satanicpanics: (pic#15737640)
š”ˆš””š””š”¦š”¢ š”š”²š”«š”°š”¬š”« ([personal profile] satanicpanics) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2024-09-25 03:16 am (UTC)

[ Well, to be totally fair, he’s not thinking about Dustin anymore. Well, he is, but the worry that’s been plaguing him all day isn’t really at the forefront of his mind anymore. He’s been thoroughly distracted, and it’s strange, the way the rest of the world just kind of melts away for a moment—a moment that feels like an eternity, mind you.

And Steve just doesn’t let go of his wrist. Not until he absolutely has to—when he’s dragged Eddie out the door and slides across the BMW’s top just to get to the drivers seat. Eddie rolls his eyes, but it’s hard not to smile. It’s hard not to chuckle. And, shit, it’s even harder not to be totally charmed.
]

Jesus Christ. Okay, okay, okay. Okay—

[ He mumbles beneath his breath—hopefully out of earshot if he’s lucky, but nothing about Eddie Munson is subtle, and it’s easy to catch the way he pauses to shake out his hands in an attempt to relieve some of his nerves before approaching the passenger seat. Does he know what this is or where any of it is going? Absolutely not. But he’s still interested in seeing it through.

Stop overthinking, he commands himself. Just stop. Because overthinking is how he ends up spiraling and questioning everything. Overthinking is how he gets scared. And sure, he's nerves are jangled as hell, but he’s not quite petrified yet. So he takes the plunge, takes a deep breath and ducks into the passenger seat.
]

That trick normally get you a lot of compliments, Steve?

[ It’s not cruel, not mocking, just light and amused, all mixed up in a tone of fondness and a smile. With his stomach and heart doing cartwheels over one another, he truly feel like he’s dying all over again, but he doesn’t need to show it.

(He is actually impressed, though. That trick doesn’t work on a van unless you want a broken arm and a head injury).

The drive is…it’s normal. Eddie chooses the music without asking and refuses to sit still, fingers tapping along with the music—as always. But this time, rather than staring out the window at the strange scenery that passes, he finds that his gaze keeps drifting to Steve, almost drawn like a magnet, and it doesn’t stop until they reach the Roadhouse. A familiar enough place.
]

Did I?

[ He knows he did, and he probably needs a drink at this point. Just something to soften his nerves a bit. ]

Yeah, I guess I did. Once or twice.

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