For babysitters

[the_freak]

(Continued from here)

Muffled music heralded Eddie's approach. The van pulled up, and Eddie turned it down, leaning across to push open the passenger door and give a little wave at Steve. He spared a curious glance back at Harington's place before sitting back up, still not entirely sure why he'd wanna leave a place like this to come crash in the trailer park.

"Hey Stranger, going my way?" he greeted easily, head lilting with a teasing grin. "Van's a bit of a mess," he apologized, "You can just kick that outta the way."

Comments

[babysitters]

Steve is sitting by the front door, instead of in the house. Sometimes it's easier to not be in his house than it is to be in it. Besides, he's smoking. Just a tiny stress cigarette, as a treat. His mother hasn't been here since the holidays but he still doesn't smoke in the house because she doesn't like it. Even though his old man had never let that stop him.

Steve is on edge again, on accident, wide awake and wired and exhausted all at once. It feels like maybe he said too much, or asked for too much, or showed a hand he was supposed to keep on the table. Maybe he should have just played it off as a joke, or just left Eddie on read, or done something. Instead he just sat around and now Eddie is here and it is too late to do anything but put the rest of his smoke out and hide it in the stupid potted plant he's kept up for his mom even though she's the one that likes the damn thing.

Safe to say he's not feeling his most lively or charming, when he joins Eddie in the thunderous van. Is it rude to turn the music down (again)? Probably. He'll live with it. "It's fine," Steve says, skeptically, because he does find such a messy car a little hard to handle but whatever, it's not his car! "Thanks, Munson. But I could have walked."

Just so the guy knows how great he's feeling and how well he's handling things! He totally could have gotten to the trailer park on his own power.

[the_freak]

"'Course you could've," Eddie says with an easy too-wide smile, clearly doubtful but willing to let Harrington hold onto the illusion of fine-ness for now.

The van pulls away, and Eddie nods toward a small collection of tapes. "If there's anything you like better we can throw it on. Still rebuilding the collection, but the classics are there."

Not that he thinks Steve really cares one way or the other about the music, but he figures keeping it light is easier than jumping straight into those probing questions.