( the utter lack of recognition on eddie's face allows steve to relax a little. steve is still running on fumes and reeling from the fact that eddie is apparently his new neighbor—and trying really hard not to show it—but the fear that eddie might clock him as spider-man recedes. he sees the way eddie looks him up and down, and maybe it's his imagination, but he notices the way eddie's reaction to steve differs from his reaction to spider-man. there's not the same sense of awe or admiration. and why would there be? steve didn't check a mirror before he stumbled out of his apartment, but he's sure he looks like shit. it doesn't bother him the way it would have, back in high school when he wouldn't have been caught dead without his hair perfectly styled. but he'd be lying if he said it doesn't sting at least a little bit, knowing he'll never be as impressive as his alter ego.

he folds his arms, wincing slightly as he brushes a fresh bruise, and then puts his hands on his hips instead. in response to eddie's question, steve nods and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. ) Yeah, right over there. ( then he reaches with the same hand and clasps eddie's outstretched one for a shake. ) I'm Steve—Harrington.

( he waits to see if the name rings a bell. it's completely possible that eddie never intended to call the number spider-man gave him. that the marker washed off without eddie thinking to write it down somewhere else. if steve glances down at eddie's hand after he releases it, it's not because he's trying to check eddie's palm for ink or anything.

steve reaches up and rubs a hand over the back of his head. ) Well, if you change your mind and you do want a hand, you know where to find me. Welcome to the building. ( and he starts turning to go. )