#Nancy finds out about steddie

[nburkhardt]

This is something that hasn’t left me since I read a fic from fucking glee years ago. It’s haunting me and goes away only to come back and swirl in my head so I’m just gonna write it out.

Saying this now, i remember a lot of season 4 but I’ve blocked out the Stancy parts hahaha so it’s not completely accurate to the show I don’t think. Also a quick heads up, I skip a lot of what happens in the show because it’s taking up too much brain power remembering those things lol (ps: if you see typos, no you don’t)

~

“I always pictured you, just, wanted to let you know before we head straight into danger”

Something inside of her wants to break and yet all she can do is nod at him and immediately head into that danger. Not wanting to look to closely at it right now, there’s more important things going on right now.

Takes her shotgun and decides she’s ending this once and for all.

It feels like an eternity passes before she finds herself in the hospital. One second she’s ruining her eardrums using the shotgun right next to her face, the next she’s following the emt’s light.

Surprisingly all of them has made it, she doesn’t know how but they have. It’s all she knows, couldn’t hear properly and too out of it to really follow anyone anyway.

“-eler, ms? Hello, Ms. Wheeler? Can you hear me?”

Nancy blinks hard and looks around to find a nurse standing next to her, “oh, sorry. What did you say?”

The nurse smiles softly at her before shaking her head, “I was asking if you wanted to call your parents now? Our generator finally kicked in and we’ve already asked your friends”

That makes her blink again, her ears still somewhat ringing, “yeah- yeah! I’ll, um, do that”

The call with her mom she barely hears, but she knows that they’re on their way. As she hangs up the phone she looks around and doesn’t see any of her friends, it makes her nervous.

“Hey, where are my friends?” She asks the same nurse and catches her surprised look, “did- you already told me didn’t you?”

The nod is enough but the nurse still says, “Yes, two of them got admitted, the other two are in there with them. They didn’t want to be separated so they’re in room 130, just over there”

She knocks once before opening it to find what she expected, Steve in one bed with Robin clinging to him and Eddie on the other with Dustin sitting next to him.

It shouldn’t be surprising but it is.

“Nance! Heyyyyyy, welcome to the party!”

Robin snorts, “don’t mind the Dingus Duo, the doctors gave them some strong medicine for the bites”

She shakes her head, smiling just a little at them. Steve’s mumbling about Robin ruining the party, Dustin’s laughing and Eddie has his eyes closed either falling asleep or already there. She takes a seat on the extra chair, opens her mouth but lost her words. The room is filled with beeping, Steve and Robin whispering and Eddie snoring.

It’s nice, this is nice.

A pleasant change from the chaos they went through just hours ago.

Seeing Jonathan is amazing, he pulls her close and presses a kiss to her forehead. Her arms are wrapped around him and she can’t stop the tears from falling even if it’s a happy moment.

Because it is, actually seeing him in person and not just hearing his voice.

He holds her close and it feels great, it does. But there’s Steve’s words echoing in her head. It makes her hide her face in hopes to cancel them out, she’s with her boyfriend. The boy she loves with all her heart, and yet, yet she’s thinking of the one she broke at sixteen.

Those words swirl, rattle and settles in her head as she helps fix the cabin up. They burn when Jonathan jokes about Steve being in charge, she huffs a laugh but disagrees.

She sees the confusion on Jonathan’s face. That doesn’t surprise her. Instead of continuing, they’re interrupted.

Seeing Joyce and all of the Byers reunite brightens the moment of confusion, seeing Hopper is a massive shock but a welcomed one.

Fixing the cabin is a process, but with the actual adults back, they decide to stop for the day and make their way home.

She watches as Mike clings to El and Will, watches as Joyce holds Hopper’s hand in a death grips. Sees Jonathan hovering and she’s on the outside.

There’s those words making her stay on the outside.

There’s static in her ears, her vision blurry, heart beating fast and she can’t figure out what happened. How did this happen? They were fine, Jonathan promised. She promised.

“I’m really sorry, Nance. I just can’t be in a relationship anymore, I love you. I do, but my family needs me and I, I need them more. You have to understand” he’s holding her close and she can feel his tears fall onto her, “I won’t ask you to wait, you deserve someone who’ll love and focus on you.”

All she can do is nod as tears go down her face.

They share one last kiss before separating for good. He hugs her close and she squeezes her eyes shut.

It’s several hours later, having spent most of the day in a haze. She’s sitting at her desk, trying to get her focus back, when those words from months ago start to swirl back in.

“I always pictured you, just, wanted to let you know before we head straight into danger”

“-just travel across the country, with my family”and “always dreamt this” filters in with it, she doesn’t know what she’s feeling, she shouldn’t be thinking about her first boyfriend like this.

Jonathan just broke up with her, not even a full twenty four hours yet.

But the words are swirling fast and she can feel her stomach flutter suddenly remembering that feeling those emotions Steve used to give her.

It was nice, even if sometimes she had to be away from him. He did treat her like she was his world and it felt like it. Nancy goes to sleep with a plan set in mind.

Tomorrow, she’ll go to Steve’s and hope he still wants that second chance.

Dressed in her best clothes, wearing pretty make-up, she makes her way to the Harrington house.

Seeing Eddie’s van parked outside doesn’t surprise her, not really, what does make her pause is when she walks by a bike and skateboard on the porch.

Seeing that makes her doubt the timing, Eddie there is alright he shouldn’t know the history between her and Steve. She also swears she heard him talking Steve about lost loves and second chances.

The bike can only be owned by Dustin and he definitely knows the history and Max well, since Spring Break, has been particularly living with Steve at this point. Stating a number of times that Steve is her brother, she might not know the story but she’ll be questioning.

But she’s here now and Steve’s words are on fire in her head.

So, she moves ahead determined. She knocks on the door and takes a few deep breaths to get her composure.

The door opens and it’s not Steve answering, it’s Dustin and she blinks. Losing that composure she just gained, it’s quick and she’s quick to get it back with an easy smile. “Hi Dustin, can I come in?”

He’s been hanging out with Eddie too much lately, since he is loose with his posture now and opens the door with an exaggerated smile and waving his arm as he opens the door more.

“Nancy?”

She looks around, sitting on the couch is Max who’s got an eyebrow raise and frown.

“Hi Max, I wanted to speak with Steve. What’re you doing here?”

Both of them shrug and Dustin moves to sit next to Max, “We have plans with Steve and Eddie, we got tired of waiting outside”

“So we broke in”

She rolls her eyes, moves to stand closer to the stairs, “Are they awake? Where is Eddie?”

The two share a look and she can’t figure out what it means, Dustin has a mischievous smile once he’s looking back towards her, “Upstairs”

A little suspicious at the look, but the words in her head has her pushing forward despite the alarm bells ringing that something is up.

Steve’s house has changed since the last time she was here, there’s more life within it and old family portraits are gone, photos of friends in their places instead. There’s a door with a sign saying ‘Dustin’s room’ on it, and she passes an open door that was originally Steve’s. It’s cleared out except for the desk and the plaid wallpaper.

The next room is opened just a bit, she itches closer and pushes the door to see more and her whole body freezes.

There on the bed is not only Steve but Eddie too. From where she’s standing, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back and has an arm around him; keeping him close.

She tears her eyes away from them and immediately regrets it.

On the floor is a mix of Steve’s clothes and Eddie’s, that’s not it though. Sitting directly next to bed is ripped condom packaging and by the trash bin is a poor attempt at throwing away a used condom.

It brings her attention back to the bed, in the short glance away, Steve has moved in his sleep. Instead of facing away; he’s now facing Eddie and nearly on top of the other. She tenses up as Eddie tightens his arms around Steve, then she pulls the door shut before moving quickly down the stairs.

Without acknowledging the two on the couch she makes it to the door, just as she pulls it open the door she’s stopped.

“They’re asleep still? We could tell Steve you stopped by” she can just hear smugness coming from Dustin and Max sniggering.

Shaking her head, she refuses to look back at them, “no, no, it’s fine. Have uh, have a good day!”

“It doesn’t make sense! I, I thought- he” Nancy mumbles to herself, trying to collect her thoughts. She didn’t even bother moving yet, still sitting inside her car mumbling and trying to figure this out.

She could’ve sworn Steve was flirting with her, she knows she was a little during the fight. It felt natural and right. Even though it was wrong, very wrong. But- it was potentially the end of the world, they could’ve died! Everyone involved would understand her lapse of judgment.

Steve had told her, admitted his dream with her in it.

Him and Eddie? Steve likes boys? Since when? Was- was it a lie then? Was she being led on? Maybe even being used?

She’s so in her head, she doesn’t notice anyone walk up and only realizes when her whole body jolts at the knocking on her window. Shaking her head and reaching for her glove box, looking over her eyes widen at Steve standing there.

He’s wearing sweatpants with only a jacket over his bare chest, he looks worried, confused and most importantly; scared.

Taking a breath, she rolls her window down before looking at him, “Steve, hi.”

“Nancy, what are you doing here?”

Frowning, she looks away from him and startles at seeing Eddie standing there by the door also looking scared. Her eyes must be wide, because Steve clears his throat and she immediately looks back at him. “I- I”

Steve sighs, dropping his arms to run a hand over his face and hair, looking away from her, “Nancy, what you saw- you can’t tell anyone. Okay? Please. I don’t understand why you’re here right now and I really don’t want to know rig-” he shakes his head, “just, please don’t tell anyone”

She opens her mouth, but the words get caught. Steve’s look is haunted, even more afraid then a few months ago. Closing her mouth, taking another look at Eddie by the door before focusing her attention back on Steve.

“I won’t. I promise, Steve. I won’t tell anyone, just- maybe we can talk sometime? All of us?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, she can tell by his eyes and how he glances behind him, before looking at her again. “I’ll have to talk with Eddie first, but, uh yeah sure.”

Steve gives a weak smile at her that she tries to match, despite her racing thoughts. He steps away from the car and she starts it, nodding her head before driving away. She watches in her rear view mirror as Steve walks over to Eddie and only squeezes his arm before leading him inside.

Imagines that once inside, Steve pulls Eddie close and holds him tight.

Three Days Later

It wasn’t avoiding them, she really wasn’t. She had to collect her thoughts, really figure out what she absolutely wanted in life now.

Which, she still doesn’t know, at least relationship wise.

Thinking back on the last few years and how they’re finally no longer fighting for their lives and the world, she can go for her dream of becoming a journalist. Which is exactly what she realizes, two days into her thinking, that’s what she actually wants in life. Not a relationship with Steve. Not even a relationship with Jonathan at this point, she doesn’t need that right now.

By the third day, she realizes how selfish she was acting and how much she actually scared, maybe even hurt Steve and Eddie.

That’s what brings her back to Steve’s front door with an apology and some cookies. There’s no bikes or skateboards this time around, just Eddie’s van and it’s not first thing in the morning.

Knocking on the door is quick and as she wants gets her composure and tries to relax. It’s not long before the door opens, Steve standing on the other side and her mind flashes back to the night in 83. Shaking her head to get rid of it, smiling she raises her hands up with the plate.

“I bought cookies”

Steve smiles a little and let’s her in, “you didn’t have to, Robs and I had a baking spree last night”

“Yeah and it’s all delicious!” Eddie shouts out, from somewhere.

It does some a little like a bakery in here, she notices. Placing the plate on the table before looking at Steve, “no, my mom insisted I bring them.”

Steve just nods as he closes the door, “It’s fine, we love cookies and if we don’t finish them, Eddie’s friends and Robs is coming over later anyway”

He leads her towards the kitchen and she’s not surprised to find Eddie at the table with paints and figurines, “Elder Wheeler, good afternoon on this fine day”

A laugh bubbles out of her, as she takes a seat across from him and she watches Steve take the seat right next to Eddie. Eddie looks towards him and she gets to see a silent conversation pass between the two, it’s not like the ones she’d see between Steve and Robin or even the ones she’d have with Jonathan.

It ends a second later when Steve looks towards her with a tight smile, “Nancy, I’m sor-”

“No!” She’s a little loud but it makes his mouth snap shut and Eddie to widen his eyes, “sorry, but you don’t have to apologize to me. If anyone should, it’s me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you guys or to make you uncomfortable. I, I wasn’t thinking straight”

Eddie snorts, “couldn’t imagine how to do that”

It makes both her and Steve break into a smile, she’s quicker at sobering up though, sits straighter and clears her throat before settling her eyes on Steve, “I was being selfish, that’s why I came over the other day. Your words were in my head and I thought, maybe they were telling me that we could have a second chance. But I realized, I don’t want it anymore.”

Steve looks confused, “my words? Wha- my old dream? That thing?”

She nods, “yeah and I didn’t think things through, came here and found you both in bed and, scared you”

“You did” Eddie nods, dropping a hand to Steve’s, “When Dustin and Max mentioned you were in the house and looking for Steve, it really did scare us”

“I know, and I’m truly sorry for doing that to you both.” She looks away from them and sees how tightly Eddie has Steve’s hand in his, “You’re-”

“Relationship,” Steve interrupts her, “our relationship”

She nods, “it’s yours and I shouldn’t have even thought of you the way I was.”

They both nod and it’s quiet for a moment.

“Can, can I ask you?” She doesn’t know how to approach this, this isn’t something she does a lot. This is completely different from anything she’s done before, “You don’t have to tell me anything”

The couple share another long look before looking back at her, “I’m gay, I only like boys.”

“I like both. I especially like Eddie” Steve’s smile is bright and aimed completely at Eddie, “before you ask, we’ve been dating since we got out of the hospital.”

It surprises her, it’s been months.

“Yeah, I was surprised too. Thought Stevie boy was still high off the pain meds, turns out he was completely serious” Eddie laughs, “We haven’t told many people, gotta be careful with this”

She’s not surprised by that and nods, “I understand, I’m just a little confused- if you liked him and why give me hope? Why tell me that dream of yours”

“Nance, we were in the middle of a war,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand before letting go and reaching over to take her hand, “I wasn’t lying, I did dream of having a future with you. I thought we weren’t going to come out of it, didn’t think I’d have even a chance of growing up. That dream was from a little lonely boy who loved you with everything, I thought you should know that before something happened to us. But that wasn’t my only dream, and I know that’s not the kind of life you’d want, right?”

Her eyes are watering and nods, “You’re right, it was nice though”

It makes all of them laugh and Nancy feels like she knows him better, “I really am sorry, not just for scaring you. But for what I did back then”

“I’m sorry too”

There’s tears falling from both of them and she can see Eddie wiping away his own eyes.

A laugh bubbles up out of her, then Steve and lastly Eddie. It’s tears and laughter between them now.

~

Okay, look I’ll be completely serious right now. This wasn’t supposed to be this long, honestly. That’s why it ends the way it does, because it could go on even more. But I’d be repeating myself I think. Also, all of this just for the image of Nancy finding out about Steddie in like the most awkward way possible. (Without it being completely explicit 🤣)

Hope it reads okay, I had some help from the discord babes, @i-less-than-three-you & @strangersteddierthings! Love you both lovelies 💜

Information that isn’t in the fic: Robin and Wayne are the first ones to know about Steddie. Dustin, Max & the CC boys are the only other ones that know (besides Nancy) everyone else doesn’t. Also this takes place over a span of a few months. The very first part is directly after vecna (max isn’t hurt) and jumps to the ���two days later” after that. But Jonathan and Nancy break up is about two months later.

TAGLIST! (If you want to be added, let me know!)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @grimmfitzz

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 3

Part 2

The comfort is here! This is just a morsel of the Nancy chapter, which means even MORE comfort with a pinch of angst.

~~~

It took a few weeks after Max and Lucas’s surprise visit for Eddie to work up enough courage to fly to Boston to knock on his sister's door-- technically sister from another mister, but he doesn't think that matters much.

Nancy's always believed in him, encouraged him to follow his passions no matter where it took him. Because even if you try and fail, Eddie, then at least you tried, and she’d always be there to catch him. In this case, maybe his passions took him a little too far.

It’s been almost eight months since they’ve talked, and he’s worried she won’t be there this time. Nancy is the fiercest person he knows, ready to stand up for what’s right regardless of the consequences. Hell, it’s what made her such a successful journalist. 

Which is why he’s worried he’ll buckle under the same scrutiny. This isn't a little mistake she can lecture away. Eddie has well and truly fucked up. If he could barely get through conversations with Robin and Max and Lucas, he has no idea how to navigate a conversation with Nancy Wheeler when she wants answers.

Before he can chicken out, the door’s ripped open by the woman herself. She’s different than he remembers. Her hair’s grown out, long and straight without her signature perm. The light pink pajama pants and matching pink slippers soften her edges. She looks good, aside from the bloodshot eyes.

This counts the fourth time Eddie’s ever seen Nancy cry: her freshman year when their cat died, a particularly nasty blow out between her and Mike before she moved for college, and two years ago when Jonathan finally proposed– happy tears, thankfully.

Now she’s standing here, staring at him through red-rimmed eyes and drowning in an oversized Corroded Coffin crewneck. He’s absolutely gutted at the sight. Only the fourth time she’s ever cried, and it’s his fault.

Another hard reminder of his many mistakes.

“Nance, please, can we talk?” He doesn’t know what to say that’ll fix it, but he has to try, she’s too important not to.

She suddenly throws herself at him, practically choking him with the grip of her arms around his neck, and for a moment he thinks she’s about to fight him. But her hand’s cradling the back of his head, and her other’s fisted in the back of his jacket. 

Nancy clings to him and shoves her nose into the crook of his neck. He wraps her up in a fierce hug in return, holding her as she shakes against him.

“Edward James Munson,” she says, forcing the words out around the tears, “I am so, so fucking mad at you.” Nancy lets go of his shirt just to emphasize her point by socking him in the shoulder. Only to grab at him again, like he’ll disappear if she lets go.

“I know, Nancy. I’m sorry.”

She coughs, and Eddie can feel where her tears have soaked his hair through, sticking it uncomfortably to his neck. “I missed you so much.”

He lets out a ragged sigh of relief. She still loves him, even after everything he’s done. Nancy Wheeler is too good for him– the whole world, really– but especially him. He doesn’t deserve someone like her, a sister like her, but he’s also selfish. So he holds onto her tighter, hoping that when he lets go she doesn’t change her mind

She leans out of his grasp to look him in the eye. He doesn’t know what she finds, but Nancy eyes are soft around the edges, filled with love, and she shoves his shoulder again. Not hard though, so she laughs when he dramatically falls backwards clutching his afflicted arm to his chest. He moans and groans, bottom lip jutted out in a firm pout as he bats his eyes at her, waiting for an apology.

“You’re such an asshole,” she says, but she’s smiling at him now and holding out her hand to help him up. He takes it, of course he does. Eddie relaxes, knowing that even though it's his fault she's cried, Nancy Wheeler will always be there to catch him whem he falls- metaphorically at least.

~~~

Part 4

[mister-anomaly]

my magnum opus ... my shining star .. my piece that i spent like almost a month on because my motivation for drawing 6 people in one piece was NONE EXISTENT BHDSHJDJHBS <3

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

supernatural fruity four au where whenever they have occasion to tell people they're supernatural they go like 'okay one of us is a vampire, one's a fairy, one's a witch, and one's a werewolf. guess which is which' because everyone literally always guesses that eddie's the vampire, nancys the fairy, robins the witch, and steve's the werewolf, and they think it's fucking hilarious how literally no one ever clocks a single one of them correctly

in actuality, nancys the vampire, steve's the fairy, eddie's the witch, and robins the werewolf

[artiststarme]

Staying Alive, Staying Alive

I was feeling a little angsty today and now here we are. I hope you guys like this and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

Title brought to you by @lumoschild!

~*~*~*~

Steve’s stomach dropped when he heard Dustin’s screaming from the trailer park. He and the girls were only about halfway back in their trek when they started hearing his cries which caused Steve to sprint in his direction. Why was Dustin screaming and where was Eddie? They were supposed to be out of danger. They were the goddamn decoys and Steve told them not to be heroes! 

The sight he stumbled on when he broke through the barrier of the trees would forever haunt him. Just past the rows of trailer homes, Dustin was knelt on bloodied knees, sobbing, with an unmoving Eddie situated half on his lap. The two of them were sitting in a pond of blood that was growing ever larger. Steve had never seen Munson so still, he was always flamboyant and larger than life in everything he did. His face, usually so expressive and full of life, had never been so pale either, only made worse with the sluggishly bleeding wounds still leaking from his neck and torso. 

“Dustin!” Steve screamed for him as he ran closer and fell to his knees beside him in a careless slump. “What happened? When’d he stop breathing?”

“I-I don’t know, just before you got here, I guess. He-he saved me. He didn’t run away this time, Steve.” He grabbed onto Eddie’s shoulders even stronger in a desperate hug while tears ran down his cheeks.

“Okay, I know he didn’t. Munson’s a strong guy and he still has fight left. I need you to put him down so I can bring him back, okay?” Steve muttered soothingly. If Eddie had just lost his pulse a few minutes ago, there was still a chance that he could get his heart beating again.

“What? Steve-”

“Put him down, Dustin!” Steve would feel bad for yelling at him later but he had a very limited window for CPR to work and he didn’t have time for any more niceties. 

Dustin flinched back as if struck and let go of Eddie abruptly. His face screwed up in a vicious sob when Steve started applying forceful compressions to his friend’s chest. “Steve, you’re hurting him!”

“He can’t feel pain if he’s dead, Dustin! If this works, he can complain about it later.” Steve struck Eddie’s chest over and over again to the beat of Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees like he was taught to as a swim instructor. He never could’ve imagined then that this is how he’d be using his skills. 

Both Dustin and Steve winced when they heard Eddie’s ribs crack but Steve didn’t stop applying his full body weight into every push. Nancy and Robin showed up at some point between Steve giving compressions and breathing into Eddie’s mouth but he paid them no mind. In fact, he didn’t pay anything any mind until Eddie gasped for air on his own. 

“Eddie!” Dustin yelled and tried to scramble away from Nancy’s arms that restrained him. 

“Ouch,” Eddie whispered before his eyes slid shut once more.

“No, no, no. Munson, wake up. Keep your eyes open. We have to get out of here, c’mon. Robin, help me pick him up,” Steve ordered. She quickly stepped forward and helped situate Eddie bridal-style in his arms. With a few well-placed cloths to act as bandages, she patted Steve’s shoulder and he bolted towards the gate in the Munson trailer. The entire Upside Down started shaking and the ground started to fracture in a horrific version of  ‘the-floor-is-lava’ game. 

But Steve could only focus on holding pressure against a particularly deep wound on Eddie’s side and the soft breaths fanning his neck. One step in front of the other, he sprinted as fast as he could without jostling the injured man in his arms too much. His efforts proved fruitless if the muffled moans of pain into his ear indicated anything. 

When he got to the trailer, Robin was right behind him. She threw the door open and pushed the small kitchen table underneath the quaking gate and threw herself through first, ungraceful and uncoordinated as it was, in order to catch Eddie when Steve pushed him through the portal. Which she did. By falling with him and kneeing him in the spine. Seeing them mostly safe, Steve carefully guided Dustin onto the table and threw the gate with his injured leg and then offered a hand to Nancy and gave her a gentle push. 

As the gate started to close, he hardly had enough time to jump through the portal into the Rightside Up himself. He could feel the sizzling heat on his sides and burning on the outer parts of his leg until his back met a soft surface on the ground. He made it. 

They didn’t have time to celebrate though because Dustin was crying in pain about his leg, Robin was rubbing her side in discomfort, and Eddie was still groaning and bleeding out onto his own stained mattress. Steve’s sides were screaming but he didn’t have time to acknowledge his own wounds until he was sure his friends would survive. 

“Alright Nancy, where’s your car? We have to get to the hospital.” Steve asked her, easily falling into the position of leader once more.

“Um, it's right outside.” With a peek out the trailer’s window, Steve could definitely see that it was not. 

“No it isn’t. Where’d you park it?” 

“I swear,” Nancy promised. “I parked it right in front of the door. We’ll just have to call for an ambulance.”

Steve shook his head and ran a stressed hand through his hair. Eddie didn’t have time for an ambulance. With the earthquakes and the preexisting stigma around the people that lived at Forest Hills, an ambulance would take up to thirty minutes and he didn’t have that. Fuck, what were they going to do?!

He sent another glance out the window to see a small sedan parked outside the neighboring trailer. Bullseye. 

“Okay, new plan. Eddie and I are going to hotwire that car and drive to the hospital. You guys are going to call an ambulance and meet us there.” He nodded to himself and went to pick up a blurry-eyed Eddie. 

“Steve, we should stick together. It’s not smart to go off on our own,” Nancy expressed condescendingly. 

“Well, no one’s ever mistaken me for being smart so I guess that’s par for the course. We’ll see you at the hospital.” Then they were off. Steve was once again carrying Eddie as gently as he could but this time Eddie’s eyes were open and searching. 

“Who knew that Steve Harrington would be so adamant on keeping me alive?” He muttered.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Munson.”

“I’m bleeding all over you, surely we’re on a first name basis now. Right Steve?” His tone was pretty challenging for a guy that was dead less than five minutes ago. 

“You can call me whatever you want, Eddie. Just keep your eyes open.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best. What’re you planning on doing? Lisa always leaves her car locked,” he said as soon as he saw the direction Steve was walking in.  

Steve didn’t dignify his question with a response. He just grabbed the ax from its position secured on his back and swung the dull edge towards the driver’s side window, shattering it instantly. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie murmured in amazement. Unknowingly to Steve, that was the exact moment that Eddie fell in love with him. He had risked his life to save him in the Upside Down and carried him bridal-style out of hell. Now he was committing crimes to keep him alive and looking hot while doing it. Eddie’s heart didn’t stand a chance. 

Steve gently leaned Eddie against the car while he worked to get the driver’s side door open and then picked him up again to gently settle him in across the backseats. His movements caused Eddie to whimper in pain but they were so close, they couldn’t stop now. 

“Okay Munson, focus. How do I hotwire this car?” Steve looked back at him and saw the seats quickly staining red. “Shit Eddie! Put pressure right there, we have to slow the bleeding. C’mon, how do I do this?

Eddie tried to press his bandana into his worst wound as he gave Steve directions. “Pull off the steering column and grab the wires. Did you get my pliers? You’ll need those to strip the coating.”

“Yep. Okay, I got the cover off and I see the wires. What next?”

“There-there should be… two wires. One red and one black. You have to s-strip them and tap them together until the ignition starts…” 

His voice started to taper off towards the end of his explanation and he could hardly keep his eyes open anymore. Steve pulled the wires from the steering column and stripped them just as Eddie had in the RV. When he looked into the backseat, he did a double take. Eddie’s skin was even paler and clammier than it had been before. Most worryingly though, his eyes were glazed and his breathing was labored. Steve reached an arm back to shake at his shoulder. 

“Don’t fucking die, Eddie! I didn’t carry you out of the goddamn Upside Down just for you to die in some stranger’s backseat.” He hissed in angered panic. 

“Ooo kinky.” Eddie mumbled through chapped lips. 

“Not kinky, dying is not kinky! Wake up, Eddie!” 

Just then, the engine turned over and the ignition started. “Yes, yes! Eddie, hold on. I got the car to start. C’mon man, five minutes to the hospital. You’ve got this.”

“Okay…” Eddie whispered. Steve could hardly breathe as he sped down the roads and broke every traffic law. He didn’t care about the consequences of his actions as long as Eddie lived. He didn’t care about speeding tickets or jail time, he just needed his new friend to survive. 

“Eddie, you doing okay?”

“I wouldn’t… characterize this as- as being… okay,” he answered between labored breaths. 

“You’re doing great, man,” Steve told him. He looked back at him in the rearview and saw Eddie’s eyes looking back at him. 

“Thanks for doing this, Stevie. You didn’t have to. You-you could’ve left me there-”

“Shut up, man. I wasn’t going to leave you after you risked your life to help us. You’re one of us now whether you like it or not.” Steve told him. He wasn’t going to stand for any self-deprecating comments after he’d almost died (did die for a few minutes) to save Dustin. 

Eddie hummed before the car lapsed into silence for the next minute or so, only broken by the sounds of Eddie wheezing for air and Steve’s fingers shaking against the steering wheel. When they arrived at the hospital, Steve pulled right in front of the emergency room and screamed for help. Nurses, doctors, and assistants came rushing out to help him and they placed Eddie on the gurney. 

His lips were red with blood and his face was ashen without it. But when Steve looked at him, he smiled wide. “I’ll see you later, Big Boy.”

Steve couldn’t even threaten the hospital staff to treat him well or tell them to ignore the rumors on TV (although he would find out later that Nancy and Robin did that well enough on their own). As soon as Eddie was wheeled out of sight, Steve collapsed from his own injuries. 

Just a few days later, Steve woke up from sedation to find himself in a hospital bed with Eddie as a roommate. And if his heartbeat sped up on the monitor when Eddie smiled at him, well, that wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs.

Permanent tag list:@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild

[wynnyfryd]

ghostyyyyyyyyy knocking it out of the fucking park with this one omfg

platonic soulmates eddie and nancy getting high and steve being Responsible; ty for the help @spectrum-spectre and @username-i-guess <3

---

The door swings open a few seconds after Steve knocks hard. (Probably a little too hard given the time of night, but someone down the road from Eddie’s trailer is playing music that Steve would be able to sing along to if he knew the words, so he didn’t worry about it.)

Nancy’s hair is frizzy, and her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glassy and red. A smile is teasing at her lips. Steve’s stomach twists as he looks at her. She’s wearing a Slayer t-shirt, wrinkled and too big for her, falling to her knees and hiding whether or not she’s wearing shorts underneath.

“What the hell’s going on?” Steve asks sharply. It’s cold out, and it’s late, and the last thing he was expecting while staring at the ceiling was to hear Nancy’s voice over the phone, sluggishly telling him to come over to Eddie’s as soon as possible. (And if Nancy is telling him something so pressing, of course he’s going to listen.) But as she grins up at him, flushed and sleepy-looking, he wonders why the fuck she’d invite him over for this. Which is something he really never would have seen coming. Nancy and Eddie.

“We’re high,” she says, and he blinks.

“You’re…”

“He’s higher than me,” she says, and Steve’s never heard her voice like this, mumbly and slow and almost childish. Her lashes flutter as she blinks, gesturing with a lazy hand. “But ‘m also high. But you’re not.”

Confusion tangles with frustration in Steve’s chest, and she can see it on his face as he looks her up and down again, his eyes skimming deftly over her bare legs and Eddie’s fucking t-shirt and her tangled, frizzy hair.

“We didn’t fuck, Steve,” she says too loudly, looking at him like he’s being ridiculous, and he splutters out, “You can’t— You can’t blame me for thinking that!”

“Oh my god,” she says, exasperated, and he huffs.

“Why am I here? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Look,” she says, looking at the ground, holding a hand up. “I made brownies. We had one each, and then we shared two blunts, and then Eddie got hungry and forgot there’s pot in the brownies. And now he’s too high.”

“You made… pot brownies,” he says slowly, his mind reeling. Her expression changes, shifting into a terrifying combination of annoyance and frustration.

“Focus, Steve,” she says loudly. “He’s too high. I’m too high to help him.”

“Why’d you call me?”

“You’re, like— the mom!” she says, tossing a hand in his direction, gesturing aimlessly.

“Wha— Why?”

“You were a lifeguard.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“What, would rather I call Mike?” she asks, throwing a hand again.

“Why are you shit-talking your little brother?”

“Everyone else does.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t, he’s your brother.”

“Steve,” she almost shouts. “You’re not focussing.”

“Oh my god,” he says, exasperated, trying to push past her. “Where is he?”

“Sofa,” she says, pushing the door open further and moving aside so he can come in. “I can’t move him, he’s too heavy.”

Steve steps inside. The smell of weed hits him hard, and he holds back another Oh my god.

Eddie is laying on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling blankly, his eyes glazed over and unblinking. One of his arms is up against the back of the sofa and the other is hanging down, his fingertips brushing the ground.

“Eds,” Steve says, crouching by the sofa and nudging his shoulder. “You in there?”

Eddie stares at the ceiling, silent for a moment before, “…Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“…Where are you?” Eddie asks lightly, his eyes searching the ceiling like he’s going to find Steve on it.

“Turn your head,” Steve says, begrudgingly amused as Eddie turns his head slowly to face the back of the sofa. “Other way, Eddie.”

Eddie’s bloodshot eyes widen when they find Steve, and Steve suppresses a smile as Eddie breathes, “Wow.”

“How you feel?” Steve asks softly.

“Goo-o-o-od,” Eddie slurs, grinning deliriously. “Nancy’s a baker.”

“Is she,” Steve says dryly.

“Mm. Nancy baker. Good ass baker. I’m a baker. I’m baked. Steve, I’m baked.” He giggles, his whole face lighting up, eyes squeezing shut as his cheeks squish up, the lines in his skin deepening beautifully.

Nancy is giggling behind Steve, and without turning to look at her, he calls, “Nancy, don’t you touch those brownies.”

There’s a moment of silence, except for Eddie’s giggling, and then she huffs and there’s a clatter of a knife on the counter.

“Mom,” she calls back, and he rolls his eyes.

“Steve,” Eddie stage-whispers. “Do you wanna bake?”

Steve blinks at him.

“No, Eddie,” he says calmly. “No, I don’t.”

“But it’s so fun-n-n…”

“I know, Eds, but someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“‘S nice of you, Stevie.”

“Eddie!” Nancy calls from the kitchen, and Eddie beams at the sound of her voice, his eyes closing as he lifts his chin and says her name back. “Steve thought we fucked.”

“Nancy,” Steve snaps, looking at her with wide eyes as Eddie gasps dramatically.

“I would never,” Eddie says loudly. “Nancy Baker is a beautiful woman, but she is not my type, ‘m afraid.”

“Nancy Baker,” Steve repeats under his breath, turning back to Eddie as Nancy laughs in a way Steve’s never heard her laugh, open and loud and childish.

“Why?” Nancy says, her voice teasing. “Why am I not your type, Eds?”

“You be quiet,” he says to the ceiling, closing his eyes, his face red.

“Tell him!”

“No.”

“You can tell him!”

“I’m not gonna,” Eddie sings loudly.

Steve huffs.

“Nance, leave him alone,” he says. “Eddie, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

“Eddie,” Nancy sings back, ignoring Steve. “Tell him!”

“I am not telling Steve Harrington I’m gay, Nancy.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and Nancy claps a hand over her mouth.

“You said it,” she says gleefully after a moment as Steve stares at Eddie, his stomach fluttering, because Eddie’s gay. Because he didn’t want to tell Steve.

“I didn’t tell Steve, I told you.”

“Steve is in the room, you dumbass.”

A few seconds pass before Eddie’s eyes widen at the ceiling, and his face flushes darker, and he looks at Steve, his eyes shining with a fear that Steve fucking hates.

“It’s okay,” Steve says quickly even though he’s still reeling. “It’s cool, Eddie, I don’t— I don’t have a problem with it.”

Eddie blinks at him.

“It’s okay,” Steve says again, nodding. “‘S fine.”

“I told you,” Nancy says from the kitchen.

Eddie rolls onto his side, hiding his face with his hair, groaning, and Steve takes a moment, lowering his head to the sofa cushion and exhaling shakily. He can feel Nancy watching him, but he can’t even bring himself to care.

“Okay,” he says after taking another deep breath. “Bedtime, Eds, come on.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Come on, Wayne’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Steve says. “He doesn’t wanna sleep in your bed.”

“…You know Wayne’s schedule?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Of course.”

Eddie is quiet, still hiding from Steve.

“Eddie, get up."

“Can’t move,” Eddie mumbles into the sofa.

Steve sighs, rubbing his cheek as Nancy snickers.

“Come on,” he says, standing and wincing as his knees pop, tugging at Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie just groans loudly, and Steve sighs again. “I’m gonna help you, Eds, c’mere.”

He leans down and picks up Eddie’s arm, pulling him up so he’s standing, and he’s heavy on Steve as Steve wraps an arm around his waist. He’s soft.

Steve stumbles down the hall with Eddie, whose head falls forward as he groans, his hair hiding his face, and Steve calls to Nancy to not touch the brownies. He smiles when he hears her blow a raspberry at him.

“Oh no,” Eddie says when they sway together, and Steve stops before the doorway of his bedroom.

“You feel sick?”

Eddie stares wide-eyed at the floor, unblinking, unmoving.

“Eds?”

Eddie hums quietly, standing still before his head turns in Steve’s direction slowly, his eyes following behind after a moment.

“You gonna be sick?” Steve asks when he doesn’t say anything.

“…No.”

“You okay?”

Eddie exhales, his glassy eyes skimming over Steve’s face.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Bed,” Steve says. “Come on.”

“‘M coming…” Eddie mumbles, and then he giggles. “Coming.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, his cheeks flushing.

He gets Eddie into his room and into bed, carefully lowering him so he doesn’t flop, and Eddie writhes, pushing his face into his pillow. The room is dark, lit up by the hall, and Steve flicks on a lamp.

“Where’s Nancy?” Eddie says, his voice muffled by his pillow. “Nancy. ‘S a pretty name. Nancy Wheeler Baker. Nancy. N’ncy…”

Steve gets up to call Nancy’s name down the hall, and she appears after a moment, after flicking off the lights in the living room.

She climbs onto the bed next to Eddie as Steve watches. Eddie wraps an arm around Nancy’s waist, hugging her and grinning as she looks down at him, poking his cheek.

“Edward…”

“Nancelot,” he slurs, and Steve scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty lady.”

“You are so high,” she says, emphasising every word with a poke to the tip of Eddie’s nose.

“You make good brownies,” he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut as she keeps poking his nose. “Chef Nancelot.”

“It was a box mix,” Nancy giggles, leaning over his head as he snorts.

“But I could taste your lo-o-o-ove…”

She snorts, snickering and running her hand over his face.

“Are you guys set?” Steve asks, still watching from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. “Am I free?”

“Don’t go,” Nancy says, whining, reaching out and making grabby hands at him as Eddie groans. “Sleepover.”

He stares for a moment, hesitating, and then Eddie says his name, dragging it out dramatically, desperately.

“Stevie-e-e-e…”

Steve sighs, glancing at the dark window, and he gives in, kicking his shoes off as Nancy cheers, clapping happily. He climbs onto Eddie’s bed on his other side.

They’re all too close, Eddie laying partially on top of Nancy’s legs, and Steve leans against the wall next to Nancy, their shoulders almost touching.

Eddie rolls over, against Steve’s legs, and Steve looks at him. His eyes are closed, his lips curved into a happy smile, and Steve can’t help but reach down to the top of his head that’s at Steve’s waist. His hair is messy, tangled, and Steve pushes his fingers into it. Eddie hums.

“Didn’t know you guys were so close,” he says softly to Nancy.

“‘S my best friend,” she says lightly. “You know… your whole thing with Robin?”

“Platonic with a capital P,” Steve says softly.

“Mhmm. ‘S Eddie and me.”

“Soulmates?” Steve says softly. Nancy nods, smiling. “Never would’ve thought.”

She giggles quietly, scrunching her nose.

“Valedictorian and super-super senior.”

“Mhmm.”

“Eddie Munson,” she sings softly, reaching to play with the end of one of Eddie’s curls. Eddie is still smiling, head tilted up into Steve’s hand, and Steve can’t tell if he’s asleep or not.

“Eddie Munson,” Steve repeats like he’s agreeing.

“Never would’ve thought,” Nancy says quietly, almost pointedly, giving Steve a look.

“Thought what?”

Her gaze lowers to his hand in Eddie’s hair, eyebrows raised, and she reaches out to poke the back of it. (Nancy pokes a lot when she’s high, apparently.)

“I’m just…” Steve trails off, unable to find an excuse, and his cheeks flush.

“‘S cool,” she says lightly.

They’re quiet.

Steve listens to Eddie breathe, and as he scratches at his scalp gently, he thinks he doesn’t mind that Nancy called him as much as he did when he arrived.

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly after a while, after shifting and slumping against the wall. She’s resting her arm across Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers.

“…You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?”

He blinks, his eyes looking across the room at the mess of posters that are covering Eddie’s wall.

“Oh,” he says.

“You, like…” She sighs heavily. “You’re not… the same. But you keep all that guilt inside you. And you… act like you’re this whole new person, this… this nice guy. But you’re still a bully.”

His chest clenches, and he looks at her, his eyes burning.

“Because you’re so mean to yourself,” she adds after a moment. “I think… there’s a little part of King Steve still inside you, you… beat the shit out of him every day.” She’s mumbling, talking so softly that it’s almost like she’s talking to herself.

“But if you’re— if you’re gonna be Steve Steve, our Steve, the— the Steve that’s best friends with a dorky lesbian and a fourteen-year-old nerd, you gotta… forgive yourself. Let King Steve go.”

Steve blinks tears back, swallowing thickly, exhaling shakily, because she’s right. King Steve lives inside him, like he’s hiding in his ribcage, and Steve won’t leave him alone. He torments him, bullies him. Even though King Steve is just a kid, just a scared, lonely kid without a clue about what or who he is. Even though Steve knows King Steve was pretending the whole time. Lying. Wearing a false crown.

“…You know about Robin?” he asks weakly, his voice wobbly, and Nancy smiles a little bit.

“I know well.”

He looks over at her, and she looks up at him, seeing the confusion in his watery eyes.

“Like recognizes like,” she says softly.

Oh.

His lips twitch into a smile, and she grins.

“Who would’ve thought?” Steve murmurs.

Nancy smiles so brightly that her eyes squeeze shut, and she leans so her head is resting on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve tilts his head to rest on hers.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you like I was supposed to,” Nancy says after a while, her voice soft.

“You weren’t supposed to love me, Nance,” Steve says, closing his eyes. “You can’t… You can’t make yourself love someone just because you think you have to. It’s okay.”

“I wanted to,” she whispers.

“It’s okay,” he says again.

She’s quiet again, and he thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks again.

“I do love you,” she says quietly. “Just… platonically.”

“With a capital P,” Steve murmurs, and he can practically sense her smile.

“Yeah.”

“‘S cool, Nance,” he says softly. “I love you too.”

He drifts off as she falls asleep, feeling her head become heavier on his shoulder, and at some point they both shift in discomfort on the wall, sitting up straight and groaning quietly. They glance at each other in the dark lighting of the room, and Nancy shifts to lie down on the bed next to Eddie, wrapping her arm around him and sighing. Steve follows, moving slowly so Eddie can shift with him, still laying on top of him on the small mattress.

Steve falls asleep.

He wakes up to Eddie climbing on top of him, and he winces, cracking his eyes open to squint in the bright sunlight that’s shining through the room. Eddie’s legs wrap around his hips and he buries his face in Steve’s neck as he sighs, and Nancy shifts closer to Steve in her sleep.

Steve sets a hand across Eddie’s back, holding him, and Nancy finds Steve’s other arm before he can wrap it around Eddie, hugging it to herself and nuzzling into his shoulder. Steve smiles.

Eddie rubs his face into Steve’s neck again, taking a deep breath, and then he lifts his head, his body tightening and trembling for a moment.

He’s squinting when he looks down at Steve, brows furrowed adorably. He blinks blankly at Steve, whose smile widens.

“You still high?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie stares for a moment before his lips curve into a smile, and he shrugs.

“‘M on top of Steve Harrington in my bed,” he says, his voice rough. “Might be.”

Steve laughs lightly, closing his eyes. Eddie shifts to touch his face, poking his cheek and tracing the bridge of his nose and outlining his lips.

“Feels real,” Eddie murmurs.

“‘M real, Eds.”

“‘M gonna go back to sleep,” Eddie mumbles, sticking his face back in Steve’s neck. His breath is warm.

“Okay.”

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.

It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.

Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?

They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.

The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.

Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.

— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks

��Yeah”

“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”

Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —

Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.

After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.

Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.

He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.

Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.

Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.

What the fuck?

[steddie-island]

Risky Business

Written for @steddie-week day 2 | Prompt: Hands Rating: M | WC: 2,027 | Tags: Pre-Steddie, season 2, shotgunning, dry humping, coming in pants, cheating (if you squint) Find full list of tags on ao3 | Divider credit

“Watch it, Harrington!”

Steve didn't even turn around to see who was yelling at him. He needed to get the fuck out of there.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

The words reverberated in his head, echoed in the empty hollow of his chest where his heart used to be.

"Like we're in love?"

It was too fucking much. There were monsters, and Barb was dead, and Nancy wasn't in love with him, and—

“Harrington!”

“What!” Steve spun around and came face to face with one Eddie Munson. He definitely didn't need this shit right now, either, whatever Eddie was trying to do.

“Jesus, who pissed in your cheerios?” Eddie held his hand out, where Steve's keyring dangled from one finger. “I was giving these back, but if that's how it's gonna be.”

Steve swiped for them, but Eddie already had them folded back into the palm of his hand and was walking towards the house again.

“Just— hand them over.” Steve tried to make another grab for them, but Eddie was too fast, the shithead. “Munson, I'm in a really bad goddamn mood, okay?”

Eddie lifted his free hand to his head, rubbed at the back of his neck. “How much have you had to drink?”

Steve blinked at him. “I'm fine to drive.”

“That's not an answer, big boy, and I'm afraid it would be against the Munson code to let you do something stupid like that.” Steve swiped for his keys again, but then Eddie was turning, rearing his arm back— and Steve watched as his keys went flying.

“What the fuck !” Steve wanted to shove him, wanted to wipe the stupid smile right off of his stupid fucking face.

“I'll help you find them later,” Eddie said. “C'mon, man. You're clearly not in any shape to drive. Let me take you home.”

Steve wanted to say no. He wanted to kick and scream and argue but how the fuck else was he supposed to get home now? Just the thought of sticking around long enough to see Jonathan pour Nancy into his car made his stomach twist.

He could walk, but he was so tired . It washed over him all at once, and Steve's entire body sort of slumped. “Fine. You're paying if we don't find them, though.”

Eddie looked surprised, like he hadn't expected Steve to give in so fast. Still he bowed, gestured ahead of them. “Right this way, sir.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Steve shook his head, bringing his cheek to rest against the window. “Not really.”

”Okay.” Eddie reached over and turned the radio on. The music was heavier than what Steve usually listened to, but that actually helped get him out of his head. There was going to be a breakdown, and a big one, but he needed it to not happen here, in Eddie Munson's van.

Eddie fidgeted. Steve could tell he wanted to talk, to say somthing, anything , to get rid of the silence between them.

“Does... Wheeler have a way to get home?”

Steve wished Eddie would've kept his big mouth shut.

“She's fine,” he said flatly. Emotionless. He couldn't think about Nancy, about bullshit, bullshit, bullshit .

“Shit— hey, I'm sorry, man.” Eddie was really fidgeting now, and— fuck.

Steve wiped away traitorous tears and cleared the lump out of his throat. “I'm fine,” he said, snappier than he meant to. It wasn't Eddie's fault he was losing his cool.

“Clearly. Totally fine,” Eddie said, nodding. He seemed to think about it, fingers drumming against his steering wheel again— did he ever sit still? Then they were turning away from Steve's house, towards the edge of town.

“C'mon, man, I'm fine, just—”

“Trust me,” Eddie said. His eyes flicked over to Steve again. “This is better than going home.“

Steve had been to Lover's Lake before, but never in the back of Eddie Munson's van. They'd parked, and Eddie had lit up a preroll. Whatever was in it, Steve wasn't feeling any pain anymore.

They were floating together, weightless in the back of the van on the pile of blankets Eddie had spread out for them. Steve's hair hung away from his face as he watched the way the night sky reflected in the water.

There were no dead girls here, no alternate universes with monsters ready to rip them to shreds.

There wasn't a bat driven through with nails that looked rusty with old monster blood rotting away in his trunk.

There were just stars, and the music pouring softly through the speakers now. And Eddie, warm and sturdy by his side, with their pinkies barely touching.

"Fuckin' love this song," Eddie said. Steve didn't recognize it, though the thrum of the guitar made his already fuzzy brain vibrate pleasantly.

"Think you've said that about every song we've listened to," Steve murmured. His tongue was heavy and thick in his mouth. He reached for the joint, giggled when his fingers didn't want to work and he nearly dropped it.

"Lemme help you." Eddie rolled over, pressed the butt of if it to Steve's lips. His fingers were dry and warm. Steve's eyes nearly crossed as he tried to watch those fingertips. He was so distracted he almost forgot to actually inhale.

"Never woulda taken King Steve for a lightweight," Eddie teased. His voice was giggly, too, as he leaned back, brought the joint to his own mouth and took a long pull.

Steve couldn't stop watching his fingers, the glint of the light on his rings as he lifted a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear.

"You still with me?" Eddie asked. He lightly bumped his foot against Steve's and gave him a teasing smile.

"Yeah, 'm with you," Steve said. He reached up to touch one of Eddie's rings without really thinking about it. "You have nice hands." His fingers were long, slender. Musician's hands, complete with callouses that Steve had the odd desire to get his lips on.

Maybe the bitten nails weren't a musician thing, just an Eddie thing, but that didn't change the fact that Steve kind of wanted to kiss those fingertips.

"Yeah? You like, big boy?" Normally Eddie wouldn't have risked flirting with the straight jock high off his ass in the back of the van but Harrington didn't feel like a threat. He waved his hand lazily and watched Steve's gaze follow along like there was a slight delay between what Eddie was doing and Steve brain processing it.

"Yeah." Steve reached up to catch Eddie's wrist, to stop him from moving his hand around. "I do." He trailed his fingertips over Eddie's palm then outlined one finger at a time.

If anyone had told Eddie that morning that he would end the day holding hands with a stoned Steve Harrington at Lover's Lake he would've laughed in their face and asked if they needed a ride to the hospital. Here he was, though, with the ex king threading their fingers together, pressing palm flush against palm.

A shaky breath slipped out of Steve's chest. He pulled their hands closer so he could run his fingers over Eddie's rings, then up along his knuckles.

Eddie watched Steve with heavy lidded eyes. They were just holding hands— at least, he thought this weird thing Steve was doing where he followed the lines where their hands touched counted as holding hands— but there was something about it that felt intimate.

Maybe it was the way Steve's lips were parted, and the peek of pink as his tongue wet his lower lip. Maybe it was the way Steve was eyeing their clasped hands like he wanted to fucking bite them.

Or like he was holding Eddie's hand to keep from doing just that.

"Harrington." Eddie nudged Steve with his foot again. "Sure you're with me?"

Those warm eyes met Eddie's again. Steve didn't answer, he just watched Eddie's face in a way that made the other boy feel cut open and exposed. It was a feeling Eddie didn't get often, a feeling he really didn't know how to be comfortable with.

So Eddie did the first thing that came to mind that wasn't just staring right back. He took a hit off of the joint, never taking his eyes off of Steve's. He didn't let the smoke out and instead leaned in to almost press their lips together, and once Steve opened his mouth, he let the smoke pass between them.

Steve made an injured sound. Before Eddie could pull back to check on him a hand was in his hair, and then they were kissing. It was desperate, tongues and teeth meeting and clashing.

"Eddie," Steve panted before tipping his head back so Eddie's mouth could be on his throat instead.

Eddie wanted to mark him. He wanted to bite and suck and leave traces of himself all over this ridiculous jock. He had just enough mind left to not let himself do that, and instead he dragged his tongue over Steve's pulsepoint before giving his earlobe a gentle tug.

"Oh fuck —" Steve pulled him in, licked into Eddie's mouth again and ground against the thigh now settled between his own legs.

There was an urgency in the way Steve's hips moved, in the way he kissed at Eddie's neck before biting down, unafraid to mark the way Eddie had been.

Eddie cursed and rocked down, meeting those hungry little movements. They were going to come together, ruin their clothes together. He should stop it, should remind Steve that he was drunk and there was maybe a girlfriend waiting for him when the sun came up.

Then Steve tugged down the collar of his shirt and those perfect fucking teeth were digging into his collar bone. Eddie cried out at the flash of pain and pleasure as he spilled into his boxers.

Steve anchored a hand into Eddie's hair and pulled him in to kiss him again. His movements picked up, became something more firm against Eddie's thigh.

Eddie was going to remember the sound Steve made as he was coming for the rest of his life.

They settled together on their nest of blankets, with the come drying into the fabric of their clothes and in their pubic hair. Eddie barely dared to breathe, in case Steve decided to kick his ass once he'd come back to himself more. Steve didn't do that, though. Instead he took Eddie's wrist and brought his hand to his mouth, to kiss the underside of each of his three chunky rings before resting Eddie's hand on his chest.

"I should get home."

They cleaned up as much as they could with the napkins fished out of the glovebox. The blankets were left in a pile in the back to be dealt with later.

Steve seemed more calm on the drive back to the Harrington house. Some of the edge Eddie had noticed when they'd first ran into each other seemed to have been smoothed out, whether by the weed or the orgasm or a mix of the two he wasn't sure.

Only once they were parked did Steve remember— "Fuck." He looked up at his house, with all the dark windows staring down at him. "I don't have my keys."

"Actually…" Eddie reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and came up holding Steve's keys.

"You sneaky bastard." Steve took the keys and turned them over as if inspecting that they really were his.

"I really didn't feel like sneaking around Tina's house and having her call the cops on me. Just had to make you think I'd thrown them."

Steve watched Eddie's face in the dashboard light. Tomorrow he would have to talk to Nancy, he knew. It was going to hurt— already his chest ached with what they had to do, what he'd been refusing to accept had been coming for a while now.

But maybe it didn't have to hurt forever. Maybe he didn't have to hurt forever.

"Good night, sneaky bastard." Steve reached over and squeezed Eddie's knee before slipping out of the van.

"Night, Steve," Eddie said. He sat there watching until Steve was safely inside.

[steveseddie]

gold was the color of the leaves

steddie | rating: t | wc: 1,6k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, silly teenage boys, first kiss, fluff

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty two prompt “leaves”

read here on ao3

Steve wakes up when a leaf tickles his nose– or rather, when someone tickles his nose with a leaf. He scrunches it up, swatting the leaf away with his hand. 

He easily recognizes the snigger that follows so he’s not surprised to open his eyes and find Eddie leaning over him, one elbow propped up on the grass and a devilish grin stretching over his lips.  

Steve lifts his sunglasses to scowl at him. “Are you like, allergic to people relaxing?” He asks in a bitchy tone that only makes Eddie grin wider. 

“Deadly so, Stevie,” he says, long dark eyelashes fluttering as the hand that’s still holding the leaf rests against his forehead like he’s going to faint. “It was either annoying you or dying, and you don’t want me to die, do you?”

“I guess not,” Steve says with a long-suffering sigh, but either the fondness in his voice or the way his lips tick up prove that he doesn’t mean it because Eddie’s grin turns blinding, his dimples popping. Steve is glad he’s already lying down or his knees might’ve buckled at the sight and sent him rolling down the small hill they’re laying on.

“Besides,” Eddie says, tickling Steve’s cheek with the leaf, “you’re missing out on all the fun.”

“Napping is fun,” Steve points out, swatting Eddie’s hand away again. 

“Yeah, if you’re eighty!” Eddie snorts. “Are you an old man, Stevie?”

“Eddie, I’m younger than you,” Steve deadpans. 

“Maybe, but I have a young soul, Harrington–”

Steve smirks. “If by young you mean immature–”

Hand to his heart, Eddie gasps indignantly. “Hey!”

“Dude, you and the kids spent the last hour gathering leaves in piles and jumping on them,” Steve says amusedly. He spent the better part of that hour watching them tackle each other between shrieks of laughter, thankful for his sunglasses and how they let him stare at Eddie as much as he wanted without getting caught.

Eddie shrugs. “Hm, you may have a point.”

When he moves, something in Eddie’s hair catches Steve’s eye. A leaf– proof that he’d spent an hour being tackled and rolling on the floor before he decided to annoy him.

Steve’s fingers itch to reach out and pluck that leaf from Eddie’s hair, smooth the curls down, grab a hold of them and drag Eddie down–

Steve shakes those thoughts out of his head, balling his hands into fists to keep them from reaching out. In the silence that follows, Steve becomes aware of the sudden lack of yells and laughter around them. “Where are the little shitheads?”

“Wheeler sent them to wash their hands so they can have a snack,” Eddie says, pointing at the water fountain where the boys are cleaning up and at Max and El, walking arm in arm towards Nancy and Robin at the picnic table. 

“Not you?” Steve asks, head falling back against the blanket he’s using to lay on the grass. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I told her she’s not the boss of me,” he pauses, “then ran away before she could hit me with her book.” 

Steve snorts out a chuckle.

“Besides, I don’t want a snack. I got one right here,” Eddie says with a playful wink that turns Steve’s cheeks bright red. 

He ignores the heat creeping on his face. “I swear, Munson, if you try to bite me again–” he says, thinking about last week when Eddie said he was hungry and promptly sunk his teeth on Steve’s arm.

It didn’t hurt that bad– he was wearing a thick sweater after all. What did hurt was biting his tongue as hard as he could to keep a moan from slipping past his lips from Eddie biting him.

Eddie sniggers. “I won’t bite you, I promise,” he says innocently before he leers at Steve, his face hovering merely inches from Steve’s face. “Only if you ask.”

Steve grits his teeth together. “Shut up,” he quips, shoving Eddie off of him until they’re both lying on their backs, their sides pressed together. 

They fall into comfortable silence which Steve breaks with a loud yawn. 

Eddie’s head lolls to the side, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Tired, sweetheart?”

Steve’s stomach flips at the petname. He shrugs as casually as he can. “A little, I- uh, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Nightmares?” Steve nods. Eddie grimaces apologetically, tugging some hair across his face. “Shit, I should’ve let you keep napping.”

Without giving it much thought, Steve curls his pinkie around Eddie’s. “No, it’s fine,” he says, waiting for Eddie to meet his gaze. When he does, his eyes are a little wide. Wistfully Steve wishes it’s because of their interlocked pinkies. “I don’t wanna miss out on all the fun just because I’m tired.”

Eddie's eyes sparkle and he props himself up on his elbow again, grinning at Steve. “Does that mean I can tackle you into a pile of leaves?”

“You forget I was a jock,” Steve says smugly. “I’d like to see you try.”

Eddie laughs, something between a snort and a giggle. He drops his head in Steve’s chest, making Steve’s heart stutter. 

From this angle, Steve spots another leaf trapped in the curls in the back of Eddie’s head, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from reaching for it. 

The moment Eddie feels Steve’s fingers in his hair, his head snaps up and Steve’s hand ends up cupping the back of Eddie’s neck. 

Their faces are close– so close that Steve can hear the way Eddie’s breath catches when he realizes the same thing.

“Eddie–” Steve starts, not sure if he’s going to apologize for touching his hair without permission or for the way his eyes keep darting down to Eddie’s lips in a way that he knows is fucking obvious. 

But before he can decide what to say, he hears Eddie make an impatient, needy noise in the back of his throat before he surges forward and presses his lips against Steve’s. 

He lets out a surprised yelp, thinking– holy shit, Eddie is kissing me!

The thought bounces against Steve’s skull like a ping-pong ball as he tries to get his brain working again. But before he can do that long enough to kiss Eddie back, he’s pulling away and out of Steve’s reach. Steve’s hand falls back to his side, empty except for the leaf that he plucked out of Eddie’s hair. 

“You uh– you had this in your hair,” Steve says dumbly, holding up the leaf. 

Eddie’s eyes dart to the leaf and his expression falls as he realizes that is why Steve’s hand ended up in his hair, not because Steve was making some kind of move.

“Shit,” he mutters, his doe-like gaze darting from the leaf to Steve’s mouth. That he just kissed. “Shit, fuck– I– shit.”

He scrambles to his feet, and in his haste, ends up stumbling and falling back on his ass– only to roll down the small hill. 

“Eddie!” 

Steve jumps to his feet and runs after him, careful not to trip and follow Eddie down the hill the same way.

He makes it to the bottom right after Eddie and his eyes dart over his starfished body, checking for injuries. 

“Christ, dude. Are you okay?”

Eddie groans, covering his face with his hands. “Did the fall kill me? Please say yes.”

Steve suppresses a snort. “I mean. It’s barely even a hill, so I don’t think that’s possible. You might end up with a bruise or two though.”

“Oh, you mean apart from the bruise to my ego?” 

“What?”

“You know,” Eddie gestures between himself and Steve with one hand, “because I kissed you and you didn’t want me to.” 

Steve puts his hands on his hips. “Who says I didn’t want you to?”

Eddie’s hands fall from his face, revealing his wide eyes and slack jaw. “You did?” He asks, voice going high-pitched.

“Yeah,” Steve says, a lopsided grin stretching over his lips. He knocks his Nike against Eddie’s leg. “I did, you just took me by surprise, s’all.”

Eddie lets out a tiny, startled, “Oh.”

Steve smirks. “Yeah so how about you get up so I can check you don’t have any cuts or bruises before I kiss you. Properly this time.”

Eddie squeaks and scrambles to his feet with as much grace as when he tumbled down the hill. Steve finds his eagerness fucking endearing. 

There are even more leaves trapped in Eddie’s curls now, and with an amused shake of his head, Steve plucks them out of his hair before checking for any bruises. 

Then, as promised, he leans in and kisses Eddie. The second kiss is also short and chaste and over too soon, but it’s good and Steve has to remind himself they’re in public in order to gather enough willpower to pull back. 

When he does, his brain is a little hazy and he completely misses the way Eddie’s expression shifts from dopey to mischievous so it catches him by surprise when Eddie tackles him into a pile of leaves, laughing maniacally. 

“Ha! Got ya!” Eddie whoops, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, hovering over Steve who wants nothing more than to kiss the stupid smug smile off his face. 

But he can hear the kids laughing at him and cheering for Eddie in the distance and there’s no way he can get away with kissing him even if Eddie’s hair falls like a curtain around them, offering a little cover.

So he grabs a handful of leaves and shoves them into Eddie’s grinning mouth instead.

He’ll save the kiss for later.

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2024

July 5th Prompt: Reunion

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 6 | Day 7

@steddie-week

“Babe,” Eddie calls from the kitchen. Steve’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, so he garbles out an unintelligible one minute! before quickly finishing.

He walks into the kitchen, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “What’s up?”

Eddie’s eyes are dancing with mirth as he helps Steve fix his collar. “You’ll never guess what just came in the mail.”

Steve raises a brow. “You’re acting like my parents are groveling at the door right now.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, no. I’d very much be laughing in their faces if that’s what was happening.” He grabs Steve’s glasses from the counter he’d forgotten them on last night, unfolds them, and carefully slides them on Steve’s face. “No migraines,” he murmurs, and Steve’s hit with a rush of love so big he just has to tell Eddie.

“I love you.”

Eddie smiles softly; a small, disbelieving, hopeful thing that’s never changed from the first time Steve said it. “And I, my love,” he murmurs back. “But no, it’s not your parents.” His grin grows into a giggle. “It’s fuckin’ Hawkins High.”

Steve makes a face. “It’s still standing?”

Eddie snorts. “Apparently-fucking-ly.” He grabs two letters; one with Steve’s name, one with Eddie’s. “One letter for each of us. I already opened mine. It’s a reunion.”

Steve furrows his brows, rips into the envelope, pulls the paper out. “Hawkins High School… forty-year reunion… de-” he frowns up at Eddie. “Decennial?”

Eddie hums, nods. “Every ten years. God knows where our other ones went.”

Steve hums. “Guess we can throw these in the trash, huh?”

Eddie shifts. “You don’t want to go?”

Steve stares at him incredulously. “You do? You, Eddie Munson, want to go back to the place where—and these are your words, here—apart from our group of friends, only the- the backwoods of inbreeding resides?”

Eddie cackles. “Oh yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” He’s delighted. Steve’s finding it hard not to smile in the face of that joy.

“So you want to go back?”

Eddie shrugs. “Think about it,” he requests. “I don’t want to go to see how anyone else is doing. Frankly, I don’t have the time to give two shits about them. But you know I’ll always jump at the chance to show you off.”

Steve raises both eyebrows this time. “You want to show me off? In fucking Hawkins?”

Eddie deflates. “You don’t want to go.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, babe, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that even though it’s legal, even though we’re officially married now, if there’s one place that isn’t gonna be accepting…” he trails off, lets Eddie finish the thought for himself.

“What if I convince Nancy to come?”

“Well, she’ll have to come if we go, won’t she? Cause you know she’ll go anywhere Robin does, and Robin’s gonna follow me, so…”

Eddie snickers. “Okay, yeah, fair enough. But babe, we’ll have Nancy and Robin on our side. The three of you took on Vecna, I think you can take on some overweight, washed-up, balding fifty-something-year-old.” He squeezes at Steve’s biceps, and Steve tries not to preen.

He’s proud of the care he’s shown his body, he’s proud of the way he looks, he’s proud that Eddie likes the way he looks. He can feel his resolve waning, is about to tell Eddie fuck it, let’s go, when his phone rings.

He pats his pockets, looks around for it. “Room,” Eddie supplies, and Steve gratefully peck his cheek before jogging to their room, where it’s laying on his nightstand. Eddie walks in as he answers it, having followed at a more sedate pace. “Hello?”

“Are you going to the reunion?”

“Hey, Robbie,” Steve chuckles, meets Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah, we are.”

“Yes!” She cheers. “You’re the best, we’re getting joint hotel rooms, right?”

He laughs and sits on the edge of the bed. “It’s Hawkins, Robs, I don’t think it has anything quite that fancy.”

Robin groans, loud and long enough that both Steve and Eddie have to stifle their giggles. “But I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“It’s been barely a week, Robbie.”

“That’s what I said!”

He relents. “I know. I miss you too. We’ll see you there?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and hangs up.

Steve looks at Eddie, amused. “I guess we’d better pack. And you should tell the guys, don’t you have something going on that day?”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, and runs to the living room for his phone.

Steve surveys their room and sighs. He calls out to Eddie, “bring me a notepad on your way back, please!”

Eddie does, so he sets to work making a list for everything they need to pack while Eddie types away, postponing his plans.

While they might not get joint hotel rooms, Steve, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy are carpooling back to Hawkins in Robin’s van. She’s driving, Nancy’s in the passenger seat, Steve’s right behind Robin and Eddie’s right behind Nancy. Their luggage is piled precariously in the back, meaning every time Robin turns, the luggage slides from one side of the van to the other. Steve, with his mostly-undiagnosed OCD, flinches every time. And every time, Eddie pats his hand.

Besides the shifting suitcases, it’s a nice ride, even if Steve does grab Eddie’s hand and squeeze, just a hair tightly, whenever they pass the Welcome to Hawkins! sign.

Everyone gets a little quiet, after that. Robin fumbles with the radio, and Eddie perks up. “This song,” he says, practically bouncing in his seat.

Steve snorts. “Iron Maiden,” he tells her.

“The fact that you know that-”

“It gets worse,” he tells her, grinning. “The song is called Wasted Years. I know all the words.”

Robin grins, turns the volume up.

The joke’s really on her, though, because she’s always been good at music, patterns, and she’s singing the chorus with him and Eddie by the time they get to the end of the song, Nancy laughing at them. “So understand,” they sing, Robin glancing in the rearview mirror, Steve looking from her to Eddie and back again. “Don’t waste your time always searching for those wasted years. Face up, make this stand. And realize you’re living in the golden years!”

Steve and Eddie are practically screaming it at each other by the last line. Robin’s given up to join Nancy in laughing at them. Steve joins in as Eddie plays air guitar to the end of the song, collapsing in a laugh when it’s finally over.

“Okay,” Eddie says, grinning. “I think I could take on anything now.”

“Yeah?” Nancy asks, pointing ahead. “You’re ready for the reunion?”

They’d decided, since the last time they took a proper road trip had been too many years ago, they could do it the same day as the reunion.

They’d forgotten how getting old, coupled with the problems every one of them still has from the Upside Down, means they’re all very much sore from sitting in a car for upwards of five hours.

The plan was drive the five-something hours, go to the reunion, crash in the hotel, and drive back home the next day.

Steve hates the plan now and wants to go to the hotel to rest like the old man he’s letting himself be.

However unfortunate it may be, the reunion is today, which means Steve gets to suck it up, say hi to people he probably doesn’t even remember anymore, and then leave.

He hops out of the car and stretches a little, laughing when Eddie attempts the same hop out of the car and almost eats asphalt. “Dumbass,” he mutters. Eddie shoots him a Cheshire grin.

Before long they’re ready to walk inside. Steve takes a breath as he passes through the doors. The hallways are the same, but the lockers are new. It still smells like teenagers and feet, he notices, wrinkling his nose. The things you’ll get nose-blind to, he supposes.

The letters they’d gotten said the reunion was to be held in the gym, so that’s where they head.

Steve didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t a few snack tables along the edge of the room and a single Reunion of ‘85 banner. “Goddamn,” Eddie says from beside him, “depressing much?”

Steve snorts in agreement and walks over to the drink table. If he’s going to talk to people, he’s at least going to have questionable-looking punch while he does.

When he turns after getting punch, he nearly runs into someone. He quickly steps back. “Oh, sorry!” He looks up into the shocked face of Tommy Hagan. He blinks. “Tommy?”

“Steve.”

Steve smiles. “How’ve you been?”

Tommy blinks, like he can’t believe Steve’s being nice to him right now, and that’s when Steve remembers they’d parted on not-so-nice terms. Oh well, he would’ve feigned politeness even if he’d remembered. “I’m good, yeah, uh, how- how’re you?”

“I’m good,” Steve agrees. “Really good. Last I remember you and Carol were dancing around each other, yeah? What happened there?”

“We got married,” Tommy nods.

“Congratulations!”

“And then divorced two years later,” Tommy adds, smirking. Steve winces. “How about you? Last I knew, it was you and Wheeler, ‘cept she cheated on you with Byers, yeah?”

“God,” Steve laughs, “that was so long ago. Yeah, that happened. We talked it through and Nance and I are really good friends now. She’s married to someone else, as am I, but we both keep in touch with Jon, thought he’s out in California now.”

Tommy’s brow raises. “Married? Who’s the lucky girl?”

A presence beside him makes Steve turn to see Eddie grinning at him. “My ears are burning.”

“They should be,” he laughs. “Tommy, you remember Eddie?”

“Munson,” Tommy nods, then does a double take. “Wait, you’re married?”

“As of three years ago now,” Eddie says proudly. “But together for…”

“Thirty-seven years,” Steve provides, smiling at his husband before turning back to Tommy. “Did you ever get remarried after Carol?” Tommy shakes his head.

Eddie whispers in Steve’s ear, “You know he totally had the hots for you, right?”

Steve winces at the blast of static from his hearing aid and quickly shuts it off. “Ow,” he mutters, grinning crookedly at Eddie, who looks apologetic. He quickly signs what he’d whispered, and Steve laughs. “Don’t you remember my initial panic?”

Eddie thinks, back to when Steve had asked him what’s gay versus friendly, becoming increasingly confused when most of the things Eddie ticked off in the gay category were things Steve and Tommy had done that Steve had thought firmly resided in the friendly category. “Oh, yeah.”

Steve snorts, shakes his head, pushes him away. “Go talk to someone else. Rescue Robin, she looks like she needs it.”

“Nah,” Eddie says, “she can hold her own,” but goes anyways after a quick peck to Steve’s cheek. Steve turns the hearing aid back on.

“Man,” Tommy says wonderingly, “what happened to you?”

“Concussions,” Steve answers flatly. “Three of ‘em. Then I grew up.” He sighs, looks down at his cup, then up at Tommy. “Listen, man, about what we used to do-”

Tommy winces. “I know. I had that revelation a while ago, actually, but it was definitely shitty of me.”

Steve smiles, shrugs. “You had a crush on me. It’s not an excuse, but it does make a certain kind of sense you’d react that way, especially considering the kind of home life you had.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Feel free to stop listening if the therapist side of me comes out. I swear I’m not trying to, like, diagnose you with anything.”

Tommy’s brows raise. “You’re a therapist?”

Steve hums affirmatively. “Started as a school counselor, if you can believe that.”

Tommy fixes him with a wondering grin. “Y’know? I think I can see it.”

“Do my eyes deceive me,” someone says from their side, draping their arms across Steve and Tommy’s shoulders, pulling them into a hug.

Steve comes face-to-face with Carol. He grins. “Hey, Carol.”

“Hey, you,” she says, raking her eyes over him. “Time’s been good to you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Steve says happily, but its true; she doesn’t look a day over forty, instead of the fifty-odd she is now. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” she agrees.

They go through the same song-and-dance, but this time when she asks who he’s married to, he sees Eddie juggling water bottles, talking to a couple of people. “Oh, for-” he mutters, then louder, “Eddie, what in the everloving fuck are you doing?”

Eddie drops a bottle, puts the other two on the table behind him, and jogs over to throw his weight onto Steve. “Making friends.”

Steve snorts, elbows him off. “Say hi to Carol, babe.”

Carol clocks it immediately, based on the twitch of her eyebrow, but only says, “I didn’t peg you two as a couple.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie snorts, “it was Bumfuck, Indiana in the 80’s.”

Carol tilts her head in agreement, then turns to Tommy and says coolly, “Tommy.”

“Carol,” he replies, tips of his ears red.

Eddie looks between them, then turns a raised eyebrow on Steve, who quickly signs, “Married for two years a while ago. I don’t know any details.”

“He clearly is still into her.”

“I refuse to be a part of whatever you’re planning.”

Eddie pouts. “You’re no fun.”

Carol clears her throat. “Sign language?”

Steve snorts. “Turns out brains aren’t supposed to get banged around. You’ve got a real good chance of messing something up that way.”

Eddie pokes his cheek. “‘S not your fault.”

“Never said it was,” Steve placates.

Carol shakes her head. “How many concussions do you have?”

Steve hums. “Three? Four?”

“Three,” Eddie corrects. “Not that we need to get into it right now.” He gives Carol a tight smile, and Steve hip-checks him.

“Down, boy,” he murmurs with a smile. “I’m alright.” He turns to Carol with a wider smile. “Long story short, the concussions caused irreparable hearing loss. I’m almost completely deaf in my left ear, but I get by.”

“Damn,” Carol says lightly, “life, huh?”

Steve snorts. “You can say that again.” He tilts his head. “How are you?” He asks. “Really?”

She gives him a crooked smile. “Let’s walk and talk.” Steve offers her his arm, which she takes with a laugh.

“How am I,” she muses. “Well I thought I found love, but we imploded two years later. Thank god for prenups, I guess, but at the same time, that made it feel like we were doomed from the start.”

Steve hums. “Eddie and I have been legally married for three years,” he tells her. “Together for thirty-seven. We’ve got prenups. Not because we think we won’t work, but because we want the people we care about to not have to worry about any of that.” He’s silent for a few steps. “I used to think love is out of our control. That we don’t get to decide who we fall for. And maybe, to a certain extent, that’s true. But love is also a choice you make every day. Eddie and I are still in love because we choose to be.”

“You look at each other like you’re on your honeymoon.”

Steve giggles. “And to think we didn’t even have a honeymoon!”

Carol laughs, too, then sobers. “You always were more fortunate in love,” she says. “What do you think? Do we have a chance?”

Steve hums. “I think it’s obvious, just by looking at him, that he’s still into you.”

“No shit.”

“So what’s important is how you feel. Marriage is work, I’m not gonna lie and say it’s not. So are you ready, and I mean really ready, to work for it?”

She works her lower lip. “I think so,” she admits. “But I- I’m also not completely sure I’m straight.”

“Okay,” Steve shrugs. “Do you know what he and I used to get up to?” He shrugs at her look. “I’m just saying, neither is he.”

“I mean, I definitely still like guys.”

“Well duh, you’ve taken more dick than I have and I’m married to a man.”

She snorts. “But women…”

“I know,” Steve says sympathetically. “It’s hard, isn’t it.” He pats her hand. “If you’re ready to try, though, you need to talk to him.” He turns her around, gestures toward Tommy, who quickly looks away, cheeks burning. They both laugh softly.

Carol leans up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Steve. Let’s keep in touch.”

“Let’s actually keep in touch,” he agrees, handing her his phone. “Where do you live?”

“Columbus for now, but he’s in Dayton.”

Steve hums. “We’re in Detroit.”

“We’ll do phone calls,” Carol decides, laughing.

Steve chuckles, saves her number. “Plan to meet up-”

“Never actually do-”

“Oh, Carol, it’s been so long-”

They both break off into giggles. “You’re fun,” she decides. “I wish we’d kept in touch.”

“To be fair, we competed for title of bitchiest.”

“To be fair, I don’t think we ever grew out of that,” Carol retorted, and Steve snorts, gently shoving her.

“Alright, go get your man, and send mine over here.”

She gently steps on his shoe as she leaves, impish smile in place, and Steve turns only to run into Nancy and Robin. “Hey, guys,” he smiles.

Nancy gives him a look. “Making nice with Carol?”

Steve shrugs, grins at her. “Turns out we were just kids. Who knew, right?”

Just then, Eddie comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “What’re we talking about?”

Nancy smiles at him, wraps an arm around Robin’s waist. “Being kids.”

“That so?” He presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, pushes back to look at him. “You look lighter.”

Steve hums. “‘S cause I love you.”

“Charmer,” Eddie mutters, turning bright red. “C’mon, seriously.”

“Seriously,” Steve agrees. “I was talking with Carol about her and Tommy, and I told her that why we work is because we work at it.”

“Very true.”

From behind them, someone cautiously asks, “Eddie Munson?”

They both turn, and suddenly Eddie’s scooping her up in a hug. “Ronnie! What the hell are you doin’ here, huh?”

She laughs and hugs him back just as hard. “Did you ever know a Jackson Starnes?”

Eddie’s brow furrows for a second, then smooths out. “Oh, Jackie! Yeah, he was cool.”

“Mhm. He’s my husband.”

“No shit? I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” she laughs, then nods at everyone else. “Who’s the hunk you were hangin’ off of?”

Eddie chuckles. “Ronnie, meet my husband, Steve.”

She turns an eyebrow on him. “You got married?”

“He proposed,” Steve corrects her, grinning.

“To the preppiest of jocks,” Robin adds.

Eddie laughs. “What can I say? It’s love.” He swoons, placing a hand over his chest, almost pulling Ronnie over with the arm still over her shoulder.

She laughs and dumps him off of her. Steve swoops in before he can fall, hoisting him up with a quick kiss.

“I’m Nancy,” she says, extending her hand to Ronnie. “And this is my wife Robin.”

“Oh!” Eddie says, literally jumping back into the conversation. “Robin and Steve are like how we were.”

“Platonic soulmates,” Steve agrees.

“With a capital P,” Robin emphasizes.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Ronnie says.

“How’s Wayne?” She asks Eddie.

“Dead.” He snickers at her face. “‘S alright, Ronnie. It’s been years.”

“Still. I can be sorry.”

“You can,” he agrees. “It won’t help anything, but you can.” He digs his phone out of his pockets, opens his contacts app. “Here, lemme get your number, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” Ronnie says, “let’s hang out, just lemme know when so I can get a sitter.”

Eddie chokes on nothing. “You have a kid?”

Ronnie grins, a shit-eating thing as she hands his phone back. “Three.”

“Goddamn,” he says, “you got pictures?”

Ronnie rolls her eyes, grabs her phone. “What kind of mom would I be if I didn’t? Here, this is Cassie, Alex, and… that’s Elijah.”

“Oh, man, Alex looks just like Jackie, doesn’t he?”

“I carry him for nine months,” Ronnie bitches good-naturedly. “‘Nough about me, though, how’re you? Corroded Coffin ever take off?”

Eddie snorts. “You hear about the psychopath in ‘86?”

“I remember something about it.”

“Yeah. I got caught in the crossfires, wrongfully blamed, and spent…” he looks at Steve. “A year?”

“Almost.”

He turns back to Ronnie. “Almost a year hiding out. Corroded Coffin was officially disbanded after I was allowed out of hiding.”

“Fuck,” Ronnie says, “there goes my entire foot in my mouth, I guess. What’re you doing now, then?”

He chuckles. “A little bit of everything, honestly. A little music, a little writing, a little D&D. Nothing that’s made me a household name, but enough that I’m kept busy and we’re comfortable.”

Ronnie nods. “And how about you?” She asks Steve.

“Oh, nothing as fun as that,” Steve chuckles. “I’m a therapist.”

Ronnie tilts her head. “Any specialties?”

“C-PTSD, mainly.”

“Damn, I know about eight people who could use someone like you.”

Steve snorts. “That’s usually the way it goes, yeah.”

“Well it was great seeing you, Eddie,” Ronnie says. “And meeting all the rest of you. But I’ve got to find my husband and get back home, so we’ll have to continue this later.”

“Of course,” Steve says. “See you later?”

“Absolutely,” Ronnie nods, then turns and walks off.

They decide to leave not too much later. They’re all tired, so the drive to the hotel is filled with only the sound of the radio, turned almost all the way down.

“Y’know,” Eddie murmurs, tracing the ring on Steve’s finger, “she was my first kiss.”

Steve snorts, an explosive thing that he definitely learned from Robin. “She what?”

“Yup,” Eddie nods. “I knew I liked girls, but she’s the only one I got close enough to to actually know. We got stupid one night and decided to kiss and it basically went how it would if you and Robin were to kiss.”

“Ew,” Steve says on reflex. Eddie snorts.

Robin slaps at him from her seat, then yells when he slaps back, “Don’t distract the driver!”

“Bitch,” he tells her, “you slapped first!”

“You said ew about kissing me!”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Hell no!”

“That’s why I said it!”

Eddie leans up to murmur to Nancy, “should we break it up?”

“Eh, give it a minute. Once they resort to cursing their lineages we can break it up.”

He chuckles. “Always the wise one, Wheeler.”

“You’d best believe it,” she nods smugly.

“Nancy!” Robin says. “Baby! Defend me!”

“About kissing Steve? Who I’ve kissed before?”

“Oh, no,” Robin says, horrified. “I’m stuck in the car with the two people who are experts on Steve kissing.”

“Why’d you make it sound like a bad thing?” Steve demands.

And… yeah. Eddie’s glad they got separate hotel rooms.

Based on the look Nancy throws his way when they part, she’s glad, too.

[flowercrowngods]

it's yearning steddie get high with the others and make out about it hours (smut-ish)

Eddie hates being reminded that making promises to himself, and only himself, is pretty much useless if the only person holding him accountable to stick to his promise is one Eddie fucking Munson. Because that guy can’t be trusted. 

Especially not when it comes to Steve and his stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect dimples, his preppy fucking everything, and — perhaps most importantly — the breathy note his voice gets when the boy replaces his beautiful piece of brain with Eddie’s finest weed. 

Steve in all his sober glory is unbearable at best, sure, that’s old news. But high? When the pained frown he’s not even aware of until he complains about a headache smoothes out and the tension in his shoulders disappears? When his scars no longer pull at every movement and he can hold himself again in the way he used to before everything — broad movements with a clumsy little edge to them that have Eddie’s heartstrings play rope skipping with his sanity.

That. That’s it. That’s it for Eddie. 

And it’s no surprise that it’s also what leaves him helpless in the face of Nancy hopefully suggesting they get high again tomorrow night; all of them. Offering Eddie the chance at getting to see that tension fall away again, and that pale smile be replaced with an easy, genuine, lingering one — dreamy and so fucking pretty. 

Luring Eddie with the most beautiful insanity.

So he says yes, despite having promised himself that he wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time. With Steve all the way up in his space, brushing his hair behind his ear with wonderment, trailing his hand down that lock until he forgot what he was going to say. What he was going to do. 

Forgetting, too, that Eddie was sober, because he wanted to watch Steve without getting caught — but Steve, all high and sweet and tactile, apparently decided to do the same. He looked. And touched. And smiled and breathed and stayed right there. Fingertips dancing around the frayed ends of Eddie’s hair.

Something shifted — first between them, then around them. And then between them again when Eddie stepped back and turned away, in desperate need of a cool drink to stave off the feeling of being caught, of being trapped, of being so fucking gone on the prettiest god-damn boy in all of Indiana. And of having said boy look at him like that. 

They shouldn’t get high again. They shouldn’t. 

But he knows it helps with the pain like their meds never do; he knows it helps Nance sleep better, breathe better, exist in this post-apocalyptic world that doesn’t even remember the apocalypse, whose only reminders lie in the scar tissue of some teenagers and some graves that nobody knows are empty. 

He knows that if he says no, they’ll find someone else to provide; and he doesn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit. 

So it’s not even the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile that gets him to agree, nodding at Nance with an easy smile, saying, “Sure, let’s do it.” 

But it is the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile, his breathy voice, his tactile nature that comes out even more when he’s high out of his mind like he knows he’s floating and needs someone to anchor him, and the memory of that stolen little moment, that makes Eddie curse himself to all hells once Nancy’s blooming smile is out of sight and he’s free of judgment to kick the kitchen counter beside him with a hearty curse. 

He can do it. He can. All he needs to do is not stay sober this time, take the edge off and get out of his head about all of this, because he’s actually far less likely to do anything stupid under the influence, and also not look at Steve All Eyes On Me Harrington. 

Easy. 

Right? 

Totally. 

Except, as it turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right? 

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face. 

A face that shouldn’t look so sad. 

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve. 

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself. 

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t— 

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch. 

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened. 

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.” 

Eddie regains his footing and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone. 

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin. Wants to feel it shift into something deeper. Something real. 

God, he’s so hopeless. 

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now. 

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice. 

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it. 

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again. 

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there. 

Making him wish he could ask. Touch me higher. Lower. Longer. Make it last. Make it count. Let me feel it, just for a second. Let me feel it where they didn’t steal chunks of my skin and my soul and, apparently, my sanity. 

Argyle is the first to spread out on the blankets with a hearty groan that leaves everyone with a fond smile, gathering around him in a semi circle of amusement. He makes grabby hands at Robin, or maybe at the unlit joints she’s safekeeping — but either way, she follows suit, cuddling up to Argyle and in turn making grabby hands at Steve, who does as he’s told and laughs in that gentle, melodic way that they so seldomly hear these days. 

Steve’s eyes fall on Eddie then, but a surge of worry and panic overcomes him, half expecting Steve to follow Robbie’s and Argyle’s example and reach for Eddie next. Or not reach for him. Either way, Eddie doesn’t want to find out, his heart beating in his chest at the endless possibilities stowed away in his overactive imagination. Instead of waiting for Steve’s next move, he sits down right here at the opposite end of the blanket, reaching for one of the pillows so he can hug it to his chest and have something to hold on to, just to keep his hands busy. 

“Just don’t crush the goods there, birdie,” he grins, watching Nancy and Johnathan find a place to sit, too. He scoots over to make room for them, moving further from Steve in the process and feeling the distance in his chest. It’s so stupid. Fucked up, really. 

“Oh, the goods are plenty safe, my dude,” Argyle says, earning himself a giggly groan from Robin that sounds a lot like, Gross!

Jonathan throws a pillow in Argyle’s face, which he deftly catches with just as salacious a grin. 

Eddie tunes them out for a moment as he catches Steve’s eyes boring into him. He cocks an eyebrow and inclines his head, silently asking him what’s up in way less magical a way than he has with Robin. 

He doesn’t really expect Steve to react in any way other than maybe a shrug or a brief, reassuring smile that really has no meaning other than, I’m fine, except for all the ways you know I’m not. 

But Steve doesn’t smile. And he doesn’t shrug. He keeps his eyes on Eddie and fucking pouts. Looks like he’s not even aware of it, his eyes a little glazed already, seeming far away. Far away and right here and looking so fucking sad about it. About the few feet between them and Eddie being all the way over there. 

It’s a bit like the moment they shared earlier, with Steve looking so sad and Eddie wanting to do something about it. He couldn’t then. But now… 

Eddie’s breath hitches a little as he mirrors Steve’s position, falling backwards and leaning on his elbows., never once dropping his eyes. Stretching out his legs until he can nudge Steve’s ankle with his foot. Watching as those eyes snap down to the briefest contact in surprise, watching as Steve looks caught. And watching, too, as his lips twitch and his foot slowly, incrementally moves closer to Eddie’s like he can’t help it. Like he needs to touch him. Always, always needs to touch him. 

And Eddie can feel it there, so he doesn’t move away. He wants to hold his hand, wants to run his fingers through his hair and for Steve to do the same. He wants to breathe him in, wants to live in a Steve-filled world and feel welcomed in it. 

But he can’t. Because they’re not like that. And because this moment is not like that. And Steve is… Well, he is like that, he’s pretty sure. But maybe not for Eddie. Maybe not like that. 

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s;  threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever. 

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous. 

It’s ridiculous, and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things. 

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

He’s glad there’s still a pillow in his lap. And he’s glad, too, that the night is dark enough, the fairy lights not bright enough, to reveal the flush rising to his cheeks as it feels like the bravest thing he’s ever done stay like this. To have Steve looking at him like this. Eyes hooded and intense. Like he sees right through Eddie. Like he likes what he sees. 

With a dull click, Robin’s Zippo pulls him back to reality in what must be the gentlest of ways, and Eddie manages a smile as he watches her gently place the doobie between Steve’s lips before she lights it, one hand on his cheek. Their faces light up, leaving the rest of the world in the dark, and Eddie is struck with how good they are together. 

There’s something in the way she lights the joint for him, some kind of love language from the girl who burnt down the hell dimension below them and left it in ashes, and the boy who held her hand through it. 

She holds his eyes as the flame dies and something passes between them as Steve slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Takes that first hit. 

Eddie’s smile falters as he watches, the glowing cherry coming to life and lighting up Steve’s face, revealing that relaxed little smile on his lips as he holds it in for five, six, seven before exhaling  around it in a slow, drawn-out way. He blows it in Robin’s face like he always does, and Robin laughs and shoves him back, like she always does. 

And Eddie wants to trade her place. Like he always does. Eyes transfixed on Steve as he takes the next hit and pulls the joint from between his lips. Holding his breath again. And Eddie wants to be held like that. Wants to fill Steve’s lungs like that, wants to leave an aftertaste that is both sweeter and biting as he does to Steve what that first hit does to him. Leaving him all soft and gentle and so, so at ease, his eyes droopy and all those lines of pain and worry smoothed out by him. Eddie. On his lips. In his mouth. Fuck, anywhere, really. Everywhere. 

He follows Steve on his exhale, his head getting a little dizzy with the lack of air, but still he is slow to breathe in again. It feels strangely intimate, watching him like this. Watching as that tension falls away and he hums a little around the bud — relaxed and relieved and appreciative. It feels like they’re the only people left in this town, in this state, maybe in the whole world. 

Eddie wants to stay alone like this forever, chase Steve’s breath and wish it would hit his face like that, caress his cheeks until the air around them claims it and erases all traces of Steve; but not from Eddie’s skin. Never from his skin. 

But they’re not alone. And Steve opens his eyes. And Eddie is caught. 

Still he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away as Steve blows out the smoke, sweet and earthy in the air between them as it slowly finds its way to him across the blanket. He imagines that he can feel it as the smell grows stronger, imagines the smoke to feel warm against his cheek as he breathes it all in, holding those hazel eyes in the dark that refuse to look away from him. 

It’s like that moment the other day in Steve’s kitchen when he was so close Eddie could smell all of him, frozen as he was, rooted to the spot — too scared to move and reveal himself, reveal all of himself, all the ugly truths and dreams. His wishes. His desires. 

Why do you keep looking? Eddie wants to ask. What are you looking to find? Am I just an experiment to you, are you looking at yourself through my eyes? Say something. Anything. 

But Steve doesn’t. He never does. Steve Harrington isn’t really the type to just say what’s on his mind, too used to Robin by his side to just read it all and react in her own way. Too used to Dustin, who’d do the talking for him. Too used to just letting his eyes, his arms, his posture convey his message. 

Too used to people knowing him. Getting a good read on him. But not Eddie, because Eddie never learned how to fucking read people like Steve Harrington cast in pretty light and relaxation. Angry, he can read him no problem. When he’s pissed, when he’s annoyed, when he’s sad. Tense. Worried. 

But not this. Never this. This intensity, this steady gaze resting only on him. He never looks at Robin like that, and he doesn’t fucking look at anyone else lately. 

It’s driving Eddie insane. 

It’s too much. 

He snaps when Steve passes the joint back to Robin, and sits up to pull his feet back to himself, covering them with his hands to pretend the warmth is still there. Frowns at the holes in his socks, feeling more exposed than ever. He curls in on himself a little, pretending to be very fascinated with a little thread that’s come loose in the blanket beneath him while the others hold casual conversation around him. 

This was a bad idea. He’s so fucked. 

Part of him debates if he should leave, if he should just call it a day and bid them goodnight. The other part of him wants to just close the distance between him and Steve and settle in beside him so the weight of that gaze won’t fucking wear him down any more. 

But knowing Steve, that wouldn’t work. 

Knowing Steve, nothing works. 

Feeling pathetic and small, Eddie lets himself fall to his side, hiding his face behind Nancy, whose hand comes to rest in his hair, combing through it just a little bit. Allowing him to collect himself. This isn’t new, and they don’t really question when Eddie just randomly lies down anywhere, or if he just stops talking all of a sudden. 

It’s why they do this, after all. No judgment. No questions. Just the sweet, sweet release of Mary Jane. 

It helps, having her hands in his hair like this, grounding him. It helps, finding no question or worry in her eyes as she looks down at him with a little smile — her way of including him in the conversation. He smiles back, just a little bit, and closes his eyes to better focus on her hand rather than the moment. She chuckles when he begins to purr, and then the smile stays a little longer. 

After a while, when she offers him the joint, Eddie shifts to lie on his back and gazes up to find the clouds have cleared and revealed the night sky behind them. It’s pretty, the summer sky, and he takes a long drag trying to think of nothing else. A hot wave of smoke hits his lungs, and it tickles a bit just like it always does, but the urge to cough it back out has been gone for years. These days, his lungs allow the warm embrace of the smoke and allow him to hold his breath as long as he wants, feeling a pleasant buzz after the fifth drag. It’s the good stuff after all. Munson’s Finest. 

He passes the joint back to Nancy, too comfortable to get up and pass it to anyone else, trusting her to do it without complaint. She does. She’s an angel like that. Puts her hand back in his hair and plays with his overgrown bangs a little while Eddie just stares up at the sky. 

Steve’s talking, but the words don’t really translate. It doesn’t matter, though. Just hearing his voice is enough for Eddie to sort of drift into a pleasant sphere of nothingness, his chest tightening a little with it. Always, always tight when he hears that voice. Like his heart has grown three times its size and his ribcage didn’t get the memo that Eddie Munson is hopelessly, helplessly, endlessly gone for a boy who refuses to look away. 

The thing is, Steve has always looked. Always. Even in the Upside Down. The first time, and the second. And then, the third. And Eddie wants it to mean something. Wants it to mean everything, or at least carry that possibility. 

But there’s no way to find out. There’s only him and the stars and Nancy Wheeler’s hand in his hair after his life took several wrong turns that left him with more scar tissue than skin these days, and the horrible realisation that, after the world ended and rebuilt, he can fall in love. That he can want. That he can have these cravings that he’d always heard everyone else talk about, wondering if that was just another layer of freak to him, or if he was simply Like That. 

They’re lonely realisations, he finds. Alienating, in a way. Because not only does he not know how to navigate Harrington, no, he’s a riddle even to himself right now. 

All he knows is that he wants to touch. To hold. To kiss. To crawl into him, on top of him, beneath him, and pull his own name from those lips in tiny little gasps that have nothing in common with the frantic gasps of panic after their first stint with the hell dimension. He wants a do-over. He wants a chance. A real fucking chance to have all these smiles, all these looks mean something. 

Arm outstretched, he reaches for the blunt again, taking it from whomever has it right now, aiming to shut off his brain a little more. Not to suppress it, but to shut it off. Even if that means he has to finish this thing. It’s fine. They have more. They always have more, because Jon and Argyle have an unreal fucking tolerance. 

With a chuckle, Nancy bypasses his hand and puts the joint between his lips and ignores his indignant hum. 

“Treat yourself”, she says, her voice wonderfully slow and lower in pitch. “I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

“‘Kay.” 

The warmth of her hand leaves his scalp, and with her body gone — getting up in way too swift a motion even for sober people — the night air seems a little colder. Eddie shivers a little, refusing to look at anyone, and just takes drag after drag, deciding he’ll finish this one. It’s his weed after all. 

By the sounds of it, Robin is already lighting the next one. Good girl. Smart girl. Best fucking girl in the whole wide world. 

Thick clouds of hot smoke waft through his lungs and all the way through his body up to his brain, leaving his arms and legs with a tingling feeling and his head with a pleasant buzz and tunes out most everything else around him. It’s great. It’s good. It’s wonderful. 

It’s why he doesn’t realise that the air is warm again and a body shielding him from everyone else until there’s a hand in his hair again. He opens his eyes to snark at Wheeler, but— 

It’s not Wheeler. It’s Steve. Knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top as he smiles down at Eddie. 

Neither of them says a word, but Eddie’s breath hitches. Stops, stutters. Just like his heart. And yet all he can do is stare up. Wonder if it’s real. Wonder if it’s real. 

“Is this okay?” Steve whispers, fingers barely touching Eddie’s skin as he sort of plays with his hair. 

After a beat or two, Eddie nods, careful not to move too much. Careful not to chase those fingers and all the things they could mean. 

“Good.” 

And then Steve pulls the joint from between Eddie’s lips, and Eddie wants to warn him because this one’s close to the end and bound to be stronger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Steve as he just sucks in the smoke like it’s the first lungful of air he gets after a long day stuck inside. Smiling around the bud as it dies between his lips, he presses it into the grass beside him, extinguishing the last of it. 

He exhales, and Eddie can make out a tiny cloud of smoke against the night sky, watching as it wanders toward him. He waits for Steve to say something. There is what feels like intent in the movements of his hand, in the sudden appearance by his side, and in the way he— he fucking looks at him again. The sky is full of stars, the backyard full of fairy lights, and Steve Harrington is looking at him. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks at last, breaking the silence, wondering if his voice always sounds so small, so quiet, so endlessly tiny. Wondering if Steve even heard. 

But he did, because he smiles again. He did, because his hand stills. Touches Eddie’s skin. His scalp, his temple. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking from Eddie’s eyes to his own hand with something akin to wonder. Or marvel. 

And Eddie shivers again when that hand travels down. Caressing his cheek, definitely with intent. Electricity shoots through his body again, and the intensity in Steve’s eyes leaves him with goosebumps. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Barely even swallows as Steve bites his lip absently and moves on, trailing from Eddie’s cheek down to his... 

He’s touching his lips, and Eddie doesn’t breathe. Steve runs his forefinger along Eddie’s bottom lip, and in another world would he open his mouth and nip on his fingers or gasp at the touch and be better at this, be so much better at everything. But in this one, he lies motionless as Steve just fucking… explores. 

And his touch is so light, it’s so gentle, so sweet on the rough scar tissue, and yet so absent, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He could pull back his hands now and claim that Eddie had something there. He could pull back and live his life unchanged. Leave Eddie behind in this state of paralysis, changed irrevocably, and be safe. 

But that’s not what Steve does. 

Steve was never one to choose safety over bravery, and he has the scars to prove it now. The permanent stiffness of his back that barely lets him feel anything these days. The set in his jaw when he breathes through the pains phantom and real, the crease between his brows when the memory pains flare up. 

But his back is hunched in comfort now rather than in pain, and his shoulders are at ease. His lips are lightly ajar around a barely-there smile, and the skin between his eyes is smooth. Eddie wants to reach out and trace it, wants to caress it in the hopes that it’ll stay smooth forever. 

He’s so pretty. Golden light catching his skin in all the right ways, leaving him positively glowing with that look he gives Eddie. That look. 

Eddie’s never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. Laid bare, ready for dissection and willing to be taken apart in the hopes of letting him find what he wants and take it. Rip it right out of his chest. Now that he has Steve’s hand on his skin in the lightest of touches that’s anything but fleeting, he knows he would let him take anything he wants. Knows he would be helpless to stop him. 

Helpless in the face of that gaze that trails down to his lips now, if only to follow his fingers. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, barely moving his mouth at all around that single syllable. 

Golden hazel eyes flit back to his, and they widen a little. Like suddenly it’s Steve who’s caught. 

What are you doing? Eddie wants to ask. What are we doing? Don’t stop. Never stop. 

But words are for moments lighter than this one. Words are not meant for a world that’s changing. 

Maybe that is why Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tipping it up and turning his face toward him in a gesture so tender it’s almost possessive. Electricity shoots through Eddie again and the air between them is sizzling with it, sizzling because Steve is moving, shifting, dipping his head, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s throat to keep him from moving away — except there is no force in his touch, and Eddie could still run. 

He could. He should, maybe. Like last time. 

But he is suspended in time, chained to the ground by the weight of Steve’s gaze and the hand on his throat, and his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he is sure Steve can feel it. Imagines that those fingers move to find his pulse. Imagines that they find their home there, imagines that they hear the tales of stolen hearts and desires that leave his blood rushing. 

Imagines that Steve falters a little, hovering just above Eddie. Dreams of it all, dreams that this is real and that he can have this, just for tonight. He nods, and it’s a tiny little thing, far from enough to ruin this moment or wake him from his dream.

But then Steve captures his lips with such care that Eddie snaps back into his body and realises that this is no dream. Steve is kissing him. Hovers above him with one arm resting in the grass above Eddie’s head, his other hand pulling Eddie’s face towards himself and being oh so gentle about it. 

A whimper escapes him when this new reality settles inside his body, leaving him reeling and pulled towards a world of possibilities as those lips, those warm lips, rest so indulgently against his. 

No longer chained, Eddie carefully lifts a hand to Steve’s head, because Steve can feel him there, too, and because he doesn’t want this to end. Because he needs to touch. All night, all week, all this time he has needed to touch. To cradle. To hold. 

To keep. 

Steve hums, and those lips pull into a smile before closing around Eddie’s bottom lip. The first touch of Steve’s tongue has jolts of electricity and arousal zinging through Eddie’s body again, lingering this time and making a home in his legs that begin to tingle with want. 

Eddie opens his mouth, tilting his head a little to get a better angle, and is rewarded with the careful, addictive touch of Steve’s tongue against his. It makes Steve smile again, just for a second — but long enough to make Eddie’s heart jump. 

He chases those lips when they pull back, capturing them with a little hum as he realises he comes more and more unchained, regaining feeling and control over his body, his mind, his scared little heart. Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pushing Eddie’s head down into the grass again with an urgency that Eddie is beginning to understand matches the hunger he’s feeling. 

The hunger that is reserved only for Steve. It leaves him breathless, leaves him with the sudden need to gasp for air, but then Steve’s tongue is in his mouth again and maybe he doesn’t need to breathe ever again. 

He loses himself in the wet slide of their tongues that feels so sensual it’s almost obscene, and all he can do is tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and keep him right where he is while Eddie himself lies boneless, all the blood rushing down, down, down. Every nip of Steve’s teeth as he devours Eddie so entirely and yet so innocently, so sweetly, so carefully, and every time he sucks on his lips or his tongue results in another wave of intense arousal. And Eddie is stuck in the riptide of it. 

It doesn’t take long for the first moan to break the silence, a gasped little thing, almost like an afterthought, and he’s not sure if that was him or Steve; but he doesn’t really care either way, because he’s so hard, he feels like he can come from just Steve sucking on his tongue alone. 

And isn’t that an enticing thought. 

“Steve,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s going to say, or if that’s really all he needs to say. All that’s left to say. Steve, Steve, Steve. 

The only response he gets is a breathy little, “Fuck,” and it sounds like a revelation. Like an epiphany. And Eddie wants to hear it again, wants to swallow all the little noises and murmurs and everything Steve will give him. 

“You’re so—“ Steve begins, interrupting himself with another deep, hungry kiss. “Fuck. You’re…” 

“Yeah?” Eddie counters, breaking the kiss by pulling on Steve’s hair a little. “I’m what?” 

Steve hesitates, panting breaths dancing over Eddie’s skin and he smells so fucking good. Eddie wants to lick the aftershave and perfume and sweat off his neck and keep the taste on his tongue for days. Dark, blown eyes wander over his face, and the hand that was on his throat comes up to rest on his cheek again in a gesture so gentle that it almost gives him whiplash. The hunger is gone — or, not gone, but unimportant now. 

Steve smiles, hazy but genuine and so, so sweet, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s no doubt swollen lips. 

“Been wanting to do that forever.” 

Eddie’s heart jumps, falters, falls. Just a little. Just the rest of the way. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna kiss you forever.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie breathes, voice barely there because his breath has well and truly been taken away, and this moment feels so fragile. So easily broken by quick movements or thoughts that are just a little too loud, just a little too soon. “‘M not gonna stop you.” 

Steve’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s something in there that not even the weed could ease away. “Yeah?” 

Eddie nods, frowning a little, wondering what makes him so unsure. 

“Cool,” Steve says, and it’s almost nonchalant and definitely charming in that way he always is. Makes Eddie laugh a little, his other hand coming up to wipe a strand hair out of his eyes. “So…” He trails off. 

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna stay here? Or go inside, or…” 

And then it’s not arousal that overcomes him but worry. And guilt. And a bit of fear, because that’s not what this is for him. Not like this. Not when they’re high, not for the first time. 

He swallows, schooling his face to cooperate and not give it all away right now, not give away how helplessly gone he is for that boy and how he would do anything Steve wants, how he would take anything he can get and try to make it be enough. But instead of choosing the easy thing and betraying himself, he moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his cheek, melting at the way Steve leans into it, moving his face to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm. 

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is shaky again. And small. So, so small. “That’s not what this is for me. I don’t… I wanna kiss you forever. And more. Much more. But not… I don’t—“ 

“Not while we’re high? Inebriated?” He says the word with a chuckle, referencing the way Robin will always use big words when she’s hammered. There’s a gentle sort of understanding on his face after the chuckle, though, and Eddie melts a little again. “Wanna do it right, hmm? Wanna treat me right and make sure I won’t regret it, angel?” 

Eddie whimpers at the sudden use of that nickname, because he’s not, but he does. He didn’t realise until Steve said it how scared he was — is — that Steve will regret this. The kiss. And anything that might follow. 

Not trusting his words right now, he can only nod, wondering if his eyes are as blown as Steve’s are. If Steve thinks he’s pretty, too. 

“God, you’re unreal,” Steve whispers, coming down again to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, brushing them down to the tip of his nose. He leans into those kisses, tips his chin up to chase it, but Steve pulls away again, his thumb tracing the pout he leaves behind on Eddie’s lips. 

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie grumbles, watching the delight on Steve’s face and deciding that he’s addicted now. Fuck the weed, fuck everything else. Steve can get him just as high. 

Along with that thought, reality works its tendrils into Eddie’s consciousness again, and he looks around the backyard around them — but there’s only him and Steve out here on the blanket, framed as they are by the fairy lights. 

“Hang on, where are the others?”

Steve huffs, his face shifting into an expression of fond amusement and gentle annoyance. “Last time I checked, Robin and Argyle were raiding the fridge, Nancy was lying on the living room carpet, marvelling at how soft it is, and Jonathan was just kinda spaced out on the couch with a bowl of chips. Don’t think they’re gonna come out here again in the next half hour or so.” 

“How convenient,” Eddie grins, wondering just how obvious the two of them had been all this time. Wondering, too, if it can really be that easy. If he can have this. If they can; after everything they went through.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, his body shifting so he’s half lying on top of Eddie now, positively vanishing any and all thoughts Eddie could have spared anyone else. He would worry about the hard-on he’s sporting, but it becomes obvious very quickly that Steve has the same predicament. It’s enticing, feeling him against his thigh like that, and Eddie has half a mind to do something about that, especially when Steve keeps shifting against him. “So. Do you wanna make out some more before we light the next baggie? It’s fine if not. We can just… I don’t know, cuddle or something.” 

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling on his hair a little bit to underline his deadpan. “What about I wanna kiss you forever was unclear?” 

“Hey, I said that first,” Steve retorts, digging his fingers into Eddie’s sides, making Eddie squeal and squirm right into his arms. “I also kissed you first,” he continues, sounding so damn smug about it. Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. “So I’m winning.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Steve all the way on top of him, his hands finding his way to those magnificent thighs, so firm underneath his grip. “‘M feeling pretty lucky right now.” 

“You think you’re so smooth,” Steve hums, dipping his head to hover just above his lips. 

“Is it working?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

They’re both laughing when their lips meet again, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and tasting and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other. Like they’ve already found it. 

Just like Steve’s hand finds his, weaving their fingers together and pressing him further into the grass. Eddie holds on tight, not ready to let him go anytime soon, and marvelling at how sensitive his hand has become. 

There is no urgency in the way Steve slowly begins to move against him, grinding their crotches together in slow, sensual motion like waves of the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Eddie meets him right where they both need it most, not once breaking their kiss even when it becomes open-mouthed panting and moaning that the other is trying to chase and swallow and keep only for himself. 

“You feel so good,” Steve rumbles, catching Eddie’s tongue between his teeth and pulling a high-pitched whimper from him. “So fucking good, Eddie.” 

“Don’t stop, Stevie, fuck.” He’s panting, his legs tingling with want and need and a weightlessness he’s never known before. “I know I said— We can stop. We can stop, we can, but— fuck, I’m close.” 

“Yeah?” Steve taunts, and oh, there’s purpose now in the the way he’s lifting his chest off Eddie, putting his weight behind the way he’s grinding into him. “You gonna come in your pants, baby? While the others are still inside? Means you’re gonna do this with me again later, right? Try again when we’re not high, hmm?”

“Yes,” Eddie rushes to say, working his fingers into Steve’s belt loops to keep him from stopping. “God, yes, I wanna—“ 

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, kissing the words right out of his brain, chasing his own pleasure, too. “God, you’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Eddie. Wanna come with me?” 

“Uh-huh,” Eddie can only nod and moan around all the words he wants to say, all those cheesy fucking words that leave him all the more vulnerable for how true they are. The tingly feeling builds in his legs, climbing to his core, and he wonders for a split second if Steve can really make him come like this — worries that somehow it’s not enough and that he’ll ruin this, that he’ll fuck it up and make it awkward between them because he doesn’t actually have any idea how his body works when someone else is taking the reins. 

But then Steve kisses him like that again, sucking his tongue into his mouth, holding his hand and groaning when Eddie moves in just the right way, and the sizzling pleasure finally finds its release. 

Eddie comes with a broken groan that Steve swallows greedily, panting into his mouth as, shortly after, his hips begin to stutter in their movements and he follows Eddie off the brink of this beautiful madness. Steve was always beautiful, there’s no question about that. But like this, face slack, kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips open around a silent moan as he grinds his trapped cock against Eddie’s, wrecked with aftershocks as his orgasm washes over him? He’s a fucking revelation that makes Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, over sensitive as he is  and yet so helpless against Steve’s aborted little motions. 

Getting high on weed doesn’t compare to getting high on Steve. It’s a high Eddie wants to chase forever, and he starts by wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him down onto his chest again, just to hold him. Steve purrs as Eddie’s hand finds its way into his hair, combing it away from the sweaty skin it sticks to. He cages him with his legs, too, tingly as they remain on either side of Steve’s body. 

It’s stupid, maybe, and a bit much, but he wants to keep Steve like this for a little longer. Putty in his hands, his weight on top of him grounding him after that high, and allowing them both to come down slowly. 

“Man,” Steve says after a while, just letting that word hang in the air as he regains conscious thought. 

Eddie hums, prompting him to say what’s on his mind even though he’s scared he won’t like what he’s about to hear. Still, it’s only fair to let Steve say what he wants. 

“I like you so much.” 

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for the but. For the regret. But none follows. That’s really all Steve’s saying; and soon Eddie can’t fight the wave of giddiness that overcomes him. 

He hugs Steve a little tighter, not entirely ready yet to look him in the eyes and face this new reality they’ve kind of just created, needing to be a little scared for just a bit longer. But still he laughs, because scared is no longer all he’s feeling. There’s so much more now. So much more. 

“I like you so much right back.” 

Now it’s Steve who hums, shifting to lift his head and look at Eddie, but Eddie closes his eyes before Steve can catch them. 

“Said it first again.” A hand lands on his cheek again, just above the ugly scars that Steve doesn’t seem afraid to touch. “So I win.” 

And Eddie is looking now. Dares. If only to drive his point home when he says, “God, you’re so fucking lame.” 

“Is it working?” Steve grins, and Eddie never stood a fucking chance. 

“Unfortunately.” 

@izzy2210 here you go darling hehehe 🤍

[steviewashere]

Kiss and Tell

(Can be found on ao3)

Steddie WC: 2,279 Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing

Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3

-------- Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.

It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.

The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.

He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.

And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.

It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.

But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.

And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.

Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.

Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).

He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.

Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.

Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.

But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.

Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.

Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.

So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.

He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.

Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.

But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.

"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—

Has to squint harder.

So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.

And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—

"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.

Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.

And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.

Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.

So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.

And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.

No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.

Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.

"Do that again," Steve whispers.

Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.

That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.

So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.

But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.

Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.

And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"

He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.

Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.

--------

❤️

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Confessions

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: T || tags: post vecna, references to stancy, angst and fluff, robin buckley just being herself

~~~

Eddie and Robin were just finishing filling the snack bowls and mixing drinks when they heard a knock at the door. It’s a Friday night– and not what Eddie would consider a late hour–but they weren’t expecting anyone to join their weekly movie night at Steve’s. 

He glances at Robin who shrugs, shaking her head. As he rounds the kitchen counter towards the foyer, Steve’s voice carries down the hallway.

“Nance?” He sounds surprised too.

“Steve, I’m sorry I know it’s late, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I can’t wait anymore,” she says. Eddie can’t see her, but she sounds anxious. 

“This can’t be good,” Robin huffs. He agrees, if the sinking pit in his stomach is any indicator.

“Look, Nance, now’s not really–”

“Steve,” she barrels over him, sounding desperate. “I’ve been an idiot trying to convince myself that I haven’t missed you since we broke up– and before you say it, this isn’t because Jonathan left after we closed the last gate. When we were stuck there with Robin and Eddie, the way you looked at me was how I’ve always hoped someone would love me. You looked at me like I was everything to you, like you could look at me forever and never get tired of it. I feel wanted, and loved, and safe when I’m around you.” She takes a deep, steadying breath before pressing on.

“Last time, when we were together, I took all of my grief and anger out on you. I blamed you for  what happened to Barb because I couldn’t face it myself and I knew you loved me enough to hold the weight, and I resented you for it. You wouldn’t stand up to me, and I resented you because you loved me anyway.” Eddie can hear Nancy sniffling, small sobs carrying down the hallway. “You loved me at my worst, and you didn’t deserve that. You’re amazing, and strong, and kind and everything I could ever ask for.

“Steve, what you said in the Winnebago, I just, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us”

The silence that follows is stifling and Eddie feels bile climbing up his throat. Arms wrap around his shoulders as Robin tucks her head into his neck. Only a small comfort while months of gentle moments with Steve flash behind his eyes: soft hands brushing his curls, stolen glances, lingering touches, and warm smiles. Now Eddie’s forced to stand vigil as it’s all washed away by Nancy's whispered pleas.

“Nance, please–”

A spark of hope after a late night confession weeks ago– swiftly blown away.

“Steve Harrington, I lo–”

“Nancy,” Steve interrupts, his tone firm yet soft around the edges, “I’m in love with someone else.”

Robin gasps into his neck. Her arms around his shoulders squeeze tight, anchoring him to reality in the wake of Steve’s confession. His chest is so full he can’t breathe. 

“Oh,” Nancy whispers before another, deeper sob leaves her breathless. He never thought he’d hear Nancy Wheeler cry. Even though they’re apparently both in love with the same man, he’s grown close with her too and can’t help the urge to comfort her. Eddie’s grown to love everyone in his new found family. But Nancy is right. 

“Yeah Nance, I’m sorry. And they’re kind of here right now, so,” he says gently.

Steve Harrington is everything. 

And they’re kind of here right now…

Hope flames in his chest, blooming with warmth. Eddie doesn’t hear the conversation end over the buzzing in his own head and Robin’s frantic giggling until they hear the click of the front door and Steve’s footsteps coming towards them.

“Oh.”

Steve’s standing in front of them, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Eddie’s realizing he and Robin maybe should’ve hid before Steve rounded the corner to find them eavesdropping. 

“So,” Steve stammers, a fierce rouge burning his ears, “how much of that did you hear, exactly?”

Robin quickly stands, clearing her throat before Eddie can think of an answer. “Is that the microwave? Did anyone else hear the microwave ding? I think the popcorn is done, so I can go check that right now. Yeah, right now. I’ll just, umm, be in the kitchen checking the popcorn. For the movie.”

She practically sprints down the hall, and although she wasn’t subtle, Eddie’s still thankful for the privacy. Steve’s shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Everything,” Eddie answers. “We heard everything.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. He sounds anxious and unsure, something Eddie’s compelled to fix, because all he wants in this world is for Steve Harrington to be happy.

“It’s ok.” He takes Steve’s hands in his own, tracing his thumb lightly over his knuckles. “We won’t say anything to her about it, and we won’t tell anyone what she said. Nancy’s in safe hands with us. Mum’s the word!” And as Eddie mimes zippering up his mouth, he hopes that Steve won’t take the easy way out. That he won’t use the life-raft Eddie’s just thrown in his direction to keep him from drowning. 

“Right,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he gazes at the floor between them. The silence as Eddie waits for Steve’s next words grows long and tense. He can’t hear any movement in the kitchen, making him more anxious now that he knows Robin’s listening. Which, he’d be a hypocrite to be mad about.

Maybe he has this all wrong. Maybe Steve just needed a way to get her to leave, so he lied about having a date over. Maybe he didn’t know what to say, and just said the first thing to pop into his head. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with Eddie at all. 

Eddie realizes he’s still holding Steve’s hands, his grip tightening the longer he spirals. If it hurts, Steve hasn’t said anything. But when Eddie looks at his face, he seems dazed and lost in thought. As fast as if he’d been burned, Eddie drops Steve’s hands and takes a step backward.

“So,” Eddie stammers, voice shaking, “I’m going to go help Birdie with the popcorn. You want to get another movie started?”

Hands still frozen in the air, Steve finally lets his clenched fists fall to his sides. Eddie can see the whites of his knuckles. He hears Steve sigh, exhausted and frustrated, but Steve’s nodding with furrowed brows and taking a step backward towards the living room– away from Eddie. Too far to reach out to.

Turning away, Eddie’s in the middle of forming an escape attempt when he opens the kitchen door to immediately be swept up in Robin’s arms. Of course she’d been listening. He’s grateful for it, now that he doesn’t have to explain himself. As he buries his face into her neck, he finds a wet patch and wonders what kind of accident she got into while prepping snacks. It’s not until she starts gently shushing him that he realizes he’s crying, tears soaking into her shirt. 

“It’s gonna be ok, teddy bear,” she says, running her hand through his curls, “he’ll get there, I promise. He’s working on it, you know that.”

He nods. He does know that. Steve’s been out to Robin for a few months, but only to Eddie for a few weeks. He deserves the space to figure it out, and the grace of those around him to do so at his own pace. Still, Eddie can’t help his growing impatience alongside the increasing severity of his crush. At least Robin’s here to support the both of them.

The two of them finish gathering the snacks in silence. She was full of awkward jokes to try to lighten the mood, but when it was clear Eddie was stuck in his head, she’d stopped. He feels bad about it. He’ll make it up to her later, plus he knows she’s not upset with him. Eddie suspects they’ll be getting together sometime tomorrow to rehash everything that’s happened– after she’s finished consoling Steve, of course.

When they leave the kitchen, Eddie’s surprised to find Steve exactly where he’d left him. He’s standing frozen in the hallway, lip pulled between his teeth and hands still clenched. But when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s, there’s resolve behind his eyes.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Oh my god! Finally!”

Eddie jumps violently at Robin’s shouting, almost directly into his ear. She’s flushed red with embarrassment decorated with a manic grin so wide he wonders if it’ll just keep stretching like taffy. There’s popcorn poured out onto the floor from where she clearly threw her hands up in excited exasperation. He watches as her eyes grow wide, her smile morphing into shock, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’, as if to say ‘oh shit, I just interrupted the most important moment in my best friends’ lives because I’m so excited and impatient that these two dinguses finally figured their shit out’.

She kicks the scattered popcorn towards the wall, like that’ll somehow hide the mess, before awkwardly passing them both down the hall towards the living room.

Eddie loves her so much.

“Huh,” Eddie chuckles, “well that was–”

“I’ve known I’ve liked you since last summer when you let me help you into my pool onto Holly’s rubber duck floaty so you could finally go swimming after you finished physical therapy.” Steve sounds out of breath, words running into each other with misplaced breaths in between. Like if he stops, he knows he won’t start again. 

It’s the only time Eddie’s felt the urge to keep quiet– when he’s not fighting for his life.

“You were so nervous,” Steve plows on, “but you said you felt safe with me, that you wanted only me to be there. You said you trusted me to help without laughing or judging you. Fuck, Eddie, you were so goddamn cute once we got you settled in with a Coke with a crazy straw in it. We were listening to ABBA and you didn’t even complain and you were so sunburnt the next day. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

The memory leaves Eddie shocked. He did trust Steve to help, didn’t even consider asking anyone else because Steve just felt like the most obvious answer. He’d been there through the worst of Eddie’s post-PT work to make sure he ‘kept form’ on his exercises. They’d lounged in the sun all day, and it was the first time Eddie watched Steve relax since his final Upside-Down battle. 

Eddie feels his lip quiver, eyes burning, knowing they’d felt the same that day. Judging by Steve’s watery eyes, he guesses they feel the same now, too. 

“But love,” Steve whispers. He swallows as he takes a step closer, reaching out to grasp his hands. “Eddie Munson, I knew I was in love with you yesterday.”

His shoulders tighten as he recalls yesterday, surprised because they hadn’t seen each other at all, one of the rare days where their schedules didn’t line up. It was the first time in months they’d gone longer than thirty-six hours without seeing each other. Sure, they’d talked on the phone while Steve worked, but it’s not the same.

“I know,” Steve laughs, clocking Eddie’s confusion. “I thought about you all day. Couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Robin had to work with the customers because all I kept thinking about was tonight. If you’d get here before Robin, so we could sit out by the pool and smoke. Where we’d sit for the movie and if we’d get to share the popcorn bucket. If you’d pick a movie I hadn’t seen, so you’d lean in close and tell me a million random facts, even when you know I don’t really get it. But I just like when you’re close, next to me, and–” he hesitates– “I think that’s why you do it.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, wiping a tear from his eye using the back of Eddie’s knuckles. He returns the gesture, wiping what Eddie’s guessing is a mix of tears and snot off of his own face with Steve’s sleeve. 

“I think you lean in because you want to be close to me, too, and you don’t actually care about the movie either. Eddie, I think you ask for my help because you trust me in a way only Robin does. You give me cute nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘pretty boy’ because you’re teasing me, but I think it’s mostly because you really mean it.” Steve’s stepped closer now, and Eddie can feel the warmth of shared air between their gasping breaths. 

“I think you tease me and lean into me because you want my attention,” Steve whispers, brushing his nose alongside Eddie’s as their foreheads touch. “But Eddie, you’ve always had my attention.”

Eddie surges forward, capturing Steve’s tear-soaked lips between his own in what has to be the snotiest kiss either of them has ever had. But he doesn’t care. How could he? Eddie’s kissing the man he’s been in love with for almost eight months. 

Steve drops Eddie’s hands in favor of running one through his dark curls, while the other grips tightly at his waist. He can’t help but cup Steve’s cheeks, running a gentle thumb along his cheekbones. 

It’s soft and messy and everything he’s ever hoped for, because Steve Harrington is his everything, and he’ll do anything to keep him. Right now, he doesn’t have to worry about what they’ll tell their friends, or how they’ll explain this to Nancy, or even if Robin’s listening behind the door– he’s sure she is. No, right now, he lets himself bask in the glow of Steve’s love and soak in the comfort that Steve feels loved in return.

[solarmorrigan]

Bats, and What to Do With Them

For the @steddie-spooktober day 14 prompt: Bats Rated: T | Words: 756 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, Steve Harrington has absent parents, at the very least, Steve Harrington deserves nice things, and Eddie will give them to him Divider credit: @saradika

The first time Steve holds a bat, he is four years old, and his dad has signed him up for tee ball.

To be perfectly honest, Steve isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. It’s bright, there are a lot of other kids milling around, everyone seems to be shouting about something, and Steve is apparently supposed to be doing something with the bat in his hands.

When he finally does figure it out—when he hits the ball and it actually goes somewhere—his dad whoops from his spot in the crowd, and Steve glows. His dad isn’t around much, doesn’t have much time to play with Steve, but he’s here now, and Steve wants to make him to stick around. He runs when they tell him, and hits the ball when he’s supposed to, and he does his best to make his dad proud.

Tee ball becomes Little League, becomes the Hawkins Middle School team, becomes junior varsity in high school, but by the time he’s sixteen, Steve has given up on baseball. His dad had stopped coming to his games a long time ago, and Steve’s realized it will take a lot more than hitting a ball to make his dad proud.

Still, the feel of a bat is familiar in his hands when he swipes it up off the floor of the Byers’ living room. The weight is a little different, a little off-kilter with all the nails hammered into it, but Steve can adapt. He’s hit smaller targets than the thing he’s aiming for, but it’s never mattered as much that he lands a swing as it does right now.

He doesn’t even have to think about it; muscle memory takes over as he winds up, aims for the flower-petal head full of teeth that’s about to kill his friends, and swings for the fucking fences.

Later, even though the bat had been Nancy’s, and it had been Jonathan who’d filled the thing with nails, it stays in Steve’s possession. They both think that it’s best in his hands, and Steve doesn’t disagree. It comes in handy, after all, less than a year later when Dustin comes barreling into his life, bringing demodogs in his wake.

And a couple of years after that, when Steve actually has a moment to consider it, he almost wants to laugh. He’d had a bat in his hands again, and he hadn’t even had to think; he’d simply gathered all his strength and swung.

The fact that the bat had been a monster, rather than of the baseball variety, had apparently been irrelevant. Steve is well-trained by now; he knows what to do with bats.

At least, he’d thought he did.

But now, there’s a bat sitting on his pillow, and he’s at a loss.

It’s purple and black and fuzzy and stuffed – a little plush toy. Steve picks it up carefully, looking it over, and it looks back through green plastic eyes, giving Steve a little fang-toothed smile.

“Hey, Steve, have you– oh, you found him,” Eddie says, walking into the bedroom breaking into a grin has he finds Steve standing by the bed, still staring down at the bat.

“Yeah.” Steve says, looking up at Eddie with furrowed brows. “What’s it doing on my pillow, though?”

“He’s for you. Obviously,” Eddie teases. “Saw him at the store and it made me think of you, so I brought him home.”

This is clearing absolutely nothing up for Steve. “Why would this make you think of me?”

“Well,” Eddie says slowly, coming up beside Steve to sling an arm around his waist and pull him close, “you’re the man who handles the bats, right? So: a bat. For you. I thought he was cute.”

It is cute. Steve likes it, but he feels like maybe he shouldn’t. He hasn’t had a stuffed animal since he was maybe six or seven, when his dad had said that he was too old for them.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Steve asks, the toy still cupped carefully between his palms.

“Hold him. Cherish him. Raise him as your own,” Eddie says, holding an entirely straight face for about five seconds before he’s smiling again, teasing Steve. “It’s a plushie, Steve, you don’t have to do anything with it. Just… enjoy having it.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

It’s a bat. Just for him to have. Something soft and sweet with no expectations attached.

And Steve guesses he can learn something new, when it comes to dealing with bats.

[3minsover]

back on my steddie bullshit fr

Thinking about hope(ful)less romantic Steve driving to Eddie's trailer in the pouring rain to finally confess his love after months of dancing around each other and almost-confessions that crumble on the tips of their tongues before they can become anything real.

Steve finds himself pacing around the ground floor of a house that's too big and too quiet, thinking about a guy who should never, ever have taken up as much of his brain as he currently does. It's a Friday night, and Eddie's most likely out at a gig, or at a bar, or doing nerd shit. He's most likely doing anything but thinking about Steve. And yet here Steve is, entirely preoccupied with the reckless marvel that is Eddie Munson.

Fuck it.

It's been four months since Vecna, and everyone seems to be okay again. It's been long enough that it wouldn't be weird for Steve to make a move, right?

Before Steve can really consider what it is he's about to do, he has his keys in hand and he's heading out towards his car. He doesn't even realize it was raining until he steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. And there's not much thought that goes into any of it, really. It's instinctive, the way Steve knows the route to Eddie's place by now. Regardless of the thrashing of his heart, there's an easy kind of familiarity in the sodden streets and jutting roads. Steve's windshield wipers are working double time, fending off the sheets of rain that pile down amidst the humidity of late July; it'd been a cloudless day until the sun set. But like the heaviness of Steve's heart, the clouds had begun to weigh themselves down with water, waiting for the moment where the heft of it all became too much.

Steve hadn't quite beaten those clouds to the punch.

He arrives at Eddie's with really no recollection of how he'd gotten there, only that he needed to see him and nothing was going to get in his way. Eddie's already sitting out on the porch when he pulls up. The dusty ground is darker, saturated with fat, relentless raindrops. Eddie sits on the steps of his trailer, only just covered by the awning. The toes of his sneakers shine with wetness.

"Why are you out here?" Steve asks, clambering out of his car. It's all he can think to say. It's not the words he wants to purge, not the things that have been itching in his throat every time they've been alone together for the last however-many weeks. But it's what comes out.

"Wanted to hear the rain," Eddie responds, a cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. It's a simple enough response. Shouldn't warrant a reaction. Only, Steve's standing a few yards away, dampening by the moment, and he needs to just get it out.

"I need to- I gotta talk to you," Steve stutters, drifting closer. Eddie's eyes narrow.

"About what?" he asks, clearly skeptical.

"About you. Or, me. Us. I- shit, I used to be good at this." Steve raises a hand to swipe over his mouth: it comes away wet. He's fucking soaked, standing defenceless against the onslaught from above. Eddie flicks the cigarette and the butt lands at the base of the steps. He hinges upright, dropping down a step until the raindrops begin to splatter onto his curls, landing like spits of silver against the glow of the street lamps overhead.

"Good at what?" Eddie calls through the low rumble of the rain.

"Good at- I dunno, confessions? I told Nancy how I felt about her no problem. Robin was a little tougher, but I still got through that, but with you," Steve gushes, entirely unsure as to where he's going with this, "I just can't seem to find the words."

For an impossible amount of time, Eddie stares. His pretty features seem to go through about a half dozen emotions before he settles on something that Steve's soul recognizes as pity. He prepares himself for inevitable rejection.

"You're telling me you can't find the words?" Eddie asks, incredulous, "Dude, i'm a songwriter, a fucking wordsmith, and I've been drawing a blank on you for months!"

Steve squints, a little at a loss.

"What?" he asks, feels stupid for not getting it straight away.

"Steve, I should be able to write songs about the guy I love, right?"

"Well- Yeah- I- Wait, what?" Steve starts before Eddie's words catch up. The rain's growing heavier, beginning to sting his cheeks a little, but he's fixed to the spot, not daring to move any closer. It's Eddie that draws nearer, dropping down the final steps until they're on even footing.

"If you hadn't- If you didn't come over here tonight, I was gonna- I was gonna come to you. I had this whole fuckin' speech planned out - I'm pretty sure it was stupid, honestly, but I wrote it anyway, because I have all these goddamn feelings about you, Steve. And I couldn't find a way to make them sound like anything other than what they are." Eddie's waves are flattening by the second, darkening under the weight of the water falling from above. Steve's heart pounds against his ribs, threatens to break free altogether.

"But I- I came here to- You're- Eddie?"

"Fuck sake, Steve. I'm-"

"Wait." Steve interrupts him, his brain catching up all at once, overfilling and spilling over. "Wait, just let me- Can I say what I was gonna say?"

Eddie folds his arms around himself, chilled by the rain despite the thick warmth of summer around them.

"Sure. Shoot."

Steve heaves in a breath.

"Okay. Eddie. I've been thinking, and you and me, we're good, right? Like, for each other." A droplet of rain catches between Steve's lashes, forcing him to blink it away. Eddie's slim figure remains in front of him, proving that this is real, this isn't some hallucination, some daydream borne of an idle brain. "I think you and me could be something good. Great, even. And I- I- I think I- I know you maybe said it already, and I shouldn't even be-" Eddie strides forward, closing the space between them in a breathless moment. Steve's breath catches in his throat. Eddie's dark eyes dart frantically between Steve's own, so round and wide and beautiful. Steve's so in love with him. "Eddie, I'm- I think I've... fallen in love with you." Steve skates his palms over Eddie's biceps, up and over his shoulders, until he's cradling the sides of Eddie's neck. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm in love with you."

Where they're so closely matched in height, Steve's eyes are crossing just to keep his gaze focused on Eddie, who's looking more like the proverbial deer in headlights right now.

"Shit, Harrington," Eddie breathes, and Steve feels it warm against his rain-chilled lips, "took you long enough."

It's a kiss that follows, soft and hesitant, like Steve would do anything but lean into it, like he's anything but head over heels, absolutely and embarrassingly in love. it's a kiss, and it's wet and a little too cold, a little too out in the open, but Steve wouldn't change it for anything.

[ineffableoutpost]

Steve Harrington on BookTok

Older Steve who downloads tik tok and begins to make book tok videos without ever having read much. Instead, he makes it like a collaborative book club where his followers suggest books and after he gives them his review.

At first people love him bc he’s this cute fifty year old man with glasses and a husband who was a famous metal star in the nineties and early 2000s. Then there are other people who give him the Pedro Pascal treatment of calling him “daddy” and thirsting for him. Steve shuts that down immediately.

The popular first request was the LOTR series and Steve has to apologize and say that his husband reads them to him and has been doing it for decades now.

Then comes Harry Potter and Steve is a little apprehensive because the author is a piece of shit. But he does read them and has a mini obsession over it.

Then he moves on to other books, and then the queer community of booktok finds him and begin requesting a bunch of queer books. Steve cries while reading The Song of Achilles, but loves it.

Then, they make him read a book full of smut, and Steve makes a video halfway through the book where he’s like;

“You guys are making me read porn!” You can clearly hear Eddie cackling in the background

- - -

Steve makes a special series where he and Eddie purposely read shity books and laugh along the way. (Colleen hover makes many appearances)

*reading about the two characters laughing at their baby’s balls*

Steve: *speechless*

Eddie: *speechless x2* and gay people are the problem?

They look at each other and burst out laughing

- - -

Steve making another series with Nancy and Robin where they look at how some male authors write female characters.

Nancy: *reading* her breasts jiggled excitedly as she descended the stairs

Robin: *laughing her ass off in lesbian*

Steve: *also laughing along*

Eddie: *pops his head into frame* I, for one can account this as true. Steve’s tits do jiggle excitedly

Eddie stitches the video with an old home movie where Steve is running down the stairs shirtless, and his tits do in fact jiggle

- - -

Steve makes a video with Eddie where Eddie explains how he annotated his books and shows his oldest copies of the hobbit and LOTR.

Then there’s a small clip of one of Steve’s annotations in one book and it says “slay”

Cut to Eddie laughing asking where Steve got that word from and how long he’s been using it secretly in his annotations.

- - -

Steve gets an opportunity to partner up with audible or some shit to make a small collection of his favorite books into a subscription bundle.

He’s so excited when he also starts seeing bookshops make a little table with a sign saying “Steve’s Favorites”

He’s so exited because reading and books was something he hated for so many years, but also something he managed to turn positive.

Some stores also display a “Steddie Favorites” with the LOTR series and some of Steve’s selected books.