#author is demi and decided steve was too lol

[mcdynamite]

CWs: discussions of sexuality (particularly demisexuality, though Steve and Eddie don’t know a term for it at the time), VERY mild sexual context

Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.

He's not, like, trying to brag about it, or anything. Frankly, he's not even sure it's something he would want to brag about in the first place. It's just an objective fact.

The sky is blue. The Earth is round. Water is wet.

And Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.

Which is...well, a little bit bizarre, considering the fact that he's not entirely convinced he actually enjoys it most of the time.

At first, he chalks it up to inexperience. Everyone's first times were a little bit awkward, weren't they? Maybe everyone felt weird and a little bit off-kilter the first time someone touched them like that. Maybe everyone felt icky for hours afterwards, like something was just off. Steve had spent his childhood going to church on Sundays (at least, until he turned 10, and Richard and Susan decided he no longer needed luxuries like parents), so maybe it was just guilt.

That was a thing, right? Catholic guilt, or whatever? He'll get over it. He's sure of it.

Only...he's less sure of it several months later, when he still can't get rid of that stupid icky feeling, and he can never quite grasp what Tommy is talking about whenever the dude starts obsessing over wanting to fuck some pretty actress in whatever movie they’re watching. When he’s with a girl, he feels anxious the moment clothes start to come off, despite the fact that he wants this. He wants to have sex. He wants someone to touch him and make him feel good. He wants to do the same for someone else. But it always feels wrong.

The only part he really likes is what comes after, when he can wrap his arms around whatever girl he's with that week and just hold her - no more sex required, now that it's over and done with. That part feels good. Amazing, even. He loves having someone to cuddle up with - to make him feel less alone in his fucking mausoleum of a house. It's nice. It feels good.

He's pretty sure it's the only reason he keeps having sex in the first place. It's like a transaction. Steve gets the girls off, and in exchange, they stick around for a little while afterwards to fill the echoing silence of Steve's house with soft laughter and quiet words.

And sure...sometimes Steve sort of falls apart after they leave to get home before their curfews. Usually, it just leaves him feeling squirmy and anxious. But sometimes, when it's especially bad, Steve sits on the floor of the shower with his arms around his knees for ages and cries until the water gets cold, unable to wash the icky feeling away.

He knows he should stop doing this to himself, but God, he's so fucking lonely, and now he's made a reputation for himself. Now there are expectations, and if Steve has learned one thing from Richard Harrington, it's that living up to expectations is the most important thing in life.

So he keeps doing it. His technique gets better, despite how wrong he feels, and the girls keep coming. And Steve keeps wondering what the fuck is wrong with him - why he feels physically pleasured enough to come most of the time, but always hates himself afterwards.

Then, at the beginning of his junior year, he starts dating Nancy Wheeler.

He knows right away that this feels different from any of his other flings. Nancy is sweet, and smart, and just a bit of a firecracker, and Steve loves it. Even better, she doesn't try to get him into bed on their first date, or their second, or even their third. It's not until the pool party that things take a more intimate turn between them, and by then, Steve is smitten.

He waits for the ick to kick in while he caresses her and kisses her everywhere - waits for the feeling of weirdbadwrong to make itself known - but this time... it doesn't. This time, Steve looks down at his partner and is stunned by how beautiful she looks. It's never been like this with any of the other girls - he's never wanted any of them quite like this - and for the first time, Steve really, genuinely enjoys having sex.

There's no ick; no uncomfortable feeling in his belly that sort of makes him feel ill. There's just Nancy, who looks and sounds beautiful, and smiles at him as they doze off together afterwards. It's amazing. It's perfect.

Steve thinks that maybe he's normal, after all.

He should know better than to get his hopes up, by now.

The next year is a whirlwind of absolute insanity. There are monsters, and alternate dimensions, and little kids with honest-to-God superpowers, and funerals... and sex becomes the least of Steve's worries.

He and Nancy are only intimate a handful of other times, after that first night (it's hard to get in the mood when all either of them can think about is how the first time they did this, her best friend was dying), and despite everything else going on, the ick, at least, stays away. It seems to be proof that Steve isn't broken or weird. He just needed some time to get used to sex.

He realizes how wrong he is the first time he tries to hook up with someone after Nancy breaks his heart, when the ick comes back. After that, he only tries once more, and then he just stops trying to score entirely... pretends he's just lost his touch and feels secretly relieved every time Robin Buckley puts a tally under the "You Suck" side of the whiteboard in the back room.

It goes on like this until March of 1986, when Eddie Munson comes barrelling into his life and changes everything.

His relationship with Eddie is unlike any he's ever had. They start out as tentative friends after everything with Vecna is finally over, and then it grows from there.

They hang out with the kids at Steve's place, which eventually turns into them hanging out without the kids. They talk about the weather, and the Upside Down, and music, and DnD campaigns. Anything and everything that comes to mind. Eddie tells Steve how he came to live with Wayne, and in return, Steve tells Eddie about his parents - about how he sometimes feels like he's haunting his own home.

(Eddie starts making excuses to stay the night more often, after that conversation, and Steve doesn't mention it, but he notices.)

And one day he looks over at Eddie, who's talking animatedly to El while Steve pops popcorn for their movie night, and suddenly, it hits him like a goddamn truck.

Eddie Munson is beautiful.

Steve can barely breathe as the realization takes hold, because he's not used to seeing people this way. He can appreciate when someone is objectively attractive, sure, but he rarely looks at someone and wants like this. He rarely looks at a person and wonders what their lips would feel like against his own, or what sort of sounds they make when they come, or what they'd look like with Steve's love bites riddling their skin...

He's only looked at one other person this way before: Nancy, after they'd been dating for a few weeks and had gotten to know each other better.

He's so shocked by the sheer amount of wanting he's feeling for Eddie that he blows right past the gay panic part of his bisexual awakening, straight into bumbling idiot with a crush territory.

And really, it must be obvious, because two weeks later, Eddie's gaze locks onto Steve's while they're sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, and Eddie smiles. It's a soft, gentle thing - so different from the maniacal grins he gives the kids when they're all hanging out together - and it steals all of the breath from Steve's lungs. His heart races as the air around them shifts, and for once, it's out of excitement rather than anxiety.

Eddie's voice is devastatingly timid when he murmurs, "Stevie, can I kiss you?"

Steve feels like he could cry out of happiness. His answer is a simple nod, and when Eddie kisses him slowly, sweetly, chastely, Steve can feel any remaining anxiety melting away.

Because this kiss isn't a demand, or a prelude to all of those other activities that Steve wants but isn't sure he's quite ready for with Eddie, yet. It's not a challenge.

It's a promise - a promise that this thing that's been blossoming between them over the last few months is real. Wordlessly, Eddie vows to treat him with care, and Steve does the same in kind.

And it's perfect.

They take things slow - slower than Steve and Nancy did, and definitely slower than Steve's ever gone with anyone else. Steve doesn't ask for sex, now that he no longer has a persona to uphold, and Eddie doesn't push. They're both perfectly content to share soft kisses and quiet words while they lay tangled together in one of their beds with their pajamas on, for now.

It takes more than a month for Eddie to bring it up.

"Baby, can I ask you something?" Eddie asks quietly.

They're curled up in Steve's bed after a long day taking the kids swimming at the quarry, and neither of them have said much for the last half hour or so. Eddie has been flipping through one of his D&D books, and Steve has been laying with his head pillowed on Eddie's chest, listening to his boyfriend's occasional mutterings about tieflings and trolls and some sort of forest quest. He's not even sure Eddie realizes he mutters to himself while he reads, and that just makes Steve love it even more.

Steve just hums sleepily and props his chin on Eddie's sternum to look up at him, face immediately falling into a frown. Eddie looks contemplative and a little nervous, and Steve already hates whatever this conversation is going to be about. He doesn't like it when Eddie is upset. It breaks his heart every time.

Swallowing thickly, he pushes himself off of Eddie's chest so they can lay on their sides facing each other, hands tangling between them because they're always touching these days. "What's up, Eds?" Steve asks. He hopes his voice is encouraging and doesn't give away the anxiety beginning to roll in his stomach.

Eddie hesitates, face scrunching up adorably like it always does when he's thinking too hard about something.

"We don't have sex," Eddie finally blurts out unceremoniously.

Steve's heart plummets, but he tries to keep his tone light when he speaks. "Is there a question in that...?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie won't meet his eyes, and it makes Steve feel strangely off-kilter. Eddie hasn't been this skittish around him in months.

"I don't know, just... doesn't that bother you, or something?" he says finally.

Steve deflects. "Does it bother you?"

He's dreading Eddie's answer.

But he only dreads it for a moment, because Eddie's eyes go wide and apologetic immediately. "No! No, Stevie, I'm fine with what we've been doing," Eddie says quickly. "I mean, I want to do more, you know? But it's totally fine if you don't. I guess I'm just worried I'm... boring you?"

Steve's expression must be incredulous, because Eddie backtracks instantly.

"Wow, okay, that sounded way worse out loud than it did in my head. Jesus H. Christ," Eddie sighs.

"Why would you think you're boring me?" Steve asks, unable to let it go, because it's quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Eddie has ever said (and that is a high bar to clear). In what world could Eddie - funny, unpredictable, unbearably sweet Eddie - be boring?

Eddie winces, then shrugs. "I don't know, man, you're just..." He pauses; Steve waits. "You're Steve Harrington, you know? It's not exactly a secret that you got around while we were in school. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing!" Eddie clarifies. "Whatever you did before doesn't bother me because it doesn't matter anymore, right? But you obviously like having sex, and we obviously haven't done anything more than kiss yet, and I was just wondering if that bothered you, I guess..."

For a moment, Steve considers lying. He considers telling Eddie that it doesn't bother him, but that he's ready for more if Eddie is, because it sounds like Eddie might be, and Steve doesn't want to disappoint him. He's pretty sure he could have a decent enough time having sex with Eddie if that's what Eddie wants. He could bite the bullet in the name of keeping everything else - the amazing parts of this little thing between them that make every part of Steve's soul feel warm and comforted and held.

So, yeah. He considers it - lying and putting on a good face while he gives Eddie what everyone always seems to want from Steve Harrington - but then he meets Eddie's eyes and reconsiders.

Eddie's gaze is open and kind and nervous, not expectant. He looks vulnerable and more than a little self-conscious, and in that moment, Steve decides that he's not going to let this thing with Eddie meet the same uncomfortable end as all the others. If Eddie can be vulnerable, if Eddie can be open and honest, then Steve can meet him halfway and do the same.

"What if I don't?" he asks, voice weak and unsure. He sounds so small - like a child, almost - and he hates it.

Eddie frowns. "What if you don't what?"

"You said it was obvious that I liked having sex," Steve replies shakily. He can't quite meet Eddie's eyes, but he sees Eddie's hesitant nod out of the corner of his eye. "Well... what if I don't?"

Steve wonders if the silence that follows feels as deafening and suffocating to Eddie as it does to him.

"I don't understand..." Eddie says. His voice is soft, like he's afraid he might scare Steve away, and Steve realizes suddenly that his own hands are trembling.

"I-" he murmurs haltingly. "It's just... sex is sort of weird for me, sometimes." He pauses, then quietly adds, "Most of the time, actually." He chances a look at Eddie's face and immediately wishes he hadn't, because Eddie's frown is deep and concerned and Steve doesn't know how to fix it.

"Okay," Eddie says slowly, giving Steve's hands a reassuring squeeze. "Do you think you could tell me what you mean by that?"

And, well... Steve does his best to explain. He tells Eddie about the way he'd felt icky back in high school, whenever he hooked up with some random girl from his class. He tells Eddie that he'd wanted to have sex, but for some reason it always seemed to feel like something was off. Sometimes, it felt like something was missing. Other times, it felt like too much.

Steve tells him about the times when he felt wrong-footed and uncomfortable for hours afterwards, even long after the girl had left. He quietly recounts, with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, those few occasions that had made him feel so terrible he'd sat on the shower floor and cried until the hot water ran out, unable to wash the feeling away.

He tells Eddie everything - about those precious few times with Nancy when he'd felt normal, about his attempts after their breakup that made him feel weirdbadwrong once again, about his relief every time he scared a new girl off at Scoops with his purposefully dismal flirting.

Steve tells Eddie everything, and Eddie listens.

By the end, there are tear tracks on Steve's face, trailing downwards towards a small damp spot on his pillow, but Eddie takes it all in stride. He simply raises a hand to brush away the tears and presses his lips to Steve's forehead, all while thanking Steve for telling him, and assuring Steve that there's no pressure, with them. There's no timeline, no expectation of sex, and there never will be. Eddie is happy to wait as long as Steve needs, and if the time never comes, then that's alright, too.

The thought alone brings additional tears of relief to Steve's eyes, and he feels a part of his heart unclench when Eddie's arms wrap around him that night as they drift off to sleep, just as they've done most nights for the last month. He feels safe inside the cocoon of Eddie’s arms, in the knowledge that Eddie knows, now, and he’s not going anywhere. Any lingering anxiety dissipates entirely the following morning, when Eddie bitches and moans about being woken up for work, but still kisses Steve just as sweetly before he goes, no less adoring than the day before.

It gives Steve honest-to-God butterflies, and he feels a bit like a lovesick teenager when he watches Eddie pull out of the driveway that morning. He wonders if maybe they’ll just carry on as though nothing has changed at all.

In the end, things do change, but it doesn’t take long for Steve to realize they’ve changed for the better. Their conversation seems to have opened the door for the kind of vulnerability that Steve’s never had with anyone else before, and it’s nice. More than nice, actually. It comes with the sort of honesty and trust he’s longed for his entire life. It comes with sweet kisses that never become too insistent, and soft touches that never wander into unwanted places. For the first time, Steve can relax and let himself be cared for…let himself fall even deeper in love with Eddie Munson than he already is.

Things progress, despite remaining temporarily paused on the physical front. They tell Robin about their relationship, and after she’s done half-crying, half-laughing her way through congratulating them, she gives Eddie an astonishingly frightening shovel-talk. They tell Dustin a few days later, and then the rest of the kids and Nancy. They go on their first official date at the drive-in, where they can cuddle up without needing to worry about the prying eyes of the ignorant assholes who make up most of the population of Hawkins.

A little over a month after The Talk, Steve holds Eddie’s hand while Eddie tells his Uncle Wayne that they’re together, and after Wayne wraps Eddie up in the biggest bear-hug of all time, he does the same to Steve and assures him that as long as he never hurts Wayne’s boy, Steve will always be welcome in the Munson home. Steve doesn’t comment on the tears shining in Eddie’s eyes, but he holds Eddie extra tightly that night. Tells Eddie how proud he is. Wonders how much longer he’ll be able to stop himself from slipping up and confessing exactly how much he loves Eddie.

And one day, after months of chaste kisses and soft, conservative touches…Steve feels ready for more.

They start slow, at Eddie’s insistence and to Steve’s relief. At first, it’s nothing but the two of them laying in Eddie’s bed, jerking themselves off side by side. They’re barely touching, aside from the occasional brush of the arm, but Steve feels like he’s on fire in the best way. Eddie’s choked off gasps go straight to his dick, and they come within seconds of each other, too satisfied to be embarrassed about how quickly the whole thing happens.

The next night, when they get their hands on each other, Steve’s are trembling with nerves frayed from wondering if the icky weirdbadwrong feeling will rear its head. But Eddie’s voice is soft and soothing, and his touch is no less gentle than it always is when he wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock for the first time. Instead of the prickly, icy feeling he usually gets, Steve thinks that this feels perfect. Like slipping into a warm bath after a long day out in the cold. It doesn’t take long for him to forget all about his worry that it might feel wrong when he’s lost in Eddie’s whispered encouragement and soft touches.

He comes that night with Eddie’s name on his lips, and when his fingers tremble as he returns the favor for his boyfriend, it’s out of excitement, not fear.

Steve tells Eddie he loves him a little over a week later, after a Corroded Coffin show at the Hideout.

Eddie says it back.

And the icky feeling continues to stay away, for the most part.

Of course, there’s still a bit of a learning curve when it comes to their sex life. There are days when Steve feels detached - untethered to the world around him, like he’s just going through the motions of life - and he can’t do anything sexual without feeling a bit like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. And they never have sex when they’re angry with each other, because the one time they try, Steve breaks down halfway through, unable to shake the feeling of wrongness that courses through his veins like poison.

It’s a lot of trial and error, and many very honest conversations, but it works. Eddie is never pushy - never seems to get frustrated with Steve’s oddly fickle relationship with sex - and eventually, Steve stops getting frustrated with himself. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s not broken. He just is the way he is, and he doesn’t need to change that. Every once in a while, he wishes he knew someone else who felt like this, just to have someone to talk to, but it’s hard to feel lonely when he gets to fall asleep in Eddie’s arms every single night once they move in together in 1988.

Eventually, he sort of forgets about ever feeling broken in the first place, after years spent with a man who loves him unconditionally, exactly how he is.

Until a random day in the middle of June, 2015 when Eddie comes home from teaching guitar at the music center down the road with a pamphlet.

“Steve?” Eddie calls over the sound of the slamming screen door. Steve keeps meaning to replace the spring, so it won’t slam quite so hard every time, but every time he tries, he just gets distracted and forgets altogether.

“In here!” he replies from his place at the kitchen table, surrounded by dozens of middle school history essays.

Eddie comes striding into the kitchen with his guitar case slung over his shoulder and a half-nervous, half-excited grin on his face, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. It’s a habit from youth that he never quite shook, and Steve will never admit this out loud, but he finds it disgustingly adorable.

“Can I help you?” Steve asks with a slight smirk when Eddie just stares at him for a long moment.

Eddie blinks, then suddenly looks a bit sheepish as he takes a breath and pulls a folded-up pamphlet out of his jacket pocket. “So, uh…this might sound weird, but one of my students went to the Pride parade downtown with her girlfriend this weekend, and I told her to bring me a souvenir. And I was joking, obviously! Only…she brought me this random pamphlet she got from some vendor while she was there, also as a joke, and I was reading it because I was bored between lessons - Jeremy canceled because he has strep, or something - and it really wasn’t all that interesting, because, like, been there, done that, right? But-”

“Eddie,” Steve says, smirk dissolving into a fond smile. “You’re rambling, babe.”

“Right, yeah. That I am,” Eddie laughs nervously. He fidgets with the pamphlet, then abruptly holds it out for Steve to take.

Steve only hesitates for a moment before taking it and giving it a brief once-over. “Am I supposed to be-”

“Page five,” Eddie interrupts. His voice is soft, and fond, and a little nervous in a way it rarely is around Steve these days. Nearly thirty years of (unofficial) marriage has left little to be nervous about.

Steve stares at his husband, then flips open the little booklet to a page sporting a black, purple, grey, and white flag, and the word demisexuality. He frowns thoughtfully and pushes his reading glasses further up his nose as he begins to read the rest of the text on the page.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Eddie says softly, pulling up a chair so he can sit beside Steve. “But then I remembered that talk we had back when we first started dating…”

His voice trails off, but that’s okay. Steve already knows exactly what conversation Eddie is thinking about, because Steve is recalling it himself.

“There’s a word for it?” Steve’s voice comes out surprisingly fragile. Hopeful.

He can hear the smile in Eddie’s reply. “Yeah, sweetheart. Seems that way.”

“And there are…” Steve swallows down the tidal wave of emotion threatening to crash over him. “There are more people like me? It’s, like…a thing?”

“Sure is, baby,” Eddie says fondly, pressing a lingering kiss to Steve’s temple. “Got your own flag and everything!”

Steve chokes out a laugh just as the first tear falls down his cheek, and fuck, he can’t stop smiling. Because Eddie is right. There’s a word, and a community, and a goddamn flag. And yeah, maybe it’s been years since Steve last worried about the weirdbadwrong feeling he used to get so frequently when he was younger, but something inside of him feels like it’s settled into place. Like the final piece of a puzzle, pulled from beneath the couch years after the rest was completed: dusty and faded, almost forgotten, but a perfect fit nonetheless.

“Demisexual…” he murmurs reverently, tracing over the shape of the flag with his fingers. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks eagerly.

Through happy tears, Steve looks at the man who is his husband in everything but the eyes of the law. Eddie’s eyes are kind and excited - just like they always are - and God, Steve loves him. He’s loved him for decades, and he’s never going to stop.

“Yep,” Steve breathes, wrapping a hand around the back of Eddie’s head to pull him in for a slow kiss. “Love it,” he says. Another kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers in return.

The next year, Eddie’s students don’t need to bring him souvenirs from Pride, because he and Steve go together. They hold hands as they cheer on the parade, newly-acquired wedding rings (now that it’s been legalized in all fifty states) glinting in the sunlight, and Steve wonders if he’s ever been this happy before. He’s got his husband on one side, Robin and her wife on the other, and a flag of black, purple, grey, and white painted on one cheek.

The feeling is electric.

It’s perfect.

And Steve has never, ever been more certain that there’s nothing icky or wrong about it.

[fckyouiwontdowhatyoutellme]

Oh my god I love you for this🥺its so fucking sweet

CWs: discussions of sexuality (particularly demisexuality, though Steve and Eddie don’t know a term for it at the time), VERY mild sexual context

Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.

He's not, like, trying to brag about it, or anything. Frankly, he's not even sure it's something he would want to brag about in the first place. It's just an objective fact.

The sky is blue. The Earth is round. Water is wet.

And Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.

Which is...well, a little bit bizarre, considering the fact that he's not entirely convinced he actually enjoys it most of the time.

At first, he chalks it up to inexperience. Everyone's first times were a little bit awkward, weren't they? Maybe everyone felt weird and a little bit off-kilter the first time someone touched them like that. Maybe everyone felt icky for hours afterwards, like something was just off. Steve had spent his childhood going to church on Sundays (at least, until he turned 10, and Richard and Susan decided he no longer needed luxuries like parents), so maybe it was just guilt.

That was a thing, right? Catholic guilt, or whatever? He'll get over it. He's sure of it.

Only...he's less sure of it several months later, when he still can't get rid of that stupid icky feeling, and he can never quite grasp what Tommy is talking about whenever the dude starts obsessing over wanting to fuck some pretty actress in whatever movie they’re watching. When he’s with a girl, he feels anxious the moment clothes start to come off, despite the fact that he wants this. He wants to have sex. He wants someone to touch him and make him feel good. He wants to do the same for someone else. But it always feels wrong.

The only part he really likes is what comes after, when he can wrap his arms around whatever girl he's with that week and just hold her - no more sex required, now that it's over and done with. That part feels good. Amazing, even. He loves having someone to cuddle up with - to make him feel less alone in his fucking mausoleum of a house. It's nice. It feels good.

He's pretty sure it's the only reason he keeps having sex in the first place. It's like a transaction. Steve gets the girls off, and in exchange, they stick around for a little while afterwards to fill the echoing silence of Steve's house with soft laughter and quiet words.

And sure...sometimes Steve sort of falls apart after they leave to get home before their curfews. Usually, it just leaves him feeling squirmy and anxious. But sometimes, when it's especially bad, Steve sits on the floor of the shower with his arms around his knees for ages and cries until the water gets cold, unable to wash the icky feeling away.

He knows he should stop doing this to himself, but God, he's so fucking lonely, and now he's made a reputation for himself. Now there are expectations, and if Steve has learned one thing from Richard Harrington, it's that living up to expectations is the most important thing in life.

So he keeps doing it. His technique gets better, despite how wrong he feels, and the girls keep coming. And Steve keeps wondering what the fuck is wrong with him - why he feels physically pleasured enough to come most of the times, but always hates himself afterwards.

Then, at the beginning of his junior year, he starts dating Nancy Wheeler.

He knows right away that this feels different from any of his other flings. Nancy is sweet, and smart, and just a bit of a firecracker, and Steve loves it. Even better, she doesn't try to get him into bed on their first date, or their second, or even their third. It's not until the pool party that things take a more intimate turn between them, and by then, Steve is smitten.

He waits for the ick to kick in while he caresses her and kisses her everywhere - waits for the feeling of weirdbadwrong to make itself known - but this time... it doesn't. This time, Steve looks down at his partner and is stunned by how beautiful she looks. It's never been like this with any of the other girls - he's never wanted any of them quite like this - and for the first time, Steve really, genuinely enjoys having sex.

There's no ick; no uncomfortable feeling in his belly that sort of makes him feel ill. There's just Nancy, who looks and sounds beautiful, and smiles at him as they doze off together afterwards. It's amazing. It's perfect.

Steve thinks that maybe he's normal, after all.

He should know better than to get his hopes up, by now.

The next year is a whirlwind of absolute insanity. There are monsters, and alternate dimensions, and little kids with honest-to-God superpowers, and funerals... and sex becomes the least of Steve's worries.

He and Nancy are only intimate a handful of other times, after that first night (it's hard to get in the mood when all either of them can think about is how the first time they did this, her best friend was dying), and despite everything else going on, the ick, at least, stays away. It seems to be proof that Steve isn't broken or weird. He just needed some time to get used to sex.

He realizes how wrong he is the first time he tries to hook up with someone after Nancy breaks his heart, when the ick comes back. After that, he only tries once more, and then he just stops trying to score entirely... pretends he's just lost his touch and feels secretly relieved every time Robin Buckley puts a tally under the "You Suck" side of the whiteboard in the back room.

It goes on like this until March of 1986, when Eddie Munson comes barrelling into his life and changes everything.

His relationship with Eddie is unlike any he's ever had. They start out as tentative friends after everything with Vecna is finally over, and then it grows from there.

They hang out with the kids at Steve's place, which eventually turns into them hanging out without the kids. They talk about the weather, and the Upside Down, and music, and DnD campaigns. Anything and everything that comes to mind. Eddie tells Steve how he came to live with Wayne, and in return, Steve tells Eddie about his parents - about how he sometimes feels like he's haunting his own home.

(Eddie starts making excuses to stay the night more often, after that conversation, and Steve doesn't mention it, but he notices.)

And one day he looks over at Eddie, who's talking animatedly to El while Steve pops popcorn for their movie night, and suddenly, it hits him like a goddamn truck.

Eddie Munson is beautiful.

Steve can barely breathe as the realization takes hold, because he's not used to seeing people this way. He can appreciate when someone is objectively attractive, sure, but he rarely looks at someone and wants like this. He rarely looks at a person and wonders what their lips would feel like against his own, or what sort of sounds they make when they come, or what they'd look like with Steve's love bites riddling their skin...

He's only looked at one other person this way before: Nancy, after they'd been dating for a few weeks and had gotten to know each other better.

He's so shocked by the sheer amount of wanting he's feeling for Eddie that he blows right past the gay panic part of his bisexual awakening, straight into bumbling idiot with a crush territory.

And really, it must be obvious, because two weeks later, Eddie's gaze locks onto Steve's while they're sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, and Eddie smiles. It's a soft, gentle thing - so different from the maniacal grins he gives the kids when they're all hanging out together - and it steals all of the breath from Steve's lungs. His heart races as the air around them shifts, and for once, it's out of excitement rather than anxiety.

Eddie's voice is devastatingly timid when he murmurs, "Stevie, can I kiss you?"

Steve feels like he could cry out of happiness. His answer is a simple nod, and when Eddie kisses him slowly, sweetly, chastely, Steve can feel any remaining anxiety melting away.

Because this kiss isn't a demand, or a prelude to all of those other activities that Steve wants but isn't sure he's quite ready for with Eddie, yet. It's not a challenge.

It's a promise - a promise that this thing that's been blossoming between them over the last few months is real. Wordlessly, Eddie vows to treat him with care, and Steve does the same in kind.

And it's perfect.

They take things slow - slower than Steve and Nancy did, and definitely slower than Steve's ever gone with anyone else. Steve doesn't ask for sex, now that he no longer has a persona to uphold, and Eddie doesn't push. They're both perfectly content to share soft kisses and quiet words while they lay tangled together in one of their beds with their pajamas on, for now.

It takes more than a month for Eddie to bring it up.

"Baby, can I ask you something?" Eddie asks quietly.

They're curled up in Steve's bed after a long day taking the kids swimming at the quarry, and neither of them have said much for the last half hour or so. Eddie has been flipping through one of his D&D books, and Steve has been laying with his head pillowed on Eddie's chest, listening to his boyfriend's occasional mutterings about tieflings and trolls and some sort of forest quest. He's not even sure Eddie realizes he mutters to himself while he reads, and that just makes Steve love it even more.

Steve just hums sleepily and props his chin on Eddie's sternum to look up at him, face immediately falling into a frown. Eddie looks contemplative and a little nervous, and Steve already hates whatever this conversation is going to be about. He doesn't like it when Eddie is upset. It breaks his heart every time.

Swallowing thickly, he pushes himself off of Eddie's chest so they can lay on their sides facing each other, hands tangling between them because they're always touching these days. "What's up, Eds?" Steve asks. He hopes his voice is encouraging and doesn't give away the anxiety beginning to roll in his stomach.

Eddie hesitates, face scrunching up adorably like it always does when he's thinking too hard about something.

"We don't have sex," Eddie finally blurts out unceremoniously.

Steve's heart plummets, but he tries to keep his tone light when he speaks. "Is there a question in that...?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie won't meet his eyes, and it makes Steve feel strangely off-kilter. Eddie hasn't been this skittish around him in months.

"I don't know, just... doesn't that bother you, or something?" he says finally.

Steve deflects. "Does it bother you?"

He's dreading Eddie's answer.

But he only dreads it for a moment, because Eddie's eyes go wide and apologetic immediately. "No! No, Stevie, I'm fine with what we've been doing," Eddie says quickly. "I mean, I want to do more, you know? But it's totally fine if you don't. I guess I'm just worried I'm... boring you?"

Steve's expression must be incredulous, because Eddie backtracks instantly.

"Wow, okay, that sounded way worse out loud than it did in my head. Jesus H. Christ," Eddie sighs.

"Why would you think you're boring me?" Steve asks, unable to let it go, because it's quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Eddie has ever said (and that is a high bar to clear). In what world could Eddie - funny, unpredictable, unbearably sweet Eddie - be boring?

Eddie winces, then shrugs. "I don't know, man, you're just..." He pauses; Steve waits. "You're Steve Harrington, you know? It's not exactly a secret that you got around while we were in school. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing!" Eddie clarifies. "Whatever you did before doesn't bother me because it doesn't matter anymore, right? But you obviously like having sex, and we obviously haven't done anything more than kiss yet, and I was just wondering if that bothered you, I guess..."

For a moment, Steve considers lying. He considers telling Eddie that it doesn't bother him, but that he's ready for more if Eddie is, because it sounds like Eddie might be, and Steve doesn't want to disappoint him. He's pretty sure he could have a decent enough time having sex with Eddie if that's what Eddie wants. He could bite the bullet in the name of keeping everything else - the amazing parts of this little thing between them that make every part of Steve's soul feel warm and comforted and held.

So, yeah. He considers it - lying and putting on a good face while he gives Eddie what everyone always seems to want from Steve Harrington - but then he meets Eddie's eyes and reconsiders.

Eddie's gaze is open and kind and nervous, not expectant. He looks vulnerable and more than a little self-conscious, and in that moment, Steve decides that he's not going to let this thing with Eddie meet the same uncomfortable end as all the others. If Eddie can be vulnerable, if Eddie can be open and honest, then Steve can meet him halfway and do the same.

"What if I don't?" he asks, voice weak and unsure. He sounds so small - like a child, almost - and he hates it.

Eddie frowns. "What if you don't what?"

"You said it was obvious that I liked having sex," Steve replies shakily. He can't quite meet Eddie's eyes, but he sees Eddie's hesitant nod out of the corner of his eye. "Well... what if I don't?"

Steve wonders if the silence that follows feels as deafening and suffocating to Eddie as it does to him.

"I don't understand..." Eddie says. His voice is soft, like he's afraid he might scare Steve away, and Steve realizes suddenly that his own hands are trembling.

"I-" he murmurs haltingly. "It's just... sex is sort of weird for me, sometimes." He pauses, then quietly adds, "Most of the time, actually." He chances a look at Eddie's face and immediately wishes he hadn't, because Eddie's frown is deep and concerned and Steve doesn't know how to fix it.

"Okay," Eddie says slowly, giving Steve's hands a reassuring squeeze. "Do you think you could tell me what you mean by that?"

And, well... Steve does his best to explain. He tells Eddie about the way he'd felt icky back in high school, whenever he hooked up with some random girl in his class. He tells Eddie that he'd wanted to have sex, but for some reason it always seemed to feel like something was off. Sometimes, it felt like something was missing. Other times, it felt like too much.

Steve tells him about the times when he felt wrong-footed and uncomfortable for hours afterwards, even long after the girl had left. He quietly recounts, with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, those few occasions that had made him feel so terrible he'd sat on the shower floor and cried until the hot water ran out, unable to wash the feeling away.

He tells Eddie everything - about those precious few times with Nancy when he'd felt normal, about his attempts after their breakup that made him feel weirdbadwrong once again, about his relief every time he scared a new girl off at Scoops with his purposefully dismal flirting.

Steve tells Eddie everything, and Eddie listens.

By the end, there are tear tracks on Steve's face, trailing downwards towards a small damp spot on his pillow, but Eddie takes it all in stride. He simply raises a hand to brush away the tears and presses his lips to Steve's forehead, all while thanking Steve for telling him, and assuring Steve that there's no pressure, with them. There's no timeline, no expectation of sex, and there never will be. Eddie is happy to wait as long as Steve needs, and if the time never comes, then that's alright, too.

The thought alone brings additional tears of relief to Steve's eyes, and he feels a part of his heart unclench when Eddie's arms wrap around him that night as they drift off to sleep, just as they've done most nights for the last month. He feels safe inside the cocoon of Eddie’s arms, in the knowledge that Eddie knows, now, and he’s not going anywhere. Any lingering anxiety dissipates entirely the following morning, when Eddie bitches and moans about being woken up for work, but still kisses Steve just as sweetly before he goes, no less adoring than the day before.

It gives Steve honest-to-God butterflies, and he feels a bit like a lovesick teenager when he watches Eddie pull out of the driveway that morning. He wonders if maybe they’ll just carry on as though nothing has changed at all.

In the end, things do change, but it doesn’t take long for Steve to realize they’ve changed for the better. Their conversation seems to have opened the door for the kind of vulnerability that Steve’s never had with anyone else before, and it’s nice. More than nice, actually. It comes with the sort of honesty and trust he’s longed for his entire life. It comes with sweet kisses that never become too insistent, and soft touches that never wander into unwanted places. For the first time, Steve can relax and let himself be cared for…let himself fall even deeper in love with Eddie Munson than he already is.

Things progress, despite remaining temporarily paused on the physical front. They tell Robin about their relationship, and after she’s done half-crying, half-laughing her way through congratulating them, she gives Eddie an astonishingly frightening shovel-talk. They tell Dustin a few days later, and then the rest of the kids and Nancy. They go on their first official date at the drive-in, where they can cuddle up without needing to worry about the prying eyes of the ignorant assholes who make up most of the population of Hawkins.

A little over a month after The Talk, Steve holds Eddie’s hand while Eddie tells his Uncle Wayne that they’re together, and after Wayne wraps Eddie up in the biggest bear-hug of all time, he does the same to Steve and assures him that as long as he never hurts Wayne’s boy, Steve will always be welcome in the Munson home. Steve doesn’t comment on the tears shining in Eddie’s eyes, but he holds Eddie extra tightly that night. Tells Eddie how proud he is. Wonders how much longer he’ll be able to stop himself from slipping up and confessing exactly how much he loves Eddie.

And one day, after months of chaste kisses and soft, conservative touches…Steve feels ready for more.

They start slow, at Eddie’s insistence and to Steve’s relief. At first, it’s nothing but the two of them laying in Eddie’s bed, jerking themselves off side by side. They’re barely touching, aside from the occasional brush of the arm, but Steve feels like he’s on fire in the best way. Eddie’s choked off gasps go straight to his dick, and they come within seconds of each other, too satisfied to be embarrassed about how quickly the whole thing happens.

The next night, when they get their hands on each other, Steve’s are trembling with nerves frayed from wondering if the icky weirdbadwrong feeling will rear its head. But Eddie’s voice is soft and soothing, and his touch is no less gentle than it always is when he wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock for the first time. Instead of the prickly, icy feeling he usually gets, Steve thinks that this feels perfect. Like slipping into a warm bath after a long day out in the cold. It doesn’t take long for him to forget all about his worry that it might feel wrong when he’s lost in Eddie’s whispered encouragement and soft touches.

He comes that night with Eddie’s name on his lips, and when his fingers tremble as he returns the favor for his boyfriend, it’s out of excitement, not fear.

Steve tells Eddie he loves him a little over a week later, after a Corroded Coffin show at the Hideout.

Eddie says it back.

And the icky feeling continues to stay away, for the most part.

Of course, there’s still a bit of a learning curve when it comes to their sex life. There are days when Steve feels detached - untethered to the world around him, like he’s just going through the motions of life - and he can’t do anything sexual without feeling a bit like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. And they never have sex when they’re angry with each other, because the one time they try, Steve breaks down halfway through, unable to shake the feeling of wrongness that courses through his veins like poison.

It’s a lot of trial and error, and many very honest conversations, but it works. Eddie is never pushy - never seems to get frustrated with Steve’s oddly fickle relationship with sex - and eventually, Steve stops getting frustrated with himself. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s not broken. He just is the way he is, and he doesn’t need to change that. Every once in a while, he wishes he knew someone else who felt like this, just to have someone to talk to, but it’s hard to feel lonely when he gets to fall asleep in Eddie’s arms every single night once they move in together in 1988.

Eventually, he sort of forgets about ever feeling broken in the first place, after years spent with a man who loves him unconditionally, exactly how he is.

Until a random day in the middle of June, 2015 when Eddie comes home from teaching guitar at the music center down the road with a pamphlet.

“Steve?” Eddie calls over the sound of the slamming screen door. Steve keeps meaning to replace the spring, so it won’t slam quite so hard every time, but everytime he tries, he just gets distracted and forgets altogether.

“In here!” he replies from his place at the kitchen table, surrounded by dozens of middle school history essays.

Eddie comes striding into the kitchen with his guitar case slung over his shoulder and a half-nervous, half-excited grin on his face, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. It’s a habit from youth that he never quite shook, and Steve will never admit this out loud, but he finds it disgustingly adorable.

“Can I help you?” Steve asks with a slight smirk when Eddie just stares at him for a long moment.

Eddie blinks, then suddenly looks a bit sheepish as he takes a breath and pulls a folded-up pamphlet out of his jacket pocket. “So, uh…this might sound weird, but one of my students went to the Pride parade downtown with her girlfriend this weekend, and I told her to bring me a souvenir. And I was joking, obviously! Only…she brought me this random pamphlet she got from some vendor while she was there, also as a joke, and I was reading it because I was bored between lessons - Jeremy canceled because he has strep, or something - and it really wasn’t all that interesting, because, like, been there, done that, right? But-”

“Eddie,” Steve says, smirk dissolving into a fond smile. “You’re rambling, babe.”

“Right, yeah. That I am,” Eddie laughs nervously. He fidgets with the pamphlet, then abruptly holds it out for Steve to take.

Steve only hesitates for a moment before taking it and giving it a brief once-over. “Am I supposed to be-”

“Page five,” Eddie interrupts. His voice is soft, and fond, and a little nervous in a way it rarely is around Steve these days. Nearly thirty years of (unofficial) marriage has left little to be nervous about.

Steve stares at his husband, then flips open the little booklet to a page sporting a black, purple, grey, and white flag, and the word demisexuality. He frowns thoughtfully and pushes his reading glasses further up his nose as he begins to read the rest of the text on the page.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Eddie says softly, pulling up a chair so he can sit beside Steve. “But then I remembered that talk we had back when we first started dating…”

His voice trails off, but that’s okay. Steve already knows exactly what conversation Eddie is thinking about, because Steve is recalling it himself.

“There’s a word for it?” Steve’s voice comes out surprisingly fragile. Hopeful.

He can hear the smile in Eddie’s reply. “Yeah, sweetheart. Seems that way.”

“And there are…” Steve swallows down the tidal wave of emotion threatening to crash over him. “There are more people like me? It’s, like…a thing?”

“Sure is, baby,” Eddie says fondly, pressing a lingering kiss to Steve’s temple. “Got your own flag and everything!”

Steve chokes out a laugh just as the first tear falls down his cheek, and fuck, he can’t stop smiling. Because Eddie is right. There’s a word, and a community, and a goddamn flag. And yeah, maybe it’s been years since Steve last worried about the weirdbadwrong feeling he used to get so frequently when he was younger, but something inside of him feels like it’s settled into place. Like the final piece of a puzzle, pulled from beneath the couch years after the rest was completed: dusty and faded, almost forgotten, but a perfect fit nonetheless.

“Demisexual…” he murmurs reverently, tracing over the shape of the flag with his fingers. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks eagerly.

Through happy tears, Steve looks at the man who is his husband in everything but the eyes of the law. Eddie’s eyes are kind and excited - just like they always are - and God, Steve loves him. He’s loved him for decades, and he’s never going to stop.

“Yep,” Steve breathes, wrapping a hand around the back of Eddie’s head to pull him in for a slow kiss. “Love it,” he says. Another kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers in return.

The next year, Eddie’s students don’t need to bring him souvenirs from Pride, because he and Steve go together. They hold hands as they cheer on the parade, newly-acquired wedding rings (now that it’s been legalized in all fifty states) glinting in the sunlight, and Steve wonders if he’s ever been this happy before. He’s got his husband on one side, Robin and her wife on the other, and a flag of black, purple, grey, and white painted on one cheek.

The feeling is electric.

It’s perfect.

And Steve has never, ever been more certain that there’s nothing icky or wrong about it.