Fanfics from Ao3 - Private

Seventy-Two Seconds

Twenty-seven seconds.
That's how long Steve has been looking at Eddie without him noticing. Eddie's eyes are locked on the television at the front of the room, vibrant colours dancing across his face as he gestures at something happening on screen. His eyes are glittering with mirth, a smile tugging the corners of his lips so high that small dimples form in the middle of his cheeks.
Twenty-eight seconds now.
Steve is mesmerized by the way his curls bounce as he moves, delicate strands caressing his jaw and cascading over his shoulders. Steve's never really been into art, but he figures that if he was he would have liked to paint a moment just like this.
Twenty-nine seconds.
There's something warm and comforting about the sound of Eddie's voice when he laughs, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed almost shut. He tries to keep talking through the laughter, but it just makes him laugh even harder until Steve thinks it's probably the only thing he'll ever hear again.
Thirty seconds have gone by.
When he catches his breath he finally turns, and Steve has to blink because the light lands on his features in a way that creates an image which even poets would struggle to describe. Thirty seconds wasn't enough to prepare him for how Eddie looks right now, like this. Thirty lifetimes might be a better bet, but even that would cut it close.
Thirty-one seconds now, but Eddie has noticed so Steve's not sure why he's still keeping track.
Eddie's eyes are deep and dark. They absorb all the surrounding light while simultaneously reflecting it back. Steve is reminded of a galaxy, or maybe an ocean, and if that's the case he feels he might drown if he doesn't look away. He thinks that might be okay, and he continues to look.
Thirty-two seconds.
Eddie tilts his head a little, a small frown creasing his brow. Steve wonders if those lines will deepen in the next few years, wonders if Eddie's hair will eventually turn grey to match. He thinks that he kind of wants to be around to find out.
Thirty-three seconds.
A rosy tint is creeping up Eddie's cheekbones, staining his usually pale skin. Steve feels the urge to reach out and touch it, to feel the heat beneath his fingertips. He knows he can, but he doesn't know if he should, and so he doesn't.
Thirty-four seconds.
"Steve?" Eddie asks, his voice wavering with uncertainty as he searches Steve's face. His name on Eddie's lips is one of his favourite sounds, he decides. He makes a quick list in his mind, and adds it just below Eddie's laugh.
Thirty-five seconds.
"You're beautiful, Eddie," Steve says, and it comes out barely more than a breath. Eddie's eyes widen just the smallest bit, his lips part just enough to leave a gap. And there Steve feels it again, the urge to reach out, to touch, to feel. And, again, he doesn't.
Thirty-six seconds.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," Eddie says with a laugh that's different from the ones that came before. It's a joke, yes, but it's also a question. It's a lifeline tethering him to safety, ready to catch him should he fall. But Steve isn't going to let him fall. Not now. Not ever, if he has any say in it.
Thirty-seven seconds.
"Not anymore," Steve says, and it's as much an affirmation as it is a promise. Not anymore, not when it's you. The words ignite a spark behind Eddie's eyes, and then it's as if something breaks. It's as if everything breaks, all at once.
Thirty-eight seconds.
When Eddie moves, when his lips meet Steve's, time stands still. It's just Steve and Eddie. Just Eddie and Steve. It's the heat of Eddie's lips against his own, insistent and present like nothing else has ever been. He can touch now, and he does. His hands in Eddie's hair, his fingers trailing over warm skin. It's all so much, and nowhere near enough. The inches between them feel like miles, and even as he pulls Eddie forward onto his lap he wishes they could be closer.
Thirty-nine seconds.
Forty seconds becomes fifty, becomes sixty, becomes seventy.
Seventy-one seconds.
When they pull apart to breathe, it's with the utmost reluctance. Their foreheads are pressed together, their breath mingling in the air between them, fingers grasping tightly as if afraid the other will pull away at any moment.
Steve knows that he'd already fallen most of the way a long time ago, but...
Seventy-two seconds is what it takes for Steve Harrington to fall completely, hopelessly, and irrevocably in love with Eddie Munson