingly, is having the time of their lives. Steve always makes a cameo in the shows, they’d be disappointed if he didn’t, but this is something else altogether.
Eddie’s halfway through the chorus before Steve is actually up there next to him (It’s harder than you’d think) and Grant passes over a mic- the one they’d gotten specifically for this purpose- and Steve is singing.
Eddie thought he’d get over it eventually, the soft shyness of Steve’s voice, but he hasn’t before and now is not the time either. Especially when he’s trying to focus on the stupid pop chords and Steve is right there behind him, hand snaking across his waist. Hooking his chin around Eddie’s shoulder and getting so close that for a minute, it’s the mic taped to his face that’s picking up Steve’s voice. Reaching up under his arm and over his chest to pull down the collar of his shirt and bite his neck in the .2 seconds between the second verse and the chorus.
In retaliation, Eddie joins in, almost trying to shadow out his voice because he can get his own infinitely deeper, but it doesn’t work; they meld together like hot butter and there’s a colossal cheer of approval from the long-neglected dark.
And as soon as he was there, invading every inch of sanity Eddie has left, Steve is gone, has half-crossed the stage to return the mic to the stand and then he’s dancing over to Jeff in his skin-tight jeans and he’s showing off, actually. He has to be. No one is that perfect without trying.
Not to be outdone, Eddie throws in a little improv at the bridge, glancing over at Steve when his hands don’t demand his attention, and it’s very obvious that him and Jeff are talking. On stage. About God knows what.
Before he can even question it, he’s barely finished his own peacocking, Steve has Jeff’s guitar and is picking out the perfect, high, electric melody.
duhduhduhduh-duhduh- duhduhduhduh- duhduhduhduh
And obviously Eddie’s not going to pop a boner on stage- he’s not sixteen- but my god, how is supposed to be normal about this?
Steve has barely enough to time to finish his set of riffs, get the strap over his head, and put the guitar back in Jeff’s hands before Eddie’s got him by the belt loops and he is going to kiss him right now, he has to…
And that cheeky bastard pushes his face away, keeps hold of his chin to stop him from fighting, so he can grab the mic stand and finish out the chorus.
(Before he’s even done, Eddie’s already licking at the corner of his mouth.)
The last chorus goes completely forgotten, Eddie’s hands shifting along Steve’s belt and up under the hem of his polo to drag him impossibly closer, Steve locking his fingers into Eddie’s tangled hair, and if Eddie’s mic picks up a few of their soft moans, well, that’s the business of them, the band, and the 8,000 people watching them make out.
(Not that the audience minds. They’ve been chanting “Steve! Steve! Steve!” since he first started singing)
(The band minds. Ew. Those two are menaces to society)
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