You know how cats seem to have an innate sense of when you’re about to get up, and they choose that exact moment to sit down on your lap? And no sooner have they made themselves comfortable than you realize that you have to go to the bathroom, or someone calls you over, or the phone starts ringing, and you have to shove the poor cat off your lap?
That’s basically Eddie’s sex life right now.
Well alright, no, not entirely, but – it’s a component that’s certainly starting to become an irritation.
It’s just that Steve has a wonderful lap.
At least, Eddie assumes it’s wonderful. It’s wonderfully inviting, at the very least; it’s wide enough to offer Eddie (who is not quite as generously endowed in the whole… thighs-ass department, he’ll admit) a good seat, and he’s had his hands on the area often enough to know it’s firm but with just the right amount of give to be very comfortable.
But Eddie’s never actually gotten to spend much time on it.
He doesn’t even mean that in a sexual way (although that much is also true). Every time he’s so much as tried to plop himself down on Steve’s lap to do something as innocent as watch a movie, Steve seems to remember something he needs to get up and do within just a few minutes.
For a little while, Eddie had been worried about what that meant. Did Steve not want to spend time with him? Did Steve not want Eddie near him? Did Steve not find him attractive? Did Steve just find him annoying?
But further time spent together has given Eddie more confidence. Clearly Steve enjoys spending time with him—submits to it willingly and often—and does find Eddie annoying but in a way he enjoys. Steve also most definitely finds Eddie attractive (and, in fact, has no trouble at all spending extended time on Eddie’s lap). So at this point, it’s more of a puzzle. A frustration.
It can’t be that Eddie’s too heavy for him; Eddie isn’t a small guy, really, but he isn’t huge, either. He’s seen Steve push and pull bigger people around – hell, he’s seen Steve carry Mike a good ways through the woods and back to the car after the kid had slipped and twisted his ankle when they’d been out walking (an incident which none of them are allowed to speak of ever, for varying reasons of blackmail and dignity), and he’s not too much smaller than Eddie.
Eddie is nothing if not a direct sort of guy, though – if he’s thinking something, he’s going to say it. This is mostly because he has very little brain-to-mouth filter, but he’s learned to make it part of his image. He’s pretty sure it works for him.
All of this to say that one afternoon, as they make out on Steve’s couch, Eddie freshly settled on Steve’s lap, Eddie decides to just… ask.
He waits until he can feel Steve’s hands sliding down around his thighs—not groping, but with the intent to move him—before he pulls back to say anything.
“Hey,” he says—gasps, really, still a little breathless with his attempt to seize the opportunity, “question.”
Steve blinks up at him, startled. “Uh. Shoot.”
“Do you not like it, when I sit on your lap? Because it kinda seems like you find other places to be when I try to make that happen.”
If Steve had been startled before, that’s nothing on how he looks now. He covers it in an instant, but Eddie’s seen it; Steve’s good, he’s very good, but Eddie is literally right in his face.
“What?” Steve pulls back, brows drawn in confusion. “No. Why would I have a problem with you being in my lap?”
Eddie shrugs. “Not a damn clue. That’s why I figured I’d ask. It’s just that whenever I get myself settled here, you suddenly remember you have to get up.”
“I don’t do that,” Steve scoffs, throwing in a good-natured eye roll.
“You kinda do, babe,” Eddie says, keeping it light; this isn’t an argument, nor an accusation – it’s literally just a question, and he doesn’t want to scare Steve off.
“So you’re saying, that every time I have my boyfriend on my lap – a guy I find insanely hot, by the way,” Steve’s hand slide back up Eddie’s thighs, edging towards his ass, and this time he’s groping, “you’re saying I don’t want him there, is that right?”
Eddie’s resolve almost breaks as Steve stares up at him with his ridiculous, pretty eyes (he’s good, he’s very good, Eddie will give him that) and tugs him closer with his ridiculous, strong hands, but he knows Steve is lying. He knows it.
He just doesn’t know why.
And isn’t that interesting? Eddie wouldn’t exactly call Steve an open book, but they know each other pretty well by now; Eddie can usually read Steve, but he has no idea what he’s thinking just at the moment.
So he decides to allow it.
He’ll see where it goes.
“Hm,” Eddie hums, as if he’s thinking. “That does sound a little silly, if you put it like that.”
“Completely silly.” Steve grins up at him, but there’s a thread of very genuine sincerity in what he says next. “Of course I want you here.”
And Eddie’s not sure what to say to that, so he leans back in to kiss Steve again.
And for a while, it’s fine. Great, even. Steve is a very good kisser, after all, and Eddie likes to think he’s no slouch himself, and a good time is being had by all, except before too long Eddie can feel Steve starting to tense up under him.
Once again, Eddie doesn’t mean this in a sexual way.
It’s not the fun, anticipatory kind of tensing, but the ready to run or punch something kind of tensing. The kind of tension that comes from a threat, not from having your boyfriend on your lap.
Eddie waits to see if Steve will do anything, say anything, but he does nothing. His kisses grow more distracted, quicker and shallower, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t push Eddie away.
It’s when Steve starts shaking that Eddie gives up.
“Okay,” Eddie pulls away, shifting himself to the side so he doesn’t have more than an ankle draped over Steve’s legs, “what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong? You’re the one who pulled away,” Steve snaps.
“Yeah, because it feels like you don’t want me up there,” Eddie shoots back.
Steve rolls his eyes again, irritated this time. “What, you don’t like it if I don’t let you sit on my lap, you don’t like it if I do let you sit on my lap– What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Maybe just the goddamn truth.”
Whatever Eddie expects, it isn’t for Steve to just… stare at him.
He stares at Eddie for a good five seconds in full silence before shaking his head. “No,” he says quietly, “you don’t want that.”
His sudden reticence only sparks Eddie’s irritation. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t want, Steve. You don’t want to tell me, that’s on you, but don’t decide for me what I don’t want to know.”
“Well what do you think you’re going to hear, Eddie, huh?” Steve barks. “What do you want to hear? You wanna hear how Billy Hargrove sat on me – pinned me down while he beat me unconscious? Or you wanna hear how it felt to be handcuffed to a fucking chair while some Russians– while they– how it felt to be held down and not be able to stop them from doing anything?”
Steve has stood up now, pacing in front of Eddie, and Eddie wishes he could do anything other than fucking stare while his boyfriend has some kind of breakdown that he started.
“Or – or how about how I ruined multiple dates, or hookups, or whatevers when someone tried to sit themselves down on top of me and I damn near shoved them off onto the floor and then had to make up some dumb fucking excuse and run out on them before I had some kind of fucking panic attack? You wanna hear all that?” Steve demands, rounding back on Eddie. “No! You don’t… you don’t want to hear that.”
“Steve… no, I don’t wanna hear all that,” Eddie says, and hurries on when he can see Steve practically crumple in on himself, “I don’t want to hear that all that horrible shit has happened to you, but I need to.”
“Wh– what?”
“You don’t… I mean, you don’t have to give me specifics if you don’t want, but I need to know what might set you off so I don’t accidentally do it, okay?” Eddie says. “It fucking terrifies me that you went through all that, and I know I can’t do anything about it, but I’m at least not going to be one more thing that makes you hurt. I’m gonna make damn sure of that.”
“…Oh.”
It’s clearly not what Steve was expecting to hear, and for a moment he shifts uncertainly in front of Eddie. He wraps his arms around himself before seeming to think better of it and crossing them over his chest instead. Eddie wants nothing more than to draw him close and hold him, but Steve’s not quite ready yet.
“I’m not… I didn’t want to say anything. I don’t want it to be an issue,” Steve finally says.
I don’t want you to treat me differently, he doesn’t say.
“Then we won’t make it an issue.” Eddie shrugs. “You got some kind of trauma associated with sitting on other people, or can you come back over here to me?”
Steve blinks at Eddie, startled, before he gives in to a little huff of laughter, slowly crossing back over to the couch.
“You’re an ass,” he says, all fondness.
“Mm, so I’ve been told,” Eddie says, aiming a smug smile up at Steve as Steve settles himself right over Eddie’s lap. “And yet, here you are.”
“Yeah…” Steve leans in, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth, quirking a little smile as he pulls away. “Here I am.”
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