#LexsSummerFanworksChallenge

[sparkle-fiend]

A kiss like summer fireworks, lighting up the night…

🎇🎆🎇

Finally finished my entry for @thefreakandthehair ‘s Summer Fanworks Challenge!!! (My prompt was “fireworks”)

Thank you again Lex, for hosting these challenges and always coming up with some amazing prompts! 😄

[steddiealltheway]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. That's how he knows the van. 

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

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

Munson quickly stiffens again. "Why?" 

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

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

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

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

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

"And why do you want to call her?" 

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

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

"Her." 

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

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

"Hello?" 

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

"Oh, Nancy is currently-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh," Eddie says, shifting uncomfortably. 

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

Eddie nods his head. “Right.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve turns and asks, “Are you sure?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?” 

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Steve asks. 

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” 

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

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

“Run away with me.” 

Steve head slowly comes up. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe?” Eddie prompts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nine,” Steve says immediately. 

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

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

“Six,” Eddie exhales. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve nods and says, “Happy New Year.” 

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

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

[ahhrenata]

some quick little doodles for @thefreakandthehair ’s summer fanworks challenge!

prompt | sunscreen 🌞

Thanks again for hosting Lex!! 💕

[artbean]

for @thefreakandthehair’s summer fanworks challenge, as august comes to a close… sun shower

[harmonictechnicality]

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

it’s only three days late! here’s my entry for @thefreakandthehair's summer fanworks challenge!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 3,677 | rated: M | on AO3: it's a date

“These are the days where I miss when you worked at Scoops.” Eddie complains for the nth time that afternoon.

It’s hot, okay? Immensely so.

It’s so fuckin’ hot that it’s seeping into Family Video despite their normally pretty okay A/C.

He’s laid out across the front counter, one arm hanging loosely over it onto Steve’s side, and the other is holding his hair off his neck best it can.

Of all days to forget a hair tie.

Steve scoffs, “Yeah, you miss it, but that place was hell on my hair and therefore, on my game.”

“I still don’t understand that, who could resist Sailor Steve?” 

“Apparently every person that came in could.” Steve pauses for a moment, “Except moms and grandmas. They all loved me.” he grumbles, leaning back on the far counter along the front window, arms crossed.

Eddie opens his mouth to respond with some sort of smart-alecy quip, but is interrupted by the chime of the bell above the door.

On instinct, Eddie peels his sticky skin from the green linoleum counter and slumps off into the aisles.

The government and Hawkins Police may have completely cleared him as a suspect for the spring break murders, but his presence in town is still not exactly welcome.

So, Steve goes into full-on ‘Prince Charming’ mode when the bombshell of a blonde approaches to ask about something, and Eddie meanders over to the horror section, trying his best to ignore the soupy jealousy in his gut for the girl at the counter, getting to be the center of Steve’s attention like that.

Eventually, she leaves, and from the way Steve’s eyes track the girl out the door and the droop of his shoulders once the door closes behind her, he struck out once again.

“I can’t believe I got to see the Harrington charm in action, live and in person!” Eddie says in imitation of a showman as he approaches the register, “And it failed! Where’s Robin’s board, huh?”

Eddie hefts himself half over the counter in front of him to hang over the other side of it, searching in vain for Robin’s famed ‘You Suck / You Rule’ board.

“Ha ha ha, Munson. You’re hilarious.” Steve pushes Eddie back to the floor with a hand to the face. “And I didn’t fail.”

He shows him a slip of paper with 10 whole digits written on it in a loopy hand, then promptly crumples it tight and tosses it into the nearby trash can.

Eddie somehow manages to keep his face from grinning at the action. ‘Just because he’s tossing her number doesn’t mean you have a chance, asshole.’ his brain tells him.

He puts on a confused face instead, to which Steve shrugs and says, “Not my type.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Well that just sucks for her then. Never see how great a date with the esteemed King Steve would be.” Eddie says, clapping a hand to his chest in a half-swoon, straightening up again while Steve laughs, tacking on a: “Lord knows I’d want to.” in a low mumble. A guy can dream right?

“Would you now?” Steve says, still smiling.

Shit.

“‘Would I now?’ what?” Eddie manages to say before his mouth goes dry, tracking Steve’s movements as the other man steps forward to lean on his forearms next to Eddie at the counter. 

His warm, toned forearm presses along Eddie’s, and he’s only half embarrassed that he doesn’t mind the added heat.

“You want to know how a date with me goes, huh Munson?”

Eddie gulps “Oh…y–yeah, sure; lay it on me Stevie, I’d love t’know.” 

He had managed a facade of a cocky grin by the end of his response, but his throat dries right back up and clenches shut at what Steve says next.

“How about I just take you out tomorrow night and show you,”Steve says, then he’s leaning further into Eddie’s side, and whispering, “Maybe you’ll see how a date with me ends.” into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie slowly rears back to blink at the (beautiful) smiling man beside him.

Oh.

He’s fucking with him.

Of course.

Eddie rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smirk. “Ha ha you’re really funny. You got all the jokes today huh?”

Steve just chuckles at him.

“I gotta run though,” Eddie says, pushing himself off the counter and heading to the door with a wave over his shoulder “Good luck with the babes, Steve-o!”

“Sure, Eds. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six?”

He spins to face the counter again, “Oh yeah, sure you will, Big Boy. Sounds like a plan.” he agrees sarcastically, walking backwards out the front door.

Eddie goes through his normal routine the rest of that day and night; scrounge up some food, smoke a little, write out some of his campaign or song ideas, end up falling asleep around 9 am, waking up when Wayne leaves for his shift the next evening and deciding “Meh, might as well shower.’’.

So he does, and has just barely stepped out of the tub when the phone in the hall rings.

“Munson Residence, what’d’ya want?”

“Are you ready?”

“Hmm…ready for what, mysterious caller?” Eddie asks, shifting the phone to his other shoulder so he can continue scrunching the water out of his curls.

“For our date.” the caller (Steve, as he can now tell) says as if it’s obvious. “I’m about to head over so make sure you're ready.”

“Steve? Our date–wha?” he starts, but Steve’s already hung up.

“He can’t be serious..” Eddie looks at the clock. 5:30.

Oh shit.

There’s no time to panic about what to wear, Eddie just goes on instinct. He pulls on his one (1) pair of un-ripped jeans, the one (1) semi-nice button up he owns (both thankfully clean), and has only just managed to finish his eyeliner and put on his rings when he hears a knock from the living room.

Eddie scrabbles down the hall and nearly falls flat on his face when he trips on one of his discarded towels from earlier. He kicks it off his foot while trying to put his still damp hair up in a bun.

He exhales a shaky breath at the door, before finally opening it.

Steve stands there on his doorstep in plain, light wash jeans that look like they were painted on, Eddie’s (now, decidedly) favorite navy blue polo, unbuttoned all the way, and his gray Members Only jacket 

“I didn’t think you were serious.” Eddie says, breathless.

“I know.” Steve grins, passing him a bouquet of roses, “You look great, Eddie.”

Eddie balks at the roses in his hand for a smidge too long, because Steve says, “So are you good? We’ve kinda got a timeline here...”, pointing to his watch.

Eddie feels his eyes widen even more (if that’s even possible), but quickly gets the roses shoved into the tallest glass of water he can, and follows Steve to his car, locking the door behind him.

Steve asks him about his day, and there’s nothing much to tell, but they continue to chat idly as Steve drives them through town.

“I thought you said we had reservations.” Eddie jokes as main street flies by outside the window and morphs into the darkening woods outside Hawkins.

“Never said reservations. Someone just assumed.” he says, looking over at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is that not what ‘We kinda have a timeline’ means?”

“Not always.” he smirks, then immediately follows it with: “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Steve.”

“Good, close your eyes.”

Eddie raises a brow at the other man.

“Please?” Steve chuckles, and Eddie obliges, covering his eyes with his hand for good measure.

He feels the car pull off the smooth asphalt of the main highway, and the motions of their new winding path jostle him softly back and forth.

“And here the lovely people of Hawkins thought I was the ritualistic murdering satanist. You taking me out to the woods to sacrifice me Stevie?”

Eddie can hear Steve’s jacket shift against the leather seat when he shrugs. “We gotta make sure the upside down stays shut somehow.”

“Ah, so I’m this year’s unfortunate virgin?”

Steve’s responding snort of laughter is the best thing Eddie’s ever heard. “Yeah, I seriously doubt you’re a virgin.”

“Hmmm…I dunno Steve, you really think I have people clamoring over each other for a shot at all this?” he gestures down himself with his free hand.

“You know what? I hope not; I’ve been in enough fights already, I don’t think I can take an elbow to the face.”

Okay, of all things Eddie thought might happen tonight, Steve admitting he’d legitimately fight for a chance with him (HIm! Eddie Munson!!) wasn’t on the list.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just grins down toward his lap, cheeks burning.

The car pulls to a stop then, and Steve says “Keep your eyes closed!” before he can even think about opening them.

Eddie’s seat sags a bit without Steve’s weight on the other end to balance him out. He hears him shuffle out and shut his door behind him, and doesn’t even get to ten whole seconds before his own door is opened.

“Give me your hands, but keep your eyes closed.” Steve says, grabbing both Eddie’s hands in his.

Steve helps him out of the car and leads them forward about 10 paces before pulling him down to sit beside him on something soft.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Eddie’s immediately blinded by the bright orange glow of the sun, just starting to set on the far side of the quarry before them.

“So no, not a restaurant...just didn’t want to miss this.” Steve says, a smile in his voice that pulls Eddie’s attention away from the blooming pinks and oranges of the sky.

Steve’s already smiling at him when he turns, then he gestures down at the blanket under them.

An honest-to-god picnic basket is set between their outstretched legs, a bottle of something leaned up against it. “So. We’ve got grapes, cheese, sandwiches, chips, pop, and even some wine.”

Holy shit. “What, no chocolate covered strawberries?”

Steve holds up a finger, flips open and digs into the bottom of the basket, retrieving a flat white box. He opens it with a “Ta da!”; a dozen chocolate covered strawberries.

“Damn Harrington, you really know how to make your dates feel special.” Eddie’s throat clenches around the words, as if he’s suddenly remembering this isn’t really for him.

“That’s the idea,” he winks

Eddie flushes red immediately, of course, stammering out a “So this is the King Steve Special, huh?”

Steve glances up at him while he unwraps some of the sandwiches. “Nope, this is the Just Steve Special.” He passes Eddie a bologna and mustard, his favorite (What the fuck??) “King Steve wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble. Would’ve just snuck in a window, made out in some random bathroom at a party.” he shrugs and picks up a ham sandwich for himself (Gross..), taking a bite. “Just Steve is trying all the things he probably should have been doing all along.”

“Well..I enjoy Just Steve’s choice of venue.”

“Even though it’s not a fancy restaurant?” There’s a glob of mayo on his lip (which Eddie thinks is‘Still gross, but also somehow super fuckin’ endearing.’)

“If you were at a fancy restaurant, you couldn’t touch the other person as easily.” Eddie proves his point by knocking a knee against the other man’s. “Also you’d have to wear stuffy fancy clothes.” Eddie shudders for emphasis.

“Says the guy who got dressed up in his nice shirt tonight.”

“Shut up… you’re not supposed to know this is my only nice shirt.”

“If that’s your only one, what are you going to wear on future dates?”

"Only need the one shirt." Eddie shrugs. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, Stevie. Breaking news! Local freak doesn’t go on dates regularly.”

“That just sucks for them then.” Steve places his hand over Eddie’s knee, “Never see how great a date with the Eddie Munson would be.”

Eddie’s face feels hot, but he can’t hold back the grin that climbs up his cheeks.

“Well then aren’t you a lucky guy then, huh Stevie?”

“Yeah Eds, I really am.” Steve is smiling back and holy shit, is he leaning closer?

‘Oh fuck, I am too…ShitShitShitHolySh–’

The klaxon alarms ringing in his head stall out immediately, when a firefly decides to light up the shrinking gap between their noses.

“Ah! Fuck!” Steve flails backwards, throwing himself away from the harmless little bug.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, “Oh come on, you can’t really be scared of a little lightning bug?” He cups his hands in front of the bug’s lazy flight path, catching it in one of his palms.

“Fireflies are weird as shit, man. And yes, I do mean even more so than the demo-whatevers.”

“C’mon Steve, just look at him!” He pushes his hand forward into Steve’s space and giggles a bit at his reaction, somehow unwilling to leave their picnic blanket, but wanting to get away from Eddie’s hand just as much has him practically laying all the way down on his back with his legs still crossed in front of him.

“I’m serious Ed, get that thing away from me!”

There's a hint of a laugh in his voice, so Eddie continues his teasing, sitting up on his knees to get closer. “OOOH what if I put it in your haiiirr..”

Steve’s laugh sounds hysterical, “No! Don’t you fuckin’ dare! Asshole!” he yells, batting at Eddie’s hand.

“Awe come on Stevie! What if he loves yo–and he’s gone.” the little guy flying away when Steve’s hand pulls at Eddie’s extended arm.

Eddie flops forwards onto Steve’s stomach with an “oof!” watching the little thing blink away from them.

“Oh thank god.”

He looks down and holy shit.

Steve’s smiling softly up at him, his hair all mussed from Eddie trying to grab at it and Steve keeping Eddie from grabbing it, but goddamn is he still beautiful.

Also: ‘Holy shit I’m laying right on top of him shitshitshitshit..’

Before he can do something stupid, like lean down and kiss the fuck out of Steve’s beautiful face, Eddie rolls onto his back and looks up at the sky instead, head pillowed on Steve’s arm.

They talk for hours like that. Lain out under the darkening sky. It’s the longest date Eddie’s ever been on.

By the time Steve says “I should probably get you home,” the other fireflies that had danced around them as the sun set have disappeared, the previously clear sky is rolling over with thin clouds, blocking the stars.

The strawberries are gone, the cheese is gone, half the sandwiches, and most of the pop. They hadn’t touched the wine.

Eddie sighs in disappointment. “Yeah, probably.”

They pack up the basket, tossing it and the blanket (wrapped around the unopened bottle of wine) into Steve’s trunk and head back to the trailer.

The ride back is a comfortable quiet.

Windows down to the cooling late summer air, Eddie’s hand dipping and diving on the air currents that fly by, radio playing whatever station Robin had left it on last time plays at a low volume..

Too soon, the wheels of Steve’s trusty beemer crunch over the gravel pad that is Eddie’s driveway.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to the door.” Steve smiles, slipping out the driver side with a hand clasped on the roof.

Just to be a little shit, Eddie doesn’t move. Letting Steve get all the way around the hood of his car before realizing he’s still sitting there.

He stares at him in confusion, so Eddie clarifies. “Oh, I have to get the door myself this time?” he questions, opening the door to another loud laugh from Steve, “You might wanna remember to get the door for your next date, Stevie.”

“Sure Eds, I’ll remember.”

Eddie nods, walking past him and up the steps to the front door with Steve on his heels.

“So? What did you think? How was it?”

Eddie looks up to the ceiling of the porch while he pretends to think about it. “Hmmm…I’m kinda disappointed, actually.” he looks back at his friend, who’s already sporting a kicked-puppy look. “I thought you said I was going to find out how a date with you would end.”

Steve chuckles as Eddie heaves an over-exaggerated, put-upon sigh.

“I said you might, doofus.”

Eddie sighs again, “I didn’t even get a goodnight kiss..” and turns his back to Steve, pulling his keys out of his pocket..

He’s stopped from doing so, however, as Steve hooks a hand above his elbow and pulls Eddie back to him.

His other hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek and Steve leans forward, planting a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips.

Eddie blinks owlishly at him, sputtering as Steve pulls back, eyes blown wide.

So of course this is when he decides to panic. To run.

“So..” Eddie carefully pulls himself free of Streve’s grasp. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.” he manages to say, focusing on keeping his voice even while he turns away to unlock the door.

“Eddie–”

“Any girl would be lucky to go on a date with you.” Damn doorknob always gets jammed.

“Ed–”

“And I would know! I was just on that date, it was great!” Ugh, finally! The knob unlocks with a thick clunk. 

“I don’t want anyone else!”

Everything around them freezes.

Eddie turns slowly to face Steve again. “...What?”

“I don’t want to take anyone else on any more dates! I don’t want the same awkward first date questions, I don’t want the kiss goodnight and that be it, I want something real with someone who knows me. 

“I want you, Eddie.”

Warmth blooms in Eddie’s chest. Hope and affection that’s so damn close to that scary four-letter word already…he pulls Steve in for another kiss without even thinking about it.

Steve kisses him back, soft and slow, before Eddie pulls back enough to whisper “Would you care to see how a date with me usually ends, Stevie?”

Steve doesn’t need to know he’s talking straight outta his ass; Eddie hasn’t had a date that ended at his doorstep like this. No dates at all, in fact, but when Steve gives him a wide-eyed nod, he hauls him inside and down the hall.

Eddie all but throws Steve into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

He sidles forward to the perfect being in front of him and places both hands on his shoulders, spinning them both and pushing Steve backwards onto his bed.

“You wanna know what I’d want someone who took me out for a picnic at sunset to do to me?” he asks, already climbing into Steve’s lap.

“Yeah…yeah,” Steve’s voice is all breath, his hands coming up to rest under the hem of his shirt. “Tell me what you want.”

He leans in close to Steve’s ear, his heart clenching when Steve automatically wraps his arms tighter around him, “I want you to fuck me.”

Sex with Steeeeeve Harrington is something Eddie won’t soon forget.

The feeling of Steve’s hands on him, first his waist, his back, his chest…softly caressing his jaw. The feeling of Steve’s lips on his skin, his length sliding against his own, the feeling of fullness from Steve’s fingers, his cock.

The pace he took, one of a lover and not of just another hook-up. Listening to him, checking in with him.

Eddie silently hoped to whatever being out there that this wasn’t going to be something he’d have to subsist on by memory alone. That this was something he could have for a while to come.

Speaking of…

“Ah! Aw fuck—Steve, please..faster…”

“Fuck—yeah? You want it faster, baby?” 

“Yes! Yes, just like that—oohhh fuck me.”

“You got it darling.” Eddie can hear the smirk in Steve’s voice even though he can’t see it; his head thrown back on his own pillow in pleasure. He can feel the muscles in Steve’s thighs move faster, harder, beneath his.

“I’m cu—oh fuck…Steve, I’m—”

“Yeah, yes, fuuuck me too, Eddie—shit—Eddie, Ed——

…die! Eddie!!”

“Wha–What?”

Eddie blinks. 

They’re back at Family Video.

They’re back at Family fucking Video.

“You okay man? You were zoned out for a second.”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie clears his throat of the weird mix of sadness, arousal, anger, and embarrassment in his voice, “I’m good.”

“You sure? I showed you that girl’s number and you like, completely zoned out.” Steve waves the very much not crumbled and tossed little slip of paper around in his hand while he talks.

“Yeah, I’m good. She just looked familiar somehow, I couldn’t figure it out though.” Eddie lies.

He can’t quite make himself look his friend in the eye, so he only sees Steve’s shoulders sag slightly in relief out of the corner of his vision while he picks at a hangnail. 

“I thought you got Vecna’d, dude. Was about to call a code red over the walkie.”

“Nah, I’m all good Stevie, promise. So where are you gonna take her? Maybe a picnic down at the quarry? Could be cool at sunset..”

“Dude, that's a great idea!” Eddie can hear the excited smile in Steve’s voice.

He risks a glance to the other man’s face and feels his insides screw up in shame. The heat that shoots through him at the sight of those kind eyes he just recently saw hovering over his own is too much to handle. Time to make excuses.

Glancing away immediately, he says “You’re welcome man, have fun.” before pushing himself off the counter and, in the strangest case of deja vu ever, heads to the door while waving over his shoulder. “I gotta run though, good luck with the babes, Steve-o!” he calls, cheerily as he can, not able to look back at the man that will never be his.

i hope you enjoyed lex!!! all i have to say is 😈

now with a pt. 2!

[stevebabey]

and on the final day on august (not where i am hehe) i bring you my fic for @thefreakandthehair summer fanwork challenge! my prompt was nightswimming, its steddie (duh) and she's a baby 2.2k piece <3 | ao3

— hold my hand and tread the water

The water ebbs around his ankles gently and the ripples move across the lake surface like black slicks of ink, twinkles of moonlight catching on crests of the small waves.

Steve swallows thickly.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

It's not Lover's Lake. He knows it's not— he knows that Hawkins and all its crawling rot, through roots and beneath lakes, is miles away from him.

Steve knows that even with the gate closed, if something slipped by- somehow, he can't think of how- but it doesn't matter, if it did, it surely wouldn't be able to reach him here.

It looks an awful lot like Lover's Lake in the shadow of night.

Steve blinks harshly and curls his toes in the sand, grounding himself by burrowing his feet into the soil. The sound of lapping water was once a sound of comfort, connected to a bout of nostalgia — the sort of comfort that can only come with a routine of familiarity.

Swimming used to mean... it was the exhilaration of the dive. It was the pleasant burn in his muscles and the blaze deep in his lungs as he held his breath as long as possible, pushing the limit every time.

It was the gasp, the relief of breaking the surface, a moment of loud noise before he submerged once again, muted rushing water the only sound. It was the long and solid strokes that he carved through water with. Swimming always used to to make him feel strong.

And now... there's this new fear rooted within him.

But, hell, there's lots of things that the years of fighting and surviving the Upside Down had taken from him. Steve will be damned if he adds swimming to the list.

"—Steve?"

Eddie's voice is suddenly beside him, right in his ear, and Steve flinches, dragged abruptly from his wandering thoughts. He tears his eyes from the swirling lake surface to find the other man beside him, brown eyes searching with that glaze of concern. There's a furrow in his brows. Steve feels the warmth of his hand before it lands on his shoulder, tentative and wary.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks quietly, like speaking any louder might spook Steve more. He has this tone to his voice, the one that Steve thinks might be reserved just for him. He hasn't heard Eddie use it on anyone else. His usual loud and raucous voice, so normally used for jeering and loud heckles, completely softened.

It softens Steve every time Eddie uses it.

"We don't gotta do this tonight, if you don't wanna."

"I want to."

The words rush up his throat and stick a little on the way out. Steve clears his throat and digs his feet further into the sand.

One of his hands creeps up his chest til his fingers brush against Eddie's own hand, still holding his shoulder. He meets Eddie's gaze for a moment before an intensity seizes his chest and that recognizable lurch in his heart forces his gaze away.

That lack of courage is new too. Though, that's one thing he can't seem to blame on the Upside Down.

"It's the last one." Steve murmurs, eyes back on the lake ahead of them. Faint crickets fill the orchestra of the night around them, an occasional frog tuning in with a ribbit! Something splashes in the distance.

It is the last one. The last fear to conquer to reclaim back that piece of himself. Through out their whole silly and impromptu road-trip, they've pushed that slimy fear further and further down in Steve. Burning it away, making it smaller, til Steve was feeling bigger and better. They started in a pool, in the daylight, Eddie's open palms and soothing eyes coaxing him back into the water.

Here is the end. The last one. A lake in the night time.

Steve can feel the fear curdling in his gut, the tenseness in his muscles, every single instinct that's kept him alive for the past five years screaming at him to not get in. He feels like a house of cards, ready to topple in the slightest breeze, just drinking in the sight before him. Eddie's hand on his shoulder might be the only thing keeping him steady.

He could leave, could avoid swimming during the nighttime, could retract into himself every time that sticky fear licked up his spine— bringing back memories of vines tight around his ankle, pulling, tugging, drowning him, and— Steve clears the memory with a violent twitch, muscles jumping in their tenseness.

He's so sick of being in survival mode.

Eddie's fingers on his shoulder flex, gifting a comforting squeeze. Steve can see the chipped black polish on them in his peripheral, bare of their usual rings, prepared to swim because Eddie always gets in with him. They always swim together. God, Steve's not sure what he'd do without him.

Steve swallows again, the stone is his throat budging this time as the want surges up deep in his chest; he wants to make some goddamn new memories too.

"Can you..." He murmurs, finally turning his head to peer at Eddie beside him.

"Of course," Eddie answers his unvoiced question easily, beginning to wade into the lake a little further.

The water sloshes around his ankles, climbing up his calves, and Steve's gaze drags up with it, lingering on Eddie's milky white thighs. There's another tattoo there, a sphinx-like character, curled up and stark in it's dark colour against his pale complexion.

Steve hadn't been able to hide his staring the first time they'd swum together — a tiny bright-tiled pool in a motel, one or two states back — completely entranced by the swirling ink and the bareness of Eddie's thighs.

Eddie had caught his gawking with a smug sort of grin and ribbed him for it, tugging the fabric of his swim shorts up higher to show off the full piece. Mercifully, he didn't point out the flush it brought onto Steve's cheeks. Steve had apologised, both for his staring and for doing it in one of the more improper places, but Eddie had only given that wicked beautiful smile.

"M'used to stares, Steve." He said, not nearly as bitter as Steve thinks he's entitled to be considering the man-hunt set on him. "You don't look at me like them."

Looking at the stretch of his thigh now, tattoo partially hidden away, Steve ponders Eddie's words to keep the itch of panic at the back of his neck away. What had Eddie meant? Just how he does look at him?

Some girls like long looks, like feeling eyes raking them up and down hungrily but most of them like skirting glances, always glancing away if they've caught Steve watching. Eager glances at thighs and down chests are certainly not encouraged. It's a game of back and forth. One can't be seen to be too eager, too ravenous.

Except for, Eddie seems the complete opposite. He catches Steve's keen gaze, he spots the staring and relishes in it — like Steve's attention is something is something divine and Eddie will drink in all he can get.

It doesn't feel like it's a prize the way it did in high school, girls vying for King Steve's attention. It feels... Eddie makes it feel like something to revere.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Eddie croons, beckoning Steve into the lake and away from his distracted thoughts. He's got his hand outstretched, palm up, calloused fingers relaxed and inviting Steve to hold them with his own.

He does. He's not sure when it became a thing, holding hands — probably sometime when they upgraded from pools to rivers and lakes — but Steve's grateful for it. Eddie's fingers blanch beneath the tight grip but if it pains Eddie, he makes no move to show it on his face.

Steve grips tighter. When Eddie drifts back a step, the dark water licking an inch higher on his legs, he lets himself be pulled along. Step by step. He keeps his eyes ahead, even as the other peers down into the dark water momentarily.

Eddie gasps and a jolt of fright fires off, deep in Steve's gut. He clutches Eddie's hand tighter and Eddie's head pops up, squeezing Steve's hand back.

"Fucking chilly, is all, okay? My balls are freezing, Jesus. H. Christ."

He does this silly little hop like it's going to help the chill of the night-time lake-water. It's a funny enough sight that Steve doesn't try to stifle his shaky laughter and some of his panic melts away with it. He still doesn't look down.

Eddie scrunches his nose up and then narrows his eyes at Steve. "You're laughing now."

Steve sticks out his tongue — and bites it harshly as the water sweeps up past his waist, submerging his swimming trunks and everything below. Fucking hell, it is cold. Eddie wasn't lying.

As far as each of their swims have been — there's been six altogether, or seven if you count the high bath they took together, which Steve doesn't — this one is going smoother than what he's come to expect. There's still that prickle down his spine, like ice ghosting atop his skin, but Steve can shake it in a shiver.

The water looms higher, swallowing the plains of his stomach and Steve can feel his neck craning up, trying to get taller. Still, he takes the next step. And the next.

Suddenly, there's a brush against his leg— scaly and mucky and he knows it's not what he imagines it to be but there's no clamping down the instinct built in. His heart slams in his chest and his practiced even slow breaths transform into rapid bursts, this dread clawing deep into his gut. Steve can feel his hackles rise, knows his hand must be twisting tighter and tighter in Eddie's grip.

It all shows as a minuscule reaction on his face. Steve knows because Robin told him once—regarded him with that crinkled look once when the panic attack had crept up on him during a shift, then uttered an oh shit! once she realised what was happening.

You're too good at that. She'd told once he'd managed to calm down, head between his knees in the employee room out the back.

What?

Good at hiding it. Robin said, nudging his shoulder. He can't tell from her tone it's a good or bad thing. Maybe, it's neither. You look so calm all the time, even when you're panicking.

Eddie's come to learn the signs too. The specific pinch in his eyebrows, the twitchiness of his lips.

"Woah, woah, hey, hey," He brings the two of them closer, no longer leading them out. Eddie's dark eyes dart across his face, a wrinkle in his brow as he tries to soothe. "Just a stupid fish, nothin' to worry about, you're good."

His hands travel as he speak, shaking off Steve's tight grip to slide up his tan arms. Steve's hands shoot out, desperate to hold something, to cling to something, his big hands enveloping Eddie's wrists as the other rubs gently at his biceps. Fingers curl around the tanned skin and beg Steve closer, beginning to sink down in the water as he does.

"C'mon, you're safe." He murmurs and Steve, hanging onto tight, sinks down with him. The water climbs higher, lapping at his collarbones. Steve clings tighter, clenching up in preparation. "S'just you, me, and the fishies."

"If you think that's all that's in here, you know even less about lakes than I thought," Steve grits out.

"Shit, really?" Eddie asks. Then after another moment, "You think there's crocs in here?"

"You didn't even check?"

Eddie's grin rivals the moonlight, cheeky and delighted. "Course I did," Then he scoffs dramatically, tossing his head back. Some of his hair hits the water with a splash. "Can't believe you don't trust me at all, after all this time together."

A sly smile fights to reach Steve's face; he lets it win. His panic isn't dissolved completely, just lingering in the back— but it's been beat out by his interest in conversation with Eddie, in the strange flirt they keep seeming to do.

"I don't have any trust in you at all since you picked Motel Evergreen and—"

His words get smushed beneath Eddie's palm, warm and soft against his mouth, as the other boy narrows his eyes. "Shut your pretty mouth, Steve. You promised you wouldn't bring that up again."

Even as he threatens, Eddie's eyes light with a mirth and there's that glorious grin on his face and oh god, Steve wants to kiss him.

Like a vacuum, the panic sucks out of him in a single moment as the tide turns and his nerves turn to that. Fuck. Eddie's hand slips from his face, nervous he's gotten too close, too touchy. And, well, Steve's always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so he says;

"Make me."

Something glitters across Eddie's face, a bewilderment dipped with glee. For a moment, his expression shutters as he tries to comprehend what's been said. What's been offered.

He lands on an astute, "What?"

Steve sinks into the lake and kicks off the bottom, water swishing as he starts to tread water. His feet kick and he has half a mind to spray Eddie with a face full of icy lake water but he's got that doe-eyed exuberance that Steve adores, like he's daring to let himself believe what Steve's saying.

So, instead Steve holds his hand out. He treads the water and says, "I said, make me."

Eddie doesn't waste another second.

[artaxlivs]

Let Me Be Your Man (I want to hold your hand)

CW: none * Rating: Mature (frottage) * Pairing: Steve/Eddie * Prompt: Mixtape

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming!” Steve yells when the pounding on his door gains momentum to add to its volume. Grumbling, he peeks out the side window and sees one of the kid’s bikes thrown down in his lawn. Little assholes. 

When he yanks the door open, Mike Wheeler is just raising his fist to pound it against the door again. “I need your help.” His face is red and sweaty with exertion as he shoves past Steve into the house. 

Immediately, Steve reaches into the umbrella stand and pulls out the only thing in it - his nail bat. “What’s happening?” He asks, rounding toward Mike, “Why didn’t you radio or call? What is it? Vecna? Jocks? Where’s everyone else?”

Mike skids to a halt and stares at Steve incredulously. “What? No. Put your bat away, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes. “I need your help.”

Relaxing just a small amount, Steve lets the top of the bat rest on the entryway floor. He probably looks as confused as he feels. “What? Why are you saying it like that? What kind of help?”

Mike huffs, throws his hands up and spins on his heel, stalking into the kitchen. Before Steve follows, he counts to ten, puts his bat away and curses the day he started dating Nancy Wheeler. Always the goddamn babysitter.

At the breakfast counter, Mike is deflating, shoulders drooping in what looks like defeat, chin braced in one hand, elbow pressed against the cool tile. With the other hand he’s tracing the lines of grout between the tiles.

On a whim, Steve detours to the fridge, loading up his arms with the makings for sandwiches. Back at the counter, he pulls out four slices of Wonderbread. “So - what brings you to my door?” He shakes the mayo and Mike nods so he starts to slather it on two of the pieces. Mike nods again to the mustard so Steve slathers that on the other two. Giving Mike the time to gather his thoughts.

“Um, well…I, uh, I like someone.” Mike sighs, looking down at the tile where he’s still tracing the lines. 

Someone not a girl. Someone. Will. It’s gotta be Will. Steve has seen the way that they both look at each other when the other isn’t looking. He and Robin have talked about it, about which one to approach first to let them into their elite Hawkins Gay Club which currently has two members. Not one and a half, Robin. Being bisexual still means he’s a whole gay. Dang it.

“Cheese?” Steve asks, peeling his own out of the Kraft plastic wrap. When Mike nods, Steve pulls out a second one for him. “Turkey or ham?” He pops open both and proceeds to put both on his own sandwich.

“Both, please.” Mike says and then jumps down, well, steps down because his gangly legs are much longer now. He goes over and grabs the salt and pepper from the back of the stove lip and sprinkles some of each on his, raises an eyebrow and when Steve nods, he sprinkles them on Steve’s as well.

Fancy.

“You want lettuce and tomato?” Steve says, slicing his own. Mike does not, he does go into the pantry and grab a bag of chips though because the kids are way too comfortable in Steve’s house apparently. 

“I need your help making a mixtape.” Mike says as sits back down.

Steve frowns. “Why are you here for a mixtape and not at Eddie’s? He’s the music guy.” And really - that’s a no brainer.

Groaning, Mike flops his head down his folded arms on the counter, narrowly missing the bag of chips. “Eddie cannot be trusted to make mixtapes. I was there for four hours, Steve. FOUR HOURS. And all I got was a lesson on ‘real metal versus sell out metal.’” He groans again. “He was so excited to help me but then we just recorded an hour of Black Sabbath songs. W- this person doesn’t even like metal!”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Steve gives Mike an encouraging smile as he cuts their sandwiches in half diagonally. Who cuts sandwiches across the middle? Vecna probably. Monster. “Mixtapes aren’t just about your favorite songs or even their favorite songs. It’s songs that you want to share with them and songs that remind you of them. And, of course, songs that tell them how you feel about them.” He plates both sandwiches and slides Mike’s across the bar. “It helps to know who the person is because mixtapes should be personalized but as long as you know their music, I can probably help you.”

Chewing the first bite slowly, Mike nods like he’s agreeing or gearing up to talk. Steve grabs them each a soda out of the fridge, sliding Mike’s over and taking the bag of chips. “My sister really loved the one you made for her. Well,” He reaches into the chip bag and pulls out a handful before pushing the bag toward Steve, “she still does actually. She plays it sometimes.”

Steve stops with his hand half inside the bag, “She does?”

“Yeaaaah.” Mike drags it out, putting a chip in his mouth but then talking around it. “She said it was the tape that made her realize she needed to break up with you.” Steve makes a little grunt of outrage but Mike pushes through, waving his hand to stop Steve from interrupting. “No, no, she loves that tape. Seriously. She said that listening to it made her realize that you’re the kind of guy who loves forever. But that you loved this girl she made up, she was pretending to be, even though she knew she’d never be that girl again…not after…you know.” He shrugs his bony shoulders and looks down at the counter again.

Without thinking about it, Steve’s eyes flick up to look out of the kitchen window where he can see the corner of the pool. He nods, saying dejectedly, “Yeah, I get that.” 

“And sometimes, when Jonathan is being Jonathan, she listens to it to remind her that you saw her as strong and brave - that’s what she said, strong and brave - before she even saw herself that way.” Mike opens his sandwich and puts down a layer of chips on top of the meat, squishing the top slice of bread back down before taking a bite. These kids are such weirdos. With his mouth full, he continues, “She said it reminds her that she doesn’t need Jonathon. Or any man. That she won’t settle for a life she doesn’t want. Not even for a guy like you.”

“Huh.” Steve replies, taking another bite of his own sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “A guy like me?” 

Rolling his eyes, Mike makes a sound like he’s tasted something bad and says, “Yeah, don’t get a big head. You still suck.”

Steve snorts. The audacity of this kid is truly admirable. He’s still not sure that makes him feel better but Nancy deserves to get what she wants so he can be happy for her. Even if his tape is part of what drove her away. He shakes it off, though, “Okay, so what type of music does this person like?”

They spend the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening going through the tapes and albums Steve has and making a list of the ones that Mike has that he thinks might work. Then they pair them down to make an album that flows, “like a story” Steve tells him. The playlist has a song by Bowie because really every playlist should. One from The Smiths because Steve knows Will loves them even though he doesn’t mention that part to Mike. Mike picks the one metal song that Eddie suggested that he thought made sense, they all sound alike to Steve so he doesn’t pay attention to which one it is. The others are sprinkles of songs both boys have shared memories about.

“It’s really the last song that matters,” he tells Mike. “You’ve laid the groundwork for blending your stories together and that last song is the one you have to be brave with. The words matter. That’s the song where you say what you wanna say. Even if it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done.”

Mike nods slowly, like he’s really focusing on the meaning behind Steve’s words.

The last song, after the Mike and Will songs, after it’s clear that this is a story of the two of them together , is “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” by the Beatles. It’s the only song like it on the whole tape so it stands out clearly. It’s a love song without being slow and romantic. It’s honest. And it says, “let me be your man.” So there are no wrong pronouns. Again, Steve doesn’t mention it. 

After running by the Wheeler’s to pick up a few of Mike’s tapes, they pull by the trailer park and Mike runs in to borrow the one that Eddie suggested. At the trailer door, Eddie looks over at Steve waiting in his car and gives him a head nod. Smiling fondly, Steve wonders if those two know how dorky they look in their matching Hellfire shirts and cut off jeans, if Eddie is aware that Mike is trying very hard to be as cool as he thinks Eddie is. Probably not. Eddie is pretty oblivious. 

Case in point, Steve’s been hitting on him for weeks with not a single sign that Eddie is aware of it at all.

Maybe Steve should make him a mixtape. He gives a little finger wave that Eddie returns, looking thoughtful as Mike lopes back to the car with his goofily long arms and legs flailing and throws himself into the passenger seat. Steve backs out and drives away, watching Eddie get smaller and smaller in the rearview.

Steve picks them up burgers on the way back to his house and then they lay on his floor next to his big fancy stereo, recording the songs in order, from tape to tape. When they get to the Beatles song, Steve makes an excuse about cleaning up the kitchen and leaves Mike with the tape insert and a pen. 

When he comes back, Mike’s folding a piece of notebook paper and tucking it inside the case as well. He must have had a lot to say. His eyes are a little red rimmed but Steve pretends not to notice of course.

In the Wheeler driveway, after he helps Mike dislodge his bike from where they half tucked it into the Bimmer trunk and just let the lid sit on it because it doesn’t actually fit all the way, Steve leans against the car with his arms and ankles crossed, trying to look as relaxed as he can. He wants to say something, let Mike know he’s a safe person to talk to. That they’re alike. He’s not sure how to without scaring him, though.

“Uh…thanks for this, man.” Mike snorts a laugh and gives that snotty side smile of his, “Maybe Dustin’s right about you.”

Steve grins, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, “You don’t totally suck.” But then he grins back all cocksure like the almost sixteen year old that he is.

Scoffing, Steve kicks out and hits one of Mike’s bike tires with his shoe, “Thanks, asshole.” Pushing off the car, he starts to turn away but then, “Hey, if it’s who I think it is, you can talk to me - I…I get it. Understand?” He makes sure he catches Mike’s eye so the kid can’t look down and away like he usually does. Steve sees the flash of fear but it’s quickly replaced with hope, maybe even trust.

Mike just nods and Steve gets out of there before he embarrasses the poor kid again. On his drive home, he rolls the windows down, turns his car radio up too loud and sings along, uncaring that he’s probably out of tune. 

Steve’s been home for maybe an hour when someone knocks on his door again. There’s less noise this time but it’s still just solid pounding without giving him the chance to get to the door. Everyone he knows is an asshole apparently.

“Alright, alright, keep it in your–” He yanks open the door and finds Eddie standing there still wearing his ripped cutoffs and his Hellfire shirt. Well, the version two that he designed for the club when he handed it down after graduation. “-pants.”

Eddie smiles, sly and flirty, “You sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “What are you gonna do when I call your bluff someday?” Because although Steve has been honestly flirting with Eddie, Eddie’s just been over the top hitting on Steve with innuendos and double entendres that don’t mean anything serious. Well, Steve can’t tell if they mean anything serious at least.

Which is part of why Steve hasn’t at least tried to make a move.

“We’ll see when that day comes I guess.” Eddie leans in and taps on Steve’s chest with the tip of his pointer finger. “I made you something Big Boy.”

There’s a circle of burning fire in the spot where Eddie’s finger was. His touches always seem to leave flames in their wake. Steve wonders if Eddie feels them, too “Is it dinner? Because I already ate with Baby Wheeler.”

“Nope.” Eddie drags out the “p” making a popping sound. “Baby Wheeler mentioned you were helping him with his mixtape - said you were some kind of expert.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Steve nods, admitting, “I don’t know about expert. Sorry, though, didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

“No, no, it’s cool.” Eddie leans his shoulder against the door jamb which is weird because he’s usually pushed past Steve to make himself at home by this point. Or Steve has invited him in. But they’re just standing here in the open doorway. “Besides - Wheeler informed me that I suck at mixtapes. Something about telling a story and not shoving metal down people’s throats.”

Steve crosses his arms defensively, “Don’t take it personally. You’re great at dragon stories. Gotta leave something for the rest of us to be good at.” He’s looking down so he misses the expression that accompanies the scoff Eddie gives but it sounds exasperated.

“Well.” Eddie says, bringing Steve’s eyes back up to him as he pulls a cassette tape out of his vest pocket. “Anyway, here.”

It shouldn’t make him feel the way it does. But it does. Steve’s heart flutters and his stomach swoops and the finger that brushes Eddie’s as he takes the tape feels like it’s charged with lightning. He’s still not sure, though, it could be that kind or it could just be Eddie trying to prove that metal is the best.

Before he can stop himself, he asks, “You made me a mixtape?” And the hopefulness in his voice is as clear as day. But then it’s met with a look in Eddie’s eyes - fear, denial, like he wants to take it back, so Steve pivots, teasing, “Is it an hour of metal? Did you do a voice over?”

Rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands into his vest pockets, Eddie hisses, “No. Jerk.”

After a moment of indecision, Steve asks hesitantly, “Do you..do you wanna listen to it together?”

There’s fear in Eddie’s eyes again and he takes a wary step back, “Uh - no. No, that wouldn’t be a great idea.” He swings his arms, snapping and bringing the flat of one hand against the curled first of the other before pointing finger guns at Steve. It’s so horribly awkward that Steve is filled with hope again. “Uh, yeah, it’s, um, it’s just for you, man.” He’s clearly nervous and waves of anxious energy are almost rolling off of him as he spins and walks away, throwing a confident, “See ya Harrington!” over his shoulder but Steve’s not fooled at all. 

“Oh you will, Munson.” Steve calls after him, slow smile growing when Eddie’s shoulder’s visibly hunch before he leaps into his van and pulls away, tires practically squealing with the force of him gunning it. 

Huh. Interesting.

Closing the door, Steve goes over to the phone on the entryway table where he leaves his keys and Family Video vest every night. He dials and after two rings, Robin picks up, “Thank you for calling Family-oh damn it, I mean, hello?”

“You’re such a mess.” Steve snorts.

“Fuck you Harrington, you’re such a mess!” She whisper shouts, because if her dad hears her cussing, she'll be grounded until she leaves for college.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.” Steve assures her. “But listen - Mike came over earlier–”

“Mike?!” She actually shouts this time. “Is there a Code Red? What happened? Why didn’t you call me?” There’s the distinct sound of her rolling off of her bed and scrambling for shoes or clothes.

“Calm down, you ninny.” He sighs. “We are scarily alike.”

“Duh.” Then she makes an oof sound as she flops back onto her bed.

“I thought the same thing because when does Mike ever willingly talk to me?” 

“Like, never. Unless it’s to make fun of you – ohhh wait, did he come to talk about Will?” She squees. “Did the baby gay come to get advice from his babysitter?”

Steve laughs, switching the phone to his other ear and sitting down on the carpeted stairs. He should have made this call from his bedroom where he could have laid on his bed, too late now. “Sort of? He asked for my help making a mixtape for ‘someone’ but didn’t tell me who and I didn’t out him by asking but when I dropped him off at home, I hinted that I knew and he could talk to me.”

“Ohhhh Steve, that’s so adorable. If I remotely liked any of your children, I’d be touched.” She straight out lies because they all know she adores Max like a little partner in crime. “Why you though? Why not Eddie?”

“That’s what I said!” He laughs and then dives into telling her the whole story. Eddie’s metal sell out lesson, the hours of pouring over music, Nancy’s love of his mixtape that he made for her back in high school. She comments and laughs at all the right places because they are of one mind, as always. Then though, then, he drops the bomb.

“So, the reason I’m calling is because Eddie showed up at my door. With a mixtape. For me. And he declined my offer to listen to it together.” Steve twists the cord around his finger, waiting until the skin turns red before unwinding it.

“Oh my god! What’s on it?” She shouts, “And why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I don’t know what’s on it. I haven’t listened to it yet.”

“Why not, you dingus?!” Robin screeches then she adds in a subdued tone, “Do you think…?” 

In an equally subdued tone he replies, “I don’t know. I think that’s why I called you first. I’m a little scared to get my hopes up.”

She makes a little noise of agreement. She’s been there.

“And I just…I’m not his type at all. And I know that. But he’s so…” Steve sighs and lays back on the stairs awkwardly, it’s not comfortable at all but it’s keeping him focused. “He’s loud and brash and annoying and I like that because I’m not. But he’s also sweet and squishy and brave and so fucking funny. Argh.”

“And you already got your hopes up when he dropped it off and you don’t want to be disappointed?” Robin asks gently because she really does know him so well.

“Yeah,” he tells her in a hushed voice. “His face when he handed it over, Rob. He was nervous. And then he practically ran away.”

“Well, idiot, you won’t know until you listen.” She says matter-of-factly and he can almost hear her brushing off her hands and standing up. “Buck up. You want me to come over and listen to it with you?”

“Nah. I want to hear it the first time on my own.” That way he can cry before he has to face her if that’s where this is going. “I’ll call you if I need you, though, k?”

“You know I’m always here for you.”

He does.

After they hang up, Steve doesn’t waste anymore time. He doesn’t want to give himself any time to think so he heads into the living room and pops it into the tape deck he and Mike had just recorded ‘someone’s’ tape on. Laying back on the floor he lets the first song play. 

He doesn’t recognize the first chords but the recording itself is kinda fuzzy, like it’s a live version of something. It’s an acoustic guitar, slow but building. When the voice comes in, Steve sits up and turns toward the speaker. It’s Eddie.

I was always trapped. Drowning in this small town, Dragged down by small minds To the bottom of the lake. Spent most of my days  on the run from myself. Running from the me I wasn’t ready to be. Trapped in this small town  with these small minds. That is, until you. Until there was you. You stood your ground. Stood up for mine, too. And I never ran as fast  as I did to you.

There’s a guitar break. It’s beautiful, simple, a slow melody that builds with Eddie’s voice almost trembling when it comes back in.

You’re the boy The boy who stops the world. Stops it from spinning Out of my reach. I want to run to you. But we’re stuck in this town With these small minds, That drag us down. I just wanna be free Free to love you. I only wanna run If you’ll catch me.  In this small town In this small town

The song fades out and there’s the sound of Eddie’s breathing, it catches like he’s going to say something but then exhales and the recording clicks off. Steve speeds through the tape and flips it over and does the same to the other side. The rest of it is empty. He plays the song again. Listening with his eyes closed this time.

Then he jumps up, ejects the tape, grabs his keys and fumbles with the lock on the way out. He doesn’t let himself think. Just plays the song over and over for the fifteen minute drive to the trailer park. All the lights in the trailer are on and the music in Eddie’s room is blaring loud enough that Steve can hear it in his car with his own music still on.

He still doesn’t stop to think, just rushes out of the car and up the steps to pound on the door and when Eddie opens it with wide eyes and a healthy dose of fear on his face, Steve thinks for a second that he should say something, confirm that it’s a song written for him - about them both - but he can’t. Or he’ll chicken out. 

So, instead, he just steps into the trailer, forcing Eddie to take a step back, pushes the door shut behind him and whispers, “Too many small minds out there.” And kisses Eddie. 

It’s a good kiss too. Steve cradles Eddie’s head and tilts him just enough that he can get the perfect angle to …what’s the word in all those trashy books? Ravish. Steve ravishes Eddie’s mouth. It’s not sweet, it’s desperate and filled with need and when he finally lets go, Eddie’ lips are swollen and kiss bitten.

“I hope that song was telling me you like me or this is going to be a very awkward conversation.” Steve says when Eddie’s eyes flutter open.

“I’d have made you a whole mixtape but Wheeler told me this afternoon that the final song is the one that really matters.” Eddie grins then, wide and impish, swooping in to catch Steve’s mouth with his own. When he comes up for air, he whispers, “Besides, where was I gonna get an hour of ABBA songs?”

Growling, Steve walks Eddie backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he sits. “I’m more of a Springsteen fan, actually.” He says as he climbs into Eddie’s lap and swoops down for a kiss.

It’s frenzied and graceless, like the two desperate kids they still are. Neither of them old enough to buy a six pack of beer and both overflowing with the sexual tension they’ve built up between them. Steve can’t seem to stop kissing Eddie long enough to do anything more than grind himself down against Eddie’s lap. 

Luckily, Steve’s been in his old basketball shorts all day and Eddie changed into sweats sometime after he’d gotten home so there’s nothing but a few layers of cotton between their rock hard boners. 

Jesus, it feels like the first time Steve dry humped with some girl back in freshman year. But like, a thousand times better. Not just because they both have dicks but because it’s Eddie .

He rolls his hips, brushing their aforementioned dicks together and swallows Eddie’s groan. Eddie’s hands are on Steve’s hips, guiding him as he rolls them, flexing his hands around the softness there. When Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hands slip around and squeeze his ass, cupping it and helping him press their laps together. One of them whines as their dicks slot together just right and they both thrust against each other. 

“Stevie, fuck. Yes,” Eddie swears, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Then his tongue is back in Steve’s mouth, sliding along Steve’s, sucking on his bottom lip. He licks and nips and bites his way down Steve’s throat, probably leaving bruises and Steve should care about that but he doesn’t.

“Eddie, Eddie - I need,” It’s too fast, Steve knows he can last so much longer than this but he can’t seem to slow down. “Oh, god.”

“What, Stevie?” Eddie manages between grunts as they rut against each other desperately, “What do you need?”

Oh god, he’s almost there, Steve feels the warmth pooling in his belly, the muscles in his legs straining, the droplets of precome sticking to his underwear and Eddie’s hard cock pushing against the length of his own as he cries, “You, fuck, just you.” And then he comes, arching and fucking against Eddie. One hand buried in the hair at Eddie’s nape and the other digging his fingernails into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pulls Steve tight to his chest, one hand around his back, holding Steve close while he comes. Eddie’s still thrusting against Steve, rolling and pressing with his hips until he, too, arches and comes with a hoarse shout.

When Eddie relaxes back against the couch, Steve collapses in his lap, head resting on Eddie's shoulder, breath hot against his collarbone. Both fucked out and exhausted.

Minutes later, once the aftershocks have subsided for both of them and Steve’s sweaty forehead is pressed into the side of Eddie’s sweaty neck, Steve admits, “Fine, I like ABBA but who doesn’t? Those songs are catchy.”

Eddie snorts a laugh out. Then, it's a little gross, but they both start laughing and have to peel their damp crotches away from each other. Totally worth it, though, when Eddie brings Steve's hand up to his mouth, kissing the palm before he threads their fingers together so he can hold Steve's hand.

Thanks to @thefreakandthehair for hosting this challenge! It was super fun and I'm so glad I actually made it in under the deadline. Skin of my teeth!

Here's the Ao3 link if you want to drop me some love there - comments make my brain buzz and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the perfect Mike/Will or Steve/Eddie mixtape playlist!

[riality-check]

It’s my birthday, so you all get a fic!

Summary:

“Why is he coming toward us with the gun?”

Wayne is, in fact, walking toward the car, still holding the good rifle.

Steve has never been threatened by someone else’s parent before. He’s good with adults. Charming, even. He asks them what they do for work and answers all of their questions with polite smiles and light laughter. Steve is good at winning over the parents of people he’s dated. Hell, even Ted Wheeler begrudgingly had a positive opinion on him.

So, in his panic, he does the only thing he can think of: He throws the Beemer in reverse and pushes the gas pedal down to the floor.

On June 22nd, 1985, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson break the speed limit, teach each other to dance, get into a bar fight, vandalize property, evade the law, piss off a farmer, smoke, and watch the sun rise.

And all the stress, panic, bruised knuckles, and anxiety about ass splinters during that night was completely, utterly, and hilariously unnecessary.

[hxneyfarm]

the anatomy of a home run

written for lex's spicy six summer challenge | rating: E | word count: 5.7k | prompt: baseball | cw: barebacking, virgin eddie munson | READ ON AO3

beta and editing by the incomparable @steves-strapcollection <3

First Base

The first time they fool around, it’s not so much fooling around as it is an impulsive makeout session wherein Eddie finds himself sat astride Steve’s lap with his hands in his hair. Steve’s hands are fisted in Eddie’s tee shirt and they’re panting into each other’s mouths, sucking on each other’s lips and tongues and swallowing one another’s moans, and Eddie’s cock is straining against his fly so hard it’s a fucking miracle the zipper hasn’t popped. 

Eddie doesn’t know shit about baseball but he’s pretty sure this is first base. Right?

They’re not touching each other, not really, not in a way that matters, but the air between them is hot and sticky, the summer humidity clinging to their skin. Eddie’s hair is plastered to the back of his neck with sweat while Steve’s mouth learns the shape of his throat and his teeth scrape lightly across his Adam’s apple.

If Eddie were to spread his legs a little more, if he were to fully sit down in Steve’s lap, he’d have to live with the knowledge forever that Steve is erect beneath him. For now, he can’t handle that. He can’t cope with the knowing, with his own anxieties that he’s never gone further than this before, that at the rate they’re going he’s eventually going to get to watch Steve come under his hands or his mouth or fuck, maybe on his cock.

“Steve,” he groans, pulling back a little as Steve’s hand creeps beneath the collar of Eddie’s shirt to rest against the notch in his throat. “Fuck, sweetheart, much as I’d love to keep doing this… don’t you have a job to get to? A Robin to pick up?”

Steve’s voice comes out as something between a growl and a purr, his teeth latching onto the bolt of Eddie’s jaw and he murmurs, “When did you become the responsible one?” 

“I’m gonna be so very honest with you, Stevie, I’m mostly just nervous I’m gonna bust in my jeans if we keep going.”

With a mean smile, Steve grips Eddie’s hips and presses them firmly together. The hard line of Steve’s cock drags over Eddie’s and punches a whine from one of them - Eddie, probably - and if they don’t put a stop to this soon the single will turn into a double and then Eddie’ll hit a home fucking run all over this stupid threadbare couch that Wayne managed to save from the old trailer.

Just when Eddie’s ready to stop Steve, to tell him it’s time for them to dial it back and pick this up another time when Steve doesn’t have a clock ticking down to his scheduled shift, Steve pats him on the thigh and starts to push him up. He’s sighing unhappily as he does it, like this is the last thing he wants, too, but responsibilities are starting to outweigh desire and y’know what? Eddie’s pretty fucking proud of their self control, even if he is still hard as a rock in his jeans.

“Come over tonight?” Steve asks as he stands and adjusts his monster of a cock in his own jeans. “We can pick this back up then?”

Eddie wants to ask, What is this? What are we? What does this mean to you?

What he says instead is, “Sure. Gonna show me second base?”

Steve captures his mouth in another hard, wet kiss and murmurs, “Keep talkin’ baseball to me, babe. You’ve got no idea how hot it makes me.”

“Of course it fucking does,” Eddie huffs. “Get to work, slugger, I’ll see you tonight.”

***

Second Base

Eddie realizes he’s not gonna make it past second base tonight the moment Steve gets his hand on his cock. They barely manage to get Eddie’s jeans and boxers down. They’re hanging off of one of Eddie’s legs now and Steve’s got him laid out on the bed, his fingers pressing into the give of Eddie’s thighs, spreading them apart for him to lie between them, while his mouth zeroes in on that spot on his throat that made Eddie keen earlier. 

Steve’s hand is big and firm and warm when his fingers wrap around Eddie’s dick and there are fucking stars dancing behind his eyes, his voice coming out in broken whimpers and he finds himself spreading even further for Steve. He wants to touch him, wants to guide Steve’s cock to his hole and beg to be fucked dry if that what it takes to get him inside.

Eddie’s hands, clumsy and distracted, tug at the fly of Steve’s jeans to draw him out and stroke him -- hopefully, god fucking willing -- at the same rhythm that Steve is stroking him. When he finally manages to shove Steve’s pants down to bunch around his thighs and gets his hand on him -- the skin of his cock smooth and hard beneath his palm -- Steve hisses and nips hard at the skin of Eddie’s neck.

Steve pulls away, just a little, just enough to spit on his fucking hand before getting back to work on Eddie’s cock, and Eddie barks out something that might have been fuck or it might have been Steve’s name but there’s too much ringing in his ears to be sure. Steve is leaking all over him, the sound of his hand stroking through the precome nearly as loud as their panting breaths.

“Faster,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s neck, “give it a twist near the head, baby, yeah fuck that’s it. ”

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. He tosses his head back, the hot breath on his throat making him dizzy and warm.

Steve’s pace is quick and dirty, the pressure relentless as he draws little noises out of Eddie on every upstroke. He digs his thumb into the slit of Eddie’s cock and there’s starbursts in his head with the intensity of it.

“There’s no fuckin’ way you never did this before,” he whines, and Steve’s breath on his throat comes out in a huff of a laugh, followed by a quick lick and kiss to the pulse point there.

“Just on myself,” Steve insists. “ Fuck, Eddie. So hot, you’re so fucking hot. Leaking everywhere for me like this. So wet.”

Eddie tries to tell him, You too, but it comes out garbled, unintelligible nonsense around a broken off cry when Steve tightens his grip and quickens his pace.

“Not -- hah, oh god -- not gonna last, Eds. Your hand -- fuck -- keep thinkin’ about how I’m gonna come all over your hand.”

“ Oh, fuck yeah, Stevie. Fuckin’ paint me with it, sweetheart, shit. ”

Steve’s hips are moving now, thrusting to meet Eddie’s strokes and Eddie’s hyper aware of his own hips doing just the same. The wet tip of Steve’s cockhead brushes up against Eddie’s and leaves a slick trail of precome behind to mix with his own. Eddie’s head is swimming, the heavy feeling in his gut tightening as his release draws closer, closer.

Steve kisses him, their tongues meeting in the scant space between their lips, and it’s so brief Eddie thinks it might not have even really been a kiss at all because then Steve is using his other hand -- the one not currently bringing Eddie’s entire world to its fucking knees -- to push his tee shirt up to rest at the dip in his throat. Steve’s mouth moves to bite at his chest, lick and suck at Eddie’s nipple as they thrust against one another.

Eddie’s free hand fists into the soft silky hair there and holds Steve in place, a silent plea for more attention to that nipple and Steve gets it, draws it into his mouth and adds teeth.

“Oh, fuck, Steve, yeah -- yeah, god, shit, just -- just like that, fuck! ”

“Gonna come?” Steve asks. “Gonna -- Eds, you gonna come with me? Close, baby, so close.”

“Yeah, yeah me too. Just a little more.”

“Can’t wait to fuck you. Can’t wait to get inside you, Eds, make you scream my name.”

“ God. ”

The rhythm of Steve’s hips is beginning to stutter and everything in Eddie’s brain is abandoning ship, rushing to his dick where he’s sure it’s about to spurt out all over Steve, paint him with jizz and brain matter and every ounce of fluid in his fucking body at this point. He’s gonna say something stupid, gonna tell Steve that he fuckin’ loves him or some shit because he’s never been this fucking keyed up before. 

He meets Steve for a kiss again, and it’s wet and sloppy and Steve is swallowing the noises Eddie’s making -- his whimpers and his whines and his desperate moans -- and giving those sounds right back to him in kind.

“Here, here,” Steve whispers, frantic, knocking Eddie’s hand away from his cock so that he can take them both in his massive hand and Eddie sees fucking stars.

Steve’s cock, hot and smooth and weeping at the tip, is dragging along the length of Eddie’s own, the head catching on Eddie’s and smearing their precome together. Steve lets loose this fucking whimper, so raw and fucked out it barely even sounds like him at all, and Eddie feels the way his cock twitches a split second before the hot dampness of his release splashes against Eddie’s stomach, his pubic hair, the head of his dick, and then Eddie is throwing his head back with a shout to empty himself into Steve’s hand.

It comes in fucking waves. Eddie’s never come this hard in his life. He feels like he might be turning inside out from the force of it, wrung dry, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a drum.

“ Holy Christ, ” Eddie breathes in the aftermath, his head swimming and his fingers tingling. His mouth is dry and he’s hot all over. His muscles throb and their combined spend on his skin is cooling, feels a little gross but goddamn if it’s not the hottest thing Eddie has ever experienced.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, flopping onto the bed beside him. “Holy Christ, Eds. Why weren’t we doing this months ago? ”

“Thought you were fuckin’ straight.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m not?”

“Still trying to wrap my fuckin’ head around it, honestly.”

“I meant it,” Steve says quietly. “I really do wanna fuck you.”

“Take a guy to dinner first, though, huh?” Eddie jokes.

“Mmm, maybe I will. Seafood or Italian?”

“Seafood. I can put away some crab legs.”

Steve makes a face. “Bet you look so sexy with melted butter all over your mouth.”

“Oh, I’m sure. ”

They don’t talk about how it’d be dangerous for them to go out on a very public date, or how they’re going to tell the others about this development in their friendship. They don’t talk about what they are. They laugh about the drying cum on Eddie’s skin, and the way Steve shook apart when he climaxed, and the size of Steve’s cock in comparison to Eddie’s.

But they steer clear of feelings. They steer clear of vulnerability. 

Eddie will have to tell Steve eventually that he’s got very real feelings here, that he wants Steve to be his boyfriend and not just a buddy he fucks around with, but he figures he can test those waters out a little later, maybe after he’s gotten Steve’s cock in his mouth. Or after they go all the way. If he’s gonna destroy their friendship he might as well lose his virginity first, right?

This is gonna suck when Steve inevitably tells him he doesn’t feel the same way.

***

Third Base

Eddie’s not entirely sure how this is supposed to work. He’s never sucked a dick before in his life. He’s thought about it, fantasized about it all the way back in the day when his older friends were starting to get their first girlfriends and getting sucked off for the first time, but… the reality of it is so much different than his fantasies.

For one, Steve’s cock is… well, massive might be overselling it a little bit. It’s sure as shit not small, though. Eddie’s worried he might have to actually unhinge his jaw like a weird snake creature just to get him in his mouth all the way. For another thing… what’s Eddie gonna do when Steve comes? Will he take it in his mouth, swallow it down? Is he supposed to? What if he gags on it? What if it tastes terrible and makes him choke?

When the time comes, though, Eddie’s worry is stripped from him with the quickness of his own jeans being stripped from his thighs and tossed across the room.

He’s barely even hard yet, and Steve’s mouth is enveloping him in wet heat.

“Fuck, Stevie, I was gonna suck you off.”

“You can do me next,” Steve tells him, drawing off enough to stroke him to full hardness before getting back to work. “Been dying to get my mouth on you for ages.”

Oh, fuck, Eddie is going to make a fool out of himself here. He’s barely been hard for a full minute and already the tug in his gut is telling him it’s almost time, that he’s going to come in Steve’s mouth before they’ve even really gotten started here.

“Fuck, Stevie. Not gonna last, sweetheart, it’s so -- Jesus fuck, there! ”

Steve pulls back, gives Eddie some relief as he squeezes the base of his dick.

“That good?” Steve asks, his smirk cocky and teasing.

“Don’t get a big head about it, okay?”

Steve is kneeling between his legs, and from his place there he looks up at Eddie from beneath those long beautiful eyelashes, Eddie’s cock resting against his bottom lip, and he maintains eye contact as he presses the tip of his tongue to Eddie’s slit.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Mmm, first time, huh?”

Eddie says, “Fuck you,” but it comes out breathless, his voice a little wrecked, and Steve chuckles deep in his chest before taking Eddie to the fucking hilt again.

Eddie throws his head back, closes his eyes, his hand resting gently in Steve’s hair as he just gives himself over to wet heat and suction.

He does his best not to thrust into Steve’s throat, but it’s so hard. Steve’s drooling on him, pearly strings of spit connecting his lips to the tight ring of his fingers where he holds Eddie’s cock steady. It’s a fucking sight when Eddie’s brave enough to actually look at him.

And the sounds Steve is making -- the wet squelch of his mouth around Eddie’s dick, the low groans in the back of his throat when Eddie twitches for him, the literal fucking slurping noises as he applies that delicious fucking suction to the head -- they’re all threatening to do Eddie in once and for all.

Eddie’s not entirely sure how long it’s been -- might be five minutes, might be fucking two seconds for all he knows -- but it becomes very clear very quickly that Eddie’s gonna blow. He hears himself mumble out a vague warning as if from far away, grabbing at Steve’s hair and shoulders to push him back rather than come in his mouth but Steve holds firm, sucks him down to the root of his cock and opens his throat.

Steve gags on him and that’s what fucking does it. Eddie’s vision goes white and he cries out when the coil in his gut finally snaps. His eyes cross and his hips stutter and he floods Steve’s mouth with his spunk but Steve… Steve moans like it’s the nectar of the gods and he drinks Eddie down, his throat bobbing as he swallows, his lips still wrapped tightly around the head of Eddie’s dick.

When it’s over, after Steve has milked the last of Eddie’s release from him and he’s beginning to get too sensitive to let it go on, Eddie pushes him back and collapses onto Steve’s bed.

“Jesus,” he pants. “ Shit, Steve, where’d you learn to do that?”

“Does it matter? Just made you come in…” he checks his watch, “three minutes.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Eddie should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he came, but he isn’t. “Take it as a compliment, alright?”

“Oh, I do. You lasted longer than I did my first time.”

“Yeah? King Steve comes early, then, does he?”

“Wanna test that theory?”

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m gonna be any good at it,” Eddie admits quietly. “Especially, like… I’ve never…”

“Me either” Steve shrugs.

“Yeah, but you’ve received a lot of blowjobs, so.”

“I have, but…” Steve pauses, like he’s not sure he wants to say what he’s about to. “I haven’t had one from you. I think… even if you aren’t experienced, I think it’ll probably be the best one I’ve had. Because, like… it’s you. ”

Eddie scoffs. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

“Told you already, Eds,” Steve says, getting on the bed to take Eddie’s mouth in a kiss. “Just you. Always just you.”

Even as he presses Steve to his back and pops the fly of his jeans, Eddie is nervous. Even as he drags those jeans down Steve’s thighs, his heart is racing. Even as he spreads Steve’s legs on either side of his own body, Eddie can’t fucking believe this is happening. He strokes Steve a little bit, occupies their mouths with more kissing while he works up the nerve to finally get him in his mouth.

Eddie’s going to be terrible at this.

He puts his all into it anyway. What he lacks in experience, he is determined to make up for in sheer enthusiasm alone, so he stores his anxiety away in the back of his mind and he gets to work. He swallows Steve down as far as his gag reflex will let him -- barely halfway down his fucking shaft, apparently -- and he listens to Steve groan above him.

“So warm, baby,” Steve whispers. “Use your tongue.”

Glad for the direction, Eddie uses the flat of his tongue to stroke up the underside of Steve’s cock, pleased when Steve makes a little noise of pleasure above him. He sucks on the head and Steve jerks a little bit. He presses the tip of his tongue into the slit of Steve’s cock, the way Steve did for him, and there’s a hand tightening in Eddie’s hair.

Oh, so he likes that.

Eddie does it again before sliding his mouth a little further down and doing his level best to open his throat but he gags anyway, and the sensation must do something for Steve because his dick twitches out a blurt of precome against the back of Eddie’s tongue.

Eddie moves, bobbing his head and licking at the glans of Steve’s dick and Steve is chanting yeah, yeah, yeah above him in time with his movements. His back is arching a little bit, his head thrown back, and the hand not in Eddie’s hair is fisted in his blanket like he’s holding on for dear life.

He takes Steve down again, as far as he can, and Steve’s moan when he gags again is high pitched and tightly wound.

“Eddie, oh my god, fuck, you’re -- you’re gonna make me come, babe.”

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest at the pet name. He loves that -- loves it when Steve calls him babe.

Eddie pulls back, focuses a little more on the head again, and Steve’s hips actually do begin to buck up to shove his cock deeper in Eddie’s mouth. Eddie sucks hard, and Steve cries out, goes tense, his voice loud and frantic as he warns Eddie.

“Now, now now now, Eds, I’m --”

And he does. And Eddie takes it. It tastes fucking awful but Eddie swallows it anyway, each heavy spurt hot and slick on his tongue. He gags through it and it makes Steve whine even as he pulls his softening cock from Eddie’s mouth.

“Beautiful,” Steve whispers. He sits up and reaches for Eddie, pulls him to crawl up his body until he’s straddling Steve’s hips and kissing him deeply, the taste of them mingling in the kiss and making Eddie hot all over again.

“God, Eds, you’re so good, so fucking good for me,” Steve whispers against the kiss. “Wanna do this with you forever, babe. Forever. Fuck. I’m all yours, Eds.”

Eddie could cry at the declaration. He is so certain it’s just the orgasm afterglow talking, that Steve can’t possibly feel that way for real, but god, if there was ever a chance for Eddie to reciprocate out loud, it’s now.

“Forever,” Eddie hears himself say, echoing the sentiment, and Steve is dragging the shirts off of both their backs and tucking them beneath the covers on his big, soft bed. He pulls Eddie close, their lips meeting again and again, their legs tangling and knees knocking together. “Think I love you, Stevie.”

Steve brushes the hair away from Eddie’s face and whispers, “Tell me again tomorrow when you’re not riding the third base high and I might believe you.”

“I mean it,” Eddie insists, doing everything he can to inject as much confidence and certainty into his voice as he can. “Been meanin’ to tell you for… for weeks, okay? I just… you’re outta my league, Harrington.”

Steve kisses him again, groaning as he does. “You gotta stop with these baseball metaphors. I can’t get it up again yet but you’re makin’ me wanna try.”

***

The Home Run

When Eddie was fourteen, he learned the chords and lyrics to MeatLoaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light, and that’s been the extent of his baseball knowledge, intentionally, ever since. He’s having flashbacks now, the lyrics of that song sitting heavily in his head and in his gut as Steve drags him by the shirt to the backseat of the Beamer. 

It’s a humid night, the rain showers from earlier in the day did nothing to cool it down and made the air muggy and thick, even all the way out here on the edge of town where they’re parked. They’ve been sitting in the car in the field out past Merrill’s famous pumpkin patch for the better part of two or three hours, just talking and trying to figure out where their relationship stands.

Eddie came clean earlier, told Steve he meant it the other night after they’d blown each other, when he told Steve that he loved him. It’s been building and building in him for months, since the moments of quiet while they waited for the world to end back in March. They’d talked about the perception of Steve’s straightness, how he’d always had really intense friendships with other boys and how in retrospect now he can see them for the crushes they were.

And then they’d gotten down to making out. And they’d undone one another’s flies and gotten their hands on each other, panting and moaning into their kisses over the gearshift. And the whole time, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid song, the baseball interlude part with the announcer declaring the characters safe at second base while they made out in the car.

And now, here’s Steve, climbing over the center console to the backseat and dragging Eddie with him. It’s a tight fit back here, the windows cracked and the engine off, keys still hanging from the ignition. It’s humid in the car, smells like sweat and Steve’s expensive shampoo, and Eddie’s tee shirt is a little damp when Steve peels it off of him.

Steve drags his own shirt over his head too, punching the roof of the car with a sharp curse as he does, and Eddie’s frantic with the way he shoves his jeans and boxers off of one leg. Steve elbows him hard in the hip while he’s pushing his own jeans down far enough for his cock to spring free, and then Eddie throws one leg over Steve’s lap to straddle him.

Just like the first time they made out. This time, with far less fabric between them.

“Ready to hit this home run, sweetheart?”

Steve reaches around his to dip his hand into the pocket on the back of the passenger seat and pulls back with an unopened bottle of lube. 

“Think we can make it a grand slam,” he says as he pops the seal on the bottle and pours it over his fingers.

It’s a tight squeeze, getting Steve’s hand between them to creep underneath, where he pets and prods behind Eddie’s balls in search of his hole. Eddie jumps a little when he finds it, one slick finger rubbing circles over the tight, hairy clench of muscle he finds there. Eddie’s gazing down at him, and Steve is gazing right back up at Eddie, and his pupils go wide as he sinks his finger inside of him. The sensation makes Eddie gasp, his jaw dropping in surprise at the size of just one of those fingers as it slides home.

“Okay?” Steve asks in a whisper. He’s inside Eddie to the last knuckle, not moving, and Eddie can feel the way his second finger is curled against the skin of his asscrack right beside the first.

Eddie can’t find his breath, nods encouragingly for Steve to keep going, to move his finger, and Steve does. It slides out, and back in, and back out and inside again, and Eddie can feel the way his body is relaxing around it, the lube easing the way. Steve takes his cock in his other hand and strokes Eddie to keep him hard, and he whispers something but Eddie’s ears are full of cotton. He nods anyway, like he actually fuckin’ heard him, and a moan punches out of him when that second finger presses in beside the first.

It’s a stretch and a burn and Eddie is holding onto Steve’s shoulders for dear life as sweat pools in his collar bones and on his upper lip. Eddie tilts his hips back a little, seeking friction, and Steve begins to move the way he was before when it was just one finger, but this time every time he pulls back he spreads his fingers to open Eddie’s hole up more. Eddie can feel the way his pulse quickens with each outward stroke of those clever fingers and before he knows it he’s moving, fucking himself on them, clutching Steve’s wrist to hold him where he wants him while he takes and takes and takes.

“More,” Eddie hears himself say, and it comes out whiny, almost demanding, but Steve’s mouth finds Eddie’s throat at the same moment he shoves a third finger into Eddie’s asshole. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, thrusting those fucking fingers in and out and in and out, spreading them and pressing deep and curling them in a way that makes Eddie breathless with need, desperate for even more of that stretch and burn.

His hips are urgent, pressing down onto Steve’s fingers and up into the circle of his fist around his cock. Peering down to Steve’s lap, Eddie’s only a little surprised to find Steve hard and leaking, the slit of his cock shiny and red and swollen with need. If he could focus on anything more than the feeling of being stuffed full of Steve’s fingers and fucking into his hand he’d touch him, spread the lube over Steve’s cock himself so he can finally fucking impale himself on it like he’s been dreaming of for the past - fuck - several months.

“Your cock, Stevie,” Eddie gasps, whining as Steve finds that place inside him again that makes Eddie’s head swim and his vision spark with stars. “Need it. Ready for you. Where’s the lube?”

Steve’s hand leaves his cock to fish for the bottle, discarded and leaking, still open on the seat beside them and he presses it into Eddie’s hand. Eddie dumps the stuff into his palm and takes Steve’s cock in his hand, giving him a good hard jerk as he spreads it over the hot flesh of him. It sounds so fucking wet, Eddie’s hand moving over Steve’s cock like this, and Steve’s hand has stilled where his fingers are inside him. He’s groaning, thrusting into Eddie’s hand and slowly pulling his fingers free of his body for Eddie to gape and flex around nothing.

“C’mon,” Steve whispers as he guides Eddie’s hips into position over his cock. “Get over here.”

“Ready for this, slugger?” Eddie breathes, capturing Steve’s mouth in a filthy open mouthed kiss.

He shifts, maneuvering Steve’s cock against his hole and he sits, slowly, so fucking slowly.

“Ah, fuck, ” he grits out when the head pops through, and he forces himself to breathe.

Steve is staring up at him, his mouth falling open and gaping, a sound trapped in his throat as his brow furrows at the sensation.

Carefully, Eddie lowers himself more, hissing at the stretch and the slide of Steve’s cock into his body. He doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated in Steve’s lap, where he finally pauses to just bask in it. Steve is inside him. Steve’s cock is completely and totally inside Eddie’s hole, filling him up and stretching him out, making a home for itself. Steve is clutching him, his fingernails digging into the skin of Eddie’s hip and thigh, and there’ll be finger shaped bruises there by morning and Eddie’ll get them fucking tattooed to keep this memory forever if he has to.

Eddie leans back, hooking an arm around each of the headrests on the front seats, watching Steve’s eyes roam over his body as he does.

“Fuck me,” Eddie hears himself say. “Please, Stevie. Please fuck me.”

Steve does. He takes Eddie’s hips in his hands and lifts him up before driving into him and it’s like something breaks between them then. Steve plants his feet, lifting his hips off the seat and he sets into a steady, punishing rhythm. He’s got his head thrown back, the long line of his body taut and muscled, abs flexing with every thrust, his chest hair damp and curly with sweat. There’s no way the car isn’t rocking with the force of this thing between them, Steve’s brutal thrusts into Eddie’s body, the roll of Eddie’s hips as he meets him every single time.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, Eds.” Steve says it like it’s all one word, the way you’d say amen at the end of a prayer. “Gonna live with my dick in your ass forever, fuck. ”

Eddie never thought sex would be like this. The sweat, the heat of it - that he expected. The hands on his skin, though, the reverence in Steve’s gaze as he looks at him, the little sounds they’re both making, the chants of “I love you I love you I love you” - this , he never anticipated.

“C’mere,” Steve whispers, reaching for Eddie, and Eddie goes to him. He takes his arms from where they’re hooked around the headrests and he pitches forward until his hands find Steve’s hair, until Steve’s mouth finds his own, until they’re kissing. It’s slower like this, pressed together, Eddie��s hips still rocking in time with Steve’s thrusts. The smell of Steve surrounds him like this. It’s all expensive shampoo and sweat and sex, and if Eddie could bottle it to keep he would.

Steve’s hand finds the small of Eddie’s back and presses, guiding him forward to rock down onto him and take him even deeper. Eddie’s cock drags along the planes of Steve’s abs and makes him dizzy. He’s amazed he’s lasted this long and certain he’s coming up on his release quick. Steve’s whispering into his mouth, moaning his name, calling him beautiful, calling him a good boy and Eddie’s got no idea why that’s doing it for him but it drags a whimper from somewhere deep in his soul. Eddie gasps when Steve finds that place within him again, and Steve sucks Eddie’s lip into his mouth.

“I love you,” Steve says again, and Eddie’s too breathless, too consumed with Steve to say it back so he kisses the words into him instead, licking into Steve’s mouth as he quickens the pace of his hips to chase his release. It’s there, it’s building, it’s within sight now and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop it when he gets there.

Steve’s hand comes between them to touch Eddie, wrap around him and move against him.

“Ready to come for me?” he whispers against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie is. He is very, very much ready to come for Steve, ready to bust all over his hand, in his chest hair, ready to lick him clean afterwards.

“Come inside me,” Eddie says, and Steve groans. 

Briefly, Steve’s rhythm falters a little. His thrusts get jerky, twitchy, and then he presses deep with a cry, spilling deep into Eddie’s body. There’s a flood of warmth, slick and perfect, and Steve’s hips don’t stop, his hand flying over Eddie’s cock to bring him off and there, right on the precipice of release Eddie cries out. He lets it wash over him, barrel through him, and he makes a mess of Steve’s skin with every splash of cum against his chest.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes when it’s over. “Holy fuck, Stevie, shit. Is sex always like that?”

“Sex has never been like that,” Steve laughs. “Jesus Christ, Eds. Jesus fucking Christ. You’re it for me, I think.”

“Well, shit, after that I’d fuckin’ hope so.”

“Maybe a bed next time, huh?”

Carefully, Eddie lifts himself up off of Steve’s lap, Steve’s cock falling free from his hole and -

“Oh, Jesus, it’s leaking out of me, what the fuck? ”

Steve laughs again, drawing Eddie back down into his lap so he can kiss him some more. He threads their fingers together and holds him there, his other hand coming up to push Eddie’s hair out of his face. They’re tacky with sweat and cum but it’s perfect, and distantly, Eddie hears Steve begin to hum a little tune. Eddie thinks he recognizes it, but his brain hasn’t come back from wherever he threw it earlier and he can’t seem to…

“Take me out to the ball game,” Steve sings under his breath, and Eddie snorts. 

Yeah. That was it. Fuckin’ jocks.

tag list <33 @patchworkgargoyle @thefreakandthehair @sidekick-hero @stobinesque @starryeyedjanai

[gerrystamour]

suspended in the ether, till i felt you in my chest [chapter one]

Written for: Lex's Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge Prompt: "Can I braid your hair?"

Explicit | Steddie | In Progress

So, Eddie would say yes as blandly as possible and Steve would get a little smirk on his lips and do whatever it was that he asked to do, and then Eddie would feel flustered, off-kilter and set adrift. It always felt like a test or a challenge and Eddie had no idea if he passed. Knowing his track record with tests, Eddie was pretty sure he didn’t. And now Eddie was sweating his entire dick off and struggling to keep the sweaty, frizzy mop that was his hair off of his neck, and Steve was asking to play with it. Well, not play with it, but braid it. That was an important distinction to make, because playing with Eddie’s hair would imply some level of intimacy that was decidedly not platonic, right? This is my first fill for @thefreakandthehair Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge! I hope you all enjoy!

[ READ ON AO3 ]

chapter one: we are broken bodies bound for each other

“Can I braid your hair?”

Eddie blinked over at Steve, eyebrows high on his sweaty forehead while he held his hair up off the back of his neck. He could swear he felt heat pouring out of his head. Steve was strarfishing in the center of Eddie’s bed in just his boxers and a t-shirt while Eddie perched on top of the desk under his window, having a smoke and pretending he could feel a breeze coming in.

Summer had descended on Hawkins with a vengeance, as if in retaliation for the brief handful of weeks in the Spring when the portals to a frigid hell dimension opened up and attempted to take over their world. Granted, summers in Hawkins tended to be hotter than Satan’s taint, especially around the Fourth of July, but Eddie figured he was allowed to be noisy and bitchy about it if he wanted.

He'd almost died—first at the hands of a town full of angry, scared hicks, then by a swarm of demobats—and this was his first summer officially free of Hawkins High, the other frigid hell dimension in that shitty town. If Eddie had to spend the summer in the sweaty armpit of America because of dumb bullshit like “recovery” and “physical therapy” and “being under observation,” he was going to bitch and moan and throw all the tantrums he wanted.

It helped that all the stupid bullshit (like recovery, and physical therapy, and being under observation) meant that Eddie got to spend a lot of time with Steve outside of the apocalypse. They were both lucky enough to be Under Observation together, courtesy of both of them being the favoured chew toys for the demobats. From there, Steve just started staying close to Eddie, taking him to and from physical therapy, helping him with his exercises at home, coming over when Eddie was in too much pain to get up to use the bathroom, let alone get up and locate painkillers and take them.

It had been a while since Steve had to help him on a particularly bad pain day, at least one that extreme, but Steve still came over almost daily. Usually, they would just hang out and eat junk food, smoke a bit of pot sometimes; watch whatever movie Steve brought over from work. Sometimes, Steve would suggest they go for a drive and they would do just that, make like they would leave completely.

“We could get out of here, never look back.” Worded like a comment, spoken like an oath.

“You wanna run away with me, Stevie?” Tone teasing but lined with a hollow desperation.

The air in the Beemer would change as the question sat heavily in the space between them and Eddie was held in suspense, waiting for Steve to say or do anything. Most of the time, he wouldn’t hear an answer from Steve over the sound of the wind through the open windows and, like the coward he was, Eddie was too afraid to look at him after asking.

Sometimes, though, he would hear, “Of course I do, Eds.” Soft, teasing, possibly even sweet. Eddie’s delusional ass always liked to imagine it sounded as lovestruck as he felt.

Regardless of whether Steve answered or not, they would just drive, next stop anywhere big enough to disappear into with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever cash they had on them. Sometimes, they would be talking, usually about stupid shit that turned into rowdy, playful arguments, but most of the time they were quiet. Just letting the music play while they played at running away from Hawkins, a tension building between them that Eddie could almost feel, like the lowest tone on a bass guitar.

The furthest they’d ever gotten outside of Hawkins before one of them chickened out was two hours. Well, the furthest they’d ever gotten before Eddie chickened out.

Eddie hated to admit that he was always the first one to back down, thinking about Wayne back at home wondering and worrying about Eddie again. He would think about how Wayne would take Eddie just skipping town, not even saying goodbye or giving him any warning, after everything they had gone through. 

And really, what would they even do if they left suddenly and unceremoniously like that? Especially the two of them?

Sure, they were friends now, Eddie felt secure enough in what they had going on to say that much was true, but that was tentative at best. He was still Eddie “The Freak” Munson, and Steve was still Steve. It was only a matter of time before he found out just how much of a freak Eddie was and ended everything. Eddie was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t hurt him, but still…

They couldn’t run away with each other because then Eddie would have nothing to fall back on once Steve found out. Not just about what team Eddie was batting for or whatever the stupid sports metaphor was, but the specific person he was stuck on. Even if Steve was okay with him being gay… the whole reason Eddie even had to move to Hawkins just before he turned thirteen was because he was an idiot and told a friend about his crush on him. Of course, his dad found out after the boy and their other friends beat Eddie up, and that obviously ended with him being shipped to Indiana to live with his uncle. But the key detail was that the kid knew Eddie was gay and told him it was okay, that he was fine with that. Eddie never wanted to take that chance again.

They had just returned to his trailer from yet another game of Escape Chicken. It had taken a bit longer than usual for Steve to respond when Eddie had suggested turning around this time, long enough for Eddie to turn and look at him. There was something intense in Steve’s expression, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his eyes traced the flex of Steve’s arms as he wrung the steering wheel briefly. For an exhilarating moment, Eddie had thought Steve would ignore him and keep going.

Then Steve looked over at Eddie with his brightest, stupidest, goofiest grin that never failed to make Eddie’s stomach do somersaults, and then turned the car around. The drive back to Hawkins was always light, with Steve turning up his shitty music and singing along to the dumb love songs, batting his long, pretty eyelashes at him whenever Steve caught him watching.

But this time Eddie was having a hard time shaking off that moment just before Steve turned around. That moment where it really felt like Steve wasn’t going to stop, and if it hadn’t been for Eddie sitting there asking to go back home, Steve probably wouldn’t have. How long did Eddie have before Steve disappeared, with or without him?

“Eds?”

Steve’s voice brought Eddie out of his spinning thoughts and back to the matter at hand, which honestly wasn’t much better for Eddie’s constitution.

Because the matter at hand was Steve starting their other game of chicken, the one that Eddie wasn’t sure who was winning or losing , if either of them even were because maybe it wasn’t even a game like the one in the car.

It still kind of felt like Eddie was the first one to flinch every time, though.

This round was always started by Steve, with him offering some sort of physical attention, and Eddie wanted to say no— knew that he should say no— but he was always, always too weak.

How could he be expected to turn down the opportunity to have his fucking crush touch him, no matter how chaste? Sure, he felt like a fucking creep saying something innocent and nonchalant— “Sure, man. Knock yourself out.”— while knowing that his thoughts were anything but. Sure, it felt like taking advantage when Steve would get close enough that Eddie could smell what remained of his cologne through the musk of his sweat. But there was really only so much Eddie could withstand; he already turned down running away into the sunset with Steve, the least he could allow himself was whatever platonic scraps of physical affection the man would offer him.

Obviously, Eddie never initiated this little game, even before he realized how he felt about Steve. Being a queer alone made Eddie’s acceptance of Steve’s touches risky enough, and once he figured out how he felt about him? It was stupid that he kept letting it happen, but at least he never started it. Plausible deniability and all that.

Stupid and pathetic as it was, he would take what he could get for as long as possible.

So, Eddie would say yes as blandly as possible and Steve would get a little smirk on his lips and do whatever it was that he asked to do, and then Eddie would feel flustered, off-kilter and set adrift. It always felt like a test or a challenge and Eddie had no idea if he passed.

Knowing his track record with tests, Eddie was pretty sure he didn’t.

And now Eddie was sweating his entire dick off and struggling to keep the sweaty, frizzy mop that was his hair off of his neck, and Steve was asking to play with it. Well, not play with it, but braid it. That was an important distinction to make, because playing with Eddie’s hair would imply some level of intimacy that was decidedly not platonic, right?

The real issue was that he just needed to tie his hair up, but Eddie couldn’t find any of the silk ties that Jeff’s mom had given him after helping him cut an elastic band out of his hair during his second senior year. His hair was even curlier with the sweat and humidity, which made it way too unruly to risk a ponytail or bun with a normal tie. Of course, braiding it solved all of that, didn’t it?

“Dude, what?” Eddie asked dumbly as he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray by his knee, trying to stall a bit before he gave his inevitable consent to have Steve’s hands on him in a strictly platonic manner.

“Your hair— do you want help with it? I can braid it for you, get it off your neck,” Steve offered again, sitting up on Eddie’s bed and gesturing at him. He was sweaty too, his shirt soaked through and his face red from the heat. Somehow, Steve’s hair was still gorgeous, in spite of the sweat dripping from his hairline and the muggy, oppressive air around them.

“You know how to braid hair?” Eddie asked rather than give Steve a response to his offer, raising an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t like Eddie actually doubted Steve’s abilities; he hadn’t doubted Steve since he jumped into a haunted fucking lake without hesitation.

Steve rolled his eyes with a put-upon sigh. “I used to braid Carol’s hair all the time,” he answered, and that piqued some of Eddie’s interest since Steve didn’t mention his friendship with Carol or Tommy H very often these days. “I stayed in practice helping Max when she’d let me before everything. C’mon, you’ve been bitching and moaning since we got back, and it stopped being cute, like, an hour ago.”

“Aw, Stevie, you think I’m cute?” Eddie teased with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes, managing to keep from grimacing outwardly as his mouth got away from him.

Something passed over Steve’s face and Eddie couldn’t place the expression, and it didn’t help that it was gone as quickly as it appeared. If he had to name the look, Eddie would have called it sad, but that didn’t make sense. Eddie didn’t say anything that could have hurt Steve’s feelings, so he couldn’t be sad. But what else could that expression have been?

“Last time I’m offering, Eds. Do you want help or not?” Steve asked with another bitchy eye-roll that Eddie couldn’t help but snort at.

“Alright, Stevie, have at’er,” Eddie said as nonchalantly as possible, gesturing grandly at his frizzy mane. “I mean, good luck, I guess.”

“It’ll be easier if your hair’s wet,” Steve said simply, getting up off the bed and stretching with a groan.

His t-shirt, soaked with sweat and sticking to Steve’s skin, rode up with the motion and showed off a freckled and scarred strip of Steve’s midriff. Eddie wanted to lick the skin that was revealed, taste the salt of Steve’s sweat, make his own marks and leave it shiny with his spit. When Steve lowered his arms, the shirt stayed lifted where it was stuck to his skin.

Eddie quickly diverted his gaze as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course. Should I get like a bowl? Or we might have a spray bottle kicking around,” Eddie said thoughtfully, rubbing the back of his neck. He jumped when Steve let out a loud bark of laughter.

“Or, I was thinking you could just hop into your shower real quick?” Steve suggested, crowding his space just enough that Eddie could practically taste the salt of his sweat. It was unreal just how much Eddie was obsessed with Steve’s fucking scent, just the smell of clean skin, sweat, and cologne. It never failed to fill Eddie’s head with thoughts of how he’d smell during other activities.

That thought alone had Eddie jolting back with a nervous laugh that came out too loud to pass off as casual. Oh well, he’d just roll with it. “Right! Of course, shower. You’re right,” Eddie said with another loud laugh, giving himself a self-deprecating eye-roll.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest with a little smirk. “Make sure you use that new shampoo I got you, and the conditioner—”

“Yep, got it, Stevie,” Eddie interrupted quickly, his heart skipping a beat at remembering the gifted haircare products that Steve had seemed almost nervous about giving to him. It had been a lot, and Eddie knew it had cost a lot, but Steve insisted he have all of it.

“I mean that leave-in stuff, the mask—” Steve started again, following him out of the room, and Eddie paused in the hallway to raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wanna join me? Just to make sure I wash my hair properly?” Eddie asked blandly, and he was legitimately impressed that he was able to deliver that line so smoothly. The thought of Steve joining him in an enclosed space while naked was something Eddie usually only indulged in when he was alone and in his bed.

The comment had Steve stopping in his tracks, his mouth clicking shut as he glanced away from Eddie. It was… not unexpected, necessarily, but it also wasn’t the scoff and eye-roll Eddie’s smartass comments usually garnered. Fear gripped Eddie as he realized he might have fucked up, that he said too much and all the rumors from high school clicked into place.

“Welp! I’ll be right back,” Eddie said, too quick and too loud, before spinning on a heel and disappearing into the small bathroom of the trailer. Hopefully, he could figure out a good excuse for inviting his friend into the shower with him with minimal freaking out.

Steve wasn’t sure just how long he stood outside the bathroom door just listening to the water running while his brain came back online after Eddie’s comment.

The thought of joining Eddie in the tiny stall had Steve’s head full of heat and static, and a very large part of himself was tempted to say, “screw it” and do just that. It was easy to imagine it, crowding Eddie against the wall and slotting their hips together, getting each other off in a frantic, hungry frenzy. Without really meaning to, Steve’s thoughts wandered further, his daydream shifting to imagine Eddie on his knees, his smart mouth occupied while Steve buried his hands in those curls he was obsessed with. Then his mind supplied him a very vivid fantasy of his cock sinking into a different tight heat—

Sucking in a sharp inhale, Steve shook his head and quickly went back to Eddie’s room. He couldn’t just stand there in the middle of the Munson trailer getting a hard-on while listening to Eddie shower. There had to be something to do with manners or whatever. And as much as he wanted to go into that bathroom—he was invited, right?—he wouldn’t because he was working really hard on giving Eddie the space he needed, waiting for Eddie to finally act on what they both felt.

Because they both felt it, right? Steve definitely thought so most of the time, with all of Eddie’s shy smiles and delighted giggles whenever Steve made a joke, or the way he would lean into Steve’s hands when he’d accept a massage, or the way those big brown eyes would watch Steve’s mouth sometimes rather than meet his gaze while he talked. But then, when Eddie would deliver his flirtatious little lines, they would come out flat, sarcastic almost. Some sort of tone that was so deliberately uncaring, it threw Steve off completely.

What did it mean when someone so animated and vibrant turned so flat? Was that just how Eddie flirted? Part of him was convinced that was the case, and Steve just had to get used to Eddie’s style, because he knew how Eddie felt, had known at least somewhat for months now.

Steve found out back when Eddie had just barely woken up from his coma and was so high on pain medications, it was doubtful he really registered that he had company, let alone what he was saying to them. It made for some really funny moments that had Steve wishing he had some way to record them.

Then one day, Steve had been helping Wayne while he practiced redressing Eddie’s healing injuries. Mostly, Steve’s job was to keep Eddie sitting up and make sure his hands stayed put and didn’t get in his uncle’s way. When the bandages were pulled away from the stitched-together skin of his midriff, Eddie looked down with an exaggerated grimace.

“What the fuck, I lost three tattoos and a nipple?” Eddie whined, like he always did when the bandages came off. Steve usually just snorted and listened to his complaints, but there was something extra to Eddie’s tone that he didn’t like.

“I mean, yeah, but you’re gonna have sick scars, dude,” Steve said with a winning smile when Eddie lifted his pout to look at him. Winking, Steve added, “Chicks dig scars, the whole bad boy look. Seriously, trust me.”

“If you say so,” Eddie sighed, still pouting dejectedly, and Steve frowned. Then Eddie said, “Don’t really care what girls like, though.”

At the time, Steve didn’t really register the way Wayne had fumbled the roll of medical tape, too caught up in getting Eddie to smile again. “Of course, you don’t,” Steve teased, winking at Eddie.

Eddie giggled. “Stop that, why are you winking? You look dumb,” he laughed, and Steve felt like he'd won something. Still smiling, his dimples out in full force, Eddie leaned closer to his face and asked, “What about dudes, though?”

The hospital room went very quiet as Wayne sucked in a sharp breath. Steve just blinked at Eddie, their eyes locked while he processed the question slowly. “What?” he asked dumbly after a few moments.

“I think that’s enough of this conversation—” Wayne started to say.

“I said!” Eddie interjected loudly, glaring almost childishly at his uncle before his attention returned to Steve. “What about dudes? Men? Boys? What do they think of scars?”

It was a bit embarrassing how long it still took for the dots to connect for Steve, but once they did, he blushed and glanced at Wayne nervously. The man was watching Steve with that hawkish stare of his and Steve had to look away. He could still feel Wayne’s stare burning holes into the side of his head and God he just hoped this wasn’t the first Wayne was hearing about this, too.

“Y-yeah, dudes dig scars, too,” he finally stammered out, meeting Eddie’s gaze once again. Eddie was squinting at him almost suspiciously, so Steve added a quiet, “A lot.”

Eddie’s expression split back into his goofy grin and Steve’s stomach did a little somersault. “What about you, big boy?” he pushed, his tone strange as if he had attempted to purr or something. If the moment wasn’t so whatever this was, Steve would’ve laughed.

“What about me?” Steve asked stupidly. He knew exactly what Eddie was asking.

With the biggest eye roll, Eddie asked, “Do you like scars, Stevie?”

That was the question of the century, at least it was for Steve, because the moment it left Eddie’s mouth, three things immediately clicked into place in Steve’s head.

The first being that yes, Steve was absolutely into scars. He didn’t have much experience really seeing scars on anyone else other than himself, but he still knew. The second was that he knew he was going to like Eddie’s scars, a part of him liking that some of their scars would match even. And third, there was a part of him that was hungry, possessive even, at the thought of Eddie with scars— especially Eddie with scars that matched his.

“Y-yeah, Eds, I like scars,” he managed to say, but he was nearly bowled over at the intensity of Eddie’s grin when it widened even further.

“Do you think they’re sexy?” Eddie asked, and Wayne sucked his teeth.

“Boys—”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve answered, taking a page from Eddie’s book and trying to ignore Wayne. It was a little hard to do when the man was packing up the gauze and medical tape quickly.

Eddie’s grin shifted into a smirk as he leaned so close to Steve’s face. “How sexy—?”

A surprisingly big and strong hand fell heavily on Steve’s shoulder, startling him.

“Alright, boys, that’s quite enough,” Wayne said sternly, and Eddie just laid back on the bed and giggled loudly up at the ceiling. Steve’s stomach had felt squeamish, especially when Wayne’s eyes met his with something fierce and angry in them. “Harrington, a word outside. Now.”

Steve did not waste time standing up and following Wayne out to the hall. The man kept walking, so Steve silently followed until Wayne led them to the stairs. Once the door behind them shut, Wayne spun and pinned Steve with a hard stare.

“Sir—”

“No, you’re going to listen to me, Harrington,” Wayne interrupted, and Steve’s mouth snapped shut with a loud click. Once he was satisfied that Steve would keep his mouth shut, Wayne nodded once and in a low, dangerous voice he said, “Now, you’re not going to repeat a damn word that you just heard in there. If I catch even a whisper of what he said—”

“I won’t,” Steve interjected, grimacing when Wayne’s expression darkened. “Please, just—he’s not the first friend I’ve had that’s—I would never do that, okay?”

Wayne’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “He’s too high for his own good right now, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying,” he said, his tone almost challenging and Steve glanced away. The thought of Eddie saying all of that, implying all that he had but not meaning any of it? It hurt a lot more than it probably should have, given that Steve only realized his feelings for Eddie specifically less than ten minutes ago.

When Steve managed to meet Wayne’s eyes again, his expression was far less suspicious, more thoughtful than anything. “Don’t bring any of this up unless Eddie does, got it?” he eventually said, and Steve began to protest.

Selfishly, he wanted to clear up whether Eddie meant it as soon as possible, to hear Eddie repeat all of it and fill in the gaps. He wanted to hear Eddie say he thought scars were hot too, that Steve’s scars were hot.

“Sir—”

“Listen, Steve, I know my boy and I know he doesn’t do well when he feels cornered. Even if you go in gentle, he’s gonna lash out and probably say something that cuts down to the quick,” Wayne pushed sternly, and Steve shut his mouth with a small nod. “You can take my advice or not, up to you, but I promise you it will not end well if you push.”

Steve was tempted to go against Wayne’s advice, to just clear everything up the moment Eddie was properly lucid again. But then he thought about possibly losing Eddie when he had a chance at something, that he could blow that chance because he was impatient and pushy. There was no way that Steve would take that risk, so he begrudgingly did as Wayne told him; he didn’t bring it back up, and he didn’t push Eddie to bring it up himself.

Still, Steve decided to show Eddie that his feelings were reciprocated; he flirted and teased, offered physical affection and helped him out as often as he could, cooked for him and Wayne and kept him company. He spent weeks just trying to show Eddie that he wanted him, too. That Eddie could finally close the distance between them, and he wouldn’t be turned away.

Then one day when Eddie and Steve had been grabbing something to eat after their monthly check-up with the government doctors, some hick had spat something vile and cruel as they passed their table. Eddie made a crude gesture back at them, looking all the world like he didn’t give a shit what they thought, but the moment the asshole was gone he deflated.

“I fucking hate it here. Can’t wait to get the fuck out,” Eddie grumbled, and Steve’s chest squeezed. He hadn’t considered that Eddie would want to leave, which he immediately realized was stupid. Eddie hadn’t been treated well by the town his whole life, and things had only gotten worse since spring break. Of course, Eddie wanted out.

“You’re leaving us, Munson?” Steve asked as he tossed a couple of fries into his mouth.

Eddie sighed, shrugged. “No plans yet. Probably wouldn’t anyway,” he said with a heavy, put-upon sigh.

“Why not? What could possibly be keeping you here?” Steve asked with a grand gesture at the diner around them, though he was obviously meaning the whole town.

Eddie glanced at him, cheeks turning pink, before he looked away and cleared his throat. “People,” he eventually said with another shrug, and Steve was positive he saw Eddie’s eyes glance over at him again as he said it.

“Oh,” Steve thought, his heart hurting at the thought of being part of the reason Eddie was staying in a town that despised him. At the same time, he felt like flying, the knowledge that he was enough of a good reason to stick around. Or, he was at least one of the good reasons.

“You shouldn’t make your decisions based on other people,” Steve said after a minute. “I’m sure they’d understand if you left.”

“They would. Definitely would,” Eddie agreed with a hollow little laugh. “I wouldn’t make it a day out there alone, though.”

Without even thinking about it, Steve asked, “Then why don’t you ask if they’d go with you?”

Eddie laughed out loud at that, but it was a hollow and almost bitter sound, his big brown eyes rolling. “Yeah, right. Believe me, Stevie,” he said in a low tone, meeting Steve’s eyes so pointedly, it felt like a challenge. “No one’s gonna wanna run away with me, not really.”

So, Steve started putting out hints that he wasn’t planning on staying in Hawkins forever, that he was looking for one good reason to leave, that he would run if Eddie just said so. He started mentioning trying to go to college again, looking at schools elsewhere, as far away from Hawkins, Indiana as possible while staying in the country; throwing in comments about getting an apartment big enough for himself and at least one roommate. Steve always talked about his plans to or around Eddie, and sometimes he would respond and play along before slipping into that deliberately deadpan flirtation.

It was confusing and felt like he was getting nowhere most of the time. Sometimes, though, Eddie would seem so close to taking down the walls around him, to bringing up his feelings, the conversation from the hospital, anything that would finally end Steve’s waiting. At the same time, Steve would wait forever if the alternative was potentially driving Eddie away.

Steve was happy enough with just Eddie’s friendship, even if that was the only type of relationship he would have.

“That’s a mighty serious face you’ve got on, Harrington.”

Jumping, Steve looked over at Eddie as he returned to the bedroom and immediately had to look away.

Eddie was wearing only a pair of boxers, squeezing his hair out with his towel as he wandered closer to where Steve was sitting on the bed. Glancing back at Eddie, Steve looked at the scars that covered his torso, how many of them matched his own, but then there were the scars over his chest and up the thick column of Eddie’s throat. There was nothing Steve wanted more in that moment than to put his mouth and tongue on every single twisted patch of skin.

As Eddie approached and tossed his towel onto the bed, Steve realized he had slipped the handle of a comb into the waistband of his boxers, the line of it following his happy trail. It captivated Steve’s attention for just a few moments too long because suddenly Eddie was standing directly in front of him and clearing his throat.

Looking up at Eddie’s face quickly, Steve smiled weakly at his raised eyebrow. His expression was strange, like he was unimpressed, but it was pinched, almost forced. Eddie’s eyes were wide and bright, and maybe it was just Steve’s own feelings, but there was an almost hopeful look behind them.

“You okay, Steve?” he asked, and Steve nodded quickly, grabbing the comb out of Eddie’s waistband. His fingertips brushed the smooth skin of Eddie’s lower abdomen and Steve was very interested in the way Eddie took a shuddering breath at the contact.

“Yeah, I’m perfect. Just admiring the view,” Steve said with a little smirk. Eddie’s blush was brilliant and the way the corner of his mouth twitched up had Steve’s heart soaring.

Then the hint of a smile turned… cold? It wasn’t mean, but it wasn’t the cute, bashful smile Steve had hoped he’d get.

“Of course, you are, big boy,” Eddie shot back flatly before rolling his eyes and crawling onto the bed, and something sour settled in Steve’s gut. “How do you want me for this, Steve?”

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Steve leaned back against the wall at the head of Eddie’s bed and patted the space between his legs. “Right here, I guess. Or if you want, you can sit on the floor, and I can braid your hair like that?”

At that, Eddie actually scoffed and threw him a raised eyebrow. “You want me on my knees with your hands in my hair, Harrington?” he asked coolly, his knowing smirk very close to something Steve recognized, but on someone else’s face. Then Eddie did that eyeroll of his and something clicked in Steve’s mind, and he barely registered when Eddie said, “I’ll sit in front of you like this.”

Steve just nodded and muttered quiet instructions for Eddie to move his head here and there as he braided Eddie’s hair—he was doing something Max called a Dutch braid because he thought it would be more Eddie’s style than a French braid—but his mind was stuck on the sarcasm, the eyeroll, the flat flirtation.

It reminded him of Carol but not quite. He could just remember all the times she would have some poor sap following her around, trying to get in her good graces, and the way she would flirt before rolling her eyes to Tommy and him. She would laugh at the boys as they walked away, and most of the time Steve could tell that they never realized she was making fun of them.

Once Steve made that association, it forcibly knocked everything that happened between him and Eddie into a new perspective. God, of course just because Eddie was into men didn’t mean he would be into Steve, and here he had been so fucking obvious and pushy with his crush. He was pushy, overbearing, and apparently couldn’t take the very obvious hints that Eddie had been throwing him all along.

And in hindsight, it was very obvious, Steve just never saw it because he thought Eddie wasn’t like that. Steve thought he actually found someone who wanted him as much as he wanted them, found someone who was direct and vocal about what they did and did not want. In the end, Steve never considered that Eddie might be just as petty as other people he knew, that he would be like everyone else who made fun of him for not keeping up. For having to be told everything out loud and in detail. For not taking hints, reading body language, and being too damn much.

Hurt settled deep in Steve’s core, but it was tangled up in an anger so fierce he had to work hard not to accidentally pull Eddie’s hair. The kids had a grace period for being shitty to him, but adults like Eddie? Absolutely not. He'd put up with too much for too long to take it without calling it out, especially if that’s what was happening.

Steve would rather admit his feelings and ruin their entire friendship forever rather than continue something where he was just the butt of another joke he wasn’t in on.

As he reached the end of the braid, Steve realized he didn’t actually have anything to tie it off, but he could see a hair tie on the bedside table. Leaning over, Steve accidentally yanked on Eddie’s braid, and he hissed.

“Damn, Steve, you haven’t even asked for my safeword yet,” Eddie flirted before chuckling as Steve tied off the braid, and something hot and angry flared in his gut and he opened his mouth to tell Eddie to fuck off.

“Are you making fun of me?” Steve asked instead, and he cringed at how embarrassingly small and sad his voice sounded.

The anger that was simmering in his gut was immediately doused by the hurt. It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped over Steve’s head and all he had left was the grasping, gnawing want for someone he apparently would never get to have. Suddenly he was standing in a bathroom at a loud Halloween party all over again while the person he loved called him bullshit and said they didn’t love him and never did, and he just wanted to scream about it. Part of Steve wanted to hit something, but he worked very hard to not be that person anymore, so he just balled his fists up in his lap.

“W-what?”

Steve didn’t even realize he was blinking up at the ceiling until he was returning his gaze to Eddie’s face, and the naked confusion Steve saw there was almost comforting.

“Are you making fun of me?” Steve repeated, this time a bit more firmly. “If you’re not—if you’re not interested in me, just say so.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Steve—what?” he asked haltingly, and Steve just ran his hands back through his hair.

“C’mon, Eds, I’m—fuck, Eddie, I’ve been trying so hard to follow Wayne’s advice and give you space, and do what I can to show you I’m—I want you so much and I thought you wanted me, too, but you’re just—” Steve stopped himself as his eyes stung with tears and he pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “If you aren’t actually interested like I thought, just tell me. I don’t think I can take you laughing at me behind my back, too.”

“Stevie—” Eddie started, but the nickname hit Steve deep and he let out a shaky sob.

“Shit,” he said, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, fighting back the tears. Steve didn’t want to cry at all, but especially not in front of Eddie while he wasn’t certain that he wasn’t being laughed at.

Cool hands were on Steve’s cheeks and a weight settled across his lap. “Stevie, please, can you look at me?” And of course, Steve couldn’t deny him anything, even now.

Dropping his hands and tipping his head back against the wall, Steve looked up at Eddie and willed his tears away. Eddie was a lot closer than Steve expected, even knowing the man was in his lap and holding his face gently.

“I think I’ve been missing something because I didn’t—shit, Stevie, I didn’t know,” Eddie insisted earnestly, his rich brown eyes huge as he searched Steve’s face. “I’ve been fucking… I don’t know, pining for you for months, Stevie. Maybe even years, I don’t know, just—”

“I know,” Steve said miserably, his confusion mingling with his hurt in a nauseating mixture in his stomach, turning his eyes skyward as a tear fell. Eddie immediately caught it with his thumb and wiped it away.

“You know?” Eddie asked, his voice tight and Steve nodded, pinching his nose a bit and sucking in a sharp breath.

“Y-yeah, in the hospital, we talked about scars being hot, and you asked me if I would think your scars are hot—Wayne stopped the conversation,” Steve explained around a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to scare you off, so I just—I was hoping you would see that I feel the same way and finally say something.”

“Steve, I’m so sorry, I don’t—I literally don’t remember a lot of the hospital,” Eddie admitted, and Steve laughed.

“Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out,” he said with a sigh, chewing on his lip as he returned his gaze to Eddie’s face. “If you feel the same, why’ve you been pushing me away?”

“Because I’m a coward, Steve. I was running away,” Eddie replied with an explosive sigh, stroking Steve’s cheeks with both thumbs.

“Don’t say you’re a coward, because you’re not,” Steve argued fiercely, hating the way Eddie talked about himself. His interjection just seemed to make Eddie sadder.

“Listen, Steve, I don’t know how much you’ve experienced as a dude into other dudes in a small town like this, but I just—I don’t act on vague gestures, Steve,” he said, and Steve frowned as confusion swirled. “I can’t act on that shit if I want to keep my head from being caved in by angry hicks, okay?”

And that… well, that stung, and Steve felt a moment of frustration at himself for feeling that way. It made sense that Eddie would be afraid; Steve knew exactly what sort of attitudes Eddie would be up against in a town like Hawkins if they knew, or what would happen if Eddie flirted with the wrong guy based on a misunderstanding. Steve got it.

But Steve wasn’t just some guy, he was Eddie’s friend. They almost died multiple times together, Steve helped nurse him back to health. He thought they were close, that Eddie knew he was at least safe to be himself around, even if he didn’t want to be with him.

“Steve?” Eddie pressed, sounding nervous.

Taking a deep breath, Steve nodded a bit. “Th-that makes sense,” he agreed after a few moments, giving a bit of a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just—I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he asked, his huge eyes wide as Steve met his gaze again.

“For whatever I did that made you feel like I would maybe hurt you,” Steve said with a one-shouldered shrug. “I know I was shitty about this in high school, but I thought I’d turned—”

“Steve, fuck, no! That’s not—shit, okay, start over,” Eddie groaned loudly, tipping his head back to whine a bit. “Jesus H Christ, I hate talking about my feelings. This is so fucking hard.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve teased with a chuckle.

“Can you actually close your eyes and not look at me for this, Stevie? I just—I need to say a bunch of shit and I don’t think I can do that with you looking at me,” he confessed after a few moments of silent thinking.

Without hesitation, Steve closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall. “Eyes are closed, not looking at you,” he said quietly and waited.

“I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t hurt me if you found out I was gay, Steve. But there’s—there would be no way to know for sure unless you found out and that not knowing was fucking terrifying,” Eddie said in a rush, and Steve could feel the way he began to shake. “And then there’s—there are guys who say they’re okay with it, but the moment they find out you have feelings for them that’s—the thought that you might be fine with me being gay, but not about my ridiculous crush… I couldn’t risk it.”

Steve could hear the heavy weight of history there, that Eddie wasn’t just talking about a hypothetical scenario he created in his head but a real memory, something formative and traumatic. His heart ached with how badly he wanted to soothe that pain so Eddie never felt like he couldn’t love someone loudly ever again. Of course, he wanted to ask about it, if only because he wanted to know everything about Eddie, and Steve could guess that he would tell him, regardless of how uncomfortable it would make him. That was also a conversation that could happen another time.

Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s hips, rubbing his thumbs up and down the spurs of his hips. A soft smile came over his face when Eddie jumped at his touch, and Steve sighed with relief when Eddie leaned into it.

“That makes a lot of sense actually,” Steve said, squeezing Eddie’s hips. Then, tentatively, he asked, “Can I hold you?”

Eddie let out a sound that was mostly a sob, but Steve could hear the word ‘yes’ tangled up in it so he quickly wrapped his arms around Eddie and held him tight against his chest. It was still oppressively hot, and they were both sweating, and honestly the way any bare skin that was showing stuck together was unpleasant, but that was alright. It was perfect, because Eddie was in his arms and Steve knew he returned his feelings.

“Can I ask you something, Steve?” Eddie asked as he rested their foreheads together.

“Go ahead,” Steve said instantly, his eyes still closed.

“Why did you think I was making fun of you?” Eddie asked nervously.

Grimacing, Steve shrugged. “I didn’t think you were until today, honestly. It was just—you started rolling your eyes today,” he responded, his mouth twisting. “It reminded me of something someone else would do when she was making fun of guys who had a crush on her.”

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie said softly and the hands still holding Steve’s cheeks didn’t let him shake his head. “No, don’t, it’s—shit, Steve, I should’ve just not flirted with you. Really tried to have my cake and eat it too with all that.”

Steve let out a bark of laughter, squeezing his arms around Eddie even tighter. Eddie practically melted against him, and Steve desperately wanted to look at him again.

“Eds, can I open my eyes now?” Steve asked and, at Eddie’s little nod, he blinked his eyes open. With Eddie’s forehead against his, their faces were way too close, and Steve felt himself go cross-eyed trying to meet Eddie’s gaze. Laughing, Eddie moved to pull back, but Steve lifted a hand to hold the back of his head, keeping him close as he glanced down at Eddie’s lips.

“Steve?” Eddie asked quietly, his voice soft and tentative, almost unsure.

Sighing, Steve leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s lips as he asked, “Can I kiss you, Eds?”

There was a moment where Eddie tensed, and Steve was getting ready to apologize when those perfect hands slid further back to tangle in his hair. “Want you to know I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he admitted quietly, and something warm and fond bubbled up in Steve’s chest. “Just because I might suck.”

Steve just smiled and shook his head. “You’ll be perfect, I know you will,” he hummed before guiding Eddie’s lips to his own.

[ TBC ]

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Taglist! @patchworkgargoyle @scarcrossdlvrs @steddieas-shegoes @steve-harringtits @mylilplanet @afewproblems @xenon-demon @steddie-there @inairbinad @matchingbatbites @starryeyedjanai @scoops-stevie @vecnuthy @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @rugbertgoeshome @estrellami-1 @spectrum-spectre @stobinesque @spicysix @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @sentient-trash @legitcookie @theheadlessphilosopher @corrodedbisexual

[sparkle-fiend]

Well… I completely missed the deadline for Lex’s summer event 😭

(even after switching prompts in order to do a simpler picture than the one I had originally planned 😭😭😭)

I have been a bit overwhelmed by work and family the past couple weeks, and most of my drawing time has been going to things for the big bang (sidenote- omg I will be so excited to share the stuff im doing for the bang!!!) But I’ve got a long weekend, and I’m hoping to buckle down and maybe finish this thing in the next couple days! 🤞

[rogueddie]

Platonic Stobin, 590 words, for @thefreakandthehair's Summer Spicy Six Challenge, with the prompt; "Do you trust me?"

Steve misses swimming. He misses the familiarity, the ease… something about the mindless laps is comforting. It made it easy to stop thinking, to stop worrying, just for a moment.

He can barely bring himself to look at his pool after Barb, nevermind get inside.

He originally started avoiding the public pool to avoid Hargrove, but after that summer and Max… he avoids the pool, avoids reminders, avoids the guilt that always follows the relief he feels when he remembers that he’s gone.

And, now, he can’t go to Lovers Lake.

Robin refuses to accept that.

“This is a bad idea,” Steve repeats.

She ignores him, hand tight on his wrist as she drags him through the trees.

When they reach the clearing, the edge of the lake, she lets go. She doesn’t drag him closer, continuing to walk the last steps by herself.

“It doesn’t look so scary in the daylight,” she observes.

Which is when Steve notices the tremble in her balled up fists. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought that the lake might be just as traumatizing for Robin- and he knows, from the times she’d drag him back to the remains of the mall, just how much exposure helps her.

He steps forward, stands beside her, taking her hand.

“It’s just a lake,” he says. Although, he’s not sure if he’s reminding himself or her. “The gate is closed. There’s no monsters. It’s just water.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, nodding. “Just water. It can’t hurt you.”

Oh, Steve thinks. Something in his chest breaks with the realization.

“Exactly,” Steve echoes.

Squaring his shoulder, he kicks off his shoes and tries to let go of her hand so he can strip down to his swim shorts.

Robin won’t let go, holding onto him tighter.

“Bobbie, you gotta let go,” he nudges her. “Right? We’re going swimming.”

“No, it- you were right, this is a bad idea, it’s-”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He squeezes her hand. Her eyes are a little wide when she turns to look at him. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Let go of my hand.”

It takes her a moment, but Steve is patient. He stays where he is for a second, making sure she’s still ok.

Then, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that it’s for Robin, it’s safe, it’s for her- he sprints into the lake, diving in headfirst once the water is deep enough.

He only plans to stay under long enough to look around, to see that it’s safe. But, almost as soon as he’s under, hands are grabbing at him and pulling him back to the surface.

“What the hell!” Robin yells.

She’s laughing though- a little hysterical, hands still gripping him bruisingly tight, but she’s laughing.

“What?” He yells back, splashing her. “It’s just water!”

“You’re an asshole!”

When he splashes her again, she grabs the top of his head and shoves him back under the water.

It’s hard to remember why he was so terrified to go into the lake when he’s playing with Robin, when they’re laughing so hard that they can’t stay in the water too long, when they’re so happy with aching sides and sore muscles.

They sit at the edge of the water, legs submerged, talking and gossiping for an hour.

The water is cool, comforting…

“Thanks,” he finally says, as they start heading back to his car. “And I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“You better be,” she teases, bumping her shoulder into his. She grabs his hand, squeezing tight.

[thefreakandthehair]

Hi friends! It's that time again! I'm so excited to host this Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge! The past couple seasonal challenges have been such a blast, and I can't wait to see what people come up with this time around!

Here are the rules: 

Must include at least one member of the Spicy Six. Don't feel pressured to include everyone, of course. You can focus on just Steddie, just Ronance, just Jargyle, really any combo OR no pairings at all. Chrissy is also included! (I know that makes seven– I just don't want to change the title, honestly.)

There are two links below, one for dialogue prompts and one for more general prompts. Please either DM me at thefreakandthehair or comment which prompt you’d like! 

More than one person can claim the same prompt if it’s for a different pairing/character/grouping or if it’s for a different medium (i.e.: a prompt can be claimed for a fic by one person, and the same prompt can be claimed for a fanart by someone else).

Claiming more than one prompt is allowed, so long as they are for different fics/artworks and you’re confident that you’ll finish more than one!

No word count minimum or maximum for fics. 

Posting will run throughout the entire month of August, so anytime between August 1, 2023 - August 31, 2023. Additional posting details here!

When you post, please use the tag LexsSummerFanworksChallenge and tag me so I can see and reblog it!

Please feel free to reblog to spread and signal boost.

Dialogue Prompts Here

Inspiration Prompts Here

tagging those who've been along for the ride before or who expressed interest/writing/art pals! @starrystevie @stargyles @hexiewrites @stevecarrington @stevethehairington @steveshairychest @withacapitalp @stevesbipanic @fruityfour @fruityfourgalore @sharpbutsoft @judasofsuburbia @sparklyslug @toburnup @strawberryspence @fragilecapric0rnn @sparkle-fiend @unclewaynemunson @undreaming-fanfiction @riality-check @legitcookie @sidekick-hero @cheatghost @kkpwnall @aidaronan @flowercrowngods @gothbat99 @pizzaqueen @hammity-hammer @bmodiwrites @patheticgirlsteve @misspanicdead @capriciouslyterminal @aringofsalt @barbienheimer @steddieasitgoes @horsegirleddiemunson @maxinemaxmayfield @daysarestranger @henderdads @eddieunbanished @nostalgicbones @delta-piscium @scoops-stevie @steves-strapcollection @scarcrossdlvrs @inairbinad @patchworkgargoyle @ahhrenata @dazedandinked

[inairbinad]

what doesn't kill me makes me want you more

Steddie | Explicit | 11k words | Read on AO3

Written for @thefreakandthehair's Summer Fanworks Challenge for the prompt: "That look in your eye terrifies me." Thanks so much for organizing this, Lex! It's been so fun!! 💜 tags/cw: fwb, jealousy, love confessions, consensual somno, deepthroating, semi-public sex, light d/s dynamics, cockwarming, good boy Eddie Munson, soft dom Steve Harrington, off-screen negotiated kink, meddling buckingham, one teensie reference to past stomarol, and more tags on ao3

Eddie is good for Steve, he thinks. Good in more than just the way he knows exactly how to turn Steve to putty in his hands, beyond how he can make Steve laugh, or make him feel safe, or even how he’s one of the best friends Steve’s ever had. Steve really has to start grappling with the fact that he’s in love with Eddie—the little detail might have the power to ruin them forever. Ruin Steve forever. Because he’s the one that went and fell in love when they were supposed to just be fooling around, friends with benefits or whatever the fuck Eddie had called it when they first started this When Steve’s being entirely honest with himself, he knows he was in love with Eddie long before their arrangement ever started, but he dove in head first anyway, desperate for an excuse to have Eddie in whatever way he could get him.

[read on ao3, or under the cut!]

Steve wakes up to Eddie’s mouth around his cock, and even though he’s barely conscious he’s already not sure how much more he can take.

Steve whines, a deep gravelly whimper that makes Eddie stop what he’s doing with a wet pop. The filthy sound of it, the way a trail of spit and precum dangles from Eddie’s lip as he smiles up at Steve, hair a wild mess and with nothing but hunger in his eyes—Steve has to bite down on his lip to keep from telling Eddie he loves him. If Eddie thinks he’s just stifling a moan, so be it.

“Mornin’ Stevie,” Eddie says, licks his lips and then slowly draws his tongue along the slit of Steve’s cock. Steve hisses at the sight as much as the sensation, so hard already he wonders how long it took for him to wake up.

“Morning,” Steve manages to say, brushing his fingertips across Eddie’s cheekbone and sending him a sloppy smile. “Started breakfast without me?”

“You just looked so fucking good, babe, I couldn’t wait.” Eddie lowers his mouth to lick Steve’s balls next, and it takes everything Steve has not to jerk his hips wildly in response. Eddie smiles like he can tell. “You can punish me if you want.”

And god, if Steve doesn’t love it when Eddie’s in a mood like this. He loved most of Eddie’s moods, actually. They were so in sync with their tastes, their desires, their kinks—maybe everything but their feelings for each other.

“Should I make you watch me jerk myself off?” Steve snakes his hand down his chest and grabs his own shaft with a squeeze that makes his breath catch. He watches Eddie’s eyes flare and doesn’t bother to hold back a shaky laugh. “Force you to keep that pretty mouth to yourself?”

As he watches Steve stroke his own cock—still soaked with Eddie’s spit—Eddie bites down on his lip so hard Steve wonders if he might break the skin. Steve uses his free hand to tug Eddie’s lip free, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to suck Steve’s thumb into his mouth instead. Steve can feel the way Eddie’s spit is thicker with his own precum when Eddie swirls his tongue, sucking Steve’s thumb deeper.

Steve pulls it back and pushes three fingers into Eddie’s mouth instead, reveling in the way Eddie moans and looks up at him like he’s grateful. Steve shoves his fingers in deeper, and Eddie sucks them down as Steve moves them in time with each stroke of his cock.

“Gonna let me fuck your throat?” Steve asks eventually. Eddie’s eyes are pleading as he keens around Steve’s fingers, making a gurgling sound as he nods ferociously. Steve palms the head of his cock before stroking down again, then presses the tip right up against Eddie’s chin. “Fuck, baby. Lemme see what that mouth can do.”

Eddie sucks the tip of Steve’s cock back into his mouth like he’s starved for it. Steve moves his hand to cup the back of Eddie’s head, guiding it as he lets Eddie bob up and down a few times before he starts thrusting up into it. But Eddie seems impatient, makes a needy sort of grumbling sound as he swallows Steve down as far as he can go. His nose presses into the thick nest of Steve’s hair and he looks up at Steve with pride as he sucks in a deep breath through his nose—a plea for more.

Steve’s happy to oblige. He pushes up until Eddie gags and pulls back with a wet, sloppy smile. He comes back for more almost instantly, and Steve trusts Eddie will tell him if it’s too much. He thrusts up again and Eddie moans around his cock, relaxing his throat just at the perfect moment for the vibrations to send frissons of heat straight from Steve’s tip and licking up his spine. He holds Eddie’s head in a firm grip and lets himself get lost in how good it feels, makes sure to tell Eddie just how much.

“God, you were meant to be a pretty mouth to fuck, weren’t you Eds? Like your throat was made for my cock,” Steve says, and Eddie’s eyes roll back as he hums again, sending another wave of electricity through Steve like a serpent eating its own tail of absolute divine pleasure between them. The wet heat of Eddie’s mouth is perfect, he knows just how to press his tongue against the underside of Steve’s cock to make him see stars.

Steve wonders how Eddie can be so good at making Steve come undone without loving him back.

The problem is as much as Steve loves fucking into Eddie’s mouth until he can feel the tip of his dick pressing against Eddie’s perfect, pliant throat, sometimes he thinks he’d like waking up to a deviant round of cuddles just as much.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn good for me,” Steve whines anyway, fisting Eddie’s hair into a tighter grip and thrusting up into his mouth again. Eddie looks up at Steve like he’s floating on the praise, tears now sparkling on his pretty lashes. The sight alone is nearly enough to make Steve fall apart.

Eddie is good for Steve, he thinks. Good in more than just the way he knows exactly how to turn Steve to putty in his hands, beyond how he can make Steve laugh, or make him feel safe, or even how he’s one of the best friends Steve’s ever had.

Steve really has to start grappling with the fact that he’s in love with Eddie—the little detail might have the power to ruin them forever. Ruin Steve forever. Because he’s the one that went and fell in love when they were supposed to just be fooling around, friends with benefits or whatever the fuck Eddie had called it when they first started this.

When Steve’s being entirely honest with himself, he knows he was in love with Eddie long before their arrangement ever started, but he dove in head first anyway, desperate for an excuse to have Eddie in whatever way he could get him.

It’s never in these moments that he regrets it, not when Eddie fits him so perfectly, knows just what Steve always needs and vice versa. They’ve negotiated every kink in the book, talked through what they like and don’t, fucked each other senseless so many times by now Steve wonders how he’s ever supposed to get hard for anyone else—or love anyone else.

But that part isn’t allowed. Those words are for thoughts only, allowed to stir a yearning ache that takes over Steve’s whole body in waves but never be released aloud into the space between them.

So Steve keeps letting his body say what his mouth can’t and fucks up into Eddie’s throat, desperately chasing a high he can never quite reach. Then Eddie flattens his tongue and relaxes his jaw just right, and Steve barely has time to register the way he feels that familiar tightening in his balls before he’s coming, babbling Eddie’s name like a prayer.

He paints Eddie’s throat in his cum, possessing him in the only way he knows how. Eddie swallows it all down hungrily, then takes the time to lick Steve clean until he’s on the verge of overstimulated and writhing.

“Eds,” Steve pants, using whatever weak grip he still has on Eddie’s hair to pull him away.

“Yeah, Stevie?” Eddie asks, all faux innocence, fluttering eyelashes, and swollen lips—like all he wants is to keep his mouth on Steve’s cock for the rest of their lives.

And there’s another one of those thoughts about forever that Steve has to shove away in earnest, bury deep in as many dirty thoughts as he can heap on top of it before he loses his senses.

He grins wickedly down at Eddie before pulling him the length of his body up for a filthy, salty kiss. Steve can taste himself on Eddie’s tongue, moans into it before hooking his leg over Eddie’s hip and flipping him onto his back. He pulls away slow, sucking Eddie’s bottom lip as he goes, not releasing it until he gives it a little nip.

He sees what’s left of the tear tracks staining Eddie’s cheeks and kisses them away—more salt on his tongue to temper the sweetness that is Eddie.

“You were so perfect, always make me feel so good,” Steve tells him between kisses, inching further down Eddie’s jaw, his neck, his chest as he goes.

“Can’t help that you taste so good, sweetheart,” Eddie purrs, arches his back as Steve starts to twist his nipple piercing between his fingers, before sucking it into his mouth. Steve feels Eddie’s dick twitch against his hip as he laps at his nipple—all cold metal and taut, pebbled skin beneath his hot tongue. He pulls away and looks up at Eddie, who’s watching every move Steve makes with rapt attention.

“My turn,” Steve promises, then sinks down for some breakfast of his own.

Steve almost regrets having to brush his teeth. He feels dirty to think it, shameful even, but he wishes he could keep the taste of Eddie and himself blended together with him all day, the mixture of their cum and spit that coats his mouth and reminds him of exactly how good things with Eddie can be.

“Can anyone make you come like I do, sweetheart?” Eddie had asked after they were both sated and finished, knowing full well what the answer was, is, has always been. Steve just smiled and stretched and avoided the question, but now that he’d retreated to the bathroom to get ready to leave, he can’t think about anything else.

Because he’s afraid it will always be Eddie for him. Not just because the sex is good—it’s phenomenal, but he loved Eddie well before he ever knew how well they could meld together in bed—but because Steve’s heart is so tied to Eddie he’s not sure how he’ll ever untangle those feelings without catastrophic damage.

It’s always this part of their time together that Steve dreads the most, where he inevitably starts to contemplate leaving Eddie behind and never coming back. Just Eddie’s fingers on his skin can make Steve feel more alive than he has in years, yet somehow it makes him feel so empty by the time he cleans up and leaves, that Steve’s not sure how much longer he can do this.

He’s not sure what stupid impulse ever made him think he was cut out for a no-strings-attached situation, but he curses it every time he feels like this.

Steve thinks it’s almost worse that Eddie’s never an asshole about it. He’s always more than happy for Steve to spend the night, to lay cuddled together in a tangled mess of limbs, talking and joking all night long—or at least until they’re ready to go again. Eddie’s always willing to let Steve make him breakfast the next morning, or to make Steve’s coffee perfectly and do the whole domestic thing that drives Steve even more wild than the orgasms do.

Steve never feels like Eddie’s just using him for sex and somehow, beyond all of Steve’s deductive reasoning abilities, that’s become a huge problem. Steve loves every minute of it, every ounce of affection Eddie showers him with, but once he’s left to sneak back into his own house (or Eddie’s off to do the same), reality sinks in that Steve might have Eddie, but he doesn’t really have him in the way he wants to. Needs to.

He and Eddie were clear when they started this. Friends with benefits. Nothing more, nothing less. They would be each other’s ports in a storm against the lashing tides of loneliness. Because they liked each other, trusted each other, and it seems so silly to let all that attraction, all that sexual compatibility, go to waste.

Steve caught feelings anyway.

Well, if Steve was being honest like Robin wanted him to be, he’d caught feelings before he ever even agreed to the whole arrangement. That’s why Robin was so adamantly against it. Not because she didn’t like Eddie—he was her girlfriend’s best friend. In the same way Chrissy loved Steve, Robin loved Eddie.

Both of them seemed to hate the idea of Steve and Eddie, though.

So mostly they snuck around. It wasn’t terribly difficult, even though Steve lived with Robin and Eddie lived with Chrissy, considering Robin and Chrissy stayed together most nights. All Steve and Eddie had to do was suss out whose place would be empty most of the time, and then manage to sneak back home before either one of their friends noticed they’d been gone.

Steve had memorized the exact way to flip open the mechanism on his and Robin’s garden gate without making it creak in the night, just below Robin’s bedroom window, as he came home from what was starting to feel like a clandestine affair.

Eddie, for his part, had every stair that creaked on the way up to his bedroom in his and Chrissy’s place memorized, so as not to alert her when he was coming home at all hours of the night.

It’s working out fine, except for that empty feeling that’s a growing cavern in Steve’s chest. And it’s getting harder and harder for him to ignore.

Steve knows he has to find a way to extricate himself from this mess he’s made, to somehow clean up his own sloppy feelings and shove them back inside a lock box in his chest without letting Eddie know anything is actually wrong, without insulting him and damaging their friendship in the process.

Because even if Steve knows he has to stop sleeping with Eddie, he can’t fathom the idea of losing him altogether.

The first step is probably getting the hell out of Eddie’s apartment, however.

Steve finally spits his toothpaste into the sink, watching all remnants of the morning washing down the drain with an ache in his ribcage.

Like clockwork, Eddie slips into the bathroom behind him and wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. He hums into the crook of Steve’s neck and says, “Coffee’s ready, sweetheart.”

And just like that Steve’s staying for coffee, too.

There’s absolutely no way that Steve’s gonna make it home before Robin gets up now. He knows he’s in for it, that he’ll have to make up an excuse about some one-night stand he somehow managed to pick up after he’d left Eddie’s the night before.

The entire walk home, he curses himself for admitting to Robin that he was planning on seeing Eddie at all.

Robin’s sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him when he gets home. Steve takes a quick look around, finds no extra shoes by the door, no spare jacket still hanging on the hook. So Chrissy isn’t still here to also witness his lovestruck humiliation, or however Robin’s planning to dress him down over it, at least.

Steve doesn’t bother trying to dodge his fate when he takes in Robin’s face. She looks stern, sure, but also sad in a way that Steve can’t possibly ignore. He goes to sit beside her, probably looking like the picture of guilt the whole way.

“Where’ve you been?” she asks by way of greeting. Steve bites his lip, but Robin stops even the semblance of a lie from percolating on the tip of his tongue with a tired sigh. “Just tell me.”

“Eddie’s,” Steve mumbles, then pillows his head in his folded arms across the tabletop. “Go ahead and yell.”

“I’m not gonna yell, Steve,” Robin says softly, and that only makes him feel worse.

“No, I think I really need it,” he says, looking up at her again without lifting his head.

“And that’s how I know you don’t,” Robin counters, patting the top of his head sympathetically. “Three times a week for four months seems to have finally knocked some sense into you.”

Steve can’t help it, he feels himself gawking at her. “How did you…?”

“Chrissy and I aren’t idiots, Steve,” Robin rolls her eyes at him with more affection than he feels like he deserves. “Just because you figured out how not to make the gate creak doesn’t mean you don’t come home smelling like him. Like right now.”

Steve actually thought he did a pretty good job at covering up Eddie’s scent, but he always hates doing it. Maybe he’d been subconsciously sabotaging his own efforts.

“Plus, Chrissy and I went back to hers one night and totally heard you two going at it,” Robin adds with a shrug. “Apparently you were so loud you didn’t notice us stumbling-drunk into the apartment and crashing for the night.”

“When was this?” Steve asks.

“I think the same week you swore to us both that you weren’t going to mess around anymore, that you were ‘just friends and that was it. Pinkie swear.’” Robin gives him a skeptical look, like she thought maybe he was cursed just for breaking the sanctity of a pinkie swear to his best friend.

She was probably right.

Steve tries to think back to that week, that day even, when he and Eddie decided they’d had enough of Chrissy and Robin’s judgmental looks over their relationship, if you could even call it that. Steve was pretty sure that was the same night Eddie had surprised him with a cock ring. So yeah, that might’ve distracted him even from armageddon commencing, let alone the fact that there were people in the next room.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters. He genuinely is if Robin and Chrissy had to listen to that night.

“Remember how you caught us in the kitchen a week later?” Robin asks, and Steve does. A little too vividly for his taste, actually.

“Payback?” Steve guesses, and Robin just grins. “I guess I deserved that. What about Eddie, though? Did he get payback too?”

“Oh, we did the same to him,” Robin assures him.

“Thorough.”

“We really are,” Robin waggles her eyebrows at him before turning back to the topic at hand. “Seriously though. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Steve feels his shoulders deflate with a sigh. “It was the same as it always is—fucking amazing. And it’s not just the sex, Rob. He’s amazing. He makes me laugh and he’s so goddamn cute and I don’t even know why because he’s a dork but…”

“You love him,” Robin fills in, and Steve feels like he might cry if he admits it out loud. So instead he just nods once, stiffly, then swallows thick so he can try and move the conversation along.

“I can’t keep leaving there pretending I don’t want him for real, you know?” Steve asks, and Robin hums along like she does. Of course she does, because she seems to know everything that goes on in Steve’s head. “It’s eating me up inside. So I’m going to end it. I have to end it. Can you…fuck. Can you help me, Robbie?”

Robin takes his hand and clasps it between her own so quickly, it feels like she’s shoved a giant weight off Steve’s chest. “Of course I will, dingus.”

“Okay,” Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding onto. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Robin says matter of factly.

Like clockwork, Steve’s phone dings.

Eddie: holy shit, Stevie!!!!! Jeff says Ghost is coming here in sept!!!! we HAVE to go, please say we’re gonna go 🥺🥺🥺👻👻👻🥺🥺🥺

Steve knows he’s grinning like a fool at his phone, despite the distinctly depressing conversation he’s in the middle of with Robin. He feels her eyes on him as he types out a response. If he’s teasing Eddie on purpose, Robin doesn’t need to know that. Plus, it’s not like he said he’d stop being friends with Eddie. Just that he’d stop fucking him. They could surely go to a concert together without fucking. Right?

Steve: I don’t even like Ghost

Three little dots pop up faster than Steve can blink. He prepares himself for a lot of punctuation.

Eddie: what!!!!!!!!!

Eddie: sacrilege!!!

Eddie: how can you say such a thing?!?!?!

Eddie: okay you might be teasing me so….really??

Eddie: cause you like fuckin’ e v e r y t h i n g

Steve: That’s a mean way to call someone bisexual

“Ahem,” Robin clears her throat, making Steve jerk his head back up to look at her. “What’s so funny in your phone?”

“Just a meme Dustin sent me,” Steve lies. He’ll find a random meme if he has to, but he doesn’t think it will matter either way based on the way Robin is narrowing her eyes at him. He’s saved by another ding.

Eddie: i just snorted coffee through my nose and everyone at work is staring

Steve: 😈

Steve laughs out loud as he types his reply, hits send just a millisecond before Robin snatches his phone from his hands. She gives him a disappointed look before she reads the conversation aloud just to rub Steve’s nose in it.

“Oh, apparently Gareth is reenacting the coffee snort, now,” Robin informs him as he makes a diving grab for his phone back. She dodges him easily, because apparently she’s got a measured athletic grace that kicks in when Steve needs her clumsiness the most. “He says you must all hate him.”

“Robin,” Steve grits through his teeth. “I’m sorry, okay? But he’ll know something’s up if I start ignoring him.”

“If you don’t at least avoid him for now you’re never gonna make it, Steve,” Robin says, matter of fact, and Steve knows she’s right. He doesn’t know how to maneuver this without ruining their friendship, too.

Sometimes he worries it’s already well beyond ruined, and he’s just in denial about it.

“So what do you suggest?” Steve asks, folding his arms across his chest. “I can’t…I can’t tell him the truth, Rob. He’ll be nice about it while he rejects me and it’ll kill me. And I can’t just ghost him.”

Steve winces at his lack of a better term.

“You won’t be,” Robin shrugs easily. “I’ll keep your phone for now. Pretend to be you and respond to him. You know. How friends do.”

“That was friendly!” Steve insists.

“That was flirting,” Robin counters.

“How am I supposed to get around without my phone!” Steve deflects.

“I’ll give you mine,” Robin says easily, almost like she thinks it’ll be fun. “We’ll be fine, we do it all the time by accident anyway.”

And, well, she’s not exactly wrong about that. They’re signed into all of each other’s social media and other accounts anyway, just by virtue of how they share phones like they do clothes. And thoughts.

“Fine. But don’t be mean to him,” Steve warns.

“I told you, Steve. Nothing but friendly,” Robin grins and types out a response to whatever Eddie’s saying now. Steve gets the feeling she won’t fill him in, and is proved right when she locks the phone and a wicked grin takes over her face.

Steve is a little scared of whatever plan she has cooking up.

“You know the best way to get over someone?” she asks.

“How…” Steve’s voice is so flat it can hardly be considered a question.

“Get under somebody else.”

“Rob,” Steve protests immediately. He can’t even think about someone else yet. Maybe ever.

“Come on, Nancy’s coming to town tomorrow, Chris and I were gonna take her out for a girls night. Nothing crazy. Just a bar or two. You should come with us. See if you can meet someone…distracting. And uncomplicated,” Robin puts her best pouty, puppy eyes on. The ones she knows Steve can never resist.

He already knows he’ll say yes, but he deflects anyway. “Your solution to me getting over Eddie is taking me out with Nancy?”

“I did not say you should sleep with Nancy, you creep,” Robin groans and flicks his forehead. “If anyone is taking Nance home at the end of the night, it’s me and Chrissy.”

Well that certainly achieved the distract-Steve-from-his-misery goal in a two seconds flat. He feels his eyebrows shoot up into his hair as he half-shouts, “And that’s not complicated?!”

Steve knew Robin probably wouldn’t want to hear it, but he was willing to draw on certain throupled experiences of his own with Tommy and Carol from their college days in warning of how that path was anything but simple. Robin seems to know that’s exactly what he’s thinking anyway, because she scrunches up her nose and barrels right past any opportunity for him to bring it up.

“Not with healthy communication about expectations, dingus,” she says simply.

“I thought I did that with Eddie,” Steve points out with a huff. “Look how that turned out.”

“Yeah, except you lied about how you really felt,” Robin says, voice dripping with exasperation.

“Oh. Right,” Steve mutters. She had a point. “Guess I’m coming to girl’s night, then.”

Somehow “Girl’s Night” turned into “Let’s Pick Out a Date for Steve Night” instead, and he’s already regretting agreeing to come. Robin and Nancy are really into it, scouring the bar for potential partners and rating them on a scale of one to ten based on what they think Steve will like.

It’s a little bit more illuminating about what they think of his taste than he’s willing to examine.

Chrissy at least seems to be taking pity on Steve, and is keeping up with him beer for beer as they watch a baseball game on the bar’s TV. Steve can still feel her concerned eyes on him every once in a while, though, like Robin’s told her exactly the state he came home in the morning before.

Or maybe Eddie’s talked to her about the sudden shift in tone in Steve’s texts, how it’s obvious something has changed between them and it’s freaking Eddie out as much as it is Steve. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Steve’s not proud of it, the way he’s agreed to let Robin pretend to be him so he can take the space to breathe. But he just needs to not to get caught up in the whirlwind of Eddie and his charm, or the way he draws Steve in faster than any moth has been to a flame. So he gave Robin his phone, asked her to screen for anything important, and has been sticking to it for a solid thirty-six hours now.

Robin’s definition of important might differ slightly from his own, considering she hasn’t informed him of anything since yesterday, but that’s well enough for Steve. Maybe she has a point about not needing to respond to every text from Dustin within thirty seconds of receiving it, too.

She’s certainly right to keep him in the dark, mushroom style, every time he asks if Eddie’s called.

He’s stuck ruminating about it pretty hard when Robin elbows him in the ribs to get his attention.

“Him,” she says with all of the conviction Steve’s ever heard in her voice. He turns to follow her gaze until his eyes finally land on the guy in question, only a couple of barstools away from the table they’re huddled over together.

He’s not exactly an Eddie clone, but it’s close enough that if Eddie were to walk in while Steve was hypothetically talking to him, it would send a message for sure. He’s got dirty blonde, shaggy hair that’s not nearly as curly or long as Eddie’s, but also can’t be described as anything but a mane. He’s wearing a t-shirt for a band Steve’s never heard of and jeans that hug his ass so nicely that Steve’s almost tempted.

“I don’t think so,” Steve sighs and sinks further into the booth.

“Why not?” Nancy asks, and catches Chrissy and Robin exchanging a look. “What?”

“Eddie,” they say in unison, and Nancy gets a look on her face like sense has dawned on her once again.

“You’re still not fucking together, but you are still hung up on him?” Nancy rounds on Steve. “Seriously?”

“I—” Steve tries to respond, but Robin cuts him off.

“Well they’re fucking plenty,” she says, going the extra mile to rat him out fully.

“Rob,” Steve protests, giving her ankle kick under the table. Robin just shrugs while Chrissy snorts at their antics, used to them by now.

“You’re both so stupid,” Nancy grumbles before taking another swig of her drink.

Steve’s more tempted to go talk to the random hot guy now just to get away from the disapproving vibe at the table. The temptation only increases when he takes in the man’s hands—they’re strong hands, big and rugged like one of this guy’s hobbies requires some muscle out of them.

It only takes the man’s green eyes sliding over to watch Steve back, then an appreciative smirk lobbed in his direction, for Steve to make up his mind.

“He’s been checking you out for at least ten minutes,” Robin says, laying it on a little thicker. She’s lucky Steve is even willing to listen to her advice right now—and that this guy is attractive as fuck.

“At least he won’t give me shit over Eddie,” Steve grumbles at them as he goes to say hello. The stool beside the man is empty, so Steve slips into it easily and gives him one of the best Harrington Charm smiles he’s got on deck. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Woah, not even a pick up line first?” the guy asks, and his flirtatious smile is cute as hell, Steve will admit.

“Do I really need one?” Steve asks, tilting his head as he does.

“Oh, so he’s cocky and handsome,” the other man nods seriously. “Deadly combination.”

Steve laughs, and it’s easier than he expected it to be. There’s still a hole in his heart that he doesn’t know quite how to sew up tight, but having a drink with this man—whose name is Derek, he learns—and his easy smile makes it just a little bit easier to ignore for now.

He’s not really planning on going much further than a little bit of flirting, maybe exchanging numbers if he’s feeling reckless. He’s really not in a place to do anything but take whatever ego boost Derek’s willing to provide. Maybe that’s not fair of him, exactly, but Robin’s right about one thing, at least: he’s distracted enough not to feel completely miserable for a while. Steve lets himself get lost in the simplicity of it, finds the flow of flirting without the weight of confusion and a million what if’s weighing him down.

It’s all going so well until he hears Eddie’s voice clambering through the crowd, from somewhere around where the girls are sitting.

“What the fuck, Chrissy,” Eddie’s question carries, and Steve’s whole body locks up in tension in an instant.

“What?” Chrissy asks, sounding the picture of innocence. Nothing follows, so Steve assumes Eddie’s just making a face at her, since silent communication is one of their strong suits as well. Then Chrissy laughs and says, “Well, he has a type I guess.”

And oh, Steve’s not ready for whatever’s coming next.

“Did I just stumble into a scenario where you’re trying to make your boyfriend jealous?” Derek asks, and Steve really wishes he’d just stayed home.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Steve says truthfully, yet artfully leaving out some context. He doesn’t really think Eddie has the right to act jealous in the first place, so Steve thinks a little bit of bewilderment on his part is also warranted.

“Ex, then?” Derek guesses, still eyeing Eddie over Steve’s shoulder. Steve doesn’t have the courage to turn around and look.

“He’s just a friend,” Steve sighs at the truth of it, can hear the disappointment in his voice.

Derek can too.

“He looks like he’s thinking about kicking my ass,” he says, sounding less impressed by the second.

“He is not going to do anything—” Steve’s decisive reply is cut off by a hand on his elbow. He’d know that touch anywhere. It’s gentle but demanding, soft yet strong enough to fall to pieces for.

All of a sudden Eddie’s crowding between them, somehow turning one of his more charming smiles into a sneer sent in Derek’s direction. But then his focus lands on Steve, and for a moment it seems like the rest of the room goes silent.

“Can I talk to you?” Eddie asks, eyes almost begging.

Steve can’t believe Eddie’s acting like this just because he’s talking to someone else, can’t believe that for a minute he considers going along with it. He turns to apologize to Derek. “I’m sor—”

But Eddie’s already dragging him off by the elbow. Steve just barely hears Derek say something like, “Why am I always the one that makes them get their shit together?” to his friend before they’re both out of earshot.

Eddie leads Steve out the back door and into an alley beside the bar. He slips his hands into Steve’s back pockets, manhandling him until his back is against the brick and giving his ass a firm squeeze.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy, Stevie?” he asks, an unknowable and wild look in his eye.

It feels twisted even to think, but Steve isn’t sure if he’s more irritated or elated from this reaction out of Eddie. He wonders if he should have started flirting with other people in bars sooner, but he runs with the irritation outwardly.

“What is wrong with you?” he asks, ignoring Eddie’s question entirely. “Since when did you turn into a jealous maniac?”

“That was hardly maniacal,” Eddie scoffs, but there’s this desperate sheen overtaking his whole face that Steve’s never seen before. It quickly disappears behind one of Eddie’s many masks, but Steve still caught it. It’s enough to give his pathetic heart a little jolt of hope—hope that morphs into white hot flames that envelope his whole body when Eddie slips one hand around Steve’s front to grab his dick through his pants. He grins when he feels how Steve’s already getting hard. “I’ll show you maniacal.”

Then Eddie’s kissing him, as possessive and needy as Steve’s ever felt his lips before. There’s nothing soft about it. Every ounce of desperation he saw on Eddie’s face just a moment before is now cascading into the kiss, a hot clash of tongues and teeth like Eddie’s trying to devour him whole.

Because they don’t talk about their feelings, they only do.

Steve just wishes it didn’t feel so goddamn good.

He threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair and pours himself back into what little space is left between them. Eddie bites down on Steve’s bottom lip and growls, all grasping greed and bravado before he soothes it over with his tongue. Steve opens his mouth and lets Eddie in, just like he’s been doing all these months, can’t help it when he feels like all Eddie wants is for Steve to be his.

I am, I am, I swear I’m yours, Steve’s traitor heart chants in his chest, and he’s afraid Eddie can hear it in every beat.

Steve pushes further into Eddie until their chests are pressed together and hips flush. Eddie groans into the contact, rolls his tongue against Steve’s and slots his thigh between Steve’s legs. Steve grinds down onto him just as Eddie pushes up, not a care in the world for how they’re dry-humping in an alleyway like animals.

Steve’s panting he’s missed this so much, and it’s barely been a couple of days. He knows he shouldn’t (promised himself he wouldn’t), but he’s leaning into it. Then Eddie’s hand is on his dick, and he’s losing himself in a sea of want and need and touch and Eddie. Steve can’t believe how he’s gone from vaguely flirting with a stranger to fully hard in a back alley and breaking his promise to himself—to Robin, too—in about two minutes flat.

The thought of Robin snaps him back to reality and he pulls away with a gasp.

“We can’t,” Steve says, but not before Eddie’s already moved to kissing his neck, biting along the underside of his jaw next.

“Why not,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s skin without stopping. Steve’s hips move of their own accord, grinding into Eddie again as he curses himself.

“Because,” Steve says weakly, trying to remember why he said that in the first place. Robin, some rational voice supplies in the back of his head. And your goddamn dignity.

Steve’s eyes fly open and his hands fist in Eddie’s shirt, which Eddie mistakes as a sign of excitement. He chuckles darkly against Steve’s neck, and Steve has to muster every bit of self control he’s ever had in his life.

“Eddie, stop,” he says, somehow managing to keep his voice flat. Eddie does instantly, before he looks back at Steve with that same quiet desperation in his eyes again.

Steve realizes he’s scared.

Eddie tries to cover it with a joke. “Not as into sex in public as last month?”

“Not into sex with you right now,” Steve clarifies, and somehow he finds the annoyance in his chest again, buried somewhere down deep beneath all the layers of lust. And love. Which is why he’s doing this, Steve reminds himself.

He loves Eddie too much to lose him over it—or to lose himself in it.

“What did I do?” Eddie asks, voice straining.

“Nothing,” Steve says, because it’s true. Eddie hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s Steve and his feelings that are all fucked up here. The only thing Eddie’s done is dare not to love Steve back, just like he promised he wouldn’t. But Eddie’s face is crumpling, and Steve can’t stand to watch it. It makes him a little mad that Eddie even gets to look heartbroken, when it’s Steve’s that’s shattering right there in between them. “I just—need some time to myself, Eddie. Okay?”

Eddie’s shaking his head already, though, and Steve’s scared he’s being too vague, that nebulous reasons won’t cut it.

“You keep calling me that,” Eddie says. He finally pulls away entirely, putting space between them that Steve feels like a knife in the gut.

“What?” he asks.

“Eddie.”

“That’s your name,” Steve deflects. He knows exactly what Eddie means, that Eddie feels as foreign coming out of Steve’s mouth as Steve does Eddie’s.

“Not from you,” Eddie clarifies.

Steve doesn’t know how to do this. He has to get out of there. “Just…not now. Okay?”

He doesn’t give Eddie the chance to reply before he turns on his heel and runs back inside.

At first Steve thinks Eddie’s not going to follow him. He goes back to the booth where the girls are sitting to find them all looking at him expectantly. He can’t try to parse what they’re thinking, how they might be judging the undoubtedly miserable look on his face, or if they’ve noticed the slight bulge in his pants. He grabs his jacket and tosses some money on the table before telling Robin he’ll see her at home.

It’s that time of night when cabs are already lined up and waiting outside for the drunks to come stumbling out, and Steve finds one with ease. He’s relieved that Eddie seems to have taken the hint and isn’t following him this time.

Steve thinks he’s managed to escape this mess in particular, at least. Avoiding Eddie’s texts and calls won’t fly, not now that they’ve fought over it. But Steve just needs the space to figure out what to do next. He knows he’s an asshole for running away, but he can’t help it in that moment.

He’s wondering why Eddie even showed up tonight, but he shoves the questions away for later. Right now he just needs to flee.

The driver just starts to pull away from the curb when the door opposite Steve flings open, and Eddie hops in the backseat. The cabbie looks startled, but satisfied enough to keep driving when Eddie slams the door shut behind him and turns his wild eyes on Steve.

“What the fuck!” Steve exclaims, because really. What the fuck.

“I need you to talk to me, Steve,” Eddie says. He’s right, the lack of a Stevie feels almost like a death sentence. “Stop avoiding the subject and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Because dragging me off in a fit of jealousy before storming my cab and nearly killing yourself seems like a healthier way to communicate,” Steve scoffs.

“You stopped answering my texts and literally just ran away from me, Steve!” Eddie throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’re not winning any medals there, either.”

“I haven’t stopped responding—” Steve tries, weakly.

“Oh, please.” Eddie’s laugh is a bitter one. “I know it’s been Robin texting me. I can tell the difference.”

Steve doesn’t point out that no one else has seemed to notice their little phone swap. Instead of trying to read into how well Eddie knows him, he tries to get back on track.

“Eddie,” Steve all but grits his name through his teeth. “When I said I can’t do this right now, I meant that.”

“But why can’t you?” Eddie asks, and as annoyed as they both sound, there’s a current of misery beneath Eddie’s tone that threatens to crack Steve’s heart into a billion shards of glass. “Yesterday morning everything was fine, Stevie. Then something completely beyond my control and knowledge seems to have happened to make you hate me, and you won’t talk to me? Or even look at me?”

“I don’t hate you,” Steve mutters under his breath. He crosses his arms and looks forward, trying to seal his lips shut before he says anything else that might bury him.

“What?” Eddie asks, and every precaution Steve has taken (and not) to avoid this moment has utterly failed him.

“I said I don’t hate you, alright?” Steve all but explodes. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring at his hands in his lap instead of looking Steve in the face. He just jumped into a damn moving vehicle, complained about Steve not looking at him, but now he’s only got eyes for the rings on his pretty fingers. Steve’s so wrung out, pulled taught with exhaustion from holding it in, he throws caution to the wind. Partly because he doesn’t know how else to deal with this, and partly because he’s lost his last bit of sense that’s been keeping it back. “Because I fucking love you. And you don’t love me like that! So I’m trying to unlove you as quickly as possible so everything doesn’t get even more fucked up than it already is, okay? There. That’s my terrible secret, Eds. Are you happy now?”

Eddie doesn’t look up, not right away, and Steve’s heart seizes in his chest. He can’t believe he finally said it out loud, can’t believe how it’s both a relief and absolutely agonizing now that it’s hanging in the air between them.

Behind the curtain of Eddie’s hair it’s hard to see for sure, but Steve still doesn’t think he imagines the way Eddie’s lips twitch.

Eddie finally looks up and Steve’s proven right—his smile is wicked but warm, and there’s a mischief dancing in his eyes where they were filled with fear just a moment ago.

It doesn’t seem like Eddie’s reacting poorly, but Steve’s not entirely sure what to make of it.

“That look in your eye terrifies me,” he admits, and Eddie just laughs. A delighted sound that pools in Steve’s belly and heats him through.

“There’s a fine line between terrified and turned on, Stevie,” Eddie practically crows. The teasing lilt of his voice has Steve’s stomach doing backflips.

“What does that even mean?” Steve’s pretty sure it’s not bad, but he really can’t be sure when his anxiety is blazing through his senses like wildfire.

“It means I fucking love you, too.”

The force of it hits Steve head on, sending him careening into a cloud of relief and shock and unadulterated joy. He stares at Eddie, gobsmacked, can’t possibly believe this is the outcome from finally admitting how he feels.

But he did. He said the words aloud, and then Eddie said them back. Tentatively, he reaches out for Eddie’s hand, brushes his fingertips across the back of it. Eddie smiles again, almost shy, and wraps Steve’s hand up in his own.

Then he pulls Steve in to kiss him.

It’s sweet, this time, careful like they’re afraid to tread on thin ice. But Eddie’s lips are the same as they ever were; and now they’ve gone and told Steve that Eddie loves him, too, so Steve cherishes them even more than with all of the other kisses that came before. Eddie squeezes his hand, smiles against Steve’s mouth.

“Can I take you home now?” Eddie asks. “I promise you can keep yelling if you need to.”

Steve laughs, and it’s the lightest he’s felt in ages. “Yes, please.”

He catches the driver grinning at them in the rearview a few times on the rest of their way home.

Steve’s hard-on only grows more urgent on their way from the car up to his bedroom, even though Eddie’s barely laid a finger on him. It’s the anticipation that’s getting to him more than anything, the promise of this night and many more to come.

Because Eddie loves him.

They’ve both already peeled their shirts and shoes and jackets off and discarded them along the way to Steve’s bed, and Eddie’s shoving Steve up against the bedroom door before Steve even has it closed behind them. Then he’s kissing Steve everywhere, his jaw, his chest, his mouth, like he’s checking that every fiber of Steve is real—that his loving Eddie in return isn’t some kind of mirage.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve asks as Eddie works on sucking a mark into his neck.

Eddie pulls back, searching Steve’s eyes for any sign that he’s joking—like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “I didn’t want to lose this. Lose you.”

Steve doesn’t point out the irony that they almost lost each other for the same stupid goddamn reason. Instead, he says, “I’m not going anywhere, Eds.”

Then Eddie’s kissing him again, feral, like hearing Steve say the words has awoken a new hunger inside of him. Eddie’s slender fingers move to take Steve’s pants off in a hurry, shoves them down just far enough to free Steve’s erection before moving to take off his own—he’s in a rush, and Steve can’t exactly blame him.

Eddie manages to get his pants down around his ankles before Steve can get hands on him. Steve spits in his own hand to add to the slick of precum already leaking out of the tip of Eddie’s cock.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie hisses as Steve gives him a few firm pumps. But he replaces Steve’s grip as he crowds in closer, nudges his cock against Steve's in a slow but urgent slide. “Ah, shit—that’s better.”

Steve laughs through a moan, finds it cute that Eddie thinks he’s gonna stay in charge for long. For the moment he leans into it, though, grinds back against Eddie at his pace, accepting the sloppy glide of their cocks against one another just for a little bit of relief through the friction.

Then Steve’s cock catches Eddie’s frenulum at just the right angle, and Eddie lets out a strangled whimper that tells Steve they have to slow down. This is the first time they’re having sex after saying I love you, and maybe it makes Steve a hopeless romantic, but he wants to savor it.

So he grabs two fistfuls of Eddie’s hair and drags him in for a kiss, laps his tongue against Eddie’s and swallows down his shallow breaths with greed. Then he gives Eddie’s hair a tug until he’s looking back at Steve through heavy lidded eyes—they know each other’s signals so well by now that Eddie gets the message to slow his hips without anything more.

“What do you want?” Steve rasps before tugging Eddie’s earlobe between his teeth.

“Just you,” Eddie replies with ease, and Steve’s stomach swoops. Still, it’s an answer that won’t do.

“Use your words, baby,” Steve tuts.

“I am,” Eddie retorts with a playful whine. Steve looks at him skeptically. “I mean it! Are you really gonna boss me around when I just told you I love you?”

“Well, I did say it first. So, yeah,” Steve shrugs, nonchalant. It’s too easy to get Eddie worked up, he can’t help himself. “Plus, I’m pretty sure you love me because I boss you around.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie’s whole face softens, and Steve knows they’re not teasing anymore. He cups Steve’s cheek and somehow inches a little bit closer, until Steve can feel the cold metal of Eddie’s nipple ring pressing into the overheated skin of his bare chest. “I love you for so much more than just that.”

Steve melts into Eddie’s hands, wants to ask him to list all the reasons without sounding needy. Instead he decides they’ve got time, that right now he just needs Eddie, however he can get him.

Steve pulls him back in for a sloppy kiss as he moves them towards the bed. As soon as Eddie hits the edge of the mattress he sits, and Steve takes the break between them as an opportunity to get his pants the rest of the way off as Eddie does the same.

Eddie looks up at him, waiting, like Steve could literally demand anything in the world from him in that moment and Eddie would do it. He does wrap his hands around Steve’s hips and make a request, though.

“I want you to do something really devious, Stevie. I’m talking filthy stuff,” he admits. There’s mischief playing in his gaze, and Steve can’t wait to find out why.

“Oh?” he buys in. “What’s that?”

“I want you look me in the eye while you let me fuck you,” Eddie leans forward to kiss along Steve’s stomach, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes the whole time. “I want you to see just how much I love you, while you tell me exactly how good it feels to have my cock so deep inside you that it feels like we’ll never be apart. Because I never want you to doubt it again.”

Steve holds Eddie’s gaze for a breath that catches deep in his lungs before he feels a slow smile take over his face. As if he could deny such a pretty face, asking so nicely.

As if he could deny Eddie anything.

“Lay back,” Steve instructs, and Eddie hastens to do just that. Once he’s propped up on the pillows, Steve grabs his bottle of lube from the bedside table and tosses it on the bed. Then he climbs in, straddling Eddie’s waist and sliding their cocks together once more just to get another breathy moan out of the beautiful man beneath him. He slicks his hand with lube before jerking Eddie off a few times with it. “You wanna watch me ride your perfect cock? Watch how good you make me feel while I come apart on it?”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie hisses. “Yes, please.”

“What’re you gonna do for me?” Steve asks, likes drawing it out until Eddie gets whiny about it.

“Gonna fill you up, be so so good for you,” Eddie promises. “I’ll leave you full of my cum just so everyone will know you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Eds.” Steve smirks down at him, and Eddie preens. Steve uses more lube on his fingers and reaches behind himself, slicks his hole before slipping two fingers inside. He fingers himself just to make Eddie watch, delighting in the way Eddie’s cock leaks a little bit more when Steve groans at that first stretch his knuckles provide. Once he’s desperate for more, Steve leans down and grabs Eddie’s chin before licking into his mouth.

“Gonna ride you until we both come, but only if you’re good for me,” Steve murmurs, and Eddie shivers beneath him.

“Anything you want, Stevie,” Eddie agrees in a single breath. “Use me, claim me, I don’t fuckin’ care I just need—fuck—”

Eddie’s blathering begging is replaced with a high whine as Steve lines up his cock and sinks down onto it slowly, inch by inch until Eddie’s bottomed out and fisting Steve’s sheets like it might kill him.

“Shhh,” Steve soothes, even though he’s the one that feels so full he might split in two. He rubs careful circles around Eddie’s nipples while they both adjust, enjoying the way it makes Eddie twitch beneath him. Slowly, Steve leans down to lay more of his weight on Eddie until they’re chest to chest. The extra stretch of his hole around Eddie’s cock as he moves is so delicious, nearly consuming when coupled with the way his own cock gets a little bit of friction as it rubs against Eddie’s stomach.

Eddie closes the rest of the space between them, kisses Steve messily as his hands find their place on Steve’s hips. Neither of them move yet, happy just to feel each other for a blinding moment of anticipation.

Once Steve catches a little bit of his breath he leans back a fraction, brushes some of the hair away from Eddie’s face and just breathes him in.

“You feel so—” Eddie whimpers as Steve clenches around him, “—fucking good, Stevie.”

“You too, Eds,” Steve purrs, and Eddie grips his hips harder. “You ready?”

“For you?” Eddie’s eyes light up and his voice slips back into something velvety. “Always.”

Steve can’t help it, his cock twitches between them, leaves a fresh trail of precum leaking on the skin of both of their stomachs. He groans, fully aware he can’t take it anymore as he starts to ride Eddie’s cock. The wet slide of it is intoxicating, the way Eddie fills him up so perfectly it feels like they were always meant to do this. He stays pressed close to Eddie to start, setting a slow enough pace to drive them both wild with every roll of his hips. Eddie stays patient though, doesn’t try to speed Steve’s pace or even thrust up into him as he moves.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Steve praises as he sits up again, plants his hands on Eddie’s chest for better leverage. Steve’s cock bobs between them as he grinds his hips into a rhythm, and Eddie watches it and bites his lip like he’s straining not to touch it. Steve smiles down at him. “Look so fucking gorgeous beneath me, Eds.”

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps, squeezes Steve’s hips tighter as his hips finally stutter up at the praise. It’s barely a thrust, but it’s timed just right for Eddie’s cock to graze Steve’s prostate. Steve groans as he rides the shockwave of it, a hot gush of arousal straight up his spine. “Wanna touch you,” Eddie says, eyes pleading again.

Steve considers it for a minute, but slaps Eddie’s hand away when he takes Steve’s pause as permission.

“Not yet,” Steve chides, deciding to slip his fingers through Eddie’s instead to hold his hand in check.

“What about my other hand?” Eddie asks in a challenge, somehow managing to be a smartass in such a compromising position. He waggles the fingers on his left hand for effect, and Steve has to bite back a laugh. He does slow his pace down to a near stop, earning a pathetic little whimper out of Eddie in return.

Steve grins down at him sweetly.

“I could always tie you up instead,” Steve threatens with a raised brow.

“Tempting.” Eddie swallows thickly, gives Steve’s hand a squeeze. “But no thanks. Hold my hand, please.”

“Sap,” Steve smiles. He takes Eddie’s other hand in his own, too, before pushing both of them into the mattress beside Eddie’s head as he leans forward again, grinding his cock into the solid yet soft flesh of Eddie’s belly again.

“You started it,” Eddie grins up at him—a dopey, lovesick sort of grin that Steve really should have realized meant Eddie loved him back ages ago.

He can’t get caught up in that now.

“So you wanna jerk me off, huh?” Steve asks as he starts to grind down on Eddie’s cock again. Eddie just nods, biting his lip like he’s afraid he’ll say something bratty and make Steve stop again. Smart boy. “Gonna make you earn it, Eds. Use your pretty cock as a ride for as long as I want before you get to touch me. Before I say you can come, too.”

Eddie whines aloud, but doesn’t complain further. “Anything you want, Stevie.”

Steve hums as he presses down on Eddie’s cock again and can’t help but let out a low groan at this angle—knows he needs more.

“Go ahead and fuck me, Eds,” Steve locks his eyes on Eddie’s again, just like he asked for. “I know how bad you want to.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, fucks his cock up into Steve’s hole with a perfect, fluid motion that leaves Steve seeing stars. He can’t believe how well-timed Eddie’s thrusts are with hardly any leverage in his position. The drag of his cock inside of Steve is unbearably good, hitting his prostate over and over and leaving that tight ring of muscle burning and clenching for more.

Steve knows he won’t last long like this. And based on the mess of satisfied sounds falling out of Eddie’s mouth with every filthy, slick slap of his hips against Steve’s ass, he won’t either.

“Say it again.” Steve grits out the command through clenched teeth, holding on for dear life as he feels another dribble of Eddie’s hot precum inside of him.

“Wha—” Eddie sucks in a deep breath through his nose, like he’s fraying at the seams trying not to come apart before Steve tells him to. “Say what, Stevie?”

“You know what.” Steve licks Eddie’s top lip, keeps riding him without mercy. Eddie’s already a whimpering, needy mess. His cries are just about the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever heard—at least until the next words out of his mouth, anyway.

“Fuck—sweetheart, I—god I fucking love you so much,” Eddie groans.

Steve clenches to hear it, rolls his hips a little more on Eddie’s next push up inside of him. Eddie whines in that way he only does when he’s near tears, and Steve feels like he’s on fire. “What else?”

“What?” Eddie asks, desperately squeezing Steve’s hands, now. “Stevie, please, I’m so close.”

“Tell me what you need, gorgeous,” Steve coos, genuinely wondering which answer he’ll get out of Eddie.

“You, you, you, y—goddamnit—you,” Eddie babbles. “I only ever need you, sweetheart.”

“F—uck,” Steve hisses, his voice carrying the word out of control like a song with the next drag of his cock against Eddie’s stomach. “You’re such a good boy, Eds—” Eddie groans at that, a guttural sound that Steve feels down to his toes. “Love you so much, need you to come inside me.”

Eddie’s responding moan is so desperate, it’s almost violent what it does to his voice. His hips stutter, and Steve knows hearing the words affect him just as much as they do Steve.

Eddie doesn’t let go right away, though. Instead he nods at Steve’s aching, swollen cock between them. “C—can I? Please? Want you to come with me.”

Steve groans and just releases Eddie’s hands as his permission, wonders if the red marks he left between Eddie’s knuckles will bruise. Eddie’s almost giddy in the way he wraps his ringed finger around Steve’s cock, hitches his other hand to the curve of Steve’s ass in a tight grip to guide his movements.

“Go ahead, pretty boy,” Steve encourages. “Let me see you come.”

With Eddie’s cock buried deep in his ass, Eddie’s hand wrapped around his own cock and jerking him off in perfect strokes, Steve has to hold on not to come right away. But he wants to watch Eddie first, doesn’t want to miss a minute of him losing control. He watches as Eddie’s face contorts and his mouth falls open, drinks in every blissed out sound Eddie makes, rides Eddie faster and somehow keeps himself together until Eddie falls apart.

Eddie’s orgasm is shattering, leaves the very air around them buzzing with the force of it, and his whole body is shaking as he comes with a throaty scream. Steve feels the hot gush of cum inside him, feeling it pushed further in with every broken thrust of Eddie’s hips as Steve rides him through it.

It’s enough to make Steve lose his hold on the edge. He finally goes tumbling over into an all-consuming pit of ecstasy once Eddie’s grip on his cock tightens through the last gasps of his own high.

“Eds—fuck!” Steve cries. He manages to keep his eyes open to watch the spray of cum he leaves all over Eddie’s chest, the way Eddie opens his mouth to try and catch some of it like snowflakes on his tongue. It’s so filthy, so beautiful, that another searing shockwave crests through Steve, his whole body crackling with electricity as the next spurt of cum hits the corner of Eddie’s mouth and chin.

He laps it up greedily, and Steve whines as he watches, mesmerized. Eddie pumps every bit of pleasure out of Steve that he can, until the last fragments of his orgasm are an echo through his limbs and he’s nearly ready to collapse from it. Somehow, Steve manages to stay upright on shaking legs long enough to drag his fingers through some of the cum on Eddie’s stomach. Eddie’s eyes widen as he watches, anticipating what Steve’s next move is with ease.

Steve brings his fingers up to Eddie’s lips, and Eddie’s mouth is already open and waiting for them. Eddie moans around Steve’s middle and forefingers, swirls his tongue around them and lets his eyes fall shut like Steve’s cum is a full-course meal.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Steve praises again, and Eddie hums before releasing Steve’s fingers with a slurping noise that makes Steve’s spent cock twitch pathetically between them.

“All mine,” Eddie says, wipes the last bit of cum from his chin and licks his fingers clean of that, too. “Will never get enough of you, Stevie.”

It’s unbearably sexy, but more than anything it makes Steve’s love-wrecked heart soar.

“Love you,” Steve murmurs, stroking Eddie’s face as he does. Eddie leans into his touch, and even though Steve can feel Eddie’s cock softening inside him, he wants to stay right there forever. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

“God, yes,” Eddie agrees with a low rumble, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and bringing him to lay against his chest. Steve goes happily, mess between them be damned. For now he just wants to keep Eddie inside of him for as long as he can, feel the stretch and the fullness and the cum leaking out of him in sated bliss.

“You were so good for me,” Steve tells Eddie, running his fingers through his tangled, sweaty curls. He presses soft kisses to Eddie’s face, revels in the fact that he’s not losing this—that he doesn’t have to go anywhere. “Gonna take such good care of you.”

It feels like a bigger promise than for just that moment, and Eddie hears it too.

“Love you, Stevie,” he whispers before catching Steve’s lips in a kiss. It’s languid, almost lazy with satisfaction. Once more Steve can taste himself on Eddie’s tongue, and instead of it leaving him feeling empty this time, he feels full to burst.

Steve’s not sure how long they stay like that, holding each other tight and unwilling to let go. But eventually Steve moves to get something to clean them both up with before they freeze or end up uncomfortably stuck together. There’s only a slight wobble to his gait as the best kind of soreness starts to set it, even if his legs are still a little shaky. When he makes it to the hallway—stark naked and still with Eddie’s cum leaking out of him—he notices the light beneath Robin’s door is on. Realizing exactly how there’s no talking their way out of this one, he keeps his dash to the bathroom short. He wipes himself down in a hurry before wetting a fresh washcloth and taking it back to Eddie.

He winces as he carefully closes the bedroom door behind him, because he knows there’s a good chance Robin will come barging in if she knows they’re done.

“What’s that face for?” Eddie asks, voice still sleepy.

“Robin’s home,” Steve says guiltily. “And probably Chrissy, too. Which means they’re gonna kill us, because we were loud as fuck.”

For some inexplicable reason, Eddie smiles. With all the conviction in the world he says, “They’re not gonna kill us.”

Steve gives him a confused look, but his curiosity unlocks his body enough to move towards the bed and start taking care of Eddie like he meant to.

For a moment, Steve tries to focus on wiping Eddie’s skin clean. Eddie watches Steve’s soft, deliberate movements as he clears the last of the sweat and cum from Eddie’s chest, careful to get the rest of the lube off the sensitive skin around his now softened cock. Steve’s slept with people who thought this part was gross, who hated the intimacy of sharing it with him. Eddie’s so comfortable, though, soaking in everything Steve does with such affection—no, Steve can say that it’s love now—that it makes Steve’s heart stutter a little happy tune against his ribs.

He loves that Eddie lets him take care of him, that Eddie takes care of Steve right back.

“You’re so good to me, Stevie,” Eddie hums as Steve finally settles back into bed with him. He thinks it’s some kind of minor miracle they didn’t wreck the sheets, too. Or maybe it’s a sign they didn’t try hard enough this go around.

“Yeah, well,” Steve smiles as he snuggles into Eddie’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close as pillows his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s ‘cause I love you.”

Eddie’s returning smile is so bright, Steve would happily go blind just to keep looking at it. “Mm, as luck would have it? Love you too.”

Steve kisses him with abandon, relishing the way he can leave his heart open and soul bared now. There’s still fear there—that things might go wrong somehow, that Eddie will change his mind and run—but knowing that Eddie feels the same soothes some of that ache, keeps it pinned to an undercurrent that Steve can choose not to focus on. Instead he can let the love float to the top, the way Eddie’s hands in his hair and lips pressed up against his own makes him giddy with the possibility of a future.

“What’d you mean, before?” Steve eventually asks. “Why won’t Rob and Chris kill us when they’ve been trying so hard to keep us apart?”

“Aha, but I suspect they haven’t been, not really,” Eddie says with an almost appreciative smile.

“Explain.”

“Chrissy definitely waited until you were talking to that guy to text me and ask me to come down to the bar,” Eddie says, and Steve feels his jaw drop open more than he allows it.

“She told you to come?” Steve asks, probably more surprised than he should be. “But the whole point of tonight was getting me away from you!”

“Pretty sure the actual whole point of tonight was triggering enough jealousy to make me break,” Eddie shrugs.

“Oh my god,” Steve says, realizing Eddie has it right. “Those schemers.”

“Absolutely conniving,” Eddie agrees. “But it worked.”

“Mmm,” Steve says skeptically, unwilling to give them all that much credit yet. Especially since Steve’s really the one who broke. He doesn’t get to make the distinction before a sharp, loud moan erupts from Robin’s bedroom, however.

Apparently Robin and Chrissy’s payback will be swifter this time around, and Steve wishes they’d taken the cab back to Eddie’s place instead.

Eddie’s eyes go wide as two more distinct voices follow the first. “Is that…?”

“Nancy,” Steve nods with equally wide-eyed realization. He isn’t grossed out by Robin’s sex life, and he knows she’ll tell him everything in the morning whether he hears it happening in real-time or not. He’s more concerned with the fact that he’s going to wake up with three expectant and smug faces waiting for an explanation in the morning, and he’s really not sure there’s any way to prepare for that. “Robin did warn me they might bring her home.”

“How thoughtful of her. Chrissy didn’t bother,” Eddie laughs, but seems willing to let it go as he presses soft kisses into Steve’s neck.

Another round of noises from the other room interrupts their flow, though.

“We’re going to have to come up with a system for choosing which apartment everyone goes to at the end of the night,” Steve points out with a pout. “Between us, and now them? The neighbors are gonna think we’re porn stars.”

Eddie laughs again, clearly delighted that Steve’s apartment has turned into the Horny Place. Steve can’t remember a time he’s seen him this happy. Eddie rolls on top of Steve and brushes two fingertips against his lips, a devious smile playing on his own. “Well, we might as well live up to it the rumors and give them a show, don’t you think?”

He kisses the pout off of Steve’s face and spends the rest of the night giving the performance of a lifetime.

please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! it means the world <3

[patchworkgargoyle]

Fort Munson 🌿

For Lex's Spicy Six Summer Fanworks Challenge, based on the dialogue prompt: "That’s the most elaborate treehouse I’ve ever seen." Thanks for putting all this together @thefreakandthehair! Rating: G or T (for swearing) || CW: none. || Words: ~3.8k On Ao3 Here~

Heat sat stagnant and cloying inside Eddie’s room where he and Steve lay sprawled on the floor. Eddie had said that heat rises, so they’d migrated from the bed to the worn-in carpet, and now starfished there silently. Steve could feel the stickiness of sweat on his forehead. If there were a breeze coming in through the open window it’d be fine, but all that filtered in were the high, raspy sounds of crickets and cicadas.

Could they go to Steve’s, where the AC wasn’t busted for another week until the repair guy could come out to fix it? Yeah. Sure. It was homey at the trailer, comforting. Warm. So fucking warm. He sighed, and swore his own breath was cooler than the air surrounding them. But Steve would rather stay here with Eddie than be home alone. Lately he’d rather hang out with Eddie than do most other things, other than hang out with Robin. 

She’d teased him for it, of course, when Steve told her about his crush on Eddie. Said he’d gotten a crush on a boy that looked like a mop, scrawny and all hair, and being offended on Eddie’s behalf he shoved her off the couch. Well, he’d meant to just push her, but her balance was terrible and down she toppled. After she’d gotten over her surprise, and their swearing and giggling and retaliatory slapping had calmed down, Robin told him, “I’m excited for you, Steve,” with a sappy grin. He’d just shrugged and tried to hide his own bashful smile.

So when Eddie asked yesterday if Steve would want to spend his day off at his place, his expressive, gorgeous brown eyes sparkling, there was no way Steve would turn him down. Even if it was so hot Steve felt he’d start melting into the floor.

“This sucks.”

Steve craned his neck to look at Eddie, who was frowning up at the ceiling. His bangs had gone a little stringy. “Huh?” Steve said.

“This heat, it fucking sucks dude. This isn’t hanging out.” His arm raised to lazily flail between them both then flopped loudly to the floor again. A different kind of warmth sparked up Steve’s arm when their pinkies touched, and Steve concentrated very hard on not flinching or hooking their fingers together. “This is dying. Slowly. Uneventfully. I feel like a slow roasted chicken.”

Humming, Steve said, “Yeah.”

Finally Eddie’s head tilted to the side, facing Steve. An amused smile tugged the corner of his lips down and now Steve had to concentrate on not looking. “Sounds like the heat’s melted your brains, big boy. I can see ‘em leaking out your ears.”

It’s more than just the heat, Steve wanted to say, opened his mouth and nearly let the words escape, but he caught himself with a breathy laugh. “I think you’re right,” he replied instead.

“‘Cause I’m always right.”

Steve just raised a doubtful eyebrow. It climbed higher when Eddie stuck his tongue out.

“Well I’m right about this sucking. C’mon, I’ve got an idea.” Eddie slapped his thighs and bolted upright, rolling to his feet with surprising ease while Steve peeled himself off the carpet with much less gusto and a lot more complaining.

“You’re seriously making us move right now?” he grumbled as he stood. But he heard Eddie groan and before he realised, Steve’s hands shot out to stabilise him as he wobbled.

“Shouldn’t’ve got up so fast,” he said sheepishly.

Still holding Eddie by the shoulders, Steve snorted. “You think?” He held onto Eddie just shy of too long before letting his hands drop. “Alright, you made me get up, this better be worth it.”

“Oh it’s worth it.” Eddie winked, then led them out of the trailer–only pausing to lock up–and instead of heading to one of their vehicles he started down the road towards the dead end.

While the heat out here wasn’t as stale, it almost felt worse, the sun bearing down on them directly. The road behind them shimmered with that faint heat mirage and Steve could feel it through the soles of his sneakers. “Pretty sure this sucks worse, Eddie.”

Eddie spun on his heel and started walking backwards. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked, a coy tip to his chin.

With his life. But Steve wouldn’t say that, either. “I dunno, Munson. You’re leading me into the woods, alone, no witnesses? Kinda suspicious of you.”

“I am offended, Steve, how could you say such a thing to me, of all people?” He clutched his chest and dramatically threw his head back, only to stumble when the asphalt gave way to dirt and sparse grass. Steve jolted to try and catch him, but Eddie recovered quickly, grinning widely. “See, could a suspicious guy do that?”

Steve laughed, a little baffled. “Nah, now you’re just a klutz.”

“At least I can trust you to try and catch me, Stevie.”

The fondness Steve thought he heard in Eddie’ voice would’ve made him blush if the heat hadn’t done that already. They held each other’s gaze, standing close, just a moment in time that stretched out like a plucked guitar string left to ring. Eddie cut it off with a nod to the woods. Steve was helpless, and couldn't do anything but follow.

Grasshoppers lived up to their name, hopping through the brittle, sun bleached grass as they avoided the boys’ careless feet. Steve watched a few cling to Eddie’s bare calves before he shook them off. When they’d gotten a few feet into the treeline, the leaves above sheltered them on their walk. The shade was desperately needed. He felt like he could breathe again, even if it wasn’t all that much cooler, but he still took a moment to stretch his arms up over his head and inhale the greenness of sun-warmed leaves. Steve let his arms fall again with a small, satisfied groan, pulling the hem of his shirt back into place, and saw Eddie staring. “What?”

Eddie swallowed, then shrugged. “Told you it’d be better.”

“I know, I trusted you,” Steve teased and bumped their shoulders together. Though Eddie tried to hide his shy smile behind a lock of hair, Steve still saw it, matched it with his own. There was a certain type of gleaming pride he felt when he managed to get Eddie to smile like that. “Are we going somewhere, though, or are we just on a walk in the woods?”

“We’re goin’ somewhere. Just don’t laugh when we get there.”

“No promises,” Steve said, teasing again, and Eddie half-heartedly shoved him for it.

“Now I don’t know if I wanna show you,” Eddie said with a miffed tone. He started walking again, though, so Steve kept pace.

“Why, is this some kind of secret nerd lair? Superman’s Cave of Loneliness?”

The sheer amount of disbelief and dismay in Eddie’s face when he whirled to face him made Steve howl with laughter. “I’m sorry, ‘Cave of Loneliness!?’ I don’t even read Superman and I know it’s the Fortress of Solitude, man. It’s in the movies!” Eddie squawked.

“How is Fortress of Solitude any different from Cave of Loneliness, huh?” Eddie’s mouth opened and shut once, then again, and Steve knew he’d won. “Yeah, you can’t say shit, Eddie, you know I’m right.”

Eddie glared so venomously that Steve almost missed the charmed smile he was poorly fighting off. “Fuck you, Harrington,” he said, though his lips pursed trying to keep from laughing.

“You wish.” Steve winked, then started walking in the direction Eddie had been leading them in. When Eddie lagged behind, face frozen in shock, Steve fixed him with an expectant look until the lights came back on behind Eddie’s eyes and he scrambled forward.

The trees grew taller, wider, and more gnarled the further they walked, and the shade grew deeper. Sunshine flecked the forest floor, showing the way between the trunks and glancing off still-green foliage untouched by the summer heat. It was beautiful, but Steve kept getting distracted by the way the light caught in Eddie’s hair; the dappling made the strands of dark brown flash with vibrant reds and richer browns, and danced over his cheekbones like golden kisses. Steve wanted to replace them with his own, his chest aching sweetly with desire, but he wasn’t brave enough yet.

He could still wish for it, though. Eddie’s skin would probably feel soft under Steve’s lips. He’d take his time, too, placing one languid, deliberate kiss after the other, tracing the path the sun had left.

The bubble of his daydream popped when Eddie came to a halt in front of a massive old oak and spread his arms upwards with a, “Ta-dah!” Following his wiggling fingers, Steve saw the structure sitting snugly in the tree’s sturdy, sprawling branches.

A treehouse. The foundation of it seemed to be built from old railroad ties, bolted into the trunk, while the rest of it looked a little newer. Big, childishly menacing eyes were painted around the windows, and below those and slashed across the door was a mouth full of triangle-shaped teeth; in the middle of the mouth, on the door, a red tongue lolled out. The rest of the rounded walls looked like they’d been black once, but had now faded away to a mottled, chipped grey. A fake chimney sprouted from the roof, which was shaped like a cone and covered with mismatched shingles. While the base still seemed sturdy, the house itself was starting to look a little rickety.

“What do you think?”

“That’s the most elaborate treehouse I’ve ever seen.” That wasn’t even a lie. Steve had said it genuinely, and with a fair bit of surprise. He would’ve been over the moon if he’d seen this as a kid.

Eddie beamed at the praise. “Ain’t it? Wayne and I built it ourselves. Well, we had a bit of help from one of his buddies from the plant who does carpentry on the side, but still. Took a whole summer to build too.” He walked to the trunk and that’s when Steve spotted the rusty ladder rungs drilled into the tree. His ringed hand closed around a rung with a clicking sound.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eddie,” Steve warned.

Rolling his eyes so hard his whole head followed, Eddie said, “Live a little, Stevie!” Hoisting himself up, Eddie began to scale the ladder easily, his hands and feet finding each placement like it was habitual. It probably was. Steve watched him climb the ten-ish feet up–and absolutely appreciated the view–until Eddie landed on the narrow space between the edge of the foundation and the door and pushed the door open on its squeaky hinges. “See, nothing to worry about. Hurry up, you’re missing the party!” he shouted over the edge before ducking into the treehouse.

Huffing, Steve shook his head and followed Eddie up at a much more cautious pace. Not a single rung was loose, thankfully. At the top, he clambered onto the foundation and found the house was a little smaller than it seemed from the ground, but Eddie had wedged himself inside against the left side, still smiling, legs folded in so that Steve could crouch his way inside.

“This is, uh, a tight fit,” he grunted, smacking the back of his head on the doorway.

“Be careful,” Eddie said, and Steve glared without any heat.

“Bit late for that.”

Some shuffling, arguing, and contorted limbs later, and Steve was settled inside the treehouse. His and Eddie’s legs were practically intertwined as they sat across from each other, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable; the curve of the rounded walls was pretty nice to rest against, actually.

“This is great,” he said as he inspected the place. Cobwebs hung everywhere, and he was sure a racoon had slept in the leaves and fur piled next to him. There was a dusty red plastic kid’s chair tucked under a piece of plywood jutting from the wall that must’ve been a desk, but now held an abandoned bird’s nest. The walls were covered in crayon drawings: stick figures with swords and guns acting out grand battles against monsters, a big castle that had a flag with an ‘M’ on it, a red dragon shooting laser beams instead of fire from its mouth. Steve nodded at the dragon with his chin. “That’s different.”

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, that and the dudes with guns started when my dad let me watch Wizards way too young.” At Steve’s quizzical expression, he continued, “Animated movie from ‘77. I dunno, you might like it. It’s not your typical fantasy stuff.”

“I like fantasy sometimes, just not when Dustin keeps ragging on me to watch or read or play it all the damn time.”

“Fair,” Eddie laughed.

“Maybe we could watch it sometime, together?”

He looked pleasantly surprised. “You’d wanna watch a weird fantasy movie with me?” Steve shrugged. “Alright man, it’s a date. Just tell me when and where and I’ll procure the goods.”

Something fluttered in Steve’s belly when Eddie said ‘it’s a date,’ even though he hadn’t meant it like that. Still, that genuine little smile that lingered on Eddie's face gave him just the tiniest glint of unwanted hope.

“When did you and your uncle build this?” he asked to distract himself from the small riot happening inside himself.

“When I was eleven. I’d been living with Wayne for about a year, and he wanted to do something for me to celebrate even though I’d spent most of that year being a little shit. His friend Dale had gotten ahold of the wood for free, and Wayne had known about this old treehouse foundation,” Eddie knocked on the floor, “for a while. So during the summer he took some time off from work and we built it with Dale’s help in a week. Definitely stabbed my foot with a nail once.”

Steve looked at the construction with a new appreciation, and also a little bit of old, selfish longing. But he pushed that down. “That sounds nice.”

“You ever have a treehouse built around Harrington Manor?”

“Nah.” Steve wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin where they crossed. “I tried to convince my dad once when I was little. He even bought the stuff for it. Mom told him it’d be an eyesore in the yard, though, and I was too young to take it all into the woods and build it by myself. It just sat around until my dad got rid of it.”

Eddie hummed, a bitter twist to his mouth. It was a look he always got on the rare times Steve talked about his parents. “Wouldn’t it be kinda funny if that treehouse stuff you dad got rid of was the wood Dale found? This shit was all pre-cut and everything, I think.”

Chuckling a bit, Steve said, “Yeah, maybe.”

“I choose to believe it, and therefore I decree it to be True.” Head held high, Eddie smacked his fist into the floor like a gavel. Steve didn’t bother hiding the grin that crept up on him. “Twas yours once, King Steve, then passed on to become Fort Munson so that you may in the future visit the bounty you bestowed upon the Kingdom of Munson as a sign of peace and goodwill.”

“I would’ve thought this’d be Castle Munson.”

“Nope, that’s the trailer, Steve. Get it right.”

Steve laughed hard enough to knock his head against the wall. Eddie was too good at that, making Steve’s gloomy moments brighter with his nerdy antics, and while Steve figured it was the crush making everything Eddie did that much more, he hoped it wouldn’t fade. Even if it also made his chest hurt.

“Would’ve been nice if we’d built it together, as kids. If we’d been friends then, y’know?” He sighed and turned away from Eddie, not that it was easy to hide in the tight space they’d jammed themselves into. “Maybe I’d–maybe things would’ve turned out differently.”

A clean white Reebok knocked into Steve’s dirty Nike. A scolding. “ Stop beating yourself up over there or I’m gonna start doing it for you. I don’t want different, Stevie. Don’t want you any different.”

Steve hid cheek against his arms when he felt it grow red, hoped Eddie wouldn’t notice it travelling up to the tip of his ear. “I don’t think beating me up for beating myself up is helpful,” he huffed.

“Well I’m gonna. Don’t test me. I’ll use percussive maintenance on your ass.”

Steve frowned, but not at the nonsense words that came out of Eddie’s mouth. “What’s that?” he asked.

“What, percussive maintenance? It’s like when you hit the TV to make the signal come through, or–oh. Uh.”

There was a drawing next to Steve’s head, a stick figure knight kneeling and kissing the hand of another stick figure that wore a crown. He traced a curious finger over the crown and the short hair of the drawing, the yellow and black crayon still waxy after a decade of weathering. “Aren’t princesses supposed to have long hair or something?”

Eddie’s feet shuffled away from Steve’s. His heart plummeted in his chest, a drop from a rollercoaster, and he watched Eddie’s face turn inscrutable, his eyes fixed downward. Shit. What had he done wrong? The humourless laugh that followed made Steve feel even worse.

“Eddie, I’m sorry, I–”

“Sure, when you’re a kid princesses have long hair,” Eddie interrupted. His hands were locked together, almost white-knuckle tight, twitching up and down with a nervous tick Steve knew well, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. It looked like he was fighting something, whether to say something or not. All Steve wanted to do was reach out, pry his hands apart and take them into his own, but he wasn’t sure if that would even be welcome now or not.

“You don’t have to tell me, whatever it is. I put my foot in my mouth all the time, man, you can just tell me to fuck off.”

“No, I. I–I gotta. Robin said I should just, just do it, you know? Just gimmie a second.”

Steve frowned, concerned, but kept quiet, even as Eddie ran his now shaking hands through his hair. A curl got caught in one of his rings and Eddie cursed, but Steve darted forward to gently untangle it before Eddie just ripped it out. He tucked the soft strand back amongst the rest with care and met Eddie’s dark, wide, longing eyes.

Eddie groaned and hid his face in his hands. “See, Steve, you go and do shit like that and sometimes I think I can do this, but. Fuck.”

Heart hammering in his chest, Steve asked, urged, “What, Eddie?”

“That’s a prince, Steve.” The words came out as a shaky whisper and hung in the small space between them, caught in the air like dust motes.

It took Steve much less time to connect the dots this time than the last time someone came out to him. “So… you’re gay?”

A shuddering sigh escaped Eddie’s chest and his shoulders slumped. He still didn’t look up. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve had a crush on girls once or twice, but. Mostly just guys.”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to feel like this, this jumble of calm and relief and so hopeful and happy he could dance or shout or shake something. Fireworks over a still lake. He balled his fists just to keep from grabbing Eddie and yanking him closer.

“That’s cool. Good, actually.”

Eddie snorted and started to lift his head. “‘Good?’ What do you mean, good?”

While Eddie spoke, Steve quickly shuffled to his knees–staying hunched over so he didn’t bump his head again–and leaned into Eddie’s space a fraction more, hands braced by Eddie’s hips to keep from flopping into his lap. Eddie stared up at him, awed, slack-jawed, and Steve could feel his warm breath ghost across his cheeks, could see the way the summer had intensified the faint freckles that dusted the bridge of Eddie’s nose. They stood out more as the blush in his cheeks darkened.

“I like both,” Steve shared quietly, earnestly. “I like you, Eddie.”

“You… you like me?”

Steve grinned, wide and goofy but he couldn’t care less. “Yeah. I like you a lot.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit–”

“Eddie,” Steve laughed and cupped his warm, scarred cheek in his palm. He’d meant to pull Eddie in for a kiss, to finally make all those daydreams come true, but instead Eddie’s hand wrapped around his. Gently, Eddie brought it away from his face, his grasp sliding down to the tips of Steve’s fingers as he arched Steve’s hand. Then he brought it to his lips, gaze set meaningfully on Steve’s. Pressed his lips to the back of Steve’s hand in a kiss so reverent it had goosebumps breaking out over Steve’s skin, making his breath catch around the sudden lump in his throat.

“I like you a lot too, Steve,” Eddie said, still quiet, as if speaking any louder would burst the fragile and pearlescent bubble of joy around their puzzle-pieced bodies. Steve touched his forehead to Eddie’s with a watery laugh. He couldn’t help it, pulled there by a tug on his heartstrings, and his grin grew almost painful when Eddie nuzzled their noses together.

All it took was the slightest movement. Neither boy could tell who did it first; both of them met in the middle. Steve felt Eddie’s bottom lip press between his, cradled it there softly, pouring every bit of yearning and desire he’d been feeling for months into this one simple touch. When they parted with that delicate sound of a broken kiss, Steve’s eyes fluttered open to see Eddie’s still closed. A slow, satisfied smile grew, making those dimples Steve loved so much appear in Eddie’s cheeks.

And Eddie giggled. Steve hadn’t ever heard him giggle before and it made him feel like a shaken up can of soda. Quickly he ducked in and kissed him again, and again, desperate to release the pressure and hoping to coax more of that laugh from Eddie.

They kissed and laughed and held each other in the treehouse until they lost track of time, until their lips were redder than their faces and their stubble had rubbed a few spots just a little raw. When they finally came up for air, the sun was lower in the sky, painting the forest outside the open door in golden hour hues.

“I guess there’s more than peace between our kingdoms,” Eddie said, and Steve snorted into his shoulder.

“Good thing I trusted you, then.”

Eddie wound his arms around Steve and held him close enough that Steve could hear his heartbeat through the soft fabric of his old band tee. In the midst of their kissing he’d ended up sprawled between Eddie’s knees, and they’d both sunk down onto the cramped, dusty floor.

“Real good thing, Stevie.”

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