#Solar Controller | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solarmorrigan · 2 years ago

Text

Steve crochets Eddie a scarf part 1, part 2, part 3, Ao3

Steve has heard of knitting circles, of course, but he’d never expected to be a part of one.

(Of course, since it’s just him, Joyce, and El, and none of them knit, it’s really more of a crocheting triangle – except for that one time Murray Bauman joined them; he knits, because of course he does, and that had made it into more of a mixed yarncraft square, but that doesn’t really roll off the tongue.)

He also hadn’t expected that the true purpose of a knitting circle (crocheting triangle) is not to better facilitate any kind of fiber crafting, but mostly to spend time snacking and gossiping.

He can’t say he really minds.

“So, Steve,” Joyce says, looking up from the baby blanket she’s been working on (one of her coworkers, Margey, is pregnant; she’s a nice young woman whose boyfriend doesn’t deserve her, and who very much hopes she’s having a girl, even though her boyfriend wants a son, so Joyce is making the blanket optimistically—or vindictively—pink. Steve loves that he knows all of this), “I never did ask – did that someone like their scarf?”

“Oh. Um.” He has no idea how to answer that. Eddie had definitely liked the scarf, had liked it enough to give Steve a gift in return—a very thoughtful one, actually—and then Steve had gone and ruined it and probably scared Eddie away forever, and maybe now Eddie wanted nothing to do with the scarf?

Steve really has no idea.

He’s probably been silent for too long, though.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they did. Thanks again for your help.”

Steve follows this statement with an incredibly nonchalant gulp of coffee, which is about when El turns to him and asks, “Who is ‘someone’? Did you finish a scarf for someone other than Eddie?”

Coffee is not air, and it does not belong in Steve’s lungs. Luckily, he only inhales a little bit of it, and manages to cough it out before Joyce feels the need to reach over and thump him on the back.

“No. Nope, just… just Eddie’s,” Steve rasps, decidedly not looking at the knowing smile that’s tucked itself up in the corners of Joyce’s mouth.

“Oh. Well, then he definitely likes it,” El says. “He’s wearing it every time I see him.”

“That sounds like a good sign,” Joyce says leadingly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve shrugs and focuses on his new project (Henderson’s scarf; it’s thinner than Eddie’s but broader, so it can be folded over, and he’s making it with colorful, variegated yarn).

“Are you going to ask him out?” Joyce asks.

Steve wonders if it’s possible to drown himself in his cup of coffee.

It doesn’t matter either way; El’s attention has already snapped back to him, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and she’d probably just find a way to drag him back from the dead.

“Are you?” El demands with a grin.

Abandoning his crochet hook, Steve reaches up to shove his fingers under his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose (he’s still getting used to the glasses; he doesn’t like wearing them, but they do help with his migraines, and Joyce makes disappointed Mom faces at him when he doesn’t wear them, so he at least brings them to the crochet triangle). “Probably not.”

He can hear the frown in El’s voice as she asks, “Why not?”

“Pretty sure I blew my chances there,” Steve sighs.

“What happened?” Joyce asks; when Steve lets his glasses fall back into place to chance a glance in her direction, she looks sympathetic.

It’s been about a week since Steve sent Eddie running from his house, and Steve hasn’t really had the opportunity to talk to anyone about it yet. Robin would usually be the first (and probably only) person to hear about it, but he hasn’t quite been ready for what he knows will be an entirely honest, but not entirely gentle, assessment of the situation.

El and Joyce are likely to be kinder, but it also feels a little weird to talk to them about his love life. Joyce has been more of a mother to him than his own ever was, and even though El is rapidly approaching sixteen, she’s still like nothing so much as a kid sister. Do people talk about this sort of thing with family members? Steve has no idea.

Whatever.

“He, uh. He actually brought me a gift,” Steve finally says, finding great interest in the view out the window behind Joyce. “Like, to say thank you for the scarf.”

Joyce nods encouragingly.

“What was it?” El asks.

“A, uh. A Hellfire shirt. For his little nerd club. Except he said that it’s our nerd club now because I’m a member, even though I don’t play.” Steve shrugs. “I guess because I do other stuff for them.”

“That sounds nice, Steve,” Joyce says, and Steve nods.

“It was. It is! It was really nice, and I wanted to show him I appreciated it, so I gave him a hug, right? And that was nice, too, and he returned it, and he – like, he seemed interested,” Steve’s on a roll now, there’s no stopping the car crash of words coming out of his mouth, of all the habits he had to pick up from Robin– “so, y’know, when he said he hoped he got the right size shirt, I said maybe I should try it on to make sure, and he said that was a good idea, and—I would like to reiterate, he really seemed interested—so I just, y’know, kinda took off my shirt right there. In front of him. To try the new one on. And I might’ve thrown the other one at him. And he left very quickly after that.”

Of all the reactions Steve had expected, Joyce laughing at him hadn’t been high on the list, but that’s exactly what she does. So hard she nearly falls out of her chair.

Steve watches her in open-mouthed shock for a moment before exclaiming, “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry!” Joyce gasps in between peals of laughter, flapping a hand at him. “Of course it isn’t!”

This draws a giggle out of El, and Steve turns to point a finger at her. “Don’t you start, too.”

El slaps a hand over her mouth, but it’s very clear that she, too, is laughing.

“I seriously think I scared him off!” Steve insists. “He ran out of there so fast he took my sweater with him. I liked that sweater.”

This only makes Joyce laugh harder, and Steve has no choice but to sit back on the couch with a huff and wait for the mirth to die out.

“Okay,” Joyce breathes, running a thumb under her eyes to catch the tears while El does her best to bite down on her smile. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m good now.”

Steve grumbles, picking his scarf back up, but he can’t say that he’s really that displeased; it’s nice, after everything, to hear everyone still laugh (and even if he’d prefer it not be at his expense, he doesn’t mind now and then).

“Do you want my advice, sweetie?” Joyce asks.

“Since I’m providing entertainment, it only seems fair,” Steve says, and Joyce snorts.

“Okay.” She abandons her chair and comes to perch on the arm of the sofa beside Steve, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a one-armed hug that he doesn’t resist in the slightest. “You probably did come on a little strong.”

Steve sags a little against Joyce, and she’s quick to continue. “But! I really don’t think you ruined your chances. Maybe he just wasn’t expecting such an… immediate reaction, or maybe he was worried that he was misreading the situation–”

“How can you misread someone taking their shirt off?”

“People convince themselves of all sorts of things where love is involved,” Joyce says, rubbing Steve’s shoulder, and Steve mentally swaps out ‘love’ for ‘feelings,’ because he can’t think about love right now (not again, not yet). “But Eddie seems like a pretty straightforward kind of guy; I’m sure he’d have told you if he wasn’t interested. You should just be honest with him. Talk to him.”

“But that’s not how it works,” El pipes up from Steve’s other side.

Steve and Joyce both look over, and El sets down the rainbow beanie she’s been working on (it has an absolutely excessive pompom on top, and Steve really hopes she’s planning to make Mike wear it), preparing to explain.

“In the movies,” El says earnestly, “that is not how it works. No one just talks about it, that’s… weird.”

Steve grins. El’s latest endeavor in pop culture education has been romcoms; she’s been devouring the entire section at Family Video, and Steve has taken great pleasure in offering her recommendations (Robin, meanwhile, insists he’s poisoning El’s mind with pre-packaged, heteronormative trash; Steve says Robin is just jealous that El doesn’t like her film recommendations; Robin tells Steve to go crochet a doily; then they get into an argument over the purpose of doilies—Robin insists they’re purely decorative, but Steve is certain they must have some kind of use—and forget about their original argument entirely).

“She has a point,” Steve says. “I can’t just go up to Eddie like, ‘Hey, sorry for sorta stripping in front of you, are we still cool, man?’ That would be really awkward.”

Joyce gives him a dry look. “Well you don’t have to phrase it like that.”

“Exactly!” Steve snaps his fingers, pointing at Joyce. “I can still talk to him, I just have to… you know, talk around it. Play it cool.”

El nods sagely. “Play it cool,” she echoes.

“See? El’s got me.” Steve grins, gesturing back at El for good measure.

“Okay.” Joyce holds her hands up, as if in surrender. “Apparently you guys know best. I’ll just take my advice and my happy relationship and go back to my chair.”

Steve shrugs. “Well, yeah, your method worked on Hopper, but I’m not trying to get with Hopper.”

“Ew.” El reaches over and gives Steve a shove. Joyce has a hand over her eyes, clearly trying not to laugh again.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Steve insists, and Joyce gives an affirmative hum that doesn’t really sound like she believes him at all.

But she will see. He’s just going to play it cool, Steve decides, as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and goes back to crocheting a scarf for a mouthy fifteen-year-old he has trouble saying ‘no’ to.

He’s totally cool.

Steve realizes as the phone starts ringing that maybe he should have come up with a plan before dialing Eddie’s number.

The thing is, Steve isn’t really much of a planner; he has an idea, he follows through with the idea. He can deal with the consequences of the idea when they arise.

Unfortunately, the consequence of his current idea is Eddie answering the phone, and it has just arisen.

“Hello?”

Steve blanks.

Greeting. He should greet Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie.”

Nice.

“Steve. Hey.” Eddie doesn’t sound displeased, but maybe a little higher pitched than normal. Nervous? Maybe that’s just the connection.

There is a moment of awkward silence in which neither of them says anything because Steve is the one who called and he hasn’t told Eddie what he called for, mostly because his idea had pretty much boiled down to ‘call Eddie, feel out the situation, but don’t talk about the thing.’

It’s Eddie who finally speaks, sounding more like himself when he asks, “So, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, I was just calling to… check,” Steve pauses, briefly, thinking frantically, “what kind of snacks you wanted. For Friday.”

“…Friday.”

Steve’s stomach drops. Did Eddie actually want nothing to do with him now, or had he just forgotten?

“Yeah. You guys were planning to play over at my place this week. That’s… still a thing, right?”

“Right! Yes, yeah, it’s – yeah.” Steve can almost see Eddie nodding on the other end. “I just wasn’t sure you’d… want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Steve frowns; they are perilously close to talking about it.

“Uh. No reason, I guess? Didn’t want to make assumptions on your behalf,” Eddie says. “Y’know, sweep in and totally take over your house when you’re not feeling it, and then you’re standing there giving us invaders your best mom glare.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fond despite himself. “I do not have a mom glare,” he says (Eddie isn’t going to listen, just like no one else listens when he tries to tell them the same thing). “Anyway, how about you just tell me what you want to eat, huh?”

“Oh, you know me, I’m not picky,” Eddie says breezily. “I’ll eat whatever you want to feed me.”

“You know that means you’re not allowed to complain about what I pick, right?” Steve says, banishing the thought of actually feeding something to Eddie (but– flirting. Flirting is a good sign, right?).

“Not a peep. Cross my heart,” Eddie says, and Steve can’t help but smile in response to the way he’s certain Eddie must also be smiling right now.

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, as if he doesn’t believe Eddie (and he doesn’t, really, because Eddie is pickier than he makes himself out to be, and he will complain if only to be a nuisance), and he wants to leave it there, leave it on that light note of banter, but– he also wants to be sure. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to wear the shirt?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Well, it is standard club attire, Steve,” Eddie teases, and Steve gives in to a little huff of frustration.

He bites the bullet, decides to be just a little more direct. “Sure, but– do you want me to wear it?”

“I–” Eddie starts, stops, falls silent. Steve holds his breath. Then, finally: “Yeah. I really do.”

Steve sighs out into a grin. “Great. I’ll, uh. I’ll see you Friday, then?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, “I’ll see you Friday.”

Steve’s pretty sure he hasn’t had fucking butterflies in his stomach since maybe his junior year of high school, but damn if he doesn’t get them now, just thinking about the end of the week.

(He’s probably beyond pretending he’s anything like cool about this, but he’s surprisingly okay with that.)

Friday evening brings the promised onslaught of invaders, and Steve greets them at the door, the foyer filling with the squeaking of snow-wet shoes and the extended rustling of winter coats being shucked and shoved into the closet.

It’s the kids who come in first—just Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will tonight—chattering at each other and at Steve and making themselves right at home, as usual, but it’s the older Hellfire members who clock Steve’s shirt first. He can see the moment Jeff sets eyes on it, elbowing Gareth and nodding at Steve; Gareth snickers, which alerts Grant, who looks at Steve and rolls his eyes.

Steve raises his eyebrows at the three of them, but they don’t seem inclined to say anything. They don’t even seem that surprised.

Dustin, however, speaks up almost immediately upon noticing.

“Steve, what are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Steve retorts. “What are you wearing?”

Mike, now alerted to Steve’s choice in attire, looks utterly affronted. “Where the hell did you get that?” he demands.

“It was a gift, Wheeler, don’t burst a blood vessel,” Steve says, which does not seem to go a long way at all in getting the kid to chill out.

“The t-shirts are for Hellfire members only,” Mike says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Which is how we know Steve is a member,” Eddie says from the doorway, where he’s finally made it in from parking the van, his jacket still zipped and the scarf Steve made for him wrapped around his neck.

“He’s not, though!” Mike insists. “He doesn’t even play!”

Eddie hums, stepping fully into the foyer and shutting the door behind himself before making a show of looking around the room.

“Tell me, Wheeler: whose house are we in right now?”

Mike stares at Eddie, brows raised, not quite able to tell if he’s being asked a trick question or not. “Steve’s?”

“And who probably has snacks waiting in the kitchen for our ravenous horde?” Eddie goes on.

This time, Mike sighs. “Steve, but–”

Eddie cuts in. “And who gives those of you without the ability to legally operate a motor vehicle rides to and from club meetings whenever your little hearts desire?”

“Technically, we rode with Jeff and Grant tonight,” Dustin pipes up.

“Other club members! An excellent point, Henderson!” Eddie points to Dustin in agreement, who mostly looks baffled, if a little amused. “It’s a service we provide for each other.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but–”

“Now tell me, Wheeler,” Eddie rolls right over Mike’s protest, slinging an arm across his shoulders. “Who founded the Hellfire Club?”

“You did,” Mike says, glancing uncertainly at Eddie.

“And who ultimately decides whether or not to grant membership to another person?”

“…You do.”

“And who, pray tell, has the ability to make tonight’s session very challenging for our party’s gallant paladin?” Eddie smiles, sharply saccharine in the face of Mike’s sour frown, and reaches up to pat Mike on the cheek when he doesn’t answer. “And don’t you forget it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Couldn’t you have picked a better-fitting shirt, though?” Lucas asks Steve.

“It was a gift,” Steve reiterates. “And shut up, this fits fine.”

“Right,” Dustin drawls, looking from Steve to Eddie with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I didn’t realize my fashion choices were that interesting,” Steve scoffs. “Are you guys gonna play tonight, or not? Some of you do still have a curfew, and I’m not fielding angry parent calls again.”

This gets everyone back in motion, the group trickling out of the foyer and through the living area to get to the dining room. Gareth is the last one to go, bouncing his eyebrows and grinning at Eddie, who gives him an entirely ineffectual shove and sends him laughing out of the room.

And then it’s just Eddie and Steve.

“I really do like the shirt,” Steve says, hoping to fill the silence before it curdles awkwardly between them. “It’s comfy.”

Eddie smiles, different from the sharp one he’d pulled out a moment ago, now amused and fond and much more real. “It’s a good look for you,” he says, looking Steve up and down, and– that.

That had been the reaction Steve had been hoping for when he’d first put it on.

Maybe he had come on a little too strong at first. Maybe Eddie had just needed time. But whatever had happened, Eddie seems to be fully on board now.

“It’s definitely growing on me,” Steve says. “But I’m kind of getting the feeling that you like it more.”

“Guilty,” Eddie admits, with remarkably little guilt.

But when he steps forward, closing in on Steve’s space, the hand he raises is hesitant. Steve doesn’t move, tries very hard to broadcast that he is very alright with this, and smiles when Eddie finally brushes his fingers along the line of Steve’s collar.

“What can I say? I like seeing a little me on you,” Eddie says.

Steve reaches up to tug at the scarf, still tied around Eddie’s neck. “I think I know the feeling,” he says. “But you should let me take these for you. You have to be melting by now.”

“We don’t all run hot, Harrington,” Eddie grumbles, even as he’s unwrapping the scarf. “I even dressed in an extra layer tonight.”

Steve is about to ask Eddie what the hell he’s talking about when Eddie unzips his jacket in one decisive motion and reveals– Steve’s sweater. The one Eddie had accidentally(?) walked out with last week.

He’s wearing it under his jacket.

It looks good on him, a bright splash of blue-green where there are usually only more subdued shades, and Steve can only take Eddie’s jacket with automatically curling fingers as it’s pressed into his hand.

“I’ve been wondering if you were going to bring that back,” Steve finally says. “It’s one of my favorites.”

There’s a moment of flusterment before Eddie smirks at Steve. “You mean you didn’t want me to keep it? You seemed so worried about how cold I’ve been,” he says. “And you did throw it at me.”

It’s Steve’s turn to flush under Eddie’s words. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to run off with it.”

Eddie bites his lip. “Okay, yeah, I might’ve… panicked. A little bit,” he admits. “I wasn’t really expecting to, uh. To get what I wanted. Wasn’t sure what to do with it.”

Alright– alright, fine. Steve concedes. They might have to actually talk about it. Just a little.

“You don’t have to do anything with it. You’re not obligated,” Steve says. “But it’s there for you, whenever you want it. If you do still want it.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s, dark and sincere. “I really, really do. Didn’t mean to make you doubt.”

The silence sits softly between them this time, filled with a smiling kind of certainty. Steve isn’t particularly worried about it becoming awkward, but he finds he can’t help but tease, “So do I get my sweater back, or what?”

“Well, it is kind of warm, now that I’m inside. I guess I should give it back,” Eddie says.

He takes a step back from Steve and promptly whips the sweater off, rucking up the Hellfire shirt he’s wearing underneath and revealing a stretch of lean stomach before he pulls the hem of the t-shirt back down and tosses the sweater at Steve.

“That’s better,” Eddie declares. “I can go get the game started now.”

The teasing glint in Eddie’s eye as he turns away is all Steve needs to dump the clothes in his arms onto the side table and reach out to catch Eddie around the waist.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve says, pulling Eddie back towards him.

Eddie starts to speak, maybe to question him, probably to tease him, but Steve thinks they’ve waited long enough. With one hand still resting on Eddie’s waist, Steve brings his other up to cup his cheek, and leans in.

He can’t say who really initiates it, because Eddie meets him halfway and is kissing him back with equal fervor; he’s clearly recovered from the chill he’d been bothered by earlier, because his lips are warm and inviting against Steve’s.

They don’t stop until they stumble into the hall table, their surroundings having momentarily melted away into unimportant background fuzz.

“Figured I should really thank you for the shirt,” Steve barely pulls away enough to murmur against Eddie’s growing smile. “I thought about crocheting you a hat, but I think this is probably better.”

“Definitely better. But you know, I’ll have to reciprocate in kind.” Eddie shakes his head with the fakest look of regret Steve’s ever seen. “Shit, Steve, if I keep thanking you and you keep thanking me, we might be at this a while.”

Steve laughs, a small breath of amusement as he tilts his head to greet Eddie’s next kiss. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Ao3]

First, I’d like to thank @theysherobinbuckley for putting the idea of Steve, Joyce, and El having a crochet circle into my head. It was something I never knew I needed until I saw their tags

Second: Tag List. I hope I caught everyone, I am very sorry if I missed you, though!

@infinitetrashbag, @unclewaynemunson, @thehumblefigtree, @courtjestermunson, @tillystealeaves, @darkwitchoferie, @phantypurple, @ceaselessly-watching, @annabell257, @momotonescreaming, @silentiumdelirium, @gamerdano, @panicatthediaz, @bejeweledbaby, @strawberryspence, @stevesbipanic, @henderdads @cuips-not-cute, @silversnaffles, @thegingervulcan, @cr0w-culture, @gamerdano, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @mightbeasleep, @tpwkweasley7, @sharkruption, @bye-zai, @paperbackribs, @stitchinaride, @cookies-and-doom, @maya-custodios-dionach, @twopenguinsunderatrenchcoat, @freddykicksasses, @flustratedcas, @marivictal

#steddie #steve & eleven #steve & joyce #steve harrington #eddie munson #el hopper #joyce byers #stranger things #that it! that's the end!#I did write a tiny epilogue sort of thing because I have no self control #and I'll put that up in a few days probably #but other than that!#solar wrote #eddiesteve

630 notes · View notes