#dorky!eddie

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[caroandcats]

Buddie + ao3 tags || 7x09

[hitlikehammers]

Steddie Wrong Blind Date AU 💜

what if you meet the wrong love of your life?

He doesn’t know how the fuck he got here. At a very nice bar in a very nice restaurant.

Sitting alone.

Or well: he knows. It’s more that he can’t believe he let it happen.

Again.

Because Steve had finally (finally!) made sufficient enough threats logical arguments to curb Robin’s attempts—well-meaning, dingus, well meaning attempts!—to set him up with so-and-so’s cousin or whoever-the-fuck’s roommate. The blind dates had actually been his first successful method to ultimately shoot down, on the basis that they weren’t just fucking humiliating: they were goddamn degrading.

For reasons such as his current situation.

And of all the things Robin desired for him, they both knew she’d never knowingly cause him pain. So that left him working with awkward introductions at parties, sometimes at completely random places even, like too-weird-to-be-coincidence run-ins at the grocery store and shit, where Robin just so happened to be shopping when both her targets were there. It was borderline frightening, but. It was very Robin. And Steve adored her more than anything and struggled too much to stay mad at her—he’s definitely tried his damnedest, more than once—so. He knows her intentions come from the heart, regardless of how disastrously they pan out in reality.

Which is why Steve is allowing this once—and only once—because he’s not stupid, but. He appreciates the ingenuity.

And getting your girlfriend to make the blind date pitch was…technically honoring his rules.

So. He’s allowing this to slide once. Once. One time.

One. More. Time.

And he’s already got his justification, fucking iron clad too, to call it on sight. Failed attempt, the guy’s already twenty minutes late and that’s…that’s past fashionable, really, especially for a set up like this. He glances at his phone, just to see if he’s got anything from Chrissy as an update—Steve loves her, and Robin adores her, and that’s the only reason he’s not spending the minutes he waits, sipping stupidly-slow at the same tequila sunrise, plotting revenge against her for being so gullible, so willing to not merely enact Robin’s last-gasp efforts but to participate, actively, because apparently tonight’s ’perfect match, he’s so your type!’ was Chrissy’s suggestion—but there’s nothing. Just the last message from an hour ago reassuring him against backing out in the first place:

he’s tall, dark, handsome, 100% your type. maybe a little *theatrical*: you’ll LOVE him 💕

Steve didn’t, and still doesn’t, understand what she means by theatrical, and honestly he’s kinda wary for it—he doesn’t like playing games when it comes to romance: he’s too all-in, and too quickly, for any of that.

Which also means that, as much as he thinks it’s a fucking laughable sham to have agreed to this, and as much as he’d walked in knowing that, knowing he was entertaining the farce against his own will: it still…doesn’t sting, exactly. But it definitely squeezes uncomfortably in his chest for no good reason that he’s been fucking stood up and yeah, yeah, that means it’s time to—

He reaches for his drink and notices it’s empty. Just another sign, really, so he move to gesture the bartender over to pay but—

Someone’s got a better angle, actually gets the guy’s attention before Steve can even try—a someone sitting two empty chairs down who lifts his glass for another, then gestures the exact same way with an empty toward Steve’s sad glass of ice.

“On mine,” he tips his chin Steve’s direction before the bartender grabs Steve’s glass along with the stranger’s and makes for refills, then it’s just the stranger turning the whole of his body around on the stool to face…Steve.

“For the handsome nobleman,” and he says it with a stilted lilt that’s somehow not disingenuous, and it’s odd, to put it mildly, paired with a little bow of his head that definitely matches the affected voice but also definitely gives the stranger a perfect window to run his gaze up and down Steve’s seated frame—it’s a good move, Steve can’t even deny it, no matter how…weird.

But…also, there’s a warmth in it? Maybe in the gaze, something that’s not just heat, or maybe in the tone that’s not just putting on a show.

Something.

“In fact I do say the very handsome nobleman doth sit alone beyond comprehension,” the stranger seems to correct himself, and the way his lips curl, wider and then pull back a little, like he hesitates, like he’s maybe bolder than this in other situations but is reserving himself just a touch for here and now—and goddamn but this is pretty fucking bold already, whatever it actually is:

“And he deserves plentiful libations,” and Steve didn’t even notice the new drink on the counter until the stranger reaches, tips precariously on his stool, and slides the glass closer before nodding toward it, almost like another little bow: “in his tarrying.”

Steve stares wordless for a second because, outside of that weird fucking Renaissance Fair thing the kids dragged him to, he’s never heard anyone talk like that. So the setting’s all fucked up because this is Manhattan, at a not-particularly-inexpensive bistro type venue, definitely devoid of turkey legs.

Plus the guy in question doesn’t quite look the part—gorgeous curls to the shoulders, facial structure to kill a man, legs for days draped down the stool and dressed in shades of black top to bottom, from the button up in charcoal fucking silk, to the weirdly-suited boots that might have a steel toe hiding or might just be playing, the only color on him the pout of his lips and the slight flush visible in the low bar light brushed over his cheeks before he leans a little closer, eyes maybe the darkest thing about him and kinda goddamn mesmerizing for it, especially for how they somehow tiptoe along a fine line between almost disorienting focus on Steve and Steve alone, and something close to hesitant, or maybe more bashful when he clears his throat and asks:

“Perhaps this very handsome nobleman would also enjoy some company,” and his tone’s not even playing coy about being hopeful, before he full-on lays a palm to his chest in old-fashioned apology as his lashes flutter a little and he goes all self-deprecating, and genuine in it, as he adds in that same bashfulness:

“Even if only that of a humble bard, such as myself?”

And Steve’s not above being wholesale dumbstruck for a good second, like his hearing goes tunneled and his pulse echoes for the narrowing: this man is unreal.

Very…theatrical. One-hundred percent his type. Two-hundred percent, even. Jesus.

So Steve’s quiet for a second, but he’s not known for his charm because he can’t bounce back quicker than average, certainly quicker than risking that gorgeous face falling for the dashing for the hope painted open all over it, not a stroke of artifice in sight.

Steve’s not even trying when he fucking feels his own automatic walls start to slip as he leans, meets the man move for move so they can hear each other close as the bar starts to fill a little more:

“Only if I can get the next round,” and if Steve purrs it, it’s a reflex; if it darkens those already depthless eyes, well. He’s close enough to appreciate the swell of the pupil, the deepening of the flush on those cheeks.

If Steve’s heart jumps a little, there’s not a soul who can call him out for it; tree in the woods with no one to hear it fall.

But it does. It so does.

The man does an adorable little shimmy across the seats between them, taking the one closest to Steve and then doing a little scootching of even that to settle all the closer, and it shouldn’t be endearing, but Steve feels like he can bet on his ribs being sore by the end of whatever this is, or ends up being, just for the swelling beneath them already underway.

“If my request is being so highly honored, so as to join you,” the man takes a little bundle of his curls and drags them across the corner of his lips before tucking it back and…Steve has the immediate urge to have done it for him instead, what the hell, too fucking soon, man—

“Does his majesty have a name?”

It takes Steve a couple long seconds to register that the man means him, though it doesn’t escape Steve that the reference, while it took a while to land? Never for an instant felt like it did in high school, or even shortly after. It felt…warm.

“Steve,” he says with a smile, more twisting his palm than extending his hand to shake given their proximity; “and you, my,” Steve licks his lips then presses them tight around a grin before choosing his words: “very odd but very endearing bard, was it?”

“It was, indeed,” the man lights up near fluorescent; “I’m Eddie.”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, or the way he takes Steve’s hand. But…Jesus.

It’s…a really good name.

“Then tell me, Eddie,” Steve doesn’t let go of the hand in his, their touches just slowly slide apart and it feels…like a loss but not a crushing one, Eddie’s still close enough to feel the heat of him.

“Unless I’m totally off, I think I know from exposure, not playing, that a bard’s a musician, yeah?” Or is it a storyteller, or maybe both, there’s a good fucking reason he never have in to playing the nerd game—

“Tell me what makes you introduce yourself like that right off the bat, then.”

And Eddie glows for the opening, the invitation, and the thing is? He doesn’t stop; he’s like a star unto himself, shining and bathing Steve in the glimmer as he talks about music, about growing up in a house of it, about it being tough sometimes but his mother took him to live with his uncle, the three of them and then it was easier and there was also more music, new music, and he tells Steve about bands he’s played in, joined and left, guitars he’s loved and lost, the whole shipping boxes he has piled with full notebooks of lyrics and ideas from years upon years; and then he pivots, or maybe that’s not even it, because what he really does is test the waters around where Steve thought the bard reference came from in the first place—the nerd game. Steve confesses he was a mostly an unwilling bystander but it was probably more because he didn’t get it, and honestly his reluctance was more for show than anything, he loved what his kids loved at the end of the day, what made them happy—which left Steve explaining the kids, explaining Robin, explaining his family in a way Steve hasn’t done in relationships that lasted months, let alone first conversations on very first dates.

He should be terrified. He isn’t.

He should be terrified of the isn’t. And…and yet.

“My turn for a question,” Eddie fills the first soft lull in conversation, one that stretches taffy-sweet and almost kinda giddy; Steve doesn’t even know what he’s feeling because he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt it before, like, ever—all he knows is that it’s kind of fucking fantastic, like something he already never wants to let go of. So of course he nods, welcomes Eddie’s turns for a question even if it doesn’t seem entirely necessary; the back-and-forths sliding so natural, so balanced.

“Why the choice of drink?”

Eddie nods at the glass almost empty in his hand while Steve squints and laughs a little.

“What?” Steve asks because he doesn’t understand, sure, but also because the unpredictability, alongside the sheer earnestness of this man is…it’s disarming in the best fucking way. Like maybe Steve’s falling but he never wants to stop and—

Too soon, too fucking soon even if that’s not what he meant, exactly; he thought it, and it’s too fucking soon—

“Everyone has a reason for ordering a drink,” Eddie explains with a grin that pops those delicious dimples; “habit, by which there’s a story of the first time you tried it,” he ticks off on his nimble looking fingers, the rings on them catching the lights; “spontaneity, by which there’s a tale of what inspired it,” and fuck, they’re so long, those fingers, Steve kinda wonders how many knuckles he could fit in his mouth; “memories, by which there’s something poking at them.”

Eddie pauses, takes Steve in, no doubt sees Steve hanging onto, damn near salivating over his every word even as he swallows and takes a breath to collect himself as discreetly as he’s capable; it just makes those dimples divot deeper.

“I could go on,” Eddie offers, a little sly in his smile, the knowing kind, but his tone is soft, like maybe Steve’s not the only one feeling…things. And maybe Eddie wants him to know it. Maybe so that he’s not alone. Maybe because they both fucking like it. Maybe—

“Habit,” Steve answers, unable to keep from smiling around the rim of his glass when he takes a sip. “I got sick on shots and swore off straight tequila, but I was always up for the, y’know, frou-frou drinks,” he swirls the maybe-two-swallows left for show: “so long as it tasted good I didn’t give a shit, y’know, and then a,” Steve pauses a second, wonders how best to describe that particular figure from his past before settling on:

“An old friend, told me once,” and then Steve pauses again, this time because he can feel the rush of heat to his cheeks because oh, shit, now he’s backed himself into having to say it—

“Oh, now you have to share,” Eddie coaxes, a singsong in his voice and a wide-eyed wonder to him, something like genuine investment in what comes next, what’s next in something solely about Steve, that almost soothes the embarrassment;

“Unless you’re displaying the answer with this,” and Eddie only just brushes the flat of his fingernail to Steve’s cheekbone, too quick to appreciate the shiver it sends down Steve’s spine, through his fucking veins, that’s not helped one bit by Eddie murmuring, a little sensual, but somehow also a little dazed, a little starry-eyed when he breathes out:

“Blush like the sunrise.”

And if he wasn’t already, fuck knows Steve is now.

He misses Eddie’s touch against it, too. Even so fleeting. Wishes he were bold enough, or foolish enough, to grab Eddie’s hand and let him feel what he’s doing, the heat in him. The way his blood rushes.

He’s not, because that’s fucking insane and way too much too soon, but.

Wanting doesn’t play by those rules.

“Almost,” Steve picks up the glass and swirls it again; “he said I was like sunshine,” Steve recalls with a little grin—it’s a softer memory now than it used to be. He laughs a little and downs the last of what’s left of his drink. “Think it was more because of a yellow sweater I wore way too much at the time, but,” and he places the empty down and so he doesn’t see it coming until it happens: Eddie’s hand. On his hand, on the glass.

“No.”

Steve looks up, barely breathes. Eddie has soft hands.

“No, I think it was more than that, Sunshine,” Eddie tells him, honest and certain and a little breathless and Steve’s of two equal minds: he’s never been so aroused. But he’s also never felt so seen.

And wanted.

“Another?” Eddie asks, but his eyes don’t leave Steve’s to look at their drinks, to be anywhere but in this moment, here with him.

“You’re sure?” Steve makes himself ask it, doesn’t bother forcing himself to sound anything but pulling for one answer and one answer alone. “Don’t have somewhere better to be?”

“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Eddie does look away then, but down at their hands, strokes his thumb a little down where Steve’s wrist starts to curve. “And I’m struggling just now to think of anywhere better than right here.”

And then Eddie’s placing his fingers between Steve’s, just resting them in the middle spaces: they’d fit. So well.

They…will. They will fit fucking gloriously.

“My round, then,” though Steve’s lost count if they’re even, how many drinks they’ve actually had—not too many, he’s pleasantly buzzed at best and maybe more on the company than anything else if he’s honest, but he likewise doesn’t know how long they’re been there, sipping between baring their fucking souls in the most mundane ways that…

That Steve thinks have started to kindle something in him. Started to breathe life into a part of him he didn’t know was dormant, forgot he could feel until it started unfurling like this, deep in his chest.

“Need something to cut through the sugar,” he says idly, but he doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s breath catches when Steve tightens his fingers to catch Eddie’s before letting go, sliding the glass forward so the bartender can see and then he orders: “The Glenlivet 14,” he points; “neat,” then he glances at Eddie’s glass of melting ice—he’s been on Black Russians the whole time;

“Keeping at it, or something new?”

“You make a compelling argument for easing up the sweet,” Eddie cocks his head, taps his chin consideringly; “especially when you’re agreeing to remain as my company,” he shoots over a heated glance and a smile too big to be as wicked as Steve thinks Eddie might have aimed for but it doesn’t matter, it has the same bewitching, pulse-stuttering effect either way.

“Bulleit Rye, on the rocks,” Eddie taps his glass with a certain finality.

“A man after my own heart,” Steve comments with a nod; it’s a good order. He doesn’t think about the words themselves before they come out.

“And if I wanted to be?”

And then Steve thinks about the words with every goddamn cell in his body, like his blood repeats them and the electricity that works his brain as much as his heart is making little lightning storms around the comment, then the question, and then the implication because Steve…

Steve’s never wanted anything more. Steve’s never been offered anything even close and here’s this man? And he can’t be saying what Steve..thinks he has to be saying because what else can those words mean—

“Too quick?” Eddie pulls back the slightest bit and Steve misses him immediately; “I usually am, I’m so—“

Steve misses him, and will not have him doubting because Steve knows that feeling intimately, knows this man deserves none of it, and knows it’s anything but warranted when Steve’s heart, the one Eddie might want to be after, just took up leaping in his fucking chest like a goddamn gazelle.

So Steve doesn’t think, at all, when he grabs the hand Eddie placed on his a few minutes ago and cups it to his chest, the best proof he knows that can’t be overthought, or rationalized away.

Eddie’s eyes are confused, for a second, until he feels it.

And then: but, fuck.

Steve’s never watched a flower blossom all at once before but…that’s all he can think of with the slow crawl of a smile, the bright gleam of something like wonder in eyes that get impossibly wider, a chest that rises and falls heavy abd quick under the silk Steve wants to unbutton a little, see more of that milk-smooth throat save now that he’s looking, he can see enough to take note of Eddie’s pulse there: riotous.

It’s too good. It’s too much.

But Eddie feels it with his own hand. Steve sees it with his own eyes.

Here they are.

“That’s usually my line,” Steve finally exhales, tries to make it a joke between them, an understanding and maybe it works, maybe they’re both too distracted by the hinting promise of maybe never needing to have such a joke again:

“Not too quick.”

And Eddie stays there, riveted, beaming something blinding and Steve just…feels his own heartbeat. Under a hand that doesn’t seem inclined to want to move.

Not too quick.

Eddie blinks at him, almost like he’s waking up from something he wasn’t even aware he’d been sleeping through, or walking through half-dazed. Like he’s seeing something real for the very first time. His breaths are fast, a little shaky, and then he’s standing, pulling Steve’s hand from his chest up to Eddie’s mouth and kissing his knuckles, watching Steve every second as Steve’s own breath hitches, and then pulling away, but not letting go yet. Like he’s reluctant to.

“Let me hit the head real fast, throw some water on my face to make sure I’m not dreaming,” Eddie whispers to him, breathless still and looking almost like he’s trembling; “while he gets those poured,” he tips his head toward the bar where their drinks are still waiting their turn.

Then Eddie’s brining Steve’s hand to his lips again and whispering there, and yeah, the man’s shaking a little as he breathes, almost shy:

“Don’t go anywhere?”

As if it’s even a question.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve promises with all he’s got, because he thinks…it’s insanity, but he thinks maybe he walked so reluctantly into this bar however many hours ago and somehow, by some act of benevolent fate, he’s…found the man who’ll prove to be the love of his life?

Steve could not be moved for anything.

Eddie walks half-backward for how much he turns to look back at Steve, and Steve waves a few times, makes a few stupid faces just to see Eddie struggle not to giggle, and it’s…

He did say his chest was gonna be sore by the end of the night but, Jesus. He doesn’t know if he even has ribs left, or if they’re all broken, crushed to smithereens, for how full his chest feels. Nothing so common and simple as the bones of him could stand up to this and not be changed.

He smiles as he pulls his phone out—when was the last date he had where he didn’t look at his phone? Has he ever been on one before?—and he registers they’ve been sitting here, sharing themselves in a way that feels more like laying a foundation, deliberately, and that’s, that is…

Steve’s spent a very long time wishing for someone who’d want that, with him of all people. He was pretty sure he’d made his peace with never finding it. And then: here he is.

He bites his lower lip, lest his grin crack his face, when he thinks of texting Chrissy real quick and just…thanking her. Because, yeah.

Steve did, in fact, end up loving him.

Like…too-soon-but-for-real-pitter-patter-heart-skipping-beats shit.

So he thumbs open the chat and sees…unread messages.

He doesn’t full-on frown, too high on, just, everything, so he opens the texts before he can assume the worst of someone texting him during a date they, you know. Played a key role in setting up:

he may be running late for traffic, if you haven’t left please STAY I promise he is WORTH IT 🙏🏻💞

Steve’s not even sure Eddie was late, maybe they’d been sitting a few stools away for twenty minutes: it feels like a lifetime ago, now, and—

Then Steve sees the timestamp. Sent…like two hours ago.

He’d been at least two tequila sunrises in, with Eddie versus on his own, by then so, what was Chrissy even talking about—

He scrolls to the most recent message.

Seventeen minutes ago.

omg Steve I’m so sorry and *he* is so sorry, he’s absolutely cut up about this he’s still in traffic but he says he’s determined to try, he’s got flowers for you and everything he’s SUCH A GOOD GUY STEVE I swear I wouldn’t have done this if if I didn’t think he’d treat you like you deserve and this isn’t his fault, I even checked waze and it’s a mess but he understands if it’s too much and—

“Everything okay?”

Eddie’s already taken his seat, and is looking at Steve with polite interest, not leaning to see what’s on his screen like so many people do on instinct, but there’s actual concern underneath, and investment in it. Like whatever’s wrong, Eddie wants to help fix it.

Steve, reeling over the way the puzzle pieces are slotting into place—namely that, by all accounts, the earliest his intended date could have arrived was maybe ten minutes ago—looks up at Eddie, turns his phone screen-down on the bar and clears his throat, bites the bullet.

“This may seem like a,” Steve takes a deep breath, because he has to ask even if he is almost dead certain of the answer; “a kinda out-of-nowhere question but.”

And then Steve meets Eddie’s eyes square on, lets them wash over him and fucking hell: they steady him. Already, they’re an anchor for him in the worst of storms.

“Were you, by any chance, here for a blind date?”

Steve watches Eddie’s face cycle through maybe the five stages of…shock, more than grief given the context, he guesses, but they’re somehow closer to one another than Steve would’ve thought, definitely considering they only just met, though then he’s gotta consider that it feels like Eddie’s burrowed safe in his chest amidst all the blossoming joy, all the warm fullness like he lives there to be kept inside it always and also to maintain it, preserve it, as its sole cause and reason to be: but Eddie—Eddie looks at him with eyes that go wide, that fall with the rest of his face and then shutter a little, and that tears into Steve the hardest, to see something come up like barrier when Eddie’s the reason Steve feels so raw right now, and alive for it; he can’t let Eddie feel less than that, feel the need to pull back from that, from him—

Then he’s placid. Calm. Accepting.

But he deep wells in his eyes: they’re wet. They’re devastated, somehow.

And…no.

But before Steve can move, can speak: there’s a bright, colorful thing that stands out in his periphery—he catches it, flowers near the hostess stand—and his eyes flick to the person holding them, looking dismayed and definitely out of breath; attractive, brunet, weirdly familiar, and then he’s gesturing just so and…

Oh. Oh, that’s…

Steve made the comment two weeks ago, after the show he and Robin had gone to at the Gershwin, that he’d climb the lead like a goddamn tree. She’d groaned, pushed him into a nasty-ass wall that’d earned her the bill for dinner and drinks—but she’d had that look in her eye. And he’d ignored it but now—staring said lead, out of costume, still very handsome even while so fucking distraught, wilting more by the second as Steve tries not to stare too obviously, but then add in that Chrissy knowing half the standbys, that her being the reason they even got tickets, and Robin’s look—well.

“Theatrical” being…fucking literal, like a little clue, suddenly makes a whole lot of sense.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says it under his breath but there’s…way more disappointment than their objectively-brief encounter should merit as he processes, eyes already having followed Steve’s, and puts the pieces together: no matter how late, Steve’s very-probable blind date’s entered the building.

Which—if Eddie answers the question the way the resignation making its home on his face suggests he will—makes Eddie…

“No, sweetheart,” and Eddie’s gathering Steve’s hands slowly, gently, and his face is mostly lax and his mouth tries for a smile but it’s just this side of a grimace as his eyes, god, they’re so bright, like maybe if you can’t stare you won’t see the hurt but Steve doesn’t have to look long for it to burrow into his own chest and flay at his beating fucking heart.

“No, I wasn’t.”

And Eddie looks down at their hands, like he did before, and the tenor to the staring is wholly different, now, subdued and mournful, and Steve’s mind’s already made up but, if it hadn’t been?

The unthinkable reality of witnessing this beautiful man’s heartbreak would seal the deal entirely.

“You know what?” Steve grabs Eddie’s hands back, and squeezes them tight as he makes to stand:

“Neither am I.”

Eddie’s lips part, and his brow furrows, eyes cutting to the front entrance, to the flowers, to a man who isn’t him as if that man could ever somehow be preferable, be more…more anything—

“But,” Eddie tries to protest, confusion undergirding the heartbreak, holding it still. Like…like breathless waiting, held in a frightful uncertainty, like weighing hearts against feathers: some cosmic importance in the balance.

Steve honestly couldn’t agree more. He just already knows how this scale tilts.

“You wanna get out of here, continue this conversation at any of the hundreds of other bars nearby?” Steve says, buttoning his blazer and reaching out a hand, hoping it stays steady; praying Eddie will read his conviction, his certainty, his heart and want to reach back.

And all the slow-rotting sickness in his stomach trying to climb upward and puncture all the buoyant joyful wonder in him for for every second that ticks by without Eddie’s hand in his, it’s all wiped away, burned by the flame of wanting and then getting, of Eddie’s hand in his properly held and Steve was fucking right.

They fit together gloriously.

“It would be my heart’s-sworn honor, my liege,” Eddie breathes, like maybe he’s afraid to hope and Steve won’t have that; and he thinks he knows what Eddie’s saying, knows what the fanciful words mean but he needs to be sure, so he lifts a brow and waits until Eddie grins again so his dimples start to show and he huffs, relief in it:

“I’d fuckin’ love to.”

They down their drinks in one go, gather their things and leave double their bill, barely paying anything so much as a glance when they could look at each other and marvel instead. They walk out opposite the flowers, paying neither the blossoms nor their holder any mind. The thing blooming between them, in Steve’s chest all the bigger and full and brighter for every step he takes with Eddie’s hand in his: it’s so much more than anything with stems and leaves, that grows in the ground. Like Eddie’s glow is more than a star could even hope for. Like the sunshine that’s maybe not Steve at all, that’s really just this feeling, and the way that it grows—it’s beyond explaining. It’s held between their hands alone.

And maybe Steve will text Chrissy and explain, ask her to send his regrets to the theater guy. Tomorrow.

Then Eddie tugs him closer unexpectedly, his laughter all music as he brings Steve’s hand to his lips again, then to his chest where this time, Steve catches the wild gallop of his pulse as proof.

He doesn’t think either of them have a fucking clue where they’re headed. They have every option in front of them, and want nothing more than the touch of the other, and the promise it holds inside.

So Steve does the tugging, now; curls one hand around Eddie and draws him in, his hand caught between their chests so perfect and tastes the coffee liqueur beneath the rye on his tongue and thinks of nothing else, not texting, not set-ups, not waiting: because he’s here. Right here.

And Eddie’s heartbeat feels like home somehow already; the taste of him is nothing short of divine. They’re fully clothed on a New York street and this is the most intimate thing Steve’s maybe ever felt, after the most meaningful evening he’s maybe ever spent with anyone. At a bar. Drinking tequila and grenadine.

He starts laughing, right against Eddie’s lips, right into Eddie’s mouth, so maybe some of the joy will trickle down into his chest, inside his heart so he’ll know even just a fraction of the joy that’s making Steve feel not lighter than air, or dizzy with the speed of it all—but again, maybe for the very first time: real. Solid. Worth something this momentous.

And maybe—increasingly likely, even, as if that’s not the most incredible, unfathomable, heart-starting thought he’s ever entertained but he thinks maybe he might just actually have a shot here, or can even already say just a little bit that he’s—

Loved.

Fuck. Fuck.

Scratch maybe sending a text by tomorrow—he’ll process getting ahold of Chrissy (and that conniving girlfriend of hers) to invite them to the goddamn wedding.

Because right now? Steve’s kissing the man he’s gonna spend the rest of his life with, the man he’s going to live and die learning to love better with everything he is and ever could be: one hand pressed between both their chests, and it’s not too much because Eddie’s pressing them together tighter, body to body and hanging on like he’s trying to hold Steve’s heart in from the back of his ribs just in case; and it’s not too soon because it feels like every single goddamn thing he’s waited for his whole life, beating and clinging and gasping and melding into place finally, finally because it’s…everything. This is everything.

They are everything.

For @starryeyedjanai, who requested 'Wrong Number/Wrong Blind Date AU' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST and incidentally also for @steddie-week for the Day Three prompt 'Long' (which is employed in a couple of abstract ways here)

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth

divider credits here

ao3 link here ✨

[bifairywife]

inside out 2 if it was filmed in my head:

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I actually haven't seen a single one of the Venom movies so I'm assuming-via the power of general Tumblr osmosis-that they actually addressed the monster fucking aspect of Eddie and the Symbiote's relationship or they did something like have the Symbiote temporarily possess a random female character to avoid the possibility of gay

[morganbritton132]

Someone comments on one of Eddie’s videos that you can ‘clearly’ tell that Steve is only with Eddie for the money and Eddie responds to it with a bunch of old pictures of them from when they lived with Wayne. Eddie’s just like, “Steve was a rich kid with a trust fund when we met. He got disowned and kicked out for dating me, and lived with me and my uncle in a trailer while putting himself through school way before the band was making anybody money. What the fuck are you talking about?”

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[eddiestightywhities]

the queen bee and his goofy king consort

[filthgarbage86]

I JUST HAD A THOUGHT

Okay so think about it; I’m sure Eddie doesn’t hang out with a ton of girls, not on purpose, he just mainly hangs out with the hellfire club and his band members.

Then you show up

And you fit right in with everyone. It’s so easy to talk to you since you both have similar interests and you’re very chill about everything. Sure you get excited and into the game play but overall you just like to hang and talk about similar interests! You hang out, listen to music and what not. He loves spending time with you, he feels so relaxed around you.

Maybe a little too relaxed. You don’t mind of course because you know, Eddie is just your friend. He’s made that painfully clear that he just sees you as another one of his guy friends, which is fine.

Then one day, he’s walking around town and he sees you in the video rental store talking to Robin. You guys are going crazy over something and he realizes you’re giggling and there’s something else… he can’t put his finger on it but he knows he’s blushing. He better go say hi and see what’s so funny.

He walks in and Robin greets him half assed as soon as she recognizes who it is and gives him a witty one liner.

“Whatcha guys talking about?”

“Oh Robin was just telling me about the new Tom Cruise movie that just came out. Apparently Nancy is reeeaaalllyyyy into him but he’s not really my type”

He stands there a bit dumbfounded

“You’re… you’re talking about.. Tom cruise? And your type?”

“It sounds silly but Robin says it’s a good movie! Maybe I’ll have to watch and see what Nancy sees in him” you and Robin both laugh at the thought a little bit

Eddie is just staring at you, realizing he’s caught you talking to your friend.. about boys. and he would have this ridiculous epiphany. “You really are a girl”

You stiffen a bit and it doesn’t go unnoticed “Uhh yeah… last time I checked Ed, what have I been this whole time? An alien?” You’re not dumb, again, you know exactly how Eddie saw you but this just drove the knife a bit deeper.

“No that’s not- I didn’t mean- no I just-“

Robin let’s out an exhausted sigh “look dorky ozwad, just because she plays dnd with you and goes to concerts and knows how to hang doesn’t make her any less of a girl. It’s the 80s dude, girls can like fantasy and metal just as much as they like romance”

Eddie stands there dumbfounded, he’d feel like an idiot. He knows it shouldn’t matter and to him it still doesn’t. He just never realized how “bro-y” he had been towards you. And it makes him feel silly. Now everything makes sense as to why he always likes to watch you smile and laugh (he’d do anything to make you laugh) or why he always wants to hang out with you. He likes you. More than just a friend, and not even just because you’re a girl- because you’re YOU. He just forgot that sometimes to get the girl, you have to treat her with a bit more rizz than he would a guy friend.

He’d be standing there an awful long time and your also standing there in silence, blushing profusely at everything that just unfolded. Of course you told Robin about feeling just like another one of his friends which would have been FINE with you.. but it wasn’t really. You wanted him to look at you differently, not entirely, but just enough to see you in a different light.

After that day he does. He notices the way you greet everyone with a bit of a pep to your step. How you always make sure you have a good outfit, even when you’re just lazing about. You always are prepared for every situation, and most of all, he notices every kindness you share to those around you. You’re sweet, you’re nice, and you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous. He’s been so blind this whole time because on top of all that, you go into battle every week during hellfire with no mercy. You go to metal concerts and are in the middle of most mosh pits. You are able to stand your ground in any argument big or small, and you can out do any of the guys in any random prank or dare.

You are perfect to him. He knows this. Now he has to figure out how to make sure YOU know he thinks you’re perfect.

He has no IDEA where to start

“I NEED ADVICE” as he slams the doors to the video rental place, to see not only Robin but also Steve. Perfect.

“Whoa dude okay are you finally ready to listen to other things besides screaming for 10 minutes?”

“For the last time, it is music, and no that’s not what I’m here for” he’d look at Robin and she’d smirk “ahh.. you’re finally here for lady advice I see”

“Lady advice? You? Who’s the lucky gal? Is it y/n? Took you long enough-

“I KNOW I know but I don’t know what to do.”

“Just you know.. treat her like a girl

Robin elbows him “dude, come on, what era are you two from? different wording. Treat her like she’s special. Treat her like you would do anything to make her happy”

“I would do that, but I don’t know HOW that’s why I’m here”

Robin groans “look, you guys hang out ALL the time, SURELY you’ve noticed SOMETHING she wants a guy to do for her”

something a guy could do for her…

—————————————————————

The next morning you’d be making your way to your locker when you notice Eddie is already there.

With his hair pulled back into a low messy bun. And he’s wearing a button up. And he looks like he’s either going to freak any second or faint in the process.

“Good morning Eddie. What’s with the get up? I’ve NEVER seen you this formal… are you wearing cologne?”

“Haha yeah uh- um- I am. I was trying to smell nice compared to the normal weed, beer, and cornflakes-“

“I like your normal smell”

“What? No that’s not- we’ll come back to that” You’ve been there all of 10 seconds and he’d already be flushed. you giggle and only just realize then that he’s holding something behind his back. He pulls out a bouquet of flowers, beautiful and bright

You feel so bad for trying not to laugh. He notices immediately and starts to regret everything. Of course you wouldn’t like this, or him. He puts them away but you’d grab his arm back out and take the flowers, still giggling to yourself

“I’m sorry, sorry, I’m being so incredibly rude. This is VERY sweet of you, but this is SO out of character for you. What’s going on?”

“Well you know.. after the other day with Robin I realized I’ve never really shown you.. how.. I feel about you? And like sure we play dnd together and you come to my concerts and we are together all the time because I love being around you but you.. deserve to be treated like you’re special. Because you are.. to me..”

He wishes the ground could swallow him whole

You look at him with those gentle eyes and you look back at this bouquet he’s brought you and you just smile so big. “Well.. you certainly have made me feel special right now. But next time, just know you do not have to dress up like a job-monkey. I think your jacket is hot enough”

He lights up “really? You like my jacket?”

“Duh. I like everything about you, even the nasty things, and believe me you’ve got those. But I like that you treat me like me. Like a person. Not just a playtoy or separate species. I will admit though, it would be nice if you held my hand or showed any kind of affection”

He’s looking at you dumbfounded. You’d just take it as your cue to grab his hand and start walking towards your English class together. You stop by his locker though so he can change and eventually the two of you are just as you were, but a little bit more. He gets more comfortable with you and eventually everything works out as you planned it- after all, flirting with boys especially Eddie isn’t rocket science.

[kennahjune]

Allow Me to Propose Something:

How about, instead of his parents forcing him, Steve actually just? Likes? Sports?

No parental forcing or peer pressure just— he like sports. He likes swimming and basketball and maybe soccer and track.

Steve just liking sports because he’s allowed to have his own interests outside of the Party and older kids.

I always see Steve changing how he dresses and changing his music interests and all this other bullshit in Steddie fics and you know what?

Fuck that.

Steve dragging Eddie to every one of Lucas’ basketball games. Steve watching football and soccer and basketball games with Lucas and Wayne and Eddie silently watching with them because Steve is happy and Wayne is happy and hell— Lucas is happy, so why the fuck not?

Dustin and Mike still being skeptical of Lucas joining the basketball team post-Vecna (especially with Jason now dead and what Andy did to Erica and Lucas’ new ties to Eddie and—) but both of them finally realizing that sports brings just as much joy to Lucas as DnD does. And that’s honestly more than enough.

Steve still wearing his polos and blue jeans and clean white sneakers because that’s his style and how he’s comfortable.

Steve still listening to Wham! and Queen and ABBA and all his other musical interests cause that’s what he likes to listen to and that’s what he finds pleasing to his ear.

Steve having his own interests because he’s his own person and he’s allowed to have his own personality.

Because frankly— fics where Steve changes entirely so he can date Eddie make me really sad.

[creatures-that-dont-die]

A friend pointed out that he looks like Dewey from Scream and I can’t unsee it 😭😭

[tiringwritings]

paw paw

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

[ivysos2001]

There’s nothing I love more than two nerds falling in love and being nerdy together so obviously Janine and Gregory and their adorably dorky couples costume was kinda everything to me

[smallandalmosthonest]

marjan and eddie should’ve hooked up send post

[skepsiss]

Modern Problems, Modern Solutions pt 1

Pt2

I have like 4 other parts to this written already but I'll post em when I have time to edit. Yearning with extremely awkward teen Steddie. Eddie as a proper 17 year old would be awkward as hell! I think at least. Additionally, there is quite a bit of swearing so you've been warned. Generally, I just wanted to explore EDDIE catching feelings first and being put out by that.

Modern day AU, or more or less modern give or take 5ish years circa 2015/19. I don't think this takes place in the Hawkins we know from the show.

Small American towns can be kinda backwards, but it varies a lot as to how open and accepting each town/state is. So, suspend disbelief and imagine it as a place that is tolerant of queerness. Also, read with the understanding that in a lot of places in this generalized time people think queerness is actually kinda "trendy" in some ways. It's not taboo but it's also extremely dependant on the person that is queer and "how queer they act". "be gay... but not too gay" etc.--

---

"Did you hear? Steve Harrington just came out as bi--"

Eddie looked up from his phone, feet propped up on the desk in front of him. The boy who had popped his head into their mostly empty homeroom had delivered the news so quickly that everyone there was quietly shocked.

"Son of a bitch," Eddie grumbled, putting his feet down and getting clumps of dirt on the linoleum floor. School hadn't even started and he was already having to deal with this bullshit.

"What?" Gareth asked, laughing a bit awkwardly. He sounded confused like he didn't understand where Eddie was directing his vitriol.

"Leave it to some preppy, jock, rich-boy to make 'being gay' cool--asshole," Eddie's words were drenched in sarcasm and mockery, going as far as to air-quote when he said being gay.

"I've been fucking gay since 8th grade and now some 16-year-old wannabe happens to be queer it's big news?" Eddie sat back with frustration, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching in his seat.

"I don't think you're supposed to say queer--" Jeff started to correct only to shut up quickly when Eddie whipped his head around to him and glared.

"I can say whatever the hell I want. I'm the one that's queer!" Eddie spat, hating that so much of this 'being gay is okay' culture circled around the heterosexual perspective of what was and was not okay.

Eddie grouched for the rest of the day, keeping his head down and feeling his nostrils flare every time a whisper of today's big news passed by him in the hallways. Who fucking cared? Steve Harrington was thee popular boy in school and was talked about as if he was their generation's teen heart-throb. It was to a point where Eddie knew who he was despite him being an underclassman. He was in grade 12 and he still had to hear about Steve Harrington as if he mattered. Sports star, good-looking, daddy's boy.

It was so goddamn annoying. Eddie had been out since he was thirteen and he had suffered through the humiliation of 'being queer' all the way through high school. He had the scars to prove it and it pissed him off that four years later it felt like people were singing Steve's praises for being brave enough to come out. Who fucking cared? Being gay was cool now or something--it gave you an edge and despite the fact that Eddie was bi himself, it truly felt like bisexuality was a cop-out to get girls to think you were hot with no intention to do the whole gay part of it. That was unfair to think, but in his biased opinion, some popular boy didn't deserve to be treated delicately while he had been in the trenches over it.

Eddie glared as the school day ended as he walked outside into the Autumn air. He could see Steve across the parking lot chatting to a gaggle of people around his car. He was smiling and laughing and everyone seemed so eager to let him know they accepted him. Or whatever the fuck. He couldn't actually hear what they were saying.

"Does the torture of high school know no fucking end?" Eddie grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets, not paying attention to where he was going.

"Tell me about it."

Eddie looked up at the sound of a voice; the words that were spoken dripped with sarcasm. Robin was leaning against her bike by Eddie, bag slung over her shoulder as she watched the fanfare from a safe distance--same as Eddie. Robin was president of the LGBT-Alliance club, and Eddie knew her from band. Robin was two years younger than him, but she had come in hot and loud about being a lesbian straight from jump. Despite how meek she was in many regards, she was smart and dedicated to her beliefs. Eddie could respect that.

"Get a load, huh?" Eddie asked, scoffing as he glanced back over at Steve.

"Hmm," Robin offered quietly, staring for a moment before starting to put on her helmet, "he's been coming to meetings pretty regularly over the last couple of months, you know."

Eddie looked back at Robin, surprised to hear her... defending Steve Harrington? He thought it was unanimous that geeks and weirdos like them hated guys like that.

"You'd know if you ever showed up for meetings," Robin said a bit flippantly, and Eddie frowned at her.

He had tried the whole LGBT-Alliance thing and it just wasn't his space. It was boring and he hated that the group generally just talked about events and progress they should make. He didn't want any of that, he just wanted to hang out with a couple of people that were queer like him. He didn't want to be scheduling and painting signs or whatever the fuck. He had his own things to do after school--band, D&D, chucking dirt wads at a wall--anything was better than sitting in what was essentially a business meeting.

"Come on," Eddie grumbled, not wanting to acknowledge that if Steve had been attending the LGBT-Alliance meetings that this 'leaving the closet thing' had been a long time coming.

"He's actually a decent guy," Robin defended as she adjusted her helmet straps, "all things considered."

Eddie huffed a laugh, scoffing at Robin.

"Didn't think I'd be hearing this from you, Buckley--I thought lesbians were supposed to hate all men or something," Eddie retorted, not really meaning it but feeling confrontational.

"Don't be a drag," Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at the comment, "talk to Will Byers about it or whatever. He's in your D&D thing, right?"

"Hellfire," Eddie corrected, thinking about that for a moment. Will was in both their clubs and he was close friends with Dustin--who also seemed to adore Steve Harrington for some reason. It was stupid, he didn't understand why half the kids in his after-school club liked the guy. Eddie had never had any personal conflict with Steve, but he fit the shape of every guy Eddie had ever taken issue with.

"Whatever," Robin retorted, getting onto her bike, "you know we're having a mixer next weekend. You should come."

Eddie looked at her, frowning again. He didn't want to go to a mixer, whatever she meant by that. Robin seemed to pick up on the mild confusion he had around the comment, explaining further.

"Geez, there's like posters around the school, Eddie. Our alliance and like 4 other schools in our district are having like an LGBT dance, mixer, party or whatever. Hosting in Talho on Saturday. We've got a pretty big turnout already, tickets are five bucks."

"Five bucks?" Eddie huffed, acting as if that number was ridiculous for an event like this. He didn't want to admit that it sounded kind of... nice. With four other school districts... that meant there would be a lot of guys that were undeniably queer he'd get to meet for the first time if he went. That was something. It'd really be something if he walked away with a date.

"I'll think about it," Eddie said, waving Robin off and continuing his slouch across the parking lot to start his long walk home.

—--

"Call me if you need a ride," Wayne said as Eddie shuffled out of the cab of the truck. He stood at the door, having to look up at Wayne in order to see him from how much the suspension of Wayne's old gas-guzzler hoisted the truck off the ground.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie huffed, feeling put out already for having decided to come. He was having second thoughts as he stood there, holding Wayne's door.

"Eddie," Wayne said a bit more firmly, looking for a straight answer.

"I'll call if I need a ride home-- or whatever," Eddie replied, sounding annoyed as he shut the door and turned towards the school gym.

It was obvious where the event was being hosted and he felt weird showing up alone. He had decided to come after much lamenting, resigning himself to just chatting to Will all night if he hated the damn thing. It felt weird, and he quietly hoped that at least some people his age would show up. He didn't want to be stuck as the oldest person there amongst a sea of 14 and 15-year-olds.

The event wasn't formal, but Eddie had tried to clean up a bit. He'd left his leather jacket and vest at home, opting for just an old denim jacket and a T-shirt that didn't have a band or logo on it. Other than that, he was still in scuffed-up shoes and ripped jeans, but he hoped that didn't put people off. Not that it mattered. Not that he ultimately cared. He didn't want to talk to anyone who had a problem with it to begin with, but it still made him feel self-conscious. Really, he hadn't dressed up because he didn't have anything to dress up into. Even the debate of if this was worth five bucks or if he should save it in order to get the luxury of sub-par pizza next week had been a difficult choice to make. He hated showing up to things like this and sticking out like a sore thumb--he hated being easily marked as poor.

Eddie paid his entry fee and stepped into the gym; the decorations were tacky and everything screamed 'event put on by teenagers.' There was something kind of charming about that though, even if it felt a bit pedestrian. It was sort of as he feared though... there were people here--a decent amount--but everyone looked so... young. The realisation made Eddie tense a bit as he moved over to the refreshments table and idled before getting a drink.

Great. Just great. He had spent five bucks for an awkward night leaning against a wall and drinking fruit punch.

"Eddie!"

Eddie turned to see Robin waving at him. She had a vest with a button on it signifying that she was a leader in the club. She probably had responsibilities to attend to during the night, but she did look mildly excited to see him there.

Feeling like he didn't have much of an option, Eddie migrated in her direction, feeling very self-conscious about the whole thing.

"Hey, you made it," Robin offered, a few people hovering around her. It was sort of obvious that she was busy, but Eddie appreciated her taking the time to say hi.

"Yeah, figured I'd check it out at least," Eddie said, talking into his cup as he looked around the room. He didn't really have time to lament though as a small commotion worked its way towards them.

"Sorry--sorry!"

Eddie looked to see Steve Harrington making his way over to them with what looked like 4 dozen balloons. It was kind of comical really, seeing him try to fight past the sea of bobbing, colourful globes.

"Steve!" Robin said sharply, her volume subdued but still stern.

"Sorry--there was a hold-up--" Steve replied, awkwardly trying to move the balloons to see past them and talk directly to Robin.

"Oh—oh-How-what? A holdup?" Robin mocked back, tisking as she took a bundle of the balloons from Steve and handed them to the girls beside her.

"Uh, yeah, Buckley. There was a holdup, you gagging on ten-dollar lipstick or something?" Steve retorted quickly "looks good by the way." He was gesturing to the make-up Robin had on and the bright red lipstick she had applied which was fairly different compared to her usual look.

Eddie snorted into his cup, choking slightly as he tried to hold back from laughing at the burn. Robin looked offended for half a beat before smacking one of the balloons directly into Steve's face and taking the rest of the handful.

"Ow--hey," Steve complained, getting aggressively jostled as Robin walked past him.

Despite what was being said, the whole exchange had been... friendly. It was weird really, it looked and sounded like Robin and Steve were actually friends. They were toying with each other and being bitchy in a way Eddie had only ever seen best buddies do, which was really goddamn weird to see coming from a superstar, jock hunk, and the local raging feminist, band geek.

"You're on my shit-list," Robin commented, pointing over her shoulder at Steve and then bustling off with the other girls and the balloons. Obviously, they had been meant for decorations and Robin was now rushed to finish setting everything up. The whole exchange had been so quick Eddie hadn't even been able to properly react before he was standing there... with Steve.

Steve turned towards him and Eddie averted his gaze, still holding his punch glass up to his lips.

"Hey," Steve greeted, sounding much too charming.

"Hey," Eddie mumbled back, turning slightly and facing the room instead of looking at Steve. He didn't walk away, that felt like a bridge too far, but he wasn't going to open himself up to a conversation.

"Eddie, right?" Steve asked, and Eddie glanced at him, watching Steve push his hair back into place. He hadn't realised, but Steve was panting slightly, obviously catching his breath from... probably running in here to deliver Robin's balloons.

"Yeah," Eddie confirmed, looking away again as he slouched. Great. He was stuck talking to Steve with no obvious escape plan. Perfect.

"Steve--"

"I know who you are," Eddie replied, not letting Steve finish his introduction. It had probably just been to be polite anyway, but it was obvious that Eddie knew who he was. They went to school together. They had mutual friends. It wasn't rocket science.

That shut Steve up for a moment and chewed at Eddie's guts. That had been a bit rude. Steve hadn't actually done anything wrong, yet, so really he should just save it for another time. Steve was stuck here too after all, with a bunch of kids just like Eddie.

"Pretty... young," Eddie said, watching the gym as people mingled. It really was just a bunch of 14 or 15-year-olds chatting with one another. They seemed to be having fun, and Eddie was glad for that since he hadn't had anything like this when he was that age.

"Hm, yeah," Steve replied, sounding kind of amused for some reason. "Always the damn babysitter, huh?"

Eddie glanced at him for that comment, not really understanding where it was coming from.

"Yeah..." Eddie offered, wondering if he had said it because Hellfire Club also skewed younger. He had seen Steve drop Dustin off before, scolding him like a mother would over something, but he had never come inside to meet anyone at Hellfire. Eddie had just noticed it was all.

An awkward silence drew out between them and Eddie could tell that Steve was starting to feel uncomfortable too.

"You seen Will Byers anywhere?" Eddie asked, looking for an out. He knew that Steve knew Will, he was one of those mutual friends.

"Oh, yeah," Steve offered, not making a motion to point anywhere, "but I'd leave him alone tonight if I were you."

Eddie quirked a brow at Steve, something of a challenge in his stance as he looked at him. Why on earth would he leave Will Byers alone tonight?

"I drove him--" Steve half explained, obviously realising that he needed to elaborate, "that's why uh I'm--it doesn't matter. There's a boy here that he likes."

Eddie's eyebrows shot up at Steve's explanation, looking back at the floor and the sea of dweeby, little gays circling each other awkwardly. Oh. Right. This was a lot of people's first chance to do anything with someone queer like them. He hadn't considered that Will would have someone here he intended to talk to.

Eddie laughed, both at his own stupidity and the charming realisation that he was glad this whole thing was happening, even if he wasn't having a good time.

"Good for him," Eddie snorted, cheersing the room and taking a swig of his punch.

"God," Eddie sighed, finding the humour in this whole thing now, "who the hell am I supposed to bother now?"

He was lamenting for no real reason, wondering quietly to himself if he should hold out and wait to see if anyone else his age showed up or if he should just cut his losses and start the long walk home. At least then, once he got back, Wayne would just assume he got a ride and had a good time. He didn't want to admit to Wayne that he ditched, not after he had agonised over whether or not it was worth it to spend the five dollars. Wayne had supported him going and assured him it wasn't a waste if he wanted to go. Eddie didn't want to prove him wrong.

Eddie glanced at Steve, wondering how he was going to excuse himself now that his out was occupied. He caught Steve looking at him and quickly looked forward again, surveying the room. That was weird. Eddie took note of that, slowly looking back at the party unfolding before them.

"So... Bi, huh?" Eddie offered, not sure why he was trying. He'd give it until he finished his glass of punch and then he'd walk home if no one interesting entered the party.

Steve seemed to laugh a bit awkwardly to that, doing this weird thing with his hands where he clasped them behind his back and then swung them forward to clasp at his front. It was the most uncomfortable Eddie had ever seen him--not that he had paid a ton of attention to Steve before now.

Oh. Eddie realised, feeling his chest clench a little, this was a lot of people's first chance to talk to another queer person. He was the oldest one here, closely followed by Steve... they were both fish out of water. Steve had the club, but there weren't a lot of guys their age that Eddie knew of who were queer. Steve had been mingling with kids this whole time. He was the elder here... weird.

"Yeah, I didn't really expect it to become a whole... thing," Steve replied, shaking Eddie from his thoughts. Right, he had pointedly questioned Steve's sexuality. Classy.

"Yeah, well, they'll get over it," Eddie retorted, feeling a bit bad now that he had been so dismissive of Steve's attempt to talk to him.

"I mean, it's been fine, I guess," Steve replied, sounding unsure of himself but not exactly bothered. Eddie could understand that, he didn't have the same experience per se, but all the guys at Hellfire knew he was queer and it was fine. He could remember being unsure though how gay he got to act around them all. It had been awkward and uncomfortable to find the rhythm of where you all sat, even if no one was blatantly rejecting you.

"Feels like you and everyone else are walking on eggshells about it, right?" Eddie asked, sighing as he leaned back until he hit the wall behind them, slouching.

"Something like that," Steve replied, his words coming out slowly as he watched Eddie and then took half a step back to join him against the wall.

"My advice? Just don't fall in love with your best friends," Eddie joked, only half serious. It verged on real advice, but it wasn't like it was something you could help.

Steve laughed anyway, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, as if. No thanks."

Something about that made Eddie smile a bit. Steve had been so dismissive of the idea as if the mere mention of having a mild interest in some jock was unheard of.

Eddie took a swig of his punch, swallowing hard as he started to relax a little bit.

"I'm bi too, you know," he said, sucking his upper lip to get the rest of the juice off.

"I can't remember if I used that word when I came out though--people just sort of figured with me, I don't think I really had to tell anyone."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, sounding interested but not sure how to progress.

"Uh, c'ya, what do you think?" Eddie mocked back, flipping his long hair over his shoulders and then flicking it back with his hands from side to side as if he were walking down some kind of runway. Long hair didn't mean you were gay, but it was a step towards making people think you were.

Steve laughed at that too, properly this time without that edge of awkwardness to it. That, in turn, made Eddie smile a bit. He liked it when people found him funny, it felt good to make people laugh. It felt better still to be joking about something gay and not having to correct or explain anything to the other person. Steve was queer too, even if he was new at this, there wasn't that same level of judgment. Huh... funny though that he suddenly just accepted that Steve was queer when he had been put off by the idea initially.

The night carried on like that and Eddie was surprised to find... that he didn't mind talking to Steve all that much. There were quite a few cultural touchstones that he didn't have when it came to 'nerd shit' but he didn't seem to be annoyed by Eddie explaining those things to him if it was necessary. Eddie had gotten a bit louder and more loose before too long, even if he wasn't exactly buddy-buddy with Steve. And Steve, surprisingly, had stuck with him the whole night. Really, the event hadn't matured at all and Eddie had little desire to go mingle with the kids--especially when the kid that he knew here was probably trying his best to flirt. What the hell was he supposed to do? Walk up to a group of youngsters and just ask what they were talking about? "Trust me, trust me. I play games with children all the time!" Yeah, no.

Eddie's watch beeped at him and he looked at it, turning the little digital screen off. It wasn't that late, just past 10 really, but the longer he waited the more miserable the walk home would be.

"Well, that's my queue," Eddie said, pushing off the wall and leaving his cup on a table by them. "I should go."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not regretting having come after all, but not really feeling like staying either. Steve had made the night bearable, but Eddie wasn't all that eager to keep it up.

"Why? Or you'll turn into a pumpkin?" Steve asked, teasing a little.

Eddie snorted at him, finding that line incredibly cheesy and in turn kind of funny because of that.

"Yeah, I've got to go traipse into the woods and take root or I'll start sprouting weeds like a chia-pet."

Steve chuckled at him, looking over to the doors. Eddie started walking towards the exit anyway, and Steve seemed surprised that he was actually going. He got off the wall and walked a few paces with Eddie before they both stopped, lingering a bit.

"I've just got to start walking home," Eddie explained, pinching his brows in, finding it kind of amusing that Steve seemed... concerned? He wasn't sure, it felt out of character for a cool guy to be following him.

"Walking home?" Steve asked, again, sounding surprised. "To Hawkins?"

"No to the moon, Bilbo was writing about me. Yeah back to Hawkins," he answered sarcastically, jamming his thumb towards the doors. Steve didn't seem bothered by the reply, even if he squinted for a moment with confusion with Eddie's mention of Bilbo.

"You live at Hawkins Trailer Park, right?" Steve asked.

The question instantly made Eddie tense, and he set his jaw a bit.

"Yeah, why?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. He didn't like this line of questioning. It always felt weird when people commented on the fact that he lived in a trailer park. It especially felt weird coming from rich-boy Steve Harrington.

"Jeez, chill. I'll give you a ride, I live near there too," Steve explained, taking his keys out of his pocket and jostling them, "Hawkins is too far to walk to from here."

Eddie blinked at him a moment, floored by the offer for some reason.

"You don't have to do that, man," Eddie replied, feeling extremely awkward all of a sudden. "You should stay."

"And do what?" Steve asked, sounding amused. He looked over his shoulder at the crowd of young teens chatting and mingling before looking back at Eddie with a raised brow.

"Fair enough," Eddie replied, banishing his guilt for now. Steve was right though, Hawkins was far to walk to from here and there really wasn't a lot keeping Steve at the mixer. Will was getting a ride home from his brother and Robin was too busy fussing over every little thing to mingle. Plus, the event really would be closing soon so Steve didn't have to stay.

Eddie still felt awkward as he walked up to Steve's beamer and prepared himself to feel awkward the whole drive back to Hawkins. It was a nice car and he couldn't help but constantly think about how he had never been in a car this nice before. It wasn't brand-spanking new, but it almost felt like it with how clean it was. The car was spotless really and it was obvious that Steve took extremely good care of his ride.

"This is... uh, a nice ride," Eddie said, running his hands over the dash as Steve drove, before sitting back again.

"Thanks," Steve replied, chuckling a little. Eddie really was admiring the car; he wasn't a gear-head but he could appreciate a nice ride. Thrill bubbled in Eddie's stomach all of a sudden as he glanced at Steve.

"How fast can this thing go?"

Steve looked at him in turn, the moment drawing out between them before Steve's lips cracked into a smile.

"Want to find out?"

Eddie's eyes widened and he smiled back, surprised and pleased that his ask was being met. God, it was so stupid. They were being such teenagers right now. Steve in his daddy's bought, fast car with the punk, bad-influence kid in his passenger's seat ready to tear it up on the freeway.

Steve pulled off the main road and Eddie's stomach swooped with excitement. He didn't know where they were going but he figured Steve knew somewhere they could drive without hitting anyone. He didn't want to be stupid about it, maybe a bit reckless, but hey--they were young. When else were they going to do this shit?

Eddie leaned forward, turning on the radio and fiddling with the dial.

"What're you doing?" Steve asked, sounding amused as they drove towards some back, country road. Perfect.

"Finding the right music!" Eddie replied, sounding equal parts excited and exasperated for being asked. He was flicking through the dial quickly, only pausing for a beat or two before switching again until he found what he was looking for.

"You done?" Steve asked as Eddie paused for a moment longer to confirm that he liked the song. He looked at Steve before cranking the volume dial and sticking his tongue out.

"Let's fucking go," Eddie whooped, sitting back and bracing himself as he felt Steve hit the gas and they started rocketing down the road.

Fear mingled with thrill as Eddie sat back, holding onto the door as they drove down this pitch-black road. He shouted with excitement, obviously stressed but having a blast. Steve seemed cool as could be, smiling with the thrill of it too but none of Eddie's anxieties.

"Fuckin' hell--" Eddie managed as they reached a bend and Steve slowed down to take it. He started to decelerate, their quick little drag race having finished.

"We should do that again!" Eddie continued, panting a bit as he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Chill out--" Steve snorted, falling back into the rules of the road as he stopped at an unmarked rail crossing. "Cops like to drive around here--we'd be risking it."

"Boooo," Eddie called, smiling in a joking way. He understood and he wouldn't push it even if he wanted that adrenaline rush again.

"Another time then," Eddie replied finally, pausing for a moment as he realised he had assumed he'd be in Steve's car again for some reason.

"Sure," Steve answered back easily, chuckling a little.

Eddie glanced at him, before reaching to turn the music volume back down. He didn't turn it off though, needing the quiet metal to help settle him.

Steve sure did laugh a lot, didn't he? Was Eddie really that amusing?

Eddie felt his pocket buzz and he squirmed before taking his phone out. It was Wayne. He was asking if Eddie needed a ride, surely expecting that Eddie had lost track of time or something like that. Eddie let the car fall into silence as he replied back to Wayne, feeling a bit weird all of a sudden. He kept typing and retyping what to say.

No, I got a ride from a friend. Were Steve and him friends?

I'm good. Too vague, it would worry Wayne too much.

Some guy gave me a lift. That sounded sketchy as hell. Eddie just settled on 'no, I got a ride' and left it at that, but it made him feel weird regardless.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked, drawing Eddie's attention back to him.

"Oh, yeah, no, yeah. Just my uncle wondering how I was getting home," Eddie explained, feeling weird about Steve asking him something like that. Robin had been right... he really wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"So," Eddie said, breaking the silence, running his hands over the seat, "this car get you mad puss?" He asked, his tone jovial and teasing as he stuck his tongue out between his fingers, being lewd on purpose. He didn't know why his default was raunchy humour, but it had tumbled out of him before he thought too hard about it.

"God, shut up--" Steve replied in good humour, sounding surprised and amused by the sudden comment.

"I know I've got a reputation, but jeez, man," Steve laughed, driving them back onto the main road towards Hawkins.

"So... that a yes?" Eddie teased, enjoying this little banter.

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, before glancing at Eddie out of the corner of his eye with a wry smile.

Eddie burst out laughing at that, finding it more than a little amusing that Steve was leaning into the tease and taking it on the chin.

"Fuck, dude," Eddie giggled, not sure why that was just so amusing. It felt so weird to have good-boy, Steve Harrington talking to him about getting laid. This was so fucked up. This was so fucking weird.

"So," Steve started as Eddie stared out the window, still grinning to himself a bit, "how long have you known you were..."

Eddie glanced at Steve before lounging against the door, smiling at him.

"Queer?"

Steve looked at Eddie from the corner of his eye, obviously a little unsure of himself.

"You can say it you know," Eddie offered, crossing his arms and looking nonplussed. "If you are one, you get to say it as long as you're not like slurring it at someone or something. Welcome to the restricted section."

"Alright..." Steve replied, sounding a little unsure still. Eddie smiled at that too, finding it a bit charming how baby gay Steve was over the whole thing. He felt a bit superior all of a sudden, and he liked that feeling with Steve. He was in a fast car with the most popular boy in school and he was talking to him about how to be queer. What a trip.

"Since forever," Eddie replied, "I've known since forever. It was more weird for me to figure out that not everyone felt the same way. Like, girls--guys, whatever. Hot people are hot, end of story."

Steve nodded to that and Eddie tucked into the corner of his seat, feeling cool and relaxed as he watched Steve drive.

"You?"

Steve seemed to waffle a bit at the question, putting too much thought into it no doubt.

"I don't know," he finally replied, looking dissatisfied with his own answer, "somewhat recently, I think? It's like... I acknowledged it maybe a few months ago but, I don't know. Before that, I sort of felt like I was being dramatic or something? Like, obviously, I like girls so that's fine, it felt kinda... cliche?"

Eddie cringed a bit at the phrase Steve used, nodding his head and glancing away. He had much the same judgment towards Steve until recently. That had been unfair. It didn't matter that Steve was popular or that there had been less risk involved in his 'coming out' compared to Eddie. He was pretty and sporty and even if there was something a little cliche about an all-American boy like him turning out to be queer it didn't mean it was wrong.

"Your folks know?" Eddie asked, talking softer, not wanting to pry if Steve didn't want to talk about it.

"Yeah," Steve answered easily, his tone unreadable. "They knew before I uh... came out socially?"

Eddie nodded, rubbing his head against the window and feeling the car vibrate under him.

"They... cool?" He asked, feeling a bit weird about the whole thing. He was older than Steve, but he didn't really feel like he was. Steve had so much... going on. He had his own car, activities, career paths--he seemed so put together. He was perfectly coiffed and dressed, his car spotless... Eddie was the exact opposite. He wanted to be a musician and he worked hard at it, but sometimes it felt like he was putting all his eggs in one basket.

"Uh.... yeah, mostly," Steve replied, sounding a bit hesitant.

"That great, huh?" Eddie asked, smiling lightly and trying to sound sympathetic.

"No, well, my mom seems pretty accepting of it. Unsure like... nervous? I don't know. My dad... I don't really know what he thinks yet. He's--it doesn't matter."

Eddie frowned slightly as Steve cut himself off. It was a personal topic and he didn't blame him for not wanting to share, but it felt kind of bad to hear Steve say it didn't matter.

"What about your uh... uncle?" Steve asked, sounding awkward as he shifted the conversation.

"Yeah, he's cool," Eddie replied, looking back out the window, "I don't think he really knows how to be supportive necessarily so he's just like... trucking on but he's never dropped the ball. Treats all my... gay shit as if it was just normal shit." Eddie replied, laughing a little bit. He knew he was lucky to have Wayne. Not every queer person had a supportive family and once upon a time, he hadn't had that either. Wayne was a saviour... in more ways than one.

"That's... cool," Steve answered and Eddie snorted a little at how awkward the delivery had been.

"What?" Steve replied, sounding a bit amused.

"That's... cool," Eddie mocked, making his voice sound girly and vapid.

"Shut up," Steve scoffed, drawing up the syllables a bit.

Eddie grinned, liking that Steve seemed to be easy to torment. He went for the bait every time, but he never seemed overly offended.

"Gee wiz, Eddie, your uncle seems like such a cool guy," Eddie continued, being annoying on purpose. He kept it up as Steve started to laugh in mock annoyance. "Let's you go to a pre-teen party and everything."

"Stop--" Steve booed, glancing at Eddie quickly before purposefully wobbling the steering wheel and making the car quickly veer back and forth.

Eddie jolted up right at the movement, grabbing the door.

"Shit--don't--" Eddie squawked, smiling despite how that had made his stomach drop.

"Asshole--" Eddie jeered, looking at Steve who was grinning back at him. Okay, so Steve was actually fun? Was this why Dustin and those kids liked him so much? Mr. Uptight-jock was actually a little bit of a wild child hidden behind good hair and a dazzling smile?

Eddie settled into his seat, feeling kind of good about the night as he looked back out the window and let the rest of the drive grow quiet. They weren't far from Hawkins now and a part of Eddie felt kind of strung out from the weird emotional whiplash of the night.

"You know," Eddie said as they pulled up towards the trailer park, "you're actually not a bad guy, Steve Harrington."

Steve looked at him, eyebrows pinched in with mild concern.

"Thanks?"

"It's a compliment," Eddie scoffed in a friendly way, unbuckling his seatbelt as Steve drove slowly down the gravel road.

"Oh, well, thank you then," Steve reiterated a bit more sarcastically.

"You're also kind of a bitch," Eddie retorted, smiling at him and getting an incredulous sound from Steve. The car pulled to a stop and Eddie climbed out. He shut the door but lingered a second until Steve rolled down the window. He leaned over the frame and looked in at Steve.

"I can see why those kids think you're kind of cool," Eddie continued, feeling kind of... charmed. "Guess that makes you cool in my books too."

"Cool? Or cool?" Steve asked, mocking Eddie's previous buffoonery.

Eddie laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back.

"You're a bit of a dork too, you know that?"

He liked dorky guys.

"A dork? This? Coming from you?" Steve asked, inching his car forward a bit to keep Eddie in view of the window.

"Oh, cram-it," Eddie retorted, flipping Steve off through the window. He patted the doorframe lightly, careful not to hit it with any of his rings.

"Thanks for the ride though," Eddie swallowed, not really looking at Steve but still trying to be friendly.

"Yeah, man. Don't worry about it."

Eddie nodded, feeling weird about just walking away. He kind of wanted to stay out, chat more, and just listen to the radio with Steve which was... a weird thought. They didn't really have anything in common, and somehow Eddie knew that they weren't going to talk again at school. Steve was popular, he wasn't. Eddie was graduating this year, and Steve was 16. They ran in completely different circles.

"Kay, well, later then," Eddie offered, half waving his hand in front of the window before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking towards his trailer. Steve didn't say anything back, but he waited for Eddie to get his door open before pulling away like a proper gentleman.

The whole night felt... so odd to Eddie. He didn't know if he could say he had a good time, or even what had happened during the night, but it had been... nice. It had nothing to do with the mixer or anything Eddie had prepared himself for that night but instead, his good mood rested solely on his interaction with Steve. It was so weird and it left him feeling like he was in limbo. Like this night had been a weird pocket event and he'd never have a repeat of anything like it again. Nothing big had happened, nothing important, and there was nothing to remember about it really... but it felt like he wanted to hold onto it somehow.

Eddie huffed and stretched his lips, before finally taking the last few steps into the trailer. There was no point dwelling on something he couldn't touch and thinking too hard about it would probably ruin everything anyways. This could just be a one off. He could just look back on this and think about how nice it had been to bond... with Steve Harrington.

[marshbevvie]

Richie drew this about us.