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Eddie's sweat pants are low on his hips as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, admiring his latest acquisition. (Fancy word for a fancy man, he thinks to himself.)
He has quite the collection by now, with silly toons and beautiful art pieces stretched along his skin between the criss-cross of fading scars. A parent doesn't pick a favorite child, but this latest tattoo is cutting it pretty damn close. It's a clever piece, using the scar as a branch, filling in leaves and a gorgeous snake around it. It's set on his right side, a bit over his hip bone, tying a few other pieces together.
Eddie never thought of covering up his scars. Why should he? Talk about ice breaker, 'hey how did you get those scars?', and 'Hey, I got them by fighting fucking Vecna' and that's pretty hard to beat. Decorating them, however, that is his favorite pastime.
The tattoo is still pretty new and fairly sensitive, but he's been dying (yes, literally) to take a shower all day, and so it simply has to be. Temperatures of Mount Doom is preferable, and since he and Steve found an apartment together, he no longer has to make do with the half hearted splutters the trailer park shower could muster. It’s heaven, even if the tattoo stings a bit, but it’s worth it. Speak of the devil, as Eddie is doing his best impression of Bonnie Tyler in the shower (nobody needs to know), there is a call from outside the bathroom.
"Eddie! I'm home!"
If the shower wasn't so pleasantly steamy and his hair wasn't in the last few stages of grief (his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner bottle with flames on it is doing the lords work), Eddie would either get out and smooch his face, or forcibly make Steve join him in the shower. But the stage is set, and all Eddie can do is let it play out.
"In the shower! Be out in a minute!"
Which is a lie, and they both know it, but that is routine by now. The rest of the shower contains decidedly less Bonnie Tyler impression, and a lot more lizard steaming impressions instead. By the time Eddie is done, the water is threatening to grow cold and his skin is pleasantly red and smooth.
The mirror is so fogged up, the towel can barely save it, but all he needs is direction, so it will do.
There is a knock at the door, sweetly enough (Eddie would have barged in), and Steve's voice through the door.
"Wanna make dinner with me, babe?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll just put some lotion on the snake, and I'll be with you." Eddie calls back.
He doesn't think any of it, but there is a beat of silence on the other side of the door. The lotion for the tattoo is... rather unstrategically placed in the depths of the cabin underneath the sink, and kneeling down almost costs him his life. He groans as his feet slide under him, catching himself just in time before bashing in his face on the aforementioned sink.
"Fuck," he groans a bit loudly, swearing up a storm under his breath as the cold tiles remind him that this, in fact, is not mount doom.
Outside the door Eddie just about makes out a strangled sound, and quickly fading footsteps, but he doesn't really pay any attention to anything but surviving the horrible cold and getting that god damn lotion!
Safely out of the cold, (stood on... well shit, his t-shirt, oh well) he wraps his head in a manly wrap and out of the way, and towels himself dry. A bit drier at least, and finally dabbing around the tattoo.He smiles at the details of the scale and the eye and the leaves (and the tiny Garfield tattoo just below it) as he dabs it with lotion. It really is a piece of art, worth every penny spent.
It's looks to be healing well, and he can't wait for Steve to run his fingers along it and tell him nice things. Or bratty things, but either way, what bliss.
All lotioned up, and fairly nice smelling, Eddie joins Steve in their small kitchen. The fan is already on, and Steve is chopping garlic and onion and carrots next to their stone aged fridge.
"Hi big boy," Eddie purrs, sidling up behind Steve, a greedy arm wrapping around Steve's middle.
"Hi there," Steve says back, leaning into the touch. "Finish lotioning up your snake already?"
"Hm? Yeah? What are we cooking, it looks good," Eddie looks over Steve's shoulder, considering if he could get away with stealing a carrot.
"Just thought you would take your time, you did make your priorities very clear."
Steve sounds like he's smirking, why is he smirking? Eddie shifts so that he can look at him and get in range for theft both, and Steve is indeed smirking. There is that glint in his eye that Eddie really likes but also really doesn't trust.
"Yeah man, it's important, you don't want it to shrivel up and die, do you?" Eddie asks, successfully stealing a bit of a chopped up carrot.
That earns him a snort and a disbelieving face, as Steve puts down the knife and turns a bit toward him.
"I thought you had a bit more stamina than that," Steve teases, hands sliding along the outside of Eddie's leg.
Even if Eddie likes it, he feels like he is missing a vital part of the conversation.
"In fact, I distinctly remember you asking me to take my time yesterday," Steve leans in, hands traveling to suggestive places that Eddie does not mind, before his brain catches up with what he just heard.
"Not THAT snake, oh my god, Steve!" He puts his entire hand on Steve's face to push him away from himself. "THIS snake! You even saw me getting this, Jesus, man!" Eddie points at his tattoo, but most of his hand is still covering most of Steve's face, so it's not entirely successful.
"Not even 'babe' anymore?" Steve grins, shoving Eddie's hand off his face and returns to the chopping board. "You can't blame me, though. 'I'll just put some lotion on the snake' is a euphemism if I ever heard one."
Hurt, wounded, offended and a little turned on, Eddie huffs and puffs as he opens turns to dig out the right size of pot for the stove.
"I can and I will, you just told me you thought I had the shortest jerk in the history of mankind, and referring to it like 'putting lotion on the snake'!"
"You could prove it," Steve is the one purring this time, leaning in close and giving Eddie a suggestive look. "After dinner. You could show me all about how you put lotion on your... snake."
"Maybe I will," Eddie mutters, face heating. Steve is really good at riling him up, a reputation well earned. "And then it's your turn."
That's a threat and a promise, and Steve spends the rest of dinner talking about trouser snakes and tattoo snakes, and somewhere on the way they need to call Robin (who is in college, and therefore a credible source) if you need to put lotion on pet snakes, and then when they have hung up with Robin they came to the conclusion that Steve has a pet snake in Eddie's trousers and....
Authors note, to prove a point:
