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asexualasshat · 3 hours ago

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It's not like there's anything inherently wrong with Steve. Just...weird. Odd. A wealth of other various synonyms to describe his decidedly bizarre behavior.

Well, Bizarre's a strong word.

But Eddie's point still stands! Steve's a little to the left and it makes Eddie feel endlessly awkward for noticing. The fact that he's uncomfortable about it compounds his unease over it.

"Wanna talk about it, then?" Jeff asks, riffling idly through the record crate. Of course, the one day off they spend window-shopping in Indianapolis results in Eddie getting the fucking 'let's discuss our feelings about things' talk from Jeff. He wonders how the man isn't green with sickness from therapizing all the goddamn time.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'd look like an idiot."

"Would the idiot keep running or confront his problems head-on?"

"This feels like a trap."

"Oh yeah," Jeff says simply.

"Like the ones with the cardboard box and the stick."

"Pre-cisely."

Eddie's shoulders slump in defeat. Better the idiot who speaks, he supposes. "He's very smiley about me being gay."

"Smiley."

"Smiley. As in he's acting like I vomit flowers and shit rainbows." Eddie shakes his head in frustration. "I'm not opposed to the support and everything...it's just that. He's like an octave higher than usual about it."

Jeff purses his lips in thought. "Like, his voice?"

"No--like...like, he's very enthusiastic about my sexuality."

Eddie leans back against the shelf behind him. Steve's a nice guy, really, but the way he goes about his support of Eddie feels like he's trying to compensate for something. A lack of empathy when he was younger, perhaps.

"He always asks if I have a boyfriend, or if I've been hooking up with any guys lately--which, hello, does he not know that queer metalhead nerd isn't a very hot item here?"

Jeff pulls a face but nods in understanding.

"And when I tell him obviously no, he says he can hook me up with his, what? Fucking father's brother's cousin's former roommate? It's like he's begging for a double date with him and his new squeeze, it's goddamn ridiculous." "New squeeze?"

"I'm hyperbolizing." Eddie blows a raspberry and shrugs. "He says it's sad that I don't have someone for how good-looking I am. You're making the face again."'

Jeff snaps out of whatever trance he's in, his drawn eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. After his gawking mouth clacks shut, he cautiously gestures at Eddie to continue.

"It's stupid," Eddie concedes, "but I really don't understand what changed, y'know? He used to be this cool, confident guy with a dorky side, but now he's just so...I don't know."

Jeff smiles lightly and knocks Eddie's shoulder with his. "I have a theory."

"Go on."

"I think Steve isn't being supportive."

"Uh-huh."

"Far from it, actually."

"Yeah. Whatever you say, chief."

"He isn't smothering you," Jeff points out. "He wants to fuck you."

Eddie blinks. Takes a moment to access and really take in what Jeff just said. "What?"

"Or at least, he wants you in an entirely non-friendly and possibly even carnal way."

"Excuse me?"

"Biblically."

"Dude," Eddie insists. "What. The. Fuck."

Jeff raises his hands placatingly. "Steve clearly likes you. A lot. He probably sees you being gay as an in for him."

"Okay, well, I don't understand. He tries to set me up with randos he knows all the time."

"He called you good-looking."

"While he was trying to set me up with said rando!"

"Guys like him have a really backward way of doing things." Eddie crosses his arms sternly. "Or he's straight," he says.

"Again," Jeff asserts. "Good. Looking. Dude, he's fucking obsessed with you! You said he's an octave higher around you now, right?"

"Because he's a well-meaning friend?"

"Eddie, remember when he crashed band practice last week?"

Oh yeah, Eddie remembers that. The man of the hour randomly parked in Gareth's driveway, leaned against his Beemer with his arms crossed, and watched Eddie play like he fucking hung the moon. Afterward, he'd sung his praises for the band and gave Eddie a yellow guitar pick attached to a sparkling silver chain. "Found the pick a couple of towns south with Robin the other day. Reminded me of you," he said softly. "Since you lost your last one."

It went unspoken where Eddie lost 'the last one'.

Eddie remembers smiling back at Steve with the force of a thousand supernovas, and thinking later in the night that it felt like a scene from a romance movie. Steve's favorite color is yellow, isn't it? It was like he wanted a piece of himself with Eddie at all times, right next to his heart.

Eddie didn't want to give himself that stupid hope. That Steve Harrington wanted in on his heart.

It doesn't feel so stupid anymore.

He looks back at Jeff and says, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Part two

#hell yeah #steddie

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asexualasshat · 3 hours ago

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Part one

Admittedly, Eddie feels really fucking stupid about it in retrospect. Jeff tells him, in that soft and placating way he tells him anything, that he should stop worrying about his hindsight bias. Yeah, right. Hindsight bias doesn't apply for Steve Harrington dangling himself in front of Eddie's face like the metaphorical carrot on a stick.

It feels like a kick in the head, if anything. One that rattles his brain against his skull like the ricochet of a bullet. Or a maraca with a single, tiny bead in it, if he wants to be more technical about it.

But that's beside the point. What's important is that Steve Harrington is, like, into Eddie--which definitely throws all of his preconceived notions about boy wonder with serial monogamy problems of the heterosexual variety out of the fucking window and past the goalpost--and Eddie's been farting around for the past few months twiddling his fucking thumbs about it.

Well, it's not definitive.

The more that Eddie ruminates on it--and he spends several nights ruminating on it--Jeff's theory that Steve might be tipping the Kinsey scale sounds like...well. A theory.

It's the doubt that comes rearing its head that stops Eddie in his tracks from actually doing anything.

("Wow," Jeff grumbles as they hotbox in the back of Jeff's hand-me-down olive green Pinto a week after their stunning revelation, "trust Virgin Supreme to self-sabotage when someone is begging for you to climb on his lap and--"

"I told you that in confidence," Eddie spits as he digs through the glove compartment for a cassette to replace the oft-abused Kill 'Em All tape that's been blaring on repeat for the past two hours. "You're really mean when you're high, you know that, right?"

Jeff shrugs and takes a hit of the blunt they've been sharing. "I'm releasing my inhibitions. You can't silence me.")

Eddie trusts Steve. Of course he'd lay down his life for the man that dragged him out of hell without a single look behind like a preppy fucking Orpheus. But there's always the lingering thought that, despite everything they've gone through together, Eddie loving Steve would be the tipping point that ruins everything.

He finds himself balancing the line of keeping it in, too scared of the risk his heart will pose on their friendship, and fully committing to the pipe dream of Steve Harrington possibly wanting him back.

And, in Jeff's wise words, Biblically.

"Hey, Bird," Eddie asks Robin one night at the drive-in theater when Steve's out buying their snacks--medium popcorn loaded with cheddar powder and butter for Eddie, since he just popped a Lactaid ten minutes beforehand, and Milk Duds for Robin--"What would you do, hypothetically, if you think someone is really into you--"

"Here we go," Robin sighs, leaning back in the passenger seat. Eddie can't help but feel miffed at her dismissive attitude, but he knows for a fact that she's all ears.

"--And you, hypothetically, really like them back, but you don't know for sure if they actually, hypothetically, want you, or if it's just wishful thinking on your part?"

"Any you mean this totally hypothetically?" Robin says as she turns to face the rear seats where he's sitting and chewing at his cuticles.

"Yeah. This is a theoretical situation that I want your input in. Think of it like a...thought experiment."

Robin nods with narrowed eyes, like she sees through the bullshit with an all-seeing eye. "Right. Thought experiment. Is this hypothetical person a queer or not?"

"It never crossed your mind," Eddie confirms. "She looks like the posterchild of suburban heterosexuality, but she's gotten very invested in your very gay sex life out of the blue recently."

"So which one of you is the man invested or tell me about what eating out is like invested?"

"Tell me what eating out is like invested."

Robin hums in thought, tapping her index finger against her chin like the situation is really vexing her. "That sounds pretty gay, Eddie."

She is right, that does sound pretty gay. But it doesn't help him in his predicament at all, since Steve seemed to back off about the 'so do you play rock paper scissors to find out who gets it?' questions after Eddie frustratedly admitted that 'DnD club president and metalhead virgin at almost twenty' wasn't exactly a hot item in Indianapolis, much less Hawkins.

"Okay, new layer," Eddie says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "What if, say, instead of asking you out--which you think is her next move--she starts trying to set you up with a bunch of girls you don't know."

There's muffled chatter from outside the Beemer's windows. Cars rev in the distance as they pull into the lot. Eddie watches Robin in contemplative silence as she thinks through her answer.

"That is difficult," she concedes, and Eddie is feeling more desperate than ever. "Can't imagine that ever happening to me."

Eddie mumbles, "Thank God it's a hypothetical."

"But if you think about it, it's either some misguided attempt to put me out there, or it's a Hail Mary to get me to realize I like her."

"Okay, well. Both options seem pretty hard to differentiate when you don't know what the fucking context behind the action is."

"For what it's worth," Robin says, her expression softening ever-so-slightly, "I think it's the Hail Mary. It's not my place to tell, but you should really give up the idea that it's wishful thinking and give it a shot."

Eddie's a millisecond away from asking, is it that obvious? before there's a sharp knock against his window. He yelps, head whipping around to find Steve with that sly grin slapped on his stupid, handsome face.

Eddie rolls down the window and tries to school his expression. He doesn't need to, really, because Steve shoves the popcorn into his hands and declares, "A medium sized popcorn with cheddar powder and lots of fucking butter for you, my friend. Bone of a teeth."

"Just fucking say it regularly," Robin groans as he yanks open the drivers seat door and tosses her a box of Milk Duds. "I know you can, you jackass!"

Steve laughs, full and hearty, as he turns to look at Eddie in the rear seats. He's like bottled-up sunshine contained into the shape of an American heartthrob. He's like Venus as a boy.

Eddie feels like he's staring down the barrel of a gun.

Another week of ruminating goes by, this time with Robin's words echoing in his head like a reverb pedal, and Eddie keeps that yellow pick near his heart the entire time. It's a real push and pull type situation, he realizes. His heart goes one way, his brain goes the other, which is fucking typical.

He doesn't talk to Jeff about it, because he knows he'll get the same answer, and he doesn't dare talk to Robin about it again. He feels she knows too much, and he has know idea how much she's accidentally telepathically transferred to Steve.

Eddie is about halfway through debating shaving his hair off as a way of regaining control when he finds Steve standing on his doorstep like a fucking Mormon.

"Eddie, man," Steve says with zero preamble, "my cousin's boyfriend has a roommate that I think you'd like."

"Nice weather we're having," Eddie responds blankly. Frankly, with the way things are going, he's getting sick of it.

But he can't help the way that Steve still looks beautiful as his eyebrows bunch together and pretty pink lips pinch into a thin line.

"Come on, man. I think this'll be a good start for you. I think he's into the same bands as you. I think Kathy said he was a Skid Row roadie, or something like that."

"I'm not that big of a Hair Metal guy," Eddie admits, and Steve deflates a bit.

"Well, if it helps, he kind of looks like me.' Jesus Christ. "Devastatingly handsome and all."

Eddie's damn near about to snap like a worn-out Stretch Armstrong being mauled by two pitbulls. He feels like he's about to blow a fucking gasket in front of the guy he's been holding very ill-advised affection towards since his sophomore year of high school. The very same guy who's been trying to set Eddie up with literally everyone with a functioning penis with exception of himself, the only guy Eddie has wanted. Ever.

There's no way Steve is that dense, right?

Eddie knows that the guy's smart, despite everyone telling him otherwise. Steve can definitely do mental math better than Eddie can dream of doing--since Frankie Gershwin passed down the sacred Hellfire DM calculator once Eddie took over Hellfire after he graduated--and he actually graduated on time, unlike yours truly.

But Eddie doesn't fucking get it.

"Steve," Eddie blurts, rather unceremoniously, "what are you doing?"

Steve blinks. His smile wanes dangerously low. "...I'm setting you up with a handsome dude."

"I don't understand why you're doing this though. Are you fucking with me, or something?"

"No, dude, I just..." Steve's expression shifts. His shoulders sag and he rakes a hand through his hair. He looks devastatingly earnest. "I just want to see you happy."

"If you want me to be happy," Eddie snaps, "then just ask me out yourself, since I've fucking been in love with you since April."

Steve freezes, hazelnut eyes like full moons on dinnerplates.

Eddie's hand flexes on the doorknob as he resists the white-hot urge to slam the door shut on Steve's shocked face. Maybe he should take a vacation down south to Mexico. Perhaps change his name and never come back. Hopefully there'll be sweet and earnest boys with olive skin and luscious hair waiting for him on the beaches of Cancun. Holy shit this is a fucking disaster.

"Oh," Steve says.

"Yeah, oh."

"You love me?" Steve asks, eyes sparkling like the rural sky. He draws closer to Eddie, raising a hand that begs to touch him.

"When have I not?" Eddie admits as leans into Steve's touch against his shoulder and laces their fingers together.

I guess I was, uh. I wasn't expecting it." Steve smiles softly and gazes at their intertwined hands.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Love me too?"

"Oh God." It's like Eddie's staring straight into the sun, with the ways Steve's smile grows more intense with each second. He wants to have it burned into his retinas. "Of course I do. It feels so stupid how much I'm obsessed with you."

"You know, you have a weird way of putting it, what with all the setting me up with guys I don't know," Eddie chirps. Steve chuffs and shakes his head like a guilty dog.

"I guess I wasn't expecting you to want me back. I wasn't sure you'd go for guys like me."

For jocks hangs heavy and silent in the air between them, as if Steve hasn't quite jumped over that hurtle of guilt over the person he was in high school. Sure, he was king of the letter crowd, but he's nothing like the douchebag from '83. Steve would never shove him into a locker or be a general chest-beating moron around Eddie, because he's not a moron. He's sweet and dorky and a little misguided, sometimes, but he has the heart of the size of a mack truck and a kindness to show it.

The thought of Steve talking Eddie's ear off about Sportsketball and the works sends an excited little shiver down his spine.

"I would," Eddie says, completely and utterly honestly. "God, I would for you."

He brings Steve's hand to his lips and smacks a wet kiss over the soft skin. "And the necklace..."

"That was my Hail Mary," Steve admits with a bashful shrug of his shoulders.

"I haven't taken it off since you've given it to me."

Steve releases his grip from Eddie's spindly hand and brushes his fingertips against Eddie's collarbone, tugging at the chain of the necklace until it untucks itself from underneath Eddie's shirt. Eddie watches the way that Steve lights up like a fucking electrical surge at the hint of sunshine yellow against his pale skin. It makes Eddie flush a bright red.

And when Steve's palm flattens against Eddie's chest and pushes him inside Eddie's new government loaned trailer, he lets himself be pushed against the wall and kissed.

And kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

Sufficed to say, when Eddie wakes up the next morning with Steve drooling against the back of his neck and his warm hand splayed against the skin of his naked chest, Eddie vows to always take Jeff's word for it.

____________

holy shit i was not expecting for part one to get that much fanfare. to be honest, i was totally intending for it to be a one and done to explore eddie and jeff's friendship, and believe me, my heart is so warmed by the reception it got. i recently have gotten myself out of a months long slump and have been swamped with college work, so i apologize for my writing being so few and far between. thank you all and i hope this is the resolution you were waiting so patiently for! :)

@grtwdsmwhr @eyehartart @bananahoneycomb @notasmoothman @colidamae

#help fuckin yeah #steddie

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