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♡♡♡
Steve Harrington has felt like he must be missing something for a long time. Or he cannot explain the ongoing feeling of hollowness.
At first, he thought it was the lack of company, since his parents were never there after he landed in junior high. He quickly learned to use actively associating in schoolwork to fix it, specifically in leading the basketball team, dating cheerleaders, throwing countless parties in his parents’ giant house, reigning supreme over the hallway and stuff. It made him feel better, before it somehow got even worse. The “better”, was the intense emotional stimulation during all the adrenaline-flooded games, random make-outs out back of the gym, unhealthy beer downing, and bubbling euphoric giggles. The ‘even worse’ hit him hard without attracting any mind or time from his parents.
So, he gave up and gave in. Steve fully embraced the King of Hawkins High cool kid act, and fell into the vicious cycle: go to school, be that jock, party with Tommy and Carol, get drunk and self-hatred, repeat.
Until, he met Nancy.
For a minute, he was so convinced that Nancy Wheeler was the best thing that ever happened to him. She is sweet, smart, and strong. She was something right and real to Steve, for so long.
She just might be something that is missing for him, Steve thought.
It turned out the opposite. He guessed he is just not something missing for her.
However, Steve is still convinced that Nancy Wheeler is one of the best things that ever happened to him, alongside Dustin, Robin, and the rest of the party. Even though, in his downtime between playing basketball, babysitting around Hawkins, teaching Robin to drive, disappointing his absent parents, and getting beaten by humans in this dimension while beating monsters from another, Steve was feeling a little off, a little missing, again.
This is not as bad as the previous time. His teenage and non-teenage friends are amazing, and he is forever grateful for them existing. He felt fine, in general. Yet, when he was back in that giant house, curling up in his bed all by himself at night, his chest was so tight as if he was aching for something. He didn’t even understand what it was or where the aching came from, he only hoped it was a phase.
But it’s not.
Steve didn’t know if it was for the better or the worse that Upside Down made a comeback, just that it permitted him to push his problems aside for now. Okay, it was absolutely the “worse”, the worst. Steve would never wish for an Upside Down catastrophe, resulting in so many people dead and Max’s broken limbs, to take a break from his minor glitch. They were so much bigger than him.
However, if he needed to be 100% honest with himself, he did like the pure closeness to fight the evil side by side with his friends, and he even liked himself slightly better, when he was protecting the ones he cared about. And maybe this town, too. Like in the kids’ favorite sci-fi franchises, it was protagonists (them) against the world. No judgment, please. The similar physical and psychological closeness that he only let himself feel during those intense games, make-outs, and parties. Except, now it feels genuine, and it lasts.
If he needed to be extra honest with himself, he felt the most when he was with Eddie.
Yes, your honour, it is the very Eddie Munson — spattered with black tattoos, wearing too many layers, showy rings, and curly hair, invading people’s spaces then bouncing away like a stray cat, and making every dorky nonsense extremely interesting even on a hospital bed — who is leaning at the Family Video counter, and not making a fuss about the movie selection currently, “With all due respect, Harrington. I just can’t let you make us watch Dirty Dancing again, especially before some senior members of our exclusive movie club leave. I just can’t.”
“What’s wrong with it? Baby and Johnny find each other through some heated dancing. Isn’t it romantic?” Steve argues while arranging the inventory lists. It’s a typical slow Tuesday morning, no lousy customers, no disturbing kids, and Steve likes to spend the time with Robin (and Eddie) here.
“It’s just...” Eddie is uncharacteristically stuttering, blinking slowly as if he’s lost the ability to find the right words.
Steve crosses out the wrong serial number he copied, cursing under his breath for observing Eddie too closely.
“It is simply the clichést and dumbest movie, Steve!” Robin chimes in, “And what do you think would actually happen, after Baby goes bad because of an over-romanticized, good-for-nothing Johnny, huh?”
“You’re just being too harsh on him. Give it another chance, it may grow on you.”
“Never!” Robin yells at him incredulously.
“Fine!” Steve grumbles, he is such a pushover for them anyway, “And I’m gonna transfer my movie selection right to Eddie this time, because, ouch, Robin, you really hurt me.”
“Oh, Stevie, I know you like me more. No offense, Buckley.” Eddie beams at him and disappears to the horror section, while Robin rolls her eyes and turns back to the computer, “Of course he does.”
“Robin!” Steve’s face is momentarily flaming, and he hisses by whispering after Eddie is totally out of sight, “Are you trying to murder me here?”
“Sorry dingus.” Robin is not sorry at all, but she whispers back respectfully, “I can't spend another day listening to you pine over him! I mean, dude, you are the ‘lady killer’ Steve Harrington! What is taking you so long? Just go ahead and woo him already!”
Steve can’t be thankful enough for how loud The Karate Kid is playing in the background, and snaps in a whisper, “You said it yourself, ‘lady killer’ not ‘gentleman killer’!”
Steve is well educated by the certified best lesbian in Hawkins — Robin Buckley, that people can like female, male, and non-binary. People can like neither female, male, nor non-binary. It is all totally cool.
So when Steve discovered his impulsive moping for Eddie (such as: why can’t Eddie come and hang out with him more often, why can’t Eddie stay at his house longer after the campaign, why can’t he grab and hold Eddie to his chest every time Eddie does something endearing, oh, that’s an easy one.) are not entirely out of platonic intentions, honestly, he isn’t that surprised. Or he is. Sort of surprised that he’s not that surprised. Does he make any sense? Who cares.
Robin often acts like she knows everything, but she wasn’t there when he practically ‘outed’ himself in Wheeler’s basement one month ago. Well... in fact, she was there. But still.
Steve didn’t regret it, though. In his defense, it wasn’t his fault that Nancy was determined to take advantage of their working at Family Video to watch the R-rated Risky Business. For obvious reasons, she couldn’t before. So when the famous playing broom guitar without pants scene played, it, of course, prompted some embarrassed coughs and fumbles, and covering their red faces suspiciously (that’s Will the Wise for ya).
Steve saw a good parental moment and grasped it, “Kids, I just want all of you to know, it’s not a big deal to think Tom Cruise is hot, alright? Look Nancy and I, we worked out just fine.”
The basement started to shriek, in embarrassment.
Nancy shot him a look, like she couldn’t decide whether to smack him or give him a hug for that ambush. Nevertheless, as a sensible and responsible adult, she then looked around the room and said, “Yeah, it’s not a big deal at all. And folks, my bad for choosing this movie. I just thought it could be light and fun... Okay, and it has Tom Cruise.”
“Fair point. Who could say no to that face. I know I can’t.” Eddie jumped in so casually, and earned some nods, eye rolls, and chuckles of agreement. Nancy got a bit flushed, but still smiled at him graciously. Eddie returned with a big smirk, showing his dimples. And Steve — might or might not — have glanced at Eddie for that.
“And Rebecca De Mornay’s face, too.” There came Robin, a little less certain and sharp as usual. Nancy squeezed her forearm supportingly.
“She’s pretty. Like Nancy.” Eleven confirmed.
“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, El. You’re pretty, too.” Nancy then gave Mike who currently was being an unsettling brat for this level of sappiness, a quick sibling glare, “Now that I know it’s not very family-friendly, we could always switch to Star Trek.”
The kids all approved in cheers, and Dustin pouted, “Finally! Can we watch a movie now? Ow- Max! What’s that for?”
“For my elbow rehab.” Max answered as a matter of fact, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth. Steve just loved this kid.
It appeared that they handled it pretty well, Steve thought. After all, the whole gang received the group revelation calm, cool, and collected. Steve almost wanted to give himself (and Nancy) a pat on the back.
But for now, this is neither important nor urgent. Because Robin, who almost just called him out, is pressing closer, “And you aren’t denying it, you shameless slut!” Then she swiftly craned her neck to peer at Eddie’s location, full-on spying on Russian spies mode.
“Seriously? You are slut-shaming me now?”
“NO. There is nothing to be ashamed of whether you’re sexually active. Or not.” Robin emphasizes the latter, and swings back to face Steve, sounding much more sincere this time, “We do need to talk about it, later.”
Their little session was interrupted by Eddie waltzing back with a tape labeled Nosferatu the Vampyre. He announced it like he’d found lost treasure in the uncharted, “People, look what I’ve got!”
“Great choice! How do you know I like Isabelle Adjani? She’s just breathtaking in it!” Robin takes the tape and hands it over to Steve, suddenly hovering behind her.
“What can I say, Buckley. You and I, person of taste.”
“Touché. Unlike somebody here.”
“Come on, hating horror movies doesn’t mean I have bad taste.” Steve defends, “And what about Nance’s choice of Risky Business?”
“Sure, that’s bad, too. But don’t drag Nancy into this. She’s not here so it’s not cool. And it’s not just about genres.” Robin puts her hands on her forehead tiredly.
Steve decides he won’t take the bullying anymore, and shoves Robin away annoyingly, which, leaves him face-to-face with Eddie, somewhat alone. He feels so aware of this fact that his nerves start to creep in from his spine. Why did Robin have to bring his crush up? Now Steve’s way too self-conscious about his face warming up. And he is just staring at Eddie. Not so cool. What he do? Say something, anything,
“It’s on the house, like always...... Umm, I, uh — yeah, I’ll see you Sunday?”
He’s rushing Eddie out.
God, he’s useless.
“I’ll see you, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at him, again. What’s with all these lovable smiles? Then he calls out toward the stockroom, “Buckley, my friend, go easy on him.”
Then, with a dramatic two-finger salute, Eddie’s gone.
And Steve’s gone, too. So, so gone.
“Did you hear what he just said? Literally everything he’s said today, and recently. He’s not ganging up on you, with me! And all these ‘Stevie’. And the ‘easy on you’. What does it say about him?” Robin jumps back and knocks Steve on the arm, “Hey, ground control to dingus.”
“I’m here, Robs. It says you could be reading into wrong signals... He’s just a natural flirt and a nicer friend! And, and... ”
“You could be blind to signals all this time.” Robin raises both her hands to make a point.
“Then how about you and Vickie? What are the odds she just happened to be your campus tour guide on the open day, huh? But it just happened! It’s like, total romcom serendipity!”
“... It’s, It’s not the same—there is no ‘me and Vickie’! We don’t know she’s interested in me like that.”
“You didn’t know that!”
“You didn’t know that, either!” Robin snarls.
They both stand there, staring quietly at each other for some moments. Steve feels the need to say something reassuring but Robin beats him to it, “I’m sorry... Oh my god... we are so hopeless.”
Steve doesn’t like this. They’ve been circling the same subject with doubts and fears long enough. Maybe it’s only been about several months since his realization, and one month since their revelations. But time flies. Their injuries were healed in spring and now summer’s almost over soon. Steve is not patient, and he can’t just wait for things to happen.
Something’s gotta change, something needs to change. Or it never will.
It’s not like the world’s gonna end, if they do something about their love lives. Though he’ll probably thrive at the end of the world. Might even qualify for training end-of-world survivalists.
Steve nudges her on the shoulder and says, “Not hopeless... Clueless, probably.”
“I wish I had half your confidence when I am around Vickie.” Robin sighs, deeply.
“I know. I wish I were half your smart when I talk to Eddie... But hey, look at the bright side, we both have a person of interest at least.” Steve smiles at her, like he knows what exactly they are so insecure about. Because he does now. “Robs, she is interested. We’ve established that so many times. Since you’re my outsider eye and I’m yours, I will trust you on this, and you will need to trust me, okay? We can do this.”
“Okay... But what if, what if we are both wrong?”
“Well, we’ve been through some tortures. So... I say it’s easy to find a dirty mall bathroom, go sit there and cry, together.”
“Wow, what a solid action plan.” Robin barks a laugh with her watercolor eyes, “I think we should find a clean bathroom.”
“Yeah, maybe another solid plan first?”
♥♥♥
Eddie Munson’s life has changed so much after the Upside Down.
It’s not like he’s annoyed with his life before it. Sure, he lived in a crappy trailer park with his uncle, Wayne, after his mom died when he was about 7. Shortly his father did something shady and skipped town before he was even proven guilty. Eww, who was he kidding? He’d agree with the town for once: whatever it was, that dickhead did it, as always. But he got Wayne. The kindest guy on earth. And truth be told, he was better off without his biological father.
Okay, so he’s a freak, playing board game, listening to noisy metal music, and lurking in the bottom layer of the high school food chain. Oh, he failed to graduate, twice. But he doesn’t need to be book-smart to get a minimum-wage job, and he can handle addition and subtraction within 20 just fine. And the third time’s a charm, isn’t it? What’s more? Oh, right, he’s queer. This part could be new, even to this crazy town. But he wasn’t about to let his queerness be the only thing that defined him.
So far, so good. He was going to pass all his classes, including P.E., grab his diploma from the Principle—hypocrite of hypocrites—Higgins, take the money saved from dealing with those rich kids, and get the hell out of this shithole for good. Don’t worry, he’d visit Wayne from time to time.
Except, Upside Down happened.
He lost tons of blood, his shabby trailer, and his dignity — in front of his favorite Hellfire member, Dustin, and Steve Fucking Harrington. He owes his life to them as well as to Nancy and Robin, and seemingly to everyone who was not just saving and carrying his sorry ass from hell, but also clearing his name. Turns out, knowing a guy on the inside really helped.
Eddie wanted to say he hated Steve Harrington. The popular, good-looking, perfectly normal douche-bag who ruled the school, and will expand his regime by inheriting his family’s influence on this town after graduation. But the truth? He didn’t really pay much attention to people like Steve before. The only interaction he ever wanted with them was when they needed weed, and most of the time he usually kept his safety distance. Unless it was lunchtime, and Eddie felt like putting on a little show for his people.
Steve never came to him for weed, though. He probably had somebody else do it for him—what an easy life to live, Eddie thought. By the time Eddie was repeating senior year for the second time, rumors had it that Steve Harrington had fallen from grace. He still didn’t care then — too busy focusing on graduating, and DnD, and band. When he picked up Dustin, Mike, and Lucas for Hellfire on his third time around, the last thing he ever expected was that they were Steve’s kids.
Dustin wouldn’t shut up about Steve. That kid worships him. At first, Eddie was doubtful. So deeply doubtful. Because just how far had the King fallen to go from Hawkins’s reigning jock to an approachable big brother next door? No way. But then Lucas mentioned their basketball practices, and even Mike sometimes would call Steve—of all people—to chauffeur them home when campaigns ran late.
The douche-bag King Steve was actually not a douche-bag anymore? He’s just a “cool” guy who kids look up to, who switched social sides towards a school band girl, his ex-girlfriend, and his ex’s current boyfriend (seriously, what kind of weird combo was that?), and worked a part-time job. And Steve would even greet Eddie with a polite and unnecessarily charming wave whenever they sprinted off to the parking lot.
Why did he have to be so nice? And charming? And having it all? The universe is so unfair. Eddie wasn’t doubtful anymore. He was all jealous. And bitter. Whatever, their paths were unlikely to cross again once he was finally out of here, right?
Wrong.
It was too late for Eddie to realize that he was somehow always wrong about his estimated time of graduation, his life, and this world. And Steve Fucking Harrington, apparently. Because now, he belonged to Steve’s weird little combo. He got to really know him (not through Henderson, for fuck’s sake), and bonded with him, in the most ferocious ride-or-die situation ever. And his pathetic jealousy turned into something closer to admiration.
Eddie ought to be highly averse to conflict and risk. He's an outlier, a doubter, and a bolter. In every fight-freeze-or-flight scenario, he always chose flight. Perhaps it's inked into his DNA, no thanks to his fleeing dad. Except for that one time in the bats battle. He wasn't sure what got the best of him — Steve and Nancy's infectious impetuosity? Guilt over Chrissy’s death? Fear for Dustin and Wayne’s lives? Or just got to fulfill his prophetic bats tattoo, maybe. At the moment, as Eddie charging towards the demobatornado, he really hoped he was Steve. He wanted to be brave. To care and protect people. To choose fight over flight every time. To put himself in front of others so carelessly.
And maybe, just maybe, that admiration had turned into something like a crush too.
What? He’s only human. A lonely gay kid in a small town. With eyes, and desires. If he slipped out a harmless flirty “big boy” to Steve, it was because life-threatening experiences could truly do things to a person. Thank you very much.
When it’s all said and done, he’s got so many bat-bitten scars, metal as hell, and matching with Steve’s by the way (oh stop it), a brand new trailer, and a hard-earned high school diploma (because recovering in peace was overrated — why not form a study group with scary Wheeler, moral support Buckley, and distracting Harrington?). Plus, too too many friends/family/trauma-bonded-comrades?.
Why isn’t everybody getting sick of him by now? This world is full of bizarre things Eddie can’t figure out.
Either way, he’s now an “honorable” Hawkins High graduate, an alleged “hero” of the earthquake (albeit some townspeople still don’t buy that government-cooked-up story. Hard to blame them. Shit happens; people forget and move on. This time, Eddie doesn’t have complaints.). And, a babysitter of 7 teenagers, sharing custody with Steve, seemingly.
How did this become his life? Guess he just needs to learn to make peace with it again.
He was fine to keep the crush thing all to himself. He’s an experienced straight guy crusher. It will pass. It always will. He can just be friends with Steve. And it’s totally doable. He can do it.
He just didn’t know it would be this difficult. And clearly, Steve’s not going to make it easier by coming out to them. Wait, Steve did come out to them, right? It’s not just one of Eddie’s make-believe stories, right? And Eddie’s not captured by Mind Flayer, and this is all delusion only existing in his head, right? Well, that last one is impossible now. Let’s just say Steve is attracted to his gender. That doesn’t guarantee that Steve will be automatically attracted to him, Eddie “The Freak” Munson, like some imprinting syndrome.
And wait, did he come out to them, too? Hey, he was just helping Nancy out and this is what it paid back to him. Eddie started to realize that having more than one person who you care about, and who cares about you (just say family), is actually a lot to deal with.
To his relief, his chaotic lizard brain was comforted a little by Wayne and Max during their weekly dinner gathering thingy. And it brought them all closer.
His uncle was many great things but not a man of many words. But after he teared up when he finally saw Eddie in the hospital and spent nearly every day there, he tried to have more conversations with Eddie. Wayne talked mostly, and Eddie listened, which was a rare occurrence. Wayne told him about some fun things at work, as well as some sports or fishing trivia. They are actually quite interesting stories. Eddie found out how much he didn’t know about Wayne, swore he will never make Wayne cry again (unless it’s happy tears), and would talk to and listen to Wayne as much as he’ll allow him.
Max is just a bonus track he never asked for. He regarded it as the side effect of being the nearest trusted adult, since Max’s mom was taking extra night shifts at a diner on weekends. He really liked to spend time with her. She talked to him about school, comics, her latest interests, and occasionally about bad dreams that haunted them both. Eddie talked to her about music, campaigns, and his upcoming gig, and made her promise she wouldn’t sneak to see him play until she was 18. Sometimes they’d talk about boy problem, too. It was usually Max doing the talking while braiding his hair (yeah, he lets her do that, sue him), and Eddie would share some inside info about Lucas, and they’d laugh together with Eleven on the line.
So it’s not that unexpected when Max confronted him on one Saturday after his positive comment on Tom Cruise.
“Are you gonna ask Steve out to your gig?” Max asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the double sofa, face in her hands, waiting for Eddie to play his Kate Bush cover.
“What?!” Eddie’s eyes widened, nearly dropping his true love onto the floor—his guitar of course, not some human.
“Geez, thought you weren’t old enough to lose your hearing. I bet it’s metal’s fault.” Max rolled her eyes affectionately.
“Red!”
“I was just saying, are, you, gonna, ask, Steve, out, or, not?”
“No, I’m not? Why are you—it’s not—we’re... what’s going on here?” Eddie flinched, he’d rather bleed to death than get interrogated by a 16-year-old who happened to be as sharp as a shark.
Max looked at him like he was the oblivious moron, “You’re gay and into him. And he’s into guys now. So, why not? You’d be good together. Unconventional, but cute.”
God, this kid really knew how to tear him down and then beam him up. It took every bit of strength Eddie had left to avoid getting all floaty from her words, even if she might have a point. No, not the time, Munson!
“This is music time, or you’ll never listen to this baby again!”
“Yeah, I will. And don’t try to change the subject, Eddie.” Max replied so unquestionably.
“You have no better things to do than matchmaking the only two gay males you know?”
“There’s also Will. But you two are like dinosaurs to him, so duh...” Max sassed.
“Mayfield!”
“Eddie! Answer my question! And you’re starting to sound like him...”
“No! And I’m not into him!”
“Try again!”
“...He’s not into me!” Eddie blurted, just wanting to get it over with.
Max smirked contentedly, like she was onto the biggest secret mission, “We’ll see about that.”
Great, just another thing he needed to stress about.
Eddie really could use more time to deal with it (let it die down), and he didn’t know what Max was plotting and he didn’t want to know. Weeks passed. Nothing felt weird between them. Everything was friendly and normal. It’s another group therapy movie night. Hence, there he is again, crowded on Steve’s fancy couch, with Steve,
“Come up here, Robs. Plenty of space on the couch.” Steve backs away to the armrest rapidly, dragging Robin up.
“You could just ask!” Robin pushes Steve back. They fight like two teenagers and then get shushed by the real teenagers on the carpet.
And Robin... Eddie doesn’t know whether he should be thankful or frustrated about this involuntary buffer.
“You alright there, Eddie?” Steve tilts his head and checks in, like he always does, his big hazel eyes reflecting the screen’s light.
“All good here, Harrington!” Eddie gives two thumbs up, then shrinks between the cushions as Steve turns back to the screens, settling into the movie.
It’s a good movie (for sure). The uncanny and solitary atmosphere, the incredibly beautiful cinematography, and Adjani’s enchanting performance. However, he does have one problem with the blood-sucking scene — grabbing the breast is just redundant to his taste. Max and Eleven seem to enjoy it too. He’s so proud of his girls.
Frankly, it’s more of a fantasy movie than a horror, just Gothic creepy in a good way. But it must be painfully slow for Steve, since he falls asleep before they even get halfway through. Don’t ask how Eddie noticed before anyone else. He won’t tell.
Nancy and Jonathan attentively take over the driving duties. Robin hushes and herds the kids out of the house, while delegating Eddie to stay behind and clean up.
Max tells him she’ll sleep over at the Byers’ and says, “You owe me one,” then “wink-winks” him smugly. Eddie pretends not to hear or see that, and waves them off.
Everyone leaves, and suddenly, it’s just Steve and him in the living room. He tidies up the mess quietly as Steve’s still asleep. He decides to wait a little longer before waking Steve up, because he knows how hard it’s been for all of them to sleep soundly recently.
Steve is sunk into the corner of the couch, head thrown back. Eddie can’t help but stare at Steve’s moles, just below the jaw and above the neck, like he’s stargazing. Steve certainly has the perfect neck for someone to put their canine teeth on. Call Eddie biased. It rises and falls with every breath he takes, vulnerably, dangerously, invitingly.
It triggers something repressed deep in Eddie’s dry throat. An instinct, a desire, a craving, coaxing him to bite the side of Steve’s bare neck, to lick across the slope, and to taste the skin with his tongue.
Thump-thump, thump-thump. He is hearing each beat of his own heart, throbbing, echoing in the room.
Jesus Fucking Christ, what is he thinking right now?
This is creepy freaky. Even by his standards. This is nowhere near the “normal friends” zone — it’s some full-blown “dude, back up” territory. Damn it, he should’ve just let them watch Dirty Dancing, or Ferris Bueller's Day Off, or Pretty in Pink or anything Steve likes. Now he’s clearly possessed. By the Dracula in Nosferatu they just watched together. By whatever dark force possessed Adjani in Possession. It’s the only explanation.
Leave this body, Dracula! Begone, horny demon!
Seriously, he should cool it off, and wake Steve up before he commits something stupid and irrevocable. He should. Like now. Also, Steve’s neck will definitely hurt like hell when he gets up. Eddie remembers Wayne complaining about cervical pain after dozing off like this on their old pull-out. He inhales and exhales a few times, feeling somewhat normal. Bless his heart. Then he calls, in a voice so gentle that he can’t even recognize it, “Steve, wake up.”
“Ah?” Steve sits up so quickly, like a spooked wild animal, the blanket sliding to the floor, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s all good. Everything’s fine.” Eddie wants to hit himself for not being gentler, “The movie’s over, and everybody went home.”
“Oh, oh. Okay. Great.” Steve’s glassy eyes clear up, ”Guess I missed the movie, huh?”
“Yeah, pretty much half of it. Basically all the good stuff.”
“Doubt it. I barely tolerate your taste in horror movies.”
"I barely tolerate your taste in synth-pop music."
"Oh, screw you!"
“Whoa. Very grumpy, Harrington.” Eddie raises his hands in surrender.
“Um, sorry.” Steve ducks his head, and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I could be a little grumpy when I’m tired.”
“I don’t mind.” Eddie doesn’t. Not in the slightest.
Steve smiles at Eddie’s words, then looks around the cleaned room, “Thanks for cleaning up, man.” Then he notices the clock on the wall, seeming a little annoyed by something. He looks back at Eddie again, and says, “... Hey, you could, uh... stay for the night?” He shrugs, “In the guest room? ... It’s getting kinda late.”
Is Steve giving him pleading puppy eyes, or is he still possessed?
Eddie would be an absolute liar if he said he didn’t at least consider this proposition. It’s so tempting and he is a weak man. But, “Um... I can’t. I promised Wayne I’d be home for his dinner or say, breakfast?” Eddie fiddles with the rings on his right hand and mutters, “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be... I don’t want to make Wayne worry about you.” Steve’s voice drops, and he’s so down all of a sudden. “... I shouldn’t keep you, then.”
Eddie’s stomach twitches at the way Steve sounds. He almost thinks Steve wants him to stay as badly as he does.
Steve walks him to his car silently, and stops by the driver’s seat. Eddie turns around, opening his mouth to say goodbye. Steve just stands there, looks at him, and keeps looking at him, reminding Eddie of that time at Family Video.
Max may be right after all.
Here goes nothing, he thinks.
Eddie takes a deep breath, avoiding Steve’s gaze (Interpersonal Tactics 101). Instead of a goodbye, he suggests tentatively, “Speaking of music, how about you coming to my gig next time?”
Oh great, this is the line you go with? Very smooth, Munson.
Roll again! He digs his fingers into his palm, feeling the cold rings wrapping tightly, and quickly adds, “I can offer you some proper musical education for free.”
Ha, even smoother! Where are all your Dungeon Master inducing skills when you need them?
Steve looks obviously surprised, his mouth forming a small “oh.”
That’s not right. That’s not good.
How the tables have turned, huh. Turns out he’s not the Dungeon Master playing god, crashing people’s painstakingly crafted characters. He’s the sophisticated Bard, failing a Charisma check with a natural 1 against a non-playable character he can’t read (Steve). Eddie has no time to feel sorry for his fellow cursed-luck players, because this is not a game. This is his life.
He’s right about to hop on into his van and get his weed money and drive to Indianapolis overnight and catch the earliest plane to Costa Rica and never look back again.
But then Steve’s face lights up, and his eyes are back to puppy mode, “You want me there?”
“Yes of course!” Eddie nearly screams the answer. Not a game, thank fuck. Eddie would’ve screamed to the whole world just to show how much he needs Steve to be there—but he also needs to be appropriate and not scare Steve off, “Been dying for new groupies other than Wayne and Gareth’s mom, for ages.”
“Oh screw you.” Steve croaks fondly. Eddie wants to record those three words onto his cassette and play them over and over. How could he never think of bringing one with him before?
“Already in character for me, Stevie?” Eddie teases, noticing Steve struggle to hide his smile. Because he doesn’t know when to stop and has zero self-control. “I’ll see you at Hideout? I’ll tell you when once the slot’s locked for us.”
“Cool. I’ll see you there, Eddie.”
Isn’t that all Eddie’s ever wanted?
♡♡♡
“Robin, you gotta help me!” Steve shouts the minute she shuts the passenger door, ”I have a date!”
“I’m not driving today?” Robin questions. After receiving Steve’s panicked look, she fastens the seat belt and says, “Sure, whatever. But me? Help you date? With whom?”
“With James Dean as Jim Stark in Rebel Without a Cause that Joyce rewatched with us.” Steve deadpans, then raises his voice again, “Really? Of course, it’s with Eddie! Who else could I be talking about?”
“With Eddie?!” Robin blinks. It takes a second before she fully registers, and she begins to shout as well, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! I thought you missed your first strike, and we’d need to come up with another plan... I can’t believe it! How did you bring it off? This is huge! Tell me everything! Waitwaitwait, did you fuck him after we left? You did, did you? Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it. Just answer with yes or no.”
Steve is so thrilled by Robin’s baseball reference, and he’ll definitely throw it back in her face, another time. He goes nonchalantly, “The answers are no, I didn’t ask him out; no, it didn’t go as we planned; and no, I didn’t fuck him. I wish I did, though.”
“Gross! If a certain someone hadn’t put me in the way and fallen asleep, the plan could’ve worked.” Robin demands, “What happened exactly?”
“I chickened out, okay? And I was a little exhausted. By the way, the movie isn’t exactly refreshing... ” Steve can feel Robin’s judging glares are burning his right face. He explains, “Our plan wouldn’t have worked anyways, because Eddie needed to get back for Wayne. And before he went, he asked me out to his gig at Hideout.”
“He asked you out to his gig at Hideout.” Robin parrots.
“Yes! That’s why I need your help, Robs. For starters, like, what do I wear to this thing? I mean, is there a dress code? And, I know we can’t display any public affections like others, but I want to know, like, the proper, um, amount of touching? For people like us, on a first date...” Steve stops rambling, slams the brake, and pulls the car over to the road shoulder.
“Steve, what’s wrong?” Robin is alarmed by the series of abrupt actions.
“Oh my gosh,” Steve turns fully to Robin, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, desperate, “He never actually said it’s a date. It could just be two friends hanging out. I don’t even know what it is! I’m such an idiot.”
“Okay okay. Steve, calm down. Let’s not overthink this. It’s my expertise, not yours.” Robin eases him with a soothing smile, and rubs his shoulder, “Tell me if I’m wrong, but Eddie never invites any of us to his gigs. He invites you, and you’re not even close to a music lover. Maybe a date date isn’t normally like that, but, Eddie is nothing like normal, or dull. And he chose you to be there. That counts for something. Out of the question.”
“Yeah...” Steve lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’s been holding, and smiles a little to Robin, “Guess you’re right.”
“Because I’m right, and always right.” Robin recalls something, smirking, “Plus, he glanced at you during the movie last night—a lot. Like, sickeningly a lot.”
“He did?” Steve asks sincerely, releasing his grip on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, he probably thought he did a good job hiding it, but nothing’s gonna hide under the nose of the best agent in the field.”
“That’s true.” Steve laughs at those words, relaxing, “... I think I’m going on a non-date date with Eddie Munson.”
“Lucky you! Now drive, Plato! ‘Cause this ‘always right girl’ doesn’t want to be late for work!” Robin commands, then waggles her eyebrows. “We’ll discuss what you’re wearing for your hot non-date date on lunch break.”
Days later, Steve finds himself in the hustle of the Hideout, dressed in all black and a pair of combat boots Robin selected for him, along with Eddie’s battle vest (the one he never found the right time to return) since she asked nicely—“Tell me you’ll wear it, Steve Harrington! It’s the only thing that matters to this whole outfit!”
It is already fairly packed in the Hideout despite Steve being early. People all dressed up with so many personalities on display, just like Eddie. They are grabbing drinks, and chattering, filling the place. Steve kind of likes it — the buzz in the air makes him feel alive.
“Harrington!” And then Eddie, wearing all ragged jeans and chains, appearing in Houdini-style, “You’re early!” Eddie is very excited, grinning with all teeth, bright and heating, giving off the same buzzing energy.
“Is being early uncool for you, Munson?” Steve can’t help but grin, slipping into his casual flirting tone, even though his palms start to sweat like he’s the one going on stage.
“No, no, I-I just don’t want you to get bored before the live, ‘cause I’ll be prepping. Shit, I should’ve told you... ” Eddie trails off, glancing down at his shoes, looking genuinely sorry.
Oh crap.
He made Eddie feel bad.
He’s supposed to be here, and impressing the hell out of Eddie, but ends up guilt-tripping the guy before the show even starts. Good game, Harrington. Seriously, he should really stop giving any dating advice to Dustin. Because Robin is damn right about he sucks. He has lost all his games by not playing the game for too long.
But Steve isn’t planning on sitting this one out. Not today, not anymore. He quickly amends, “Actually, I just got here minutes ago. And it’s not boring. I have to say, I kinda like it here. People all seem incredibly cool.”
Eddie meets his eyes again, and that bright smile returns to his face, “I’m so flattered you like it, Stevie.”
Phew. Good save, Stevie.
That’s when Steve realizes exactly how close they are standing to each other. Close enough for him to see Eddie is wearing eyeliner, which, makes his gorgeous brown eyes even bigger. Like they can absorb Steve on the spot. And he’ll be okay with that.
Just as Steve thinks they can’t get any bigger, they do—“You’re wearing my vest! It looks so much better on you.” Eddie looks like he just won the greatest DnD campaign (fine, Steve knows campaigns aren’t winnable for Dungeon Master), scanning Steve up and down, like he needs time to take it all in. Then he clutches both hands theatrically over his heart, “Oh, Harrington, you’ve turned my own kin against me. I’m betrayed!”
Steve giggles.
Oh crap, he giggles. Eddie might have broken him completely. So long to the cool and chill and laid-back Steve Harrington. He runs his hands through his well-styled hair, trying to respond before he spontaneously dies in self-ignition from red cheeks. Everything’s possible these days.
Luckily, Gareth comes to his rescue, angrily dragging Eddie off — the show’s about to begin.
“Wish me luck!” Eddie calls over his shoulder, and just before the crowd swallows him, he pushes back and calls to him, “Come backstage after our set!” With a wink.
Steve might as well be dead.
But he can’t die yet. He needs to be alive to see Eddie play. And maybe a little booze will help with that.
The Hideout isn’t a large venue. It’s rather small, with numerous people crammed inside. Steve has to make his way to the bar. As he skims through the drink menu, he feels a sudden weight on his upper arm. He looks to the source of the warmth—it’s a brunette girl.
“Hey, you here alone?”, she asks, leaning in close to mouth that in his ear. Too close. Like the roaring music gives her a legitimate excuse.
She’s his type, Steve has to admit that. Great hair, big eyes, charming smile. Her black-nailed fingers glide slowly down his arm, and lingering.
Steve knows the scene. He lived the scene. He knows what this is like, where this is going, and how this will end. He knows it all too well that he can play it out with muscle memory, like the jock he was. Buy her a drink, dance too close, hook up on the car-hood, get a telephone number, go on one or two dates or none. He can recall the easy and addictive intimacy it used to bring him. As well as the inevitable hollowness that followed.
It feels all wrong.
He’s not going there. Not today, not anymore.
Steve simply shakes his head, and the warmth disappears. So does the girl, walking away without a word.
He just wants to see Eddie, now.
And then he does. Eddie’s on stage, next to the lead singer, playing with fury and chill under the spotlight, shining like a real fucking rock and roll (metal) star. Everybody’s looking at him. Steve is looking at him too. He can’t take his eyes off him. He wouldn’t know how. Eddie is like the captivating human form magnet that has the strongest attraction. No one can escape from his force. It’s the law of physics that Steve learned and passed with a C in Mr Clarke’s class.
Eddie’s so good with his guitar, way much better than he gives himself credit for. He’s something else on stage, like he’s finally back to his habitat. His fingers strumming frantically, his head banging to the rhythm, his sweaty face grinning like a demon.
Although Steve doesn’t recognize any of the songs and can hardly catch any lyrics (not that there are many), he can tell it’s still insanely engaging. Everybody here screaming, jumping, and losing their minds, can prove it. Eddie’s owning it, killing it, and setting it on fire.
Steve smiles. Genuinely.
He is so happy for Eddie. He is. Because Eddie deserves this. All of it.
However, witnessing this brand new side of Eddie, wearing Eddie’s clothes, jumping to the music Steve doesn’t know, in the dark side of the room overwhelmed by strangers, Steve’s smile fades a little bit. Somehow.
Because he’s sensing something else, something he doesn’t expect and isn’t supposed to, something tiptoeing in the back of his mind. A strange pain, stretching, by the distance between Eddie playing far away up there, and him watching alone down here. Steve is no stranger to it. The old ache of not knowing his place, of being left out, of detachment. It stings a little. The same one that made him pretend harder, laugh louder, and drink more.
And so he does.
If there’s another thing Steve Harrington knows all too well, it’s how to blend in. He starts screaming with people pressed beside him, laughing at some point he doesn’t quite understand, and drinking. Perhaps too much drinking.
Some old habits die hard.
♥♥♥
Eddie runs off stage, high-fiving all his bandmates. His fingertips are hurting, his blood burning through his veins like the best kind of fire, and his breath catching with endless excitement. He hasn’t felt this high after a show for a long time. It’s not because Steve is here, in the crowd, enjoying it with him. It’s because of the good slot they lucked out to perform in. It’s because of the original song they finally got to play on stage. It’s because the audience was unexpectedly into it.
Okay, fine.
It’s mainly because of Steve. At this point, Eddie won’t even try to deny it.
“Eddie! Man! Holy shit!”
It’s Steve. He’s waving at him, trying to get his attention, like the dream groupie—but this is better, the best. It’s Steve.
Steve fumbles toward him, yelling, beaming, “You’re A-amazing! Do you know how amazing you are? I’m like, dead serious right now... ”
One second Eddie’s high on a different planet. The next he’s catching an armful of hyped-up Steve. Eddie grabs Steve’s wrists on instinct, and immediately smells the scent of alcohol inches away. He tries to hold and ground Steve, and maybe himself too, “Jesus, Harrington. How much have you drunk?”
“Mmmhm, maybe a little too much? Don’t worry. I won’t throw up on you. I behave. ‘Cause’ I’m good at drinking. Real good. Just tipsy.” Steve giggles, and clings closer to Eddie, heated breath hitting the side of his neck as he mutters, “Hey, you feel warm. Nah, should I say... hot?” Steve pulls back a little just to check him out.
Eddie groans internally.
“Yes. you’re like, hot. So so hot. Do you know that, too?” Steve continues with a dopey smile, then leans in, resting his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder.
Steve’s wasted.
Oh no. No, no, no.
This isn’t what Eddie wants.
Eddie freezes. Hot sweat sticky on his forehand feels like iced cold. Like he’s been drenched into a basket of bone-chilling water. By this enthusiastic, hot mess, unclear-headed version of Steve.
In his ideal pipeline, Steve should’ve been swept off his feet by now. And then Eddie would push it further, confessing his undying feelings (obsessions) to Steve, and Steve would swoon, telling Eddie he feels the same (or at least something similar). And maybe if Eddie’s luck is blessed tonight, they will get to be touchy feely afterward.
Alright, this kind is what Eddie wants. Steve’s chuckles easily hummed in his ears, Steve’s adorable head lying on his shoulder, and Steve’s hairspray mixed with the scent of beer and sweat barging into his system. With Steve, so close.
But no, not like this. Being drunk and reckless might be fun, while being sober and regretful surely isn’t. He doesn’t want that for Steve. And for himself.
Eddie’s never seen Steve get this drunk before. He can’t quite put his fingers on the reason, but he very much regrets his subconscious decision to invite Steve to his gig, on the very first attempt. So much for trying to play it cool. Forget it.
“Alright, Harrington. I’m getting you home.” Eddie tells him quietly.
He entrusts his beloved guitar to Gareth, and says to the whole band—who are obviously not watching the two of them while tidying up, “Sorry, gotta take off.”
“No biggie,” Gareth smirks, calling after him. “Just go, lover boy.”
Eddie doesn’t bother flipping him off or even arguing.
Drunk Steve is, as a matter of fact, cute, for no good reason. He is self-sufficient, highly cooperative, and defenseless. He doesn’t puke, doesn’t cry, and doesn’t fall into awkward silence. He just does what you tell him, talks when you prompt, laughs at your punchlines, and even jokes back. Basically the normal Steve magnifies honesty and authenticity by one hundred times, apart from being an extra amount of clumsiness.
Eddie struggles a bit when he pulls Steve out of the passenger seat of the Beemer.
“I think, some cold wind might’ve sobered me up a little. Let me walk, solo.” Steve insists, pushing Eddie slightly, and attempts to stand upright on his own. But he loses his balance quickly.
“Woah woah woah, Harrington.” Eddie catches him right away, trying to steady him, and ends up in a full-on chest-to-chest hug, “Jus-just hold me still.”
“Woah, woah, woah, Munson.” Steve mimics, leaning into Eddie’s chest, “Gotta buy me a drink first. I mean, I’m the one who bought all the drinks tonight. Not very gentlemanly of you, Eddie.”
“I guess I have to declare Munson the Banished guilty as charged.”
“Right?” Steve replies, “Because I’m telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing than the truth.”
“Oh, so you’re coming clean to me now, Stevie?”
“Yep!” Steve answers, popping the “p” with a goofy smile.
Eddie shouldn’t be taking advantage of Steve, who is under the influence. But he is a weak, and despicable man, currently. And he really really wonders about something, “... I, uh, wanted to know... back at the boathouse, why did you help me? You didn’t have to. I’m not like the model citizen of Hawkins. And, you didn’t know me back then... It wasn’t your obligation or anything, you know.”
"No why?” Steve answers without any hesitation, like Eddie asked the most foolish question in the world, “If there are people in trouble out there, you just have to help them... And also, you have a nice face. Really hated to see that face look so scared.”
“Oh,” Eddie swallows hard. He didn’t expect this for an answer, not at all, “Putting all your Harrington charm on me?”
Eddie can’t see Steve’s face from this angle, but he can feel his own chest vibrate as Steve laughs.
“I try.” Steve tilts his head up to look at him, eyes flickering, and asks, “Is it working?”
Eddie’s neck is tickled by Steve’s hair brushing against it, and he melts to the sensation a bit. He bites his chapped lower lip before admitting, “Of course, Harrington.” Then he lowers his voice, and looks ahead, manhandling Steve toward his bedroom, “It’ll work on anyone.”
The moment they reach the bedroom door, Steve throws Eddie off before Eddie can react, and he begins to undress.
Eddie feels like he’s watching a golden retriever trying to break free from the cone of shame. Steve’s lower waist is exposed in front of Eddie’s eyes. His wild and sinful eyes won’t look away. He feels like he shouldn’t be here. He could be totally crossing Steve’s boundaries. But if he doesn’t watch, Steve could die of self-suffocation in his own garments. Steve wouldn’t like that, would he?
“Umm, mind if I help you... ?”
“Yeah. Wait, no? Uh, I mean no, I don’t mind.” Steve’s voice is as blurred as his mind, coming from layers, “I could really use some help.”
Eddie cracks a laugh as he walks up to Steve. He carefully rearranges every layer of Steve’s clothing, pulls them off one by one, and leaves the T-shirt on, and he steps back, “There you go.”
“Thanks, Eddie. That’s very nice of you.” Steve grins earnestly at him with his normally perfect hair all sticking in every direction by now.
Before Eddie could play it off with a joke, Steve immediately began to unbuckle his belt and strip off his pants.
Eddie cocks his head away, as if he’s trying to dodge a bullet. He knows he would be guilty as sin if he actually watched.
Steve successfully gets rid of his pants, kicks them aside, and stumbles towards another door in the room. Yet, he fails to do so by tripping over those same piled pants, which he apparently didn’t kick very far away.
Eddie clenches his mouth shut, managing not to laugh out loud. Hearing Steve swear “Damn it” to himself, he eventually decides to intervene, “What are you doing, Stevie?”
“Gonna shower. I stink. It’s disgusting.”
“You’re not disgusting. I can’t let you shower in this state. What if you trip and fall in the bath?”
Steve grumbles, “But...”
“Come on,” Eddie cuts him off, grabs his arms and helps him settle on the bed, “I’ll get your washing towel to wipe it up if you want?”
“Alright... Come back quick.”
Eddie hurries off, his palms tingling from the heat of Steve’s skin. It’s too much to handle. He wets the towel in the basin, while giving himself a mental pep talk of acting normally. Then he returns and hands it to Steve.
Steve doesn’t take the towel. He just lifts his face and closes his eyes, waiting.
Jesus Fucking Christ. What was Steve thinking? If it’s in the streets, he could’ve got himself kissed.
Eddie sighs helplessly, then wipes that stupidly biteable face nice and clean, “Good as new.”
Steve flutters his eyes open, smiling satisfied, “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, my liege.” Eddie can’t deal with Steve’s eyes focusing on him. He darts his gaze away, and negotiates, “Migraine will be a pain in the ass in the morning. Better take some aspirin, and drink some water before you turn in. How does that sound?”
Steve wrinkles his nose, like he’s protesting the idea of taking pills.
“... Okay.” He still does as Eddie told him.
Eddie sets the mug on the nightstand, and pulls the blankets over Steve, carefully.
“Treating me with Munson charm, aren’t you?” Tracing Eddie’s every movement, Steve concludes, “I can tell you it’s working on me. Very well.”
God, this is now just cruel. Eddie’s stomach twists a little. Steve’s been flirting with him all night, and each time it’s only getting harder and harder to resist. He brushes it off, “Yeah, yeah.”
Then a brief silence falls over the room. It’s not uncomfortable, but Eddie gets it nonetheless.
It’s his cue to go.
He’s about to stand up but Steve grabs his wrist, pulling him down with more strength than Eddie expected.
“Stay here.”
It’s an invitation to stay. A second one.
Eddie’s heart is racing in glee and hope. He tries to sound composed, “... Okay then. I’ll, I’ll stay in the guest room. Just tell me whe-”
“No. Stay here with me.” Steve repeats.
“Oh,” Eddie utters in a little disbelief. Now the glee shifts towards nervousness. And he responds as he usually would—deflating, “Well... Sure, um, your floor seems warm and decent enough. Can I get a blanket, though?”
“Are you kidding?” Steve sounds like he’s deeply misunderstood. Still clutching Eddie’s wrist, he clarifies, voice tightening, “Stay here with me in my bed. Am I clear?”
Eddie learns that drunk Steve could also be quite condescending and commanding.
And Eddie can live with that. “... Crystal clear.” He tries to pull his hands back to take off his dirty jacket.
But it appears that Steve misread the situation and believed Eddie still wouldn’t listen to him. He reaches out with another hand and grips on Eddie’s arm. It’s so tight that it hurts a little.
“Steve, I’m not—” Eddie is trying to explain.
“No!” Steve interrupts forcefully and tightens his grip. His voice is husky and heavy, “Why aren’t you staying? Is there something I did? Why do you leave?”
“I wasn’t—”
“You are! You never stay. You leave all the time. You leave after every campaign. You leave every movie night. I asked you to stay last time, and you didn’t.” Steve pauses for a second, like he’s lost in the train of his thoughts, “... You all leave. Gap year’s over. Robin’s going to university in Chicago in weeks. Nancy and Jonathan will leave soon. And the kids... Dustin is gonna be a sophomore this fall. Can you believe it? The kids are growing up so fast. They’re all so smart, and they’ll leave for college, too.”
Steve takes a breath, then asks again, “Why do you always leave?” He is facing Eddie with the loneliest expression, like he is also asking — If you leave, where should I go? what should I do?
Eddie’s heart skips a beat at that expression, then, breaks into a thousand pieces. There’s nothing left to do, but hug Steve.
He hugs Steve, arms around his back, so tenderly like Steve’s the porcelain vase on his mother’s antique shelf. Steve crashes into his embrace, so hard, like he doesn’t care to crash, like it doesn’t hurt him, like his entire life depends on it.
Eddie holds him tighter.
Holding Steve makes Eddie fully acknowledge it now—his feelings for Steve. Having a crush on someone is one thing. Feeling empathy and heartbroken for them is another. Needless to say, they are far beyond crush, and beyond horniess or loneliness. His ego be damned. Eddie is allergic to romance. He taunts all heterosexual-centric corny romcoms that Steve and Joyce watch (sorry, not sorry). Rich girl falls for a poor boy? Love at first sight? Please! Call him skeptical, cynical, or even downright pessimistic. He would proudly take it. In the end, he’s always been the doubter, remember?
But Steve made love easy. Effortless, even. He keeps falling in love for Steve—
his courage,
his kindness,
his stupid sense of humor,
the way he says things like “If there are people in trouble out there, you just have to help them,” like it’s the simple truth in the universe,
the way he lets people in,
the way he cares,
and god knows what else.
He keeps falling. Against all odds. Against his nature. Against every wall he’s spent years building around his heart. It’s like defying the gravity. And he may never fall out of it.
The hounds of love are hunting. And he's done being a coward.
Eddie makes the promise he never made, “I’m not leaving you, Steve. I’m not.”
Then, he feels water drops on his shoulder and leans back to see Steve’s tears streaming down his face, like an unstoppable pour in a quiet night. His heart aches, “Oh, ba-Stevie, don’t cry.”
“I’m not?” Steve replies confusingly, and then he touches his face to find out he’s indeed shedding tears,“Wow. I am...” He rubs his eyes with the blanket right away, rushing like he’s mad with himself, and apologizes, “Sorry, Eddie. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like this.”
“Hey, it’s fine. I get it. I do. Don’t say sorry to me, Stevie.” Eddie wants to say something more comforting, but a lump jammed in his throat. All he can manage is to joke, “You know, people need a leash sometimes. That’s why we invented metal.”
Luckily, Steve huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, I suppose so... Sometimes I’m, I, uh, I don’t,” he is processing something real hard, and then he sighs in exasperation as if he gives up hedging, “... I just really want to be with you.”
“Oh... I know that now.” Eddie tries to reassure, “I am staying here tonight. Promise. Go to sleep, Stevie. You’re tired.”
Steve doesn’t argue, and just searches Eddie’s face for something, before obeying and lying down, his eyes still on Eddie, “Would you come a little closer to me?”
Eddie obliges.
♡♡♡
Steve wakes up to the late summer sunlight leaking through the blinds, feeling quite horrible. He can feel his head pounding with every pumping of pulse, due to the hangover. Idiotic behavior only incurs idiotic consequence. That’s what his father would say.
It's uncomfortably hotter than it usually is. Steve immediately realizes why—Eddie is right next to him. He stayed the night. And He's still here, in Steve's bed.
Steve pushes away the thick blankets. A strange mix of relief and warmth settles in his chest as he turns to his side, watching Eddie sleep. Eddie’s sleeping in the clothes he wore yesterday. His face is half-buried in the crook of his arm, curls spilling across his cheek, shadowing one eye. Steve curbs the urge to brush the hair aside.
It shouldn’t be beautiful. But beautiful is what it is.
They lie so close, parallel to each other, shoulder to shoulder, body to body. Like codependent bunnies, huddling together in a hutch. Their T-shirts have ridden up, exposing their faint marks of healed stitches. He reaches out to tug the hem of Eddie’s worn-out band shirt back down. And then he sees it—the scars. The scars they share, are like stars aligning in a fine line. Like they're caught in each other's orbit by some supernatural force, forming a constellation only they can see.
Steve's heart skips a beat. He’s wonderstruck by this sight in the quiet, golden morning light. He tries to stay still and holds his breath, as if trying to hold onto this moment as long as possible.
Even the strongest spells have limits, Eddie yawns, and just like that, the magic breaks.
Steve quickly squeezes his eyes shut, before following Eddie’s yawn with a slow reopening, pretending to just wake up.
“...... Morning, Harrington.” Eddie’s voice is slightly hoarse in the morning.
“Morning, Eddie.”
Steve watches Eddie batting his eyes to adjust to the light, and then rolling out of the sheet like he’s sprung away.
“... Um, can I borrow your ensuite shower?” Eddie doesn’t look at Steve. He scratches his head awkwardly, making his bedhead look even crazier. It’s illegally adorable.
“Of course, I don’t want people to start to think I’m a terrible host. The spare toothbrush is in the cabinet.” Steve chews inside of his mouth, then points at his closet, “And um, you can also borrow my clothes if you want? Take your time.”
“Thanks. I’ll make sure your reputation maintained.” Eddie flies to the bathroom, and shuts the door.
The room quiets down again.
Just give him one chance, and he messes it up. Perfect.
Steve growls into his hands. He remembers all those girls he dated after Nancy. How much he tried with them to actually have something. None of those ever worked out. He wanted to blame them. But he knew better now. And then. The problem was always him. Too much too soon. When it was with Nancy, he regretted not caring the way she wanted, at the time she needed. After that, he wanted to be better. Certainly, in romantic relations. Also, in a lot of other things. That is to say, to become a better person in a general sense. He supposes he did. He improved, to some extent. Thanks to Dustin, Robin, Eddie, and all other precious people appearing in his life, and Nancy for sure. But still, he messed it up somehow. Like it's never right, never enough, being himself.
He gets dressed, and washes up in the guest restroom. Then, he returns, and begins to pace outside his own bedroom door, afraid he’ll walk in on Eddie changing. Or he is just afraid of facing Eddie again. Several minutes or perhaps several years passed—Steve can’t really tell—and there is no sign of Eddie coming out. He decides to make them some breakfast.
Acting is way better than thinking.
“Jesus Christ!”
Steve jumps and literally yanks the pot away when he feels a hand on his shoulder blade, and he tilts his head to find Eddie grinning mischievously, “How come you make no sound walking?”
“My apologies.” Eddie bows, then wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, and drops his chin on Steve’s shoulder, like it just comes naturally to him, “What are you cooking, Stevie?”
Steve tenses up. All he can breathe in is the aroma of his shampoo from Eddie’s moist curls.
What the hell? What is happening right now? Did he fall right back to sleep and dream this?
Steve turns his face away instantly, short-circuiting. He answers on autopilot, “Just... omelette and bacon?”
“Love them! Wayne can make great omelette. But I can’t. Never get the timing right. Shame.”
“Oh, I’m afraid mine can’t compare to Wayne’s.”
“Hmm, in my humble opinion, he’s great but not that great. I’m sure you can easily prevail over him. And anyone can prevail over me in this category.”
Steve cracks out a laugh. He could almost submit right into this dreamy domesticity. But he shouldn’t. He switches off the oven and asks, “Would you make yourself useful and go pour us some milk?”
“On it.” Eddie drops his hands, and Steve misses them immediately. Eddie heads to open the cupboard, “Already used to bossing your boyfriend around, Stevie?”
boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
What ? !
“ What ? ! ” Steve doesn’t realize he blurted that out loud, so squeaky that it makes Eddie jump and yell, “Jesus!”
Eddie cautiously sets the glasses down, and speaks in a lighthearted tone, as if he hadn’t just dropped the “B-bomb” seconds ago, “Considered we’re even. Don’t remember anything about last night, my liege?”
Suppose they’re having the talk, now.
Steve exhales a long breath quietly, sets the plates on the kitchen counter, and tries to answer as casually as he could, as if it can’t be more obvious and simple, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I am a very responsible and independent drinker because I don’t throw up or make a fool of myself. I remembered it clearly at Hideout. You nailed it on stage, and I had so much fun. Then my knight in the shining, ragged armor escorted me home.”
“And kindly remind me how I ended up in your royal bed?” Eddie completed his milk duty and is back at Steve’s side, with a respectful social distance. Steve can sense the heaviness of Eddie’s eyes locking on him.
Keep your calm, Steve Harrington.
“Wanna keep a close eye on me in case I didn’t survive?” Steve finally shifts his head to look at Eddie.
“That too.” Eddie huffs, looking right into his eyes, “... Well, I hate to break it to you like this, but Steve, last night, you asked me to stay and said you wanted to be with me...”
Oh.
Oh, fucking hell.
He remembers everything. And this isn’t a hallucination.
He actually said that. As well as a bunch of other things. Out in the open.
He threw himself on Eddie all night, lost his cool, and absolutely cried in front of him.
“ Oh . ” Steve is stunned.
Steve stares into the space between him and Eddie, still holding the spatula. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and closes it a couple of times. Like a malfunctioning android, refining millions of things and feelings. He is in need of saying something. Something not messed up. Something right. At last, his brain digests, rebuilds, and reboots within these seconds. He opens his mouth again, “I’m not taking it back because I meant everything I said.”
“You can’t take it back because you’re stuck with me now.”
They speak at the same time.
“You meant everything you said?”
“You’re the one who is stuck with me.”
They speak at the same time, again.
They both don’t say anything for a beat, staring at each other.
Then Eddie moves first, dashing into Steve’s space, grabbing the collar of his polo, and kissing him on the mouth.
The kiss can’t even qualify as a peck. Lips of two different persons barely make contact, then it’s gone. It was a flash. It was lighter than a butterfly flapping over flowers. So brief and so fast.
This moment replays in mosaic slow motion in Steve’s head, the same way as the flashback of a dying man. Steve’s eyes widened instantly. He blinks once, twice. And he blinks a third time. Let the action wreck the world in front of him.
Eddie kissed him.
Steve wants to cry, wants to guffaw, and wants to scream “Yes Fucking Finally!” like an absolute lunatic. The kiss must seal the deal for them no matter how soft it was. It has to.
Eddie’s brown eyes are wide open, looking identically shocked, and then he suddenly squawks—“AHH!”—in total high-pitched and non-metal fashion, like a cat squawks when someone steps on its tail accidentally mid-nap. Except, under this circumstance, he’s arguably the stepper himself.
The next second, Eddie backs away, in large steps, using his long hair to block his entire face like drawing curtains.
Okay, this is the time. For Steve to move.
Steve used to secretly mock the “when you know you know” speech adults loved to give at dinner tables. When exactly is when? And what do you know?
But now, he does know. He knows better, despite his over-traumatized 20-year-old soul. It’s not about falling for someone when he’s too young and stupid. Maybe he is young and stupid—but that’s not the point.
The point is meeting someone too early, knowing you will love them for the rest of your life, and knowing, with absolute certainty, that if you miss your chance and let them go, they will be gone forever. The thought alone is enough to give him a heartbreak that time can never repair. The cruelty and fragility of love laid bare. And it shatters something inside him, sharp and almost unbearable.
Yet, Steve’s come so far, with all his idiot luck that still isn’t running out. He dares to take on the challenge, and he needs to move fast.
Steve puts down the spatula momentarily, steps forward, and manages to sound all collected, regardless of the heating cheeks and speeding heart, “Eddie.”
Eddie steps backwards again, hiding behind his hair.
“Eddie, Eds. Don’t panic. It’s okay. It is.” Steve stops approaching, holding his hands up to ease him, “I’m not freaking out.” He is not.
Eddie opens his curtains a bit, revealing his widened doe eyes, voice trembling, disbelievingly, “I just... fucking kissed you... Holy shit... ”
“Yeah... holy shit, right?” Steve crackles a laugh, even though his heart’s undoubtedly speeding over 104 bpm at present, carrying out the duty of staying alive, “Well, honestly... I might be surprised, 42%, to be exact.” He takes another tentative step.
Eddie’s panic seems to change into something between relief and curiosity. He maintains his gaze on Steve under his bangs, eyeing him to keep talking.
“And the other 58% is hoping for a redo.” Steve closes their distance, and softly removes Eddie’s hands to show his rosy face. Steve clears his throat, and says sincerely, “Hello there, I’m a diehard fan of your performance. So... could I have an encore, please?”
Eddie is fully flushed, from cheeks to ears. He groans, word by word, “Steve Fucking Harrington is killing me.”
“Hey! Don’t call your boyfriend by tha-” Steve is interrupted when Eddie smashes into his lips, and he isn’t complaining.
It takes no time for Steve to kiss Eddie right back. He reaches to hold Eddie’s nape without thinking, pulls him closer, and feels the damp baby hair there. Eddie licks his lips, and Steve takes the hint, and opens his mouth, welcoming Eddie in. Steve then tastes the fresh mint on his tongue, and sighs into it, as all the insecurities, nerves, and panic have just vanished. Before he fully dwells on it, Eddie bites his tongue teasingly, and then licks the spot he just bit. Steve just lets him and sighs into the kisses. Eddie is obviously encouraged, runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, digs a little into the scalp, and gives some strands a soft tug.
Steve would’ve protested, but instead, he slips out a restrained moan. He never knows that sloppy biting, licking, and hair tugging could be both a recreation and a turn-on for him. It’s been less than an hour since they became official, and he has developed a new addiction.
Steve pins Eddie against the refrigerator, hits the back of his own hand, presses them closer, shoves one leg between Eddie’s, aiming for zero space. Steve then returns the favor by biting Eddie’s tongue back. Eddie pants surprisingly, then responds with an accelerated hair pull.
Steve’s moan cuts off into a painful hiss, “Ow-”
Eddie instantly draws away a little, breathless, “Shit, I’m so sorry.” He frowns, looking seriously concerned, “You okay? Am I hurting you?”
“No, no,” Steve shakes his head, smiling. He chases Eddie’s lips for an assuring kiss, and explains, “I think, it’s the rings. They got tangled in my hair.”
“Oh, I’m still sorry,” Eddie bites his own swollen lip, carefully retrieves his fingers, and tries to fix Steve’s not-so-decent hair, “About your hair. And my rings...”
“I like your rings.” Like is an understatement. Steve clasps Eddie’s hands to touch the rings, fidgeting with one of them, grinning.
Eddie’s lips curl up, smiling bashfully, and he replies with a chaste kiss, as if he’s trying to kiss it better.
They resume making out some more, before Steve regains his remaining self-discipline and urges them to have some food at last. Because he hasn’t heard Eddie’s compliments on the omelette, and it won’t matter once it passes its tasting period. Also because his heart will definitely explode from overspeed if they keep up the intensity.
They stand close at the counter, shoulder touching. Just another ordinary Sunday morning, Eddie and he having breakfast in the large kitchen, quiet and peaceful.
He can have this. Steve smiles to himself. He doesn’t have to steal glances anymore. He can look at Eddie now, whenever he wants. Fair and square. He doesn’t have to suppress his non-platonic impulsion anymore. He can do all the boyfriend stuff to Eddie, and he’s going to romance him so hard.
Wait a second,
“How are you so good at this?” Steve shoots Eddie a bewildered look, “You’re already the cool one in this relationship. It’s so unfair.”
Eddie curls up one side of his lip, “What? Just because I don’t hold a renowned dating record, you think I can’t kiss? Offense taken.”
“No, it’s not that. Okay, that’s included.” Steve stops cutting, and waving the fork in the air like it’s helping him elaborate, “I was talking about, you beating me. Like, you asked me out first, called me boyfriend first, and kissed me first. You know, that’s supposed to be my thing. Not that I’m bragging or anything. I-I really wanted to impress you...” And my grand plan went down the drain the moment you turned down my offer to stay over.
Steve hears how ridiculous he sounded, and grimaces in defeat, “Now I feel like I’m at my least cool moment... ”
“It’s not a sports game, Harrington.” Eddie raises his brow, and snorts, “As for your cool? That ship sailed the second I caught you doing dishes humming Head Over Heels.”
“So you do know the title, Snob!” Steve snaps.
“’Cause you stop at every radio channel playing it, Jock!” Eddie snaps back.
Steve tries to maintain a poker face, but he breaks when Eddie makes a challenging face right at him, and they burst out laughing together.
Eddie eventually recovers, and speaks halfheartedly, “But just so you know, Stevie, I wanted to impress you, too.”
“You did?”
“Ugh, pathetically so.” Eddie puffs exasperatedly, his cheek turning pink, “Just this morning, I literally spent decades in your bathroom to get presentable. How cool is that?”
“Cool enough to me.” Steve grins. Then he thinks of everything that happened this morning, and looks down at his plate, chewing his bottom lip, “Thought I ruined your night this morning.”
“Not in a million years! I’d thought I ruined your interest in metal.” Eddie puts down the fork and scrapes his nose, “Also, Your Majesty, since we’re all confessing here, I- I’m not good at this.” He gestures back and forth at them as Steve shows a confused expression, and gives up, lowering his voice, “Relationship thing... Pretty obvious that I’ve never been in one before, so... ”
Eddie pauses, averts his eyes, and stops at the half glass of milk. At last, he blurts out in one breath, “Hope I don’t end up exhausting the shit out of you, with me being me.”
Oh.
Eddie is terrified.
Just like him.
This realization makes Steve’s chest hurt a little. Since he knows exactly how it feels. He’s been there too many times. He admits it to Eddie as well as to himself, “I get it... I, I had this insane habit of keeping the TV or a record on when I was home alone. Liked some noises in the house so it won't be so damn empty.”
Steve lets the feeling sink in, then turns to look at Eddie, and finds Eddie looking at him now, “And when you’re around, I don't need to do that. Even if you're not talking... You never exhaust me, Eds. I like you being you.”
Steve smiles as he concludes, “I’m a mess and likely a disaster boyfriend. Just check with my exes, they’ll confirm my testimony. So, as long as I get to bang in the backseat of your shitty van, we’re all good.”
“Oh, you’re done listing the pros?” Eddie smirks, and it spreads across his kissable cheeks, “Who would’ve thought, one day Steve Harrington said he wants to bang in my van? If you had told me a year ago, my wounds might’ve healed overnight.”
“Less sanitary, better sex.” Steve winks because Eddie’s not the only one who can pull that off. Eddie’s eyes widen and Steve laughs so hard.
Making a mental note of the van thing, Steve continues, “If you had told me four years ago, I might’ve decked you and then got my ass kicked instead.”
Eddie simpers, and starts to eat the bacon again, “Seriously, Steve. I’m glad I got to know you. Figured you hated my guts in school. Especially after I successfully pissed off some royal families with my cafeteria stunt.”
Steve easily remembers those scenes, shaking his head, "I never hated you. Not even back when I was a total douche.” Eddie hums in agreement. Steve laughs and keeps talking, “I thought what you were doing was kinda interesting, and brave. Definitely made school suck less for me."
“I'm not hearing it wrong? His Highness was entertained by my little show for leisure on his noble domain? You know that the people I mocked included you, right?” Eddie peeked at him.
“Yeah, I know... I have bad taste, is what I’ve been told.” Steve just shrugs. Then he grins crookedly, because he thinks of the perfect comeback, “You know that included you, right?”
Eddie drops his mouth and gazes at him, with pure astonishment and affection in his eyes.
Then something occurs to Eddie, and he changes into an ‘Aha’ face, so stupid that it makes Steve want to bite it off. “Oh my god, you are projecting onto Baby! That’s why you’re obsessed with that movie. This makes so much sense to me now!”
“Wh-what? No, I’m not? Why?” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms dismissively. He’s got used to Eddie’s hyperactive mind so far, but this still catches him off guard. “That’s, Jesus, Eddie, that’s silly. I’m nothing like a rich girl who—”
“—who is actually tired of everyone’s expectations, often looking after the kids, struggling under the weight of his own hotness,” Eddie counts off and smirks, “and just needs a little lift from a bad boy to express his true self.”
Steve can’t believe this is real. He stares at Eddie for some moments. Then he opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens, “That’s— No.”
Eddie waggles his eyebrows.
“Shut up.”
Steve groans exasperatedly into Eddie’s shoulder. And just as fast, he lifts his face, eyes narrowing. “Then what makes you? Bad boy Johnny?”
Eddie tilts his head, considering. “Not a big fan of Johnny Castle, but, I could be your bad boy. Just don’t make me lift you. ‘Cause you’ll drop and collapse on me.” Eddie twitches his mouth like he can see that imagination vividly.
Steve rolls his eyes. But he also has to kiss Eddie. So he does that, too.
“And your review of the omelette?”
♥♥♥
Eddie pulls over outside the Family Video, to pick up his boyfriend.
Yes, Eddie’s got a boyfriend for the first time in his life. And so has Steve. The fact only makes him even happier. Yes, it’s been only a week and he’s been reduced to a lovesick fool. And yes, he’s deprived all his edges. Hey, who needs those things these days? He’s been giddy all day long with a shit-eating grin that’s got him nothing but Wayne’s teasing side-eyes, Max’s ruthless roasts, and Gareth’s unsubtle prying.
As long as he can kiss his boyfriend, there’s no torment in the world he can’t endure. Although, Steve and he haven’t really talked about telling people, yet. See, kissing and sucking are time-consuming activities, just as getting kissed and getting sucked.
Eddie isn’t worried. It’s gonna be alright. He just knows it.
“Afternoon, my fair lady!” Eddie pushes the door open, greeting Robin. Then he turns to provide Steve a contained “Harrington.”
“Hi, Eddie.” Robin is putting the tapes away on the mezzanine. She doesn’t even bother to turn her head, yelling, “New fantasy and horror are in stock, suit yourself.”
“Thanks for the update, Buckley. I’ll examine them right away.” Eddie launches himself against the checkout counter, his favorite spot at Family Video. It’s a quarter before the end of Steve’s shift, and he scans the store. No other customers. Perfect. Glimpsing that Robin is moving on her task to the deeper alley, he fully grins towards Steve. Undoubtedly, that same shit-eating grin. Nothing he can do about that. He only has that much of self-control.
“Hey Eddie.” Steve greets him causally, not returning the grin, but glancing at Robin, sheepishly.
Eddie squints at Steve, only making him dart his look away. He can see through Steve now, since they’re getting better and better at communicating through reading lips and eye contact. How did he ever think Steve’s hard to read? He fakes a cough to get Steve to look at him, and mouths to him soundlessly, “You haven’t told her.”
Steve runs his right hand through his hair, and mouths back, “I don’t have the heart.”
“Stevie, you left me no choice.” Eddie gives him a silent ultimatum. Steve mouths “Not now”, gesturing cut-it-off at his neck while wagging like a crazy bobble-head.
Cute. But it’s not gonna work.
Eddie simpers, and speaks up nevertheless, “Buckley, there’s something important Harrington wanted to tell you.” Simultaneously, he turns away to avoid Steve, who drops the bobble-head act the second he speaks, and is throwing daggers at him.
“What is it?” Robin glances over, her curiosity overtaking indifference.
Steve shifts away from Eddie, unsettled, clears his throat, and reluctantly says, “... Okay, here’s the thing... Eddie and I are thinking, that, um... ”
Eddie can’t watch this any longer and finishes the sentence for him, “It is the time for you to drive, alone, without supervision anymore—”
“No!” Robin screams immediately, nudges the trolley aside, and marches to them. She stares at them disbelievingly while refusing, “No! I’m still on my learner’s license. It’s illegal!”
Eddie leans his weight on the counter, and tries to reason, softly, “Well, technically, it’s illegal to drive, without an adult older than 21... ”
“I’m not ready yet!” Robin cries like she’s an abandoned pet. She puts her hands in her hair, and tears it down, “You know I have terrible coordination. I was 6 months slower than other babies in terms of learning to walk!”
“Hey, hey, easy, Robin. That’s like, ancient history.” Steve moves forward to stop her tearing, catches her by the arms and holds her there. He says so calmly and soothingly, “We’ve been practicing, for more than 6 months, alright? You’ve been doing great. And you’ll need to fly solo, eventually.”
“You’re doing great. Really.” Eddie confirms genuinely, putting on the most affirmative face, and supplies, “We have faith in you, Buckley.”
Robin looks at both of them, gradually understands that the decision is final, and sighs in frustration. She pouts petulantly, “But why now?”
Steve drops his hands and sighs, too. He gives Eddie the sad puppy eye. Eddie knows why Steve’s stalling this topic, and takes over to answer, “You’re moving to Chicago next week.”
Robin wilts, her anger and petulance put out in a flash.
Eddie ducks his head, and pretends to wipe a tear dramatically, “It’s understandable that, as concerned ‘parents’, we’d like to make sure our beloved daughter will be okay living all by herself.”
“Studying. Not living eternally.” Robin emphasizes while rolling her eyes. She accepts, “Alright. But don’t ever refer to yourselves as my parent figures again. Because, eww!”
“Worth a try.” Eddie smirks and shoots a knowing glance with Steve. Steve laughs agreeably.
“Hold on. You two on the same side against me? This is strange. Something else is going on here.” Robin narrows her eyes, skepticism growing. She scrutinizes back and forth between them.
Uh oh, guess it can backfire. Eddie curves his lips, and shifts his head away from Steve, slowly.
And then Robin’s eyes widen in realization, she gasps heavily, and covers her mouth as she screams, “OH MY GOD! You two are together!”
It did backfire. Murphy's never wrong.
Steve and he look at each other in unison, and exchange a “she’s good” expression.
Eddie tilts his head, shrugging. Steve gets the meaning, and admits, “We’re.”
“Steve Harrington!” Robin instantly faces Steve and accuses, sounding a little hurt, “How can you not tell me the first thing today? What happened to ‘friends don’t lie’ protocol?”
“Technically, I’m not lying... ” Steve answers a little too quick, crossing his arms.
“Hiding is as bad as lying! I can’t believe I let this get past! How long are you guys planning on hiding me, huh? Next time I see you, you’re gonna be happily married with 6 kids and 1 dog, and I’ll be sitting on the single sofa miserably, with your dog humping my leg?” Robin scoffs.
Although if Eddie really thinks about it, Steve and he already seem to be happily married with 6 plus 1 kids. And for quite a while, too. But he doesn’t say it.
“Totally. You’ll be capable of driving back every weekend to drive us all insane!” Steve sasses, then he takes a deep breath to calm down, and continues, “Robs, if it makes you feel better, you're the first person I've ever told, okay? I didn't tell you right away, because it’s only been a week. It’s, it’s new to us.” Steve turns to look at him, smiling shyly, “And I don’t wanna tell you without asking Eddie first.”
Fucking hell, this man’s gonna be the death of him.
“Steve.” Eddie calls, and conveys his desperate eagerness to kiss him by blinking intentionally. Seriously, Eddie would’ve jumped him if Robin weren’t here.
“Christ. I was so wrong about your pining. You’re so much worse now!” Robin throws her head backward and snaps. And then she exhales, and looks back to them, a bit sheepishly, “I just have the tendency to overreact... I’m actually really happy for you both, you know?”
“Robs, of course we know.” Steve beams.
Eddie just wraps his arms around her shoulder and Steve’s neck, squeezing them in the meantime, forming a group hug in this awkward position.
Robin bumps Eddie lightly on the head, and yells again, “And I’m so jealous of you! Why are you gays putting out so fast?!”
“That’s stereotype! You heard that, Eddie? Don’t blame me for canceling any potential double date.” Steve snorts, and Robin bumps his head, too. Clearly harder this time, because they both yelp.
Robin and Steve burst into tears of laughter right after. Eddie joins them.
Eddie drives his van to the trailer, with Steve riding shotgun. Steve’s Beemer was detained by Robin. According to her, it’s for making up for the breach of best friend protocol. Steve continued to nag her on and on about driving safely like a hovering parent, before Robin nodded continuously, obviously not listening. She finally shoved him inside the passenger seat, and ordered Eddie to drive away.
A chill wind blowing inside, it’s cozy. Eddie doesn’t feel like turning on the radio. Steve and he don’t talk much in the car. Steve simply places his left hand on Eddie’s right thigh, warm and firm. Steve’s right hand supports his chin, against the half-opened window. He’s humming a song by all hearts. Momentarily, Eddie realizes it’s “I Wanna Be Your Lover”. Eddie doesn’t dislike the song. He may even grow to like it. To be fair, it’s a pretty good funky song.
However, the original tune is clearly too high for Steve. He struggles as hits the end of the first verse, and ends up making a strangled noise. He coughs, and tries a second time. It comes off as an even worse falsetto. Steve cracks out a deprecating laugh at himself, and resigns to dropping several octaves.
Eddie curls his lips, amused, “Didn’t know you were a Prince fan.” He parks the car in front of the trailer, and they get out.
Steve pauses, smirks, and then sings the lyrics in a hilarious low key, “I ain't like those other guys you hang around.” And he heads for the trailer, impatiently.
Eddie follows his lead, laughing.
Steve pushes Eddie against the door the second he closes it, nose touching, breathing each other. He whispers, “Missed you.”
Eddie leans in and attempts to kiss him, only resulting in Steve pulling away. Just slightly. Having their noses brush.
“Fucking tease, Harrington.” Eddie murmurs.
Steve giggles, throwing his head back, and exposing the very neck that Eddie’s been yearning for.
He’ll just suit himself.
Eddie acts fast, like a hunter waiting to strike, and bites it, without any real strength, obviously. He then licks and tastes the oudy cologne, and sweat and soft skin there.
Steve makes a choked sound, surprised, “Like to bite, don’t you, Eds? Really should’ve seen this coming.”
Eddie groans, pressing little kisses along Steve’s neck, before landing on Steve’s mouth. He presses one kiss. “Missed you, too.” Kiss. “But I’m with you all the time.” Another kiss. “Am I crazy?”
Steve smiles into the kisses, and answers without breaking it, “It’s only understandable.”
They move the make-out session onto the sofa, and are intervened by Eddie’s buzzkill growling stomach. Steve untangles their limbs, patting away Eddie’s lingering hand, and goes to order pizza.
“Why are you like this?” Fondness and wonder in his tone, Steve comes back to find Eddie already slid down to the carpet, bonelessly. Steve also lies down without further questions, his back on the floor, legs resting on the sofa.
“To see the world from a new perspective.” Eddie adds, gazing at the ceiling fan, “Helps me think.”
“Oh. What are you thinking?” Steve asks with curiosity in his voice.
“About Robin.”
“What?” Steve turns his head to look at him.
“I mean, have you ever thought about running away from Hawkins?”
“... Yeah, sometimes. Haven’t anybody?”
“I’ve always wanted to, get out. Hated it here. Had this whole thing planned out since the first time I did senior year, you know? But it all got postponed.” Eddie laughs, “And then sabotaged by the Upside Down.”
“Oh... ” Steve’s voice is strangely emotionless. And then he silences out.
Eddie twitches his head to see Steve looking devastated. He rushes to cradle Steve’s face immediately, “Hey, hey, hey, Stevie. I was now thinking about us, getting away together. And it’s merely just me thinking, nothing more.”
Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes, sincerely adding, “And I don’t hate it here anymore.”
“Oh.” Steve manages out. He blinks, and considers for a moment, then speaks, “Actually, I’ve thought of leaving here, too... Probably move to the city, split rent with Robin, get a job there and figure other things out later.”
“That’s a much more practical plan than mine!” Eddie watches Steve beaming, “So, Mr. Harrington, what kind of career are you thinking of pursuing?”
“No idea, to be honest.” Steve gazes at the sunset glowing outside the window, “Hmmm, a barista maybe? I enjoy a good cup of coffee, then work at a coffee shop first? ”
“Oh, that sounds awesome.” Eddie grins, picturing Steve in a shop logo apron, and grins wider, “What about other possibilities, hypothetically? I’m thinking, you, a police officer, going on patrol. Damn, bet you’d look hot in those uniforms.”
Steve rants, “This is where you’re coming from?”
“Not just that. You’re like, have an absurd sense of justice, obsessed with protecting people. And your athletic body? That’s 3 out of 3. Perfect fit!”
“Fuck you.”
“Appreciate it.” Eddie replies with a grin, then proposes seriously, “What about something sports-related. Like, a basketball coach? You love it, you’re good at it, and you have actual experience! I can absolutely see you whistling around a bunch of middle schoolers in the gym!”
Steve stares at him, like those words really hit him, “... Maybe not that bad of an idea... ” Then he tilts his head, rests on Eddie’s shoulder, and pivots, “Enough about me. What are you going to do? Corroded Coffin is good. Are you gonna get signed by some big label and become rich and famous?”
“Oh Stevie, it’s so sweet of you to say that.” Eddie is tickled by Steve’s nudges, though he continues talking, “Let’s be pragmatic. The show business is brutal, and our band’s going nowhere. We’re very self-aware of that and satisfied with who we are. Most importantly, we’re not gonna let our music fall into the corrupted hands of the commercial.”
“I see... Would’ve been cool to have a rock star boyfriend, though.” Steve holds Eddie’s hand in front of his face, and goes, “Hey, how about writing fantasy novels, like your favorite author, um, of that lords of rings? You’re a very compelling storyteller.”
“Never been more proud of you.” Eddie grins so hard that he may grow permanent wrinkles, “That could be one of my ultimate dreams. Hmmm, maybe I can start off by working in a tattoo store next to your coffee shop.”
“I’d like that, Eds.” Steve smiles back, and presses their entire palms together. Eddie can feel calluses on their fingertips overlapping. And then Steve thinks of something and snorts, “Why are my jobs so much more boring than yours?”
“Well, cop sounds fun.”
“Does it?”
“... Alright then, I propose that we start a two-man band. With your good look and thick voice that you just demonstrated,” Eddie waggles his brows, lacing their hands, “You gotta be the frontman. Meanwhile, I’ll be the songwriter and guitarist. And we can call ourselves... The Vampire Empire!”
“Still hung up with the vampire?” Steve considers, “I’d call it The Snob and The Jock.”
“Uh-uh, that’s a no-sell. Sounds like two losers who peaked in high school and live in their parents’ garage. I’d prefer, The Crown and The Clown. It’s an evolved edition of your idea. It has a classic Shakespeare vibe. And it rhymes.”
“Pass.” Steve shoots it down with an eye roll, then suggests, “....Bat For Bats?”
“Wow, that’s, kinda brilliant... Wait, is it inspired by Tears For Fears?”
“Busted. But it’s catchy and cool. And also matches us to a T!”
“A hard pass!” Eddie insists.
“The Tin Soldier.” Steve pops out.
“What was that?” Eddie asks.
“The Tin Soldier. From the Steadfast Tin Soldier by a Danish writer named, um, something Andersen? It’s a children’s book... Never heard of it?”
“Oh, you mean that bedtime tale?”
“Yeah... My grandma read it to me once, when I was 6?, stayed with her for a while. As a matter of fact, it’s a very touching story... Never mind, just a stupid random thought... ” Steve trails off.
“I like it. The Tin Soldier.” Eddie softens, “It has a nice ring to it. Sorta metal, actually. Probably need to lose the space between ‘tin’ and ‘soldier’.”
“I’m not starting a metal band with you.”
“That’s the deal breaker.” Eddie snaps jokingly, “I hereby declare the breakup of The Tinsoldier!”
“Jesus. Okay! Only if we do love songs!” Steve compromises.
“All we’re ever gonna sing are love songs.” Eddie leans in to press his face on Steve’s head, and chuckles, “Then reunion it is, BABE! Just enough drama to sell tickets.”
Steve chuckles, and rises to kiss Eddie. Eddie slides his hands under Steve’s T-shirt, strokes the skin there, and wanders down the spine. Just as his fingers reach Steve’s waistband, they shiver in sync, at the loud knocks on the door.
Eddie lets out a long pout, rolling over.
Steve, ever the mature one in the relationship, pecks him on the corner of his mouth, and goes to get the door.
The pizza guy must be running late during peak hour today, because he’s pounding again.
“Christ, coming!”
Eddie hears Steve jocks to the door, unlocks it and then croaks—“Henderson! Hey!”
Eddie sits up instantly.
“Steve? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Language!” Steve scolds right away, then asks, worried. “What are you doing here? Something happened?”
“No, no, nothing.” Dustin assures, “Just to talk to Eddie.”
“Good day, Henderson.” Eddie emerges behind Steve, and wraps his arm around his neck, covering the little teeth mark poking out from the collar. He asks, “What makes you pay this unannounced visit to my humble abode?”
Dustin looks at them, curving his lips into a thin line, like he’s assessing something. He made up his mind and spells, “Well, actually, this saves my time. I’m here to inform you that we’re holding a pool party rather than movie night next Saturday.”
Steve’s shoulder relaxes as he resumes his parent voice, “There is something called a telephone and something called a landline.”
Dustin scowls, “I’m the one who brought Eddie that telephone, you tell me? We’re just working on a school project at Max’s, so.” And he throws his hands, like it explains everything.
“Okay, message received.” Eddie says.
“But last time I checked, Joyce and Hopper don’t own a pool?” Steve frowns.
“Yeah, it’ll be at your house.” Dustin shrugs.
“What?! Why am I the last one to know about this?” Steve gawks.
“You’re not. We haven’t told Robin yet.” Dustin confirms.
“Who are ‘we’?” Steve questions.
Dustin rolls his eyes, and counts, “We, as in El, Will, Lucas, Mike, Max, and me. Also, we called Erica, Nancy, and Jonathan. They’re on board.”
“Why do I get the feeling I have no say in my own house? How the hell it didn’t occur to any of you to get my approval first?”
“I’m getting it, now.”
Steve and Eddie speak simultaneously, “Dustin Henderson.”
“You can’t kill the messenger! It’s Max’s idea, okay? She said, It’ll be nice to have one pool party before some of us leave.” Dustin pleads, bashing his eyelashes. “Steve, please, just do it for old time’s sake!”
This kid knows exactly how to manipulate Steve.
Eddie copies the act, and pleads as well, “Steve, please.”
Steve glares at them like he sees the creepy twin from Shining. He pretends to debate for some moment, and sighs deeply, “... Fine...”
“Hooray!” Dustin cheers and runs off to the trailer next door, where louder cheers are coming from. Apparently, the rest of them were peeking through the gaps of the banister on the staircase.
“But you sly schemers have to clean the pool afterwards!” Steve calls.
“Okay, mom!” They call back.
“These nuggets.” Steve closes the door behind them, and walks Eddie backwards, “Do you think he noticed?”
Eddie thinks back, and shakes his head, “Nah. He’s busy with conspiring. Do you mind him knowing?”
“No, not at all.” Steve pushes him down on the sofa, and then collapses onto him, “You want to tell them?”
“Only if you want.” Eddie answers without hesitation.
“I want them to know. I do... But, I hate to make it a huge announcement or something. It makes me, cringe.”
Eddie imagines it, and nods, “Agree... Hear me out, we can have a little fun of our own, by letting them guess.”
Steve’s lips curl up amusingly, “Genius idea, Eddie. We need to start a betting pool with Robin, of who’s the first and the last to find out. My money’s on Max and Mike, respectively, for the record.”
“Look at you, Stevie,” Eddie will never cease to be surprised by Steve, “A rising criminal mastermind.”
“Well, I don’t see anything here that could’ve possibly polluted my innocent mind.”
♡♡♡
Steve half lies in the deck chair, watching Eddie and the kids play “Marco Polo” behind his sunglasses.
To Steve’s surprise, Eddie turns and meets his gaze. The afternoon sun shines on Eddie’s pale skin, making Steve want to lick it. Instead, he licks his upper lip.
Eddie climbs out of the pool and sits down in his chair, smirking, “Hey.”
“Hey.” Steve reaches to touch Eddie, and gets his hands soaked as a result. He protests, half joking, “Scooch your wet ass over or get a towel. You’re dripping.”
Eddie fakes a hurt huff and threatens to lie on top of him. He instantly tries to push Eddie away. Then, he’s blindsided by white fluffy clothing, capturing his head and blocking his view. He yelps, “Robin!”
Robin snorts, “Yes, I’m right here! Stop third-wheeling me!”
Eddie laughs mercilessly.
Steve extricates himself from the towel and glares at Robin.
“Jesus, Steve.” Robin points at his collarbone in disgust, “Is Eddie trying to eat you alive or what?”
Steve looks at where she pointed—a fresh bite mark partially visible. He organizes the shirt immediately and buttons it up, flushed.
Eddie, on the other hand, is having fun making the situation more insufferable, giving a thumbs-up, “Yes. It’s sweet and tasty. Top one on the Hawkins must-try list.”
“Eww, you two need to tone it down when we all live together, or I’m keeping all the wagers.” Robin gives them a warning glare and dives into the pool.
Steve throws the towel onto Eddie’s gloating face, and Eddie falls right onto Steve’s abdomen. And Steve pulls Eddie close, settling him against his chest.
“I’m starting to worry about our living arrangement.” Eddie’s voice comes from under the towel.
Steve chuckles, “It’ll be fine.”
Yeah, they will be fine.
The end.