livwritesstuff

[livwritesstuff]

I swear I've seen your face before

Steddie | 2.5k | Famous Rockstar Eddie Munson | Even more famous singer Steve Harrington | Mistaken identity | Music Awards

ao3

Just the night before the first major awards Corroded Coffin have ever been invited to, Eddie gets a drink and meets someone.

Eddie is not afraid. He is not. He is not afraid, or nervous, or scared, or anything like that. He is pretty chill, the chilliest of guys actually. That’s why he is currently looking for an open bar -or pub, or whatever they call them here- that is not too crowded at almost midnight, because he is so chill he doesn’t care about how he is going to look tomorrow when Corroded Coffin makes their first appearance at a major award show at the International Music Awards, in London, of all places.

The other guys are asleep at the hotel, they had been dicking around the whole flight here yesterday, too excited to be across the Atlantic, and hadn’t slept well that night from the jetlag (even when they are not really known for keeping a normal sleeping schedule). Today, after a few interviews and a good dinner, they had all hit the sheets and fallen asleep immediately. All except from Eddie.

He doesn’t have to get very far from his hotel before he sees it. An inconspicuous little thing, dimly lit, music high, and enough people in it that he won’t stand out, but not packed enough for it to be uncomfortable.

He finds a seat at the back corner of the bar and orders a beer. His eyes roam the place as he takes in the groups of friends, bigger or smaller, the few loners like him.

The music is not bad. It would have been asking too much to find a metal bar, but it’s good enough.

He is halfway through his beer when someone slides onto the seat next to him. Eddie looks at the guy with his side eye. He is handsome, roughly his age. He is wearing a shirt, but the first few buttons are undone, so it looks sexy, his chest hair peaking out.

“Hey,” the boy says when the waitress gets to him. “Can I get one of those?” he gestures to Eddie’s beer. “A pint? Beer. Big.” He does a weird thing with his hands.

The waitress shakes her head, an amused smile in her face. Eddie is sure that she would be annoyed by the ‘stupid yankee’ if the guy wasn’t so cute.

“You not from around here, mate?” Eddie asks, casual, with a fake British accent.

The guy turns to Eddie for a second. “Yeah, no. I’m American.”

“You do sound like you are from the colonies.”

Pretty boy turns to Eddie again, this time with a frown. “Are you making fun of me?”

Eddie laughs just as the waitress returns with the pint and the car reader. Eddie’s seat companion moves to take his wallet out, but Eddie is faster. His phone was already on top of the bar, so it’s barely two moves and the beer is paid for.

“Why did you do that?” the guy asks when the waitress leaves.

“Just a friendly gesture from a compatriot,” Eddie says, fake accent now dropped, and gives a two finger salute.

“You are American.” It is a accompanied by a sigh and a look of understanding.

Eddie brings his glass up with a smile, “cheers.”

The boy mirrors his move and they click their glasses.

“Name’s Eddie,” he introduces himself after they have sipped their drinks.

“Steve.”

“Tell me, Steve,” Eddie says, leaning towards him. Maybe too close, but Steve doesn’t shy away. Eddie likes him. “What is a boy like you doing in a place like this across the globe.”

Steve doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes roam Eddie’s face and body, taking him in. Eddie bites back a smile. He knows when someone is finding him attractive.

“I arrived today and couldn’t sleep.”

“Ugh!” Eddie groans, leaning with his back against the bar and looking at the ceiling. “Tell me about it.” He looks back at Steve. “Jetlag, man.”

“Jetlag, man,” Steve repeats sympathetically. He offers his drink for another cheers, and Eddie accepts it.

“But what brings you to this beautiful country?” Eddie asks.

“Got a… work event tomorrow.”

Steve looks like he would work on something corporate. Eddie is not going to ask him about that, no matter how pretty he is.

“Me too,” he chooses to say.

“Yeah? What do you work in?”

Eddie takes a sip to avoid answering, flags the waitress to get a new beer. He is enjoying Steve’s company. He likes that he is treating him like he is just some other dude, which he is. He is not that famous, but it is always appreciated these days.

Eddie shrugs. “Just stuff.”

Steve scoffs, “just like me, stuff.”

Steve beats him to pay this time. They flirt about it. They continue talking about this and that. They laugh. Everyone always tells Eddie that he is a good storyteller, that he makes anything he says interesting, but Steve is the same. Not in the same way as him, no, but he is also expressive and charismatic. It helps that Eddie’s eyes get lost in his peaking chest, the way his shirtsleeves are pulled to his elbows.

“You know, your face looks familiar,” Steve says, almost an hour into their talking.

“Oh yeah? Seen it in your dreams before?”

“Shut up,” Steve says with a laugh. “I’m serious.”

Eddie shrugs, “you look familiar too.” And he does. There’s something about his jaw… but there’s more people in the world with that jaw.

“It’s one of those faces, I look just like the guy next door. Very common.” Steve tries to brush it off.

If Eddie is objective, he is. He does look like just some guy. A handsome guy, a very attractive guy, but still. Eddie is not objective, so, “there is nothing common about you, big boy,” he says, leaning into Steve’s space again.

Steve stops, blinks a couple of times, Eddie smirks.

This is his opportunity.

A guy clears his throat from beside them. He stands behind them, because Steve and Eddie’s stools have moved to be almost against each other (if Eddie used the Challengers move to get Steve closer when he got up to use the toilet, the other boy didn’t say anything about it).

“Hey, I saw you from across the bar,” they guy says. He says it with a smile, but Eddie sees his nervousness in the way he is looking between the two of them. Eddie lifts his eyebrows. “Thought I recognised you.” Eddie looks at his leather jacket, his band t-shirt. He may not be wearing anything Corroded Coffin, but he knows a fan when he sees one. “I love your music, man.”

“Thank you,” Eddie answers at the same time as Steve. He turns towards the other boy with a frown, Steve looking at him in the same way. Maybe he got confused because the guy is looking between the two of them.

“Steve here can take a picture if you want,” Eddie offers.

“I don’t really want to-“ Steve starts saying.

“Will you really take a picture of us?” the boy asks, turning to him with a big smile in his face.

“Of… you?” Steve has a confused look in his eyes. Eddie would feel bad about not telling him who he is if he didn’t look so adorable.

“Yeah, please? I’m a great fan of you, Eddie. This is nuts, finding you here.”

“Thanks, man,” Eddie says with a smile, he claps the guy on his back and turns towards Steve, who is looking between the two of them with an unreadable look in his eyes. Something between surprised, amused and confused. “Steve, picture?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve snaps out of it and takes the offered phone. “I’ll take the picture, because he is a big fan of you and I’m just here, talking to you.”

“Yeah?” Now Eddie is the one confused, but he will ask Steve what is wrong later.

Now he stands up to be level with the guy and leans on him with a smile. Steve lowers the phone.

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

Eddie lets out a huff of amusement, but he is right. He can do better than that. He makes the devil horns and sticks out his tongue as Steve takes picture after picture, directing them like he is some kind of professional photographer. Maybe he is not in some corporate thing.

“Thanks, man,” the boy says when Steve hands him his phone back. He turns towards Eddie. “And thank you. My friends are NOT going to believe this, they are going to be so pissed off for not staying longer.” Eddie laughs, slaps him on the chest. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Eddie finally takes his arm away from the boy’s shoulder, “thank you.”

“And sorry for interrupting you.” His eyes fly to Steve, who just shrugs him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s not every day you see Eddie Munson in London, is it? Sorry, I’m leaving now, thanks again!”

True to his word, he leaves. When Eddie sits down again, Steve has his elbow on the bar and his head on his hand, looking at him.

“So?”

“A fan.”

Steve snorts, “Really? Hadn’t caught that. But why? Are you like a youtuber or something?”

“What? No!” Eddie is almost offended. “Who even is a youtuber nowadays, no. I have a band.”

Steve looks at him, from head to toe. “A rockstar then.”

“Something like that. The work thing from tomorrow? It’s the IMAs.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just blinks.

“International Music Awards? They started making them a couple years ago to have some awards that really celebrated people from different- doesn’t matter. They make them in a different country each year, last year was Tokyo, this year is London, that’s why I’m here, I’m nominated. Well, my band is nominated for a couple of awards. It’s the first time we are nominated for something like this.”

“That’s- wait, band?”

“Yeah, Corroded Coffin? You may have heard of us.”

Steve snaps his fingers and points at him with a triumphant look in his eyes, “Corroded Coffin! I knew I’d seen your face before. One of my friends is like a super fan of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie tries not to let the pride at listening to those words get to him.

“Yeah, he even joked about me bumping into you. He told me to take a picture with you if I did.”

“Really? And how were you planning on doing that if you didn’t know my face?”

Steve pauses, like he is debating if he should say something. In the end, he just shrugs. “Dunno, the context? Maybe I expected an entourage of groupies or something.”

Eddie laughs. “No groupies for me.” An idea forms in his head. He grabs his phone and toys with it. “You know, we can take that picture your friend asked for.”

“With your phone?” Steve asks with an eyebrow raised.

“I can send it to you.”

Steve looks at him like he knows exactly what Eddie is trying to do, but he agrees. The waitress takes their picture for them when she sees them taking a selfie, Eddie licks Steve’s cheek in one of them, but the boy only protests half-heartedly. Eddie secures Steve’s number under the pretext of sending him the pictures. They continue talking, and it’s like nothing has changed for Steve. He doesn’t treat Eddie differently, if anything, he sounds even more relaxed now.

Eddie doesn’t think about how he should go back to the hotel and rest for tomorrow, too lost in Steve’s hazel eyes. They stay there, talking and drinking until the waitress informs them it’s the last round, and then until the music stops and they have to leave the bar.

They stand outside in the cold, knowing that they have to say goodbye but reluctant to it. Maybe Eddie can take Steve back to his hotel, but he doesn’t want to deal with the lecture that will surely come out of it when the room needs to be filled with stylists. He has Steve’s number, but that doesn’t really mean anything. He wants to see Steve again soon. He wants to see him tomorrow, stupid awards be damned.

Eddie gets an idea.

“Okay, what if,” he starts, his hands in front of him, his head tilted. Steve looks at him curiously. “You came with me tomorrow.”

“To the awards?” Steve asks, his eyebrows high in his forehead.

“Exactly.” Eddie points a finger at him. He starts moving as he talks to deliver his speech as best as he can. “Think about it. It’s our first international awards invite and I don’t wanna be boring! Just showing up with my band is boring! It’s what everyone does! No drama! But showing up with a random guy-“ Steve snorts. “-and walking the red carpet with him? No leaving you behind like people do with their families and friends so they don’t show up in the pictures. I’m talking about you taking the pictures with me (maybe get a little naughty in the red carpet), sitting at our table… The whole thing!” Eddie finishes with a grand gesture. Steve looks amused.

“And they are just going to let you bring me with you with no heads up?”

“We’ll figure a way.” Eddie gets closer to Steve, takes his hands in his. “Please, it will be so much fun! And when else would a normal guy like you have the opportunity of coming to something like this?”

Steve seems to think about it for a few seconds and bites back a smile, “okay, I’ll be your date.”

“Yes!” Eddie shouts, letting go of Steve to celebrate properly.

“You better make it fun, Munson!”

Eddie kisses Steve’s cheek, just a quick press of lips before he is walking away, pointing at him. “I will! I swear it will the best night of your life!”

****

Steve shakes his head as he looks at Eddie’s form walk away with a skip in his step. He will admit it, he is properly charmed. That’s not the only reason he agreed to the date, no. He knows he is going to have a lot of fun tomorrow, in ways Eddie can’t even imagine. He can’t wait to see his face.

He takes his phone out. It’s late (or early) for a phone call, so he just sends a text.

I need a seat change for the ceremony. Also, we are changing my whole look.

[livwritesstuff]

Steddie where Steve and Eddie find out their friends are running a betting pool on when the two of them are going to start dating.

Everybody is placing bets. Everybody.

(Hopper believes they’ll be together before Halloween, Joyce is betting on Thanksgiving. Karen Wheeler is betting on New Year’s eve.)

It’s Robin who lets the information slip, of course. Eddie is pissed, but Steve sees an opportunity there. What if they pretend they’re dating? Robin can place a new bet, they pretend they are a couple somewhere the Party can see them, then they get the money and split it between the three of them.

“How much money are we talking about?” Eddie asks.

“Last time I checked, five hundred dollars. But I think Erica, Nancy and Will placed new bets last week, so it’s probably more now. Dustin is the one in charge of the money.”

“Of course he is.”

Robin ends up placing a bet on Steve and Eddie getting together in less than a month. Dustin is surprised when she tells him that, and also suspicious about Robin’s change of heart; her last bet had been they wouldn’t be together until next year.

“They’re worse than ever, kid,” she justifies when Dustin questions her about it. “Last night we were watching a movie at Steve’s and he spent the whole night basically on Eddie’s lap. I thought he was gonna start purring because Eddie kept petting his hair like he was a giant cat. There’s no way they’re taking too long now; they are not that dumb.”

Dustin could argue but ends up accepting Robin’s excuse. The bet is placed and she gets back to Eddie’s to inform her friends her part on the plan is done.

“Now you have a month to decide how you’re gonna do this,” she says before leaving those two to their shenanigans.

But that’s not a problem, they already know how they’re gonna get that money.

There’s a carnival coming to Hawkins in two weeks, and there’s no way the kids won’t be there, stuffing their faces with enough greasy food that would make a normal person sick to their stomach and wasting their money on games.

Two weeks and a half later, Dustin tries to bully Steve into taking him, Lucas and Max to the carnival. Steve makes up a whole story about his parents being in town and throwing a dinner party they’re forcing Steve to attend. Dustin then asks Eddie and Eddie just says no, giving the kid no other excuse. It’s Jonathan and Nancy who end up taking the whole party.

It’s a Friday night when they finally put their plan into action. Steve picks Eddie up for their “date” around six, and they head to the carnival. If Robin’s info is right, the kids should arrive a little over half an hour later, so they have time to prepare before their little scheme starts.

They walk around for a few minutes, looking for a place where they can have a clear view of the entrance, so they can see when the kids arrive. They stay close to the food stall because it’s perfectly placed a few yards from the ticket booth, and Eddie can also stuff his own face with greasy food while they wait.

A corndog and half a funnel cake later, Steve catches sight of El and Max walking ahead of the rest of the group, the boys following.

“Come on, it’s time,” Steve says offering his hand.

Eddie takes it without a second thought, smiling with his mouth still full of cake. “Let’s do this, sweetheart.”

They stay a few more moments there as Eddie finishes off his food, until they are sure the kids have spotted them. Then it’s show time.

Hand in hand, the two of them explore the stands. Eddie spends a good fifteen minutes trying to win a prize for Steve, just for Steve to win it in his first try. They go on a few rides (the very cliché ones every couple always go when they’re on dates), stop by the food stall again so they can share some cotton candy. They do all this hand in hand, only letting go when they really need to.

The kids follow them around the entire time, just like Eddie and Steve knew they would.

After almost an hour of this, they come to the conclusion that they’ve been convincing enough and it’s time for them to get their money. Eddie pulls Steve towards a more secluded area, rounding some stands and walking towards the parking lot until they leave all the noise and light from the carnival behind.

When they are sure there’s no one else around, they stop and Eddie crowds Steve against the closest car.

“Can you see them?” he whispers in Steve’s ear, resting his hands on the guy’s hips.

“Yeah. They’re hiding behind the green truck. Dustin and Mike are shoving each other and arguing, but the others are paying attention.”

“Good.” That’s all Eddie says before he kisses Steve.

That’s a point in their plan they discussed thoroughly. How far did they need to go to get their hands on that money? How far were they willing to go? Eddie was okay with whatever, but he had no idea about Steve.

“Dude, Dustin is not giving Robin any money if we only hold hands or hug. Kissing is the safest way.”

Still, Eddie didn’t want things to be weird between them after everything. They talked a lot until they finally agreed on one kiss, just for show, so there was no doubt they were together. They’d hang out for a few days after. They’d show up together to pick up Dustin when the kid asked, Steve would make a point to visit Eddie at the trailer park so Max could see them too. Robin would get the money; they would split it between them. Then they’d break up amicably. And when the kids asked, they’d just say it didn’t work out, that they were better off as friends.

That’s the plan they came up with; a very solid plan in their opinion.

That is until the time comes and they finally kiss.

When Eddie’s lips touch his, Steve’s whole body comes alive. Goosebumps run down his arms, and he feels a spark right down his spine. Eddie’s hands on his hips feel like brands and Steve gasps, shocked, as his senses go haywire.

It’s too much and not enough. Steve’s heart is hammering, his brain working like crazy to process what the hell is happening there. But, then, Eddie is pulling him closer and deepening the kiss and Steve is gone, gone, gone; hands burying into Eddie’s hair as he kisses him back with everything he’s got.

Neither Steve nor Eddie sees the kids leave, cursing and complaining about their lost money. They’re just too busy to notice.

[livwritesstuff]

There came a moment in parenting when Eddie realized something – kids are boring.

Eddie thought it would be the other way around — that there would come a day when his kids would think that he and Steve were soooo lame, but no. His children, as they graduate from little kid to big kid status are getting lamer by the day.

Like, it’s summer vacation and so Eddie gets that the kids are gonna want to kick their feet up and relax, which Eddie gets. He totally does.

But…they didn’t even look at him when he asked if they wanted to get ice cream, stuck like glue to Moe’s friggin Nintendogs or whatever. Since when did they grumble at him over ice cream?

He relays all this to Steve as he’s cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, who says – 

“Hazel wants to go.”

“She said she didn’t,” Eddie reminds him.

“Yeah, obviously, if Moe and Robbie said they didn’t,” Steve says, shaking his head, “She’s seven. Of course she wants to go get ice cream.”

“You think?”

“Dude – if you’d asked just her, she would’a said yes in a heartbeat.”

Eddie considers this for a moment, then turns on his heels and heads back for the living room, where Hazel is still peering at Moe’s DS over her shoulder. 

“I’m just gonna–” Eddie casually says, and Moe and Robbie both make confused noises as Eddie lifts Hazel up and away, “That’s right – I’m stealing the baby. Leave me alone.”

So Eddie absconds with Hazel, and she’s still giggling as he sits her on the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” he says, “Wanna go play mini golf with me and Papa and get some ice cream before it gets too dark?”

Hazel looks at him skeptically.

“Just me?”

“Well, I’d invite your sissies but…seems to me like they’d be no fun today. What d’you think? Wanna help me crush Papa like last time?”

“Hey,” Steve warns, “That’s not how I remember it.”

Hazel giggles, “Yeah!”

“Sweet, let’s hit the road then.”

He helps Hazel jump off the counter and sends her off to get some shoes on, and as they’re on their way out the door, Eddie pokes his head into the living room where Moe and Robbie are still lying on the rug, laser-focused on Moe’s game.

“I hope you girlies have a pleasant rest of your evening,” Eddie says, smushing a little eyelet sunhat onto Hazel’s head, “We will see the two of you later.”

Robbie spares him a glance. “Huh?”

“Hazy and Papa and I are gonna go play a round of mini-golf and get some ice cream.”

Moe and Robbie exchange a confused glance.

“Why just Hazel?” Moe asks, looking offended.

“Uh, well, I asked you two and y’said no. Don’t know if you remember that or not.”

“I’ll go…if you’re already going,” Moe says, all blasé and cool in her big age of twelve.

“Yeah,” Robbie adds, eyeing Moe cautiously, “Me too.”

"Well, chop-chop, then. Let's go."

As if to illustrate his point, Eddie hears the sound of Steve starting the car up in the driveway, and suddenly the girls are scrambling up and towards the door.

[livwritesstuff]

You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive

Steddie | wc 2,259 | tw car crash

Read on Ao3

"I'll catch ya in the morning," Wayne said, slipping on his jacket and throwing on a hat. It's been down pouring for the last twenty minutes and it doesn't look like it will lighten up. "Your boy comin' over?"

"He's not my boy," Eddie frowned. Wayne has this crazy idea that Eddie was dating Steve. No matter how much Eddie would love for that to happen — it's not going to. Steve's straight. Steve's type is Nancy Wheeler, not Eddie Munson. "But yes, Steve is coming over soon."

Wayne laughed, shaking his head. "Let me know when you boys get your heads on right. If that's tonight, I need y'all to keep it in your room. The couch is communal and off limits."

"You're sick, old man," Eddie laughed. "Ain't nothing happened. Steve doesn't — he's not like that."

"What's he like then?" Wayne grinned. "A gentleman? It's well pass the third date, he kiss ya yet?"

"Wayne," Eddie hissed. "We're not dating."

"Okay," Wayne laughed. "Sure, but one day I'll remind you of this."

"Laugh it up," Eddie rolled his eyes. "Go to work already, will ya?"

Wayne laughed again. "See you in the morning."

Eddie sighed, collapsing in the couch.

Of course he wishes him and Steve were an item. But that's not possible. Steve doesn't like him like that and Eddie — well, he's Eddie. Even if Steve was gay, there's no way he'd go for Eddie. Steve is so straight-laced. His type is feminine and Eddie's the furthest from it. Okay, maybe not the furthest, but he's just as tall — if not taller — than Steve. His fingers are longer, they measured once, at Steve's request, when they were high. Eddie doesn't have tits and he's proud to announce that his dick is bigger than average. There's no way he'd be Steve's type.

But Steve is Eddie's type and so much more.

The American golden boy. A real life fucking Paladin. Sticking his neck out for his party, making sure they're safe. Making sure Eddie's safe. Eddie couldn't count on his hand the times that Steve's stuck up for Eddie in the grocery store or at the baseball fields watching Lucas play summer games. Steve was sweet. Steve was bitchy. Steve was —

Well.

Steve was beautiful.

Eddie's known this for a while. But spring break solidified it.

They've been friends — best friends — ever since Eddie got out of the hospital.

Spending time between their houses, at the drive in, smoking or drinking and everything in between.

Tonight wasn't any different. The promise of a movie (Eddie's pick) and supper (Steve's pick, probably burgers from the diner) and a little bit of weed. They'll smoke each other out and Steve will stay the night. Like he always does.

Except he's late.

Usually he's here and settled on the couch, their dinner spread across the coffee table before Wayne leaves — sans teasing.

Eddie knew he worked today. Maybe Keith was late and kept Steve behind. Or Keith forced him to do more work before he clocked out, rewinding tapes or lining shelves.

But Steve would've called.

He always calls.

Eddie busied himself, listening to the rain on the trailer's roof. Eddie wondered if the rain would be too loud for the movie. If they should've considered meeting at Steve's instead. He got the movie ready — tape in the player and paused. He made popcorn on the stovetop, poured melted butter and salt over it. Picked up clothes from his bedroom floor and put them in the hamper.

But it grew later and later.

Where the fuck was Steve?

The phone rang.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

That should answer his question.

Eddie walked to the phone hanging on the wall, right where the hallway meets the kitchen.

Eddie picked up the receiver, leaning against the wall. "Munson's creamatorium. You croak 'em, we smoke —"

"Ed —" Wayne cut Eddie off. "When it stops raining, need you down at the hospital."

"What?" Eddie asked. "Why?"

"Can't tell ya why," Wayne huffed. "Know how you are. You'd find your way down here after I told ya not to."

"Jesus, Wayne," Eddie frowned. "The crypt master — wait, are you hurt?"

"Not me," Wayne confirmed.

"Okay," Eddie said cautiously. "I'll come down when the rain stops. I'll call Steve and tell him to not come over."

There was a long pause, followed by a tired sigh. "He ain't gonna answer."

Eddie's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"He ain't gonna answer your call," Wayne said. "Ain't nobody home."

"Nobody — Wayne, what are you saying?" Eddie asked.

There was silence.

Eddie wondered for a moment if Wayne got disconnected.

"I found him," Wayne said, his voice hitching. "I found him, Eddie. I — I called his house. Nobody answered."

"His parents aren't home," Eddie furrowed his brow. "They're hardly ever — what do you mean you found him?"

"He was in the ditch, Ed," Wayne explained. "The car — he slid off the road. I barely saw him when I drove by. The tail lights were still on and — Eddie, don't come down yet. I can't —"

"Wayne, I gotta," Eddie said. "I gotta — I'll see you soon —"

"Ed, I need you to wait," Wayne snapped. "Steve needs you to wait. Let the storm lighten up. He needs you here alive."

"Wayne —"

"Wait," Wayne said. "We're not going anywhere."

The phone ended with a click.

Steve's hurt.

Steve was in a wreck and he's hurt.

Eddie slammed the receiver back on the wall.

He nearly tripped over himself as he grabbed his keys off the counter and sprinted to the front door. He shoved his socked feet into his reeboks and —

The crack of thunder reminded him he needed to wait.

He stood with the front door open, watching the rain pour down.

Visibility ain't worth shit in this rain. Eddie could barely see the end of the trailer park, let alone would he be able to see shit on the highway.

Steve drove in this.

Steve wrecked on his way to Eddie's house.

And Eddie can't go to Steve.

Eddie stepped out on the porch, pulling the door shut. He sat on the outdoor couch — patio furniture, as Wayne calls it — and waited.

But the longer he waited, he couldn't help to think what was wrong.

He didn't ask Wayne.

Was Steve on life support?

Was he breathing?

Did he hit his head?

Was Steve okay?

Jesus. Eddie ran his hands over his face.

He should've told Steve not to come. He should've said he'd meet him at his house instead of making Steve drive three miles out of town. He should've —

He should've admitted his feelings for Steve.

What if Steve's not alright?

What if Steve never wakes up?

Eddie missed his chance to tell Steve how he feels — how he's in love with him.

What if Eddie never has the chance to tell him?

The rain started to lighten up.

Not cleared — but good enough.

Eddie jumped off the couch and off the porch, leaping towards the van. He shoved the key in the ignition, starting the car.

"I'm coming, Steve," Eddie breathed, watching the van come to life. He backed out of his spot in a hurry, turning on his lights as he made his way to the front of the trailer park and on the highway.

The rain was a little heavier than a sprinkle, but enough that he still needed to drive slow. Especially, if he wanted to make it alive to Steve.

Eddie was about a mile out of the trailer park when he saw the Beemer, nose first in the ditch on the wrong side of the road. Eddie couldn't help but let out a sob. Steve hydroplaned, spinning on the wet road as he lost control.

It looked bad.

The Beemer was totaled. Had to be.

Eddie turned his focus away from the Beemer, blinking tears away. He needed to focus. He needed to get to the hospital — get to Steve.

And he needed to be there in one piece for Steve.

When he pulled into the parking lot, he barely stopped the van before he was leaping out and running to the doors. He looked around the waiting room lobby — clearly not going to find Steve here. He stepped towards the front desk, when he felt someone grab his arm.

He tried yanking it out of their grip until he heard Wayne's voice.

"Eddie!" Wayne snapped. "I've been calling your name —" he pulled Eddie into a tight hug. "Shit. Hoping you'd wait a few more, but glad you waited for it to slow."

"How is he?" Eddie asked, pulling away from Wayne. "Is he okay?"

"He's better," Wayne said, removing his hat and holding it across his chest. "He's — he's definitely had better days."

Eddie's eyes darted toward Wayne's hat in his hand — his hand stained with blood. "Wayne, is that his blood? Jesus Christ, tell me that's not his blood —"

"You better sit down," Wayne said, pulling Eddie towards the lobby chairs. "I'll tell ya."

Eddie collapsed in the chair as Wayne recounted the story of how he was heading to work, and saw the tail lights in the ditch. About how he almost didn't pull over but felt like something was wrong. About how he left his car ahead, blinkers flashing as he pulled out the flashlight from the glove box and approached the car.

How the light shined on the man hunched over the steering wheel.

How he got closer and saw a familiarity in the man — in the boy through the broken windshield.

How his cautious steps became a sprint as he went to the driver's side and pulled the door open.

And how he had to pull.

How lifeless Steve looked and how Wayne's former army med training kicked in.

How there was blood down Steve's face as he laid him on the side of the road. How he checked his breath and pulse.

How he preformed CPR right there off of Highway 231.

How the breath returned to Steve's lungs sharp and painful.

How he carried Steve — bigger than Eddie — to the truck and buckled him in.

Maybe he neglected to tell Eddie how Steve's faint voice continued to thank Eddie for saving him. How Wayne had to keep his hand in Steve's to make sure Steve was awake.

How Steve begged for his momma, tears streaming down his face, as he was laid into the hospital gurney, wheeled back behind the double doors.

He told Eddie that he tried calling the Harrington's, but no one answered. Knew it was too late to call his dad's office to pass on a message if they were out of town.

How he's been waiting for an update since they arrived.

Eddie let out a shaky exhale. "He's gonna be alright?"

"I hope so," Wayne said, pulling Eddie in and pressing quick kiss to his temple. "He's strong, that boy of yours."

"Yeah," Eddie said softly.

"Harrington?" A nurse called from the front of the lobby.

Eddie scrambled off his feet. "Us!" He said, tripping over himself to go to the nurse. "That's — that's us."

"This way," she said, leading Eddie and Wayne back the double doors. "He's awake. A little drowsy and loopy, but he's doing better. Couple of bruised ribs, suspected broken wrist — but we need to wait for the swelling to go down before we can do surgery."

"Surgery?" Eddie asked.

"Routine," the nurse said. "I promise. Quick in and out. Then a cast. He had a couple of stitches were the glass had cut him. We'd like to keep him over night. Surgery in the morning and a discharge in the afternoon."

She lead the Munsons into a room, knocking on the door as she entered. "Steve, you got some visitors."

Steve's glance was lazy, through hooded eyes as he leaned back into the pillows. He tilted his head, following the sound of the nurse's voice.

Then his eyes gleamed.

"Eddie," Steve breathed. He slowly moved his right hand — his good hand — as if the air was as thick as jello. "Eddie —" Steve's voice was cut off by a sob.

Eddie pushed past the nurse and sat in the chair next to Steve. He gently took Steve's hand in his. "I'm here for you, sweetheart," Eddie said, barely fighting back the tears. He gently ran his other hand over Steve's hair, pushing it back and revealing the stitches at his hairline. "I'm here, Stevie."

Steve's eyes slowly mapped Eddie's face, as if he was taking in every aspect. "Eds," he softly spoke. "It's a downpour. Not safe to drive."

Eddie let out a choke laugh, leaning his head towards their enclosed hands. "I had to, baby," Eddie said. "For you."

Steve hummed, closing his eyes. "I love it when you call me that. Baby. Sweetheart."

"You'll always be my baby, sweetheart," Eddie said softly. "I ever tell you how pretty you are?"

"I love you, Eds," Steve said softly, eyes shut. His grip on Eddie's hand softened as he drifted to sleep. "I thought in the car — that I'd never —"

"I love you, too, Stevie," Eddie pressed a quick kiss against Steve's hand. Wayne squeezed Eddie's shoulder as he passed by, walking to the couch on the other side of Steve's bed. "I'll be here for you when you wake up."

Eddie wanted to tell Steve that he'd be there for every time he wakes up for now until enternity — but that conversation can wait until morning.

Right now, all that matters is Steve is alive.

[livwritesstuff]

https://youtube.com/shorts/KT8MF2bvApc?si=UMeBeqZhU7qAi5VW

I think Haze would definetly do this with Eddie or maybe even with Moe knowing that they are both really handy in this department.

Also would be curious if Ed would ever do like a "fixing up a car for you" project with any of the girls. I think again that Moe would defiently be one of them but I can see Robbie being really into it too

Let me know your thoughts I am always eager to learn more about the au you created lots of love!!

oh that vid is so fun!

i definitely think moe and eddie embark on an enormous car project when moe buys her jeep (a wrangler, to be specific).

according to my car-guy partner, wranglers are basically useless unless you do some pretty serious upgrading on them, which moe obviously knew. it’s why she bought it in the first place.

moe picked up a hobby in cars and mechanics while she was in college studying engineering, so it wasn't a huge undertaking to do the work on the car herself, with the help of ex-mechanic eddie, who was beyond thrilled to have a project for the two of them to work on together.

i can see hazel being like *ooh - new tiktok series* and trying to document the process with her next to no background knowledge on cars/mechanics, and it goes just about as well as you'd expect lol

[livwritesstuff]

https://youtube.com/shorts/08WUY5ovrL8?si=Z53rvqvxjXez3nEZ

This screams like something Eddie would keep a list on!!

HA you have NO idea how many times I’ve seen those tiktoks and been like *oh my god i need to write this for hazel’s tiktok page* bc you’re so right eddie would 100% keep a running list in his mind of everything steve says to him that he could never ever say back.

so yeah hazel shows the trend to eddie who *immediately* writes everything down, and then they all sit down in the living room to film this:

“Okay,” Eddie says when Hazel starts recording, “Per my daughter’s request, I’ll be reading a list of things my ever-loving husband has said to me that I could never, ever say to him.” He looks at Steve, “You ready?”

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” he replies (he knows exactly what they’re talking about).

“Number 1 –” Eddie starts, “It can’t be that bad. Stop being so melodramatic.” and Moe and Robbie and Hazel can be heard giggling behind the camera while he turns to look at Steve, “Do you remember saying this to me?”

"I do," Steve replied with a matter-of-fact kind of shrug, “You were complaining about a headache to get out of helping me in the yard."

“Precisely," Eddie says, and then he looks back towards the camera, "Can you imagine if I told the guy with chronic migraines ‘it can’t be that bad’.”

“Okay," he continues, "Number two. I don’t know what I want more – for the axe murderer to get you, or me, so you have to live with yourself afterwards.”

And Moe and Hazel are laughing so hard they’re in tears. Hazel pans her phone over to Robbie, whose mouth is agape in a baffled expression, just as she says, “Pop…why did you say that?”

"Go ahead," Eddie says, elbowing Steve, who's hiding a laugh behind his hand, "Explain."

“Okay," Steve manages with a sheepish grin, "I know I shouldn't have said that-"

"But?" Eddie cuts in.

"But, he left the garage doors open overnight.”

“And we all survived it, even if the love of my life wishes one of us didn't just to prove a point." Steve opens his mouth to interject, but Eddie barrels on before he has a chance to speak, "Number three – Did you forget how to read or did you just never learn?”

And that one finally has Steve breaking, shoulders shaking with laughter as he presses his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “That was uncalled for.”

Eddie looks directly into the camera as he says, “Pop knows exactly why I’d be dead-fuckin’-meat if I said anything like that to him.”

“Last one – If you leave the house dressed like that, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you.”

“Okay, I stand by that,” Steve says, ignoring the howls of laughter around him, “You haven't voluntarily bought new clothes since 1999 and it’s all falling apart. We were going to a nice dinner and you had holes in the back of your shirt. How does anyone even get holes in the back of a shirt?”

“Okay you’re saying this like you don’t have that one shirt from, like, 1991 that you refuse to get rid of.”

“You like that shirt.”

“.....Yeah, don’t get rid of that shirt. I like that shirt."

[livwritesstuff]

I rarely post just a tiktok, i try to pad it out a little bit into at least a drabble but THIS. This is the exact dynamic i imagine between eddie and robbie and i couldn’t not share

[livwritesstuff]

p2 of robin being the world’s most chaotic aunt because i liked writing the first one

Robin: *gives toddler-Moe her mostly uneaten Hershey bar*

Eddie: Uhhh…it’s a little late in the day for candy.

Robin: What do you want me to do? Take it back?

Robin: You want me to take candy from a baby?

Robin: Wooooow Eddie. You’ve changed. I don’t even know you anymore.

(Meanwhile Steve is watching Moe *demolish* the Hershey bar)

Robin: *holding 12mo Hazel upside down and swinging her back and forth like a pendulum*

Robin: *pauses*

Robin, to Steve: Does she look happy about this?

Steve: Yeah.

Robin: Okay good. I can’t tell from here.

*4yo Robbie comes back from the park all teary-eyed and skinned knees*

Robin: What happened to you?

Steve: Someone pushed her.

Robin: Did you push ‘em back?

Robbie: No.

Robin, Oh, you gotta push ‘em back. I’m gonna tell you something your dads won’t – if someone else starts it, legally you cannot be held responsible for your actions.

Robin, to Steve: I’m gonna get her a switch blade for her birthday.

Steve: Great.

Moe, to Robin: Can I have a popsicle?

Steve: No.

Robin: Who said no?

Steve: Papa said no.

Robin, handing Moe a popsicle: I didn’t hear him.

Robbie (10mo) to Robin: Dada!

Robin: *makes a face*

Robin: What did you just call me?

[livwritesstuff]

finally posting the long-awaited follow-up to sunflower in the evening (steve-jim father-son au that eddie is constantly eight steps behind on). this one is post-season 3 soooooo slightly different tone

Steve stood Eddie up two whole times before everything in their world changed.

Okay, fine – Eddie knows that the first time doesn’t really count because Steve had called him to let him know ahead of time that he needed to bail on their scheduled movie night turned-evening of so much couch-sex that Eddie won’t look his uncle in the eye for days after. Steve had said something about how ‘Dustin is back from camp and already flipping his lid over some dorky radio thing’ before apologizing many, many times and rescheduling for the next night, said maybe they’d crash the Fourth of July fair, give Eddie the chance to flip shitbag Mayor Klein the bird, so Eddie hadn’t been all that bothered by the change in plans.

And then the next night arrived and Steve stood him up for real, and Eddie had stewed about it for a while, plotting in his mind the argument he’d start whenever Steve showed his ugly mug again (that’s a joke, Steve is the hottest person Eddie has ever seen in real life), because Eddie’s toxic like that, and because Steve turns real bitchy when Eddie gets on his case in that way which, somehow, makes him even hotter.

He’d stewed until folks in the trailer park started getting noisy, started coming outside and gathering and shit, and when Eddie joined them (because he’s toxic and nosy), he learned that there’d been a bad fire or something else fucking awful at the mall, and then his blood had run cold and he’d felt like the dumbest guy alive for even thinking bad things about his relationship, his Steve, when there’d been a whole unexplored grand scheme of things to worry about.

And there had been, because Steve’s dad is dead.

Hopper, that is, not Mr. Harrington, which – and Eddie’s at risk of sounding a little insensitive here, but there was a worse option between the two and the good ‘ol universe landed square on it.

Hopper died in the Starcourt Mall disaster that nearly took Steve too, actually took a good chunk of Hawkins, and it’s at the very top of a laundry list of things Steve lost during that fucking horrible night that, somehow, is managing to get longer and longer even three months later.

“You doin’ alright, Stevie?” Eddie finds himself asking Steve.

He finds himself asking Steve this a lot because, Christ, someone should. But no, if anyone bothers to say anything to Steve at all, it’s just that he’s handling things like a champ (which drives Eddie fucking insane because anyone with a brain and two eyes stuffed into their skulls should be able to see that it’s an act). But, in fairness, Steve is also maddeningly good at appearing to the world like he’s totally fine, not that this is new information to Eddie – he just let himself get used to a world where Steve actually had a small handful of people who could read through his bullshit. Then that handful decreased by one in the worst possible way when Hopper died, and it’s about to drop by one more because today…

Today his sister is leaving.

Steve’s not-sister Jane-El is moving to California, and Steve is staying here.

Continue on AO3

[livwritesstuff]

finally posting the long-awaited follow-up to sunflower in the evening (steve-jim father-son au that eddie is constantly eight steps behind on). this one is post-season 3 soooooo slightly different tone

Steve stood Eddie up two whole times before everything in their world changed.

Okay, fine – Eddie knows that the first time doesn’t really count because Steve had called him to let him know ahead of time that he needed to bail on their scheduled movie night turned-evening of so much couch-sex that Eddie won’t look his uncle in the eye for days after. Steve had said something about how ‘Dustin is back from camp and already flipping his lid over some dorky radio thing’ before apologizing many, many times and rescheduling for the next night, said maybe they’d crash the Fourth of July fair, give Eddie the chance to flip shitbag Mayor Klein the bird, so Eddie hadn’t been all that bothered by the change in plans.

And then the next night arrived and Steve stood him up for real, and Eddie had stewed about it for a while, plotting in his mind the argument he’d start whenever Steve showed his ugly mug again (that’s a joke, Steve is the hottest person Eddie has ever seen in real life), because Eddie’s toxic like that, and because Steve turns real bitchy when Eddie gets on his case in that way which, somehow, makes him even hotter.

He’d stewed until folks in the trailer park started getting noisy, started coming outside and gathering and shit, and when Eddie joined them (because he’s toxic and nosy), he learned that there’d been a bad fire or something else fucking awful at the mall, and then his blood had run cold and he’d felt like the dumbest guy alive for even thinking bad things about his relationship, his Steve, when there’d been a whole unexplored grand scheme of things to worry about.

And there had been, because Steve’s dad is dead.

Hopper, that is, not Mr. Harrington, which – and Eddie’s at risk of sounding a little insensitive here, but there was a worse option between the two and the good ‘ol universe landed square on it.

Hopper died in the Starcourt Mall disaster that nearly took Steve too, actually took a good chunk of Hawkins, and it’s at the very top of a laundry list of things Steve lost during that fucking horrible night that, somehow, is managing to get longer and longer even three months later.

“You doin’ alright, Stevie?” Eddie finds himself asking Steve.

He finds himself asking Steve this a lot because, Christ, someone should. But no, if anyone bothers to say anything to Steve at all, it’s just that he’s handling things like a champ (which drives Eddie fucking insane because anyone with a brain and two eyes stuffed into their skulls should be able to see that it’s an act). But, in fairness, Steve is also maddeningly good at appearing to the world like he’s totally fine, not that this is new information to Eddie – he just let himself get used to a world where Steve actually had a small handful of people who could read through his bullshit. Then that handful decreased by one in the worst possible way when Hopper died, and it’s about to drop by one more because today…

Today his sister is leaving.

Steve’s not-sister Jane-El is moving to California, and Steve is staying here.

Continue on AO3

[livwritesstuff]

ok update i will 100% be posting this later today

fingers crossed that i'm not jinxing myself here but i thiiiiink i may have pt2 of my eddie-pov hopper is kind of steve's dad fic from this past fall done & posted by the end of next week 👀

[livwritesstuff]

after seeing my 900th *someone in this circle...* trend on tiktok, i had to write Hazel's version that she ropes her dads into:

Hazel: Someone in this circle was supposed to film my last ever dance show and instead he filmed the floor for ninety minutes.

Steve: And he was filming on a phone. We still don't know how he did it

Eddie: Okay.

—

Eddie: Someone in this circle needs to be told we're leaving 30 minutes earlier than we actually need to leave or else she makes the entire family late.

—

Steve: Someone in this circle once listed 911 as her emergency contact.

Hazel: *Looks at floor in shame*

—

Steve: Someone in this circle puts empty shit back in the fridge and blames his children when I find it.

Eddie: Definitely Hazel.

—

Eddie: Someone in this circle hung up on school staff not once but eight times in one year because he forgot our oldest daughter's first name.

—

Hazel: Someone in this circle got so excited when he found out Moe was dating Gray that he forgot to get me a set of the matching Christmas PJs and I was the only one that didn't have them.

Steve: Yeah, that was pretty bad. Twenty years of matching PJs down the drain.

Steve: And you're not even the kid I thought I'd forget.

[livwritesstuff]

fingers crossed that i'm not jinxing myself here but i thiiiiink i may have pt2 of my eddie-pov hopper is kind of steve's dad fic from this past fall done & posted by the end of next week 👀

[livwritesstuff]

Something Real

One movie, one confrontation, and one shared bucket of popcorn makes Eddie start to realise that maybe he never really knew Steve at all—and maybe, just maybe, he wants to. Also on AO3 [Here]

Eddie Munson has been waiting for weeks for this movie to come out.

It’s a low-budget horror flick with a cult following and a killer soundtrack. None of Eddie’s friends were available or particularly interested in going, but that’s fine, he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He’s got his overpriced popcorn, a drink the size of his head, and a seat smack in the middle of the theatre. Perfect.

Or it is up until Steve Harrington walks in.

Eddie notices him immediately. It’s hard not to. He’s got that hair, that walk, the tiny moles on his face that make him look soft and a great body. The subject of Eddie’s most hopeless, pathetic high school crush. And of course, he’s not alone. There’s a girl on his arm, pretty in a polished, too perfect kind of way.

He watches, curious despite himself. Steve’s always been a bit of an enigma. Eddie’s heard the stories. King Steve. Heartbreaker. Every bit the stereotypical leader of the jocks, treating women like objects and everyone else like loyal subjects for him to look down on.

But what Eddie sees now doesn’t match up with those stories at all.

Steve opens the door for the girl with a soft, “After you,” and she brushes past him without a word. When she stumbles on the stairs, he catches her gently by the elbow, murmurs an apology for touching her without warning, and offers his arm for balance the rest of the way.

Eddie blinks. Huh.

They settle into their seats two rows down and directly in front of Eddie.

Of course they do.

The movie doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, not even trailers yet, but Eddie’s already more interested in the Steve Harrington Show than whatever’s going to be on screen. He feels like he’s getting a sneak peek behind the scenes into Steve’s world and it’s nothing like he imagined.

They sit. She shivers under the AC, and Steve immediately shrugs off his jacket and offers it to her. Then he offers to switch seats so she’s not directly under the vent.

Surprisingly, Steve’s the perfect gentleman. He asks about her day, offers her popcorn, and laughs at a joke that leans more mean than funny—though Eddie catches the subtle flicker of discomfort in his posture when she’s not looking.

He compliments her hair and outfit, asks what kind of music she’s into, and even admits to liking '70s rock. It’s something Eddie never expected to hear from him but can’t help respecting. It’s the kind of detail that makes Eddie pause, realizing with a jolt that they might have a few songs in common. And that’s unexpectedly disarming.

Steve even double-checks if she’s sure she’s okay with horror movies, offering to see something else if she’s not.

“Why? Are you scared?” she teases.

“Terrified,” Steve replies with a grin. “But I figured if I screamed, you’d protect me.”

Eddie nearly chokes on a kernel of popcorn.

That was smooth. Like, actually smooth. It wasn’t cocky or rehearsed. It was playful and self-aware. The line showed Steve didn’t take himself too seriously, a refreshing contrast to the image-obsessed popular kids Eddie had grown up resenting. He leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to solve a tricky riff. That line might’ve even worked on him. He’s always been a sucker for someone who knows how to be a little silly without losing sincerity.

“Huh,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his seat, suddenly more invested in this pre-show than the actual movie he’s paid to see.

But then the girl leans in, voice low and suggestive. “I didn’t expect you to take me on a date like this. When I said we should watch a movie, I thought we’d grab one from the rental store and watch it at your place. Or, you know… somewhere more private.”

She walks her fingers up his chest in a way that makes Eddie want to gag.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Here we go.

He braces for the shift; the moment Steve drops the nice guy act and becomes the player everyone says he is. The moment he starts acting like the stereotypical meathead jock who only cares about getting girls into bed and out again before they get too attached. God forbid a straight guy have actual emotions or care about someone beyond the surface.

But it doesn’t come.

“Oh,” Steve says, shoulders going stiff. He takes hold of her hand and moves it away from his chest but holds onto it gently. “I thought we could spend some time together. Get to know each other. This is just our first date, after all, right?”

“I guess.” The girl shrugs. “I just thought you were supposed to be into showing girls a good time. I’ve heard the rumors.”

Steve laughs, but it’s nervous. Hollow. His eyes flick toward the fire exit like he’s considering a tactical retreat.

“Yeah, uh… you don’t need to worry about that,” he says. “I was kind of a mess in junior year. I’ve learned a lot since then. Hookups were fun, sure, but they never really felt good after. I’d rather have something real now.”

“Hmm,” she says, unimpressed and takes her hand back, turning back to the screen.

Eddie frowns. Something about her tone grates on him. Dismissive. Like Steve just offered her a piece of himself and she tossed it aside without looking.

He shifts again, but this time it’s not out of amusement. His smirk is gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and a faint scowl. He watches Steve fumble through the conversation, trying to be honest and vulnerable and getting nothing but attitude in return.

And it bugs him. More than it should.

Maybe it’s because he’s seen too many guys like Steve get away with being jerks. But here’s Steve, trying to be better, trying to be real, and this girl’s treating him like he’s a joke.

Eddie knows what that feels like. To be misunderstood. To have people assume the worst of you based on old stories and high school gossip. And it sits right on his last nerve to watch it happen to someone else.

The conversation shifts.

Not in a dramatic way. There are no raised voices, no sudden outbursts, just a slow, steady unraveling. It’s like watching a thread being pulled loose from a sweater.

The girl starts interrupting Steve. Not just once, but over and over. She talks over him, cuts him off mid-sentence, contradicts him just to do it. When he mentions liking a certain band, she scoffs and says they’re overrated. When he shares a memory about a summer job, she calls it boring.

Eddie watches it all unfold like a car crash in slow motion.

Steve doesn’t snap. Doesn’t even push back. He just absorbs the impact of it. Smiles tightly. Tries to steer the conversation back to neutral ground. He’s patient, too patient. Like he’s used to this and he’s trying not to make a scene.

Eddie’s scowl deepens.

He doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so much. Maybe it’s because he expected Steve to be the problem. Expected him to be the shallow one. But instead, he’s watching Steve try—really try—to be kind, to connect and make something work. And this girl is steamrolling him like he’s not even there.

It’s uncomfortable. And not in the way Eddie usually enjoys.

The lights dim. A hush falls over the theatre. The trailers are about to start.

And then she speaks again.

“Oh wow, look at that,” she says, pointing down toward one of the lower rows. Her voice is just loud enough to carry. “I bet they think no one can see them because the lights are off.”

Eddie follows her gaze.

Two men. Sitting close. Hands intertwined.

Something drops in his stomach.

“Gross, right?” she laughs, looking at Steve for agreement.

The sound is sharp. Ugly. It cuts through the quiet like a knife.

Eddie freezes.

He doesn’t know those guys. Doesn’t need to. Because he knows that feeling. The one where you let yourself believe, just for a second, that you’re safe. That you can be like the people who are allowed to love their partner openly. That you can feel normal, just for one precious moment.

And then someone like her reminds you of exactly what the world thinks of you.

His jaw clenches. His grip tightens on the armrest. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath through his nose and braces himself for the inevitable crushing blow of hearing his straight boy high school crush agree that men who like men are gross.

It doesn’t come.

Eddie cautiously opens his eyes.

Steve doesn’t say anything at first. But Eddie sees the way his shoulders have gone rigid, the way his head has dipped slightly, like he’s trying to disappear into the seat. And that’s when Eddie knows.

This isn’t just secondhand embarrassment. Her comment hit him somewhere deep.

The girl leans in again, not picking up on Steve’s body language silently screaming at her to stop, voice low but still audible. “I mean, it’s just weird, right? Why do they have to do that in public? It’s not like anyone wants to see it.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold.

Steve shifts. His hands curl into fists on his knees. Then, quietly but firmly, he says, “Shut up.”

The girl turns, startled. “Excuse me?”

“I said shut up,” Steve repeats, louder this time. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He watches the girl recoil, stunned, and then scoff like she’s the one who’s been wronged. “What crawled up your ass all of a sudden?”

“They’re just two people who like each other,” Steve says. “They’re trying to enjoy a date. How is that any of your business?”

Eddie’s breath catches.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at the back of Steve Harrington’s head like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

Steve had said something. Not just something, he had stood up - loud and clear and without hesitation - for two strangers. For people like Eddie. Eddie’s heart is pounding, but not from fear this time. It’s something else. Something warmer. Fiercer.

“Because it’s weird.” The girl doubles down,

“You wouldn’t think it was weird if it was those two people over there who were holding hands.” He gestures toward a man and woman sitting together near the front of the theatre.

“That’s different.”

Steve turns to her fully now, eyes sharp. “How?”

“Because it’s two men. It’s wrong. It’s disgusting,” she says. “I’d say the same if it were two women.”

Steve flinches hard, like he’s been physically hit.

There’s a beat of silence. Heavy. Final.

“I’m very close to someone who’s gay. And they’re smarter, kinder, funnier, and better than you’ll ever be,” Steve says, voice low and steady. “This date is over. Don’t bother calling me.” He goes to stand, but the girl shoves him back down and rises from her seat instead.

“You don’t get to walk out on me, I’m walking out on you,” she snaps. “I only came on this stupid date because I was bored, and I thought you’d wanna fool around like you supposedly do with all the other girls anyway. Turns out you’re a disappointment.”

She grabs her purse, mutters something under her breath, and storms out, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Steve doesn’t watch her go. He just stares straight ahead, jaw tight, hands still clenched on his knees.

Eddie swallows hard.

He wants to say something. ‘Thank you for saying that,’ maybe. Or ‘that was brave’. Or even just ‘hey’. But all he can do is stare, stunned and a little breathless, because Steve Harrington just shattered every expectation Eddie ever had of him. And now Eddie’s sitting here while a laundry detergent commercial plays loudly in the background, heart in his throat, wondering how the hell he ever thought he had this guy figured out.

Steve puts his face in his hands and exhales deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down. He seems tired now, defeated. Something about that doesn’t sit right with Eddie after what he just witnessed. It spurs him into action. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just knows he can’t keep sitting there without saying something.

So, he stands. Walks down the steps. And stops at Steve’s row.

Steve hears the footsteps and looks up, startled. His expression flickers—confusion, then recognition, then something like wariness.

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice low. “Mind if I sit?”

His heart is hammering out a beat that would rival the work of the drummers in his favourite metal bands. He’s still mentally preparing himself for this Steve to disappear and be replaced by the jerk that had existed in his brain for the past few years.

Instead, Steve blinks at him, surprised. “Uh… sure? Eddie, right?”

“That’s what all the legends call me,” Eddie confirms, dropping into the seat beside him. There’s a beat of silence. Then he turns to look at Steve and “You okay?”

Steve lets out a breath, a small smile appearing on his face. “Yeah. I mean, not really. But I will be.”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t push. Just lets the quiet settle for a moment. Then he says, “So that was a lot.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Not exactly how I pictured the night going. I assume you heard everything?”

“Yep. She sucked,” Eddie says bluntly.

Steve snorts. “Yeah. She really did.”

Another pause. Eddie shifts, glancing sideways at him. “You didn’t have to say anything,” he says. “But you did.”

Steve shrugs, but there’s tension in his shoulders. “Didn’t feel like a choice.”

“That’s kind of the point, though,” Eddie says. “Most people would’ve just let it slide. Pretended they didn’t hear it. You didn’t.”

Steve’s quiet for a second. Then he says, “I’ve let too much slide before. I’m not doing that anymore.”

Eddie studies him. There’s something in Steve’s voice, something tired, but solid. Like a line’s been drawn and he’s not stepping back from it. And Eddie feels that twist in his chest again. That strange, warm ache.

“I meant every word I said,” Steve adds, softer now. “I have a close friend, more like a platonic soulmate really, who’s gay and the best person I know." He looks wounded. “And hearing someone I put enough trust in to consider dating basically call that person gross and disgusting and wrong... I couldn’t just sit here and listen to that crap.” His fists clench. “It’s one thing if it’s me she’s saying those things about but-”

He turns to face Eddie, his eyes wide and hands shaking as he realises the implications of what he said.

And Eddie knows that feeling.

He’s worn that same expression before. In locker rooms. In hallways. In classrooms where someone said something cruel under their breath and everyone else just laughed. But Steve Harrington? King Steve? He’s not supposed to know what that feels like.

Except he does.

Eddie nods slowly. “It’s okay. I figured.” He admits as casually as possible to try and ease Steve’s panic, although he’s still reeling over the events of the past few minutes. “You’re safe with me,” he promises.

Steve’s tense shoulders deflate, and glances at him curiously. “You?”

Eddie meets his eyes. “Yeah. Me.”

There’s no shock in Steve’s face. No judgment. Just a quiet kind of understanding.

“Cool,” Steve says. And he means it.

Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Then he grins, crooked and a little shy.

“You know,” he says, “you’re not what I expected.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re kind of a dork from the bits of conversation I overheard before things went bad.”

Steve laughs, and it’s real this time. “Takes one to know one.”

They sit in silence for a moment longer, their eyes lingering on each other, then Steve fully relaxes into his seat and turns to face the screen. “Well, no sense in wasting my ticket,” he says, then he holds his popcorn bucket out to Eddie, who’s only just realised he left his behind. “Wanna share?”

Eddie grins and grabs a handful. “Thought you’d never ask.”

—————————

It’s the most fun Eddie’s had in a while.

Steve leans into his space every now and then, whispering snarky commentary about the characters’ terrible decisions and even worse fashion choices. He especially tears into the asshole jock character, which catches Eddie off guard in the best way.

Eddie starts leaning in too, throwing in his own jabs, and before long, they’re trading quips like they’ve done this a hundred times before. At one point, one of them says something so ridiculous that they both dissolve into laughter. It’s the kind that’s breathless and uncontrollable.

Someone turns around and shushes them, loud and annoyed.

They immediately straighten, whispering apologies like guilty schoolkids. But the second the person turns back around, they catch each other’s eyes and grin, barely holding back another round of hysterics.

Steve nudges Eddie’s shoulder with his own, playful and warm.

Eddie nudges back.

If the small, friendly gesture sends goosebumps up his arms, well—that’s for Eddie to know and nobody else to find out.

Then, near the end of the film, the tension ramps up. The music swells. Eddie’s leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowed, when a sudden jumpscare hits and Steve gasps. Before Eddie can even register what’s happening, a larger, warmer hand grabs his.

Eddie freezes.

Not because he’s scared of the movie—though the jumpscare was decent—but because Steve Harrington is holding his hand.

Tightly.

Warm fingers wrapped around his own, palm pressed flush against his. It’s instinctive, a reflex, but Steve doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it at first.

Eddie doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He’s not sure if it’s the shock or the fact that his heart is currently trying to beat its way out of his chest, but he’s rooted to the spot.

Then Steve seems to realize what he’s done. His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he glances sideways, eyes wide, a little sheepish.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Eddie turns his head slowly, meets his gaze. Steve’s face is flushed, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and apologetic. Eddie could make a joke. He could laugh it off, tease him.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he gives Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You can hold on if you want.”

Steve blinks. His eyes search Eddie’s face for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s serious. Then he smiles, small, grateful and a little shy. It warms Eddie to his very core.

He doesn’t let go.

They sit like that for the rest of the movie. Their shoulders brushing, hands clasped between them and fingers intertwined, the flickering light from the screen casting soft shadows across their faces. Eddie doesn’t even remember how the movie ends, but he remembers the way Steve’s thumb brushed lightly over his when the final girl shared a kiss with her love interest.

And he knows, without a doubt, that something’s changed and shifted between them. It’s something small, but at the same time monumental.

As the lights come up, Steve sighs. He gives Eddie’s hand one last squeeze before letting go and standing to stretch. Eddie’s hand falls to his lap, suddenly cold, and he stares at it for a second like it might still remember the shape of Steve’s fingers.

He already misses the warmth. The weight. The quiet reassurance of it.

“Did you drive here?” Steve asks suddenly.

Eddie blinks, caught off guard. He expected this to be the end. He expected they would just awkwardly part ways in silence after this, try to lose each other in the small crowd exiting the theatre and then avoid each other for the most part. Maybe they would share a nod or a half-smile the next time he wandered into Family Video, but that’s all Eddie had hoped for.

He hadn’t hoped for this, for Steve waiting for Eddie to stand too, still looking at him like he wants to keep talking.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says. “My van’s out back.”

Steve nods. “Cool. I parked a few rows over. You wanna walk out together?”

Eddie’s heart stutters. He stands slowly, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

They fall into step as they exit the theatre, the buzz of the credits still echoing faintly behind them. The lobby is mostly empty now, just a few stragglers and the hum of vending machines. Outside, the night air is cool and quiet, the parking lot bathed in soft yellow light.

For a moment, neither of them says anything.

Then Steve glances over, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “Thanks for sitting with me. I didn’t expect… well, any of this.”

Eddie shrugs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me neither. But I’m glad I did.”

Steve smiles back, and it’s that same small, shy one from earlier. It makes Eddie feel like he’s standing too close to a bonfire, especially now with the glow of the streetlights illuminating Steve’s features. They reach the edge of the lot where their cars are parked a few rows apart. Eddie slows, not quite ready to say goodbye.

Steve hesitates too. Then, almost nervously, he says, “Hey, uh… are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, slower this time, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Steve’s face lights up, just a little. “There’s a diner a few blocks from here. It’s not fancy, but they’ve got decent fries and terrible coffee.”

“Sounds perfect. Lead the way, sweetheart.”

The pet name's out before Eddie can stop it.

His brain short-circuits the second it leaves his mouth. His eyes go wide, and he immediately wants to rewind time, shove the word back down his throat, and pretend it never happened.

Shit.

He curses himself silently. Nicknames have always slipped out like second nature around his friends, bandmates, even the occasional stranger. But this? This is Steve. And this moment feels different. More fragile. More real.

He risks a glance at Steve, fully expecting confusion, maybe discomfort.

But Steve’s just looking at him with that same soft smile. A little surprised, sure, but not upset. If anything, he looks… pleased?

“Sweetheart, huh?” Steve says, raising an eyebrow, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

Eddie lets out a breathy, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a reflex. I swear. I’ve called random people on the street ‘darlin’ and the guy working the counter at the gas station ‘babe’ before now.”

Steve hums, clearly amused. “Didn’t say I minded. But now I’m a little jealous of the guy at the gas station.”

Eddie blinks. “You didn’t? …You are?”

“Nope, not at all. And yeah, I am.” Steve starts walking, hands in his pockets, glancing back over his shoulder with an exaggerated pout. “Thought I might’ve been special for a second there.”

Eddie wants to kiss that look right off his face, but he reels that thought in fast. Steve’s probably just joking. Just sharing friendly banter with a guy he knows won’t hurt him for it. Who is Eddie to deny him that experience or make it awkward by assigning a deeper meaning to it?

“What can I say, Steve?” he shrugs. “The man sometimes gives me discounts on my favourite brand of cigarette. How can you compete with that?”

Steve bites his lip, clearly trying to stifle a smile. Eddie’s eyes lock on his mouth.

“I can think of a few ways,” Steve says, voice low, suggestive and just a little nervous as he sways into Eddie’s space. He gets close, so close Eddie’s stomach swoops.

Then a devilish grin curls at the corner of Steve’s lips.

“Last one to the diner pays.”

“Wha—” Eddie starts, dazed.

But Steve’s already taken off running, his laughter echoing behind him.

“Hey! That’s no fucking fair! You’re rich!” Eddie shouts, already breaking into a sprint.

Steve turns, running backward for a second just to flash him a grin. “Better catch up to me then!”

Eddie cackles, wild and breathless, as he chases after him. He sees the moment Steve realizes he’s gaining fast and the flicker of panic that crosses his face. Steve hadn’t counted on the fact that Eddie Munson has years of experience running from trouble.

Trying to push his legs to work faster turns out to be a fruitless effort for Steve because Eddie manages to catch him around the waist and spin him away from the front door of the diner just as he’s about to reach for the handle. They almost end up sprawled on the ground together from the momentum of it, but Steve manages to grasp Eddie’s forearms and fix their footing as the metalhead leans against his back and laughs uncontrollably.

They stand there for a second, tangled up in each other, catching their breath. Eddie leans into him, still chuckling, and Steve can’t help but laugh too, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and giddy.

“You’re fast,” Steve says, glancing over his shoulder.

“You’re slow,” Eddie counters, grinning like he’s won the lottery.

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. “You tackled me.”

“I redirected you,” Eddie says, mock-offended. “With grace.”

Steve turns in his grip, still holding onto Eddie’s arms, and they’re suddenly face to face. Close. Closer than they’ve been all night. The laughter fades into something quieter, softer.

Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve’s mouth for just a second. Steve notices.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moves.

Then the diner door swings open behind them with a loud ding, and a couple walks out, chatting loudly and breaking the moment. Eddie steps back, clearing his throat. “Guess we should, uh… go inside before they run out of terrible coffee.”

Steve nods, still smiling. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

————————

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re basically a single parent to six?”

They’re sat in a booth in the back corner, chatting animatedly and occasionally stealing each other’s fries even though they got exactly the same thing. They’d foregone the crappy coffee for milkshakes though, Steve’s strawberry and Eddie’s chocolate.

“Seven if you count Erica, Lucas’ little sister,” Steve corrects him. “But jury’s still out on whether she’s actually a child or whether Lucas is just living with the consequences of feeding a mogwai after midnight.”

“God you are such a nerd,” Eddie laughs, delighted. “’Mogwai’? You didn’t even use the incorrect term - ‘gremlin’ - like most people would. You just went straight in there with ‘mogwai’.”

Steve grins, clearly pleased with himself. “What can I say? I take my pop culture references seriously.”

Eddie leans back in the booth, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re a walking contradiction, Steve. You look like you should be quarterbacking some all-American football team, but you talk like you’ve got the entire catalogue of Family Video memorised.”

Steve sips his milkshake, eyes twinkling. “Maybe I do.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Steve shrugs, all faux-casual. “You’ll have to hang out with me again to find out.”

Eddie’s caught off guard for a second, not by the words, but by the way Steve says them. Like it’s not a joke. Like he means it. Eddie, who’s spent most of his life waiting for the other shoe to drop, finds himself hoping just a little that maybe this time it won’t.

He smiles, softer now. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how does King of the jocks and certified lady-killer Steve Harrington become an actually decent and interesting guy with a brood of little lost ducklings?”

Steve leans back in the booth, fingers idly tracing the condensation on his milkshake glass.

“It’s a long story, but I guess I just got tired of pretending I wanted the same things I used to,” he says. “Back in high school, it was all about the image. The parties, the girls, the reputation. I thought that was what I was supposed to want. What everyone expected from me.”

Eddie watches him, the teasing gone from his expression.

“But somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t want to keep chasing something that never really made me feel good. I started figuring out that what I actually want is something that feels real. Something that lasts.”

He glances up, meets Eddie’s eyes. There’s something open in his expression. It’s unguarded, but cautious. Eddie’s heart does something strange in his chest, tightens and softens all at once. He reminds himself that shouldn’t be reading into things; Steve might just be getting used to having someone he can talk to about all this.

He nods slowly, voice quiet. “Yeah. I get that.”

They share a soft, secret smile.

“So,” Steve says. “You like metal, right? I don’t think I’ve ever listened to that before. What do you like about it?”

It’s a hard pivot in the topic of conversation, but Eddie allows it. Mostly because the fact that Steve seems to realise how important music is to Eddie and makes a point to ask him about it. Eddie’s eyes light up at the question, and he sits up a little straighter.

“Oh man, where do I even start?” he says, grinning. “Okay, so it’s loud, it’s chaotic. But it’s also honest. It doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. It’s raw and messy and emotional, and it doesn’t apologise for any of it.”

Steve watches him, chin propped on one hand, milkshake forgotten for the moment.

Eddie continues, more animated now. “And a lot of the songs are about overcoming adversity. About going through hell and somehow still fighting and persevering. It’s about taking back power when the world is trying to crush you. It makes me feel confident for a change, like I could take on anything. And people complain that it’s just noise but that’s so far from the truth. It takes so much talent and years of dedication and-”

He pauses, his eyes flicking to Steve’s, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

Steve shakes his head, smiling. “No, I like it. You talk about it like it’s more than just music.”

“It is,” Eddie shrugs, a little sheepish. “It kind of saved my life, y’know? When everything else felt like it was falling apart and I had nowhere I belonged, metal was the one place I could just be and feel accepted. No masks. No pretending.”

Steve’s expression softens. “That makes sense.”

There’s a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, just full. Like the air’s thick with things unsaid but understood. Then Steve leans forward, a playful glint in his eye. “So, if I wanted to dip my toe into the world of metal, where would I start? What’s, like, the gateway drug?”

“Really? You want to give up your metal virginity?”

“Didn’t have to put it like that,” Steve says, his face scrunching up in a way that’s far too cute to do anything good for Eddie’s heart.

“Okay, you’re coming over to my trailer as soon as possible and I’m going to play you some songs. I’m already mentally writing a list. This is gonna be so good.” Eddie laughs ecstatically and rubs his hands together deviously. “We’ll make a metalhead out of you yet, Steve.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Steve replies, his expression so open and honest that it gives Eddie pause.

Eddie’s demeanor turns softer. “You don’t have to like it though, y’know. I won’t be offended.”

“I know,” Steve meets his gaze, steady. “I want to understand the things that matter to you.”

Eddie’s caught off guard again. His heart does that weird fluttery thing, and he has to look away before he says something stupid.

“Cool,” he says, voice a little rough. “Yeah. Cool.”

They go back to their fries, the silence between them now warm and companionable. Outside, the neon sign of the diner flickers softly, casting pink and blue shadows across the table.

——————————

The bell chimes above their heads and a nice, middle-aged lady calls out a, “Thank you for coming, be sure to get home safe,” as Eddie holds the door open for Steve and they step back out into the cold night air.

Steve sidles up next to him. “Thank you for getting the door for me, Sweetheart,” he says, teasing.

Eddie groans loudly. “You are not going to let me forget about that, are you?"

“Never,” Steve beams.

They settle into a comfortable silence as they walk. Their shoulders touch once, then again, and neither of them moves away. Their hands are so close that they constantly brush against each other and it’s driving Eddie mad. All he would have to do is reach out a little and he could be holding Steve’s hand again. He isn’t able to summon the courage for that because he’s still not quite sure if Steve feels anything more than a budding sense of friendship toward him.

They walk in step down the quiet street, the night air crisp and laced with the scent of damp pavement and distant woodsmoke. The town is mostly asleep, windows glowing softly in the distance, the occasional car humming by like a lullaby.

Their hands brush again. This time, Steve doesn’t pull away. In fact, he lets his fingers linger just a second longer than before. Eddie’s heart stutters.

He swallows. “Hey, uh… you don’t have to say yes or anything, but would you ever want to come to a show sometime, like one of the local gigs I play or even just hang out while I practice? Hear some live music.”

Steve looks over at him, eyes warm. “I’d love that.”

Eddie blinks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I want to see you in your element. I bet you look cool as hell on stage.”

Eddie laughs, a little breathless. “I mean, I do, obviously. But I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

They stop next to Eddie’s van. Neither of them moves to leave just yet.

Steve rocks on his heels. “Thanks for tonight. I had more fun than I probably had in years if I’m being honest.”

Eddie nods, his voice soft. “Yeah. Me too.”

There’s a pause. Neither of them moves.

Then Steve clears his throat and pulls one hand free, fishing around in his back pocket. “Before I forget,” He pulls out a pen and the crumpled diner receipt, scribbles something down, and hands it to Eddie. “My number. For whenever you want to hang out or just talk.”

Eddie takes it, fingers brushing Steve’s. He looks down at the messy scrawl of digits, then back up, heart thudding. “Thank you. I’ll definitely call you to set something up soon, and let you know as soon as I know when the next gig’s going to be.”

“Cool, I can’t wait,” Steve smiles.

He hesitates for a second, then steps a little closer, his gaze drifting to Eddie’s lips. “Also, I’ve been thinking about doing this all night.”

Eddie barely has time to process that before Steve leans in and kisses him.

The kiss is soft and tentative at first, like a question asked in a language neither of them is fluent in yet. Steve’s lips brush against Eddie’s with a kind of reverence, like he’s afraid to push too far, too fast. But Eddie’s breath catches, and instinct takes over. He leans in, closing the distance, answering the question with a quiet certainty.

His hands find their way to Steve’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket like they’ve always belonged there. Steve’s hands hover for a moment before settling gently on Eddie’s shoulders, grounding them both.

The world fades. The cold night air, the hum of a distant streetlamp, the faint creak of the van’s metal frame, all of it disappears. It’s just them. Just this.

Steve tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and Eddie feels it like a spark down his spine. It’s still gentle, still careful, but there’s something more now. It’s something that says ‘I see you’ and ‘I want this’. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

When they finally part, it’s slow, reluctant. Steve’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at Eddie like he’s trying to memorize every detail of his face.

“Was that okay?” Steve asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie blinks, dazed, lips tingling, heart pounding. Then he grins, wide and a little breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, that was more than okay.”

Steve lets out a soft laugh, relief blooming across his face. “Good.”

They linger there, close enough to feel each other’s breath in the space between them. Steve leans in again, slower this time, and kisses him once more. It’s just as soft and just as sure. It’s the kind of kiss that says this isn’t a one-time thing.

“I’ll call you,” Eddie says, still smiling as they hesitantly move away from each other. “God, it might even be as soon as I get home after a kiss like that.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Steve replies, stepping back slowly, like he’s reluctant to go.

Eddie watches him walk away, heart pounding, fingers still curled around the scrap of paper like it’s something precious.

Steve turns back to face him and, he’s smiling, nervous, but genuine. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie’s frozen for a second, then grins, wide and a little dazed. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

They part ways, both of them feeling a little lighter than before.

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie walks into his house after a three-day work trip in NYC to find…..a lot of boxes.

Most of them cardboard, most of them labeled DONATE or TRASH or GARAGE in Steve’s familiar handwriting.

“Oh, jeez,” Eddie mutters, because he knows what this is. Sure enough, he follows a trail of boxes upstairs to find the rest of his family in his youngest daughter Hazel’s room.

“Spring cleaning?” Eddie asks.

“Spring cleaning,” Moe says with an affirmative nod.

“Just Hazel’s room?” he asks, because Moe and Robbie are looking awfully comfortable sitting on Hazel’s bed while Hazel herself is rummaging through a back corner of her jam-packed closet, Steve watching over her shoulder with his hands on his hips.

“Uh, well, Moe ‘doesn’t do clutter’,” Steve says as he looks over at Eddie, “and therefore is exempt, apparently, and Robbie’s room gives me a migraine.”

“Plus,” Moe cuts in, “Robbie’s room is all clutter. If we get rid of it all, she'd have no personality left.”

“Hey,” Robbie says, jabbing her elbow into Moe's side, “Don’t be rude.”

Steve gives Eddie a do you see what I’m dealing with kind of look as Hazel finally emerges from her closet. 

“Dad, do you want this?” Hazel asks, holding out a very small, dog-shaped notebook with a comically large spiral binding that she probably acquired when she was in elementary school, “For writing or whatever?”

“Uh…”

“Just say yes so I can move some shit out of here,” Steve mutters, so Eddie takes the notebook from Hazel, and as soon as she was turning back to her closet, Steve took it from him and tossed it into the ‘Donate’ box in the hallway.

A moment later, Hazel emerged again, turning around to show everyone two plastic lawn flamingos (mismatched, Eddie notes).

“Thoughts?” she asked.

“Hon, those don’t even match,” Steve says (and he sounds all beleaguered and everything as if all this wasn’t his crusade to begin with), “They’re two totally different shades of pink.”

“Well, did you know that they’re actually white when they’re born? And then they eat mostly shrimp and that’s how they turn pink.”

Steve just stares at her for a moment, “Okay, Haze, those are plastic.”

“You should keep those,” Moe said, “Genuinely they’re, like, decor. You can put them somewhere.”

They spend a few minutes watching Hazel precariously balance the flamingos’ spindly legs on top of her bookshelf, but it doesn't take long for something else to catch Steve's eye.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, jutting his chin in the direction of something on an open shelf of Hazel’s dresser.

Hazel fetches a plastic Starbucks cup with a dozen or so dusty rocks inside.

“They’re rocks,” Hazel points out, “From when we went to the Grand Canyon.”

“Okay…” Steve says slowly, “Do they have to be in your sock drawer?”

“Why don’t you put them on your windowsill?” Robbie suggests, “You can charge the rocks, like, spiritually.”

“Oh yeah, there’s an idea,” Steve comments, but Hazel is already halfway to the window. Still, she pauses, and then turns back to face them.

“Do you think they miss their home?” she asks.

“What?” Steve looks at her.

“In the Grand Canyon?”

“Oh, Hazel,” Steve sighs.

“We could try to ship them back,” Moe suggests.

“None of you are helping.”

[livwritesstuff]

Actor!Steve and Singer!Eddie AU where they have some sort of rivalry going on. But, here’s the thing, the whole thing is made up by the press.

It starts when a reporter, during an interview, asks Steve what kind of music he listens to in his free time. Steve names a few artists, mostly pop with a few classic rock bands in between, which leads the reporter to ask if he’s a Corroded Coffin fan. They’re not classic rock, but they sure as hell are popular, but Steve just looks at the reporter and says, “never heard of them in my life.”

And he honestly hasn’t! But the press gets this out of context and of course Corroded Coffin fans are pretty pissed off, offended that someone as famous as actor Steve Harrington, king of period drama shows and romcom movies, is belittling their beloved band like that.

Another reporter, then, after a concert, asks Eddie what he thinks about Steve Harrington’s last interview, where he basically says Corroded Coffin’s music is shit, and Eddie just says, “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

And he also hasn’t! Because they have been on tour for months, then they were working on new songs, and it’s been at least five fucking years since Eddie had enough spare time to watch a show. He’s also no fan of romcoms or period dramas, so even if he had had the time, there was no way he’d have watched anything Steve was in.

That’s enough for the press to go wild with stories about disagreements that never really happened and thousands, maybe millions, of people on the internet discussing Steve and Eddie’s rivalry and distaste for each other.

Neither Steve nor Eddie tries to explain the whole misunderstanding because, really, they both think it’s so funny how so many people are buying all this crap. Tabloids talk so often about their ‘rivalry’ that Steve does end up listening to Corroded Coffin and enjoys them a lot; he adds lots of their songs to his playlists. And Eddie finally caves and starts watching one of Steve’s period drama shows; he gets pretty addicted to them, and Steve is hot as hell, so that’s kind of a bonus.

One day, a couple of months after this started, Steve is scrolling his feed and sees a post on a gossip page about someone who said they heard someone telling some other person that they heard Eddie Munson threatening to beat Steve Harrington up if the actor didn’t stop saying shit about his music. The post is so obviously lying that Steve spends a good five minutes laughing. Then, on a whim, he DMs it to Eddie’s official page, with a message attached saying “Just please don’t beat up my face, I need it for work”.

Ten minutes later Eddie replies by sending a second post, this one also from a gossip page that claims their sources might have overheard Steve Harrington saying to his friends that Eddie Munson’s hair is the worst thing he’s ever laid eyes on, followed by a message saying “Sorry, but nobody says shit about my hair. It's hard work making these curls look so good.”

That’s how Eddie and Steve start talking, first just sending each other posts and articles they find funny about their made up rivalry. Somehow, this evolves into an actual conversation about other stuff, like their works, their lives, themselves.

They never really stop messaging each other, their weird work hours and busy schedules preventing them from actually meeting, even though they are dying to.

Then, four months into their unexpected friendship, Steve is in New York shooting a new romcom and Corroded Coffin is expected to play on a charity event there as well. And that’s how Steve and Eddie finally meet; at 1 a.m., on a Thursday, just after Steve wraps up shooting his new movie and Eddie finishes rehearsing for the concert he’s playing the next day. They go out for pizza, even though is freezing outside and they’re both tired as fuck.

The press and their fans are in shock when, a couple of months later, their official accounts announce, on a joint post, that Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are happily dating and planning on going on an extended vacation together as soon as Corroded Coffin wraps up their tour. The couple also asks for people to respect their privacy and states that they don’t intend to give any interviews to discuss their relationship.

They spend the whole vacation laughing over the hundreds of posts and reaction videos their friends send them daily.

[livwritesstuff]

Routine Hang Out

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Drinking Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Hurt With Minor Comfort, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Internalized Homophobia, Drunk Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Eddie Munson, Plot Twist, Ambiguous Ending What if we gave Eddie Munson internalized homophobia as a little treat?

💔—————💔 Steve’s two beers deep on the Munson couch. And Eddie’s next to him even more wasted; three beers, a couple shots of vodka, and the last quarter of a joint from a different time they hung out all swimming in his system. They’re watching some…some movie, it’s unclear which one it is in the slow to glaze vision he’s sporting. All he knows is this: the couch is sinking slowly under both their heavy bodies, Wayne should probably get somebody to fix the leak in the trailer’s bathroom, and Eddie’s extremely clingy when inebriated. Not that that’s a bad thing, per se, just…unexpected.

Maybe he should’ve expected Eddie to be flopping all over the place. Considering how easy it was for the guy to lean into his space in the Upside Down, quirk his dimpled grin, flash his crazy eyes, and laugh around raspy, tired breaths. Shockingly, it was easy to let him. To have Eddie in his space. To joke and poke and tease. If anything, Steve’s only continued to bring that energy to their hang-outs; though, now that they’re around each other more, he’s come to notice that Eddie doesn’t casually enter Steve’s space or joke or tease or…whatever else he fancies doing. No, Eddie would rather sit as far as possible, and snark rather than smirk.

With the alcohol, Eddie’s come right back to square one.

Currently, there’s a hand on Steve’s right cheek. Thumb working into his skin. Tracing it down the edge of his face.

Slurred, “You’ve got such a nice face,” Eddie comments.

He snorts. “Eds, you’ve already said that, like, four times.”

“It’s true!” And that’s another thing about Eddie—when he’s wasted, he gets a little too loud. Not enough to really cause a scene, but just enough to make the wall vibrate. “God, I could look at you all day.”

“Feels like you have been.” Steve gently circles his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. Sweeps his thumb in the little dip where a pulse point sits. “How about we get some food and water in your system? Maybe go to bed?”

Eddie sighs, pulling forward into Steve’s shoulder. His forehead rests. And then he groans, pushing himself back up. All the while, keeping a heavy, steady hand on Steve’s cheek. “No,” he whines. “I wanna keep looking at you…like…like so bad.” His other hand comes up, sweeping back some of Steve’s stubborn hair. Holding his bangs in place. Eddie smiles, small and adoring. “Did you know…”—hic—“…know that you are so pretty?”

Something churns in Steve’s stomach.

Sour and alive and sickly.

“Ed,” he sighs. “C’mon, man, don’t…don’t say stuff like that.” Not that he particularly wants it to stop. Just…

If he keeps hearing just how pretty he is, it’s going to get his hopes up.

It was a hard thing to conclude. How much he’s really invested and infatuated and at the ready for Eddie. All the things he’d do for him. Waive a late fee at Family Video, take him out for food, odd jobs around the trailer, be at his side during physical therapy or recovery, take a trip around the moon to gather the rocks Eddie can’t pocket, and stop the world for them to remain frozen in time—right next to each other, stitched at the sides.

He loves Eddie.

But he can’t say that right now.

“Let’s just get you to bed, Eddie,” Steve says, more pressure under the words. “Then you’ll be right back to normal in the morning. I’ll make us eggs for breakfast, you can brew some coffee, and we’ll ride on over to the video store to return the movie and VCR—alright?”

Eddie releases Steve’s bangs from the top of his head. Clumsily, he points out his right index finger, and boops the tip of Steve’s nose. Squishing it with pure determination. “I want you to stay right here,” he husks. It’s almost flirtatious. Low enough, but melancholic instead of sultry. “Don’t…don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve frowns in confusion. “I’m not going anywhere, man. I’ll be right where I always am when I stay the night, yeah? On the couch, waiting for you to wake up in the morning.” He licks his lips, stutters his breath when Eddie follows the motion. “You’re just very drunk right now and feeling a little bad, okay? Get on up with me and we can make you feel better.”

It takes some more resistance, but Eddie finally concedes, standing heavily against Steve’s side once off the couch. One slow step at a time, they get to the back bedroom. Where, gently, he plops Eddie down onto the bed.

He takes the extra time to help Eddie lay on his side. Tuck the blanket around him. Set out a mop bucket just in case. Water on the nightstand, next to the lamp he leaves on—just as he does every night they hang out; it’s the same routine.

When he smooths his hands over the top of the blanket again, Steve slows extremely in his tracks.

Eddie’s looking at him. Wide eyed and glossy. Breathing gently. Tracking. One of his hands comes up out of the blanket, latching itself to Steve’s left forearm.

He steadies himself with a deep breath. Then, “You need something, Eds?” Steve murmurs.

The thumb on his arm sweeps.

“Can you sit with me?”

Steve, without a second thought, sits down on the edge of the bed, facing Eddie. Cautiously, he reaches up and places a hand in Eddie’s hair. Combing through it gently. “Everything alright?”

Eddie shrugs tightly. “I think so.”

“You having nightmares again? I can stay in the room tonight if you need me to.”

“No,” Eddie whispers. “I just…just feel—different.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Because what does that mean? Of course Eddie’s different he’s…Eddie! The whole wild card character, his big eyes, every little thing he takes apart and nitpicks. How he interacts with others. How he usually accepts others. Nobody else in Hawkins lives like Eddie does—courageously, somehow even free.

“Steve?”

He hums in question.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Do you think you’re sick? I could find a thermometer around here, check your temperature? I could maybe grab some Pepto”—

Eddie groans. Long and garbled and rough. “Being around you feels…feels…impossible sometimes,” he confesses, still slurring—heavy and distraught. “One moment, you’re my friend. And the next…”

Confused once more, Steve can only furrow his eyebrows. “What are you saying”—

“I wish that you were a girl,” Eddie harshly sobs out. There are fast falling tears smearing down his cheeks. Steve didn’t even notice they were there to begin with. But they won’t stop. And Eddie’s face goes blotchy in distress. “I wish…I wish you were a girl and I could…then I could—It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to be”—

“Ed,” Steve interrupts softly, “I think you should close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“But I”—

He shakes his head. Hates the way something dark shutters in Eddie’s gaze. “We can’t…I can’t talk about this right now, Eds. It’s not the right time.”

Eddie sniffles. Pouts. “What the fuck do you know about right time and”—

Voice croaking, “Maybe I have feelings, too,” Steve miserably admits. His throat hot and pinched with oncoming tears. “And I know they’re right for me, but I can’t walk you through this. I can’t…I can’t help you this time, Eds. I can’t tell you who you are.” Reluctantly, even though Eddie tries to grab back for him, Steve removes his hand from where it’s petting. “But if you were a certain way, Eds, it wouldn’t be wrong. It’s not wrong. I know it’s not wrong.” He folds his hands in his lap, fidgeting loosely with his fingers. And casts his stare just off of Eddie’s face. Quietly, “When you’re sober and you’ve spared some thought to it, then come find me. For now, I just want to be a friend. I want to support you. But you’re also breaking my heart.”

“I am?” Eddie chokes out. “‘M sorry, Stevie…’m so sorry.”

Even though it’s going to hurt more, Steve ends up reaching out again. Touching Eddie’s heated face. Caressing him, swiping away the tears, holding onto him. “Hey,” he coos, “hey, it’s okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose with his spare hand, and lets out a quick, shuttering breath. Shakes his head, sucks on his teeth, sighs. “I’m gonna be okay, I promise. It’s just that I…I…”—be brave, he tells himself, you just gotta be brave—“…I love you so much, Eddie. It hurts right now, hearing you say stuff like that. But I know you’re just…you’re figuring stuff out for yourself. And that takes time. And I’m gonna be right here with you…for you.”

“But what if I never figure it out, Stevie? I’m…I’m broken. I…I can’t feel this way. Not a-about you.”

Steve quirks a small, sad smile. “You’re not broken,” he murmurs, “you’re different, like you said. And that’s completely okay. It’s also okay if you don’t figure anything out. I love just being your friend.” He pats his thumb along Eddie’s under-eye. Lets him tilt into the hold. “I love you, no matter what,” Steve whispers, “even if all we are to each other is just friends. I’m still gonna love you.”

Against the fresh, broken, wet sobs from Eddie’s mouth, Steve closes his eyes, turns his head down, and tries to put himself anywhere else.

In another version of himself, Steve would’ve left fifteen minutes ago. He would’ve chugged down a couple glasses of water, grabbed his keys from the coffee table, and left Eddie to sober up on his own. The front door would’ve hit his backside. Stairs creaking as he stepped upon them, drifting farther and farther away from the blood to his beating heart. Drove himself—home, he doesn’t know, aimlessly almost sounds better. And maybe he’d go and drown himself in more booze—something stronger and darker and more bitter—and choked on his bile swirled saliva, sprayed puke from his nostrils the following morning, forgotten all about the fiasco that was this night before.

But he’s not that guy.

And he’s always loved too hard.

His heart still beats even when his chest hurts. And his soul still sings even when his throat closes up. He still touches and he still feels and he still loves. That’s his problem—oh, how he loves Eddie.

The safety and warmth that comes with somebody who just gets it. With somebody in similar age, in large personality and quirks. Somebody he can riff off of, tease with his words and scoff with his eyes and still find themselves laughing with one another—rather than at one another. He hasn’t felt a connection like this since meeting Tommy Hagan in the second grade; but he doesn’t want a connection like that…especially if it means the same fate as before.

He can’t lose Eddie. And he knows how to keep to himself, how to yearn from a distance, how to bite his own clumsy tongue. Steve knows the limits he possesses, yet how to burst and cross them. He can flirt, he can bitch, he can close up and keep to himself. He can be anything Eddie needs him to be: the bumbling idiot of a best friend, the charming boyfriend who doesn’t know when to let up, the last minute reservation when all the other restaurants closed, the friend you only see at reunions and by happenstance at the bar.

Tonight, he can be the one to comfort. And, sneaky as he’s claimed to be, Steve can keep a secret.

It’ll be just like any other night they hang out.

Eddie gets too clingy, too inebriated, too clumsy. And Steve keeps an eye out, helps them to the bed, leaves out the puke bucket, serves breakfast in the morning.

By the time the sun meets them through the windows, Eddie will have forgotten the night before. Just as he does every time.

But Eddie doesn’t know that.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he had confessed to Steve four nights ago.

“Something about you just feels right,” Eddie had said around a tipsy-happy smile.

“I’d kiss you if I could,” and that was whispered just last night.

If he could change to make Eddie feel safer, Steve would do it in a heartbeat.

Even if that means not being himself. Be a woman or something, whatever that really entails. Nancy and Robin would probably tell him it’s…anti-feminist to try and fit a stereotype. But he would do it anyway.

He’d do anything for Eddie to say those words in the daytime. To touch Steve. To want him in all these carnal, late night craving sort of ways. For Eddie to wrap himself along Steve’s back as breakfast is sizzling on the stovetop. Slow dancing to Etta James records that Eddie only breaks out when he’s feeling particularly emotional while drunk; clumsy feet trying to keep pace on the carpet, in the dark, syrup stuck to each other’s souls.

Steve can keep a secret.

No matter how much it’s killing him to keep quiet.

Not even Robin knows.

Tonight, he is still quiet. With his hand warming Eddie’s cheek. Drying his tears. Soothing him to sleep.

With snores muffled under the blanket, puffs of air hitting Steve’s fingertips, he remains glued to the edge of Eddie’s bed. Right where he remains, as he has for weeks on end now, every single time he’s asked to sit down. Watching the same alcohol soaked memory sleep soundly by the amber glow of a giving out lamp and tucked securely by Steve’s own handiwork.

He should head out to the couch. Wrap himself in a scratchy throw. Move to the recliner when Wayne’s ready to get the fold-out. Just as the original plans when they first started hanging out one on one.

Instead, though, he cautiously maneuvers around Eddie. Lays himself between the rise and fall of a warm back and the cold press of a bumpy wall. Keeps his arms and hands tucked into himself. And he closes his eyes—thinking of an alternate world where Eddie feels safe to completely give himself to his truth.

Even if he never does, Steve will remain tucked against the wall.

Cold against his spine. Stomach turning with sick and want and sore hope. He’ll be the battered copy of a book people are too scared to read—in fear the pages will tear. Just the same paperback, wrinkled with signs of reading, yellowing with years of just enough love to keep the words fresh. And maybe those words will be enough to help the both of them sleep, just a little while longer, just until the bedside lightbulb burns clear out.

💔—————💔