based on this post by @liightsnow <3
“Lucas, what’s your favourite song?”
“Oh, uh. I don’t know.”
“Figure it out,” Steve says tightly. “And tell me. If we don’t have the taPes we can get some in town in the morning.”
The room is quiet, tense, and everyone knows what’s going through Steve’s head.
Just in case.
It’s almost uncomfortable, all of them sitting around the basement of Nancy’s house, on the sofas and the floor like they’re waiting for something.
“Mine’s Time After Time,” Erica says after a moment. “Cyndi Lauper.”
Dustin snorts.
“Excuse me?” Erica says, tilting her head, and Eddie suppresses a smile, looking back and forth between them. “Why is that funny?”
“Nothing,” Dustin says, shrugging.
“‘Nothing?’ Why’d you laugh then, huh?”
“Just…” The others are all watching too, suppressing their own tired smiles as they bicker. “You’re such a hard-ass, it’s kinda funny that your favourite song’s a romantic ballad.”
“Language,” Steve scolds. Eddie’s smile grows.
“What’s your favourite song, then, asshole?” Erica asks.
“Language,” Steve says louder. Eddie is grinning now, rocking back and forth, looking away from Steve’s scandalised expression to Dustin’s face, which is now flushing pink.
“…Angeleyes,” he admits. “By ABBA.”
There’s a chorus of muffled laughter around the room.
“ABBA?” Eddie questions, making a face, and Dustin raises a finger at him.
“This needs to be a judgement-free zone—“
“You were just laughing at me for Cyndi Lauper,” Erica interrupts, shoving at him.
“That’s ‘cause it was funny.”
“ABBA’s kinda funny, too,” Lucas says, shrugging. Max is next to him, giggling behind her hand, headphones around her neck, and Eddie can’t remember the last time he saw her laugh. Dustin flips Lucas off.
“What’s your favourite song?” he asks, slumping into his seat and crossing his arms, almost pouting.
Lucas pauses, thinking for another moment before he says, “Rio,” firmly. “Duran Duran.”
Steve gives an approving nod, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Figures the jocks would have the same music taste.
“Why?” Dustin asks. Lucas makes a face, tossing a hand.
“‘S a good song, why do I need a reason?” he asks, then leans forward. “Why do you like Angeleyes?” he teases. Dustin turns pink again.
“Makes me think of Suzie,” he says begrudgingly. “Does Rio make you think of anyone special?”
“Shut up,” Lucas snaps, backing off. Eddie glances at Max, whose cheeks are pink she she looks down, still smiling. Eddie’s grin widens.
When he glances at Steve, he’s smiling too, watching the kids fondly. And Eddie is grateful for this moment, for the softness and banter and bickering and normalness, even if it’s brief.
“Robin, what’s your favourite?” Lucas asks, ignoring the way Dustin is snickering at him.
“Uh,” she sighs, looking up at the ceiling, arms around her legs that are drawn to her chest. “Emerald Eyes, Fleetwood Mac.”
“Wait, do we all have the tapes for these?” Steve asks. "I think I have Fleetwood Mac, but..."
“I have Erica’s,” Nancy says. “In my room. I might have Dustin’s too.”
“I have mine at my house,” Lucas says. Steve hesitates.
“I might have it too,” he says. “I’ll check when we stop at mine tomorrow.” Lucas nods. “Nancy, what’s yours? You have it?”
“Yeah,” Nancy says. “I have it, its’s One Way or Another. Blondie.”
Steve nods.
The rooms falls quiet again. Eddie looks at Steve again, at the way he’s sitting on the floor, arms around his legs like Robin. at the way he’s biting his lip, deep in thought. There’s a crease between his eyebrows. He looks too old, not at all like the boy Eddie used to see in the hallways at school. It feels weird to miss him.
“Steve,” he says quietly. Steve blinks, looking up at him like he’s startled. “What’s yours?”
“Uh, Shout At The Devil by Mötley Crüe,” he says. “I have it in my room.”
He’s met with silence.
Eddie finally stops rocking back and forth, staring at Steve, wondering if he really just said what Eddie heard. Steve blinks and looks back at him, then at the kids.
“…What?”
“Mötley Crüe?” Lucas says slowly.
“Yes?”
“Since when do you listen to metal?” Dustin says, and Eddie would go after him for his tone (he sounds disgusted) if he weren’t still frozen, stuck in place.
“Since, like, middle school,” Steve says defensively, rocking Eddie’s world even more. “What’s your deal?”
“I thought you were gonna say something by, like, Wham,” Max says dryly. Steve makes a face.
“Or ABBA,” Erica adds, dodging Dustin’s elbow.
“He listens to metal all the time,” Robin says, and Eddie finally tears his eyes away from Steve to look at her, wide-eyes. “Drives me crazy.”
“You don’t mind Van Halen,” Steve says defensively, leaning forward to look at her, and Eddie’s gaze finds him again.
“I do when I get out of school,” she says sassily. “And I’m tired, and I want a nap, and I get into your car to hear some guy yelling—“
“It’s not yelling, oh my god—“
Eddie’s lips are parted as he looks at Steve in awe as they bicker. He snaps out of it when Steve looks at him, their eyes meeting across the coffee table, and he blinks.
“What?” Steve says, half-smiling like he knows. Eddie shrugs, starting to rock back and forth again.
“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says lightly. Steve raises an eyebrows. (God, why is that hot?)
“To have good music taste?” he asks, amused. Eddie shrugs again.
“Debatable.”
“The hell do you mean debatable?” Steve says, defensive again. Eddie grins.
“Mötley Crüe’s glam metal—“
“You are so fucking annoying,” Steve says, his eyes wide. “Oh my god.”
Eddie throws his head back with a loud Hah! as a chorus of Language! rings around the room, followed by giggles as Steve makes a face.
“What’s yours?” Nancy asks, kicking Eddie lightly from where she’s sitting on the sofa.
“Master of Puppets,” he says, his smile fading. “Metallica. I have it in my room, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to get it from the trailer—“
“I have it.”
Eddie’s eyes snap back across the coffee table. Steve is looking at him. Earnestly. Seriously. Eddie furrows his brows.
“What?” Steve says. “I have it.”
“Who are you?” Dustin says, and Steve finally looks away from Eddie to glare at Dustin.
“You be quiet, Angeleyes.”
“It’s a good song—“
“For a twelve year old girl, maybe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Erica interrupts.
Their voices turns to white noise. Eddie stares at Steve, his cheeks flushing with heat, and he pulls a piece of his hair across his face absentmindedly, gazing and gazing and gazing at Steve while he bickers with Dustin. Steve’s smile when Lucas joins him in teasing Dustin makes Eddie’s face flush warmer, and Eddie blinks hard, dropping his hair and looking away so he doesn’t combust.
He turns a little bit to find Nancy staring at him, her head tilted, eyebrows raised a little, her eyes shining with amusement even though her expression kind of looks like she’s watching a house fire.
“Unbelievable,” she says after a moment, and his face turns hot, and he knows he’s blushing profusely as he points at her.
“You can’t say shit to me.”
She raises her hands in surrender, wide-eyed.
She gives him the same look the next day when Steve comes back with the tapes. Steve calls, “Eds,” while Eddie is laying upside down on one of the sofa, and Eddie tries to sit up before Steve tosses the tape to him. He manages to catch it, looking at it curiously in a lapse of memory before he remembers just as he spots his name written on the label, slanted and a little loopy in Steve’s handwriting.
He looks up at Steve while Steve walks away to find Robin, and he’s smiling again, and Nancy is rolling her eyes.
“You’re acting like he made you a personal mixtape,” she says when Steve is out of earshot. “He’s getting you a tape so you don’t die a gruesome death—“
“Listen, Wheeler, I’ve been through a lot,” he says, letting his head fall again as his eyes close. holding up a hand to shut her up. “Let me have this, please.”
“Okay, Eddie.”
She’s smiling.
—————————
Without you, my hope is small
Let me be me all along
Eddie inhales slowly, feeling coming into his body. He can see bright light through his eyelids, and he feels cold, but something warm is touching his hand.
Let the fires rage inside
Knowing someday I'd grow strong
Fingers playing with his, tracing them, running across his knuckles, squeezing and massaging and holding gently. The music that's playing is quiet, like it’s coming from headphones instead of a speaker, and Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile when he recognises the song.
Without you, without you
His hand finally shifts, his fingers twitching, and the hand holding his tightens as weight makes the bed he’s on shift.
“Eddie?”
Eddie exhales, squeezing his hand a little bit and turning his head. The pillow he’s laying on is really soft, and he hears his hair scratch over the fabric.
“Hey, Stevie,” he says weakly. His voice is scratchy and rough and almost unintelligible, and it hurts to speak. He winces. Feeling seeps back into his body, and he groans.
“You okay?” Steve asks softly, and his other hand is touching Eddie’s face, tracing his cheek lightly.
“My whole body hurts,” Eddie grumbles, closing his eyes again.
“Yeah, no shit, moron,” Steve says, but he’s laughing a little, and Eddie snorts, coughing. He turns his head so he isn’t coughing into Steve’s face.
“Fuck.”
“You’re gonna be okay,” Steve says softly.
Eddie sighs, relaxing into the bed as Steve touches his face again, squeezing his hand. His fingertips brush over his forehead and cheek and the bridge of his nose.
But with you in my life
You're the reason I'm alive
Eddie slowly turns his head toward the music, squinting in the bright lights of the hospital that reflect off the sterile walls and while blankets that are covering his body. There’s a walkman next to him on the bed, the chord of the headphones tangled as the music plays quietly but loud enough to be heard. Eddie closes his eyes again, smiling softly.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind glam metal,” Steve says. Eddie can hear his smile. “Pretentious fucker.”
Eddie laughs weakly again, coughing.
“I don’t mind,” he whispers.
He turns his face into Steve’s palm and kisses it. And then his face flushes with heat as Steve leans down and presses his lips to his forehead. He wants to hide behind his hair, but he’s too tired to reach up to pull it across his face, and then he doesn’t really want to hide as Steve smiles at him with this softness in his eyes that no one’s ever looked at Eddie with before.
“I thought they were gonna follow us through,” Eddie says quietly. “The— The bats. ‘S why I stayed.”
Steve squeezes his hand.
“I told you not to be a hero,” he whispers.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Steve kisses his forehead again, and then he leans over Eddie, pressing their foreheads together.
“You’re okay,” he breathes, so softly that it seems like it’s to himself.
Eddie sighs, focussing on the pressure of Steve’s forehead against his, of Steve’s fingers twisted around his. He smells like expensive soap, citrusy and warm.
“You wanna go to a Sabbath gig with me someday?” he mumbles. Steve laughs softly.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Cool.”
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