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“Eddie! Over here!”
A woman is waving from the edge of the red carpet. Behind her, some poor cameraman is struggling under the weight of his equipment. Gareth groans.
“Eddie, no. You've given enough interviews, let’s go.”
Jeff shakes his head. "You still think you can change him? Cute. Let him bask in his victory.”
Eddie waves at them as they disappear into the venue, then saunters over to the reporter.
“Eddie, you won Song of the Year for the second time. How are you?”
“Excellent,” he replies, throwing the sign of the horns at the cameras. “And immensely grateful to our fans. You rock!”
“Speaking of rocking,” the reporter smiles. “You didn’t just accept the award, but also presented your newest song. You've been teasing a collaboration with another artist for a while, but I think nobody was prepared for that reveal. How was the idea born?”
An arm wraps around Eddie’s shoulders.
“Easy. He’s obsessed with me, so when the occasion presented itself, he jumped at it. Right, Munson?”
“The fuck?” Eddie snarls, pushing Steve off. He's still wearing the mesh shirt and kilt from the stage, but has added a suit jacket covered in pins and studs. His legs are adorned in steel-capped boots and a pair of fishnet stockings. Crimson red, matching the tips of his mohawk. “Can't you go five minutes without hogging all of the attention?”
“Steve!” the reporter chirps. “Congrats on making Album of the Year.”
“Thanks,” Steve winks. “Couldn't let Eddie win everything. I've seen what it does to his ego.”
“That's right, you two are from the same town. Rumor has it that you even clashed in a battle of the bands.”
“Well,” Eddie smirks. “The rumors are entirely true. I won, by the way. Write that down.”
“Wow,” Steve mutters. “Hot, talented, and modest.”
The reporter grins. “While we're on the subject of rumors, some fans believe your rivalry is just a publicity stunt. Fanfiction authors have even gone as far as-”
“Gotta go,” Eddie yells. “My band's calling. Thank you, it was a pleasure.”
Steve wiggles his fingers at the reporter as Eddie hauls him away.
“Stop getting your panties in a twist every time someone implies this,” he says as Eddie stomps into the nearest bathroom. “They'll believe it's true.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, shut up,” Eddie growls, crowding him against the sink.
Steve sneers into his face. “Make me.”
Eddie fists both hands into his hair and shoves his tongue in his mouth.
“What the hell was that?” he hisses when they part for air. “We agreed to keep it low profile.”
Steve rolls his eyes, grinding himself against the leg that Eddie has pushed between his thighs. Eddie can feel his dick through the fishnets.
“Says the one who's been prancing around the cameras like a peacock on steroids all day.”
“Oh, honey,” Eddie purrs. “Don't be like that. We all know how you feel about cocks.”
They share a look. Steve nudges his chin towards the nearest stall.
“I swear to God, Munson, if you don't get us in there in the next ten seconds, I'll-”
“Are you out of your fucking minds?”
They flinch apart like a pair of caught-out school kids. Gareth scowls at them from the open door.
“Everyone is looking for you. Can you keep it in your pants?”
Eddie groans. “C'mon, Gare, give me five more minutes. I have a good thing going here.”
Gareth gives him a look. “He's your literal husband, you clown. Get your thing going at the hotel. Now straighten that stupid Scottish skirt and move your asses.”
The door slams shut.
“Stop laughing, you asshole,” Eddie says. “I don't know why I married you.”
“As I said,” Steve winks, squeezing his ass. “Because you're obsessed with me. Now hurry, I don't want Gareth to out us.”
He's right, Eddie thinks, trailing after him. The rivalry act is excellent publicity. Plus, the fanfic authors would have a field day if they found out.