eddie, steve
.🥞✨
‘uh, the pancakes with bacon please, extra syrup? thanks.’
eddie knows that order. he makes it every saturday night, so late it’s almost morning.
but he’s never heard that voice before, never heard it so close, right by the pass window.
he swallows. turning from the sink in the back to face out into the diner, someone’s sat at the counter, right across from him.
the most beautiful boy eddie’s ever seen.
he’s looking right at eddie, cheeks slightly pink, fiddling with a still wrapped straw. he looks perfect and cozy and adorable, hair sleep rumpled and in a hoodie that swallows up his soft lines, making him look even softer.
‘coming right up.’ eddie rasps, his own cheeks colouring.
but the boy, he smiles. ducks his head, looks up at eddie through his lashes.
eddie’s a fucking goner.
-
steve can’t believe it. his eyes are even bigger this close up, big and brown and sparkling with life.
his hands are just as nice this close up too, delicate but capable as they move around where steve can see. he sticks his tongue out a little when he concentrates. it’s adorable.
he’s the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.
he puts steves finished pancakes in the window with a little smile, rings the bell and seems to blush even harder. almost cringing at the sound. it’s makes steve laugh, he’s cute.
and they’re still the best pancakes the midwest has to offer, at denny’s, at 3am. even sober and nervous and exited like he is.
steve can’t help closing his eyes like always when he takes his first bite. always blown away by their sweet fluffy texture. and he makes his way through them a little quicker than normal, without robin to distract him.
they taste as good as normal but he’s right there. right there watching steve eat them. something about it makes him feel shy, barely daring to look up from his plate. but when he does the line cook has the softest smile on his face and steve relaxes, tucks his hand under his hoodie to rest on his stomach like normal. finished his pancakes.
when steve looks up again, the guy is staring at his empty plate, kind of stuck in space. but then he vanished for a moment and the door to the kitchen opens. and he’s coming over, picking up the syrupy plate and he has freckles, bats tattooed on his arm.
he’s so close. he’s so pretty this close.
the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.
‘eddie?’ steve blurts, exited, finally able to read his name tag. his names eddie.
his name is eddie.
eddie’s cheeks get pink, the tips of his ears. he looks at steve with wide eyes ‘yeah?’ he asks, voice small and confused.
steve grins at him. ‘your names eddie.’ and he watched eddie’s smile bloom, he has dimples.
‘wha’ eddie clears his throat. ‘what’s yours?’ and steve feels his heart burst, feels like sunshine and crisp leaves.
‘steve.’ he says, a little breathless.
‘steve.’ eddie whispers.
‘when do you go on break?’ steve asks, heart beating in his throat.
eddie just shrugs, eyes still wide. ‘whenever. as long as there’s no customers in.’ and steve realises he’s the only one here. it makes him blush more, for some reason.
‘make us another batch?’ he asks, deciding to be brave, leaning over the counter, just to be a little closer. ‘we can share.’ and it’s so worth it. to see the smile grow on eddie’s face, watch him nod, watch a curl slip out of his bun. watch him work his magic through that little pass window. stealing glances at steve as he goes.
-
watching steve enjoy his food is even better close up. even better than eddie could’ve imagined.
they’re sitting in steve’s usual booth, eddie’s where robin normally sits, he finally has a name for the cool girl steve hangs out with. gets to hear a little about how they met, can tell he loves her, so much. it’s sweet, his eyes shining as he talks.
so is the way steve cuts the pancakes, sweet, pushing perfectly stacked mouthfuls towards eddie to have. pancake, bacon, pancake. all covered in syrup, sticky and delicious.
eddie never really even liked pancakes much, more of a waffle guy. but sitting here, watching steve eat them, laughing and smiling at things eddie says. jaw just a little soft, upper lip smattered with hair. watching steve sigh and stretch when they’re done. that hand coming to rest on his stomach again, the way it always does, every saturday night.
eddie knows he’ll always love pancakes.
-
‘how do you get them to be so good?’ steve asks, hand circling eddie’s wrist loosely, stopping him before he goes back to his job, an orders come in, he has to go. but steve needs to ask, wants to know. wants one more moment with him.
eddie smiles, takes steve’s hand and kisses the back of it. and it’s so out of place, at denny’s, at 4 am that steve giggles, almost manic. it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.
‘they’re made with love sweetheart.’ eddie says, looking up at him from his bow, kissing his hand again before walking away. the napkin with steve’s number on tucked safely in his back pocket.
steve’s forearm scrawled in the black ink of eddie’s own.
steve goes home and falls straight to sleep. so late its almost morning, like every saturday night.
he dreams of brown eyes, and syrup.
<3
fin.
ty for reading! mwah!
@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @spectrum-spectre @stevesbipanic @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @acedorerryn @scoops-aboy86
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