just-ladyme - Tumblr blog

[just-ladyme]

The laws of physics don't apply to goats...

[just-ladyme]

No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

[just-ladyme]

JOE KEERY Behind the scenes for Finalmente L’alba

[just-ladyme]

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

[just-ladyme]

5+1 Things

cw: period-typical homophobia/ f-slur | tags: Wayne POV, hurt/ comfort

5 times Eddie trusts Wayne, and one time Wayne has to trust Eddie

Ao3 Link

✨✨✨

Wayne never wanted kids, is the thing. Never particularly wanted a partner, either.

He was happy in his solitude. Happy with quiet and stillness, happy with waking up alone and going to bed alone and happy with the freedom that came from his childless, spouseless life.

But he never could’ve said no to Eddie.

His yes was so immediate the social worker wasn’t so much as able to finish her sentence, Wayne already looking around his home wondering how in the hell he’d ever be able to make this place work for the both of them. Because Wayne knew what it was like to feel unwanted. Knew his brother did, too. Knew his brother was the type of man to inject that distinct type of pain into his own kid.

1.

“SHUT UP!” The door slams, the thin wood shuddering in its jam as it does, and Wayne hears the tell tale click of the lock that means he’s not going to see Eddie until tomorrow morning.

Wayne picks up the crumpled pages of Eddie’s essay, the 34 written in large, red marker still legible. He thumbs over it.

His handwriting is neat, for once. The black ink is unsmudged and his paragraphs are indented. His title is centered. All caps.

PRISONERS IN THE U.S.

Wayne stares at the words. The careful penmanship. The numbered pages at the bottom, one through three.

Wayne only has to get to the second paragraph before he can’t read any further, Eddie’s dark pen strokes carefully spelling out My dad has been imprisoned since-

He flattens out the pages. Wonders how in the hell he’s supposed to make this better.

Eddie’s music starts, then.

Wayne winces, the headache he’s been fighting since that morning surging in earnest at the noise. He can’t tell the difference between any of that racket but it seems to help Eddie. Helps to soothe him in a way Wayne can’t.

But it doesn’t take long for the neighbors to complain. He can hear them, just a few minutes in, over the screaming vocals of Eddie’s room, chittering outside like school mice.

So he’s not surprised when he has Mrs. Bellefonte and Ms. Reed on his front porch, blithering away about his nephew's music choices like it’s midnight and not five in the afternoon.

“It’s demonic, what he’s listening to.” Ms. Reed insists, her bright red hair done up in rollers. “And it’s disturbing the whole neighborhood. I’ve never had a problem with you, Wayne. You know I’m not one to complain, but ever since that nephew of yours came around here a few weeks back he’s been nothing but noise and trouble.” She cracks her gum, and a vein pulses in Wayne’s forehead.

Mrs. Bellefonte nods, her saggy jowls waving as she does. “We know it’s not your fault, here, Wayne. Not like you raised him, we know he came from that brother of yours. Not your fault he is the way he is, but we really must insist-”

But Wayne’s had enough. Of these stuffed shirts coming around to his home thinking they can prattle on about his nephew like they know the boy, like they know how good he is or isn’t.

“See here.” Wayne interrupts. And he’s always been quiet. Always been one of few words. Liked to let his actions speak for themselves, but he was a sergeant, as much as he now tries to forget Vietnam, and there he learned how to command those beneath him.

“We’re all gonna let my boy play his music. Because he ain’t bothering nobody. He ain’t knockin’ down mailboxes, like your boys, Miss Reed, and he ain’t leavin’ flamin’ bags of feces on neighbors front porches, like your boys, Missus Bellefonte. And if we ever hear of you running your mouths about him, or what he listens to, or any other nonsense, well, Chief Hopper is an old friend of mine. He might be interested in those pieces of information.” He smiles, through the screen door he hadn’t bothered to open. “And don’t you worry, you can trust that when I take my evenin’ smoke breaks, I see a whole lot more than just that.”

Not like he’d rat those boys out, a bit of property damage is nothing Wayne’d ever bat an eye at, especially in the parts of town those boys do it, but it has the intended effect. The women, seemingly struck dumb by Wayne’s words, huff, then huff again, before Mrs.Bellefonte utters one more intelligent “demonic”, before they leave his front porch with identical affronted looks.

Wayne closes the door behind him. Seals in the raucous noise of Eddie’s music.

He grabs a couple of Tylenol from the bathroom cupboard, and tries to watch the Hoosier’s play.

2.

“Got band practice tonight.” Eddie says, nose in the fridge. “Do we still have jelly?”

Wayne reaches around him, pulls the sticky jar of strawberry jelly from its spot in the door.

“With a knife, Ed,” Wayne reprimands, eyeing the way his boy’s about to empty the jelly onto his sandwich without one.

“Sorry,” Eddie grumbles. But he does what he’s told, grabs a knife from the drawer and dumps half the sugary mess onto bread before slapping it together and shoving it into a plastic bag, sucking the excess off his fingers.

He bolts from the kitchen, rustling around in his room, before running back a moment later, notebook in hand and his guitar and case strapped to his back. He grabs his sandwich and shoves it under one arm, effectively crushing it.

“We’ll be at Gareth’s,” Eddie says, walking to the door.

Wayne nods, looks to the fridge where Gareth- (812)555-6279 is scrawled in messy handwriting.

“Remember your helmet.” Wayne calls, scrubbing the pan he’s been soaking all day.

Eddie makes a noncommittal noise.

“I mean it, Eddie, not playin’ with that type of thing.” He gives up on the washcloth, bends over to see if they still have steel wool under the sink.

“There’s a talent show Thursday.”

Wayne looks up, Eddie at the door, slipping on his shoes.

“Just so you know.”

And then he’s gone, screen door slamming behind him, helmet gone from the basket by the door.

*****

In the end, Wayne had to call Jeff’s parents, Eddie having bolted from the house before giving him a single bit of helpful information.

Turns out his band’s in the talent show. Thursday, 6 o’clock.

Wayne had wanted to sit up front, but the PTA moms with their stiff hair and paisley dresses have taken up the first three rows by the time he arrives. Their husbands are eyeing the stage with unfocused eyes, looking like they’ve been drug here by the scruff of their necks.

Then again, they probably had.

The kids tap dance, and jump rope, and do all number of things Wayne tries very hard to stay invested in. Unfortunately, however, he’s starting to understand the blank looks all those other fathers are giving the stage, especially after two girls double dutch for twelve minutes straight. But when the very harried looking teacher announces Corroded Coffin in her nasally, wispy voice, Wayne sits up straight in his seat.

And Eddie doesn’t talk to Wayne about much. Not outside of the essentials. Nothing outside of we need more eggs and we have a half day at school tomorrow, but he’s seen Corroded Coffin scratched across Eddie’s notebook, the letters dark and angular.

The four of them strut out, Eddie leading proudly, decked out in those dark colors and silver chains that make the rest of the town whisper. He recognizes Gareth and Jeff, can’t remember if Ed ever mentioned the third one. But he sees his boy scanning the faces in the crowd, the hard line of his brows scowling into the audience like he’s bracing himself.

So Wayne waves. Softly, barely above his head, and it takes Eddie a moment, that horrible frown on his face like he knows it’s a lost cause, but Wayne can see the moment his boy sees him. His little eyebrows relax. Those wide brown eyes soften, and the barest hint of a smile graces Eddie’s lips before he waves back.

Wayne feels lightheaded with it. The little smile. The wave. And it settles within him that he’s finally done something right. Because coming and watching his boy play music he doesn’t understand in this stuffy gymnasium with women who glare at him for his dirty boots is never how he planned on spending an evening, but anything is worth it if it gets that boy to smile at him.

That rage he thought he’d buried months ago against his brother and his wife comes back with a vengeance, watching Eddie up on that stage, because how dare they. How dare they give this up, give Eddie up, give up the opportunity to see him play the songs he wrote on a guitar he’s spent months practicing on. Because Wayne can’t think of anything that would be worth missing this for. Miss the little glances of eye contact Eddie feeds him throughout their song, like he’s checking Wayne is still there, checking Wayne hasn’t left, that Wayne is paying attention.

Like Wayne could do anything other than hang onto Eddie’s every movement. Because his nephew is brilliant. Wayne can barely see his fingers, the way they move so quickly on that guitar, and Wayne’s never been one of any musical talent but he can see Eddie has it, can see his friends have it, too.

So he isn’t even embarrassed when all those parents with their ironed shirts and glinting watches stare as he gives Corroded Coffin a standing ovation. He claps his hands above his head and whistles two fingers in his mouth, proud, until Eddie is smiling wide and proper, his face beet red as he clambers off the stage.

Wayne finds them after. All the boys wearing identical expressions of giddy delight, their parents hovering behind them, looking equal parts happy and put upon.

Wayne’s nearly knocked in the face with Eddie’s guitar when his boy sees him. His scrawny arms lock around Wayne’s middle and his curly head of hair presses into Wayne’s chest, that guitar head nearly taking an eye out.

But Eddie’s hugging him. Holds on. Ties his little arms around Wayne and presses close, their knees knocking together.

Wayne swallows the lump in his throat. Wraps his arms around him.

“Now you’re gon’ start playin’ for me, right?” He asks, trying very hard to keep the emotion from wavering his voice, “‘cause I think I might start likin’ all that rubbish you listen to if you’re the one playin’ it.”

Eddie releases his hold, and for a moment Wayne thinks he’s ruined it, thinks Eddie’s about to shrink back into his shell because Wayne had to go and stick his foot in his mouth, but his boy is smiling when he pulls back.

“We have other songs.” He mumbles.

Then Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Shoves his hands inside his pockets. Like he’s embarrassed at the show of affection. Like he’s trying to contain himself. Trying to tone himself down. To not let himself get too excited. To not be too much.

So Wayne smiles back. Ruffles Eddie’s hair. “How ‘bout we get some ice cream, and then you can play ‘em for me?”

3.

Wayne’s gonna skin him alive. Gonna string him up by his toes on the flag pole until Eddie gets it through his thick skull that no matter how smart that boy is, he needs to go to class.

“Makin’ me leave work.” He hisses to himself, and Eddie better not be at home. Better be off somewhere else so Wayne can cool down before he grounds him ‘til next year, ‘til he graduates- no Hellfire. No band practice. Nothing until that boy starts applying himself.

Because Wayne knows if Eddie could just- sit down and use half of all that energy he spends on those damn campaigns- he could graduate with honors. Which only fuels Wayne’s anger. Eddie squandering himself like this. Because he doesn’t think himself worthy of graduating. Of anything better.

But Ed’s van is parked at home. And Wayne’s never been a yeller. Never been one to raise his voice or lose his temper, but it’s threatening to tear loose, now, seeing Ed’s car parked at home after he’d waved Wayne goodbye that morning.

He stomps inside, ready to see his boy sat on the couch or with his nose in the fridge, and he’s ready to shout some sense into him before he sees the main rooms are empty.

But Eddie’s door is shut, and this is Wayne’s home- and as much as he’s respected Eddie’s privacy over the years he’s not about to grant it to him now, not when he lied. Lied about goin’ to school today, lied through his teeth when he promised Wayne he’d start trying.

And trying damn well means going to class.

So he opens the door without preamble. Without a knock and without announcing himself, he walks into Eddie’s room ready to tear him a new one.

The words die on his lips.

Eddie, shirtless, with the Hargrove boy from down the street, both their belts unbuckled.

Hargrove leaps off the bed, his eyes wide and wild, putting as much space between himself and Eddie as possible.

“Wayne!” Eddie shouts, and his panicked tone makes Wayne look to him.

All that rage he’d felt not a moment ago drains from him, because his boy looks terrified. His eyes wide as dinner plates, his lips trembling as he looks from Wayne to the other boy and back again.

“It’s not-” Eddie starts, but Hargrove interrupts.

“He came onto me.” Hargrove growls, still in the corner. Shirt unbuttoned and fly open. “I’m not one of them, sir, he tricked me- I-”

But Wayne stops listening. Sees the look on Eddie’s face, and that’s all he needs to know.

“Get out.” He says, low and slow.

Hargrove’s mouth clicks shut. He stays frozen, cornered, until Wayne steps out of the doorway. Wayne’s eyes are on Eddie, now, who’s still looking at Hargrove like he’s hoping he’ll take the words back.

“He’s the faggot.” Hargrove barks, “not me.”

Wayne rounds on him. “GET OUT!” He bellows, and Hargrove flinches, good, before fleeing, doing up his jeans as he does.

Wayne thinks longingly of the shotgun under his bed as he follows the boy out of Eddie’s room and onto the porch, watches as that snake tears from his property.

Wayne doesn’t leave the porch until he can no longer see that boy’s silhouette.

“Goddamn it,” he whispers, and he wants to shout, wants to scream, wants to shove Eddie in bubble wrap and lock him in his room because his life was already hard enough. Already enough with his daddy who he is and his mama the way she is, with Eddie dressing the way he does and the hobbies he has and- and Wayne is scared. Scared for his boy and what the world will do to him.

What the world has already done to him.

He walks back to Eddie’s room. Tries to find the words to make this better. Tries to arrange them so he can fix this.

But when he gets to Eddie’s room there’s a bag on his bed, already haphazardly half filled with clothes, his copy of The Hobbit on top.

Eddie’s crouched low, under his bed, frantically tearing through the rubbish in a desperate search for something in particular. He finds it, stands, and freezes when he sees Wayne in the doorway.

His face and chest are red. There are still tears dribbling down his face.

“He’s right.” Eddie snarls, eyes shining. “About what I am. So you don’t have to say anything. I’m leaving myself. I’m nearly old enough.” He crams whatever he had in his hands into his bag, still shirtless, belt still undone, before stepping over to his desk. His shoulders shake. His hands tremble.

So Wayne doesn’t say anything. He walks up to his son, and pulls him into his chest.

Eddie fights him at first. His arms scramble. His legs push against Wayne’s. He pulls his head away, now crying in earnest, hiccuping sobs that shake his chest.

But Wayne holds on. Grips onto him the same way he did when Eddie realized Al wasn’t coming back. The same way he did when his mama asked for money for that final time.

Eddie’s movements get sloppier. Weaker. Until Wayne’s nearly holding his boy up as he sobs into his chest.

Eddie’s knees tremble. So Wayne whispers that Eddie’s okay. That he’s here. That he’s not going anywhere.

He wraps one arm tight around his boy. Brings his other hand up to Eddie’s head and strokes his soft curls.

“I love you, Eddie.” He says. And his voice doesn’t waver. He speaks clear, right into Eddie’s ear despite his own tears. “And you’re mine. Nothin’s ever changin’ that.”

✨✨✨

Next part is gonna be longer cause we meet Steveeeee yayy!

Probably gonna post part 2 soon cause this thing has me in a stranglehold (:<

[just-ladyme]

It’s Eddie’s first time in Steve’s car which Steve should have known meant Eddie was gonna snoop. But Steve doesn’t mind, it’s not like he has any secrets stashed away here anyway (couldn’t even if he wanted to, not with how often Henderson’s sitting right where Eddie is) and Eddie’s one of his best friends (which, yeah…still a little weird sometimes, if he’s being honest. But somewhere in the past couple months Steve&Robin turned into Steve&Robin & Eddie and Steve’s not complaining. Eddie’s great). So he just happily hums along to Everybody Wants To Rule The World playing from the radio and lets Eddie do his thing. And Eddie’s enjoying it. He’s rummaging through the glove compartment, making judgmental or approving sounds, commenting on tapes (”ugh, this one’s a crime“) and the gum one of the gremlins probably left there (”gross, Steve, watermelon flavor, are you serious?“). And then, "Dude…seriously?“ His tone’s so blunt and unimpressed that Steve frowns and throws him a glance. And oh, okay. Eddie’s holding up a condom in its shiny silver wrapping. Steve huffs out a breath, smirks and directs his eyes back at the road. "What, you’ve never had sex in a car?“ he asks. "I’ve never had sex, period,“ Eddie replies and- just- What? Steve blinks. "What?“ Eddie chuckles and there’s a slight self deprecating tone to it. "I’ve never had sex,“ he repeats. And then it sounds like he’s frowning when he adds, "what, does that really surprise you?“ "I mean…yeah,“ Steve says. "Obviously.“ "Obviously?" Eddie scoffs. "Steve, I’m Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. I’m a social outcast, play nerd games and have spent most of my time in a sweaty garage with my honestly not very good band. What about that makes you think I’m getting laid?“ "No, I just- I mean…“ Steve shrugs. "I mean you’re, like, objectively attractive, Eddie. You’re charming, you’re smart, witty…plus you have that whole…metalhead aesthetic thing going on,“ he waves his right hand in Eddie’s general direction, "I’m sure girls are into that.“ He shrugs again. "Hell, I’d have sex with you if I was a girl. So yeah. I'm surprised. I thought you were hooking up, like, all the time." Eddie doesn’t say anything for a moment. "Jesus Christ,“ he then whispers. Steve throws him another glance. "What?“ "Nothing, just- oh my god, Steve, there’s so much to unpack here.“

[just-ladyme]

I just BARELY made the deadline in my time zone, but I did it! This is for Lex's Summer Challenge, Dialogue prompt #25 :) Thank you @thefreakandthehair for organizing this!! <3

It's New Year's Eve, and Steve is not excited. 

The kids have all mostly agreed to stay together, setting off fireworks at the Wheeler's house. Robin has a band thing, meaning she will try to cozy up with Vickie but chicken out before the New Year's kiss. And Steve... he plans on checking in on Max who hasn't confirmed if she is going to Mike's. 

Things have been rough for her since Billy passed only a few months ago. She hates the trailer she had to move to, and as far as Steve can tell, her mom isn't around much. And if she is, she isn't sober. 

The worst thing is that Max doesn't open up to anyone, but there isn't much Steve can do about that. What he can do is drive to her place and bring her dinner. 

He goes about making her way too much spaghetti and makes the drive over. The sun is starting to go down, but he just hopes he can make it home in time to put on headphones and pass out before people start celebrating the new year.  

He just doesn't want to make it anyone else's problem that he no longer likes the look or sound of fireworks – flashes triggering migraines and memories of Russian torture – so he's put a plan in place. Luckily, everyone should be too busy with New Year's celebrations to pay him any attention. 

He pulls up to Max's trailer and parks outside, walking up to the door and knocking quickly. He waits a few seconds, listening for the sound of footsteps coming to the door, but they don't come. He pulls his jacket a little tighter around himself, shifts the tub of spaghetti from his left side to the right, and knocks again.  

After waiting a few minutes, Steve turns and notices the sun is now on the horizon. 

He glances around the trailer park, cursing himself for not bringing his walkie. His eyes land on a van at the trailer across the way that looks somewhat familiar. He notes that there are no negative thoughts that accompany looking at it, but rather, he feels a bit indifferent to it. 

He starts walking that way, hoping he knows the owner, and further hoping that they're nice enough to let him use their phone. He walks up the steps and knocks before stepping down. 

Luckily, this time he hears the sound of footsteps from inside and a bit of muffled cursing before the door swings open. 

Oh. That's how he knows the van. 

Eddie Munson looks down at him, totally bewildered, and shifts uncomfortably, eyes flickering toward the spaghetti while asking, "What are you doing here?" Before he can answer, Munson gets a look of realization and answers himself, "Right, my great supply." 

"No," Steve says quickly. "I just need to use your phone." 

Munson quickly stiffens again. "Why?" 

Steve sighs and shifts the tub again which has started to feel heavier with every passing moment. "My friend lives over there," he says, throwing his thumb over his shoulder, "And I need to check if she's okay." 

"No way," Munson says, hands coming up before he crosses his arms, "No way I'm letting you use my phone to call some hookup." 

"It's not a hookup. She's in middle school." 

"What?" Eddie asks, looking even more horrified. 

"Not like that!" Steve says and runs his free hand through his hair. "She's friends with a group of kids that I babysit." 

"And why do you want to call her?" 

Christ. "Because I'm worried about her, okay? She's not someone who asks for help, and she's not answering the door. I just need to know if she's safe at her friend's house." 

Eddie stares at him for a few more seconds then asks, "What’s the spaghetti for?" 

"Her." 

He's fixed with the same suspicious stare until Eddie finally nods his head and opens the door for Steve to come inside. Eddie gestures to where the phone is and leans back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms and watching his every move. 

Steve tries to shrug it off as he dials the Wheelers and waits for one of them to answer. 

"Hello?" 

Steve smiles and politely replies, "Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, it's Steve." 

"Oh, Nancy is currently-" 

"No, no," Steve cuts her off, seeing the way that Eddie is starting to tense up. "I wasn't calling about Nancy. I was just wondering if Max was there with the other kids. I stopped by to check on her, but she didn't answer the door." 

Steve can feel his heart thud in his chest as he waits for the reply. "That's very kind of you. But she's with the boys right now. Did you want me to pass a message to her?" 

"No," Steve says in relief. "No, I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler. Happy New Year." 

"Happy New Year, Steve," she replies and hangs up. 

Steve puts the phone back and turns to Eddie. "Thanks, man. I owe you one." 

Eddie tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. "Why do you care about her so much?" 

Steve sighs and gestures toward the counter with the container of spaghetti in hand. "Can I?" Eddie nods in response, so Steve sets it down. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, "Do you remember Billy Hargrove?" 

Eddie scoffs, "Like I could forget the asshole." 

Steve nods. "Well, Max was his step-sister." 

"Oh," Eddie says, shifting uncomfortably. 

Steve shrugs. "They didn't have the greatest relationship, but she's been really closed off since...” he trails off uncomfortably, trying not to remember the moment he died. 

Eddie nods his head. “Right.” 

Steve nods back and gestures toward the spaghetti, changing the subject. “You can have that by the way as a thank you for letting me use your phone. I really appreciate it. And hey, Happy New Year.” 

Eddie’s jaw drops slightly as if he wants to say something but none of the words come out. So, Steve walks to the front door and opens it. He doesn’t even move a step down the stairs before a big firework lights up the sky as the loud noise rings out. 

Steve freezes. He feels his breathing getting shaky and shallow as he remembers the fireworks exploding on that spider looking thing’s back. 

He closes his eyes tight, trying to fend off the images, but the darkness only reminds him of the black that slowly devoured his vision when the Russians knocked him out.  

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice says, “I’ve got you.” 

Steve notices the way he’s somehow on the ground with his back pressed against something warm and that same heat wraps around his torso. He blinks back into reality a bit as warm hands run up and down his arms slowly. “You okay?” 

Steve sinks back into Eddie’s arms and closes his eyes. "Fireworks aren't exactly... my favorite thing." 

Eddie breathes out sharply through his nose. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.” 

Steve just nods, allowing himself to be comforted for a few seconds before he tenses up and begins to stand up. “Sorry,” he apologies as he makes his way back to the front door. “Don’t know what got into me.” 

He puts his hand on the door handle, moving his body to block Eddie’s view from his shaking hand. 

“Hey,” Eddie says close behind him, “Just stay until the fireworks stop. I don’t want you driving into my trailer on the way out or something.” 

Steve turns and asks, “Are you sure?” 

Eddie nods and gestures to the container. “Plus, there’s no way I can eat this whole thing on my own.” 

Steve is about to say that he’ll be fine when another firework goes off outside, startling him again. “Okay,” he agrees, wondering how the hell this is going to end up. Steve “The Hair” Harrington and Eddie “The Freak” Munson spending New Years together. 

Eddie hands Steve the container and grabs two bowls and forks before walking off. Steve follows behind him to what he assumes to be Eddie’s room, slightly confused about the change in scenery. 

“Sorry it’s a mess. I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Eddie says awkwardly shoving things around. 

Steve just smiles as he looks at the room. “I like it. It feels comfortable,” he confesses. And it does. With the way his parents force him to keep a spotless room that never feels lived in, it’s nice to be in a bedroom that really reflects someone. 

Eddie considers him for a moment and just nods as he takes the container and sets it on his dresser alongside the bowls before pointing at his stack of tapes. “I’m going to guess our music taste isn’t really similar, but feel free to dig through for something you might like that’ll drown out the fireworks.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat at the thoughtfulness before he makes his way to the tapes, digging through several unfamiliar names that he kind of wants to ask about, but instead he can’t help but ask, “So, what are you doing alone on New Years?”  

Eddie scoops himself a generous amount of pasta as he answers, “Gareth is at a school thing, Jeff is with his family in New York, and Grant’s parents kind of don’t like me.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Eddie fixes Steve with a look. “I’m not exactly ‘meet the parents’ material, and it doesn’t help that I used to hold band practice in his garage and would play louder whenever they told us to quiet down.” 

Steve smiles. “I would love for you to do that to my parents. God, they would be so pissed.” He grabs another tape and instantly smiles and holds it up to Eddie. “I love Queen.” He immediately puts it into the cassette player and turns the volume up enough to block out additional noise while still being able to hear Eddie talk. 

He turns and finds Eddie handing him a bowl and fork with a soft smile on his face, “You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. 

Eddie nods and sits cross legged on his mattress. “Honestly, I thought you’d be an asshole. You know. King Steve and all that shit.” 

Steve runs a hand through his hair as he sits next to him. “I don’t think I’m ever going to live that down.” 

“You will if you get out of Hawkins,” Eddie says, shoveling a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. 

Steve twirls his pasta and stares at it. “I don’t know if I’ll ever leave here,” he confesses. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m not smart enough to make a living somewhere else. Plus, if I move, my parents likely won’t support me – my dad likes keeping me under his thumb. And the kids need me to drive them around.” And they need him in case Hawkins gets another dose of Hell, but he can’t tell Eddie that. “Plus, I don’t think there’s anywhere that would accept me, a former jock and asshole whose only friends are children and Robin. And they’re all so smart that they’ll eventually realize they’re dumb for keeping me around.” He stabs at his spaghetti before putting the bowl down and resting his head in his hands. “I don’t know, man.” 

There’s a pause, and Steve hears a dull thud from a firework outside the trailer even over the music that startles him a bit. It’s so damn annoying that something small like this can reduce him to this. 

“Run away with me.” 

Steve head slowly comes up. “What?” 

Eddie wipes his mouth and sets his bowl on his side table. “Run away with me,” he repeats. “After I graduate, I’m going to run like hell out of here. Come with me to find a place that accepts a former jock and a...” he trails off and looks away nervously. “Uh, a freak,” he awkwardly fills in. 

The bowl in Steve’s hand suddenly feels like it’s in the way, so he sets it on the floor before turning to Eddie and leaning closer to him, hands itching to reach out. “Come on, you can tell me what you were really going to say.” 

Eddie searches his eyes before laying back on his bed dramatically, trailing his hands over his face. “You know what I was going to say. You’ve heard the rumors. Everyone has.” 

Steve has heard several rumors about Eddie, including one about how he worships the devil and does satanic rituals on top of his trailer in the middle of the night. But he has a feeling he knows which rumor he’s talking about. “Yeah, but rumors are rumors for a reason. You never know which ones are true.” 

Eddie sighs and looks up at Steve. He looks like he’s on the verge of telling him before he asks, “So, why aren’t you with your friends tonight? The kids or Robin.” 

He looks down at Eddie for a few moments, wondering if he’ll drop the question, but he holds his ground. Steve shrugs. “Robin is at the thing with all the band kids, chickening out with her crush, and the kids don’t want their babysitter around. Plus, they want to launch fireworks or play Dungeons and Dragons or something.” 

Eddie perks up and sits up on his elbows. “Dungeons and Dragons? The kids you babysit play that?” 

“Yeah. And don’t make fun of them for it. They talk about it all the time, and I think it sounds cool,” Steve says, always quick to defend Dustin even if he’s into weird nerdy shit. 

Eddie sits up entirely and looks at Steve excitedly. “You think Dungeons and Dragons is cool?” he asks in disbelief. 

Steve shrugs in response. “It’s not really my thing, but yeah.” 

“Dude, I’m the leader of Hellfire. You know, the Dungeons and Dragons club at school? What are the kids' names?” 

“Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.” 

Eddie bounces up and down excitedly. “Holy shit, I thought Dustin was kidding when he said he was friends with you.” 

It suddenly clicks, Dustin had mentioned Eddie’s name before, but Steve had never really thought about it as Eddie Munson of all people. “Shit, Dustin talks about you all the time, I just never connected the dots.” 

“He doesn’t shut up about you. The kid adores you. He’d kill me if I took you away from here.” 

“And he’d kill you if you ever left.” 

Eddie smiles and nudges Steve. “Looks like we’re both stuck here.” 

Steve smiles back at him, eyes tracing over Eddie’s face. He’s not sure why he’s never really noticed him before. He guesses he’s always been so stuck in his own shit that Eddie just kind of passed him by somehow. But he’s finally noticing his dimples, and the way his eyes are so deeply brown and easy to get lost in, and his lips looks so full and- 

Eddie lightly shoves him back, a pink blush appearing on his cheeks, “Eat your spaghetti before it gets cold.” 

Steve grabs his bowl and does as he’s told, watching as Eddie gets up to turn up the music a little louder. When he sits back on the bed, the two eat in comfortable silence, letting the music fill the space. Steve’s not sure if he’s ever been able to warm up to someone so quickly, but it makes sense that he’d be able to bond with someone who loves Dustin. 

The song ends and goes into the next. Steve finishes his last bite of spaghetti and laughs as “Somebody to Love” starts playing. He puts his bowl down and lays back on the bed, letting the song wash over him. He sings the lyrics under his breath until he hears Eddie doing the same thing and turns to look up at him. They lock eyes just in time to sing, “Can anybody find me somebody to love?” 

Eddie laughs and lays next to him joining him through the rest of the song. Steve feels ridiculous, but Eddie makes a show of playing air guitar, yelling, “I know how to play this!” Steve just laughs and watches him, feeling his heart beat a little faster in a way it hasn’t for somebody else in a while. 

He sings the rest of the song, mainly focusing on Eddie and the way he so easily gives into the music, unafraid of what Steve might think. As it comes to an end, Steve feels something shift inside him, but Eddie is quick to laugh, “Steve Harrington how can you be struggling to find somebody to love?” 

Steve smiles sadly. “I think I’ve been looking in the wrong place all along, but I’ve been starting to think that maybe I’m unlovable.” 

Eddie scoffs and moves closer to him. “If you think you’re unlovable then there’s no hope for the rest of us.” 

Steve has to move closer to hear him over the music and talk without shouting. “Does that include you?” 

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, tilting his head with a curious smile. 

“I think,” Steve starts, unsure of how he’s going to finish the sentence, “If there’s no hope for you either, then maybe...” 

“Maybe?” Eddie prompts. 

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips. “Maybe...” He looks up at Eddie’s eyes, seeing the confusion, slight fear, and hope. “Maybe you should finish what you were going to say earlier.” 

“Steve...” Eddie says, “You can’t be asking me...” 

“Then, I’ll ask you. Is it midnight yet?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Not even close.” 

“What if I lie and say that it is so I can ask you for a New Years kiss?” Steve asks boldly. 

Eddie’s breath hitches. “Then, I’d say yes and start counting down from ten.” 

“Nine,” Steve says immediately. 

“Eight,” Eddie replies, shifting onto his knees. 

“Seven.” Steve scoots closer, leaning in to brush their noses together. 

“Six,” Eddie exhales. 

“Five.” Steve’s hands come up to hold onto the back of Eddie’s head. 

“Four.” Eddie’s hands press into Steve’s back to bring him closer. 

“Three.” Steve tilts his head, already brushing his lips against Eddie’s, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Two,” Eddie whispers, hands gripping on tighter, left hand tracing up between his shoulders to slot their torsos together. 

“One,” Steve says, barely finishing the word as he presses his lips against Eddie’s, finally ending the longest countdown of his life. 

He deepens the kiss immediately, tasting spaghetti and a hint of something that is purely Eddie which he finds entirely intoxicating. 

The music fades from one song into the next, and Steve’s pretty sure a firework goes off in the silence, but he’s too distracted by Eddie to really respond to it. He feels Eddie’s arms tighten around him, slowly guiding him down to lay back on the bed. 

Eddie breaks the kiss to look down at Steve. “This okay?” he asks. 

Steve nods and says, “Happy New Year.” 

Eddie smiles and shakes his head in disbelief. “Happy fucking New Year.” 

He finally understands why people cheesily talk about fireworks going off during a kiss. And maybe even with everything, fireworks aren’t too bad if this is what he can associate them with. 

[just-ladyme]

He got the same reaction every time. He rolled his eyes, scoffed, and blushed. If it weren’t for that Eddie would have stopped a long time ago. Or at the very least dialed it back a bit. But now…now there is no going back.

Flirting with Steve was as easy as breathing.

It all started with his introduction to the upside down. Normally he wouldn’t blatantly flirt with a guy like that, especially one who could kick his ass. But he was probably going to die and Steve is literally gorgeous. Sue him.

What he didn’t expect was Steve to be okay with it. Well, he didn’t give Eddie a disgusted look or keep his distance. On the contrary, he may have looked a little confused, but Steve seemed to lean into it. Granted, Steve may have been of the same probably won’t survive this so what’s the harm mindset but still. Eddie would take what he could get.

After Vecna’s death and everything ending (fight me duffel bags) Eddie maybe sort of kind of accidentally slipped into a habit of flirting with Steve all the time. Like literally all the time.

It started off slow with a few sly grins and head tilts, then he added a few pet names (big boy, sweetheart, sweetie, babe, and darling just to name a few), then he would throw a wink in every now and then.

And EVERY TIME without fail Steve would have the same reaction. Eye roll, scoff, blush. Like clockwork. He even started using cheesy pickup lines (“if you were words on a page you’d be fine print” “did you just come out of the oven? Cause you’re hot” “do you box in your free time? Because you’re a knockout”).

If Steve ever had a problem with it he never said, so Eddie just kept going thinking that maybe Steve just thought he was being funny. You know just straight guys being dudes. Until the day he got a response.

He was at Family Video with Steve and he was wearing one of his stupidly cute pastel sweaters (blue this time), and he decided to be bold. He reached for Steve’s sweater and felt the fabric, “you’re sweater is so soft Stevie”. He knew he would feel stupid later but right now he couldn’t care less.

Steve paused before answering, “thanks, it’s made of boyfriend material,” and then he fucking winks at Eddie.

Eddie fully shuts down. To this day he does not remember the conversation that followed or the walk back to his van. He really never thought Steve would flirt back. I mean who does he think he is? Eddie eventually came to the conclusion that Steve was just messing with him, but it kept happening.

-

They were in Eddie’s kitchen when he offered Steve a bag of chips, “you want some of these?”

“Honestly I’m more interested in the guy holding them but I guess that’s fine.”

-

Not only that he started using pet names too like honey and handsome (this one he has not fully recovered from).

It’s a little ridiculous how attention from Steve Harrington makes his brain go full static mode but he can’t help it, he never thought he’d be here.

With Steve now involved in the flirting, things escalated quickly. Most interactions ended with them both blushing and one (usually Eddie) leaving soon after.

One night Steve invited him over to watch a movie. One he assumed would involve literally anyone else, but it was just the two of them. Not unheard of but it was rare that Robin skipped on movie night. They settled in and started watching but Eddie couldn’t focus because their knees were touching. As the movie continues Steve got up to get more water and when he returned he sat even closer. Their sides were completely flush and he doesn’t even know if he could tell you his middle name right now.

Eddie glanced over at Steve who was enjoying the movie looking unfairly pretty in the light of the tv. Eddie had an idea to see how far he could take this (was this his way of getting Steve to reject him already so he could move on? Maybe). He slowly lowers his head onto Steve’s shoulder and holds his breath staring wide eyed at the screen. Steve shifts and raises his arm winding it around Eddie’s shoulders. No hesitation, just cuddles him into his side like it’s no big deal. Meanwhile, Eddie can feel every point of contact between him and Steve.

He’s kicking himself for letting himself get into this position with the straightest guy ever, when he hears it. Steve’s heart is racing. Okay so maybe he’s nervous that Eddie will take his action the wrong way. Or maybe…maybe he’s not as straight as previously thought. Eddie decides to push the envelope even farther by placing his hand on Steve’s leg, just above his knee.

He feels more than hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath and he mentally prepares to get pushed away. Instead Steve hunkers down in his seat and pulls Eddie closer, almost like he was waiting for permission. Eddie follow suit and nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder. They somehow manage to finish the movie like this before acknowledging their position. Once they pull away Steve asks,

“Do you want to stay the night?” Again not unheard of but it has a different connotation now.

Eddie just stares. He can’t help it, Steve’s eyes are wide and hopeful. With his tilted head he is giving a whole new meaning to puppy dog eyes. Eddie really hopes he is not reading this wrong but despite his failings in academia, Eddie is smart. He knows the rules of D&D inside and out, can make a new plot on the fly, and has read the Hobbit in a day (multiple times). He’s not stupid which is why he’s pretty sure Steve is into him.

Before he can give his brain enough time to tell him he’s wrong he brings a hand to Steve’s face and cradles his cheek. “Please don’t punch me for this,” he says before leaning in and pressing his lips to Steve’s. His lips are slightly chapped whereas Steve’s are soft and he can feel stubble an Steve’s jaw and he has never been happier and-

Oh shit. He’s not kissing back. Scratch that earlier statement Eddie is in fact the biggest fucking idiot to ever live.

Eddie quickly pulls away, ripping his hand back as he stumbles over an apology. “I am so sorry, I must have read that completely wrong. I get it if you want me to-“

Steve crashes his lips to Eddie’s, both of his hands holding Eddie’s face. The Smartest Man Alive™️ kisses back placing one hand on Steve’s forearm and the other covering one of the hands on his face.

They both pull away breathing heavy. Steve is wearing a grin the Eddie knows he is matching. Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s and says, “you definitely didn’t read that wrong.”

[just-ladyme]

steve is the type of bisexual who would very much deny being bisexual BUT NOT IN AN INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA WAY but in a stupid “im not gay im just comfortable with my sexuality” type of way

he would think its normal to admit when a man is conventionally attractive bc its just a Fact but what he doesnt realize is that its not very straight to want to makeout with that man

so you can imagine robins Shock when steve very nonchalantly says “eddie’s got a real badboy thing going on, im surprised he doesnt get any girls. i would let him push and kiss me against a wall” and only follows up with, “what? its not like a gay thing. he’s good looking. you cant deny that!” “yeah, hes good looking but i dont think i would go as far and say id let him kiss me against a wall??” “well yeah bc youre gay” “and you??? whats your excuse?”

he opens his mouth with a finger raised but pauses midair then promptly closes his mouth with a confused scowl on his face because what is his excuse?

[just-ladyme]

Modern Steddie AU

“Oh she’s cute.” Robin points over to a table near the bar.

Steve follows her finger and the blonde in the pink pleated skirt is, in fact, very cute. “You should go talk to her.”

Robin gives him a look, “Literally everything about her screams ‘straight’ so no thanks,” she takes a sip of her cocktail, “Don’t feel like getting humiliated today.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I doubt she’d humiliate you but suit yourself.” He stands and fluffs up his hair a little, “If you won’t, I sure as hell will.”

Before his friend can protest, Steve’s strutting over to the girl’s table. She looks up at him when he stops and leans slightly against the chair opposite from hers.

“Hi!” she greets before he can say anything. Her whole face lights up as she smiles. She’s definitely cute, but not exactly what Steve had in mind for the night.

“Hey,” Steve flashes his own smile, “I was just telling my friend how cute you are and wanted to know if I could maybe buy you a drink?”

Her face goes pink, but her smile falters slightly and a small frown forms. “Oh that’s so nice of you, but I’m actually a lesbian,” she seems genuinely upset at having to break this news to him. “I’m really sorry, you seem lovely.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains, “Oh, god, sorry I should have asked,” he laughs, “That’s totally my bad.”

She shakes her head and leans forward in her seat, “Not at all, sweetheart!” there’s a slight southern accent slipping through and her smile is back. “You couldn’t have known, I know I don’t exactly look the part.”

“Well, since I’m already here,” Steve smirks, glancing over his shoulder to where he can see Robin watching the scene unfold. Her eyes snap away once she realizes he’s looking at her. “My friend over there is single and also extremely gay.”

Chrissy looks over and her smile turns coy, “Now she’s cute,” her eyes snap back to Steve. “She’s the one who told you to come over?”

“The opposite, actually. She thought you were straight so, I came over instead.” Steve explains.

Chrissy nods, glances over her shoulder and then stands. “Well, I’ll just have to go over there then.”

Steve smiles, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Chrissy.” The blonde extends her hand and Steve shakes it. “Thank you for letting me know the girl I’ve been eyeing is queer.”

Steve gives her a two-finger salute and goes to walk away, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Do you like men, by any chance?” Chrissy asks, her smile alluding to something.

“Is it that obvious?” Steve laughs.

She gives him a once-over, “The tight shirt sort of gave you away.”

“Fair enough. Why do you ask?”

Chrissy points over to a curly-haired guy covered in tattoos, who’s ordering at the bar, “You should go talk to my friend, Eddie, he’s been blabbing about the hot jock in the polo since you walked in.”

Steve swallows, he’d seen the guy when they walked in, but hadn’t allowed himself to look. He was the kind of hot and scary Steve usually avoided due to their usual disdain for preppy guys like Steve. But surely if he kept Chrissy around, he couldn’t be all bad.

“I don’t exactly seem like his type.” Steve points out, giving Chrissy a nervous glance.

She laughs, “Oh please, pretty boy with big eyes and a great body? You’re everyone’s type.”

“Not yours.”

“Trust me honey, if you were a masc lesbian I’d be all over you right about now.” Chrissy winks and Steve can feel his face heating up.

“I don’t want to bother him…”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Just use the same line you used on me, he doesn’t bite.” she pauses, “Unless you ask really nicely.”

Yeah she isn’t exactly easing his nerves with these little jabs.

“He looks like he carries a knife.” Steve’s just stalling at this point.

“I know he seems kinda mean and scary, but he’s really just a big ol’ softie, trust me,” she pats his shoulder, picks up her drink and starts walking towards Robin, “Now I’ve got a pretty lady to talk to, so get! Go make a move on the scary metalhead, Steve!”

Steve watches her go, his amusement growing at the sight of Robin’s panic when Chrissy plops down at their table.

Mustering up the courage to walk to the bar, he turns but immediately bumps into someone. The person manages to steady their drink and somehow prevent Steve from falling on his ass, grabbing him around the waist.

“Shit sorry!” Steve finds his footing, only to nearly lose it again when he looks up to find his face a few inches away from the aforementioned friend of Chrissy’s.

Eddie smiles, squeezes Steve’s waist once before releasing him, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”

Steve’s face must have been bloodshot at that point. Two people had called him sweetheart within the span of a few minutes. At this rate his brain was going to malfunction entirely.

Eddie studies him for a second, his eyes twinkling, before looking over to the now unoccupied table. He frowns, looking around the bar.

“She’s over there.” Steve points to where the two girls are deep in conversation.

Eddie’s eyes look from Steve to Chrissy and back again. “Were you heading back there?”

“Uh, no, actually,” Steve clears his throat. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “I was told to go talk to the scary metalhead?”

Eddie’s grin returned, showing off his dimples. Steve was allowing himself to stare at the man now, and god was he stunning.

“Scary? That’s rich coming from the girl who literally carries a knife with her.” Eddie sits down at the table and looks at Steve expectantly, “I don’t bite,” he gestures for him to sit, so he does.

“Apparently you do if I ask nicely,” Steve says, then feels his face heat up again when he hears what he said.

Eddie laughs, loud and beautiful, “God, she really knows how to play wingman, huh?”

[just-ladyme]

(I just died) in your arms

This fic is for our friend @corrodedbisexual birthday! Happy birthday, Konst!!!!!!

@sidekick-hero @yournowheregirl and I combined our brains when we found out it was your birthday, so we're glad you liked it <3333

Rated T | 2016 words | No tw | Read on ao3!

This is so dumb.

It's 3 a.m., and Eddie is walking down the dorm hallway with his homemade Dio blanket wrapped around him. He wouldn't be here if the damn pipe would stop leaking. But no. All he's heard for the last three hours is drip, drip, drip and it's driving him crazy. It feels like some kind of torture that the Resident Advisor from hell, Keith, is playing on him. Some kind of revenge for all the times he caught Eddie smoking in his dorm.

The halls are dead quiet at this time of night, and all Eddie can hear is his feet shuffling on the linoleum floor. He's trying to think of a place to crash for the night, because there's no way in hell he would ever be able to fall asleep in his room tonight. Maybe the couch in the common area will do. But Eddie remembers the slightly illegal keg party from last week, and he's not too keen on sleeping on a couch with multiple stains from spilled liquids and other, uh, fluids. No, thank you.

Since the common area is a bust and Gareth, Jeff and Frankie all live across campus, there's only one door Eddie can knock on. One friend who might let him sleep in his room.

4C. Steve Harrington.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie shuffles across the hall and pauses in front of Steve's door. He knows it's a lot to ask, especially since it's the middle of the night and he and Steve aren't that close. Well, Eddie wants to be closer to Steve, very close, which makes him realize that this might be a bad idea. Nothing says awkward like sleeping in the same bed with the guy who stars in way too many daydreams to be casual about it.

Then he remembers the sound of his leaky pipe again, drip, drip, drip, and a shiver runs through him. He'll deal with any kind of awkward situation between him and Steve as long as he doesn't have to go back to his room for the night. He'll have his trigger-happy heart under control. He'll be fine.

Eddie knocks on the door three times, and part of him hopes that Steve is already awake, that Eddie didn't wake him, but —

The door opens to reveal a rumpled, sleepy-looking Steve, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tries to figure out who is disturbing him at this hour of the night. His hair is all over the place and he's wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips. Eddie's lips can't help but twitch at the sight of Steve before he finishes his morning hair routine, and he has to will his body not to react to Steve's sleep attire.

"Eddie?" Steve says, obviously groggy.

"Hey, Steve, hi. You're probably wondering what I'm doing here." Eddie smiles nervously. When Steve just blinks at him, he takes that as a cue to continue.

"Funny story, actually," He laughs. The lack of sleep must be kicking in, which always makes him feel a little drunk and giddy. "There's this really annoying pipe in my room that's slowly driving me crazy, and I really, really, really need to get some sleep, man. I might even start crying if I don't get some soon. So, I was wondering... Could I crash in here?"

Eddie rushes out the last sentence as fast as he can, like he's ripping off a Band-Aid, and trying to startle Steve into saying yes. He even puts on his best pleading face, eyebrows down and lips curled into a pout. The only thing he doesn't fake are the wet eyes that come with the fact that he's so fucking tired.

"Uh," Steve starts, but Eddie doesn't even let him finish his sentence. He just keeps talking, desperately trying to convince Steve to let him stay.

"I'll clean your room for a week. No, wait. A month. I'll give you 20 bucks," Eddie rambles, before remembering that he doesn't have 20 bucks, "or maybe not. But I'll get you coffee every morning for a week, and carry your stuff to class, and..." He pauses to think of something else he could offer Steve in exchange for a good night's sleep. But one look at Steve's face tells him that Steve is either confused or about to get pissed at him, and Eddie doesn't like his chances if it's the latter.

So Eddie drops to his knees, clasps his hands together in plea and continues, "I will never make fun of your stupid car poster ever again. That's how serious I am. Please let me crash here tonight.”

Steve casts his eyes to the ceiling as if begging the heavens for patience. When he looks back down and finds Eddie still kneeling in front of him, he squeezes his eyes shut once before opening them wide. He repeats the motion several times, as if trying to wake himself up even more. Sighing deeply, he turns and beckons Eddie inside, his voice sounding so very done as he says, "Dude, it's 3 a.m. Just — Stop talking and c'mon in."

Eddie jumps back up, pulls his blanket back over his shoulders, and jokingly says to Steve, who is already walking back inside his dorm, "Wow, you're easy.”

Steve stops in front of the twin bed that adorns all the rooms here, his eyes already falling closed again as he motions toward the rumpled sheets and single pillow. "Shut up and go to sleep, Eddie."

Not needing to be told twice, Eddie crawls in first, lying on his back with his shoulder against the wall, and Steve slides in next to him. Even though it's a twin bed, there's a noticeable gap between them, which is definitely intentional. And that's fine. There are, like, boundaries and shit when you share a bed with a very male, very hot and very straight friend, right? Not that he would know. Sharing a bed with Steve doesn't happen every day — or ever.

Not that Eddie hasn't thought about it, late at night, lying in his own bed. He has eyes, okay? Steve Harrington is the hottest guy Eddie's ever met in person, and judging by the not-so-platonic dreams he's had about him, Eddie's subconscious agrees.

In an effort to put even more platonic space between them, Eddie turns on his side, his back to Steve, and with his body practically hugging the cold wall, he stage whispers, "Good night, Steve.” The only response he gets is the soft and even breathing of the other man. Eddie smiles to himself, imagining Steve next to him, face pressed into the pillow, making those cute little snoring noises.

He falls asleep, taking that mental image with him, dreams haunted by moles and freckles and bed hair that he runs his hand through and grips tightly as a heavy weight settles on him and he...

Opening his eyes to a pitch-black room, Eddie is confused as to where he is, his Garfield nightlight that he brought from home missing. There is a heavy weight on top of him, however, and when he looks down his body, he finds a wild mop of hair under his chin that can only belong to Steve.

Steve, who is currently draped over Eddie's front, arms hugging Eddie's body like he's a giant teddy bear. Eddie thinks about waking Steve up, or even untangling him as carefully as possible, so they don't wake up to something that could quickly become very embarrassing. He doesn't want to, enjoys the weight of Steve on top of him, or the way Steve's face is pressed into his collarbone, his hot breath fanning across his skin. But Steve's leg is also slung over Eddie's hip, his knee digging into Eddie's bladder in a way that borders on uncomfortable, so he nudges Steve's shoulder gently.

"Steve?" Nothing. He nudges him harder, earning a small sound for his efforts. "Hey, Steve, your knee is kinda pointy and my bladder doesn't like it."

"N'awwwww," is all he gets back, Steve's tone being almost condescending and Eddie shouldn't be surprised that Steve is a little bitch, even in his sleep. Smiling despite himself, he just shuffles around a bit until Steve's knee is no longer an issue and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to come again.

Sleep must have embraced Eddie quickly because his watch flashes 6:30 as he opens his eyes again, this time to the feeling of warmth pressed against his back and an arm wrapped around his middle. Eddie looks down at the broad palm spread possessively over his belly, a thumb brushing the waistband of his pajama pants. He takes a few calming breaths and orients himself, remembering what happened a few hours ago and why the hell Steve is snuggling him. Again.

With his brain more online than in the middle of the night, Eddie feels a wave of panic wash over him, and he tries to slowly break free of the strong arm around him, but it's no use. As soon as Eddie moves, Steve pulls him closer and even hooks a leg over Eddie. The movement presses Steve's crotch against Eddie's ass and yep. All the rumors he's heard? Absolutely true. Jesus fucking Christ.

It seems that Steve is also a cuddler, a fact that Eddie has not heard any rumors about, but that delights him even more. With a sigh, Eddie accepts his fate. There are worse ways to die than wrapped in Steve's arms.

Feeling warm and safe, Eddie lets sleep take him again.

It is a couple of hours later that he is awakened for the third time to find Steve stirring next to him. Eddie feels Steve gently remove his leg and then his arm from Eddie's waist as he shuffles away, putting some distance between them again. Eddie immediately misses the contact, so he turns to face Steve, who is still lying on his side facing him, eyes closed.

Eddie allows himself to look at him, to take in every line of his beautiful face. And his face is beautiful. He often hears the girls on campus rave about how pretty Steve is, and they're right. He is pretty, with his full lips and his sharp jawline, his features soft and strong, contradictions coming together in a perfect way. But he's also beautiful, his hazel eyes an open book with so much depth poorly hidden behind long lashes and a bitchy attitude. The laugh lines around his mouth and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes when he's smiling really big. The crease between his eyebrows when he's worried, or the way his jaw clenches when he's angry but doesn't want to show it.

"Are you staring at me while I sleep?"

Eddie smiles and lies, "No."

Steve's eyes blink open once to find Eddie looking back at him before closing again, but a small smile tugs at his lips as he says, "You're still here."

Eddie snorts, "I literally couldn't leave.”

Opening his eyes again, Steve's smile turns into a grin. "Like you really wanted to."

Eddie chuckles, ignoring the blush that creeps up his neck and onto his cheeks at being called out. "Hey, you're the one who's a fucking octopus."

"You could've pushed me off."

It's Eddie's turn to grin. "Like you really wanted to."

They both look at each other for a moment, eyes and mouth softening, grins turning to smiles.

[just-ladyme]

a waste of paint

read on ao3

“Just do your middle finger, Stevie, it’ll be, like, punk rock.”

“Right, because he is a beacon to anarchists all over the state of Indiana.” Max rolls her eyes, but Eddie is already tossing a tiny bottle to Steve. He tosses it back without looking at it. 

“You’re being a real spoilsport.” Eddie tsks at him and walks on his knees to sit at Steve’s feet. After a brief tug of war, he’s got Steve’s left hand secured and is using his teeth to unscrew the top of the bottle. 

“Waste of paint, man. I’m just gonna scrub it off.”

Eddie frowns at him smally, a tug down at the corners like he’s Thinking, like maybe he’s gonna shuffle back over to the girls, and Steve changes his mind with a sigh and shoves his hand closer to Eddie. 

El and Max are still over near the coffee table. Max is painting something rich and blue onto El’s fingertips and they’re chatting casually. Steve thinks it’s important they have this, something a little normal. El’s hair has grown out some since spring break, enough that she’s clipped a piece of bright plastic into it to keep it from falling across her face. She gets these headaches sometimes, and Max has glasses to help with her vision and a walking cast still on her left leg, but they’re here and they’re okay and they’re painting their nails. 

By the time he looks back down at Eddie, he’s finished a layer of golden yellow paint and his lips are pursed to blow gently across it. He looks up at him through his lashes and catches Steve looking back and smiles, and every part of Steve’s body is like electric-shock levels of tense.

And look, that’s normal , at least lately, at least for Steve. Normal to have to pull your eyes away from your pal, then look back as he starts painting again, the tip of his tongue poking at the corner of his lips just so in concentration.

All on the up and up, very above the board and even boring, maybe. A normal bodily reaction. Not a big deal. Cool as a cucumber. 

He’s talked to Robin about it - well, he’s talked around it in Robin’s general direction, he hasn’t jumped off the diving board per se, which is fine because there’s nothing weird here. Anyway, he told Robin that he thought Eddie was really cool is what happened if you want to know the exact details, and Robin said ‘Yeah, I think so too!’. So that was like proof that it was normal, you know. Everyone thought Eddie was cool. 

Steve is a liar. He is lying to himself. He does that sometimes, and he’s trying to get better about it, but it’s easier to not understand something than to dig into all the messy feelings. So the nail polish? He could have removed it, he maybe should have, but it’s like a physical something-or-other, and looking at it, or catching it on accident from the corner of his eye, gives him that same electric jolt he gets when he catches Eddie looking at him from across the room, or when he realizes the bell over the Family Video door ringing is actually heralding his loitering presence. 

Anyway, he’s a liar, mostly to himself, mostly for convenience, but this whole nail polish thing is wrecking it, it’s making it harder and harder to lie about it, even in the comfort of his own thoughts. 

He went on a few dates with Marie Thomas the summer before sophomore year, and she was like a vampire. She’d latch onto his throat and chew and it wasn’t like he wasn’t into it, but the real secret thrill was that he’d then catch the little bruises she left on his neck when he passed by the mirror. He hadn’t really thought he should cover it up, didn’t get why it was weird or whatever until Carol noticed on a Monday and started calling him a slut. He’d just liked that it was a physical and visual reminder that he had felt something, that he’d had a connection with another person. He liked pressing his thumb against a bruise and feeling the little bit of pain and he liked the way the purple bled out past the collar of his shirt as it healed. He and Marie didn’t last much into the school year, but he thought about the bruises sometimes. 

So looking at the yellow of the polish on his finger for the next few days and feeling that same thrill, like some kind of weird neon sign that flashed and told him ‘Eddie was kneeling at your feet the other day, remember? He was looking up with big eyes through his bangs and blowing gently on your finger and he was real and it happened’ as if some sort of hot and heavy backseat-at-the-drive-in action happened when it was truly something boring in a room full of people in his mom’s living room? 

It’s almost the same thing, really, and that feeling makes it harder to lie . 

By the time the golden-sunshine-yellow paint is chipping off the tip of his finger, he’s spiraling into a real conundrum of truths. It’s a Wednesday, and he is late to pick up Robin for work because he honestly truthfully spent ten minutes looking at the fresh chip in his paint. He’d been wondering if that was Eddie’s little bottle, if he’d had yellow fingertips like this before, or if this was from the girls’ collection. He’d been wondering if, if he went to the trailer park, Eddie would give him a touch up. If he’d sit at his knees while he did, or if they’d sit across from each other on his bed at the new government trailer, legs crossed and hands held like highschool girls holding a seance. 

It took the phone ringing to shake him out of it, Robin yelling at him for not being there yet. 

So it was toeing into his shoes, snatching his keys off the counter, and speeding to Robin’s and then to open the store. Busy with his body but his brain still whirring around with honest-to-god honesty. He liked Eddie, sure, but he also likes Eddie, the way he’d liked Marie Thomas or Nancy Wheeler or any of the girls he’d gotten handsy with. Pants feelings. 

And, maybe scarier, heart feelings. His terrible idiot of a heart whispers to him about how brave Eddie actually was and how kind he actually was and how good he actually was, how he treated the kids and how he nearly died to save the town that hated him and how he’d carefully held his hand and taken the time to do two coats of paint and to blow across the tip so that the sunny color looked Just Right and smooth even though Steve had (out of his mind, maybe) said he’d just wash it off. Like he’d been painting something special, maybe one of the tiny creatures for his game, instead of an ungrateful little jerk of a guy. 

It all has him itchy, tapping one hand on the counter and staring at the other, the truthy yellow of it all, while Robin complains about the shitty movie she’d chosen to throw on the tv. He knows that she knows that he’s in his head about something, they basically share the same head, and he’s grateful she’s keeping it light and surface level so he can dwell and hiccup over all the sticky stuff. 

The bell over the door rings, and Steve’s head snaps up (with hope, he recognizes the fluttery little wings of it and it’s like a carrier pigeon with a notarized message, the  contents inside enough to make him gulp) and of course it’s Eddie, he’s always around, especially on Wednesdays when the store is at its emptiest. Steve swallows again when he sees him, forces out a ‘Hey, man!’ and holds his hands steady on the counter, palms to the glass.

Eddie looks good, of course he does, eyes and teeth bright and sparkling and his hair backlit by the late morning light so it’s like a halo. He’s fizzy with energy, like he always is, and he comes up to lean against the counter directly across from Steve. Close, like always. In Steve’s personal space, like always .

“Hey yourself, man .” Eddie smiles at him and raps his knuckles against the glass. 

“Thank GOD you’re here, Munson, my brain is leaking out of my ears and Steve has been brooding and just so boring all morning.”

“Unfortunately, my dear Buckley, I’m on a mission today. I’ve gotta go out of town to get something for Wayne’s truck, so I can’t stay. Just wanted to check in with my adoring masses, a tough tour, you know how it is.” He raps again, and Steve’s eyes fall to their hands, Eddie’s rings clacking together and Steve’s sweaty palms pressed into the glass just an inch or so away. “Broody, huh? Run out of your fancy-boy hair gel?” 

Eddie frowns with pomp and drama and tucks his head down to make Steve look into his eyes, and he’s looking through his lashes again, just like when he was painting his nails. It makes him clear his throat, and clear it again, and think about Marie’s bruise on his neck, wonder if Eddie would bruise him like that, if he would rather Steve mark him up, and then he’s looking at the long line of his neck and the way it slides into the curve of his shoulder before it disappears into the stretched-out collar of his once-black shirt. He clears his throat again , and then, as if Eddie can read his mind (God no, please), he looks down at Steve’s hand and taps at the nail polish. 

“You need a touch-up, Stevie, that yellow is just falling apart. It’s called Sun Day, you know, that color. Two words: Sun Day.”

Steve hums at him and looks back at his hands again. Feels the ghost of the little tap he’d touched against his nail. 

“ Anyway , my friends and fellow freaks, I am a little overdue on this old thing.” He struggles into some hidden pocket under the flannel tied around his waist, turning his shoulders enough that Steve feels like whatever spell he’d cast is maybe broken and he can breathe again. 

He presses the plastic case onto the counter with what Steve just knows he thinks is his most winningest grin, but it only works because it’s created this silly stretched-out grimace that Steve finds charming, okay, it’s silly and it’s charming. 

“Fine! Okay, fine, you got it, what fees?” Steve shakes his head at him, one hand finally lifting from the counter to run through his hair and the other finding home on his own hip. He hopes there isn’t some sort of sweaty mark on the counter but he can’t look to check without showing his cards. 

“My everlasting thanks, sweet Stevie.” Eddie bows low and backs up a few steps, turns around as Robin says goodbye, taps the top of the door frame as he leaves and shoots a wink over his shoulder back at Steve. Steve stares too long, raises his hand in a wave after Eddie is already out of sight. 

Robin is snapping up Eddie’s returned VHS to rewind it; you’d think with his friends cutting him so much slack with the rentals he’d be-kind-rewind them at least, but he never does, and the worst part is that Steve doesn’t even care. He’s fully complained to many a customer with his arms crossed pissily about rewinding their spoils, but for some reason Eddie’s disregard is just another Cool Thing about his Cool Guy Persona. 

Something about that’s the final straw. When it crosses his mind, he crosses to the front of the store and flips the closed sign, locks the door, and turns off the display lights. By the time he’s turned around again, hands in his hair and his heart pounding in his throat, Robin is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t seem panicked, but Steve is starting to feel panicked, so he comes around the counter to lean next to Robin and then slides down to sit on the floor. It feels right. It feels even more right when Robin slides down the wall across from him and kicks her scuffed up Converse against his sneaker. 

She’s quiet and watching him with big eyes. It’s uncanny. 

He has a few false starts, big breaths and an open mouth before reeling in whatever he was going to say and snapping his jaw closed again. 

Finally, after minutes of Robin just Looking and Steve floundering and feeling warm, he looks at his painted nail for courage and just spits it out. 

“I like Eddie. Like I think I want to kiss him and hear about his day and touch his butt and stuff.”

“God,” says Robin, “of course you do. Have you seen the two of you dancing around each other? It’s like you pinball from middle school crush to old married couple and back again.”

Steve sputters. “You knew ? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Like that wouldn’t have totally freaked you out. You had to figure it out in your own time.” Steve would bet she thinks she looks wise, but to him she just looks constipated. 

“Well so. So what do I do? What now?” He’s chewing on the skin of his thumb, not the one who is neighbors with the Sun Day, he’s got enough presence of mind for that .

“What do you mean?”

Steve sighs in frustration and then his hands are tugging at his hair again, elbows balanced on his knees. “Is he even. Does he. What if he doesn’t like me back? What if he does ?”

“Breathe, Steve. He definitely likes you, he just thinks you’re straight ‘cause of, you know.” She gestures vaguely at him. 

“So did I.”

“Yeah, uh. Are you, like, freaking out?”

“I… don’t know. It snuck up on me. I just. He painted my fingernail.” Steve flips Robin off to show off the sad and chipped polish. 

“Yeah you showed me. Multiple times.” She has a pretty unimpressed expression on her face for someone who is supposed to be helping him. “ That’s what made you realize you liked his dork ass?”

“I mean, it was a series of things, I guess. I don’t know.” He’s looking at his silly fingernail again. “He’s really good. Like better than anyone maybe.”

Robin is gawking at him. “That’s not how you talk about girls, Steve. You haven’t mentioned his boobies like, at all.”

Steve groans and slides sideways to lay on the floor, sprawled out and looking at the cobwebs fighting to cover the overhead lights. Gross. 

“I’m sure his boobies are lovely, Robs, I just… wanna spend time with him, and listen to his weird stories and his weird music and look at his eyes when he talks about all the things he likes. And. Maybe he’ll like me like that too, you know? Like maybe he’ll feel the same way one day and I’ll be able to look at him and just know .” 

“Ew, you suck, Steve.” But her face when he looks is soft and caring. 

“Should I like. Talk to him? No. I don’t even know if he’s. You know.”

“You won’t know for sure until you talk to him, but I wouldn’t encourage you to talk to him if I didn’t think he was safe. And also like completely obsessed with you. But even if he wasn’t! He’s a good guy and he’s a good friend, you know. He’s not gonna be weird about it.”

“Hmm.”

Robin puts a hand on his knee and shakes it side to side. “Look at us ! You basically said you loved me and I’m still here, and we’re even closer than ever.”

Steve frowns at her, but he knows she’s right. Eddie’s a good guy, that’s the whole point.

“I guess I’m gonna talk to him.” Even saying it out loud to Robin like this makes him nauseous, makes his pulse pound, but she smiles at him in encouragement. 

“Yes! A great idea. You can turn on the old Harrington Charm, maybe-”

A pounding at the closed door and a muffled voice interrupts her. They both scramble to their feet, and Steve sees old Mrs. Burke pressing her face to the door, talking through the glass and shielding her eyes from the glare. 

“Coming!” Robin yells and darts to the door, lets her in and flips everything to open again. 

“You’re supposed to be open!” Mrs. Burke gripes. 

Steve mutters a ‘yeah, yeah’ and lets Robin take over. He’s usually fed to the Mad Old Lady Wolves but Robin loves him and lets him go sit in the breakroom for five minutes while she helps her find whatever romantic comedy she needs so badly. 

That means he gets to sit on the ratty old sofa and stare at the walls and wring his hands because it sure doesn’t feel like it’s as easy as flipping on some sort of charm switch. He’s got indigestion thinking about it, actually. 

And okay, the whole ‘King Steve “the Hair” Harrington, Master of Charm and Suavity’ was… a little bit of a farce, actually. It worked for him, but from an outside perspective, especially lately? Let’s just say it’s a little lackluster. Nancy told him one time, giggling in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings, that the reason he was charming was because he wasn’t charming, just sincere. That was after he successfully(?) charmed her with shotgunning the beer by the pool and before the big breakup, so that means something, right?

When the bell over the door rings again (Steve’s ears are trained to recognize it) he gets to barge out into the main room and say “Robin, do you really think I’m charming or are you joking?”

Luckily there’s no one in the store again, and he just finds Robin between the aisles pausing her restock to look at him with wide eyes. 

“I’m being serious, I’m having a crisis.” he continues when she doesn’t immediately respond. 

“Steve, buddy, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You’re a total dweeb.” It’s delivered with the gravitas of a doctor giving a horrible diagnosis, and it feels that way to Steve. “But!” she continues quickly when his face definitely flashes with the fall and the crash, “I have incredible news for you! I personally mean that as a term of endearment and, maybe even better, everyone you know is a dweeb, and ? Best of all? One Eddie Munson is maybe the biggest dweeb that’s ever existed”

Steve is still frowning. It’s kind of a lot to absorb, that the common perception of yourself is so… unsmooth. 

“You’re very sweet, Steve, and everyone likes you. Well, mostly.” Robin stiffly pats his shoulder. 

“Should I like, buy a leather jacket or something?”

“Steve it’s June. Also I don’t think you need to pull a Sandy Dee. Actually, please don’t. Just, you’ve got your whole… thing… and it’s maybe a little uptight? But it’s your thing ! You don’t wanna change for a person, you know, you’d tell me the same thing.”

“I want him to like me. Suddenly. Very badly.” 

“That’s the nature of a crush, Steve-o. It’s evil.”

“I need to go lay down for a few days. Maybe this’ll blow over, like…” he thinks and snaps his fingers, “temporary insanity.”

“Oh, honey. It’s been a while I guess, what with the world always ending, but I don’t know if you can sleep this kinda thing off. You probably have to talk to him.” 

He stands and stares and thinks while Robin putters around doing menial movie store tasks around him. It’s hard work, standing and staring and thinking, especially when he’s interrupted to take care of customers, so really it takes him the rest of the afternoon and all the way up through quitting time. 

It’s like he blinks and he’s pulling into his driveway, no memory of dropping Robin off. He shakes himself and turns the engine off, stumbles up his steps and through the front doors with legs that feel asleep and a brain that’s still all fogged up. 

It’s not even an Eddie is a boy and this makes him Different kind of freak out; that’s not it at all, he’s somehow leapt straight past that like hurdles in track and is standing facing a brick wall of but he’s Good and maybe you Don’t Deserve This . 

Steve knows he’s a lot, see, and he falls hard and fast, and Eddie is fun and light and not weighed down with all the guilt and anxiety and bullshit Steve’s dealing with; Eddie has his band and his game and his friends and he’s going to community college and working part time at a garage in town and figuring his shit out. Steve is working at Family Video (still), floundering his 20s away with no hopes or dreams or friends older than teens, and he also almost got a significant percentage of them, including Eddie , killed. Very recently, actually. 

Like Eddie is a glowing light and Steve is a cold dark box that puts lights out. Like he’s become his shitty, empty house. 

He’s still standing in his dark entryway, breath kicking up into something that’s sure to be a real doozy of a panic attack, when there’s a firm and rhythmic knock at the front door. He eyes the bat leaning against the wall (in case of emergencies), then flicks on the lights and opens the doors to find Eddie standing there, arms weighed down with bags and a hand raised to knock again. 

“Hey Stevie!” 

“H-hey? Hey, Eddie! What’s, um. What’s going on?” He tries to channel coolness, suavity, leans against the wall next to the open door and doesn’t almost fall. 

Eddie pushes past Steve without being invited in, typical behavior, and slides his wares onto the counter in the kitchen. 

“I brought us a feast.”

“A feast?” Steve’s stomach grumbles, reminds him he skipped breakfast and lunch, only split marked-out snacks with Robin all day. “What’s the occasion?”

“Kinda you are.” Eddie is unloading takeout containers from what smells like some Italian place. 

“I’m… confused.”

“Your birthday!”

“It’s definitely not my birthday, Eddie.”

“No, but we’re celebrating it today because I don’t know when it is.”

“That doesn’t make, like, any sense, man, my birthday was in April.”

“No, that’s perfect! I was probably recovering from the whole near-death then, so. Birthday.” He grins cheesily at him and Steve feels like all of his insides are scrambling to leave his body via a new pathway up his throat. “I hope you like pasta!”

“I love pasta.” Steve manages to mumble, and his feet move him towards Eddie on their own, his eyes snoop on their own, his hands pull out a stool on their own. It’s like he’s haunting his own body. Eddie is mumbling song lyrics and pulling out plates and dishing out pasta and salad like he belongs in his kitchen, like he’s more at home there than Steve has pretty much ever felt, and that combined with his day of Thinking and the snare of the stupid yellow polish on his nail that has him still feeling breathless when he says, watery and all in a jumble: “Eddie I think I really like you. Please don’t make fun of me.” 

He feels the panic on his own face as he just pauses. He didn’t mean to just say that, and now Eddie’s stopped, still as hell and facing away from him, carton of breadsticks lowered to the counter. He tries to school his face (cool, suave) as Eddie slowly, so slowly, turns around and leans against the edge of the counter, as he crosses his arms in front of him, but he just knows he looks like he’s seen a ghost or like he’s on fire because he still kinda feels that way. 

“You okay Stevie? You look a little. Well, you look a little freaked out.”

“I just, ah. I just mean.” He sinks fully into the stool, grateful it has a back to catch him because otherwise he’d end up on the floor for sure. His knees are basically on strike. He’s so warm. He keeps clearing his throat. 

Eddie is still looking at him with worry making the line between his brows creep below his bangs. He turns again to run some water into a glass and slide it across the island to Steve, who grabs it and makes himself sip mostly for something to do with his hands. But now Eddie is leaning across the whole island, pushed up onto his toes for sure, pushing into Steve’s space just enough that he knows he’s blushing. It makes him feel ridiculous because this is just Eddie, his friend, one of his best friends. Eddie who, god bless him, has never had a firm grasp on personal space and it’s never really been an issue before right exactly now.

Steve’s talking into the glass and avoiding Eddie’s eyes when he says, “I mean. It’s. I don’t think. I just. You don’t have to say anything. I’m, like, working through something.”

“Hmm. Did you mean it, Steve?”

Steve gulps again. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, I mean. I do. Like you. Like more than a normal amount. And it’s okay if you don’t, and I’m sorry if that’s not…”

“Stevie, breathe.” 

Steve can hear the chuckle in his voice and it finally makes him look up, which was a terrible idea, actually, because now he’s stuck again, caught on looking into Eddie’s stupid beautiful eyes as he laughs at him. “Please don’t laugh at me. This is. A lot.” Steve feels small and tiny and miniscule and he wants to go hide under the covers like when he was a kid and his parents were yelling. 

“Sweetheart. I am not laughing at you.” Eddie’s voice is firm through the grin that’s still there, and he reaches out slowly like Steve is a startled horse and lightly - lightly - touches the side of his face. It’s like walking through a spider web in the park if the spider web was cotton candy instead. “Oh my god. Steve Harrington, you’re such a dweeb.”

“That’s what they say.”

Slowly, to keep from startling him any more, he’s sure, Eddie leans further across the island, hand still on Steve’s face, and presses a gentle, feather-soft kiss against his lips. It’s nothing, really, not even close to the kinds of kisses that led to hands or bruises, but it’s like fireworks catching on all his nerves and he can feel all his hair stand up. It’s like superpowers and swimming and drowning, and he knows a little about all that. 

Before he can get his brain on the same channel, Eddie is pulling away with a soft pat to Steve’s cheek. Steve makes a very sad noise at the back of his throat and he knows he’s pouting but Eddie has turned away already, is humming again and grabbing plates and saying “Let’s eat some pasta, babe. I’m starving.”

He watches as Eddie grabs plates, balances a box of breadsticks on an arm, asks him to grab the Cokes. Steve grabs the bottles on autopilot, cracks the caps open on the counter the way his mother would kill him for, and follows Eddie into the living room where he’s seated on the sofa, plate in his lap and pasta in his mouth. 

He’s got a numb almost-feeling as he clinks a Coke down in front of Eddie and takes his plate, sits stiffly. His brain is sloshing around as he eats his spaghetti. 

“How are you normal?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over his Coke bottle. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

“I just mean. I guess I don’t know what to think. Usually people say something when you say you, well. Say you have feelings for them. Or…”

Eddie puts all his things down on the coffee table, no coasters, and curls his legs up onto the couch. 

“Stevie, I’m sittin’ right here with you. You don’t have to say or do anything, you know? I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. We can eat dinner, we can talk about it.” He shrugs a shoulder, totally not bothered.

They’re words, just words, and they shouldn’t strike him so hard, but his face feels warm and he still feels like his brain is spinning around, like he’s at sea. Eddie frowns at him. He seems to see how lost he is suddenly because in the next breath he’s taking everything away from Steve to put it next to his own stuff. He grabs his hands and tells him to breathe. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“You are freaking out. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m just.”

“It’s okay not to be fine. I think you’ve given this all a little more thought than I thought.”

“I’m serious, I was serious. I even told Robin. I think I, well, I know… I like you a lot. Like in a way I don’t usually like guys.”

“Oh. Wow.” Eddie is looking at him, and now he looks like he’s seen a ghost. Hands gripped, seance-style. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie, Stevie, I kinda thought you were just trying to say I was your… pal.”

“So you kissed me on the lips.”

“Pals kiss! And okay, cards on the table I guess, I know I feel a certain way about you , that’s not news to me. I wanted to do that for years, since even before you saved my life. I just don’t exactly expect any kind of… reciprocity.”

“Like?”

“Like you’re not gonna look at me and see me the way I see you .” By the end of the sentence his voice has fallen to a whisper.

And, well. Now Eddie is looking away and blushing and Steve feels a little more balanced, feels like this is something he can participate in. Not so much confidence, but familiarity, a comfortable sweater. “It depends how you see me, I guess, but I’m a little obsessed with you.” 

Eddie lets out a loud laugh in surprise and tries to pull his hands back but Steve flips them around so he’s grabbing Eddie’s hands and keeping them safe. It’s like holding small birds.

“No, stop. I mean it.” He’s picking up steam, pulling out the things he was turning over in his head all day. He mirrors Eddie, knees touching knees. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Robin’s tired of hearing about it. Being around you is easy, you make things easy, like it gets quiet even though you’re loud as hell.”

“Shut up, man.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not like, joking with me right? Because that happened sometimes in the hallowed halls of Hawkins High and gotta tell ya, not a fan. I’m not a good fighter and I like you too much to wanna hit you but I would be very sad , and-”

“Eddie, it’s not a joke.”

“-like, I just wanted to bring you dinner because it looked like you were having a bad day and we all know how that goes, and this is all feeling very weird actually-”

“You were so cool a minute ago, it made me think I was losing it-”

“-maybe I got into a horrible car accident and died and this is like the last firing of my synapses or whatever.”

“-but this is actually more of an Eddie response. Is this okay?” Steve is ecstatic, actually, this is going so well, way better than he thought, and he can feel the smile on his face as he reels Eddie in closer to him, as he plans to redo that kiss in the kitchen. 

“God, yes.” Eddie laughs, and then he shuts up as Steve presses his lips against his. 

And okay, it’s more teeth than it should be, what with all the smiling, and it’s a little garlicky from the pasta, but it’s Good in the way that all first kisses are but it’s Better because it’s with Eddie. 

By the time they get back to their pasta it’s cold but they’re still smiling and the little worried line between Eddie’s brows is gone completely. 

They’re laughing as they eat, and they’re laughing as they clean up, and they’re laughing as Steve stops Eddie at the door to pull him into another kiss, and it’s easy . 

When he goes to bed that night, he runs his thumb over the chipped yellow polish in the dark and he thinks wow, Robin was right , and he thinks oh no, Robin is going to be so annoying , but he falls asleep with a smile anyway. He has incredible dreams for a change, dreams where everything is all Sun Day Golden Yellow and cotton-candy-sweet and he has this dork of a guy next to him holding his hand.

It’s all pretty punk rock. 

-----

i have been on several work trips and am in the process of moving so i have been s l a c k i n g, esp here and on my longer fics, but i haven't abandoned them! This is an older short lil story i edited and posted when i couldn't sleep

xoxo

[just-ladyme]

Eddie making Steve laugh to the point of Steve revealing that he’s actually a snort laugher and Eddie lighting up like all his christmases have come at once

[just-ladyme]

"ronance may not have interacted much but the writers DID [...] accidentally make robin nancy’s 'type' (intelligent but slightly weird social outcast kid with a heart of gold a la jonathan byers)" [x]

i saw this and couldn't get it out of my head, ty gayeddiemunson 🫡

[just-ladyme]

Shelter in Place (pt.1 of 2)

a Steddie fic

Written for @thefreakandthehair - Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge! My prompt was : Hurricane

Rating: E (smut in pt. 2)

Summary:

When a major Hurricane is projected to hit Hawkins (technically it’s more like the remnants of a hurricane, but the residents of Hawkins don’t really know the difference or care), Dustin is worried about his new friend and DM, Eddie Munson, who lives in a trailer, a structure not known for its resilience against severe weather. He invites the older boy to ride the storm out with him and his mom at home, unaware that she has made arrangements for them to stay with family that live far away from the storm's trajectory. Dustin doesn’t want to leave his friend high and dry, enter everyone’s favorite babysitter: Steve Harrington.

Notes: Yes, there really was a hurricane called Bob in 1979. Not Robert. BOB. (followed closely by tropical storm Claudette, both made at least some sort of appearance in or near indiana.)

I had to do a quick google search to make sure hurricanes even happened in that area of the country. They do, sort of, but only like every 7-10 years. I live in a coastal town and we get at least one hurricane a year and it just did not occur to me that this is not a thing in some places🙈.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Steve was nearing the end of his shift at family video, alone because Robin could only work part time during the school year, when Dustin called.

He sighed into the telephone, leaning heavily on the counter as he listened to the kid prattle on at 100 miles an hour about some kind of emergency . Steve had panicked for a second, until Dustin explained that it wasn’t a code-red emergency, just a regular mundane one. He could have cried in relief. It’d only been a little over two months since their last run-in with the Upside-Down, and if he was honest with himself, he still wasn’t 100% back to normal from Starcourt yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.

Dustin proceeded to go on and on about his new best friend and fellow D&D nerd, Eddie, and Steve tried to listen, he really did, but he had no idea what the hell any of it had to do with him. Then Henderson finally dropped the bomb.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you really asking me to spend the Hurricane babysitting Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?” Steve sputtered.

“It’s not babysitting, he’s older than you!”

“He is still in high school though.” Steve smugly pointed out.

“Don’t be an asshole, not everyone is good at school.”

Ok, that was..fair, but Steve still didn’t feel like getting roped into this. “Why can’t he stay at your house again?”

“Were you even listening?” Dustin scoffed. “My mom got too nervous, something about a tree falling on the house back in ‘79. She wants us to evacuate and stay with family for a day or two. I already offered Eddie someplace to go, I can’t take it back now! C’mon Steve, the trailer park isn’t safe, that's why Max and her mom are staying at Lucas’, remember?”

Steve tapped the receiver against his forehead and counted to five. This kid and his fucking tone. “He really doesn’t have anywhere else to go?” 

He was sure Eddie didn’t like him either, there's no way the guy wanted to be stuck with him alone, for god knew how long, anymore than Steve did.

“No, and please don't tell him I said anything, and don’t laugh, but I think he’s kind of freaked out about the storm.”

Steve softened, in all honesty he was too. “I wouldn’t laugh about something like that, Henderson. I'm not a total dick.”

Steve was 12 when Hurricane Bob made landfall in Hawkins, the first major storm he had ever seen. Being so far from any coast, It wasn’t common for Indiana to experience tropical storms. Typically, they only had to deal with minor bad weather from the remnants of them as they dissipated . He had ridden it out alone, having finally hit the age where his mother deemed him old enough not to need a babysitter overnight, unless she and his father planned to be gone for longer than a weekend. He told himself they would have come home to be with him if only the flights hadn’t been grounded. He knows better now, and even back then, he hadn’t truly believed it. 

He'd been prepared to go through this event in much the same way, except now he was grown and could drink himself through the nerves, and the boredom of a power outage, if he wanted to. He would prefer to have company, but the kids needed to be home with their families, Robin was out of town, and Nancy… wasn’t an option. They were fine with each other when the shit hit the fan and all, but they weren't exactly friends. Besides, she was still with Jonathan, even if he was 2,000 miles away with his mom, brother and El. It would just be awkward. 

“So, can he stay with you?” Dustin asked again, bringing Steve back to the present. All of the kid’s cocky tone and kidding was gone for the moment. He really was worried about his friend, Steve realized.

“Does he even know it’s my house you're inviting him to? I wasn't exactly a nice guy for most of high school.” Steve was breaking. He would cave. He knew it. 

“I'm sure it’ll be fine, we talk about you at Hellfire all the time and he's never said anything. Just give him a chance. Who knows, maybe you’ll come out of this with a friend who’s actually your own age.”

“Hey, I have Robin!” Steve protested.

“You need more than one friend, Steve. I’m gonna call Eddie and tell him the good news. Is it okay if he comes right over?”

He still hadn’t exactly said yes, but they both knew he would.

“Yea.. that’s fine. I get off work in fifteen minutes”

-

Steve had only just gotten home himself when the doorbell rang. Here we go , he thought.

“You don’t have to do this y’know.” Eddie grumbled the moment the door opened. Somehow making it sound like he’s the one being put out. 

Steve groaned internally, cursing Dustin for volunteering him and his house for this. He wanted to agree with the guy, would be happy to slam the door in his face even, but Dustin would be pissed if he didn’t at least try to play nice. 

“Come on in, Munson. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”

Eddie followed him wordlessly through the foyer and up the stairs, eyes darting around nervously the whole way. He looked so out of place in Steve’s boring upper middle class house, all ripped black jeans, rings glinting on every finger, and a leather jacket. He stood out, demanded to be noticed, just like he always had in school.

Steve showed him the guest room and pointed out the main bathroom down the hall, before ducking into his own room for a sorely needed after work shower. Apart from his gruff greeting, Munson seemed a little more subdued than he had been expecting. He supposed it was a lot, not only the nerves about the impending storm, but being in a strange house with someone he barely knew. He should really take it easy on the guy.

-

Not long after he’d shut the water off and ran a towel over his sopping hair, there was a knock on Steve’s bedroom door. What could Eddie possibly need already? Couldn’t it wait until he got dressed? He huffed, tying the towel securely across his hips and threw open the door.

Eddie stood in the hall with his arms crossed defensively over his chest, still looking back towards the end of the hall as he spoke.

“I know you’ve led a pretty privileged life here, Harrington, but there's things you’re supposed to do to prepare for a hurricane y’know. Meaning you do them before the bad weather hits. I don’t see a single flashlight, or bucket and…”

He turned mid sentence, trailing off as he finally caught sight of Steve standing in the doorway, dripping wet and in nothing but a towel. Eddie turned bright red and quickly looked away, mumbling apologies. It was ridiculous, Steve thought, it was no different than the locker room at school. Guys saw each other in just a towel all the time, sometimes less. Maybe Eddie was shy or something. 

“Give me a few minutes to get some clothes on and we’ll sort it out.” Steve muttered.

Eddie nodded too fast, and too many times. Steve shook his head, backing up to close the door. He may have shut it a little on the harder side, not quite slamming it the way he wanted to, but it was loud enough to signal his annoyance. 

As Steve descended the stairs ten minutes later, he remembered what Dustin said, and his own thoughts about Eddie’s predicament. He found the other boy in the kitchen, rooting through the fridge and decided to let it go, and approach the situation with as much kindness as he could muster. 

He plastered on his brightest customer service smile. “Alright, so tell me about this preparation you want to do.”

Eddie did not extend the same courtesy, and gave him nothing but bitchy side-eye in return. 

“You should know this stuff, Harrington, it’s survival 101. Basic shit!”

Steve looked skyward, praying for patience. “Okay, we’ve established that I'm an idiot. Why don’t we move on from that for now, and you just tell me what we should be doing?” He was proud of himself for saying it very evenly, and with hopefully no indication of how irritated he truly was.

Eddie hummed, considering him for a moment. “Fine.” 

He grabbed Steve by the wrist and pulled him towards the back door, pointing through the glass. “All that shit out there? The chairs, the table, the goddamned potted plants? Projectiles, all of them. They need to get put away in a shed or secured or something.”

Steve blinked.

That. 

That made perfect sense. 

Maybe he was an idiot. He hadn’t even thought about it. All he had done in anticipation of the storm was to stock the fridge with beer. Eddie seemed to see Steve come to the realization, and his frosty demeanor thawed slightly.

“Why don’t you take care of the outside and I'll start filling the bathtubs with water. Do you have any buckets?” 

“In the garage, under the workbench. What’s that for?” He was genuinely curious now.

“If the power goes out, so does your water pump.” Eddie began, matter-of-factly. “You fill the bathtubs so you have some water to wash with and flush toilets. That’s what the buckets are for, easiest way to top up the toilet tank. Speaking of water, we’ll want to fill some pitchers or something from the sink too, for drinking or cooking.”

“Okay. Thanks, um, for explaining all of that.”

Eddie gave him a thin-lipped smile and curt nod before setting off to start his tasks. 

-

They did have a shed, which was mostly empty, Steve came to find. It didn’t take him long to put every loose item from around the outside of the house away. Clouds started rolling in as he finished up, and there was a bit of wind stirring, but nothing crazy yet. Satisfied that he’d done an adequate enough job, he went back in to see how Eddie was making out. 

Steve had to give it to the guy, he was not shy. The kitchen looked ransacked. Every drawer and cabinet was wide open. The countertops were littered with random candles of every shape and size, lighters, a few books of matches, batteries, two flashlights, and several large plastic containers which Eddie was already in the process of filling with water and placing in the freezer. 

He stared wide-eyed at the display, a little in awe of it. He wasn’t used to being ready for the bad things. Usually disaster struck first, and then Steve scrambled to keep everyone safe. He liked the idea that, at least in this particular scenario, there was something he could do to prevent problems instead of struggling to solve them later. 

Eddie finally noticed him and followed his line of sight around the room. He grimaced, looking bashful for the first time. “Sorry, I just..”

“It’s fine, really. Thank you for doing all this.” Steve said, wearing his true smile for the first time. He walked around the room, closing the various doors as he contemplated what to make for dinner. Eddie’s eyes tracked him the whole time, like he was waiting for Steve to snap at him.

He pretended not to notice and dug into the fridge. The decision about food was made easy when he noticed the steaks he had taken out to thaw sitting on a shelf. He’d been too tired to cook after his shift the night before, opting instead to shove a handful of pretzels into his mouth and collapse in front of the T.V.

Steve took the plate of meat out and set it on the counter along with two beers. He popped the tops off the bottles and handed one to Eddie who accepted it with a blank stare.

He pulled the big cast iron pan off the rack and placed it on a burner to start heating up while he gathered the rest of his ingredients. He lined up the butter and herbs to the side, so they’d be ready when he was. There were still a few pre-cooked potatoes left over from earlier in the week, so he got those out as well and started a second pan on the stove to warm them up. He didn’t feel like fussing with a vegetable so…

“Okay, what the fuck is happening right now?!” Eddie snapped, interrupting Steve’s train of thought.

“Hmm?” Steve hummed, beer bottle pressed against his lips.

Eddie gestured in his general direction, as if it was obvious.

“Um, cooking? Shit, do you not eat red meat? I should have asked, I can figure something else out if..”

“Cut the crap, Harrington!” Eddie shouted. “I bossed you around, made a huge mess in your kitchen, hell, I've been outright rude to you since the moment I walked through the door and you haven't said jack about it! You thanked me, twice! What gives? Why are you being so nice? You’re supposed to be an asshole!”

“Oh. I’m not.. I mean, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Even if that were true, like I said, I know I've been a dick. You’d be well within the rules of polite society, or whatever the fuck, to call me out on it.”

“Honestly, man, I know you’re in kind of a weird situation being here, and I was just trying to give you a break.”

“Oh.” 

Eddie was quiet and still for a long moment before abruptly upending his beer, drinking it all in one go before immediately swapping it for a full one. 

Steve snorted. “You okay?”

“Fine, just, y’know, having my entire world view turned upside down. Not something I wanna deal with sober.”

Steve laughed a little harder than the situation probably deserved, but Eddie had, albeit inadvertently, made the most ironic choice of words. If the guy only knew.

Eddie pulled himself up to sit on the counter, watching intently as Steve tossed their steaks into the now screaming hot pan. 

“Where'd you learn to cook?”  Eddie asked. The, be cause didn’t your rich-boy mommy always cook for you , went unsaid. The other boy’s version of being nice, Steve assumed.

“Trial and error mostly, and don’t tell anyone, but I watch a lot of Julia Child reruns.” Steve grinned and threw a wink over his shoulder.

Eddie sucked in a small breath and his cheeks turned the most adorable shade of pink. It reminded Steve of how the girls at school used to look when he’d flirt, before he’d lost his touch anyway. Wait, why was he thinking the word adorable in the same sentence as Eddie Munson? 

Steve shook himself and turned his attention back to the stove, concentrating on not overcooking anything, instead of trying to figure out why he was suddenly so nervous.

-

As they sat at the dining table and ate together, Steve kept having the strangest feeling that this was a little like a first date. He didn’t know what was wrong with him today. This was Eddie Munson, he barely knew the guy, and they did not like each other. Except, maybe now they were getting over that? Also, Eddie was a guy, and although Robin coming out to him earlier this summer had opened his eyes more to the possibility that some people weren’t straight, he just didn’t see that for himself. 

“So, how did King Steve wind up tethered to a gaggle of middle schoolers anyway?”

“Former King.” Steve corrected, but not unkindly. “Babysitting, sort of. Not that they need that anymore but, yeah.”

“Why’d you stick around?”

Steve shrugged “They’re good kids. Dustin’s like a little brother to me.”

Eddie chuckled. “I get that. There’s just something about him that makes you want to take care of him.”

“I know right!? It’s the eyes or something, like he’s a lost puppy.”

“Oh he would hate that comparison. You’re not wrong though.” Eddie agreed, pointing at Steve with his fork.

“How are they handling being freshman? I remember it being rough even for me and I wasn't..” Steve cut himself off, realizing too late that he was about to put his foot in his mouth.

“A nerd?” Eddie finished for him with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harrington, we know what we are.” Eddie grinned. “I think your boys are doing alright, for what it’s worth I'm keeping an eye on them.”

Steve smiled, it was worth a lot actually. The more he got to know Eddie, the gladder he was that the kids had found him. 

“You said boys, does that mean Lucas wasn’t able to get Max to join your game?” Steve asked.

“Is that the angry red-head he’s always pining over?”

“That would be the one.”

Eddie frowned. “No, she’s not in Hellfire, but she is my neighbor. Is Max one of your kids too?”

“Not that she’d ever admit it but, yea. She’s had a rough couple months. You remember Billy Hargrove?”

“Of course I remember that cocky prick. Not to speak ill of the dead or anything. why?”

“He was Max’s step brother.” Steve explained. “They didn’t like each other much, so it’s complicated, but I’ve been worried about her.”

“Damn. That’s tough. I’ll see what I can do to look out for her around the trailer park.”

“Thanks.”

-

By the time they finished up dinner it had started raining, and the wind was really picking up speed. Steve could feel himself getting tense. It didn’t matter that he had faced far scarier things than this, he still had to keep reminding himself that it would be okay. He was an adult now and he wasn’t alone.

He was pretty sure Eddie was having some of the same anxiety and was just trying to hide it. What they needed was a distraction. They might as well make use of the electricity while they still had it. 

“I brought a few movies home from work, they’re in a bag by the front door. You wanna pick something and I'll grab a couple more beers?” Steve asked, as he cleared their plates. 

Eddie groaned. “Fine, but there’d better be something besides Fast Times or The Breakfast Club.”

“Okay first of all, The Breakfast Club just came out on tape, it’ll be weeks before I can get my hands on it, and what’s wrong with Fast Times?! It’s a classic!”

Eddie just shook his head and went off in search of the bag. 

They met back up in the living room a few minutes later. Eddie was pulling videos out of the bag, a stunned look on his face. 

“Okay, I can admit that maybe you don’t have completely abysmal taste in movies. I mean, Footloose isn’t exactly my thing, but who can resist Kevin Bacon? And all three Star Wars? Steve, you're practically begging me to have a marathon and I can't resist.”

“I’ve actually only seen the one, but I liked it a lot.” Steve admitted. “Dustin’s been on me to watch them all, so I figured this was as good a time as any, at least until the power goes out.”

“It pains me to ask, but which one have you seen? Please don’t say..”

“The one with the teddy bears!” Steve said gleefully, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Eddie raked a hand over his face. “Forget everything I said before, you are the absolute worst.”

Steve tossed a pillow at him. Eddie fell dramatically off the couch and the two of them burst into giggles like children. A warmth started to grow in Steve’s chest. Maybe Dustin was right, maybe he would come out of this with a friend. 

They made it through the first movie and another six pack before Steve called for a break. The storm was now fully raging outside, the wind strong enough to rattle the windows and the T.V. was no longer providing enough distraction. Eddie agreed and started looking through the board games hidden in a cabinet next to the entertainment center. 

“This is the one!” Eddie exclaimed triumphantly, returning to the couch with his choice.

“Battleship?” Steve questioned.

“What’s wrong with Battleship?!”

“Nothing at all. I was expecting you to make me play scrabble or something I would be equally terrible at.”

Eddie beamed. “This is way more fun, especially if you provide your own sound effects.”

They took a few minutes to place their boats. True to form, Eddie made a big show out of ensuring that Steve didn’t peek, placing a half folded checkerboard on the table between them as a privacy screen. Although Steve was pretty sure he only did it to make him laugh. 

After a few misses (both of them), and a hit (Steve), Eddie became unusually quiet. Since they had broken the ice in the kitchen, he had been keeping up a pretty regular stream of chatter, even during the movie, peppering in fun facts and trivia. Which, come to think of it, usually bothers Steve when Dustin does it, but for some reason with Eddie he didn’t seem to mind.

He was about to ask if anything was wrong, when Eddie finally spoke up.

“Hey, um, I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here. Sorry, I should have said that hours ago, but I was too busy being a jerk.”

“It’s fine. You had every reason to think I was still the same asshole I used to be.”

“It’s not that, well, it was a little bit that, but also - I don’t know if you remember ‘79? I had just moved here to live with my uncle Wayne not long before, and he got stuck at work when the storm hit. He couldn’t even call to tell me what was going on because the phone lines were knocked out almost right away. I know it was scary for a lot of people but being in a shitty fragile trailer for it, and all alone, as a kid? It was fucking terrifying. So, thanks.”

Steve felt his eyes well up a bit, imagining little 13 year old Eddie all the way across town from 12 year old Steve, completely unknown to each other, but sharing such a similar experience nonetheless. Without thinking, he placed his hand over Eddie’s where it sat on the table, and squeezed. 

“I remember. My parents were away then too, like they are now. The wind was so loud, sometimes it would whistle through the attic. I remember thinking it sounded like there were ghosts having a party up there. I hid in my closet with a toy flashlight the whole night. Believe me when I say, I'm glad you’re here.”

It was Steve’s turn to blush for once when he realized their hands were still touching. He took his hand back slowly and cleared his throat.  Eddie did the same, hands twisting together to play with his rings.

“I think that’s why I was so intense earlier. When Wayne finally got home and saw how freaked out I was, he took the time to explain what to do if it ever happened again. I guess I really latched onto that lesson.”

Thunder cracked suddenly and loudly in the distance, making both of them jump, and breaking whatever somber spell had fallen over them with a fit of nervous laughter.

For over an hour they went round after round, as the rain continued to beat against the windows, and Steve couldn’t believe how much fun he was having playing a dumb kids game. While they did, Eddie told him about how he’d met the boys on the first day of school. How he’d noticed Dustin first, because of his Weird Al t-shirt, the one Steve had tried to talk him out of but the kid insisted was cool. The way he knew instantly that he would be taking him and the others under his wing. 

Steve shared too, though he had to skirt the truth quite a bit. He talked about showing up at Nancy’s with flowers ready to apologize for something he didn’t even do, when he got cut off by Dustin and roped into looking for his missing cat. 

“It was all downhill from there. Suddenly I'm chauffeuring 6 kids to the arcade every Saturday and giving hair tips before the snow ball dance.”

“No shit? That kid really must be something if ‘the hair’ was willing to give up his secrets.”

One minute they were laughing and sharing a smile over the game board, and the next, the lights blinked, sending Steve hurtling straight back to that night in the Byers living room, the first time he’d been forced to fight for his life. 

Steve froze, unable to reconcile the reality in front of him and his memories for a brief moment. The lights flickered a few more times and he snapped back to the present, rushing, not to the kitchen where all the candles and flashlights were (where Eddie went), but to the front door where he kept his nail bat hidden in an umbrella stand. He made it back to the living room, heart pounding and breath coming in short gasps, at the same time Eddie did. The other boy’s arms were full of candles and the two flashlights. Their eyes met across the small space for only a second before the lights finally went out for good.

-

The next thing Steve was aware of was Eddie’s voice trying to talk him down from what he slowly realized was a panic attack.

“You need to relax, Steve, you're hyperventilating. Take a deep breath. Come on, breathe with me slow, in and out.” Eddie spoke from a few feet away, hands out in front of him, as if he felt the need to show they were empty. Steve didn’t understand, but he did his best to follow the directions, finding it difficult to stay focused.

Eddie’s gaze kept flicking from Steve’s face to his right hand, and back again. He looked worried. Steve didn’t like that, he preferred it when the other boy smiled at him. He followed the path of Eddie's eyes when he could, and finally realized the problem.

He dropped the bat instantly and stepped away from it, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he once again tried to breathe normally. 

Eddie approached then, using gentle hands to guide Steve back to the couch. He must have finally felt safe now that Steve had dropped his literal weapon!! Oh god, what the fuck had he been thinking? The more he leveled out the more embarrassed he felt. How was he ever going to explain this? Eddie must think he’s a total psychopath now.

The room around them glowed with the light of a dozen or more candles. When had Eddie managed that? Steve couldn’t remember.

When he finally caught his breath and the shaking in his body had subsided, Steve dropped his head into his hands. Everything was fine, everyone was fine. He shoved down the need to race upstairs and find the walkie talkie Dustin had given him.

“Mind telling me what that was all about?” Eddie finally asked.

“Nothing!” Steve snapped, immediately regretting it.

“See, Harrington, here’s the thing. People don’t usually react that way to lights blinking and shit. Normally, I'd let the lie go, because we don’t exactly know each other that well, but, explain to me why I saw Dustin, Mike, and Lucas react almost the same goddamn way when the lights were on the fritz at the school last week? Those three were so on edge that day, I thought they were gonna piss themselves when their characters stumbled across a demogorgon.”

At the mention of the monster he had just been thinking about, Steve snapped his head up to look at Eddie. He expected to find annoyance, or even anger on the other boy’s face, but all he saw was concern. Steve hadn’t known about the incident at school, none of the kids told him. He assumed they were coping better than he was, that maybe because they were so young they were able to bounce back, but it sounds like they have all just been pretending too.

He didn’t realize he was crying silent tears until Eddie laid a hand on his shoulder. At the contact, the dam broke, and a sob was torn from Steve's chest. He felt, more than saw, Eddie's arms wrap around him, holding him tight, and sagged into the embrace. He’s only ever let it all out like this with Robin, and that was different. She’d been there with him in the trenches, at least this last time. She understood. Eddie didn’t even know him before today, not really, but still he was there and really seemed to care. Steve wasn’t used to that.

“What happened to all of you?” Eddie asked, whispering the question into his hair. 

Even if he wanted to, Steve couldn't tell him. They signed paperwork, threats were made. Though, did he really need to be worried about that still? The lab didn’t have much of a presence in Hawkins anymore, and after Joyce blew up the gate at Starcourt, it seemed like this whole Upside-Down mess might finally be done for good. 

Steve realized with a start that he’s trying to talk himself into it, he wants to tell Eddie, but he’s so scared. It’s not even about the NDA’s anymore, but about opening himself up to another person and being rejected for it. He doesn’t know why he's comparing this tentative friendship with Eddie to when he dated Nancy. It’s not the same, of course it’s not, but still, he remembers how refusing to talk about what happened, how pretending everything was okay, was a big part of what ruined their relationship, and he doesn’t want that to happen here. Still, he hesitated.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it.” Steve answered, pulling back from the hug, though he didn’t really want to.

“You may not know this about me, Harrington, but I'm pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“I think, I would actually really like to talk about it if I could. The only people I have now are the kids, but it feels wrong to burden them with that. I mean, I have Robin but..”

“Buckley too?”

“Yea.” 

“Is that why you two are attached at the hip all of the sudden? Some kind of trauma bond?”

Steve nodded, keeping his mouth firmly closed. It was taking everything he had not to spill his guts when he looked into the other boy’s deep brown eyes. How was Eddie having this effect on him? 

Eddie considered him for a long time before finally nodding to himself and blowing out a long breath. “I can’t believe I'm going to offer this, but what if I tell you something of mine, one of my secrets, first. Then you’ll have leverage or whatever, to prove I won't tell anyone what you tell me?”

Honestly, Steve was more concerned about Eddie not believing him than about him blabbing, but it’s too good an offer to refuse, and now he’s desperate to know what Eddie's secret is.

“Ok.”

“Now, I’m only telling you this because if you are as close to Buckley as I think you are, you’ll be cool with it. But if it's not.. cool, please just dont tell anyone, ok? You can kick me out or whatever, but I'm not really looking to get murdered before my 21st birthday." Eddie looked nervous suddenly, and it filled Steve with guilt. He should stop him, tell him he doesn’t have to say this, whatever it is.

“I’m gay.” Eddie tossed it out there and very clearly seemed to be bracing himself for the worst.

Steve gaped at first, but pulled himself together quickly, folding his arms around Eddie the same way he had just done for him. “That’s…really great, man. Thank you for telling me.”

Eddie relaxed in his hold, and Steve decided he wouldn't let go first.

Eventually, Eddie pulled back with a smirk. “So, it's great, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he knew if there was more light in the room Eddie would be able to see that he was blushing furiously. 

“I can’t believe you told me that just to make me feel comfortable sharing. I don’t know what to say.” Steve admitted.

Eddie shrugged. “I figured it was a big enough thing that you would accept it in return for telling me what your deal is. Besides, I was pretty sure I could trust you.”

“You can.” Steve quickly assured him. 

“So, tell me.”

Steve’s stomach dropped. He’d never given the whole spiel alone before, or really at all. After her baptism by fire, he’d slowly told Robin about their previous battles in bits and pieces, whenever they shared a sleepless night, and even then, Dustin had come along later and filled in some of the gaps.

“You might not believe me.” It probably sounded like bullshit, or like he was trying to get out of their agreement, but Steve had to say it.

Eddie was not deterred. “Try me.”

There’s nowhere to start but the beginning, Steve thought, and took a deep breath.

“Do you remember when Will Byers went missing a couple years ago?”

“Of course. The boys talk about him almost as much as they talk about you. He moved to California right?”

“Yeah. We’ll get to that, but there's a lot to cover before that part of the story.”

Eddie leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable and waving a hand to encourage Steve to carry on. 

He began in fits and starts, and confused the timeline at least once when he described the events of 1983, but the longer he spoke the easier it came. Eddie was attentive, but didn’t ask any questions, and didn't interrupt until he mentioned the fight with Billy Hargrove when he defended Lucas, and even then he only gasped. Eddie patiently let Steve get his story out however he needed to. When he got to Starcourt, and the torture he endured at the hands of the Russians, he heard Eddie sniffle and looked up to see tears shining in the other boy’s eyes. Eddie reached out for Steve's hand, and didn't let go.

“El took it really hard. Hopper had really just become her dad and then she lost him. Joyce took her in and moved the four of them to California for a fresh start. It’s hard to have them so far away, for the kids especially, but I know Nancy misses Jonathan too. I don’t blame her though, Joyce, she's doing what she can to protect her kids and I can respect that. At this point, I'm just trying to figure out how to live again, for the third time, now that it’s all over.”

When Steve was finally done, Eddie still remained silent. It made him squirm, desperate to know what he was thinking.

“So, on a scale of 1-10, how much of that did you believe?” Steve asked when he couldn't take it anymore.

“Every word.” Eddie said, sounding completely serious.

“What?!”

Eddie turned more fully to face him and took Steve’s other hand, now holding both of them, in both of his. “Steve, you’re traumatized enough that I would have probably believed if for that alone, but honestly the dead give away was the detail. No offense, but I don't believe you are creative enough to have made all of that up, and all the D&D references? There's no way you know that much about the game. No way.”

Steve cracked a smile. “Oh yeah? Is that all?”

Eddie returned the smile but his eyes looked sad. “I remember all those times you got your pretty face bashed in, Harrington. This.. explanation, almost makes more sense than the rumors. Jesus, you’re still carrying some evidence of what was apparently Russian fucking torture. I..”

Steve surged forward abruptly, barreling into him. “Thank you for believing me.”

Eddie laughed, and they were pressed so close together that Steve could feel the low rumble of it in his chest. It made him shiver. 

“Henderson is going to be so pissed that I told you.” Steve joked.

“He doesn't have to know that you told me. I was serious before, I can keep a secret.”

Steve shook his head. “It might be good for them to have another adult around who knows. We’re awfully short of them these days.”

“And you're sure it’s…over?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. El doesn’t have her powers anymore, so she can’t open a gate, the lab is gone, and we destroyed the one at Starcourt so…”

Comically, the lights that had been off for over two hours chose that exact moment to flicker on and then off again.

“Well, I'm never going to sleep again.” Eddie declared.

“Welcome to the club, Munson.”

-

They spent the rest of the night lying together on the couch quietly listening to the wind and the rain. For the first time for Steve, and he suspects for Eddie also, the sound was soothing and not fear-inducing. Their hands had remained clasped long after they were done talking, and as the hour got late, and they sunk further into the couch together, their arms and legs became intertwined too. 

At some point, Steve realized Eddie fell asleep. He let himself gaze at the other boy in a way he never would have allowed himself if he was being watched. He looked so pretty like that in the candlelight, face relaxed. Very gently so as not to wake him, Steve pushed a bit of his hair back, admiring the way Eddie's long dark eyelashes brushed his cheek. Something seized in his chest and Steve sucked in a sharp breath. He’s never looked at a guy like this before, never felt this way about another boy. He should probably be freaking out about that a little more than he was, right?

He paused to look inside himself, and tried to drudge up the panic he thought he should feel in this moment, but found very little. He’s liked a lot of people in his life, and felt like he could always find something to love about a person, something beautiful or interesting. It didn’t matter if they were a girl or a boy. He just always assumed when he liked a boy it was in a friendly way. Maybe he was wrong.

He smiled to himself, realizing that Robin was going to be so mad that he’s accepted this new thing about himself so readily and completely without her assistance. Steve looked down again and found Eddie still fast asleep. He leaned down to press the lightest kiss on his forehead, before carefully extracting himself from the couch to blow the candles out. He didn’t want to move but it was too dangerous to fall asleep with them lit. When it was done, he didn’t even consider going up to his bedroom, instead he curled back up beside Eddie on the couch and let out a contented sigh.

And maybe the peace he felt in this moment was temporary, maybe he’ll panic about it later when he does tell Robin what he’s realized, but for right now he’s just happy to lay there, gazing into the face of the pretty boy who, in the course of one evening, had wrapped himself tightly around Steve's heart.

[just-ladyme]

Don’t mess with Eddie like that

[just-ladyme]

He's lying back, trying to think of Middle Earth instead of Steve Harrington on his lap, grinding against him or his stupid mouth against his neck. But uh, Middle Earth really isn't working for him right now. Eddie places his hands on Steve's ass (Jesus Christ), and get him closer, get him to move more. His brain is fried, glitching on the word almost, almost almost-- he gasps, shudders, and then promptly hides his face in Steve's hair. The wet spot in his jeans feels more damning than any mob, monster, or math teacher.

Steve pauses, and he knows. Fuck, of course he knows. It's not like this is Steve's first time. Eddie wishes he could tease and call him a slut but that's not exactly going to land at the moment. At least he still has his hands on Steve's wonderful, shapely butt. Steve pulls back and tries to catch Eddie's gaze, which is just not going to happen, no way. This time, he hides in the crook of Steve's neck.

"Did you just--?"

"NOPE." It's an absolutely undignified squeak of a denial, certainly not helping his case at all.

"You're lying, you just..." He hears the delight in Steve's voice. "I mean I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"You should have left me to die, Steve. Really, you should have left me in the Upside Down so I wouldn't have to deal with this!" Truly, there is no god. "An unjust and cruel punishment: to live with this humiliation."

"Oh, my god. It's not a big deal." Steve gently pushes him back, then takes his face in his hands. Trapping him. "Are you a virgin?"

"Have I not suffered enough?" He asks the universe more than Steve. "Yes, okay? Yes. Shocking, I know, that the president of the Hellfire club, super duper senior in high school, and satanic cultist don't pull a lot of babes!"

"You think I'm a babe?"

"I'm going to for real kill you."