Chapter Text
There’s this group of college freshmen — Eddie has dubbed them The Party in his head — that come into Brewed Awakening every Saturday morning at 9am. It’s been so consistent that Eddie saves the big table for them now, so they can roll out their giant map, dump a bunch of tiny figurines onto the table, and then spend the next six hours (one time nearly ten) playing Dungeons and Dragons. The current campaign they’re working through is fucking rad, as far as Eddie can tell.
It makes Eddie miss high school, just a little bit.
He was a nerd, too, back in the day, dabbling in DND and Magic the Gathering when he wasn’t getting the shit kicked out of him by the jocks for his long hair (he’ll die before he cuts it, even now), his flamboyant sense of self-expression, and his utter disregard for teenage social hierarchies. Hell, he’s a nerd now, it just matters a lot less when you’re pushing thirty. No one makes fun of him anymore, except his reformed-cheerleader best friend who he’s known since senior year, one of his regulars who is his favorite customer and daresay he a friend now, his favorite ginger barista, and the actual, true nerds currently yelling about shitty rolls in the corner of his coffee shop.
They buy a shit ton of coffee, too, so it’s good for his mental health and also for his five year business plan.
The door opens, letting in morning light and the sound of rain, and said favorite customer waltzes in, struggling to close an umbrella that Eddie is sure has an automatic close button.
“Morning, nerd,” Robin Buckley says brightly as she slides onto a stool at the bar. She’s wearing a paisley shirt with high-waisted jeans and suspenders today. He fucking loves her sense of style. Delicate butch, she calls it.
Really, Eddie just really fucking loves Robin. A lot. She manages a small art gallery in town that hosts local art and is overall a quirky, silly person who smiles more often than not and takes everything in stride. He knew her briefly his senior year of high school, but they’d never really been friends, just comfortable acquaintances in band. Eddie hadn’t had many friends that year — moving back to a small town as a metalhead nerd meant he had a very specific group of people who would accept him in without flinching, and Robin wasn’t necessarily popular, but they didn’t run in the same crowds, either.
And then one day several months back, she walked into the cafe, recognized him, and they hit it off pretty quickly. Robin and her girlfriend love live music, so they’ve been inviting Eddie to shows, some of which Vickie has played in. He hasn’t invited them to one of his shows yet, but he thinks he might soon.
“Morning, Robin,” he replies and begins making her drink without prompt. She gets the same thing every time, even if it’s cold — an iced latte with oat milk and two pumps of butterscotch. “You look lovely today, m’lady.”
She sighs dramatically. “If you’re trying to finagle a tip out of me with your charm and dashing good looks, you’re sorely mistaken about the status of my bank account.” She pauses. “Also, I’m a lesbian, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget, but I can change you,” Eddie says with feeling, causing Robin to snort a laugh.“Listen, we could be the ultimate power couple. Insanely charming gay man with amazing hair meets positively radiant lesbian with freckles to die for. World peace is achieved. The ice caps stop melting. The bees have been saved.”
She nods and strokes at her chin, as if she’s thinking it over. “We’d be too powerful,” she says eventually, almost mournfully.
“Oh, hey, Robin!” Dustin, the DND college kid with curly hair and an infectious smile, says as he approaches the counter, interrupting their frankly fantastic plot for world domination. “Where’s Steve? That bastard said he’d play today.”
Robin gives Dustin an unimpressed look. “I don’t know why you keep believing him when he says he’s going to play Dorks and Warlocks with you. Also, I’m his roommate, not his keeper.”
“What happened to platonic soulmates with a capitol P?” Dustin mocks in a voice that is supposed to be Robin.
“Still not his keeper,” Robin says sweetly even though her eyes are boring holes into him.
“Ah, yes,” Eddie interjects and hands Robin her iced latte, which she cradles lovingly before handing him her credit card. “The elusive roommate. You know, I am starting to believe he’s not real and you just want me to think you have other friends. You want another drink, Dustybun?”
Eddie heard the other boys call him that once and it was solidified in his brain. Dustin huffs about it, but Eddie is pretty sure he secretly loves it.
“I told you not to call me that, but yes. And he does exist, Eddie, but he’s a stick in the mud who doesn’t keep his promises. You’d play with us if we asked.”
Eddie grins. “You’d have to change the time ‘cause I work every Saturday, but sure. I’ve got a bard waiting to seduce all the NPCs.”
Robin does her weird silent laugh where she just emits gusts of air and Dustin throws his hands in the air. “See! Even Eddie would come! Steve’s just a jerk.”
“Seduce all the NPCs, really?” she finally manages, wiping at her eyes. “You’re a deviant. And you.” She points at Dustin. “Maybe he’s just not that into you and Dragons and Daggers.”
Dustin gasps. “How could you say that? Steve—”
“Steve what?”
They all turn towards the man coming in from the rain. He is… stupidly attractive, Eddie thinks, his brain fizzling out for a moment. Wide jaw, sharp nose, and perfectly coiffed hair that doesn’t seem to have been affected by the humid drizzle at all. In fact, he runs a hand through it haphazardly, like he doesn’t even care how it looks, and somehow it looks even better.
Eddie starts making Dustin’s drink so he doesn’t keep staring.
“Henderson here is crying about you not showing up at the ass crack of dawn for nerd games on a Saturday,” Robin replies, and when the man slides onto the stool next to her, she leans over and gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “He said you’re a jerk.”
He shrugs and then winks at Dustin. ”But I’m your jerk.”
Eddie snorts.
The man’s gaze turns to him and sticks. Eddie bristles beneath the attention but tries not to show it. His eyes remind Eddie of the perfect crema atop an espresso and damn if not he’s a sucker for brown-eyed boys. It’s a curse.
The man offers a smirk. “You must be the enigmatic barista I hear so much about. I’m Steve. Good to meet you, man. Robin and Henderson yammer on about your lattes all the time.”
“Tis I, Eddie, a humble barkeep, at your service,” Eddie says with a flourish of his free hand and a slight bow. “Pleasure's all mine. What can I get you?”
Steve’s lips quirk slightly. “Just a black coffee.”
“A black coffee?” Robin laments. “Steve, he makes, literally, I am not joking, the best latte in a four-mile radius, easy.”
“It’s true!” Will calls from the table and waves. “Hey, Steve!”
“Hey, man! Like the new haircut.”
Will, the most quiet of the bunch, blushes but reaches up to touch at his hair with a shy smile. The others say hi, as well, Lucas yammering something frankly unintelligible about basketball, a language which Steve seems to understand and speak fluently. They’re all obviously well acquainted, but even though most of them are consistent regulars and have been for a while, Eddie realizes he doesn’t actually know how they all met. Robin and Steve are at least a few years older than the the Party.
Everyone seems to have gotten distracted, so Eddie waggles Dustin’s drink at him, and once he takes it, Eddie leans forward, elbows on top of the bar, and says, “So, black coffee, or are you caving?”
Steve turns back towards him and leans forward, as well, as if they’re conspiring. Conspiring to give Eddie a heart attack. God, he’s so attractive, and its been a while for Eddie, so the attraction feels even more brutal.
“Fine, fine. A latte, then. Plain. I’m not into sugary drinks.”
Eddie grins. He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes rove over his face. “I got you.”
“Is he an NPC?” Robin asks sweetly, ignoring Steve’s confused glance in her direction.
Eddie feels heat rise to his cheeks but can’t stop himself from winking at her.
“Why are you even here?” Robin asks when Eddie’s steaming milk. “I thought you were staying by… what’s her name? There are so many of them, they run together in my head.”
“There are not, and her name is Kim,” Steve says, a smile in his voice, and Eddie thinks, damn, another beautiful straight man off limits.
“Yes, Kim. Such a sultry name.”
“You’re just pissed off because she’s your type.”
“She is,” Robin whines. “The hats. Are you sure she’s not queer?”
“Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’m going to tell Vickie about how completely uncommitted you are and that you’re lusting after other women.”
“Okay, no one cares about either of your love lives,” Dustin interrupts, still standing there. “So, are you playing? There’s still time for us to fit you in.”
Steve groans. “Henderson, can’t a man enjoy what is supposed to be an orgasmic latte in peace after being broken up with? I’m mourning, here.”
Dustin looks decidedly unimpressed. “First, gross. Second, sorry for your loss but also you’re full of shit, you didn’t even like her that much. Third, are you seriously bailing again?”
Steve looks legitimately guilty at that. “Yes, but next weekend, I’m all yours. I promise. I swear on Dart, I will be there.”
Dustin gasps just as Eddie turns around to hand Steve his drink. He looks horrified. “If you bail after swearing on my dog, Steven Harrington, I will end your life.”
“I would never do that to Dart!” Steve declares heatedly. “Next week. I will be here at 9am with my fucking character sheet all prepped. You’re buying my coffee that day.”
“It’s a deal.” Dustin bats his lashes. “I’ve gotta get back, say bye before you leave.”
Steve waves him away and then rolls his eyes.
“You let him bully you into it, so I don’t want to hear a single word,” Robin mutters, leveling Steve with a glare. “For the next week, it’s $5 in the jar if you complain about Daggers and Dickheads.”
“Oh, that’s a new one, nice,” Steve says and offers her a high-five, which she gladly accepts.
“The jar?” Eddie asks.
“Robin made a jar,” Steve begins on a sigh.
She elbows him. “Yes, a jar that Steve deposits money into whenever he lets the Nerd Brigade over there con him into doing things for them. Which is literally all of the time. They are grown children now, Steve. You’re not their babysitter anymore.”
“I was never their babysitter,” Steve corrects, “officially.” He takes a sip of the latte and Eddie feels a warmth bloom in his chest when the other man’s eyes widen and he licks his lips. “Holy shit, this is good. Is that cinnamon?”
Eddie grins, something light and bubbly creeping into his chest. “Can’t give out the family secrets. How do you all know each other, anyway?”
“Robin and I went to school with Will and Mike’s older siblings.”
“It was before your time, and also, it’s much more complicated than that,” Robin says, rolling her eyes. “Think small town drama, Eddie.”
“This is a small town,” Steve deadpans. “In fact, it is the small town filled with said drama you speak of.”
Robin presses her open palm into Steve’s face and shoves him away so she can lean towards Eddie. “Shut up, you ass, you’re ruining the ambiance of my narrative.” She pulls her hand back before Steve can lick it, which he was definitely going to do, tongue peeking out.
Jesus Christ, Eddie thinks and tears his gaze away from Steve’s mouth before either of them notice.
“Steve dated Mike’s older sister,” Robin continues, “Nancy, for a while. Even though he knew I had a giant crush on her. Then Nancy stepped all over his heart and started dating Will’s older brother. It’s all very incestuous.“
Steve grimaces. “Gross.”
“But you still kept hanging out with their younger siblings?” Eddie asks on a chuckle.
“That sounds like judgement, but hey, Nancy and I are friends now, and plus, I’m an only child, so sue me. Also, I obviously attract the immature crowd.” He gestures to Robin. “Exhibit A.”
She gets in Steve’s face, scrunching her nose with that shit-eating grin she gets sometimes that Eddie positively loves. “You fuckin’ love it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbles, but he’s smiling. “What about you, Eddie? You from around here?”
“I lived here for a bit as a kid, moved away, then came back and finished my last year of high school here.”
“Did you go to Hawkins High? What year did you graduate?”
“It was the year of our lord, 2010.”
“You graduated with Robin?” Steve’s faced is scrunched up like he’s doing math in his head. Robin pats him gently as if to say don’t hurt yourself. “I know I was a year ahead, but why don’t I remember you?”
“Definitely didn’t run in the same crowd as Buckley here.”
Robin grins. “He ran more in Jonathan’s crowd but with a lot of leather and ripped jeans.”
Steve eyebrows inch up. “So you smoked a lot of weed and were in a rock band?”
“Still in a band, big boy,” Eddie says and winks at Steve, whose eyebrows jump up now. ”I also run this coffee shop with my uncle. It was this shitty little dive and he was barely making enough to live on, so I polished it up so I could serve fancy coffee and blast metal music for the children.”
“That explains the eclectic music,” Steve says, his smile turning playful and in Eddie’s direction.
Damn, Eddie thinks wistfully.
The door opens again and a redhead carrying a helmet under one arm walks in, hair in a frizzy braid over her right shoulder. She’s wearing a serious, don’t fuck with me expression.
“Hey, Max,” all three of them say in greeting despite the spectacular RBF and then grin.
“Steve, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here,” Max says by way of her own greeting, ruffling his hair as she passes. “It’s been a while.”
“If I knew you worked here, Mayfield, I’d have visited sooner.”
Max rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, a tiny, pleased thing. Interesting, Eddie thinks. Max, his favorite employee even though he’d never admit it (to the others, he tells her all the time), doesn’t smile often, so the fact that Steve gets one right off the bat is surprising, frankly. It means he’s probably a decent person. Ugh.
“We’ve all definitely told you before.” Robin rolls her eyes, too. “All beauty, no brains. It’s just empty beneath that amazing hair.”
Steve levels her with an unimpressed glare.
“Hi, Max!” Lucas calls from the corner.
Max looks at him, her cheek flush slightly, and she ducks into the back without otherwise acknowledging him.
“Is that still happening?” Steve says, wide eyed. “They’re still not dating yet? They have to be dating. I’ve been operating like they’ve been dating!”
Robin throws her head back and cackles. “You’re supposed to have game! How are you so bad at this!”
Steve presses the heels of his palm against his eyes. “Dear lord, I feel like they’ve been playing romance chicken since middle school and the way Lucas talks about her—”
Steve and Robin continue to bicker back and forth about the nuances of small-town dating. Eddie listens for a bit, and then when a few other customers come in, he steps away to make drinks and chit chat.
As much as he hated Hawkins as an angry, jaded teen, he doesn’t mind it so much now. The town’s changed a lot in the last decade. Sure, he gets called slurs here and there, but he experienced shit like that in Chicago, too. The positives outweigh the negatives, these days. He’s found a niche group of friends; he plays guitar and sings at the same bar, now spruced up and popular, that he used a shitty fake ID to get into as a kid; he has his uncle Wayne, who is literally the most important person to him. It would be great if there was more of a gay dating pool, but Eddie likes his life right now. He keeps glancing over at the back of the cafe, where Robin and Steve are sitting with their heads close together like they’re conspiring, where the Party, to their right, are vibrating as something intense in their campaign happens, and yeah. It’s nice. He feels like he’s in a sitcom sometimes, it’s so nice.
Max glides out from the back, tying her black apron, as a group of teenage goth girls come in. They’re regulars and love to bat their eyelashes at Eddie. Max gives him a little smirk before going to take their order so Eddie doesn’t have to.
I love you, he mouths.
“Hey, Eddie!” Robin calls suddenly, waving her cell in the air, so he walks back over to them.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
She bats her eyelashes. “You’re coming tonight, right? Vickie is asking.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m in. You know I can’t say no to Vickie.”
Robin rolls her eyes but is obviously pleased. She turns to Steve. “What about you, ya sad sack? You got dumped. Come party with us at the Hideout later.”
Steve shrugs. “I mean, yeah, why not.”
Robin loops an arm around Steve’s necks and tugs him towards her so she can nuzzle the side of his face with her nose and Steve acts all put out but lets her do it anyway. His smile is smug and exasperated all at the same time, like this is what he was going for but doesn’t want Robin to know it.
Their easy companionship is nice. Comforting, even, and Eddie’s a little jealous because he’s never quite had a friend like this. Chrissy, the reformed cheerleader and best friend, likes to hug and doesn’t shy away from touching him, but it’s not the same as this uninhabited adoration. Has anyone ever adored him as much as Steve and Robin seem to adore each other? He doesn’t think so. He feels the void, suddenly and intensely. Fuck.
“Eddie, do you want us to pick you up?”
He blinks back to the present moment and looks at Robin, who’s looking back at him with a bright grin, and Steve, who is studying him with an unreadable expression before he turns to scowl at Robin.
“Did you just invite me to be your designated driver, you asshole?”
“No, I invited you so Eddie doesn’t have to be the third wheel.”
Eddie chuckles. “Joke’s on you, babe, because you’re most definitely the third wheel to me and Vickie.”
Robin sighs dramatically. “This is true. I guess you’re coming so I’m not the third wheel.”
Steve laughs, but he looks back at Eddie with that expression and Eddie reminds himself, straight man, this is a straight man, pump the brakes, Munson.
“So, ride?” Steve asks him.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, even though he can absolutely just drive himself. “I can meet you at your place, though, if that’ll make it easier.”
“It’s a date!” Robin sing-songs.
“Nat 20, baby!” Dustin yells suddenly, causing them all to jump, and then stands to do a jig while the others laugh at him.
A few other customers look in their direction with confusion, and sure, he should say something about not being a disturbance, but Eddie just leans forward, elbow on the bar and chin in his palm, and grins.
“They’ve got you, too, huh?” Steve asks, angled towards Eddie with a slight quirk to his lips.
Eddie likes the beauty marks on Steve’s his face. He doesn’t say that, though. “Yeah, I think so. What kind of sane business owner would allow a bunch of nerds to scare away other paying customers?”
The playful expression on Steve’s face softens. “A good one. Thanks for tolerating them.”
“Listen, I wasn’t joking when I said I’d play,” Eddie says with a laugh. “I am just trying to ingratiate myself into their ranks so that I, too, may save the orc cheerleader, save the world.”
Robin leans forward, temple pressing to Steve’s so some of her hair gets in his face. “You’re both huge dorks, did you know that?”
“Robin secretly wants to play, she just doesn’t want to admit it to them,” Steve stage whispers and then makes an ooph sound when Robin elbows him in the stomach.
Eddie bounces on his toes a bit. “Imagine if all three of us played.”
Robin shakes her head. “Nope. Leave me out of it.”
“I bet Vickie would play,” Eddie and Steve say at the same time. The grin Steve directs at him is nothing short of wolfish. Eddie’s heart does a little bit of a flip.
“Oh, fuck my life,” Robin moans. “I never should have introduced the two of you.”
Eddie counts the beauty marks on Steve’s face, focuses on the ones that litter his cheek, and he has to agree.
__________________
Eddie’s never been to Robin’s apartment before. Sure, they have hung out more the last month or so, but it’s usually at bars and venues, and they go late enough that popping back to someone’s place isn’t really necessary. He’s not sure if the vibe would have made sense before meeting Steve and watching the two of them interact, though. There’s an eclectic mix of furniture and art, but more than anything, the place is cluttered as fuck and super lived in. It feels the way Robin and Steve’s relationship feels, tangled and cozy and all over the place.
Eddie feels a bit mismatched with the vibe even though the vibe is decidedly mismatched. He’s in black jeans and a black shirt with his rings and chains and Chucks, and he’s got his hair pulled back into a messy bun because he plans to dance. He even threw on a bit of eyeliner, because it’s a Saturday night and he know he looks good as fuck with a bit of black smudged around his eyes.
Eddie rocks on his heels, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jean jacket as he surveys the wall of photos hung in mismatched frames. There are pictures of Robin and Steve in high school, both dressed in these weird sailor outfits and making dumb faces; pictures of them with the Party and other people he doesn’t really know, and it’s strange to see Dustin and the others as literal children when he knows them only as kind-of adults; more pictures of the Robin and Steve, smooshed into view during chaotic selfies; pictures of Robin and Vickie and both of them with Vickie.
Eddie notices there are no pictures of Steve with anyone that screams romantic partner, though. Interesting. Robin had kind of insinuated he was a bit of a ladies’ man.
He glances ove his shoulder when he hears footsteps. Steve enters the living room, hair perfect and clad in tight blue jeans and a dark t-shirt. He looks casual in the most devastating way. Eddie wishes he weren’t so affected by pretty boys, but he’s got the Breakfast Club complex down to an art form.
He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes travel over him, down then back up again, eyebrows arching.
“I don’t shame and I’ll never complain about a nice pair of short shorts,” Eddie says conversationally, trying not to stare at Steve, “but what the fuck is with the sailor uniforms? They look familiar but I can’t place ‘em.”
Steve chuckles and rubs at the back of his neck. “Rob and I worked at Scoops Ahoy for a summer.”
“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, stimming in place for a moment by tapping his feet and fluttering his fingers. He’s nearly embarrassed about it, but Steve is watching him with a perplexed and kind of fond smile, eyes lingering on Eddie’s wiggling fingers. “I forgot about that fuckin’ place.”
“I wish I could forget about it, but then again, that’s the summer Rob and I became friends, so I can’t shit on it too much. I will say, I couldn’t eat ice cream for a while after working there.”
“But then we moved on to Family Video,” Robin says as she flounces back into the room, Vickie on her heel this time.
Steve grins wide. “My post-graduation purgatory.”
“Eddie!” Vickie reaches up and pinches both of his cheeks. She smells citrusy and her freckled cheeks are dusted in shimmery, peachy blush. “So glad you’re coming out.”
Eddie winks at her. “You know I can’t say no to 80s music.”
“Oh god, we’re seeing the 80s cover band?” Steve groans, then spins to face his roommate. “Robin, you promised!”
She rolls her eyes with a decidedly over it expression. “It’s Sixteen Candles, not Hairbanger’s Ball! Calm your tits, Harrington.”
“Uh, what’s wrong with glam metal?” Eddie demands, pressing a hand to his chest. He is very aware of Hairbanger’s Ball and loves that pure 80s rock energy. The lead singer has a very Axl Rose look, big hair and all. “Steve, don’t break my heart. We just met.”
Steve actually flushes a little bit, a delicate pink across his cheekbones, and Eddie feels his insides twist up. God, the man is so stupidly attractive and earnest, and Eddie’s losing this crush battle.
“There’s nothing wrong with it. I just prefer 80s pop music.”
“You can debate 80s music trends in the car. Time to vogue, bitches. Let’s go!” Robin marches for the door, grabbing Vickie and twirling and kissing her on the way.
“I can’t believe you don’t like hairbands,” Eddie bemoans as they follow the two women out of the apartment. “I thought we had a connection, man.”
“Change my mind, then,” Steve says with a smile that makes Eddie want to die a little bit.
Robin and Vickie pile into the backseat of Steve’s car, which means Eddie doesn’t even need to call shotgun. Steve doesn’t put on music, just listens to Robin and Vickie talk, occasionally interjecting. He’s got his left arm draped along the seam of the open window, his hair billowing slightly in the humid breeze.
Robin makes eye contact with Eddie in the rearview mirror and grins. He sticks his tongue out at her and gets crossed eyes and a duckface in return.
It’s a Saturday night and Sixteen Candles is a pretty popular Hawkins cover band, so the Hideout is packed. They slither through the throng of bodies until they get to the bar, and Steve orders their first round. Eddie waves them over to a small table with a reserved sign.
“You’re a fucking saint,” Robin says and tugs at a loose curl of his before she sits down.
Eddie waggles his eyebrows at her and follows suit after pulling out Vickie’s chair and pushing it in with gusto once she sits. “Gotta take advantage when you can.”
Steve looks at him expectantly as they both take their seats. He’s angled towards Eddie, back to the stage.
“My band plays here,” Eddie explains with a shrug.
“Barkeep, musician, eyeliner aficionado. So many hats.”
Eddie laughs and he’s glad that it’s dim in the bar because he know he’s blushing, but he’s really fucking glad he wore the eyeliner. “You have no idea. Ed of all trades.” Steve barks out a laugh. “What about you? I actually don’t think I know what you do.”
“I’m a counselor at the college,” Steve says.
“So you really do just surround yourself with nerdy freshman constantly.”
Steve looks like he’s fighting a smile but flips him off.
Eddie chuckles and takes a big drink of his beer.
They all chat for a bit, and it’s nice. Really nice. Eddie likes the way Robin and Vickie pull him into conversation so he doesn’t feel the need to edge his way in, the way Robin keeps touching his upper arm when she makes a point or leans against him when she laughs. He likes the way Steve’s ankle hits his when he stretches his legs out under the table and doesn’t move, stays pressed there. He likes the way Vickie reaches across the table and grabs at his hands when he says something she finds hilarious. Eddie thinks he might burst with contentment.
“Eddie!”
Eddie turns at his name and then breaks out into a wide smile. “Dollface!” He gets up to swoop the blonde woman standing behind him into a hug. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight!”
“My flight got postponed to tomorrow, so I figured I might as well enjoy my weekend, and my friend Abby likes this band.” She turns to offer Vickie and Robin a wave. “Hey! Good to see you both. Thanks for keeping Eddie in line lately.” She finally notices Steve and her eyebrows shoot up. “And Steve Harrington, oh my god! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Hey, Chrissy,” Steve says easily, smiling up at her. His eyes flick to Eddie for a moment, but don’t linger. “Long time no see.”
Chrissy offers him a beautiful smile, because it’s impossible for Chrissy to look anything but positively radiant and lovely, but then she looks at Eddie with an expression that he knows all too well: date? Eddie gives a minute shake of his head and Chrissy pouts for a moment before she schools her expression. “It’s really great to see you all. We should totally get drinks sometime, catch up, since you’re adopting this dork.” She tugs on Eddie’s ponytail fondly. “I’m going to find Abby, but I’ll pop back over after the set ends.”
“She’s so cute,” Robin says as Eddie sits back down, making grabby hands. “I just want to squish her.”
Steve tilts his head. “I didn’t realize you were friends with Chrissy Cunningham.”
“Best friends, actually,” Eddie corrects and grins. “Every metalhead’s gotta have a preppy friend, it's written in the bylaws, and Chrissy’s mine.”
Before Steve can reply, the lights dim, signaling the start of the show. Vickie is on her feet immediately and dragging Eddie out into the rest of the crowd. He likes dancing with Vickie at shows. She’s usually the chiller one in the Vickie-Robin dynamic, except when she dances, then she matches Eddie’s chaotic energy and screams along to the music, her face scrunched up in to a delightful grin. By the time he’s got stray curls sticking to the sweat on his neck, Vickie is fanning herself with her hat, her short copper curls damp and messy, but doesn’t let it stop her.
Eddie catches glimpses of Steve and Robin, who are now sitting next to each other, heads angled together as they watch Eddie and Vickie. Eddie tries not to feel self conscious about it, wouldn’t if it was just Robin watching them with an exasperated, fond smile.
Pat Benatar’s We Belong comes on, and Eddie forgets about Steve because he grabs Vickie’s hands and serenades her, twirling her this way and that while she laughs, delighted.
When (I Just) Died in Your Arms comes on, Robin scrambles into the crowd -- that one always gets her -- dragging Steve with her, and plows into the two of them as she sings along with the first line.
Steve is laughing, the corners of his eyes creasing as he sways back and forth. He grins at Eddie over Robin and Vickie’s heads. All four of them stay out there for the remainder of the set, the two women wrapped up in each other as they giggle and dance and whisper into each other's ear, and Eddie tries not to feel self-conscious with Steve next to him, tries not to let himself enjoy the music less because he’s worried about being too silly. Steve doesn’t get into as much as he does, but he belts along to Journey as the loud as the rest of them.
When the set it over, all four of them are sweaty and out of breath. Eddie gets them another round of beers and waters, and while he’s waiting at the bar, Chrissy slides next to him and beams up at him, her blonde hair pulled into a high pony now.
“You look like you’re having fun,” she says cheekily. “Steve Harrington, huh?”
“He’s Robin’s roommate,” Eddie explains with a roll of his eyes. “Knock it off with that matchmaker brain of yours. It’s never worked before. Your gaydar is terrible.”
Chrissy turns, elbows on the bar, and surveys the crowd. “I don’t think I even need to do anything. He’s totally watching you.”
“Oh god, stop, he is not,” Eddie laughs. “Jim, can you get this pain in my ass another beer? Put it on my tab. Thanks, man.”
The bartender adds a fifth beer, which Eddie shoves at Chrissy.
“Payment for your continued silence on the subject,” he says.
She gets up on her tip toes and kisses him on the cheek. “I make no promises.”
He leans down and kisses her back, a wet one right on her cheekbone that makes her groan and rub at her face. “Uh huh. You’re a fuckin’ trouble maker, Cunningham. You have a safe way home?”
“Yep, I’m good. Go get him, tiger!” She throws him a rock and roll salute, tongue peeking out, before she disappears back into the crowd.
“Didn’t even help me carry drinks,” Eddie grumbles and he’s about to flag Jim down for a tray when someone’s elbow bumps into his.
Steve’s standing to his right, one eyebrow raised and a quirk to his lips. “Need help? Or are you an expert juggler on top of all the other things you do?”
Eddie snorts. “A juggler? No, I’m uncoordinated at fuck outside of coffee slinging and guitar playing, Steve,” he manages, and together, they carry the beers and bottles of water back to the table.
They’re at the Hideout late, but Steve doesn’t drink past the second beer, just nurses it while they all talk and laugh and Robin fills them in about an art installation that’s going to be at the Upside Down Art Galley where she works. She’s super excited for it. It’s by the sheriff’s daughter, she explains, a strange, brilliant, artistic girl who paints some crazy shit — alternate, demonic dimensions, monsters, strange messages.
“And they’re really going to show that?” Eddie asks, wide eyed and a little giddy. “In Hawkins?”
“Yep! It’s on the calendar and the paperwork’s signed. No one can back out.”
“Metal as fuck. I wanna go.”
Robin leans forward on the table, chin on her knuckles. “You can be Steve’s date. He’s got a plus one now that he and…. whatever the fuck her name is broke up.”
Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. Next to Robin, Vickie grins.
“I, uh, don’t want to— that’s, like, a few months from now—“
“Don’t wanna be my date?” Steve interjects. He’s wearing a smirk, a challenging little thing, and god, Eddie really is fucked. He’s known the guy for less than 24 hours and he’s already got a raging crush that is just snowballing like a goddamned avalanche.
“Well, it’s a date, then,” Eddie says on a dramatic, put-out sigh, hoping it hides the fact that he’s a little breathless.
Steve just smiles.
They close out and Robin and Vickie sing along to the radio in the car. Eddie presses his cheek to the cool glass and smiles, eyes closed, and he must doze off, because he jolts awake to the touch of fingers on the back of his hand.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Steve says gently.
“Thanks for the ride, Prince Charming.” He yawns and twists in his seat to wave at Robin and Vickie, reaching over to ruffle Vickie’s frizzy curls, allows Robin to reach forward to ruffle his bangs, and then gets out of the car.
Steve winks before he drives off.
__________________
Eddie doesn’t work Sundays, leaves that day to Wayne and Max who work well together in their grumpy silences, so he spends the day doing what he normally does: sleeps in stupidly late, does some laundry, eats cereal straight out of the box (milk? Gross), and reads fantasy novels in his underwear. He responds to some texts from Chrissy, Robin, and his bandmates, and overall just melts into the feeling of having nothing to do and no one to see.
He only thinks about Steve Harrington’s beauty marks a little bit.
It’s futile, he knows. He’s almost positive that Steve’s just one of those very chill, painfully friendly straight dudes. Their paths in high school never crossed, but Chrissy calls him after a few information-gathering texts and happily chatters away, filling Eddie in on stories of Hawkins High’s King Steve: a chick magnet and serial dater after getting his heart broken by Nancy Wheeler, who then apparently turned into the Pied Piper for a group of nerdy kids who now play DND in Eddie’s coffee shop.
Chrissy’s not really sure who or what Steve does these days because they run in different circles, but Robin had definitely said a femme-sounding name at the coffee shop and never indicated that Steve was into dudes, so. Ipso facto…
There was a little flirting, sure, but Eddie thinks maybe he’s seeing things he wants to see, not what’s there, and if that’s the case, he needs to cut it the fuck out. Like any self-respecting gay man, he’s crushed on a straight friend or two before, but that happens to people in in high school, maybe in their early twenties. Not when you’re closer to thirty than twenty and run a business and don’t have the emotional wherewithal to deal with getting your heart broken in an unrequited love situation. Plus, he can’t make it weird. He can’t. It’s hard to make gay friends in Hawkins, and he’ll be damned if he loses Robin and Vickie, who have been talking his ear off about going to see a midnight showing of Rocky Horror in Indianapolis.
He doesn’t expect to see any of them on Monday, which makes him feel both relieved and bereft, but he’s making some Starbucks-inspired pink drink for a college kid with exceptionally pink hair when Steve walks in with bedhead and sleepy eyes, Dustin trailing behind him and talking about Star Wars.
“Hey, Eddie!” Dustin says excitedly when he catches Eddie’s eye.
“Hey, Henderson.” Eddie flicks his gaze towards Steve, who’s giving him that smile, fuuuuck. “And Steve Harrington. Here for a black coffee?”
Dustin holds his hand in front of Steve’s face before he can reply. “He’s not here for anything. I’m here to talk to you about DND.”
Steve tilts his head a bit so they can make eye contact again and waggles his brows. Eddie tries not to choke on his own spit as he hands the pink-haired woman her pink drink. “Here you go, have a great one. What about DND?”
“If we move it to the evening, do you want to join on Saturday?”
Eddie makes a face. “Unfortunately, m’lord, I have a show Saturday night.”
Dustin raises his brows. “Sunday?”
“You want me to spend my Sunday off playing DND?” Eddie laughs just as Steve says, “I didn’t agree to Sunday!”
“Well?” Dustin asks, his face breaking into a grin. “Are you in?”
Eddie looks at Steve. He’s rolling his eyes dramatically like this is the most put out he’s ever been, but he’s definitely fighting a smile and Eddie barely knows him but he can just tell that Steve is going to go along with it and then spend the week stuffing $5 bills into the jar. He should say no, should work as hard as possible to squash this crush while he’s got the chance, but they’re both looking at him expectantly, Dustin all crinkly-eyed and Steve chewing at his bottom lip with both of his hands on his hips, and fuck.
“I guess the Bard Formerly Known as Wayne can make an appearance,” he says, and it’s worth it to see the pure joy and excitement spread over Dustin’s face.
“The Bard Formerly Known as Wayne?”
Eddie laughs. “Dude, Wayne thinks it’s the funniest fucking thing. He helped me with the character design years ago.”
“I cannot fucking wait!” the kid all but squeals.
Steve doesn’t say anything, just watches him intently.
Eddie can feel his cheeks flush a bit and swats at the air in front of Dustin’s face to try to dissipate some of the tension that apparently only he feels. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited. Maybe you can, you know, buy something. Support my business for my trouble. You want your usual?”
“Yeah, that would be great. You fuckin’ rock, Eddie.”
Eddie rolls his eyes and glances at Steve again. “And you, kind sir? Black coffee?”
“Oh, no,” Steve says easily, leaning against the counter and smirking. “I’ve been converted to your lattes. And Henderson’s buying, since he decided to oh-so-graciously change plans without consulting literally anyone else.” He elbows Dustin playfully while the kid’s texting. “You better hope the rest of the the Party is available, asshole.”
Dustin nearly fumbles his phone. “I’m telling them now!”
Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest. “The Party?” he manages to get out.
Steve runs a hand through his hair and chuckles, a bit sheepishly, like he’s been caught red-handed. “It’s what I call the kids. You know, some nerd humor for the nerds.”
Eddie just stares.
Steve cocks his head to the side, a lock of hair falling into his face. “What?”
“That’s what I call them,” Eddie says stupidly, and god, he’s definitely blushing now. “In my head. The, uh, Party.”
Steve blinks at him owlishly, not responding immediately, so Eddie turns around and starts making their drinks. He listens to Steve and Dustin bicker, forces himself not to look because goddamnit, he’s supposed to not be crushing on the pretty straight man who is best friends with his new gay friend. He already made up his mind. Steve fucking Harrington is off limits but he's making it reaaaal difficult.
He makes both of their drinks before he hands them over. Steve looks up from his phone and cocks an eyebrow. Hell, his eyes are pretty. Eddie tears his gaze away from them and settles it on Henderson. “Cash or card, young padawan?”
Dustin snorts and digs out his wallet before handing Eddie a credit card. “I’ll let you know where we’ll meet up, Master Jedi.”
Steve groans against the lip of his coffee cup. “You’re both such dorks. And there’s no way we’re all fitting in your dorm, Henderson, and Robin will kill me if I pack you all into the apartment.”
“My place,” Eddie blurts out and nearly slaps his hand over his own mouth, but catches himself just in time to add, calmly, “I can host. Apartment all to myself.”
“This is going to be the best!” Dustin says and fist pumps while doing a little tap dance. “Eddie, did I mention you fuckin’ rock?”
Steve says nothing, just stares at him calculatingly while he sips his latte.
Eddie wants to sink into the floor, but he doesn’t. He chats with them a few more minutes before customers trail in, and then he stares lasers into Steve’s back when he and Dustin leave.
youre hosting the gremlins at your place? Robin texts him later when he’s at home, feet on the coffee table and aching from ten hours in his Chucks. He’s getting too old for this, should probably get some orthotics or something, but the aesthetic.
He replies that yes, he is, to which Robin says: what a dumb idea, thanks for being fabulous. steve and dustin wont shut up about how nice you areeee
She follows the text up with a bunch of kissy and nerd face emojis. Eddie sinks into the couch and drops his phone so he can pull his hair in front of his face and then press the heels of his palms into his eyes.
__________________
The week is dragging more than usual. It’s gray outside, the low clouds never quite dissipating after the weekend rain, and Eddie hates it. He’s a bad metalhead, definitely prefers the sunshine even though he burns like a lobster. It’s how he knows he could never live in Seattle. The gray seeps into his mood, into his bones, until he’s dragging and heavy.
So he focuses on the little things because there are a lot of them. A lot of small, tiny ways in which his life is brilliantly bright without the sunshine.
For example: Max, who isn't the most social of butterflies, stays late talking to him about speakers on Wednesday because she’s learning guitar. She clocks out and then just lingers behind the counter, nodding intently as Eddie yammers on.
Mike and Lucas spend a bit of time at the cafe on Thursday, both studying for some philosophy test and looking up bad philosophical jokes on their phones to tell Eddie in an effort to see who can make him laugh louder.
Dustin pops in randomly with Will to talk to Eddie about his character sheet, and his excitement is infectious, gives Eddie that boost he needs to make it through the end of his shift.
His bandmates Gareth, Jeff, and Tom show up on Friday, solidifying their set list at the corner of the bar while Eddie make drinks.
The truly magical part of his week isn’t a specific day, though, but a few of them, when Robin stops in randomly for short bursts of time, a tornado of fast talking and paisley and floral print. She’s busy with a WWII art installation that’s upcoming in a few weeks and can never stay for long, but Eddie realizes that she doesn’t even get coffee two of the four times she comes in, which makes something warm curl through him because it means she just ways to say hi. She just wants to stop in to see Eddie. Chrissy doesn’t even do that, these days, too busy to make time. Vickie comes by, too, once with Robin and once on her own, and fuck, Eddie feels like such a sentimental loser, getting all worked up over having friends, but he holds onto the feeling. He’s been trying to be less judgey about his own emotions lately, so he forces himself to sit with it. To appreciate.
To not dwell on the fact that Steve didn’t come by again, because why would he? They’d only just met, and he hadn’t been a regular in the first place.
Eddie thinks about him, though, against his better judgement.
The show on Saturday is fucking amazing and everything he needs to drag him fully out of the grayness. The Hideout is packed, and most of them aren’t there to see Corroded Coffin, but a lot of them rock out, anyway. The adrenaline of performing thrums through Eddie, sinks into his bones. There’s something about being on stage, sweating under bright lights with guitar in hand and throat burning while he belts out lyrics, that really punches through him, makes him feel alive even when life feels dull and stagnant. It hasn’t felt dull, not lately, but performing still feels like a balm for the seeping sadness he feels sometimes, soothes over any of the rough edges that are beginning to become noticeable.
He’s still riding the high after their set as he and the boys are elbowing their way to the bar when he sees them.
Robin and Vickie are just fucking beaming at him, both of them wearing Corroded Coffin t-shirts, and next to them, leaning agains the bar looking casually devastating in a matching shirt, is Steve.
Eddie’s pulse had just started to come down, but it’s skyrocketed again at the sight.
“You were amazing!” Vickie squeals and throws her arms around him, not caring that Eddie is sweaty as fuck. “I can’t believe you’ve seen me perform half a dozen times but never invited me to one of your shows! And your voice, Eddie, come on!”
It’s difficult to tear his eyes away from Steve, but Eddie manages and grins down at her. “Metal’s not exactly your jam, doll, didn’t think you’d want to be here.”
“Are you joking?” Robin says, pressing up against Vickie’s back and reaching over her shoulder to ruffle Eddie’s sweaty bangs. “Your voice is amazing, and you’re like sex on wheels in those leather pants! No one’s going to give a shit what music you’re singing when you look and sound like that. And the guitar!” She fake swoons, knees buckling and hands gripping at Vickie’s shoulders to keep her upright.
“Robbie,” Vickie chastises, but she’s laughing. “You do look good in the pants, though.”
Eddie snorts. “True compliments coming from a bunch of lesbians. I didn’t know you all were going to be here. You should have told me.”
“And ruin the surprise?” Robin rolls her eyes.
“But how did you even know?”
“Steve said you mentioned it the other day.”
Eddie’s insides twist up in an expertly crafted knot and his heart makes a desperate attempt to beat out of his chest. The universe is cruel. He is trying so hard.
Robin and Vickie finally let him go, which allows Steve to step forward and hand him a beer. “Amazing fucking show, man. You’re stupidly talented. And they’re right.” His smile is slow and deliberate, brings out the creases at the corners of his eyes. “You do look good in leather pants.”
He steps past Eddie and waves at his bandmates, introducing himself and offering to buy them all a round, too. The guys swarm him immediately, laughter and thanks as Steve compliments their set.
Eddie takes a big gulp of his beer. Robin gives him a look, a crooked little smile, and Eddie gets the impression that she knows he’s crushing on Steve. She doesn’t push it, though, doesn’t tease like Chrissy would, just loops an arm through his and says, “So how hard is it to get out of those?”
“It’s a nightmare,” he answers seriously, and she laughs, nose scrunching.
“You can wear them when we go see Rocky Horror.”
He grins. “That’s a great fucking idea.”
There’s a deep laugh followed by Vickie’s very memorable giggle, and Eddie glances to his left. Steve’s got an arm looped around Vickie’s shoulders, and they’re listening intently to a story Gareth is telling about the time Jeff spewed on stage after chugging a forty-ounce on a dare right before the show. Eddie remembers it unfondly. Several people near the stage pity-vomited and it was a nightmare.
“Steve was the Keg King in high school,” Vickie says. “I’m sure there's video of him projectile vomiting into his parents’ pool.”
“Vickie,” Steve warns, but he’s grinning sheepishly. “She’s right, though, there totally is.”
Robin laughs and leans back so she can see them around Eddie. “Yeah, I still have it on my computer! It’s in the cloud, baby. I’m going to play it at our next high school reunion.”
There’s a lot of laughter and bickering. Tom didn’t go to school with them, but Jeff and Gareth did, so he gets to sit back and listen to ridiculous stories of the ways in which all of his current friends used to hate each other in high school. Eddie clutches his beer, feeling overwhelmed with how perfect this all feels.
__________________
Eddie didn’t stay out late and only had a few beers, but he feels like the walking dead when he drags himself out of bed the next morning. Even though it’s not nearly as early as his normal alarm time, it’s still too early for his Sunday routine and he’s still not quite sure why he agreed to host DND here. Well, he knows. Dustin had been so excited, and Steve had been watching him, and Eddie has always been a bit of a push over.
He thinks about it, fuzzy and grumpy and regretting all of his life choices, while he makes coffee and makes sure his apartment is clean. He’s pretty sure a bunch of college freshmen aren’t going to judge him, and yet, his nerves still feel a bit frayed about it.
It’s nearing 11am, their meet-up time, and he’s on his third cup of coffee, when the doorbell sounds. He assumes it’s Dustin, because he would show up first, so he buzzes him in and opens the door to not Dustin, but Steve Harrington, clad in a mustard-yellow sweater and holding a few grocery bags.
“I smell coffee,” he says by way of greeting and waltzes into Eddie’s apartment.
“Yes, please, come in,” he mumbles and shuts the door behind him, then goes into the kitchen to pour Steve a cup of coffee. “What’s in the bags?”
“Snacks for Henderson and his minions,” Steve answers as he starts unloading bags of chips and some dip. “Remind me why I agreed to this.”
He saunters up to Steve and hands him the mug. “I was just pondering the same question before your arrival. That Henderson is hard to say no to. Assuming that’s why you’ve been tangled up in his shenanigans for years.”
Steve smirks. “Understatement of the century.”
“Thanks again, by the way,” Eddie says, leaning against the breakfast bar. “For coming to my show. Wasn’t expecting that.”
Steve’s smile is different, this time. Gentle and kind. He tries to hide it behind his mug, but he doesn’t quite manage it. “No thanks needed, man. It’s what friends do. We were happy to be there and had an awesome time. You were fucking great.”
It’s in that moment, with Steve gazing at him softly, that Eddie feels the determination slot into place. He’s going to shelve this dumb, high school crush. He is. He has to. He doesn’t know if he’s just seeing things, or if Steve’s flirting is legitimate or just the way he is with everyone, but Eddie does know that friends like these people are few and far between. Friends who invite him to play DND and are so fucking excited when he says yes, who visit him at his job just to see him, who buy shitty band merch and show up unasked to watch him perform — Eddie’s had a very limited number of friendships like that. Not even friendships. One friendship. Just Chrissy. Otherwise, he’s always felt like he existed on the fringes, was too weird to fit in easily, but here are these people, inviting him in without any fanfare.
Eddie smiles back. “Well, as long as you had a good time.”
“I really did,” Steve says. “Your bandmates are cool. I’m glad they didn’t hate me, I was a total dick in high school.”
Before Eddie can reply, the doorbell buzzes again. Steve groans and mutters, “So it begins.”
Dustin, Will, Mike, and Lucas bound up the stairs and into the apartment, already babbling. Dustin’s got a few boxes of donuts, which Steve immediately starts going through, and Will’s got a coffee cake that his mom Joyce made. Lucas throws several bags of candy on the counter and grins at Eddie. Mike wastes no time getting the table set up, arguing with Dustin about who should sit where, and Eddie just stands back and watches all of them, wondering how the hell he even got here.
He gets that feeling again, the same one from last night — a tightness in his chest that doesn’t feel like anxiety, but more like the comfortable pressure of a weighted blanket.
It’s fun— really fucking fun, and Eddie remembers why he loved playing DND so much. He’s allowed to shed the curated version of himself that’s fit for consumption in public and be absolutely batshit, so he throws himself into it. He’s not sure if the kids or Steve laugh more. He most definitely sings ridiculous shit for his attacks because he can’t play a bard and not sing, it’s sacrilegious, so he makes lyrics up as he goes based on what’s happening.
His performative bullshit helps Steve come out of his shell a bit, he thinks. Steve starts out a little quiet and by the end is asking if he can seduce the innkeeper for free room and board because he was pickpocketed in he town square.
They call it around 4pm and Eddie orders a few pizzas while the kids pile into his living room, fighting over the remote like they’re not all 18 or 19 year olds.
“Why do I have a feelings,” Steve says as he helps Eddie clean up, “that you’re gonna be bullied into playing every week and hosting.”
Eddie sighs dramatically. “I’ve already come to terms with it, man. I know it’s going to happen. I’m gonna be putting money in that fucking jar at this rate.”
Steve laughs, a bright and unrestrained sound. It makes Eddie's stomach all warm and fluttery.
“Also, I had fun,” Eddie admits with a shrug. “I’m an only child, too, ya know? Mostly has just been me and my uncle Wayne. This feels like healing my inner child a little bit. Sounds dumb but I don’t give a shit.”
Steve doesn’t make fun of him, though, like he expects. “My parents were never home when I was a kid. The Party used to play DND there, and Robin would sleep over. When they weren’t there, it was just this huge, empty house. Felt like a fucking museum.”
Eddie makes an oooooh noise that has Steve raising a brow.
“I get it now,” he says. “Why your apartment is so full of stuff.”
Steve actually blushes a bit. “Is it?”
“It’s not a bad thing, man. It’s lived in, has personality. When I walked in, I could tell you and Robin lived there and it was a fun, happy space.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair and then plants his hands on his hips, considering. “I never thought about it that way.”
“I’m full of surprises, my man,” he says with a wink before the buzzer sounds and he yells, “Pizza’s here!”
When the Party is finally leaving, Dustin stops at Eddie’s front door with an incredibly serious expression.
“Eddie,” he begins.
Next to him, Steve is fighting a smile and losing the battle as he mutters, “Here he goes.”
“We had a lot of fun tonight.”
“Are you breaking up with me, Henderson?”
Dustin sputters and Mike and Lucas laugh. Will, always the calm and collected one, shares a look with Steve.
“No! I— we were hoping— we want you to, like, keep playing DND with us. If you want. To be a regular part of the Party.”
Dustin is so fucking earnest, and the other three are looking at him expectantly, and Eddie feels warm and fuzzy and stupidly happy.
“I wouldn’t mind reprising my role,” he says, trying to seem chill and not like he’s excited as fuck.
“So we’re playing here again?” Steve asks and grins, wolfish. “Next Sunday?”
Four heads swivel towards Steve, then back to Eddie, but Dustin looks at Steve again. “Wait, you’re going to keep playing, too?”
Steve shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest so he can lean against the wall casually. “Yeah, why not.”
“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaims, and then he’s diving in to hug Steve, who smacks the back of his head on the wall when they make contact.
Steve looks annoyed for a second, and then it morphs into this gooey, fond smile that makes his eyes squint. He wrenches an arm out from between him and Dustin to tousle the kid’s hair. “Yeah, yeah, let’s not make a big deal about it.”
“You big softie,” Eddie mutters to Steve when they’re finally walking out of his place.
Steve tousles his hair the way he did to Dustin. “Pot, kettle.”
Eddie full body shivers and he doesn’t think Steve notices before he closes the door behind them.
Sundays. Every Sunday. With Steve Harrington. God help him.