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The silence in the car was stifling.
It was hot. Like, entirely too hot.
Steve was about five seconds away from taking his shirt off and dealing with Robin’s rolled eyes when Eddie, surprisingly, beat him to it.
The windows were down, but the radio was off, and sweat was dripping from every pore of their bodies onto the sticky leather seats of Steve’s car.
Eddie’s shirt was sitting on the seat next to him, and one of his hands was gathering his hair up so he could get some wind on his neck, not that the wind was any real help.
“What if we just all go to Robin’s?” Eddie asked when they were only a block away from her house. “Soak up some cool air.”
“Her parents are home,” Steve said for the fifth time.
“I don’t see the issue.”
“They think you were targeting me as the next victim,” Robin shook her head. “I don’t know how many times I’ve explained to them-“
“Fine!” Eddie said, too hot to bother listening or trying to argue. “But I swear we’re getting the AC in this car fixed tomorrow.”
“Oh, do you suddenly have $140?” Steve was met with silence. “Thought so.”
When Robin got out of the car, she slipped $20 into Steve’s hand. “For gas or AC, whatever.”
It was the first time Eddie had ever seen her give Steve any form of payment for rides, and probably the last going off of the way Steve’s entire face went from mildly uncomfortable to physical pain.
Eddie moved to the passenger seat and buckled up.
That was the biggest rule in Steve’s car: everyone wore seatbelts unless they were being chased by Upside Down creatures.
Steve backed out of the driveway once Robin was inside, and once again tried to flip the AC on.
Nothing.
“Why did this have to happen right before the hottest part of the year?” Eddie groaned.
“Just lucky,” Steve shrugged.
He should’ve taken his shirt off when he was in Robin’s driveway.
He pretended not to be distracted by the sweat glistening on Eddie’s chest, his skin flush pink from the heat. Steve pretended to not notice his newest tattoo, a nail bat that could have been identical to Steve’s real one under his bed.
“Oh!” Eddie suddenly said, nearly making Steve slam on the brakes or steer off the road. Maybe both.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot,” Eddie started to say as he reached through the backpack he had on the floor at his feet. “I made a…ah-ha!”
He held up a small rectangle, beaming over at Steve, who was too focused on driving to really see what he was holding.
“Uh. What is it?” He asked.
“It’s a mixtape! You were complaining about the kids stealing all your tapes and I thought I could make one for you,” Eddie opened the cassette case and shoved the tape in the tape deck. “I fit as much of what I knew you had on here, but there are limits to my magic so-“
“You seriously made me a mixtape of a bunch of pop songs?” Steve rolled to a stop at a stop sign, finally able to properly look over at Eddie.
He was pulling a lock of hair into his mouth, nervously looking back at Steve like he was unsure he’d done the right thing, like this was a test he hadn’t studied for and had a big chance of failing.
“I mean, I did throw in one of my favorite songs halfway to shake things up,” Eddie said nervously.
“You recorded fucking Blondie on a tape for me?” Steve asked incredulously.
“One song is Blondie, but-“
“And Tears for Fears?” Steve was still stopped in the road.
Eddie glanced behind them, ignoring the squeak of his slick skin rubbing against the seat. No cars, thankfully.
“Yeah, they’re on there.”
Steve put the car in park.
“Steve, you’re in the road, you can’t-“
“Shut up!” Steve turned completely towards Eddie, his face serious. “You made me a mixtape.”
“Yes and now I’m regretting mentioning it while you were driving.” Duran, Duran started playing and Steve let out a small gasp. “Dude, are you okay?”
“Do you remember when you told me that music was your love language? We were high and you said that you would give the person you love a mixtape to show you cared about them?”
He did say that. It was well over a month ago, when he and Steve had been sitting on his roof smoking, when Eddie had almost told him then how much he loved him. He’d held back, but barely.
“I…yeah, I remember.”
“And you made me a mixtape.”
“I did.”
“Eddie…”
“Steve…”
“Is this you telling me you love me?”
It wasn’t. Not intentionally. Not really.
But as expected, Steve saw through him, had a memory like a steel trap despite how many times he’d had his lights knocked out.
“You love me.”
Eddie was desperate to touch him, but the reminder of how hot it was, how much sweat was dripping off of him made him pause.
“When we get to your house, I’ll tell you.”
“What? Why not now?” Steve pouted.
Eddie fell harder.
“Because if I kiss you in this car, I’ll be mad about suffering in the heat longer. You have a house with AC and a cold shower." Eddie poked Steve's bottom lip back in. "I can show you if you hurry."
Steve took the car out of park and hit the gas, his perfect mixtape playing on the radio and Eddie laughing in the passenger seat.