the nature of touch

by leah_btw

Summary:

Eddie gives out touch so easily. Brushes Robin's hair from her face. Straightens Dustin's hat. Throws his arms around Nancy's shoulder before she laughs him off. He's tactile in a way that Steve could never be. In a way he hasn't been with Steve yet.

Steve doesn't remember the last time he's slept a full night soundly. The last few years have almost felt like a fever dream to him anyway. When it's not the insomnia keeping him up, blindly staring at infomercials with the volume at zero or home decor magazines that his mom leaves behind, it's the nightmares. 

 

The rolled back eyes of Nancy in the Upside Down. The clawing demobats at his neck as he gasps for air on a dried up Lover's Lake. The blackened veins of Billy Hargrove as he's possessed in the center of the Starcourt Mall. Dustin sobbing into a half dead Eddie Munson's shoulder after they'd all dragged him back to the Normal Plane.

 

It's a toss up how they'll leave him. Steve will wake sometimes in the dead of night, the red glow of his alarm clock twisting the shadows in his room. There's someone at the end of his bed. Some thing . A grotesque silhouette of a person with too long arms and an unnatural turn to their neck. Steve is always frozen in place and gasping for breath.

 

It's not real. It's not real. has become a mantra for him in those moments. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and attempts to steady his breath. Repeats the mantra again and again. Hears it in Robin's voice. In Nancy's voice. In Joyce Byers' voice. 

 

All the other times have him throwing his body out of bed in a blind panic. Leave him tangled in his blankets and sheets. He loses track of himself for these times and always comes to in the deepest part of his closet, chest heaving, gripping the nailed bat with white knuckles. It always takes him too long to unlock all his muscles, collect all his blankets, and retreat back into his bed.

 

He hasn't resorted to sleeping pills yet and has sworn off alcohol recently when Dustin got on his case about it. And he'd do just about anything for that kid.

 

Including picking him up from a D&D session at the school at 9:30pm on a Friday night. Not that Steve has anywhere to be on Friday nights anymore. 

 

But Dustin's no nonsense, "You're picking me up at 9:30 tonight, don't forget!" after Steve had muttered, "Harrington residence" into the line felt like a jab of some kind. Steve could have places to be. Ladies to woo. Videos to rent out. Dustin didn't know his schedule.

 

Except he definitely did. Steve's hours at Family Video were incredibly predictable. And Dustin knew he worked until 9 tonight. Knew that Steve would linger to chat with Robin some more before leaving her to close up shop. Knew that Steve had to drive by the school anyway on his way home.

 

And so there sat Steve, Robin's cackle echoing in his head while he had complained about picking up the Nerd Brigade.

 

I can see right through you, Harrington. You love that kid, she had said. 

 

All Steve could do was smile, sigh, and say, Yeah.

 

And so there Steve sat. At the drop off loop for the high school, underneath a lone street light so that Dustin could easily find him. It's dark out, but a summer night still. The sun was just setting behind him in a hue of pink and orange.

 

He's propped up against the driver’s side door, reminding himself that he quit smoking years ago. Could see the crinkle of Nancy's nose at the smell of it.

 

The front doors of the school slam open with a bang and out tumble the party. Erica is bickering with Lucas, arms crossed as he's holding his hands to his temples. Steve can see his exasperation from here and grins to himself. Max is busy yanking her skateboard from her bag, laughing at something Mike is blathering about with El under his shoulder. She doesn't play yet, but is happy enough to go along and watch.

 

Friends support friends , she had said in her lilting tone. And Steve couldn't argue with that.

 

Will's stuck at home for the night, sick beyond speech. The rest of the party was under oath to walk him through the session play by play. Steve knew that Dustin kept detailed enough notes that it wouldn't be difficult.

 

Last to stumble out are Dustin and Eddie. Dustin is trapped beneath the older boy's armpit getting a fist rubbed jokingly into his curls. Steve can hear Dustin's laugh from where he's standing, still so much like a kid despite his fifteenth birthday coming up soon. 

 

All Steve can see of Eddie's face is a scrunched up smile and a curtain of wavy brown hair.

 

Then Eddie gets shoved to the side when Dustin breaks free and raises his hands wide in surrender. His grin stretches his cheeks into dimples, permed hair blowing in the breeze a little, and Steve shuffles so he's fully standing at the sight. The sun behind Steve casts Eddie in a glow of orange.

 

They reach Steve soon enough.

 

"Steve!" Dustin shouts happily before running to his side. "We almost got him this time! Strahd doesn't stand a chance next session!"

 

"That's great, man," Steve says with as much enthusiasm someone can muster when they don't know what's happening.

 

A hand is slapped against his shoulder suddenly and Steve feels his skin erupt into flames. 

 

Eddie is gripping his shoulder like it's something they always do. Laughing enough to curl into Steve's space. Steve can smell the sweat of him, the sweet smell of weed, and his cologne. He smells like the cigarettes Steve’s been craving. Eddie's shoulder bag bangs against Steve's knee. Steve swears he hears the distinct sound of dice crinkling against themselves. 

 

It feels as if the world whirls around them both for a moment. All Steve can see is the lines of Eddie's smile. Can feel the pressure of all his silver rings against his shoulder. Feels his own breath freeze in his chest.

 

"Don't hurt yourself, Steve!" Eddie says breathless against Steve's cheek. Steve hears it in slow motion.

 

And as quickly as the hand is there, it's gone. Steve reminds himself that he has to breathe now. 

 

"I bid you all adieu!" Eddie bows dramatically to the group, tipping an invisible hat and spins around to his van in the parking lot. Max skates up quickly to the passenger side, shouting goodbyes to everyone on her way.

 

It takes Steve a minute to realize Dustin is still talking to him.

 

"–sunsword, Steve! Sunsword !"

 

It takes him less time to hear Erica Sinclair complain out the back window of his still running car.

 

"Hel lo , are we leaving anytime soon?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, patience is a virtue," Steve mutters, shoving Dustin by the forehead to the passenger side of his BMW. It doesn't stop him from talking. 

 

He throws the car into gear and speeds out into the night.

 

*

 

Steve parked his car in the driveway, locked up the house, and sat down on the couch before he let himself think about it. 

 

And the thing is–the thing is Steve can't remember the last time someone touched him. Actually touched him. Out of friendship and without motive. Without the sting of pain, without the brush of accident. Just to touch him. It makes his skin tight to think about it. And a wet acidic taste floods the back of his throat. His eyes sting. 

 

It must have been Nancy. Sometimes she touched his cheek softly, put an arm around his waist, held his hand with their fingers interlocked. Bullshit bounces through his skull.

 

How had he'd gone so long without realizing it?

 

Eddie gives out touch so easily. Brushes Robin's hair from her face. Straightens Dustin's hat. Throws his arms around Nancy's shoulder before she laughs him off. He's tactile in a way that Steve could never be. In a way he hasn't been with Steve yet. 

 

Steve doesn't know what changed, why Eddie did it. Doesn't know if Eddie even did it on purpose. Hopes that he did. 

 

But Eddie had always been a little distant from Steve. Would always jokingly call him The Untouchable Steve Harrington whenever everyone got together for movie night. And Steve would hunker down in his chair alone, blankly watching whatever movie Robin grabbed at the end of their shift, a heaviness in his chest.

 

Eddie's hand ghosts on Steve's shoulder now. It's still warm through his sweater. It feels real. He feels real.

 

Steve shudders a sob into the emptiness of the living room. Gripping his sweater sleeves so tightly and just letting it all go. 

 

An hour later he's showered and stripped for bed. The pillow is cool on his fevered skin. He finds himself shuddering alone in his closet three hours after that.

 

*

 

Steve has the next day off, but Robin works until close. And so Steve's kind of resigned to the idea that he'll be spending the day alone. He's lounging in the living room, sprawled across the sectional and reading a book he'd pulled from his dad's study. It's so far been about nothing in particular. Steve's not entirely sure he's been actually reading so much as moving his eyes along the words. 

 

The phone trills in the kitchen.

 

"Harrington residence," Steve grumbles down the line. 

 

"Steve, hey, it's Nancy," and she sounds out of breath. Beyond her voice Steve can hear Dustin bickering about wanting to talk to him. "You free?"

 

Around him is an empty house. 

 

"Yeah, I'm free." He pulls the phone cable and lets go so it snaps against the kitchen wall.

 

"Want to come to the quarry with us?"

 

"Steve please !" comes a beg from Dustin.

 

"Yeah, Steve-o, please !" And that's–that's Eddie. And something in Steve pulls upwards into his throat. He distantly hears Nancy shush them both and make a vague threat that she won't take them if they don't stop.

 

"Sure, Nance, I'll come," his voice is also distant and his ears are ringing when he hears both Dustin and Eddie's voices cheer from the crackle of the line. "Meet you there in twenty?"

 

Nancy is smiling in an exasperated way when she says, "See you there!"

 

"Tell him to bring–!" The line clicks dead.

 

Steve makes sure to grab a cooler and drop in some Sprites and Millers for later.

 

He parks to the far side of the quarry, where it's easy to climb down the rocks to the pseudo-beach. Nancy's mom's car is already there with a swarm of children pulling towels and bags from the trunk. Nancy is helping El tighten the neck strap on her swimsuit when Steve joins them.

 

"Steve! Thank God, can you help El with this? I need to–" Nancy doesn't even finish her sentence before she's flitting back to the car, El's ties only partially finished.

 

Steve drops the cooler at their feet and smiles down at El's gentle grin. She's bouncing on her feet and holding a green towel in her hands. Her skin's cool and dry against his fingers when he pulls the ties into a bow. There’s no echo of warmth like before.

 

Steve notes that her hair is in two neat braids and she has a sunscreen smudge on her jaw.

 

"Excited?" 

 

She grins fully now, teeth showing and eyes bright. 

 

"Yes! I am excited to swim!" And Steve only hesitates for a moment, but pulls an arm around her thin shoulders in a side hug. She melts into him immediately, still smiling up at him. When she does he rubs that sunscreen smudge away.

 

"Alright, I'll help you down the rocks?"

 

"Yes, please," El says evenly, changing their stance so instead they're holding hands. 

 

A quick glance at Nancy shows her slamming the trunk door closed and picking up a cooler and a beach chair.

 

"Let's go , people!" And there's Eddie. He flings passed Steve and El in a blur of coconut sunscreen and a faded blue towel before jumping down the first level of rocks. Steve's heart slams into his chest when Eddie drops below.

 

Him and El quickly grab the cooler and look over the edge. 

 

El giggles when all they see is Eddie scrambling the rest of the way down to the waterfront. The quarry echoes with his whoops.

 

"Ready?" Steve asks and El nods.

 

They start a slower decline down the ledge. 

 

*

 

After a few hours splashing around in the murky blue water, Steve lays out on his towel. He takes a sip of a still cold Miller and stretches face up, hands pulling above his head before settling against his wet hair. His sunglasses sit on his nose. If he pays close enough attention he can feel the water droplets running down his chest to his sides and off to the towel. 

 

The sand isn't really sand so much as dusted rocks. It's crawled its way up his legs and is clumping between his toes. Steve wiggles his toes down further until the sand turns to cool dirt.

 

Steve's breathing deepens into a steady rhythm. His eyes droop and close. He's sun warm and water tired.

 

There's something dripping on his forehead.

 

When he blinks flinchingly, it's Eddie grinning upside down above and behind him. In his hands is his t-shirt that he's slowly wringing out onto Steve.

 

And Steve had noticed. That Eddie had kept his shirt on for swimming. Had let himself hope that he wouldn't have. Gave himself room to hope that he'd take it off.

 

"Wakey, wakey, Stevie!"

 

All Steve does is hum, uses one hand to flip his sunglasses up until they're perched instead on his forehead.

 

"Don't want you getting all red and crispy on us," Eddie cackles, wiggling both hands towards Steve's chest, splashing water onto him from the still damp shirt.

 

"It'll just turn to tan," Steve replies around a yawn, stretching out again, flexing everything until he shakes with it. The scars along his side burn in a pleasant kind of pain. Sighs when he relaxes again. A glance at the sky shows the sun lower than Steve remembers when he laid down. "How long was I out?"

 

At first Eddie doesn't reply so Steve glances up. And Eddie's just staring blankly at him, eyes somewhere around Steve's chin. There's a faint blush on his cheeks and Steve convinces himself it's from the sun. That blush roams down onto Eddie's pale chest, sparse hair in the center. Eddie's chest has a few tattoos that have Steve’s fingers itching to touch. The one over his chest, almost grotesque and so Eddie that Steve doesn't even mind. He wants to trace them softly and learn what they mean. Why did Eddie get them? When did he get them? How many more does he have that Steve can't see? The thought makes Steve hot. There's one poking below his swim shorts, black-lined like all the others, and Steve can briefly imagine his hand riding up Eddie's leg and up his shorts, gripping.

 

Eddie coughs. Steve's gaze snaps back up to those too brown eyes. "Just–" he scratches at the back of his neck, shrugs, "Just a few hours?"

 

Steve hums again. He watches as Eddie turns around, feels toxic disappointment in his lungs for a moment before watching Eddie drag his sand filled towel down next to Steve's. It overlaps a little bit. Steve drops his arms down to his sides, playing briefly with the edge of his suit.

 

Eddie drops down on his stomach. He's close enough that his waist brushes against Steve's knuckles. And Steve boxes that up. He shoves the shock of heat down, the grounding feeling of touching Eddie down for later. 

 

But he can't stop the twitch of his knuckles. The extension of his fingers as they rub quickly across the soft expanse of Eddie's side, the wetness of his waistband.

 

Eddie sighs and turns his head towards him. He's propped his chin on his crossed wrists. For the first time Steve notices that his hair is braided loose down his neck. He's not wearing his rings. His fingers look long without them, they look soft. 

 

Eddie snatches Steve’s now warm Miller and takes a quick wincing sip. Sets it back in the sand. Settles back on his arms.

 

"You look tired, Stevie," Eddie finally says, whisper-quiet between them. The kids are shouting in the background. Steve can hear the splashing of water, screeching from Dustin and Mike. Giggling from El. Nancy is lounging with a book a few feet behind Steve and Eddie. 

 

Steve shrugs but answers as honestly as he can. Eddie is the first to indirectly ask about it. 

 

"I am." 

 

Eddie's gaze is soft. His brows are drawn low and the corner of lips–Steve shouldn't think about Eddie's lips right now. But they’re slightly damp from the beer and are frowning softly.

 

"I'll be right here, Stevie, sleep all you want," Eddie's voice is gentle and so is the hand that settles on his bicep. Warmth seeps down and down and down his arms and settles in an empty spot in Steve's chest. Steve's next breath rattles through his ribs. "I'm not going anywhere."

 

Eddie squeezes twice before letting go. He can see right through him. Steve wants him to.

 

"Okay," the word is heavy and tight in his throat. His smile is genuine though and full and it's the realest one he's given in a long time. He's glad it's for Eddie.

 

Steve flicks his sunglasses back and is almost immediately asleep again. 

 

Eddie's smile is the first image in his mind's eye. Crooked and lined and perfect. Steve's breathing evens out.

 

Eddie's right here, is his last thought.

 

It's the best sleep he's had in months.

 

*

 

Family Video is always there for him in its monotony. Robin is doubly there for him in her chaos.

 

They work well in tandem. People trickle in slowly and Robin somehow always slips him the older people. And they always crow on about his dad and his business and when he's thinking of going back to school. Steve's smiles are always polite because it doesn't matter. These people don't matter. Robin matters and she chattering helpfully to an eleven year old that was sent in by his mom to find Flash Dance.

 

Soon there's a lull in the afternoon.

 

Robin drags out the stool from the backroom for Steve while she's perched on the counter. Her sneaker will leave a dirt print over the candy window and Steve knows he'll clean it.

 

"How was the quarry?" she asks, no hint of jealousy in her tone. She's chewing HubbaBubba and snapping a quick succession of bubbles. "Have fun? Eddie said it was fun." 

 

Her eyes are more green in the fluorescent lighting than usual. Another bubble pops obnoxiously. Robin goes crossed eyed looking at it on her nose.

Steve leans on the counter to the side of her. One hand holds his chin and the other plays with a friendship bracelet on her wrist. Max had helped El make it.

 

Steve shrugs as casually as he can. Doesn't allow him to think of anything in particular. Can still see the way Eddie's eyes glowed honey brown in the sun. His heart goes double time.

 

"Yeah, I had fun."

 

"Proud of you, dingus," Robin grins out, ruffling Steve's hair quickly. And her touch is warm, but it doesn't linger. It doesn't feel the same as the beach and the school parking lot. But it still feels good, so Steve doesn't push her away.

 

*

 

The nailed bat is smooth against Steve's white knuckle grip. Chest heaving and shaking like a leaf, Steve carefully pries each finger from the bat. It takes more concentration than it should, but it's early and Steve feels slightly out of his mind. In some ways he prefers these nights over the others. Likes that his body can go on defense even if he's not fully with it yet.

 

With a deep breath, he finally begins a slow climb up the closet wall. His back slides upwards, the cotton undershirt he wore to bed catches on a few uneven parts of the paint. His legs shake beneath him but hold strong. When he's finally up, the bat clinks to the floor and Steve closes his eyes around a sigh.

 

The shower is burning against him when he steps in. Feels like flames licking on him. And all the muscles in Steve's body release. Tension in his shoulders, his neck, his jaw all let go. He grabs a bar of soap and rubs slowly along his arms first. He keeps his eyes closed, the bathroom lights aren't on anyway. Between the darkness, the heat, and shattering of the water hitting the tub below, Steve feels cocooned.

 

He starts to unlock all of the thoughts.

 

Lets himself hold onto the memories from the past few days. 

 

First he unboxes the friendly touches from El. How they held something delicate within Steve. Left him regretting being alone growing up. She was someone he could be gentle with, knew she would be gentle with him. She was a friend, a sister. Someone like him. Someone who would help him without question.

 

Friends support friends , she said.

 

Next was Robin. Robin and her cropped hair and dirty sneakers and too wide teeth. Robin was made for smiling, and Steve couldn't help but be in her orbit. She's comfort personified. She's Steve's best friend. And Steve loves her. But her touch doesn't linger and it never would. It was a different type of love for them.

 

He moved the soap to his chest.

 

Next–

 

Next he opened up the first memory of Eddie. The soap paused on his stomach. All the other memories of Eddie surfaced behind his eyelids. The grip to Steve's shoulder, the softness of Eddie's stomach, the peeking thigh tattoo. Eddie's smile lines, his too brown eyes on Steve. A burning of goosebumps erupts across his body. He feels lightheaded.

 

His hand twitches against his stomach. In the dark he could almost imagine it was Eddie.

 

A breath shudders out of him, low and wanting. As the soap explores Steve sides, he lets himself imagine it. Pulls in memories of Eddie's scent: sharp cologne, soft sweat, cigarettes. He can imagine himself ducking his head into Eddie's neck, finding the source of it. Can feel the tickle of Eddie's hair on his cheeks, on his eyelashes.

 

Would Eddie hold him tightly? Steve thinks he would. Feels how Eddie would bracket him by the hips against the shower wall. If Steve asked, Eddie would crowd him until they shared the same breath. Eddie's hands are long, strong and calloused on Steve's hip and lower. They move lower. The hands grip his dick firmly, confident, slide down to the base and curl under his balls. Eddie would know what he's doing.

 

Steve whimpers and it echoes around him. In the echo he can hear Eddie.

 

"I'm right here," raspy and kind in his ear.

 

And his hands keep moving and Steve keeps gasping, words barely forming on his lips. Eddie and please and more . Steve can feel kisses along his jaw. A warm sigh into his ear. He keeps stroking and the rings on Eddie's fingers are slick warmth, clacking together and catching along the head of Steve's dick. 

 

"I'm right here, Stevie." 

 

" Eddie! " Steve comes with a shout. The whole world whites out and the only thing that exists is hot pleasure. It's sharp and sudden and over too quickly. The water washes it away almost immediately and Steve slides boneless down to the tub. 

 

His sheets are cool on his skin when he slips between them ten minutes later.

 

Eddie's right here, he lies to himself.

 

He falls asleep into a dreamless sleep.

 

*

 

The week flies by. Steve still wakes up paralyzed one night. The creature at the end of his bed just watches him, head flowering on the worst night. On the best Steve just lies there, eyes pressed shut, and thinks, It's not real. Eddie is right here. And pictures the weight shift on the mattress where Eddie would lie.

 

For now Steve is at Family Video.

 

A movie night is planned for the next day and Steve only finds out when Robin bustles into work that morning.

 

"Dingus! Me, you, Terminator, your place, 6pm?"

 

Steve looks up slowly from where he's typing onto the computer. Gives a brief smile to Mrs. Smith as she raises a five dollar bill from the depths of her purse.

 

Robin doesn't even stop to hear a response. Just trudges through the aisles to the break room. There's a clatter of VHS tapes hitting the floor in their plastic cases. Steve can't help the smirk when Robin whispers Shit to herself.

 

"Due back on Wednesday, Mrs. Smith," Steve says kindly to the elderly woman, sliding the movie and change to her quickly.

 

It's as Mrs. Smith slowly makes her way out that Robin throws herself up onto the counter to sit. She has chipped blue nail polish and a grin a mile wide.

 

"What do you think?"

 

"Of?" Steve feigns ignorance as he sighs and leans on the counter next to her. She smells like cherries and soap.

 

Robin groans like Steve's the most exasperating person ever. "About tonight!"

 

Steve can't help but laugh, hesitating for a moment before nudging Robin's side with his shoulder. Warmth bleeds into his side, and it's a familiar wave of comfort. When Steve grins up at her, she's smiling right back at him. Something unwinds in his stomach.

 

"Sure, Buckley, my place. 6pm."

 

She pumps her fist in the air with a whooshing yes. Her eyes are heavenward.

 

Steve's about to ask who all will be there when the bell jingles from the front. In a swift motion Robin jumps down from the counter and they flash matching customer service smiles. A mother and three kids walk in.

 

"But you're bringing the pizza," is all Steve can get in before their day becomes too hectic to truly talk.

 

"Deal, Harrington," Robin says with a quick hip bump. She wanders out to help the mom sort through the Star Wars films.

 

*

 

Robin had apparently invited the entire Nerd Brigade plus their respective teenaged guardians.

 

Nancy arrives first with Mike and El in tow. El has a box Eggos hugged against her chest and Nancy holds up two sixers of Coke. 

 

"I know we're early, but El wanted to stop for Eggos on the way," Nancy says with a sideways smile. 

 

Steve flaps his hands, ushering them all into the kitchen. 

 

"Don't even worry about it, what's fifteen minutes in the scheme of it," he says.

 

It's just as they're settling in, Cokes in the fridge, Eggos both in the toaster and the freezer. The warm smell of buttermilk fills the room. El is perched on her tiptoes to see the orange glow of the foils. The doorbell rings followed by a series of knocks.

 

First one, then two, then one again.

 

Dustin. 

 

Steve doesn't even move from where he's pulling a plate down for El. Dustin busts in seconds later with a shout.

 

"Steve!"

 

El smiles and accepts the plate with two hands. Gingerly sets it on the counter with a small clack.

 

"Steve!" Dustin's shout gets closer.

 

Steve meets Nancy's gaze across the island and holds up three fingers.

 

She mouths, three.

 

Steve drops a finger, two.

 

Steve drops another, one.

 

"Steve!" Dustin appears in the kitchen doorway. His arms are full of blankets, with another sixer of Coke balanced on top of them. They sway with his sudden stop, the cans slipping down the blanket tower and down to the tile floor below.

 

One can bursts in a wheeze of fizz, before spinning idling around Dustin's feet.

 

Steve leans his chin on a hand while propped against the counter.

 

"What's up, Henderson?"

 

Dustin's face pulls into a guilty frown, wide apologetic eyes flashing instantly up to Steve. 

 

Eddie and Max round the corner after him. And it's like time slows for Steve again. Time lets him take in the tears in the knees of Eddie's grey wash jeans. Take in the chain clipped from his belt loops. The chopped low cut sleeves of a band t-shirt that Steve's never heard of. And the ever present battle vest, with patches and stains and Steve knows it's soft against the shoulders. Knows it would be soft against his fingers.

 

Lets himself wonder if Eddie would be soft against his fingers. If Eddie would let Steve be soft under his fingers. 

 

Steve aches.

 

He blinks himself back into reality. He tries to hold a flush and knows he doesn't succeed. He tries hard to not think of the night in the shower.

 

All Max can say is, "Wow, Henderson," before hopping over the mess and setting two bags of chips onto the counter. She immediately glues herself to El's side. The toaster digs with the completion of her waffles.

 

"Oops–" Dustin starts before a dish towel smacks into his face. Eddie's busy laughing next to him, one hand pressed to his chest and the other to Dustin's back. Steve can't help but notice it. Can't help the tightening in his stomach. The ache in his chest.

 

He's saved by the doorbell.

 

But it's as he's weaving his way around the mess and the kids that Eddie brushes his hand to Steve's elbow gently.

 

"Hey, man," Eddie says, laughter lines still visible and his soft brown eyes only on Steve. And Steve feels it again. A tightness in his skin and flames licking up his arm. It's like with Robin earlier at Family Video but it's really really not. He's almost starting to understand it. He suddenly feels too big for himself. "Thanks for the invite," is all Eddie says before letting go.

 

It takes everything Steve has to whisper back, "Yeah–yeah, no problem," even though he had no part in it.

 

He escapes to the front door.

 

It's Jonathan, Will, and Argyle. And behind them in the driveway is Robin and Lucas, hauling four pizzas from Robin's mom's car. 

 

Steve waves to her mom, who's sitting in the driver's seat, her hair pulled into curlers and a scarf. She waves back excitedly and Steve knows that she thinks him and Robin have been dating since Robin brought him over for tuna casserole four months ago. Neither are inclined to dissuade her of that thought.

 

With everyone in and the pizza divided amongst them, they all settle into their usual spots in the living room. The sectional is long enough to seat Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin, Max and El. All the boys are more than happy to build a small nest of blankets and pillows on the rug below, the coffee table pushed up against the entertainment center. 

 

Steve settles into his usual chair and hears Eddie sing-song, "The Untouchable Steve Harrington strikes again!" And it's shame white hot through Steve's chest this time when the boys laugh from the floor. It's hurt flooding into his lungs because Steve is trying . He's trying to understand it, and fix himself, and somehow Eddie has been able to see right through it from the start. 

 

He can't keep the expression off his face quickly enough, so he ducks his head and scrambles for a smile. A part of himself recedes underneath his heart. He forces a chuckle.

 

"Yeah, yeah," sounds a little hollow coming from him. When he looks up again the only person still looking is Robin. Concern is etched deep in her forehead, illuminated only by the glow of the TV as the VHS begins to flicker across the screen. Steve lets the smile slowly drop from his face.

 

She tilts her head minutely, mouths, Later?

 

Steve nods; Robin nods.

 

They both settle in for Terminator.

 

And Steve is ready to blindly watch as he always does until he notices Robin slip down from the couch to the floor. He can't help but watch her. Watches as she settles between Eddie's legs and rests a cheek to his knee. And Eddie just starts playing with her hair like it's a common occurrence. No one else looks their way, just keep crunching on their chips and slurping their soda. 

 

But Steve is mesmerized. He can almost feel Eddie's fingers in his own hair. And the longer he stares the sooner he realizes that Eddie's not just playing with Robin's hair, he's braiding it. A French braid begins to form from her forehead back, in a single straight plait. It doesn't take very long. He's soon tying it off with a hairband from his wrist.

 

It's like the beach. El had simple braids then and Eddie too. Steve had pictured himself undoing that braid and gently brushing it out for Eddie. He breathes through the soreness in his throat.

 

Robin twists back around with a soft smile and whispers, thank you, Eds. She climbs silently back into her spot on the couch and eats her pizza happily.

 

Steve feels blindsided. The movie is long since abandoned from his mind. And it's worse yet when Argyle does the same not twenty minutes later. He gives a dopey grin and elbows Jonathan before standing to plop into the space between Eddie's legs. He doesn't tilt his head, but continues to eat the pile of pizza on his plate. He takes an obnoxious slurp from his soda before belching around a laugh.

 

Eddie wipes his fingers on his jeans, ridding them of salt and grease. Absently brushes his fingers through Argyle's long black hair after. 

 

Eddie throws his head back and cackles at something in the movie. Steve notices how long his neck is. Takes in the day old stubble and his Adam's apple. He starts a fishtail braid with practiced ease.

 

Steve has to exhale quietly and painfully to himself. He locks up the thoughts. They're too much and there are too many people here. He sets his eyes back onto the TV and lets the night go by blankly. 

 

*

 

Robin stays the night without Steve asking her too. She makes Eddie take Lucas with him after the movie comes to an end. 

 

Steve feels like he's floating above himself for the goodbyes. The only thing that grounds him back are two small hands gripping one of his hands as he's walking El to the door with Nancy and Mike. While it does shock him into looking down frightenedly at El's knowing gaze, it doesn't have the same warmth of Robin's touch, the heat of Eddie's. But Steve's come to realize it's simply comforting.

 

El pats the back of his hand and says, "Friends support friends," like it explains everything still. She lets go and closes the front door behind her.

 

Soon it's just Steve and Robin and a pile of blankets to fold. 

 

"Steve–" Robin starts. Her voice is soft and worried and everything Steve is scared to face right now.

 

So Steve busies himself. He begins folding blankets in front of his face to hide his expression.

 

"Steve," Robin tries again, pulling the blanket from his hands. It's not forceful, but a suggestion. If Steve really didn't want this conversation he knows Robin wouldn't force him. And he loves her for it, but knows he needs to say something here. Needs to feel seen for the first time in a while.

 

"Robbie," he whispers, "something's wrong." And he lets it show. The tension in his spine rolls out and he squeezes his eyes shut until it's nearly painful. It's not until he feels Robin's hands brush against his cheeks that he realizes he's crying.

 

"Steve," Robin whispers again, "with what?"

 

"Me," and a weight lifts from his shoulders just as another weighs heavy on his heart, "something's wrong with me ."

 

And then he's in Robin's arms for the first time in their friendship. Part of Steve knew Robin wasn't inherently affectionate. Knew that she rarely initiated, but was worried that between Eddie's casual affection and the kids' lack of personal space that it was only him she didn't want to touch.

 

A sob shudders from him as he burrows deep into her arms. She still smells of cherries and when her arms squeeze him tight, Steve feels grounded.

 

Robin doesn't say anything real for a while, just murmurs platitudes into his hairline. She presses her warm cheek to his forehead and after a while Steve realizes they're rocking in place. 

 

Even when Steve's done, only small sniffles left in him, Robin doesn't say anything. And this is why he loves Robin. She's loud and she's brash and sometimes can't stop talking, but knows when to listen and wait Steve out.

 

"I think," Steve starts. He holds his breath for a moment, sighs and pulls away a bit so their temples are touching from the side. "I think I'm falling apart. Think I have been."

 

"Okay," comes Robin's soft reply in his ear. She doesn't sound surprised but then again Steve's not sure he's been hiding it well. "Okay, how can I help?"

 

"I feel like I'm floating away from myself all the time. And I'm trying," he squeezes his eyes shut. "Just help me try to ground myself."

 

Robin sighs and squeezes Steve one more time. Steve opens his eyes and meets hers. They're so blue. Her lashes are clumped with tears. She doesn't let go of him yet. There's fly-aways coming loose from her braid and framing her face like a halo. 

 

Steve almost doesn't say it. Almost wants to hold this part in his ribcage for the rest of his life. The lock is secure and heavy inside him. It's weighing him down.

 

"And," his throat closes up.

 

"And?"

 

Steve clears his throat. Pulls a little on the sleeve of her t-shirt.

 

"And I'm in love with Eddie."

 

The change on her face is slow. First the pull of confusion in her brows. Her blue eyes roam his face for a moment. Then her brows fly up her forehead in shock, followed by the drop of her mouth. 

 

When the words finally hit her, " What? "

 

Steve's not sure he has the courage to say the words again. He shrugs instead, pulls again on her sleeve. Robin's fingernails dig into his shoulders.

 

" What? Steve!" And she tumbles into herself, overlapping her own thoughts and her grip going tight and loose on his shoulders. "Did you just–? You just! But are you sure?" Here she looks serious with her brows creasing. They smooth out and she shakes her head. "Of course you're sure. And! It's Eddie! You said Eddie! Munson!" Robin pulls him close with a gasp. "No boobies! Steve." Her voice pitches low, as if she's imparting unknown and vital news that might change what Steve's said. "Eddie doesn't have boobies. Or–or–well, he does, but they aren't the same. Steve, they aren't the same." She shouts nonsensically and shakes him around.

 

"Robin," Steve interrupts across her next inhale. Her eyes are panicking and flick across his face. Soft hands cup his cheeks.

 

"Steve."

 

"It's fine, Robin."

 

"It's fine?" Robin takes a deep breath and looks searchingly at Steve's face. "We're fine?"

 

Steve smiles. Brushes a hair on her cheek so it's no longer stuck to her lip. He nods. "We're fine."

 

"Oh my gosh, Steve, we're fine ! We love Eddie Munson!" Her face twists as she hears herself. "Wait–no– you love Eddie Munson! You need to tell me everything."

 

And after they both change into pajamas and settle into Steve's bed, he tells her everything.

 

*

 

It's as Eddie is wandering around Family Video aimlessly, with just Steve at the front counter. He's raving about a few newer songs Corroded Coffin has been practicing lately.

 

"–pure genius, Stevie! Just you wait!" And here he punctuates it with a fist in the air, just lifting above the aisles for Steve to see.

 

And Steve is trying to be more lately. More involved, more vocal, more tactile, more of himself. Of who he'd maybe like to be after everything to do with the Upside Down.

 

So he says with false nonchalance, "Oh yeah? When's the next gig?"

 

With a clatter of a few VHS tapes dropping from the shelf, Eddie flings himself around the corner. His arms are raised in a pause position before rolling back as if to say rewind .

 

"Do my ears deceive me? The Untouchable Steve Harrington?" Eddie's voice isn't harsh, never is when he says it, but Steve still can't contain the flinch at that. Eddie bulldozes onward, "Interested? In Corroded Coffin?"

 

Steve drops his gaze from Eddie's in an instant, shrugging like it doesn't matter, flips a page in the Family Video catalog.

 

"What? I can't be interested?" Steve rubs one of his eyes. He pointedly doesn't look up at Eddie's soft scoff.

 

"Can't be? More like hasn't been!" He's pointing, Steve knows he is with the tone. Can picture how his rings look on his fingers. Can almost imagine them against the base of his neck.

 

And maybe Eddie's right. Maybe Steve has never asked about the band before, made short comments about the music they play, but he also had never been invited to listen to them play before. 

 

He's trying.

 

So he shrugs again, "Well, I'm interested now."

 

When he looks up again Eddie is at the edge of the counter. His eyes are considering, as if he isn't sure if Steve's being serious. Steve raises a brow in challenge. Keeps his expression as honest as he can with those brown eyes looking at him.

 

"Okay, okay," Eddie says quickly, hands raised in a placating manner.  He pulls his body up onto the counter. Steve's long since stopped protesting him and Robin doing it. 

 

He spins himself so that he's facing into the work station. Steve's then bracketed by his legs. He suddenly doesn't know what to do with his hands. The catalog he was flipping through is between Eddie's legs and Steve's knuckles connect with his inner thighs. And right there, right there , is Eddie's crotch. Steve's burning up and locking things down. Stays where he is to not make it awkward. Pulls out a smile and looks up at Eddie. 

 

Eddie's brown eyes are soft and looking at Steve in some kind of way. Steve wants to be looked at like this all the time. 

 

"Next Saturday," Eddie finally says. And he's quiet. And still looking only at Steve. Steve couldn't respond if he wanted to. His heart is in his throat and splayed across his face. Eddie continues, "Next Saturday at the Hideout." 

 

"Next one? Not this one?" And Steve is flicking a corner of the catalog between his fingers, feels the inseam of Eddie's jeans against his knuckle as he does it.

 

Eddie's breath stutters out in a complex way. "No, yeah," quick paced and Steve doesn't let his gaze leave Eddie's brown eyes and pinkened cheeks. There's nothing that could drag his eyes away. "Not this one."

 

The smile Steve gives Eddie is too tender, says too much. "I'll be there."

 

"Cool, I'll–" Next thing Steve knows is Eddie's across the counter, hands shoved into his back pockets. Shoulders to his ears. "See you later, Stevie!" 

 

And he's out the door.

 

*

 

Steve plans another movie night, that first Saturday. He's got Jaws and Tron already set up next to the VCR. He's already put in the pizza order for Robin to pick up on her way through. He'd even been the one to call in the event. Had dug out the walkie the Nerd Brigade had given him over a year ago.

 

"Movie night, 6pm, Saturday, my place," Steve had said.

 

Dustin's voice crackled through not a minute later, "You have to say 'over', Steve, over."

 

"Dustin's uninvited, over," Steve responded with a smile. All of his nerves on whether or not the group would come over fade instantly. He knew that he was overthinking it, but hearing Dustin's sass confirmed it was all okay.

 

The line cracked again and all that came through was a string of laughter. It's Eddie's voice and it warms Steve down to his core. He can't help but duck his head and hide his smile in his collar.

 

"Copy, Stevie-boy, over and out!" 

 

Stevie-boy . That's–that's a new one. And Steve has to pocket it for later.

 

Everyone arrives in waves. Rounds and rounds of popcorn hit the air popper, doused in butter and salt, and are divided amongst any bowl Steve can find. Max insists on melting even more butter and El asks if she can have Eggos instead. Steve helps her set up the toaster and pulls out JetPuffed to make a waffle sandwich with it.

 

Steve can feel eyes on him while El is directing Steve's careful spread of the marshmallow. When he looks up, it's Eddie leaning in the kitchen doorway. He's got a soft smirk on his lips and a fond look in his eyes. His hands play mindlessly with the ring on his middle finger. Steve knows that one is a pig’s head.

 

"Is that good?" he manages to say to El without looking away from Eddie.

 

"Good, yes. Thank you, Steve." And Steve hears the crunch of the two waffles being smushed together and sees an El shaped blob fly by Eddie. Behind her are Lucas and Max bickering but gently carrying extra bowls for everyone in the living room.

 

It leaves Steve and Eddie alone. And Steve knew he shouldn't, but he pictures telling him briefly. He imagined how he'd say it. The words he'd say and how far away he'd be from the other boy just in case. Gets lost for a second in imagining the better outcome, in how the stubble on Eddie's upper lip would feel on his lips. 

 

Instead of any of that, Steve grabs the two bowls left on the counter, passes one off to Eddie before asking, "Ready?" and brushes his shoulder to Eddie's as he goes to the living room.

 

"For anything, Stevie-boy," it's said a little breathlessly and Steve's not entirely sure he was supposed to hear it. But Eddie lingers in the doorway for a moment longer. Swings dramatically, dipping his head low so his hair curtains his expression.

 

"Dude, press play!" Dustin whines from beneath the small cushion and blanket fort. Steve can only see his socks poking out the back.

 

"Manners, Henderson," Steve chides back, but presses play on the remote anyway.

 

An echo of Manners, Henderson resound in snarky tones from the same fort. Steve rolls his eyes and settles back.

 

 And Steve waits. They've caught the first shark in the movie when Steve hears the normal The Untouchable Steve Harrington spiel. He doesn't let himself think too hard about it. Can hear that maybe even Eddie isn't really feeling it tonight. He gives himself a chance to finish his small bowl of popcorn and watches with an anxious eye as Nancy gets her permed hair braided into small bobbles.

 

The boys are shoving each other on their cushions and blankets on the floor, fort destroyed quickly. Dustin has two hands above his head in a faux fin and is crawling towards Will, who's laughing so hard he's leaning back into Mike's lap with a pillow tilted on his head. Lucas is holding an air gun and pretending to shoot hooks into Dustin.

 

Steve sets his popcorn bowl on the floor quietly, takes a hefty slurp of his Coke and stands. 

 

No one says anything or looks his way, except Robin, who's holding a wrist to her chin, fingers covering a small nervous smile for him. She flicks her gaze back to the TV. 

 

The boys go silent when Steve drops into a pretzel between Eddie's knees on the floor. He pointedly keeps watching the movie. Barely takes in the woman slapping the officer.

 

Nancy snaps her fingers and all the boys continue watching the movie.

 

Fingers pull into the short hair by Steve's forehead and he can't help the sigh that leaves him. All the muscles that tensed when he sat down loosen. Steve leans a cheek to Eddie's knee with the beginnings of a smile on his face. Feels how it warms him all the way down to his chest.

 

Eddie's fingers are calloused on his scalp, but gentle as he works out snags and product. Steve's eyes go hazy and his mind dips low. It's methodical and rhythmic, Eddie's careful pulling and tightening. He's boneless when Eddie shifts him from one knee to another, starting on a second matching braid.

 

He's working through a tangle by Steve's ear. His rings brush against Steve's ear, his neck, and a shudder flows down Steve's back. They're cool and smooth on his flushed skin. Eddie's hands pause. His legs flex closed a little bit. When Steve doesn't say anything, Eddie resumes braiding. 

 

The end of his hair is tied together and Eddie presses a hot hand to the juncture of Steve's exposed neck and shoulder. His thumb rubs circles next to the last vertebrae of his neck. 

 

There's no urgency to leave where he's sitting, but his hair is done and no one else has stayed seated between Eddie's legs. But Steve doesn't want to leave. Turns just enough that his arm is pressed entirely against Eddie's calf, feels when the hand drops away. When he breathes in it brings in the smell of Eddie: spice, weed, and sweat. He turns his head on Eddie's knee and feels the tear in his jeans brush against his cheek, his lips, and to his other cheek.

 

He feels bright in the darkness of the room. Like everyone is holding their breath collectively. Eddie is looking down at him like he doesn't know him at all. Eddie looks at him like he's seeing him for the first time.

 

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve whispers up to him.

 

"Yeah, Stevie, any–" Eddie licks his lips and Steve trails the movement with his eyes. Eddie's breath hitches, "Anytime."

 

Steve gets back up quietly and returns to his seat. All he can concentrate on is the feeling of calloused fingers in his hair.

 

He keeps the braids in for the rest of the weekend.

 

*

 

He rings up Robin Sunday morning, dragging a stool over to the phone. The cable smacks against the wall where Steve snaps it.

 

"Hello?" 

 

"Hi, Ms. Buckley, it's Steve–" he goes to ask if Robin is awake yet.

 

"Robin, baby, phone's for you!" There's a shuffle through the line, another phone connecting.

 

"Hey Steve," Robin greets around a yawn.  "Mom! Hang up!"

 

All Ms. Buckley does is laugh and clicks the phone back on the hook. 

 

"Sneak, she always thinks she'll get away with it." Robin's voice is exasperated in the way where it's also loving. Steve can picture her buried in bed. Can see her frizzy hair and blurry eyes. Ms. Buckley didn't know it but when Steve slept over he wasn't on the rickety cot she set up for him every time. Robin's twin was tight but the closeness helped them both sleep. Robin looked like she went through a tornado every morning. It took her body too long to remember itself.

 

"Still no crisis, dingus?" Robin smacks her lips and there's the faint sound of her fluffing her pillow.

 

"No crisis, just–" The cord smacks on the wall again, "Thinking about it."

 

Robin hums over the line. "About telling him?"

 

Steve runs a hand down his braids, feels how they've loosened over a restless but unremarkable night. He'd woken up in bed, no nightmares clouding his eyes. Thinks about how Eddie does that for him. Wonders if that's maybe unhealthy. Thinks instead of how Eddie had looked at him with Steve's cheek to his thigh.

 

"Yeah, maybe." Steve lists forward, leaning so his head is resting on the wall. It's cool and when he sighs he can see the heat of his breath steam the paint a little. "Do you think he–?"

 

"You know I can neither confirm or deny that, Steve. It's–either way it's not my secret to tell." And Robin's like a vault with secrets. Balances them even when she's not aware she's keeping them. The only thing that would give her away is her serious lack of a poker face.

 

Steve sighs. "Stop making that face."

 

She sputters indignantly, "I'm not making a face !"

 

"You're making not only a face but the face."

 

"What face?"

 

"The face!"

 

"There's no face !"

 

And Steve laughs so hard that he almost slips from the stool. He can hear Robin giggling, the rustle of blankets as she squirms around.

 

"Shut up! So maybe there's a face!"

 

"There's totally a face, Buckley."

 

And she goes quiet, hums contemplatively. Steve snaps the phone cord one more time. It catches his cheek on the reverb.

 

"Yeah," Robin finally says. Her tone is soft and still a little out of breath from laughing. "Tell him."

 

"Okay, I will."

 

*

 

The Hideout is both exactly what Steve was imagining and completely different. The atmosphere is dingy and smokey and full of locals. The front door has been propped open in the heat and metal music vibrates the walls.

 

Steve grabbed a seat at the end of the bar, closest to the stage. It was barely a stage as it was. Just a lifted platform with a collection of cables and cords and stained carpeting. There was enough of a dance floor or crowding space in front of it that Steve felt huddled in. 

 

Most everyone was milling about. Chatting loudly over the music.

 

There's a busty biker woman to his left taking shots like her evening depends on it.

 

"What'll ya have?" comes a voice from behind Steve. When he turns it's to a gruff balding man with a typical look of impatience that bartenders tended to have.

 

"A Bud," is what Steve decides on.

 

A sweating bottle is dropped off and a tab is presumably opened.

 

"When's Corroded Coffin going on?" Steve shouts before the bartender fully turns away.

 

The man's brows lift in a jaded type of shock. His eyes rake across Steve's dark grey shirt, coiffed hair, and overall demeanor. Steve takes a sip of his beer and raises his brow as he swallows.

 

"'Bout ten minutes," the bartender says. He shakes his head, mutters something under his breath before getting called to the other side of the bar.

 

Steve settles in. Chugs half his beer. Spins back towards the stage and watches the crowd. The music transitions from one song to the next. Or at least Steve supposes it must, with multiple guitar solos and a mixture of ballads and anthems going by. The people around him talk and sing and chant. The Hideout is the perfect balance of fake IDs and locals that anyone can get away with what they want here.

 

Ten minutes later four boys shove themselves up on stage for a quick sound check. Their laughs are swallowed by the overlay of music. They're shoving into one another and Steve recognizes two of them other than Eddie. Because Eddie is there. The grin splashed across his face has Steve downing the rest of his beer.

 

He's wearing a cropped black shirt, loose around his ribs. There's layers of chains on his neck that spark in the dim lighting. His jeans are straight legged and low on his hips, with rips along the knees. A bandana holds the flyaways of his hair from his face. And God, his face. Lined eyes and dimpled grin.

 

"Hel lo , patrons," Eddie purrs into the mic. A guitar is slung down to his waist. He plays a set of chords that squeal in the speakers. A cheer raises up from the bar. "We're Corroded Coffin!" 

 

And without preamble the drums slam and kick off their first song. It's one that Steve vaguely knows. He mouths some of the lyrics to himself. Another Bud is dropped off for him and he takes it blindly. Eddie is mesmerizing on stage. 

 

His usual theatrics are graceful around the beat of the songs that Steve doesn't know. He's long limbs and steady deep vocals and Steve is boxing this memory up for later. But let's himself look up at Eddie with an open expression. Between the dimmed lights, the cigarette smoke, and the haze of drinks, he doubts any of these people will remember him and his clear expression. 

 

He's so in love with this boy that it's verging on dangerous.

 

It's around the end of the sixth song and Steve's third beer that Eddie finally notices him in the crowd. He crows above the drum solo and it reverbs across the sound system. Eddie's eyes are wide with shock and happiness. The liner makes them bigger, more brown, more doe eyed. And with Eddie's grin and sweat shining skin, he starts headbanging to the solo. The bandana slides out and Eddie's curls are wild. When the solo ends, the song ends, and Eddie bounds back to the mic. His hair is plastered to his temples and neck from sweat.

 

"This next one–" he gasps out, a ringed hand pulling hair away from his face and another gripping the mic stand. The crowd is rowdy below them, but his eyes are glued to Steve. "This next one is dedicated to a friend. Ready boys?" 

 

Gareth hoots from behind his drum kit. He clicks out a beat with his drumsticks and Eddie starts up a familiar chord on his guitar. It's Master of Puppets, the only song Steve was destined to know with it already ingrained in his memories. It holds a lot in it, but still Steve laughs to himself, shaking his head at Eddie as he starts up the lyrics. 

 

When he can, Eddie points to Steve on the repetitive master master . 

 

*

 

There's no backstage to go to once Corroded Coffin finishes playing. They just pack up their equipment on stage quickly and leave it to grab later. All of them branch off from each other, Eddie coming straight up to Steve.

 

He's panting and dripping with sweat. But Steve bundles him into a slapping hug anyway. It wasn't planned and the heat is scorching straight through to Steve’s chest. For a moment Steve thinks he's crossed a line. Eddie hesitates for just a moment before grabbing the back of Steve's shirt and swaying them together. The back of Eddie's head brushes Steve's arm as he throws it back in a laugh. Steve feels lighter than air. Feels like steam rising straight to the rafters.

 

"You guys were great!" Steve boasts when they separate.

 

"Yeah?" Eddie grips the junction of Steve's neck by his shoulder. Even when they press against the bar he doesn't let go. "You liked it?"

 

Steve nods, letting his chin brush into Eddie's knuckles. He briefly feels Eddie's thumb press into his jaw. 

 

"Even knew a few songs. You're corrupting me, Munson!" 

 

"You haven't seen corruption yet, Stevie-boy!" Eddie says it with a laugh, but Steve can't help the flash of new heat that floods down past his hips. For a moment he's blinded by incredible want. 

 

Robin's voice echoes in his head, Tell him.

 

It's crossed with Eddie's voice at the beach, I'm not going anywhere.

 

Steve finds himself shuffling closer and shouting, "What are you doing after you leave?" over a particularly loud song starts to play.

 

Eddie grins something just left of sly. 

 

"Not sick of me yet, Harrington?" The hand on Steve's shoulder tightens and loosens. Steve swears he can feel Eddie's pulse through his palm. "Going home, want to come with?"

 

"Nah," and maybe Steve's too breathless sounding, "not sick of you yet. Meet you there?" He pulls out his wallet, chucks a couple of bills down and turns back to Eddie.

 

*

 

The cool air feels good when they make it out to the parking lot in the back. Eddie is regaling Steve on a D&D event he's planning for the next weekend. The school had granted them a late night pass since the club had been going steady for the summer. Eddie was planning a grand finale to their Strahd session to "–blow their pipsqueak minds!" 

 

They reach Steve's BMW too soon. 

 

"See you there in ten!" Eddie sing-songs, swinging his guitar case forward and merging into the dark to his van at the far end of the lot. A street light flickers above them. Steve can't help but sit in his running car waiting for Eddie's van to creep out his spot. He gently rubs a hand to his neck, rubbing the sensation of Eddie’s palm until it sticks.

 

He follows the red glow of his lights all the way to the trailer park. The radio is down low so Steve can anthem tell him tell him the entire drive there.

 

*

 

Eddie speeds like a maniac in the dark and Steve doesn't trust himself to follow at quite the same pace. When he shows up, Eddie's already on the small porch, hands in pockets and guitar slung to his back. His uncle's truck is parked alongside the van.

 

"Hey," Steve whispers when he bounds up the steps. 

 

"Hey yourself," Eddie responds, leaning forward into Steve's space with a grin. Steve's breath catches before Eddie spins back around, opens the screen door and front door. 

 

His uncle Wayne is in the kitchen, putting together a sandwich. Eddie had mentioned once that he works odd shifts, will pick up any shift offered to get some extra cash. He looks bone tired in the way Steve’s felt for the past few years.

 

Eddie just pulls his shoes off, one hand braced on Steve's shoulder for balance. Like all the other touches, it burns. But more so with the sharp eyes of his uncle on them. Meeting parents has always made Steve nervous. Makes him feel everything there is wrong with him is in slow motion and obvious.

 

Steve slowly follows suit and removes his sneakers though. He drops his gaze and lets his sweaty hair shield his face. Beside him Eddie's chatting about a few new cassettes he's gotten, more songs he's thinking of adding to the band's setlist. He's weaving into the trailer, avoiding furniture as he goes. 

 

When they pass by Eddie's uncle, Steve's sure to say a polite, "Hi, Mr. Munson," without really looking up at the man again. His gaze is resolutely on the man's nose. 

 

"Call me Wayne, son," he replies gruffly, finally turning away to look in the fridge. Steve nods but the man can't see. He scrambles to keep following Eddie to his room. His socked feet slide along the linoleum wood.

 

Eddie's already at his stereo, a whirlwind of cassettes and cases on the dresser and floor around it. None of the drawers are completely closed and clothes spill out from them. It's all a blur of black and red but when Steve's gaze hits on the distinctive waistband of a pair of boxers draped out a top drawer, his eyes skitter nervously to the walls.

 

A lot of posters are put up with push pins and tape and the text is too spindly to read. Words already twist in front of his eyes as it is. Steve can make out jagged M’s and sharp S’s easily. They cause Steve to finally step fully into the room to get a closer look. He knows some of the names of bands eventually, but none well enough to mention and doesn't want to ask because he knows the grin Eddie would give. There's another knickknacks too. Bandanas on a bed post, chain necklaces hooked around a stray nail next to the curtained window, a flurry of notebooks and pens on a small side table with an empty glass with no coaster. There's tread in the carpet and the sheets are thrown back like Eddie just left his bed and water rings on every surface. It's warm and homey and Steve hopes there's room for him. 

 

Eddie flings himself on the bed as the tape starts to wind out a quieted bassline. 

 

"You really liked it?" he asks. Steve's eyes land on him. He's stretched out wide, one hand on his hip, the other above his head on the pillow. The relaxed posture, the long expanse of Eddie stomach where the crop top has raised, the trail of wiry hair at his navel, takes in the nervousness around his eyes.

 

Steve settles on the floor within the pile of tapes. Keeps his gaze up on Eddie's face as he says, "Yeah, I really liked it." But he has to turn and face the drawers of the dresser before saying, "You were great up there."

 

Steve picks up a tape at random. The plastic is smooth and the paper cover is poking out the seal. It's a Megadeth tape. He pretends to flip it over and read the tracklist. Sets it down after a moment and picks up another.

 

"Thanks," Eddie responds and Steve can hear him shuffling on the bed. When Steve turns to look, Eddie's on his stomach, chin settled on his outstretched wrist. He's laying and facing Steve now. His eyes are so brown. His dimple would fit Steve's lips so easily.

 

Steve turns around and picks up another tape at random, shuffling deeper into the pile. For a moment it looks blank.

 

"How's Robin?" Eddie asks lazily. Tape forgotten, Steve turns back. 

 

"What do you mean how's Robin ? You see her as much as I do?" It's less a statement and more confusion, lilting out as a question.

 

"Are you guys–" And here Eddie fidgets, picks at a loose string on his blanket. He shrugs awkwardly and won't meet Steve's confused face. "–good?"

 

"Are we good?" Steve echoes back.

 

Eddie sighs and scrubs his hands into his crown. The groan he lets out is frustrated, eyes squeezed shut. Drops his hands from his head to press into his eyes.

 

Steve scrambles to reply to save Eddie the awkward explanation, "I mean, yeah? I guess we're–" Steve raises both hands in a vague wavy motion, tape still in hand, "good? Are you–? What are you asking me here?"

 

Eddie groans again. Hands pressed into his face and muttering to himself while Steve just looks at him confused and concerned. Watches as Eddie rolls onto his back, heading lulling over the edge and hair spilling in a waterfall.

 

"Good!" he bursts, handings flying up in the air. They spin together in a rolling motion. "Good, as in doing fine ! Good, as in happy together ! After the whole, you know, Nancy thing!" It's all punctuated with arm flailing and deep breaths and Eddie's eyes never opening.

 

Steve squints at him, his confusion coloring into something giddy and hilarious.

 

"Me and Robin?" Steve says around a laugh. He tries to stifle it.

 

"Yes!" Eddie rolls over onto his stomach, arms extending out to Steve.

 

"Robin and me?"

 

"Yes!" 

 

"Me? And Robin–hold on, man, hold on," and Steve leans bodily back into the dresser, head thrown back and arms gripping his stomach as he gasps laughs out. 

 

"God, Stevie, I'm sorry I asked," Eddie grumbles. He's frowning petulantly and it only makes Steve laugh harder.

 

"No, no, Eddie! Eds, Platonic, with a capital p," Steve says, knee crawling closer to the bed until Eddie is level with him. He's probably too close, can see the stubble of Eddie's upper lip clearly. Lists forward so his arms are on the bed, twirling the tape mindlessly, and his chest pressed to the bedside. He can feel textbooks under the bed pressing on his knees. "There's no me and Robin , genius."

 

“But you guys are–” Eddie finally says after a pause of Steve continuing to huff out small laughs and mutter me and Robin, “ symbiotic and shit. You guys are literally just one disgustingly annoying person, Steve.”

 

“Wow, thanks,” And Steve twists his face up at the imagery of a Steve and Robin hybrid. Can only imagine it in the form of a disaster of a twelve year old just like the Nerd Brigade used to be. Shakes the thought out of his head and continues, “Robin’s–” cuts himself off again. Knows he can’t say why but isn’t lying when he says, “my best friend.”

 

Eddie’s fiddling with a skull ring, pulling it off and shoving it back past his knuckle. He’s not meeting Steve’s gaze when he asks, “You’re really not together?”

 

Steve’s voice is much too soft, letting his eyes drift back to the cassette in his hands. He spins it idly, catches a small amount of black ink on the backside. “Nah, we’re not together. Not like that.” It’s a heart, drawn small and unassuming. It’s filled in and pressed until the ballpoint pen made indents in the paper. It’s a love mixtape. Steve’s emotions go haywire. None of them stick long enough for him to identify but he shoves away from the bed quickly. 

 

He twirls the tape again, flashing the heart over to Eddie whose eyes go wide.

 

“Where did you find–?” 

 

Steve feels a giddy laugh tumble from his mouth and pulls the tape out of Eddie’s snatching hand. He’s hauled himself onto his knees on the bed. Steve falls back on his butt to keep it out of reach.

 

“Steve, wait–” 

 

But it’s too late, Steve’s propped against the dresser again, hitting stop and open before Eddie can stop him. Even the tape inside has a small heart drawn to the side of its label. It’s bumpy under Steve’s thumb.

 

“Can you just–?” 

 

Steve presses play.

 

The first song starts up, and at first Steve is grinning at the tape deck where it spins, Eddie's protests quieting while the song starts up. Steve pulls back from the dresser a bit. And Steve, wait, Steve knows this song. This is–

 

His jaw drops, mouths what the, before swinging back around to Eddie. Who's once again laying back on his bed. He's got both hands covering his face and he's groaning. Steve grins like a maniac suddenly. 

 

"Eddie. Munson." Steve separates his name purposefully, knee walking over to the bed, sitting heavily on the edge. Pokes Eddie in the ribs a few times for effect.

 

"Don't," Eddie's voice muffles.

 

"Do my ears deceive me?" And Steve's throwing Eddie's words back at him from Family Video. "Tears for Fears? On one of Eddie Munson's tapes?"

 

Everybody Wants to Rule the World continues quietly through the speakers. Steve starts to poke Eddie in tune with it. Without totally uncovering his eyes, Eddie blindly slaps Steve’s hand away. Steve’s laugh is probably too loud for how late it is.

 

The song starts to wind down and there's a few seconds of silence as the next track clicks to start, a brief radio host's voice blips in and out. Eddie took the time to record these himself, ripping them from the radio. Bruce Springsteen's I'm On Fire starts up slowly. 

 

" Fuck ," Steve catches Eddie whisper to himself. 

 

Steve stops poking Eddie and stares at the stereo.

 

It's a short song, not even really played on the radio all that much. Eddie would've had to listen for it for ages to record it. But Steve sings along to it every time it's on, knows Eddie knows it since he mocks Steve for it every time.

 

His mind becomes a mess of static. This is a love mixtape. And Steve–

 

"I like this song," Steve says instead of acknowledging any of that. Turns to glue his eyes on the stereo. He's trying to figure out what this means. Is this tape for him? 

 

"Yeah," Eddie replies, voice croaking. He sighs and sits up. His one knee is pressed into Steve's thigh. His breath is fanning against Steve's cheek.

 

He thinks maybe this mixtape is for him. 

 

With a heart .

 

"Can I tell you a secret?" Steve says, voice only a little strangled when he forces it out.

 

Steve keeps his eyes on the stereo across from him, where the cassette is playing his favorite songs on an unmarked mixtape that Eddie had hidden in his collection.

 

Eddie's gaze is burning on his cheek and if Steve looks he'll chicken out. He'll laugh it off and pretend this isn't the most important thing to him right now.

 

"Yeah, Stevie, go for it."

 

Blinking several times over, Steve picks at his fingernails. Forces himself to stop. Takes a deep shuddering breath. Hears Eddie shifting on the bed. The press of his knee is solid and warm.

 

"You don't have to, Stevie–"

 

"I love you."

 

A silence stretches between them. Duran Duran is starting to play distorted in Steve's ears as he waits for a response. None comes. All he can hear is Eddie's unsteady breath. 

 

Steve can't think of a moment where Eddie had nothing to say before. He feels awkward suddenly, less nervous and more overwhelmingly like he should leave. He's faced with the slamming knowledge that while he'd been sure. While Robin had encouraged him. While Eddie seemingly has a tape full of Steve's favorite music with a heart. None of that means that Eddie feels the same way. There's a sharp burn in the base of his throat. It won't go away when he swallows.

 

The cassette keeps spinning. Eddie still hasn't said anything from where he's settled right next to Steve. Eddie could have been making tapes for everyone. Steve probably isn't special. Why would he think that? He should–

 

"I think I should to go," Steve whispers out. He's locking things down now. Can feel how his face drops into hurt. Quickly reels it into a neutral frown. It's not really working and his hands are shaking in his lap. All of it can wait until he's alone and Eddie won't be able to see. Every place he's touched Eddie and Eddie's touched him today are now stone cold. 

 

He's not running. It's a strategic retreat. 

 

He leaves Eddie's room. He walks down the hallway. When he walks into the living room, Eddie's uncle Wayne is sitting on the couch with a beer. A rerun baseball game warps in the side of Steve's perception.

 

"–okay, son?" barely even registers to Steve.

 

He thinks he replies with, Have a good night, Mr. Munson, even though he'd been told to call him Wayne. Grabs his sneakers without putting them on. The screen door slaps behind him on the way out. He can vaguely hear Mr. Munson shout something in the trailer behind him.

 

Steve has to pull over halfway home. He's shaking out of his skin and air won't make it into his lungs. He's drowning. He's suffocating. His vision is tunneled into the green glow of his dashboard clock. And while his cheeks are dry, his palms are sweating and his ears ringing.

 

He throws the car into drive and crawls home.

 

He doesn’t even attempt to sleep for the rest of the weekend. 

 

*

 

Robin picks up on his mood immediately on Monday morning at Family Video. He's filling the gumball machine and updating the discount color from red to purple when she comes in. Her hair is braided, but it's obviously done by her mom. The hair ties have bobbles and she lost a loop halfway through on the left side.

 

"Hey, dingus," is all she gives, with a hand dragging along his shoulders as she walks to the breakroom.

 

She gives him space by not saying anything but staying close all day. 

 

When Mr. Owens stops in to discuss war films, Robin hovers in a nearby aisle. He doesn’t rent anything and takes up an hour of their time.

 

When Marcy Charleston twirls her finger in her hair and bats her eyelashes at Steve, it's Robin who goes to answer her question. Marcy frowns politely, flitting her gaze to where Steve hovers restocking the War Heads and Nerds.

 

When the computer reboots partway through checking out Junior Erring, she chats with the ten year old while Steve silently begs the screen to light back up.

 

But they finally have to split when Mrs. Smith comes in asking for help finding Death on the Nile. The phone rings just as Steve is ducking under the counter to help her. Glancing back to Robin, he watches as she slides over to it, a guilty look on her face. He weakly grins back, waving a hand to her when Mrs. Smith can't see. Two minutes away from one another won't kill him. No matter how comforting her hovering has been all day.

 

He gets Mrs. Smith the movie and they head back over to the counter.

 

"You don't look good, dear," she tuts. "Those nasty bags are back." Her shaky hand touches underneath her own eyes.

 

Robin's still on the phone, dead silent and staring blankly at the candy window. Steve sees the faint outline of her Converse on the glass. Steve ducks under and starts tapping at the keyboard.

 

"Well, you know me, Mrs. Smith," Steve replies vaguely. Mrs. Smith has known him since he was in diapers. She's always been the type to say it like she sees it. She slides a five dollar bill across the counter and accepts her movie and change like usual. 

 

She clicks her tongue disapprovingly, "A shot of a whiskey before bed, dear. Cures all." With a wink, she slowly makes her way out the door.

 

Steve grins bemusedly to himself and gives a small laugh. Turning to Robin, he sees her humming to the person on the other line. She cuts her blue eyes over to him. They're tight at the edges and she doesn't even use her customer service voice when she says, "Yeah, I'll tell him. See ya," and clicks the phone into the hook.

 

“Tell me what?” Steve says, ducking under the counter to grab the cleaning spray and a rag. Wasn’t hard to assume it was for him. Assumes it was maybe Dustin being a brat.

 

Except Robin stays silent, hand hovering on the phone still. She’s staring intently at Steve’s face. He scrunches it up, crossing his eyes poking out his tongue. Robin doesn’t laugh, so Steve turns and sprays the footprint on the candy window.

 

“You told him,” she whispers finally. She sounds awed. And Steve would take offense if he wasn’t suddenly locked frozen. What did Eddie call for?

 

Her eyes are a shift between green and blue and brown in the light. Steve ducks his chin and cleans the glass too thoroughly. Shrugs minutely.

 

“Yeah,” and his tone reads exactly what he’s feeling. Hurt and disappointed and feeling all of this at Family fucking Video on a Monday at two o’clock in the afternoon. He forces himself not to box all of this and shut down. 

 

“Proud of you, dingus,” she whispers and her hand is warm in the center of his back. She leans around him, cheek pressed to his bicep. 

 

Steve lets his hair keep curtaining his face. Lets his eyes get wet and eyelashes are heavy with tears. He keeps blinking them back. Shrugs again. Robin doesn’t move.

 

“Didn’t go good,” he admits.

 

“He said.”

 

Eddie called to tell Robin it didn’t go good. Steve sniffles wetly and laughs bitterly. He tilts his head to stare at the drop ceiling tiles. Stops pretending to clean the glass. There’s a brown water stain on the tile right above him. Eddie called to tell Robin it didn’t go good. 

 

“Oh?”

 

“He’s hoping you’ll stop by after work today.” And that’s not what Steve thought she was going to say. Expected Eddie passing on his sympathies. Thanks but no thanks . Steve doesn’t know if he’s brave enough to face Eddie today. His shift ends at four today, with Keith picking up the rest of the day. Tilts his head so it lands on the crown of Robin’s where she’s still leaning on his arm. She’s warm on his cheek.

 

“Why?”

 

“Guess you’ll have to go and find out, huh?” Her voice is gentle and she’s still rubbing circles in his back. 

 

*

 

Robin had planted a wet kiss on his cheek on the way out of Family Video. Keith had scoffed and told them to save it. But Robin had pressed her forehead into Steve’s and bored her eyes into his. She was trying to say something without saying it, was bouncing her eyebrows and her lips had made complex angles. 

 

When he didn’t reply she just sighed and said good luck, dingus . 

 

*

 

And so there Steve sat, in the pullup to Eddie’s trailer. The black van was alone in front of the house and there was a light on at the end where Eddie’s room was. The car ride was a blur. Accomplished purely on autopilot because Steve’s mind was already at the trailer. He wipes his hands on his jeans and pulls himself out of the car. 

 

The stairs groan as he makes his way up to the door. The screen door squeaks on its hinges. Steve knocks in a quick pattern. The one he gives Dustin so that he knows it’s Steve at the door. Thinks Eddie probably knows that by now. Frantically he runs a hand through his hair, pulling it up and over into its usual place. 

 

Eddie flings the door open so hard that Steve jumps back in shock. 

 

“Steve, you came!” The door ricochets on its stopper and slams Eddie in the shoulder. “Shit!” he blurts, placing a hand to the center of the door to stop it. He’s in cutoff jean shorts and a worn black t-shirt with red font. It’s got holes along the collar and is faded to a soft grey. There’s a scrape on his left knee that’s starting to scab up. There’s music coming from somewhere else in the trailer.

 

“Hey,” Steve starts, runs another hand through his hair. “Robin’s said I should–”

 

Eddie’s ushering him in, too loudly saying, “Mhm–Robin, yeah–I called–” but he cuts himself off with a frustrated gentle fist to his temple. Closes the front door behind them. He looks at Steve with a desperate kind of face, a smile so awkward that Steve feels it in his bones. Wants so much he aches. It would be so easy to press his face close and help work away any lingering awkwardness. His hands stay resolutely to his side, shaking slightly and sweating profusely. “Follow me?” 

 

Steve’s not entirely sure he can say no. Knows that there’s really only a few ways this interaction can go and has no fight left in him to stop the kindling hope. 

 

Eddie leads him to his room. Sits on the end and pats next to him for Steve to sit. Steve does and pulls his hands to his lap. Picks at his nails. Forces himself to stop. 

 

They sit in silence for a little while. Just breathing together. Steve’s overwhelmed by Eddie’s scent. Is taking subtle deep breaths and trying to memorize it just in case he never talks to Eddie ever again. He’ll probably love this boy for the rest of his life and wants to keep this for himself. 

 

“I’m worried I’m gonna fuck this up, Stevie,” Eddie whispers into the void.

 

Steve quirks a self-deprecating smile at that, responds, “Think I already did that, Eds.”

 

And that seems to spark a flame in Eddie. He bounds up and paces in front of Steve. Arms are on his hips and hair wild around his face. Even now he’s beautiful. His cheeks are flushed and there’s a stern frown on his face. One that Steve’s only seen when talking with the kids. Steve just watches. For whatever reason Steve focuses on Eddie’s socked feet, takes in the small white bats on the black socks. Feels a soft smile on his face for it. It’s in direct contrast with the chains and the necklaces and the rings. Watches as those feet stop paces the three steps side to side until they’re paused in front of Steve.

 

“Did you mean it?” another whisper, raw and raspy. When Steve looks up and meets Eddie’s eyes he catalogs him. Finally sees the tightness in the corners, the puffiness underneath, the longer stubble, a splattering of stress acne underneath unruly bangs. There’s a tear in his bottom lip, like he tore out a piece of it. It’s red and Steve could just kiss it better.

 

“Yeah, I mean it.” Wipes his hands along his jeans again. Doesn’t let himself look away from Eddie.

 

“Shit,” Eddie sighs. And from anyone else it would sound like a bad thing, but with Eddie it’s amazed, almost doubtful. “Can you–” And he’s there in front of Steve, with Steve's knees pressed on his calves. Steve looks up at him. A hand comes up to press on his cheek. It hovers unsure between them not quite there. “Can you say it again?”

 

Steve shifts so that his jaw is cupped in Eddie’s hand. A thumb swirls gently at the base of it, the cool tinge of rings causes a swallowing void to open up in Steve’s mind. He’s floating and Eddie is holding him there.

 

Steve thinks he can be brave one more time.

 

“I love you.”

 

And wow, Steve thinks for a moment that he’s looking into the sun. A smile so bright and so warm and slowly breaking the horizon that is Eddie’s lips. It’s so tender and Steve’s never seen this one. Can’t remember Eddie ever giving out this smile. A smile tinged with a sadness and a hopefulness and yet heartbreakingly happy. The dimples are still there, a peek of teeth. Eddie puts his forehead to Steve’s, reminiscent of Robin earlier. They’re hidden behind Eddie’s wavy hair, smelling of musky shampoo and Eddie Eddie Eddie .

 

“Jesus H. Christ, Stevie,” he whispers and before Steve can respond, “I love you so fucking much.”

 

Steve kisses him. Sucks in a breath through his nose and presses in close. And Eddie kisses back immediately. The thumb at Steve’s jaw digs in and pulls Steve’s up, fingers looping around to his neck and gripping the short hairs there. Steve leans into it, leans back and pulls Eddie with him till they're both shuffling up the bed. The feeling of worn cotton soft under his fingertips, the idea of more underneath that. Steve’s head swims.

 

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers when they separate for air. His hand is still in Steve’s hair and he ducks for the junction behind Steve’s ear and he can’t stop the soft gasps at that, and the soaring heat that’s running across his entire body from every point of contact. His fingers slip under the shirt, taking in a whole new expanse of soft warm skin that twitches under his touch. Inhales the moan that Eddie releases. Scrapes his fingernails through the trail of hair and Eddie’s muttered fuck, Stevie.

 

“What for?” he finally gets out.

 

“For Saturday,” Eddie explains unsteadily. The hand at Steve’s neck has migrated, is shoving up Steve’s polo until it’s tucked under his armpits. The other is firm at his hip. “For not saying anything.”

 

"It's okay," Steve lies, goes to tug Eddie back to his lips. But Eddie pulls away. Raises on his elbows, lips wet and pink, eyes roaming Steve's face. His breath is warm on Steve's face. Their hips are just off center from one another.

 

"No, Steve, it's not okay." Eddie's voice is soft and angry. Steve can tell it's not directed at him, but something in him still feels small at the tone. 

 

Eddie burrows down into Steve's shoulder. His lips are ghosting over Steve's collar bone and his eyelashes tickle behind his ear. Steve can't help but press his cheek to Eddie's like a cat stretching for contact. It's rough with stubble and that scratch lights something up in Steve.

 

"I'm sorry, Stevie, for freezing on you. You–" His voice is muffled and vibrating through Steve's body. They feel like one person. Steve can feel his heart beating offset to his own right in his chest. It's rabbiting. "You're my friend. Pretty nearly my best friend, man. I didn't want to fuck that up but–" 

 

"But?" 

 

And Steve's hands have minds of their own. They creep up Eddie's back and gently run through those brown locks. It's soft. Softer than Steve has imagined. Wonders if Eddie will teach him how to braid. When he rubs the tips of his fingers deeper in, pressing against his scalp it's like Eddie melts into him further.

 

"You've been killing me lately. Touching me and looking at me like, Jesus Christ, Stevie," Eddie trails kisses up Steve's neck then. Pulls in Steve's earlobe and roves it around his tongue. Steve's hands hover out for a moment before clinging back to Eddie's sides. Feels his fingernails bite into Eddie, holds in a whine.

 

"Why didn't you touch me before?" Steve asks, something that's been bothering him since that night at the school. Eddie had felt so natural then, like he wasn't going to uproot Steve's entire summer in that one touch.

 

"The Untouchable Steve Harrington," Eddie murmurs and it's affectionate but Steve still makes a funny noise at it. Something gross curls up in him and he pulls away from Eddie instantly. Wants to hide whatever expression he's making.

 

"No, no, no, wait," and Steve's arms are held above his head, where they were going to press on Steve's face. Eddie's grip is firm but not unbreakable. "That was always for me ."

 

And Steve stops struggling against Eddie's hands. Just airily makes brief fists with his hands before letting them go. 

 

"What?"

 

"A reminder," he whispers, "to myself. Stop while you're ahead, Eddie. Don't dig yourself in too deep, Eddie." Eyes distant somewhere on the blanket underneath them. 

 

"I wanted you to."

 

Brown eyes snap to Steve's. They're still hazy, but are slowly focusing on Steve. And Steve can feel how he looks. Half-hard and flushed. Licks his lips and watches Eddie trail with it. His hair is a halo below him and the grip on his wrists is making him float away from his body.

 

"I wanted you to, Eds. All the time."

 

"Fuck."

 

And Eddie's slamming right back into Steve. His lips are unyielding, commanding, and Steve melts backwards into the bed. Feels how Eddie's grip tightens on his wrists. No one else has kissed him like this, has bitten his bottom lip until he gasps. And when he does, licks inside.

 

Eddie tastes like cigarettes and Coke and it makes Steve crave too many things at once. When Steve tilts his jaw forward, he bites down on Eddie's lip. Feels the stubble scratch his upper lips. A rumble vibrates through both of them, from Eddie to Steve and down to Steve's dick. It's enough to break the hold on Steve's wrists, has Eddie's hands cupping his jaw and neck instead.

 

Steve urges Eddie's up, doesn't break their kiss until he's pulling that worn black shirt off of him. Pulls his own polo off while he's at it. Dives right back in afterwards. Eddie's in his lap now, their dicks pressed together and the friction has Steve rolling his hips up, hands grasping at hips and belt loops.

 

Eddie's scar is rough under his palm and he takes care to be gentle. Knows that it cut through one of Eddie's tattoos until it's more grotesque looking than it had been before.

 

And he remembers the tattoo on his thigh suddenly. Trails his hand down so it's riding the line between skin and denim. He pulls back enough to feel Eddie's breath on his face.

 

"Can I–?" Steve feels rubbed raw

 His voice reflects that. It's rough coming out, needy and an edge of a whine. Steve doesn't really know what he'd do if Eddie said no.

 

But Eddie doesn't say no, whispers out a desperate, "Shit, yeah, yes , anything you want, Steve."

 

Steve grips around Eddie's waist again, hauls himself up and flips them so Eddie's on his back.

 

Eddie's eyes are blown wide and mouth dropped in a small oh. 

 

"That was so hot. Jesus Christ, I am going to think about that for way too long," Eddie mutters, high and to himself. 

 

Steve just laughs, says back, shut up, and buries his face down in Eddie's neck. Does what Eddie did to him earlier. Kisses up and up, sucking in and roving skin around his teeth to make marks. Loves the sounds Eddie isn't embarrassed to make. Soft, gentle sounds that rock through Steve's skull. Hands that grip tightly to the back of Steve's neck. That pull on his hair enough to make Steve go a little out of his mind. 

 

He aligns their hips again, rolls forward to match a rhythm with Eddie. Steve's hand is gripping at Eddie's thigh. Probably too hard, fingertips directly on that slightly hidden tattoo. He doesn't even know what it is yet, has already decided its his favorite one.

 

His hands find the buttons of Eddie's jeans and begin working their way down them. There's no zipper, just five silver buttons. It's slow going but Steve never breaks their kiss. Keeps sighing into Eddie's mouth, pauses sometimes to grind upward into his hips. The press of metal to his inner thigh bites like flames licking at him.

 

And the sounds Eddie's making. Unconscious, uncontrolled, and so sweet. Steve's boxing them up. He's hoping that he won't have to keep them. That they'll do this again and again and Eddie will always make these noises for him.

 

When the last button is undone, Steve breaks their kiss and gasps out heaving breaths.

 

"Up," he manages, hands at Eddie's hips. Eddie complies easily. His shorts peel off and show black underwear with a damp spot where the head of his cresting cock strains. And Steve's ready for the taste of it in his mouth. Finds himself distracted again by the thigh tattoo.

 

It's a coffin. It's black lines only and it's surrounded by a familiar haze of vines and thorns from the Upside Down. The Creel stained glass window is prominent on the front of the coffin.

 

Steve's been staring too long. Lets himself smooth a hand down the image.

 

"That fucker couldn't get me," Eddie whispers. Steve's eyes snap back to his face. His beautiful flushed face with swollen lips and askew hair. He looks fucked out and they haven't even started. His grip tights on the tattoo until it's probably painful.

 

"Can't have you," Steve mutters before tipping back into their kiss.

 

Steve's pants come off next, in an awkward tumble that leaves both of them breathless from laughing. Eddie's hands are warm. Almost too warm. They're heating something up in Steve. Echoing across his skin enough to spark goosebumps. Eddie's smile is sweet, tastes sweet and looks soft and is pressed gently into the crook of Steve's shoulder, into the scars on his belly, the sharpness of his hip. All of them leave Steve wanting more and so warm deep inside. Steve doesn't think he's ever been this warm.

 

Steve follows suit. He traces his tongue on the coffin tattoo, meets lips with the skull tattoo on Eddie's chest, grinds slowly against Eddie's hips so they're both gasping into each other's mouths as much as kissing.

 

And Steve's ready for more, thinks that he's ready for all of this with Eddie. Eddie's underwear is worn soft. The waistband is a little overstretched, giving room for Steve's hand as it slips in.

 

Eddie's face transforms when Steve fully grips him. Goes distant and floaty when Steve starts up a slow rhythm, only awkward because of the angle. He's soft and smooth and big in Steve's hand. Steve can imagine it on his tongue. Can almost taste it. There's a thatch of hair at the base and Steve can't help but dip to follow the trail on Eddie's stomach until he's almost there.

 

"You too, you–" Eddie's murmuring, nearly quiet, but demanding. "Off, yours off too."

 

Steve's flipped back over, with Eddie above him now. Brown hair curtains around them so they're shielded together. His hand is still on Eddie's cock and he doesn't let up the pace. Eddie's pressing wet kisses in his hair and pulling at Steve's boxers until they're at his knees.

 

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Eddie whispers silently. It vibrates across Steve's bones and he shudders with it. His mind goes spacey and everything is notched up to a million.

 

Eddie bats Steve's hand off, pulls his underwear completely off, and aligns their dicks together.

 

Eddie's fingers are more calloused than Steve's. And even though Eddie had seemed nervous before, he wasn't anymore. There was a certainty to the broadness of his shoulders, a firmness to his grip, and he set a brutal rhythm for them both.

 

It left Steve floating and hot and making noises he didn't know he could. His hands wrap around Eddie's neck, pull him in close.

 

"You like that?" Eddie rasps in his ear. Loops his tongue around the lobe, breath hot. "Stevie-baby, you like that?" Twists his wrist so that his palm curves around them both at a new angle. 

 

Steve's close, he's painfully close. Can feel the ebb in his groin and the white flare is spreading around the edges of his eyes. All he can see is Eddie. He's saying something, words are coming out of Steve's mouth but he's not processing them. They feel like yes and please and Eddie . Whatever they are they cause Eddie's pupils to blow wider, ricochet a groan through both their chests.

 

"Come for me?" Eddie pants and Steve's nodding already. "Wanna see–" Wet kisses along his forehead and hairline. "Wanna see you," whispered so desperately, on the verge of coming himself.

 

Steve lets go. Lets the scent of Eddie overwhelm him, the rough feel of rings and callous on his cock pulling out a silent, open-mouthed orgasm. Feels cum stick to his chest and stomach, warm for a brief moment before cooling. He's above his body, in his body, low in his mind. His eyes are unseeing as they blink. 

 

Eddie's still going. His hand is slick now, working quicker and quicker. He's puffing breaths between them. Whispering quietly to himself as he gets himself to the edge.

 

"My good boy, huh, Stevie? So good–" he gasps, "for me, so–"

 

Steve licks his lips and hums in agreement, nearly unaware that he's doing it. The words settle somewhere deep in him, make him drop somewhere in his mind. His mouth feels sticky and heavy when he opens it and mumbles out uh-huh for you .

 

With a shout, Eddie spills over. And he's beautiful. Is always beautiful. Flushed and hand still mindlessly moving until Steve whines, oversensitive.

 

Steve wakes up with Eddie hovering above him. Blinks rapidly to clear his vision. He's cleaned up. Can feel where a washcloth has been dragged across his stomach.

 

Eddie's eyebrows are low in concern, but dip out when Steve reaches a hand up to rub at his eyes.

 

"There you are," and it's filled with such fondness. Steve just hums, presses his face like a needy cat into Eddie's seeking palm. Pulls Eddie down enough to kiss him on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. Until he's laughing quietly and blushing a red color. 

 

"It was for me, wasn't it?"

 

Eddie gives a small grin, half embarrassed and half the little shit that he can be. Steve traces a fingertip against that smile. Watches as it shifts into some sweeter, tender.

 

"Yeah, Stevie, it was for you.

 

And Steve's feeling all the places Eddie's touched him like they're solar flares. He's heavier than he's felt in a long time. Closer to the earth. Knows that he's going to tell Robin about this when he sees her tomorrow. But for now he just presses another kiss to Eddie's lips, feels that stubble tickle him. Hums to himself, pulls back enough to grind his cheek onto Eddie's. Relishes how it feels. A kiss is dropped to his shoulder.

 

"Can we listen to it?" Steve mumbles.

 

Eddie chuckles, squishes himself tight down into Steve. He gets up slowly and Steve takes that release to pull his boxers off all the way. Tears for Fears kicks off and Eddie's humming along to it when he settles back into Steve's side.

 

Steve eyes droop a few songs later. He's since wrapped up in Eddie. Their legs are tangled and Steve's head is cushioned on his stomach. Eddie's playing with his hair. Steve remembers he wants to learn how to braid. Feels the thought drift out when he closes his eyes all the way. 

 

Eddie's right here , Steve thinks to himself. This time it's not a lie.

 

Steve sleeps.

Notes:

I haven't written anything in ages, but here we are. Please let me know what you think!