#Eddie Munson is a mess

[sidekick-hero]

Blinded by you

(steddie | 2.1k | rated T | silly fluff | AO3 Link)

There are a few simple truths in Eddie Munson’s life.

Jeff Hanneman is the best guitarist in the world. Mac’n’Cheese counts as a balanced meal. He’s the least organized person he knows.

It’s the last one that gets him into trouble the most. He knows it. He tries to be better. But he can’t help it that his brain is usually all over the place. There are too many thoughts in his head to keep track of them. If he doesn’t write it down, it won’t be happening.

He should have written it down. Uncle Wayne, 10am, breakfast. It’s the first time his uncle visits him at his new apartment. Which is great and all, he’s proud that he found his this place and manages on his own.

Only problem is: he may have forgotten to clean the place.

Now it’s 2 in the morning and he just remembered that in about 8 hours, his uncle will arrive and be faced with what only could be described as a mess.

So, Eddie does the most logical thing that comes to his mind: he cleans the shower.

The showerhead is covered in limescale and Eddie wonders how he even managed to shower this morning. Did he shower this morning? He sniffs under his armpit and decides that no, he definitely didn't shower this morning.

He takes off his clothes and gets the bleach from under the sink. Why not combine both tasks and be done with it? He can be efficient when he wants to be. His uncle would be proud.

The showerhead is over his head and he puts some of the bleach on the scrubber and starts scrubbing the limescale.

One minute he's looking up at his hand scrubbing away, the next there's a burning pain in his eyes. He lets out a yelp and drops the scrub brush into the shower.

"Shit! Fuckfuckfuck."

He squeezes his eyes shut, but the pain doesn't go away. It only gets worse.

There's a distant memory in his mind that when something like this happens, you're supposed to flush your eyes with clear, running water, so he turns on the shower, waits a few seconds for the bleach to wash away, and steps under the spray.

He forces himself to open his eyes and let the water wash away the burning liquid. But there's still too much limescale, so he stumbles out of the shower and over to the sink. He bends over it and opens the faucet.

For the next five minutes, he lets the water run in and out of his eyes, praying to the gods that he does not lose his sight. Even by his standards, that would be the stupidest accident that ever happened to him. And that’s counting the time when he succeeded in breaking both hands at the same time.

The pain eases a bit, but his eyes still burn like hell. He thinks about just going to bed and hoping it'll go away in the morning. But then he imagines waking up to a world of darkness and reaches for the phone instead.

Swallowing his pride, he dials 9-1-1.

Later, he will remember this as one of the most embarrassing and surreal moments of his life. Him, standing in the doorway of his kitchen next to the phone, naked as the day he was born, water dripping all over the floor, his eyes squeezed shut. The receiver in his hand and a nice young man on the other line asking him what his emergency is.

I'm a fucking idiot, seems to be the best answer to this question.

"I accidentally got bleach in my eyes and they're burning like hell. I'm afraid I'm going to lose my sight."

"Okay, sir. Have you rinsed your eyes with clear water?"

Eddie pats himself on the back for his excellent survival skills, happily ignoring what got him here in the first place.

"Yes, I did. For at least five minutes. But it still burns really bad and when I try to open my eyes, everything is blurry and it hurts even more."

The operator on the other side was humming and Eddie could hear him tapping away at his computer. "Very good, Mr. -" The operator pauses and Eddie remembers that he hadn't even said his name, just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Figures. "Munson. Edward Munson."

"Very good, Mr. Munson. May I ask what exactly happened?"

Shit. How embarrassing.

"I was cleaning my shower."

"At 2 in the morning?" Eddie winces.

"Yes?"

"Okay, Mr. Munson. We're going to send an ambulance to you. Explain to the paramedics what you told me and show them the chemicals you used. And please keep your eyes closed for now so you don't irritate them any more. Do you understand?"

Eddie nods, then remembers that the guy couldn't see him. "Yeah, I got it. Wait for the ambulance. Don't open my eyes. Show them the bleach."

"Very good. Oh, and Mr. Munson. A word of advice? Next time, clean the shower during the day and wear goggles and gloves." Eddie promises to do that and hangs up.

And so Eddie waits. Still naked and wet, his eyes closed.

The doorbell rings and he walks over to the door, stubbing his toe more than once on the way.

"Hello?" he asks through the door, not wanting to expose himself to a stranger and get arrested for public indecency.

"Hello, sir. We're here for an emergency. Something with bleach and possible eye damage?" A deep voice answers from the other side.

Eddie opens the door, eyes still closed, and says, "That would be me." The man gasps softly and Eddie is a little surprised. Doesn't he see a lot of naked people at his job?

He turns and walks to the bathroom, stubbing his toes again on the way, expecting the paramedics to follow him into the apartment.

"Sir, please wait. Where are you going?" The same voice, now closer.

"To my bathroom. The operator told me to show you the bleach. I left it there." A warm hand wraps around his arm and Eddie realizes for the first time how fucking cold he is.

"Sir, we need to examine you first. My partner can get the bleach in the meantime." His next words are not addressed to Eddie, but to the person behind him. "Robin, could you look for the bleach in the bathroom? Make sure you bring back anything you find that might be important."

Eddie feels someone walk past him and he wants to open his eyes so badly. He feels naked, exposed. Vulnerable.

The man in front of him speaks again, his tone soft. Soothing. "I need to look into your eyes and examine the damage. I will shine a light into them. It will probably hurt, but you must keep your eyes open. I promise to be as quick as I can, okay?"

All Eddie hears is 'keep your eyes open', so he does. His eyes are still burning like a son-of-a-bitch, but his vision is finally clearing up. Kneeling in front of him, rummaging through a large leather bag, is the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen.

The literal angel at his feet chooses this moment to look up at Eddie through strands of golden hair. His beautiful, beautiful face is inches from his dick and Eddie has to do everything in his power to keep it from greeting the man in front of him like an excited puppy. Down boy, he thinks.

He has maybe ten seconds to be embarrassed by his nakedness before he notices a pair of pretty hazel eyes that are examining everything but his eyes. They linger on Eddie's dick and suddenly he's not ashamed anymore.

"You know, I hurt my eyes. Not my dick."

The guy starts and covers it with a cough. *"Sorry, sir. Wandering mind. Let's get to it."

"You can call me Eddie. And I wouldn't mind something else wandering while you do your examination." The most adorable blush adorns the man's cheeks, and Eddie is more than grateful that his eyes may still burn, but they work just fine. What a shame it would have been to miss such a sight.

The paramedic recovers quickly. He stands up again and takes a step closer to Eddie, radiating heat. Eddie wants to rub his cold skin all over it. Did the fumes go to his head?

"Well, Eddie. I think we'll focus on your eyes for now, okay?" Eddie starts to pout exaggeratedly, but hisses in pain as the blinding light hits his eyes. He instinctively closes his eyes and pulls away from the source of his discomfort.

A very warm, very large hand cupped his face and stopped him from retreating any further. "Hey, man. I'm sorry I startled you. But you gotta show me those big brown doe eyes of yours, okay?"

How could he ever say no to this? Eddie opens his eyes again and the hand on his cheek never leaves while the paramedic shines the light into both of his eyes. It hurts, but not as much as before.

"Your eyes are pretty." The guy says softly, and Eddie gets the impression that those words were not meant to come out of the paramedic's mouth.

“If all you wanted was to stare into my eyes, we could’ve just gone to dinner.” Eddie quips and the hand on his face drops, leaving him feeling cold and bereft.

"I mean, your eyes are pretty irritated." After what feels like minutes, but is probably no more than a couple of seconds, the guy turns off the light and puts it away. "But I don't see any encrustations or scar tissue on your cornea. Did you clean them with water?"

Eddie nods. "Yeah. At least five minutes, I think."

The guy hums. "No wonder they're irritated. Ah, Robin. You got the bleach?"

The other paramedic, a young woman also about his age, steps forward. Eddie wonders how long she's been standing there and how he missed it. The fumes have really done something to his head, he thinks.

Mr. Most Beautiful Face in the World takes the container from his colleague and examines it.

"Okay, I got to ask, Eddie. How did you get bleach in your eyes?"

And so Eddie tells them the whole story. It's no less embarrassing the second time he tells it, and the incredulous faces they make don't help.

"So, just to be clear. You accidentally got bleach in your eyes while trying to take a shower and clean said shower at the same time? At 2 in the morning?"

That sounded awfully judgmental, so Eddie does what he does best - deflect.

"You know what else I'd like to accidentally get in my eyes, big boy?"

"Please don't do that. What does that even mean?"

Admittedly not his best line, but he should get some credit for pulling any lines after the night he just had.

"It's the shock! You should be nicer to me, I almost died!"

"Jesus, are you always this dramatic?" Eddie thinks the guy is trying to sound annoyed, but the fond smile on his face ruins that impression.

"No? I mean...does it work? I mean. No, 'course not."

Before Eddie can put his foot in his mouth any further, the other paramedic chimes in. "It's kind of entertaining to watch...whatever this is. Like a very bad romcom or one of those cheesy soft porn things. But we really have to go, Steve. You know, to work?"

And there is that adorable blush again. Eddie has only seen it twice, but he's already hooked. Wants to cause it every day, wants to find out how deep it goes under the very loose, very revealing scrubs the guy - Steve - is wearing.

"You're right, sorry, Robs. Okay, Eddie, it looks like your eyes are fine, just irritated. You should go to bed and rest them for a while. They should be fine in the morning."

With that, they both turn and head for the door. Now or never, Munson.

"Steve, wait!"

Steve turns back to him, an expectant look on his face.

Eddie smiles his most disarming smile and says, "You better write down your number for me in case this happens again."

Steve laughs in surprise, the sound so beautiful that Eddie wants to record it. "You don't remember 9-1-1?"

"What if I just want a certain paramedic to check me out?"

There are some simple truths in Eddie Munson's life. One of them is that while his chaotic mind might get him into trouble now and then, it also got him a date with the most gorgeous guy he ever met.

___________________

As usual, my unending love and gratitude for the worst enablers I ever met, @legitcookie and @yournowheregirl 💜💜💜

Any and all resemblance to persons living or dead should be plainly apparent to them and those who know them, especially if the author has been kind enough to have provided their real names and, in some cases, their phone numbers. 

[runninriot]

He’s holding a single flower in his hands – a yellow rose, because yellow was her favourite colour and roses always remind him of her. The lovely smell of her perfume, like roses and sunshine. She was like a rose herself. Delicate, soft, beautiful with the ability to make you hurt and bleed if you weren’t careful not to prick yourself at her thorns. She was feisty and strong. A true force of nature. The sweetest girl he had ever known. A warrior. A fighter til the end and so much stronger than him, through all of it. She would always hold his hand and squeeze it with every little strength left in her frail body, while he sat by her side, crying, weak, broken.

He should’ve been the one holding her hand, telling her everything would be fine. Giving her courage and strength to keep going, no matter how much of a lie it would have been. They both knew the truth, knew their remaining days together were numbered. He should have pretended anyway, given her the illusion of better days. Instead, he made it worse. Made her worry for him. He could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at him.

“Don’t be sad, Eddie. It’s not the end of the world.”

[paperbackribs]

[discocandles]

one thing about steve harrington is that he sucks at doing nothing. like he has to be doing something with himself lest the guy waste away. this has led to him being very good at fucking around with things especially when its something relatively quiet. the loudest steve will let himself keep his hands busy while stuck idle is tossing whatever's in his hand to himself and catching it, which usually bodes well for sports practice after coach learned that just because he was moving didnt mean he wasnt paying attention(usually the opposite).

he learned how to flip a pencil around his thumb in middle school and seeing someone in one of the meetings he sat in on doing it. he'll twirl anything he can around in his hand, especially while he was working in the mall. the scoopers were perfect for it. and any way youve seen a drummer/percussionist fiddle with a drumstick, steve knew he had to replicate it.

but even with all this movement and the fact the guy was barely ever not moving, it seemed like no one noticed it ever. a fact that nearly drove eddie insane when they were in high school together. because he did have the reputation of being restless, and in a constant state of movement. and he probably fucked around with random shit less, so how did steve "the hair" harrington not end up with the same reputation? the answer was just that he was way more quiet("and sneaky" -eddie) about it. and if the teacher hated when their students fiddled and futzed he'd be sure to try and keep the movement below his desk.

but it not that he only has to keep his hands busy. no no no, if bored or stuck waiting, and that won't suffice, steve harrington will pick up anything with words just to read it. anything. outdated newspapers, ingredients lists, magazines of any topic. he just mindlessly grabs for whatever and starts fucking reading. Robin could swear under oath to a court that her best friend has read the back of every vhs in family video. hell, she's seen him reading drugstore novels, like the fucking grandma smut and books with cover art of nicely dressed ladies running from a castle. and its her jock best friend reading it, instead of some repressed suburban woman who hates her husband. yes, this information is the bane of robin buckley's exsistance because its not like anyone would believe her.

idk just give me steve being restless but doing it quietly enough that no one really picks up on it.

[space-invading-pigeon]

Hellfire Adopts Steve Pt. 2

Pt 1

Eddie may be repeating his senior year, but he's no idiot. He's intuitive, a quick thinker, and generally, he's an excellent judge of character. Which is exactly why he protested Gareth's decision to drag Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High and current King of Don't Fuck With Me, to lunch with Hellfire.

Jeff and Freak are both genuinely terrified to have His Royal Highness picking at subpar mashed potatoes in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from them; to his credit, Steve Harrington seemed unbothered by the situation, even as Princess Nancy Wheeler and her own little pet outcast Jonathan pass him on the way to their own table. Eddie watches with growing interest as Steve boredly ignores Nancy's attempt to catch his eye (it's almost hilarious- he'd been at the Halloween party last month where Nancy got absolutely shitfaced and then screamed at Steve in front of the entire student body, and yet here they are, Nancy trying awkwardly to speak to Steve and Steve resolutely going about his business).

Gareth stammers through a story about their latest DnD campaign, his round face practically glowing with excitement as he uses the peas on his tray to illustrate what their party had been up against. Eddie fully expects Steve to say something rude, dousing Gareth's smile and deserving every bit of ire Eddie can muster, but Steve just smiles at Gareth and ruffles his hand through the unkempt curls Eddie's been trying to get Gareth to take care of.

From there it only gets weirder. Steve seems to have taken a real shine to Gareth and is nothing short of a perfect gentleman to Jeff and Freak, but he loves to bicker with Eddie. Honestly, Eddie's impressed at just how much Steve seems to like bitching at people.

Steve is also surprisingly responsible? After that first lunch, Steve is around all the time; he shows up to Hellfire meetings with his backpack full of homework and a Tupperware full of something delicious (Eddie had nearly cried the first time he took a bite of Steve's macaroni), only to completely ignore their entire session to study. Occasionally, the walkie Steve carries with him whenever they aren't in school will crackle to life, and Steve will make himself scarce pretty quickly.

Overall, Steve is awesome. Eddie hates to admit it, but watching such a prim and proper guy emotionally destroy someone for commenting on Freak's size, and Eddie just knows that the damage done to Tommy Hagan's car after Gareth showed up to Hellfire with a busted lip and glassy eyes was Steve's fault.

========

Steve is actually really enjoying his time in Hellfire. He doesn't really mention it to the kids, and both Nancy and Jonathan are still avoiding him, so Steve sees it as a win: he gets to make friends who haven't seen him get his ass beat by interdimensional horrorterrors that have ruined dogs and flowers for him forever, he gets to learn more about the game his new little brother is obsessed with, and innocent kids don't have to bear the brunt of King Billy's reign of terror.

Gareth decides almost instantly that he likes Steve; not only because he saved Gareth from bullies or brings them food better even than Wayne Munson's, but because Steve always listens to his DnD stories. Jeff and Freak (who Steve will only refer to by his Government Name, Melvin) grow to like him as well, not at all encouraged by the food Steve brings or (on one memorable occasion) the incredibly realistic melee weapon, straight out of a flick like Red Dawn, that they found under his seat one day.

[jadewritesficshere]

Just thinking about s4 but when Alpha!Eddie grabs Steve to shove the bottle against his neck, he doesn't realize Steve is an omega and accidentally scruffs him. And Steve is just boneless, kinda goes down. And Eddie isn't expecting deadweight and almost falls ontop of Steve but realizes what's happening (let's just say he's fought off a few bullies who scruffed members of his pack). He immediately drops the bottle and holds onto Steve, who tries to scent Eddie. Just shoves his face into Eddie's neck and nuzzles it, lets out a purr unintentionally.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, still on this live-stream: Stevie, your phone is blowing up!

Steve: Yeah, that’s Dustin. He got my message. He’s freaking out.

Eddie: …You gonna answer it?

Steve: Yeah.

Steve: Tomorrow.

Eddie:

Eddie, genuinely concerned: What did he say to you?? Please tell me so I can make sure I never say it.

[oatmilk-vampire]

Steve, who accidentally overslept his alarm, who was supposed to meet his friends for weekly brunch 30 minutes ago: sorry, guys. I'm late.

Robin: this is how you tell me you might be pregnant? I expect much more fanfare next time.

Dustin: can I be the uncle? How about the godfather?

Eddie: don't worry, I'll be with you and our unborn child every step of the way. We'll be amazing parents!

Steve: ...

Steve: Fuck you guys

Robin: ew no

Dustin: I'm literally a minor

Eddie: you already have

[livwritesstuff]

for @steddie-week day 6 | drunken confessions

tags: alcohol, drunk steve, sober eddie, post-canon, vague references to period-typical homophobia

By all calculations, Steve shouldn’t be this drunk.

Eddie knows Steve only had three beers – one during Corroded Coffin’s set, and he was halfway through a second when Eddie finally caught up with him after the show, and he started on his third while they were hanging out at the bar.

(Exactly why Eddie knows this is entirely irrelevant, and it has nothing to do with how he'd had one eye on Steve throughout the entire performance trying to gauge how much he might be into it. Definitely not).

Eddie had seen Steve “Keg King” Harrington in the flesh enough times to feel pretty confident that he holds his alcohol better than this but…fuck, if Steve isn’t absolutely sloshed, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed red, and he doesn't seem to have any idea how precariously he's swaying in his bar-stool.

It's fine. Steve's a pretty quiet drunk on the whole, and Eddie gets sorta wired after shows – extra adrenaline or something – so Steve is mostly just listening to him ramble about whatever happens to cross his brain, which isn't a bad way to spend an evening, all things considered.

Midway through an entirely one-sided debate over the merits of starting guitar lessons on electric versus acoustic, Steve reaches over and pushes a curl of hair falling into his eye-line off his forehead with just the tips of his fingers.

Eddie trails off, losing track of his sentence entirely as his eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s face and the hand still hovering by his forehead. He blinks a few times, his parted lips just as forgotten as the end of his sentence.

Eddie knows there’s a kind of question in his eyes when they finally hold firm on Steve’s.

Eventually, after a few beats of silence, Steve supplies, “I like your hair.��

“Uh-huh.” Eddie lifts his chin, still looking at Steve like he doesn’t know what to make of him.

“I like you,” Steve continues, and Eddie feels himself freeze for a moment, a nervous kind of shock running down his spine because, fuck, he's big enough to admit he's fantasized about hearing those words come out of Steve's mouth more than once (way more than once), but his voice was also abnormally loud, and while it’s definitely an interesting little tidbit on Steve’s part, he really doesn’t need the rest of the goddamn Hideout knowing it too. 

“I mean,” Steve continued, “Seriously, I’m, like, super into–”

“Alright,” Eddie cuts him off as he grabs the back of Steve’s jacket, yanking him off the stool and dragging him down the hall, past the bathrooms, and out the back door into the gloomy alleyway. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve!" Eddie exclaims once the door firmly closes behind them, "You can’t just – fuck, man, you’re gonna get us killed!”

“No,” Steve argues, and Eddie’s eyebrows fly up.

“Oh, okay, never mind I guess,” he shot back, “Sure, let’s go back in there, maybe make out on the bar for a while. What could possibly go wrong?”

"Okay," Steve replies simply, reaching forward to clumsily hook fingers around Eddie's belt loops, "You wanna?"

“Uh, no,” Eddie replied, and he regretted it immediately when he saw the look on Steve’s face. He shook his head, desperately trying to course-correct, “I dunno what kind of boys you’ve been kissing, but I certainly don’t take advantage of guys when they’re too drunk to remember anything the next morning.”

"Not kissing any other boys," Steve slurs, "Just waiting for you." He blinks at him for a moment, then says, "Do you...I sorta thought you might..."

Eddie swallowed nervously, because despite his earlier comment, he doesn't actually think Steve is so drunk that he won't remember any of this tomorrow, which means he's gonna remember this: "Yeah, I like you, Steve. Jesus Christ, I like you loads."

And Steve's mouth split into the biggest, dopiest grin Eddie's ever seen, and, fuck, yeah, he wants to kiss him. He really wants to kiss him.

"Tomorrow morning too?" Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie can't help a little laugh as he nods, "Definitely tomorrow morning too. Probably time to head out, though, for now."

"Okay," Steve nods, and so Eddie untangles Steve's hand from his belt loop, clasping it firmly in his own when he's done (because he can do that, he thinks). As they head for Eddie's van, Steve adds, "Y'know, I bet if you rolled all the windows down I'd sober up on the way back."

"Sure you will, sweetheart."

[steveseddie]

helping hand

written for round one of @steddiebingo and the 12 days of Christmas mini-event | prompts: help & thigh fucking | rating: e | wc: 2,1k | no cw | tags: eddie lives, sharing a bed, hand jobs, thigh fucking, cuddling

read on ao3

According to Wayne, Eddie can sleep through anything.

It’s why he was late to school pretty much every day. That and the fact that he didn’t give a shit about it– but mostly because he always slept through his alarm clock.

But the thing is that to sleep through anything he needs to be asleep to begin with. And right now he can’t fall asleep because Steve hasn’t stopped tossing and turning in the past hour.

When Eddie comes close to falling asleep for what feels like the hundredth time only for Steve to twist around again, he can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh.

Steve freezes as he’s fixing the blanket around him. “Um, did I wake you?” he asks in a tiny voice.

“I’d have to be asleep for you to wake me up, big boy.”

Running his hands down his face, Steve groans. “Shit, sorry, man.”

“‘S fine, Stevie.” He gives Steve a sidelong glance. Thanks to the moonlight filtering through the window he can see that he’s frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just– Can’t sleep.”

“I got that much, dude,” Eddie says with a snort. He hesitates, biting his lip nervously. “Um, is it because of me?”

It might’ve been Steve who suggested they shared his bed tonight, but maybe he changed his mind or maybe he only did it because he was trying to be polite and he expected Eddie to turn down the offer–

Steve frantically shakes his head. “No! No–”

Eddie isn’t convinced. “Are you sure? Because I can go–”

“No,” Steve says, more firmly this time. “Eddie, I promise, I’m just restless, s’all.”

Eddie relaxes. “Okay, yeah, I get that. It happens to me a lot, especially after– you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs in sympathy. “So what do you do? When it happens?”

“Uh–” Eddie hesitates, a little worried that answering truthfully might make sharing a bed a bit awkward. Oh fuck it, he thinks. It was Steve who asked. “I usually just– you know, jerk off.”

Steve inhales sharply. He lets out a tiny, “Oh.”

And there’s the awkwardness.

Before Eddie can offer to take the couch again, Steve asks, “Does that, um– does that work for you?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Oh, like a charm. Makes me sleep like a baby.”

“I could use some of that,” Steve sighs longingly.

Eddie agrees– he’s noticed the black smudges under Steve’s eyes. “Well, I could, uh– go to the bathroom for a while if you want to–”

Steve sputters. “I’m not gonna ask you to go to the bathroom so I can jerk off!”

“Fine, then you can go to the bathroom. I’ll cover my ears, I promise,” Eddie says, trying to act casual but the truth is that if Steve actually took him up on the offer, Eddie’s brain would melt out of his ears just from knowing Steve is jerking off in the next room.

“Jesus, how loud do you think I am, man?” Steve asks with an incredulous laugh.

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve given it much thought.” He has given it plenty of thought actually but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “Just trying to be helpful here, Stevie.”

“There’s something else you could do if you want to help,” Steve whispers after a short silence. He sounds strangely shy, nervous. He can’t possibly mean–

“Steve,” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice leveled. “Are you asking me to get you off?”

There’s a short moment where Steve doesn’t say anything and Eddie worries that he just made things even more awkward by assuming that’s what he meant, but before he can spiral he hears Steve’s soft reply. “Maybe.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters out loud though mostly to himself but Steve hears it anyway and lets out a panicked yelp.

“Christ, you know what? That was stupid.”

“Steve–”

But Steve ignores him, rolling on his side, away from Eddie, and as far as he can without falling off the bed. “Forget I said anything, you don’t have to–”

“I want to!” Eddie blurts out, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Uh, if– if it will help you.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to do that,” Steve says, still facing away from Eddie.

“I’m offering,” he says. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens to him and it definitely won’t be happening twice but he wants it– God, does he want it– so he moves closer, putting his hand on Steve’s waist, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s entire body shudders. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Please, Eddie.”

Oh, shit.

Just the thought of doing this is enough to make Eddie’s blood rush downward, making his dick half hard so he’s careful to keep his hips angled away from Steve’s back as he scoots closer to him, moving his hand from Steve’s waist to his lower stomach, feeling his skin erupt in goosebumps beneath his touch.

“I got you, Stevie,” he whispers, fingers moving down, playing with Steve’s happy trail. He’s already panting and Eddie still hasn’t even touched him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he needs to touch him.

He slides his hand lower until his knuckles bump against Steve’s cock over his boxers. “You’re already half hard, sweetheart? Is this what was actually keeping you up?”

Steve lets out a low moan. He didn’t ask Eddie for a running commentary, just a helping hand, but Eddie can’t stop himself. He’s a loud guy through and through, so unless Steve tells him to shut up, he’ll keep running his mouth. Steve seems to be into it anyway.

He lazily strokes Steve’s cock over his boxers to get him to full hardness. Fuck, he’s big, Eddie thinks. He can’t wait to feel Steve’s hot skin–

“Can I touch you?” Eddie whispers into his ear.

“Yes, yeah,” Steve agrees quickly.

So Eddie slips his hand inside Steve’s boxers, sighing happily when he wraps his fingers around his hard length.

The touch makes Steve throw his head back with a groan, almost smashing it against Eddie’s nose. Thankfully he doesn’t, even though not even a bloody nose would make Eddie give up the chance to get Steve off.

However he does prop himself up with the arm he isn’t using to touch Steve so his head rests against Eddie’s shoulder so as to not risk an injury– and because it allows him to peer over Steve’s shoulder and watch how his hand looks wrapped around his cock.

And God the sight gets Eddie to full hardness, making his mouth water.

He starts stroking him slowly, gathering the precum from the tip and smearing it down and around Steve’s cock but it’s not enough.

When he lets go entirely, Steve whines, hips thrusting forward, chasing after Eddie’s touch.

Eddie shushes him gently. “‘M not going anywhere, sweetheart. Here, spit,” he says, holding his hand close to Steve’s mouth. He does as he’s told without hesitation. Eddie can’t stop himself from kissing Steve’s nape. “Good boy.”

“Oh, G-god,” Steve moans brokenly. It trails off into a high-pitched whine when Eddie wraps his hand around him again, the slide of his hand smoother now from Steve’s spit.

He pumps him loosely. “Better?”

“Y–yeah,” Steve manages, panting now.

The elastic of his boxers makes Eddie’s movements a little clumsy but Steve fixes it by jerkily shoving them down. While doing that, his ass presses back against Eddie’s front and there’s no way for him to hide that he’s fully hard in his own boxers.

But instead of shoving Eddie away or calling him out on it, Steve groans and shuffles back until Eddie’s chest presses against his back and Eddie’s cock is nestled against Steve’s now naked ass.

“Fucking– fuck,” Eddie chokes out, momentarily stopping his hand so he can get his breathing over control.

“Eddie–” Steve whines, his hips twitching and fucking his cock into Eddie’s fist. It pushes his ass back against Eddie’s crotch, which does little to help Eddie focus.

“‘M here, baby,” Eddie whispers, his teeth clamped over his lip. Steve’s hips are still moving–

But he starts stroking him again, reminding himself that this is about Steve.

“Oh God, yes,” he moans loudly.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be loud,” Eddie mutters in awe.

Steve lets out a choked laugh. “I thought– I thought you didn’t give it much– oh fuck, much thought.”

“I fucking lied,” Eddie admits with a scoff.

“I– I lied too,” Steve says, his breath coming faster when Eddie tightens his grip. “You were the reason, fuck– the reason why I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking, oh God– thinking about how I wanted to be doing this instead.”

Something hot burns in Eddie’s stomach. “Well, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

“Can– can I ask for something else?” Steve says shyly despite him currently grinding his ass against Eddie in an obscene way.

“Anything.”

“Fuck my thighs?” He asks, twisting his neck so he can look at Eddie, his eyes half-lidded, his pupils blown wide.

Eddie is pretty sure his brain momentarily short circuits.

When he doesn’t reply right away, Steve blindly reaches behind him, his hand connecting with Eddie’s hip. He clumsily tugs on his boxers, trying to get them off.

It snaps Eddie out of it. “Yes, yeah, fucking– yeah,” he mutters, momentarily letting go of Steve so he can shove his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.

He gives himself a few strokes– to take the edge off and to spread the precum along his length until his cock is wet and shiny.

“Come here,” Steve says and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He shuffles closer, angling the head of his dick forward, lining it up so it slides between Steve’s thighs.

And when it does, they both moan loudly at the same time.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths then reaches for Steve’s cock. The inside of Steve’s thighs is so warm and soft and he knows he’s not gonna last long, but he’ll make sure to make Steve come.

He makes sure his grip is tighter this time, his movements faster. He times them with his own thrusts, his cock sliding wetly in and out Steve’s meaty thighs.

“You feel fucking perfect, Steve,” Eddie groans, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder blade. The praise makes Steve whimper, his cock pulsing in Eddie’s hand. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”

Breathing coming faster, Steve manages, “Yeah– yeah. So fuckin’ close.”

“Me too, baby,” he admits. It doesn’t surprise him, he’s currently experiencing the hottest moment of his entire existence.

The closer he gets, the more his movements turn clumsier, more desperate– desperate to come, to make Steve come.

It’s when Eddie gives Steve’s shoulder a playful little bite at the same time that he twists his hand on the upstroke that Steve’s back arches and he moans loud and shaky as his cock pulses hotly into his hand.

Steve’s noises as he comes and the way his thighs tighten around Eddie’s cock are enough to bring him over the edge after only a few more thrusts and he paints Steve’s legs with cum.

They lay like that for a few seconds, catching their breath. Eddie starts to drift off, feeling tired and floaty.

“So you think you can fall asleep now?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Steve lets out a soft little giggle. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Eddie grins triumphantly. “Happy to be of service, Your Majesty,” he says with a twist of his cum-covered hand.

Steve’s nose wrinkles as his eyes land on it, but there’s a trace of fond amusement in the look he throws at Eddie over his shoulder. He grabs a handful of tissues from his nightstand and uses them to clean Eddie’s hand and himself before they both shove their boxers back on and get back under the covers.

Eddie rolls to his side. “Before you fall asleep and because I know it’ll keep me up if I don’t ask– was that like, just a hookup or do you like, like me?” He grimaces, burying his face into a pillow. “God, I sound like a twelve year old.”

Steve laughs, but not unkindly. “I like you, Eddie,” he says, and when Eddie lifts his head to look at him, Steve leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Smiling, Eddie nods. That’s fine by him.

Steve turns around, facing away again and Eddie wraps his arm around him, burrowing his face into the back of his neck.

They’re both asleep in a matter of seconds.

[trashcanniballecter]

Wayne, talking to Steve: Eddie was raised by racoons

Eddie: oh no not again

Wayne: I found him digging around in my garbage can and decided to take him in as my own

Eddie: Waaayne

Wayne: he still yearns for the trash

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie was sitting at the picnic table at Forest Hills, staring at a stain in the wood as he tried to make a decision. It required proper, serious thinking, he knew, but no matter how hard he thought about it or how serious, he couldn't seem to make a decision.

"Ha-ha!" Eddie said and pulled out a coin. "This always works."

He closed his eyes, holding the coin tightly in his hand as he thought about his choices. Steve or Chrissy. Chrissy or Steve. Steve or Chrissy. Heads for Steve because of his hair and tails for Chrissy because of her ponytail. Eddie opened his eyes and let out a breath. He flipped the coin and watched it sail through the air before falling onto the table.

"WHAT - HOW?!"

The coin was standing up on its edge, neither on heads or tails. Eddie stared at it in amazement for a moment before picking it up again. He closed his eyes, let out a breath, and opened his eyes. Steve or Chrissy. Heads or Tails. He flipped the coin. It landed on the edge again.

"What the FUCK is happening?!"

Eddie sighed in annoyance. He stood up, pacing back and forth. He grabbed the coin. Surely, it couldn't happen a third time. He flipped the coin, and it landed on the table. . .ON THE FUCKING EDGE AGAIN!

"Oh, come ON!"

Eddie slapped his face, trying to wake himself up. This can't be happening. No, there were definitely forces at work here. Maybe this place was haunted by what happened with Chrissy here and the fact that she almost died. Okay, one more time. Eddie huffed and flipped the coin.

"JESUS H CHRIST!"

"At what point does this stop being funny?" Max grinned.

"Never," Erica replied. "It never stops being funny."

El giggled, wiping her bloody nose. The three girls were staring out the window in Max's trailer, watching Eddie getting frustrated.

"This is what he gets for eating the last cookie that Uncle Wayne made," Max said, laughing. "That was supposed to be for me and he fucking knew it."

"What decision do you think he's making?" Erica said.

"I have no fucking clue."

Meanwhile. . .Eddie slammed the coin on the table. Fuck it. The universe was telling him it was okay to choose both so both it fucking is. He smoothed down his vest and ran his fingers through his hair. He scurried over to Wayne's garden and grabbed some flowers. He fisted them both in his hands and ran off towards the van.

"Boy!" Wayne yelled as he popped his head out of the trailer, and Eddie skidded to a stop, turning around.

"Hey, can I borrow these?" Eddie asked.

"Well, you already pulled them out of the ground, so, yeah," Wayne said.

"Hey, by the way, purely hypothetical question. . .how do you ask two people out at the same time?" Eddie asked.

"Well, I suppose it's not much different than asking one person out," he said. "Just gotta be honest and direct. Steve and Chrissy?"

Eddie scoffed and stuttered incoherently before sighing.

"Yeah."

"Good luck."

"Thanks!"

He silently thanked the mysterious force that led him to the decision and drove off.

[nerdnameddinkey]

apparently I'm a comic artist now :0

[sparkle-fiend]

Eddie is six years old, the first time he hears the voice. 

It wakes him with a jolt – sends him tearing through the house, searching under every bed and behind every door for the boy he hears calling his name.

Mama finally stops him. “Sweetheart, what did you lose this time?” (Eddie is always losing things.) She looks impatient, standing with a laundry basket balanced on one cocked hip, curly hair spilling out of the messy bun on top of her head.

“I heard somebody saying my name! I gotta find him, I think he’s hiding.”

Mama’s whole attitude changes, all at once. She sets the laundry aside and drops to her knees in front of him, squeezing his little hands between her own. “Oh baby. That voice means you’ve got a soulmate!”

She smiles bright as the suncatcher hanging in the window, and presses sloppy kisses all over his face until he screams with laughter, squirming to get away. 

“My lucky, special boy!”

Eddie’s never been lucky before. It’s exciting.

———

In school, they learn all about soulmates. About how rare they are. Uncle Wayne is the only other person Eddie knows that has one. 

When he found out about Uncle Wayne’s soulmate, Eddie was so excited – bubbling full of questions, like a bottle of fizzy pop. But whenever he tried to talk about it, his dad got real mad.

“You keep your mouth shut about soulmates,” he said. “Don’t talk about that shit in front of your uncle.”

It’s hard. Eddie starts staying over at Uncle Wayne’s trailer more and more when Mama gets sick. And Eddie’s never been good at following rules; especially when he’s curious about something.

“Uncle Wayne?” Eddie finally asks one day. “Where’s your soulmate? How come I’ve never seen her?” You have met her right? is what Eddie’s really asking. He can’t imagine waiting until he’s as old as Uncle Wayne to find his soulmate.

His uncle goes sort of brittle, tensing up like every joint is made of glass. His lips press together behind his beard, and his denim blue eyes go shiny and wet – like he’s trying not to cry.

If Eddie could take the question back, he would. Suck it right back into his mouth, like the smoke from his uncle’s cigarettes. This is why you gotta listen better baby – that’s what his Mama would probably say.

“My Lorretta died a few years ago. Before you were born.”

Eddie never considered that. In all the movies, soulmates die together. The thought of it leaves a queasy feeling squirming through his stomach.

“I still hear her though,” Uncle Wayne says, with a terribly soft look in his eyes. “Still hear her singing our song.”

“Like a memory?” Eddie whispers.

His uncle shakes his head. “Time don’t matter for soulmates – no more than distance. I can hear her still, across the years.”

Like a ghost, his uncle doesn’t say. A ghost that will haunt him forever. None of the dry textbooks in school ever mentioned that part.

It starts to worry Eddie. As he gets older, his soulmate’s voice starts to get clearer. He always hears the same thing – a desperate, grown-up voice screaming at him to “Run Eddie! RUN!!!” 

It must be from the future. But his soulmate sounds so scared. What could possibly happen, to make his soulmate sound like that?

Eddie starts to listen to music more. Loud, heavy stuff to drown out the frightened voice. 

Late at night, he curls up under the covers and softly sings his Mama’s favorite song – hoping that somewhere, somewhen, his soulmate will hear him.

That it might help, the way it helps Eddie when Mama sings him to sleep.

———

Eddie is twelve years old, the first time he really listens to the voice.

Mama's been dead two years, and his dad keeps pulling riskier and riskier jobs. Tonight, he's decided to try and break into the pawn shop on Fifth street. 

Eddie is the lookout, stationed on the opposite corner with a pistol weighing heavy in the pocket of his coat (just in case, Ed). 

He doesn't want to be here. He tried to argue with his dad. Said, "I've got a test tomorrow. I've got homework and..." and I hate this life. (He doesn't say that part.) I don't want to steal cars or break into buildings or mug people. I don't want to be like you.

His dad just gripped him by the arm hard enough to bruise, and said, "You like to eat, dont'cha? Well, lookouts get to eat. Lazy little shits don't." 

So Eddie is standing on a street corner in the middle of the night, watching his dad furtively attempt to pick the lock on the front door of the pawn shop, when a cop car slows down at the end of the street.

Fear floods his bloodstream so fast it leaves him dizzy. The cop has clearly noticed something. Eddie can see the shadowed figure inside the car reach for his radio. 

Eddie has two choices.

He could pull the pistol out of his pocket and fire a few shots down the street, forcing the cop to take cover long enough for his dad to get away (which is what his dad would expect him to do). Or he could... 

"Run!"

The sudden loud voice, echoing between his ears and behind his eyes and inside his heart, startles him into flinching. 

"Run Eddie, RUN!!!" His body obeys before his brain has a chance to process the words. He's halfway down the street when the siren shrieks to life. 

Later, as he sits in the backseat of the social worker's car on the way to his Uncle Wayne, he can't quite believe he did it. He bailed on his dad - left him to get arrested and go to prison. This is Frank Munson's third strike; he'll go away for life this time. 

I'm such a coward, Eddie thinks numbly. Such a chicken piece of shit. He digs his ragged nails into the soft flesh of his palms, squeezing hard enough to draw blood. 

As if he'd spoken aloud, a soft voice responds, "You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

His soulmate sounds so fierce, so certain. Eddie blinks hard against the hot burn of tears. The smart thing to do.

———

Eddie holds onto those words, like magic talismans. They provide comfort, not just in the immediate days after his dad's arrest, but other times too. Every time he runs away from a bully or a cop or a deal gone bad, Eddie thinks to himself - I'm not a coward. I'm just smart.

It works... until the night he stumbles out of his uncle's trailer, leaving Chrissy Cunningham's broken body on the living room floor. He's so terrified he doesn't have time to think, not until after he's ditched his van and taken shelter in Rick's boathouse. As he leans against the splintered wall and catches his breath, it hits him.

I left her there. What if she was still alive? (She wasn't. She couldn't have been. Not after... not after that.) He grabs fistfuls of hair and tugs until his scalp aches. Wracks his brain trying to figure out what happened, what he could have done to stop it.

He's never felt so ashamed before, not even when his dad was cursing and screaming and calling him a coward through the thick glass of the visitation window. 

His soulmate's words whisper in his ears, "...sometimes it's just the smart thing to do," and Eddie pounds on his skull with his fists to drown the voice out. "Not this time," he snarls. I should have done something. I should have tried to save her. 

He doesn’t feel smart this time. He feels like a cowardly piece of shit.

His soulmate’s voice falls silent. 

Through all the craziness to follow – finding out that monsters are real, running for his life from an angry mob, fighting alongside Steve Harrington in an evil Upside Down version of Hawkins – Eddie doesn’t hear his soulmate again.

Not until he’s staring up at Dustin Henderson, realizing that he can’t run away again. As he hesitates at the bottom of the rope, Dustin calls out nervously, “Eddie, what are you doing?”  

“I’m buying more time,” he says. He ignores Dustin’s screams as he cuts the rope and slides the mattress out of the way – making sure the kid can’t follow him. 

And then he hears his soulmate say, “Wait, wait a second. Eddie?! Is that you?” 

Eddie is twenty years old, the first time he recognizes his soulmates voice.

He pauses at the door of the trailer and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “Hey Stevie.”

“Holy shit, it’s you,” Steve whispers in awe.

It’s the first time they’ve been able to speak to each other like this, responding in real-time. Eddie wishes it could have happened in different circumstances.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed.

Eddie doesn’t answer. He slams his way out of the barricaded trailer and grabs one of the discarded bikes, hoping to lead the swarm of bats away as far as possible. 

He makes it halfway across the trailer park before one of the bats knocks him off the bike. He grunts and rolls, gaining his feet quickly. Chest heaving, charged with adrenalin – Eddie hesitates. He could keep running… or he could stand his ground and fight. 

Maybe Steve can hear the hitch in his breath in that moment, because the other boy seems to have worked out what’s going on, even from miles away. Steve screams, “No!!! Run Eddie, RUN!!!!”

It’s like the night his dad got arrested. Eddie doesn’t even have time to think - his body reacts to that voice and he runs, worn Reeboks slapping the pavement.

(In another world, Eddie would have turned to face the swarm. In another world, Eddie would have died.)

He’s fast. He’s always been fast. He buys himself a few precious moments, before the bats drag him to the ground. They start to rip through his clothes, through his flesh, and he tries to hold back his screams – he doesn’t want Steve to hear this…

Those extra seconds save his life. It’s bad - but not as bad as it could have been. The bats start to drop from the sky, writhing and shrieking; they’re dying, although Eddie has no idea why. Hopefully, it means Steve and the girls were successful. 

He struggles to sit up just as Dustin reaches him, crying and frantic. “Eddie!! Oh my god, are you okay? Jesus, there’s so much blood…” the kid moans. 

“Yeah, yep. I’m good,” Eddie pants through gritted teeth. “Help me up okay?”

Dustin insists on binding the worst of his wounds first, using strips of fabric torn from the ghillie suit. The pain makes Eddie want to scream all over again, but he allows it. It is an awful lot of blood.

They lean against each other and limp back to the trailer, where Dustin knots t-shirts and jeans and flannel shirts into the remnants of their rope until it’s long enough to reach the other side again. 

Eddie manages to haul himself up the rope and through the gate – and that’s where his strength runs out. The pain of landing on the thin mattress knocks him right out.

———

When Eddie wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed. 

Holy shit I’m alive, he thinks. He honestly wasn’t sure he would make it.

He moves gingerly, testing each limb, turning his head against the stinging pull of a bandage along the edge of his jaw.

The room isn’t empty; Eddie apparently has a roommate. He clears his throat and the person in the other bed stirs, turning to look at him. 

It’s Steve.

His soulmate.

Eddie feels a funny little swoop of exhilaration in his stomach. “Hey Stevie.”

Steve’s face goes soft at first, like he’s experiencing the same fizzy warmth that Eddie is feeling. Then he blinks, and his brows draw down into a scowl. “What the hell was that, huh? What happened to ‘I’m no hero’?”

Oops. 

Eddie tries to make light of the situation. “Maybe I wanted to try it out,” he says flippantly. “Not too sure it suits me though. Think I might stick to being a coward from now on – it’s a lot less painful.” 

Steve doesn’t smile. He fixes Eddie with a serious look, hazel eyes blazing in the sallow light of the hospital room. “You listen to me Eddie Munson. You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Those words – once a gift from the future, now an echo of the past. He never should have ignored them. “Maybe you’re right.”

Steve’s mouth is already open to continue the argument. “I…” he stops, clearly caught off-guard, face scrunched in adorable confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, I am right.”

Steve runs a faintly trembling hand through his hair. The angry expression melts into something gentler, almost unbearably soft. “I’m glad you listened to me in the end, at least.”

Eddie shifts his weight, pressing his cheek into the scratchy hospital pillow so he can keep his eyes on Steve. 

He’s so beautiful. Even bloody and bruised, with dirt still smudged along his hairline and dark circles under his eyes – he’s the most beautiful boy Eddie has ever seen. And Eddie almost gave this up – if he’d died in the Upside Down, he would have left Steve alone, with only the echo of Eddie’s voice left to haunt him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says hoarsely, “me too.”

He still feels guilty over Chrissy’s death - he probably always will. But he’s coming to realize that proving himself a hero wouldn’t have been worth the pain his death would have caused.

Eddie’s got a second chance… and he plans to make the most of it.

[delta-piscium]

Murray, after watching Steve and Eddie for all of five seconds, confidently walks up to them and starts his whole spiel about pining blah blah etc etc, and like, Steve will absolutely not have that, there is no way.

So he snorts, looks at Murray down his nose, and with zero hesitation lies, tells him “We’ve been dating for a month, congrats on seeing the obvious... Or not since you couldn’t tell”

He just hopes Eddie will play along. Steve is sending him the strongest signals with his mind right now, and, just, he knows Eddie can be petty like this too (that’s why he likes him so much, and yeah Murray is a little right but fuck him so much more for it)

Eddie ‘lives for the bit and to fuck with people’ Munson does not disappoint. He slings an arm around Steve and is like “Yeaaahhh wow, real clever observation there buddy.” In the driest tone imaginable

And Murray, well he was sure he was right, still kind of is sure he’s right so he just squints at them for a bit and then breaks out in a wide grin, and only sounds a little sarcastic when he says “Congrats on figuring your shit out yourselves.” 

Except he absolutely does not mean it because he wanted to do that, he likes doing that. And now he's sulking and will watch them so closely because something seems off 

Eddie and Steve, so committed to the bit and to not let Murray win, start fake dating. All while Murray tries to catch them in their lie, and they’re all too stubborn to give up

Murray starts to slowly think he maybe was wrong though because they really seem like a couple. And even though there’s still something there he can’t ignore the proof.

When they straight up make out in front of him, and he can tell that they’re so lost in each other they probably don’t know he’s there he's about to concede

But then after that, they act so weird around each other again? It’s like before but worse and how did the pining get worse when they’re actually openly together? Regularly have their tongues down each other's throats and all?

Meanwhile, Steve and Eddie are going through it because they thought they’d be okay but that kiss was so much, and oh god they don’t think they can do this? But they can’t let Murray win?

A week and a half later at their monthly 'we survived the apocalypse, again' get-together at Hoppers and Joyce’s, Murray just gets enough of how twitchy they are. He grabs them both and locks them in a closet and is like “I don’t wanna know anymore, whatever fight you had or didn’t figure it out”

They sort of stand there shuffling from foot to foot not marking eye contact until Eddie is just like “Oh for fucks sake, I like you for real okay? The bastard was right so can we actually just date? Please?” And all Steve's can do is say "Thank god," while he smiles the most blinding smile and grabs Eddie by his collar pulling him in for a kiss

Fifteen minutes later they come out of the closet (the irony and symbolism is not lost on them) all disheveled and a little too satisfied looking and are met with very loud screaming from all the younger teens, ranging from a simple “Ew!” (Mike) to “Dude we are right here what if we'd heard? Or walked in there and seen?” (Dustin)

They’re lucky they’re too distracted by this to see Murray's self-satisfied smirk because if they did they would have pretend broken up and there would have been another month of sneaking around but this time actually dating and pretending they weren’t

[spookystarfishzombie]