#eddie and steve as roommates

[steviewashere]

Robin shaves her legs once and makes Steve feel them. This in turn convinces Steve to try shaving his legs (ignoring that he was swim captain or whatever—I don't care).

Eddie comes back to their apartment to see Steve bent over, ass naked in the bathroom shaving all of his everything—pubes, legs, chest. He literally falls to his knees and sobs so hard he almost throws up. Got snot coming out of his nose, spit down his chin, hands clutched to his chest. Almost screaming.

He fucking pets Steve's chest, digs his fingernails into the bare skin of Steve's legs, cradles Steve's naked balls and is like: "I'm sorry for what that monster did to you."

And Steve is all: "For the last time, babe, it'll grow back."

"Yeah, but I have to wait. What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Wh—What hair am I supposed to twirl between my fingers when you're still asleep in the morning and I miss you?"

"I have hair on the top of my head, y'know."

"Next thing I know, you're gonna shave that, too." And then he just leans in and kisses Steve's balls and keeps murmuring apologies.

Robin can hear them through her bedroom wall. The next morning, she pulls Steve aside and begs him to never shave again. "If I have to hear your fucking boyfriend bemoan the loss of his 'baby's ball hair', I'm going to machine wash and dry every single one of your prized cashmere sweaters. And then crease every toe of your sneakers. And then replace your weird full fat cow's milk with skim. Swear to god, Steve. Never make me hear that shit again."

Safe to say, Steve listens and appeases both of his soulmates.

[donttellunclesam]

this a @steddieexchange gift for @soaringornithopter !! Happy holidays, my friend! I had a blast planning this fluffy comic for you. I hope you enjoy it!! 🥰💜

[steddie-as-they-come]

Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates!

Part 2 AO3

Steve didn’t hate him exactly.

He was just… vastly irritated by his very presence.

When they’d fallen into being roommates with Eddie, Steve and Robin were just happy to have anywhere to live. 

They’d spent a few weeks living in the ageing BMW after they’d gotten booted by their previous landlord when the rent had spiked again and they couldn’t afford to pay it anymore.

Then Dustin had come to them saying he had a friend that had a spare bedroom that he needed to fill and they had jumped at the chance. 

It wasn’t a terrible apartment, all things considered. 

The bathroom needed a bimonthly mould clean out and the water pressure was nonexistent. It was almost always colder inside than it was outside, no matter how hot the weather got and the front door had clear signs of being broken down before, with a new lock haphazardly slapped over where the old one had been but it was shockingly quiet and secluded. 

A small and unassuming building that people tended to glance over sitting close enough to the city centre so that everything was within walking distance. It was twice the size of the place Steve and Robin had lived before, an open plan kitchen and sitting room with enough room for a dining table creating a barrier between the two. 

A nice dining table too. 

One that could fit more than two people.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom. 

Eddie had apparently wrinkled his nose at the idea of sharing with a couple but Steve and Robin weren’t about to correct him. He was a completely unknown person who seemed to make it his mission to look mean and scary, no matter what Dustin said about him. 

So Steve refused to feel bad about making assumptions.

But the guy was less mean and scary and mostly just annoying.

He left his shit everywhere, like he’d never heard of fucking organisation before. And he was so loud and exuberant all the time. Like yeah, they guy could enjoy his passions or whatever but that didn’t mean Steve had to like being an unwilling participant in it.

When Robin moved out, Steve stayed even though it was clear Eddie would have preferred if he'd gone too. 

He wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate was a lot. 

And he certainly wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate kept dropping hints he wanted his special someone to move in and Steve to move out.

Steve would show Eddie the meaning of stubborn.

They bickered like an old married couple constantly and Steve couldn’t exactly say that he hadn’t risen to the bait or caused his own fair share of problems between the two of them either.

Things had only marginally shifted once Eddie had proudly stuck up a flyer advertising the set list for the Pride Parade After Party that his band had somehow been signed to perform at.

When he caught Steve looking at it one morning he’d levelled him with his smuggest smile, like he’d just won some kind of argument. Like he was just waiting for Steve to go on a homophobic rant and run out of the apartment, never to return.

“Got a problem there, Stevie boy?”

Eddie crossed his arms loosely over his chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter with a feral look in his eyes, itching for a fight.

Steve had just turned to him with his sharpest, most cutting grin and lifted open the zippered side of his bomber jacket, revealing his bi pride flag patch sewn to the inner pocket.

“No.”

Eddie had glared at the patch like it had personally offended him before storming off to his room with a scowl.

After that, the barbs thrown at each other had gotten a little more… queer.

After one particularly frustrating argument, Steve had snapped at Eddie “I know how to keep a fucking shower drain clean, Mary.” before snatching his keys up and slamming the door behind him.

When Steve had finally seen fit to talk to Eddie again, nearly two full days later, huffing at him to hurry up in the kitchen, he wanted some coffee, Eddie had turned with the most exaggerated face of surprise and his hands thrown up in shock as he proclaimed, “She speaks!”

Steve had rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Jesus, you’re such a queen.”

Eddie had levelled him with his own cutting smile and responded, “That I am, darling.”

After that their arguments were full of a lot more condescending and patronising ‘Mary’s and ‘sweetie’s and ‘oh, honey’s.

It gave Steve the strangest feeling of companionship. Not only with Eddie, loathe as he was to admit it, but also with the culture and with the queers of old who were still around, who’d had to kick and spit and fight just to be seen.

Eddie had been buzzing around the apartment all day. 

It was A Big Date Night™ apparently. 

He was gonna ask the boyfriend to take a road trip with him back to Indiana to meet Wayne, a big step that he’d never made with a partner before.

Steve liked Wayne. But he liked even more how irritated Eddie was that they spoke. Wayne had called the apartment one day looking for his nephew and when Steve answered he heard the sounds of a game in the background and asked about it.

It was over forty five minutes later Steve turned to find Eddie staring at him with a horrified expression on his face and Steve couldn’t help the evil glint in his eye as he continued to debate Wayne on their favourite players.

But Eddie had left hours ago now and it was getting… late.

Really, really late.

Like four in the morning late and he hadn’t come home yet.

He was supposed to, he needed to be up the next morning for his shift at the nerd shop he worked at and he loved that job. He wouldn't miss it for anything.

Steve wasn’t like, worried or anything.

Not that Eddie needed to be babied, he wasn’t one of his kids. 

He was just… looking out for the safety of another human being.

The only light in the dark apartment was coming from the low glow of the tv and it was so quiet there was barely a sound coming from the speaker. Steve was curled up on the couch, swaddled in a throw and his mind kept drifting. 

He couldn’t pay attention to whatever was playing, his brain just kept catastrophising about what the fuck could have happened to make Eddie so late. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin and simultaneously felt his body unclench when he heard a key in the lock and recognised Eddie's wild head of hair coming into the apartment.

But that didn’t last long because Eddie caught the door before it could close with a loud snap like it usually did, shutting it slowly and softly behind him.

It was alarming because Eddie never remembered to close the door quietly, no matter how much Steve bitched at him. And it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, Steve knew that, it’s just that his mind was most often somewhere else, focused on some other thing so that he simply… forgot.

Eddie cursed low to himself as he slumped into the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open and rummaging around for a bit before pulling something out.

He kept his head low, hair spilling out around his face as he jumped up onto the counter and sat. 

He still hadn’t noticed Steve sitting there, watching the whole exchange under the dim flickering light of the television.

It looked like Eddie had snatched up a bag of Steve’s frozen peas. And they were Steve’s. Because Eddie didn’t eat anything green unless it was artificially coloured and covered in sugar.

Eddie squeezed the peas in hand hands, considering, before he muttered to himself, “so fucking stupid” and brought them up to rest on the side of his face.

That kicked Steve into action, unfurling himself from the couch, keeping his throw around his shoulders because it was fucking cold and he padded over to the kitchen in his fluffy socks.

“Eddie?”

Frozen peas scattered, skittling across the tiled floor, landing in the sink, ricocheting off the cupboard doors and clattering off the walls as Eddie jumped violently at the sound of his name, softly spoken as it was. 

He’d snapped his head up and Steve could see, in the dim light of the tv behind him, unusual darkness spreading over Eddie’s face, like a stain on his pale skin.

Eddie tightened his hands again around the now mostly empty bag, looking back down at it. 

“‘M sorry about your peas.” He mumbled.

Steve could only blink in response. 

Eddie wasn’t supposed to mumble. 

He wasn’t supposed to be quiet and subdued and wilted. 

He was supposed to be loud and brash and tawdry and bright.

“I’m gonna turn the light on, okay?” Steve tried to keep any rising panic and worry out of his voice, tried to keep himself calm and level. He could barely just make out the small nod Eddie gave after a beat of hesitation.

The light was harsh and painful after so long spent in mostly darkness and Steve had to squint through his glasses waiting for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he felt his stomach drop.

Eddie's face was scrunched up as he tried to blink through brightness but that wasn’t what caught Steve’s attention. 

Because there was blood crusting on the side of Eddie’s face, settled around his eye and in his hair from a gash over his eyebrow. His lip was split and puffy and swollen and his cheek was slowly blooming from red to purple.

“You should see the other guy.” Eddie grinned with a wince, when he noticed Steve cataloguing, but his eyes stayed distant and sad.

“What…” Steve stepped closer, hovering his hand over the injuries, over his hair. “What happened?”

Eddie shrugged, dipping his eyes back down to the melting bag of peas in his hands. “We had a disagreement.”

Steve looked down too and gently took the peas out of his grip, placing the bag in the sink next to them. 

It was only then that he noticed Eddie’s knuckles were bloodied as well, split and starting to swell.

He had to swallow against the sickening anger coiling in his throat as he closed a gentle hand around Eddie’s cold fingers and he tugged it over to the sink, turning the tap on. 

“Your peas-”

“Fuck the fucking peas, Eddie!” Steve snapped before trying to reel himself back in when Eddie flinched, nearly pulling his hand away but stopping himself at the last moment.

With the softest movements he could manage, Steve got Eddie’s fingers as soapy as he could before slowly working his rings left and right, pulling them off his fingers.

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t quite a whisper but the question was low, almost like a hum.

“Your fingers are going to start to swell soon. I can leave them on if you’d rather have them cut off later?” Steve looked up to see Eddie watching their hands working together under the dribble of the tap. 

He shook his head.

“Well okay then.” He tugged the last ring free and examined them, silver and wet and heavy in his palm. 

There was still some dried blood in the grooves. 

“Did you at least get him good with these?” He gestured to them before placing them carefully to the side and gently towling Eddie’s injured hand dry.

A smirk tugged at the uninjured side of Eddie’s mouth. “You’re damn right I did.”

Steve gave a short sharp nod, placing Eddie’s hand back in his lap. “Good.” 

He moved over to the freezer, pulling out his own cold compress which Eddie hadn’t chosen for some reason and tugging the first aid kit from on top of the fridge.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” He said, trying to keep his voice even and his posture lighthearted as he laid the stuff out next to Eddie’s leg. He pulled their second drawer open and took a clean dish towel out, running it under the tap.

“Why, Stevie? You worried about me?” Eddie tried to grin but it quickly turned into a grimace as Steve pressed the damp cloth against the cut on his eyebrow, his lips turning down.

“Don’t be precious about it, honey. Just tell me. I’ll never stop pestering you until you do.” He pulled the cloth away and started gently brushing it across Eddie’s skin, trying to remove as much of the dried blood as he could.

“Alright, alright, keep your wig on.” Eddie huffed and pulled his mouth into a frown before shrugging again. ”Well I’m single now.”

Steve managed to keep his hands working, only halting for just a second as the words hit him. “Rick did this?”

“Yep.” Eddie said with a pop. “Everything was going good, you know. Standard date stuff, whatever. Then I asked him to come meet Wayne and he looked at me. Said, and I quote; ‘What exactly do you think this is?’”

Eddie snorted and shook his head. 

Steve was forced to pull the cloth away to stop tugging on the broken skin. “Wait so-”

“So apparently I’ve been seeing this whole thing as more serious than it was. Apparently I’ve been putting feelings where there were none. And get this,” he grabbed Steve’s hand, stalling his movements again and forcing him to look into those giant deep brown eyes, “he’s married.”

Steve felt his mouth drop open in an indignant stare. “No.”

“Yeah. I know, right? I’ve been the other woman this whole time.” He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “Just a bit of fun.” He tongued at his split lip. "And it's my problem, my fault that I didn't figure it out, according to him." He shook his head, forcing Steve to retract his hand from around his eye. "The fucker took his wedding band off every time we met, so…"

Rather than grabbing Eddie gently by the chin, which he was really, quite horrifyingly tempted to do, he instead said, "Be a dear and stop moving."

Eddie levelled him with a glare but there wasn't much behind it, it was all performative even as he tutted and started twisting the chain on his jeans around in his fingers. But he stopped moving his head.

"So how did that lead to this?"

Eddie scoffed. "How do you think, Mary? I got mad."

"Well good. You should've been mad. Did you throw the first punch?"

"Technically?" Eddie hummed in consideration. "Yes. But he had his hands on me before that soo…"

Steve froze, he couldn’t help it. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

"In what way?" He kept his voice light but the bright white concern underneath was like a foghorn. 

Eddie shrugged again and turned his head, giving Steve more access to the blood crusted above his ear and into his hairline. 

Then he leaned forward just a little bit more until his forehead was resting against Steve's shoulder.

Steve reached back to pull Eddie's hair out of the way, over the back of his neck so he could clean up his hairline.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, the silence wasn't tense but it wasn't calm either. It was anticipatory. Eddie was building himself up to answer.

"He didn't see a problem with the situation, I mean obviously he didn't see a problem with the situation so he just wanted to… continue, I suppose. We'd been… experimenting with switching before this and he tried to go full dom on me. Kept trying to get me to submit." Eddie's voice had started to shake even though he tried valiantly to keep it down and it made Steve wonder just how long he'd been keeping it down already. 

Steve dropped the cloth off in the sink and brought a hand up, resting it on the back of Eddie's still bent head, making sure not to cage him in, making sure to keep his touches light and gentle but still there if he wanted them.

"I didn't- I didn't want to anymore but he just kept going and I told him he wasn't asking my consent, he was demanding it. He said I had to do what he wanted because he was in charge and that’s how it works-” 

“Eddie, that is not how it works-”

“Yes, thank you, darling. I know that. I told him that wasn't what's done, no matter the dynamics and he was just getting more and more pissed off, like I was ruining his fun and he wouldn’t get off of me so I just… fucking decked him." Eddie laughed, a terrible broken thing. “I thought… I thought we had… it had been so good while… why can’t I have… why does it always have to end like this?”

His voice had become harsher, more defeated as he went on, cracking and pitching along the words until the end. Until a heart wrenching choked off sound was pulled from his throat.

Eddie was weeping softly into Steve’s shoulder and his hands were twitching in his lap, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted some comfort but didn’t know if he was allowed. 

But he must have decided he didn’t care if he was allowed or not because the next second he’d thrown his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, sniffling openly and freely into his neck.

Steve took the tiniest of steps closer and wound his arms around Eddie’s middle, bypassing his leather jacket and battle vest, snaking his arms underneath until there was just the threadbare band t-shirt between them.

He ran a hand up and down Eddie’s back as he shook, while Eddie just clutched on tighter.

“Why does it always have to be… why can’t I… why…” a terrible little sob broke out of Eddie’s throat. “Why does no one ever want me the way I want them?”

Steve had to pinch his eyes shut against the pure heartbreak in his voice, coming out halting and thick and so small. 

He just held him tighter, whispering little placating words and small shushes that he felt more in his chest than he did his throat. 

He hesitated for just a moment before placing a light little kiss to the side of Eddie’s head, into his hair. The same kind of kiss he’d give to Robin or one of the kids if they were in the same situation. 

That was all.

“God.” Eddie muttered, pulling back and scrubbing his hands roughly over his eyes and nose, apparently uncaring of his injuries. “Your shirt is fucking disgusting.” He eyed the stains and wet patches and no doubt little traces of blood he’d accidentally left there. “What makes you think that’s an appropriate state to appear in?”

Steve just rolled his eyes, taking the lighthearted jab for what it was, a want to move on, to start snarking again and cracked open the first aid kit. 

“Your face is disgusting.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the one who’s been cleaning me up, sweetheart. So, who’s fault is that?”

He glanced up at the cut over Eddie’s eyebrow. 

“That might need stitches.”

“No stitches, can’t be bothered with stitches.”

“Stitches not punk enough for you?”

Eddie did glare at him for that.

“Don’t even. You know I’m not a punk.”

Steve grinned at him. “No?”

“Steven.”

Even through the heavy talk, Steve relished the sight of the slight smile that had appeared on Eddie’s face and his return to bitchy banter.

“Edward, is there a difference?” Steve shrugged as he fished for supplies in the kit. “Doesn’t seem to be.”

“To you, maybe.” Eddie flicked at a piece of his hair. “God you’re such a… you’re such a jock.”

“Wow,” Steve raised his eyebrows, “let’s add observant to your list of positives.”

“Assho-ow!” Eddie shrieked as Steve pressed a butterfly bandage over the wound.

“You’re a giant pain in my ass.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Eddie growled at him, irritated and snappy, “you perpetual bottom.”

“Excuse you,” Steve snapped back, “I switch it up. I have versatility."

“Uh-huh.”

“But you gotta admit,” Steve flashed his most charming grin, “it’s a lovely bottom.”

Eddie scoffed but there was a red flush starting to creep up his neck. “S’not like I pay much attention to your bottom.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Steve gave a disappointed sigh, “everyone pays attention to my bottom.”

He didn’t get a response, just a bitchy roll of the eyes.

“You gonna call out of work tomorrow?” He dropped the cloth into the sink and crossed his arms as Eddie leaned back on his hands.

“Why? So you can mother hen me all day? No, thank you.”

“Oh sweetie.” Steve regarded him with mock sympathy. “You think you’d be lucky enough to get my mothering?”

“What if I die in my sleep tonight? You’d be inconsolable.”

“Yeah. Simply devastated.” He said as he all but pushed Eddie off the counter and herded him back to his room.

Part 2 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut (I remember you showing interest for this one but I won't tag you again unless you ask! 😘)

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

[wynnyfryd]

morning person steve making night owl eddie breakfast but he won’t stop making stupid egg puns

steve: i could do some scrambled eds…

eddie: steve.

steve: eds over easy, maybe some poached eds…

eddie: steve i beg of you

steve: got it!

eddie: …

steve: eds benedict 😊

eddie: i want a divorce

[shares-a-vest]

I feel like over the past week and a half, I have been any given one of the trio in this ficlet. So yeah, I'm projecting onto my blorbos. Enjoy!

Eddie can sense Steve isn't in bed when he blinks awake. It's still dark out and the apartment is freezing. Well, Eddie is freezing without the furnace-like warmth of his boyfriend curled into his side.

He looks over at Steve's nightstand to find that the alarm clock only reads a little past 3am and that's when he begins to panic. It's nowhere near time for Steve's early morning run, nor is it a reasonable enough hour that he might be pottering about in the living room.

So, Eddie hops out of bed and is immediately hit by the winter chill of the two-bed apartment he and Steve share with Robin.

He shivers as he walks into the hallway, where he finds the apartment still shrouded in an icy darkness. He chances a peek into Robin's room, where he finds his housemate sound asleep and snoring, lying in the middle of her bed and certainly without the company of her best friend.

Steve has nightmares – hell, the three of them do. But Steve usually ends up with Robin if the situation arises.

Eddie continues on, now tucking his hands under his armpits, hugging himself as he dips his chin into the loosened neck-hole of his oversized sweater – a maroon-coloured former Harrington Classic.

He tiptoes along so as not to disturb Robin, almost sliding his socks along the floorboards as he makes his way into the living area, his path illuminated by outside street lamps.

Eddie tsks under his breath when he comes across Steve, curled in on himself as he lays soundly asleep on the couch, his nail bat close by on the floor.

Steve hums, or more shivers – visibly freezing as he sleeps in nothing more than an old pair of gym shorts whose material Eddie suspects might evaporate the next time they find themselves in one of the building's shoddy washing machines.

He sits by his boyfriend's side and places a hand on Steve's shoulder, desperate to stir him enough to coax him back to bed, but not spook him entirely.

"Sweetheart," he stage-whispers as Steve grumbles.

"Hmm?" he murmurs before startling awake. His eyes snap to attention and he looks up at Eddie as he speaks full volume, his voice groggy, "I heard a noise."

Steve rubs at his arms, the iciness of their surroundings hitting him now that he is (at least, partially) conscious.

"Love, I need you to come back to bed, it's freezing out here."

"But, I heard a noise," Steve whines, sitting up now.

Eddie can't help it, he presses his palm to Steve's cheek and his heart skips a beat at just how cold he feels.

"Shit," he curses and loops his arm around Steve's middle, commanding, "Bed, now."

Steve grumbles, but complies, lazily reaching for his bat before they both stand up as one. Eddie takes his boyfriend's weight, the bat dragging along by Steve's side as they shuffle back towards their bedroom.

Steve shivers and continues mumbling something about the noise he heard. And Eddie can't tell if it was an actual noise or something heard in that strange (and admittedly, scary) space between wake and sleep. Whatever it is, Steve seems both frightened and stubborn all in one.

He shudders again and Eddie can't bring himself to bite his tongue any longer.

"Baby, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Typically, he'd be all over Steve in such a state of undress – with all that hair and muscle. But right now, his arms are peppered with goosebumps and his eyes are starting to droop with every step.

"Got hot before," Steve explains, weary.

They pass by Robin's bedroom and the door opens fully, revealing a duvet-covered mass and in the darkness, Eddie can still spot a frown.

"What's going on?" she asks, voice like gravel but nonetheless worried.

"I heard a noise, Robbie."

His tone pains Eddie from his heart down to his gut and the same must happen to Robin too because, in an instant, she retreats to her room in haste.

Eddie continues on to his and Steve's bedroom and gently lowers Steve onto the edge of the bed before he takes the baseball bat. He makes a show of rolling it back under the bed but Steve isn't watching. Instead, his boyfriend is looking over at Robin, who has reappeared, cradling a handful of items and hunching her shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep some kind of hold on her blanket.

Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and crosses her as he heads off in search of a sweater. He rifles through a drawer and listens on to what sounds like Robin crowding the nightstand with her stuff before she swishes about the excess bedding. Steve whines and Eddie turns back to find Robin with her arm around her best friend.

"Alright," Eddie says, holding out a navy sweater, "Time for bed."

He gestures for Steve to lift his arms up and he complies. It takes a moment, but Eddie wrestles the near-dead weight of Steve into a cozy sweater before he lifts his legs to help him into bed.

"In the middle, Dingus," Robin instructs, "And don't snore."

"How about, you don't fart," Steve quips, shuffling into the middle nonetheless.

There's a bitchy lilt to Steve's voice that has Eddie relaxing a little. He rolls his eyes, thinking the pair burrowing under the covers will probably bicker on. But honestly, he'd prefer that to the balled-up, half-naked, scared Steve he found out in the living room.

Eddie exchanges a glance with Robin before she reaches for the nightstand and grabs a hot water bottle, her Walkman, a notepad and a pencil.

"What the hell are you doing?" Eddie grouses, rounding his side of the bed – thankful to slip back under the covers.

But he pauses mid-way, distracted now as Robin juggles with her wears.

"I need my things," she grumbles as she places the hot water bottle on her stomach and dry sobs, "Oh no, it has gone cold!"

Steve rolls his eyes in Robin's direction, more sleepily than annoyed.

"Eddie, go get some hot water," he mumble-commands, turning to snuggle in close to his best friend.

"What?"

"Eddie..."

"Fine," he reaches for the hot water bottle and snatches it from Robin's grasp.

Eddie thinks he must love his boyfriend a lot, considering how he freezes his ass off to a doubled-over, teeth-chattering level in the several minutes it takes for their stupid kettle to warm up. And by the time he gets back to the bedroom, Robin is quietly snoring with Steve tucked into her side, the two of them forming a single hair-filled mass of platonic soulmatedness.

Eddie tucks the hot water bottle under Robin's covers as best he can and resumes his spot, giggling at the thought of the inevitable drool that is going to make its way into Steve's hair at some point. He snuggles in behind Steve, forming a cocoon around him and his boyfriend snuffles at the touch.

"It's okay, Stevie," he says, kissing him just behind the ear, "Get some sleep. Don't think about the noise. You're safe here with me and Rob."

"What about my ba –"

"It's back under the bed, sweetheart," Steve hums at that, relaxing against him, "We'll figure out the noise in the morning, I promise."

"'Kay," Steve breathes more than speaks as sleep overcomes him, "Love... you."

"I won't let anything hurt you, Steve," Eddie says, hugging him tight.

[rottenaero]

What if Steve got kicked out of his parent’s house after season 2?

He was already on thin ice after s1, with the beers and his fight with Jonathan, but after he got into ANOTHER fight with Billy they’re just kinda like, ‘pack your shit and leave’

And after a few weeks of living out of his car in the school parking lot, Eddie notices him after Hellfire and just kinda like, offers his house as a place to stay.

Of course Steve is like, ‘nah, ill be fine’ because he doesn’t want to freeload, but Eddie is absolutely not having it and convinces him that he wouldn’t be, and that he can pay him and do chores and shit if he really feels that bad about it.

Then Steve just starts living with him, of course there are rules, don’t invite people over, don’t talk about Eddie’s business, and don’t talk about the shit in his room.

The rest is the standard criteria, don’t bring animals in, don’t burn the house down, blah blah blah.

Course Wayne is a bit mad about this random guy with the last name Harrington at first, but the guy makes him coffee before he leaves for work, and is willing to put on a goddamn sailor costume to pay help pay the rent, so eventually they become acquaintances.

Eventually turning into the two watching sports on the tv and laughing at Eddies antics.

Thing is, during this whole thing, no one knows they live together. Dustin and the party don’t get much more than i moved out with a friend after the first time they ask to hang out at his house, and Hellfire just knows he has a roommate, not that its Steve, because all his shit is in the living room and hes always working when they’re over.

One day, mid-lunch, they decide to hang out at Eddie’s after school and he's all cool with it but is like ‘wait, my roommates off, let me go ask them if its okay’ and they're like ‘sure, okay, I wonder who it is?’

Then he waltzes straight up to Steve Harrington, who’s sitting by Nancy and Jonathan, and asks.

“Hellfires coming over afterschool, you good with that?”

“Yeah sure, do whatever, its your damn house, I can get out your hair if you want?”

“Nah nah, its all good, want you to meet ‘em anyway. Hey hey, wanna sit with us today?”

“Sure.”

Then Eddie heads back to the now silent Hellfire table (actually the whole cafeteria is a little silent) and sits down in his seat, Steve sitting in the empty one next to him.

Hellfire is absolutely confused, not just because Steve lives with him, but because of the very talked upon rumors about Eddie being gay, and how very true they were, and the fact that as a former-king, Steve should know that.

Steve however, seems very unconcerned with those rumors because for as close as Eddie keeps getting to him, even holding his bicep at some point, he acts very chill and relaxed, even leaning into him at some points.

Hellfire eventually calm down, and go to his house after school, and around 10 they decide to just stay the night. Eddie gives them a thumbs up, and turns to Steve.

“You’re bunking with me tonight.”

“Cool.”

Gareth starts panicking because there is a very obvious pride flag above one of his posters and he may not have seen it before and Eddie is so getting beaten up.

Except none of that happens. They wake up early that morning and Steve starts getting ready for work, and is about to leave when he turns to Eddie with a smirk.

“What, no goodbye kiss? Too dorky to do in-front of you friends?” And Eddie strolls right past the flabbergasted Hellfire and plants one on his temple.

“Goodbye o-great-king-of-assholery!”

Gareth quite literally chokes.

(What makes this even better? They’re not even dating, thats just Steve-being-Steve)

Part 2

Ao3

[hairmetal666]

By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.

She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.

"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.

"Steve Harrington."

"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"

"Oh, er--just me, actually."

Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"

Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."

So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.

Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.

"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"

Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"

Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit," Steve smiles.

"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."

"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.

After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.

---

Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.

He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"You alright, man?" Steve asks.

Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."

His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."

He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"

He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.

"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.

Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.

---

It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.

He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.

Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.

He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.

Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.

"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.

"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.

"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."

Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.

He is so weird.

---

In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.

Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.

Flirting with her is easy.

He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.

It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"

Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.

It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.

"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.

He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.

Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.

---

They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.

They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.

Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.

Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.

A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.

Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.

Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.

He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.

He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.

---

When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Have you seen my notebook?"

"What?" Steve's heart drops.

"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.

Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.

"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.

They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.

"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."

"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.

The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.

"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.

"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie guessed that it was his own fault for waiting the last second to get a new one. He thought that he’d be able to wait it out. He was on the edge of graduating from his apprenticeship at the shop, so, so close to being able to afford the apartment completely on his own. But then his boss had to go and make it clear that nothing was happening until the New Year, a solid three months away.

His paycheck to paycheck life style wasn’t gonna cut it for that long. And that's how we found himself desperate enough to post a Craig’s list ad. What did he think was going to happen? That he’d get the creme of the crop? No. The only applicants he’d had were a chronic cigarette smoker who couldn’t wait to light up until after the apartment tour, a middle-aged guy who immediately told him that his ferrets free-roaming around the house was a non-negotiable, and some dude who wore polo shirts and looked like he fell out of a highschool rom-com. 

He should have chosen the smoker. But no, he had to go with the eye-candy. Despite the fact that he knew Steve would never look twice his way, even with the low odds that he even liked men. 

But he couldn’t help it. 

Eddie had been a failure when it came to romance ever since he moved out of his uncle’s place. Twenty-four years of conservative small town bullshit, all culminating into a completely lack of ability when it came to getting laid. Three more completely dedicated to making something of himself out in the city. He hadn’t been prepared to ward-off the model with the puppy dog eyes and the sob story of his last place flooding. 

Though in his defense, it wasn’t just from his extremely horny mind. Steve seemed polite enough when they first met. He was surprisingly sweet for someone openly wearing Ralph Lauren. So when he said that he could move in immediately, Eddie was sold. He didn’t even think to question Steve paying his first month of rent in cash. He was just relieved the worry about getting kicked out was officially gone. 

The first week had been fine enough. Eddie met a few of his friends who were helping him move in. It was a gaggle of twenty-one year olds, oddly enough.

“I was their babysitter,” Steve had sighed when Eddie asked about it, his eyes fond, “They got a little too attached. Now I’m an underage uncle for life.”

It was cute, another point towards Eddie’s slight pining. But then, Steve went back to work. 

Eddie didn’t care that he worked a night shift. He could understand that, tip-based work was pretty lucrative. He was pretty sure Steve was a bartender or something considering the crazy hours. He could handle a few bumps in the night while he got situated.

What Eddie couldn’t handle was Steve’s multi-hour long, middle of the night routine. He’d get home at three a.m. 

And yeah, maybe Eddie hadn’t been totally upfront about the downsides of this place when he got Steve to sign the sublet. Despite the price, their walls were paper thin. The advertised “soundproofing” of the place had only applied to hearing the neighbors. You could hear everything in this place, from the front door to their insanely loud showerhead. A fact that he assumed Steve would catch up on without Eddie having to act like an RA. 

With him and Gareth having basically the same schedule, Eddie had forgotten just how loud things could be. But Steve quickly gave him a reminder. Without fail, he’d hop into the shower first thing, the sound of the water pounding against the ceramic more than enough to wake Eddie up. Not to mention the singing. The good quality of his voice did not make up for the fact that it was tortuous at night. 

But it didn’t stop there. No, then he’d go to his room and talk for hours. Eddie had no fucking idea what kind of freak was sharing a five a.m. time table, but it was killing him. Whoever it was knew how to rile Steve up like no other, his laughter so clear through out the night that Eddie couldn’t focus on anything else. It was a lot, it was intense, and Eddie was losing his fucking mind. He tried to find time to talk to him about it, be civil about the whole thing. But when Eddie woke up Steve was dead to the world. When Eddie got home from work, Steve was already gone for his own. 

That’s how he found himself here. Wide awake for the fourth night in a row while Steve’s voice streamed through the walls. Every passing second had his pathetic crush on the man dissolving more and more. The last bastion between Steve and Eddie telling him to fuck off. 

an excerpt from my soon to be exchange fic. Of course I'm an extension needing bitch 😩😩😩

[spicycinnabun]

“Sugar, please?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked, surprised. “Uh, sure.” He laughed—hesitated—laughed again, and then leaned across the table and kissed Steve right on the mouth.

He realized his apocalyptic mistake about a millisecond later.

Steve licked his lips as Eddie pulled away, stunned and confused. “Thanks… but I meant that sugar.”

He pointed to the canister sitting near Eddie’s elbow. Eddie’s gaze fell to the bowl of bland shredded wheat Steve had in front of him.

“Right. Of course you did.” Eddie grabbed the canister and slid it across the table so hard it fell to the floor. “Okay, I’m going to retreat to a cave in the middle of the wilderness and not resurface for another… oh, eighty years or so.”

[wheneverfeasible]

Link to original post here

-

Now, I am in no way shape or form discounting OP’s sexuality here, but I really couldn’t help reading this and thinking immediately of Steddie.

Steve is at a metal show for some reason, maybe Robin dragged him along because the chick she was interested in/seeing is a metalhead and went to the concert with her but Robin was too nervous to go alone. Maybe Dustin got tickets and couldn’t go, or took Steve with him. It doesn’t matter, Steve is there.

And he is thriving.

The music is loud but it thrums through him in a way that feels like a release, it vibrates through him and all the overstimulation he felt before is being drawn out of him. Then he gets caught in the pit and he can finally just let loose and not have to worry about anything for a moment.

Maybe he isn’t necessarily a fan of metal music as a genre but he is in a sensory way. Maybe this isn’t even his first metal show, maybe the above reasons were why he first went to a show, but now he goes on his own and actually enjoys it.

In any case, he’s there and he’s wild and he’s dehydrated and he’s pressing against other bodies and he can’t get enough.

Enter Eddie, who sees this bizarre creature absolutely thrashing while still wearing mostly pastels and he can tell the poor guy is dehydrated and going a little too hard maybe and he’s used to take care of others so he grabs him and “open your mouth” and Steve complies so easily and so prettily.

It’s just to check on him, then later to pass him a bottle of water, and then maybe, later that night when Steve wonders if maybe he’s not quite as straight as he always thought he was, Eddie grabs his jaw and tells him “open your mouth” again and Steve is all too happy to comply.

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

[bleedingoptimism]

𝑜𝑚𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠

Steve loves his roommate. He’s funny and witty and knows so much about everything. And he’s kind of an asshole, but in a good way. Like, he doesn't take shit from anyone way. He would never hurt someone on purpose and he apologizes immediately if he does, kind of way.

When Steve first moved in with him, Eddie was kind of quiet and reserved, but once they started talking, getting to know each other, he showed just how wonderful he was. So, Steve really liked Eddie. The problem was… Steve kind of liked-liked Eddie. But he had no idea if Eddie liked him back. 

Until… he noticed Eddie’s nightly pauses outside his bedroom. 

The thing is, Steve has always had trouble sleeping. He’s never managed to just fall asleep when he hits the bed, it always takes a while and he sleeps very lightly. Usually waking up at least once in the middle of the night. But it’s fine, he’s used to it and he doesn't need much sleep to function properly, so he’s managed. 

The problem is, sometimes, when he’s stressed or anxious about something, he doesn't sleep at all. It's awful and it stresses him out even more. 

When he was in high school, he was in the middle of a really bad episode when he finally decided to talk to his father about it to see if there was something he could do to help. Silly Steve, thought maybe his dad would take him to a doctor but he just told him to lay down and pretend to be asleep until he actually was, so that his body would get the rest anyway and not shut down. Not exactly helpful.

Steve worked through his anxiety for having sleeping problems by doing yoga a couple of years after that. But, for some reason, when he can’t sleep, he still does what his dad told him. And pretends to be asleep.

So that's why he noticed Eddie stopping by his door every night. He didn't catch it right away. The first time he’d heard Eddie come home, drop his keys on the kitchen counter, and stroll down the hall to his room, it wasn't until he started moving again that Steve noticed he had stopped outside his door. 

He figured there had to be an explanation and put the thought aside but the next night, he did it again. And the next. And the next.

And Steve… Steve started looking forward to it. Playing with it a bit. Trying to figure out what underwear made Eddie stay the longest, laying in the bed in positions that he knew made him look good. He started wondering if Eddie would ever… come inside his room. If he could make him do it. Tempt him enough.

He realized too, that he was sleeping well again. That he always fell asleep right after Eddie looked at him and left for his room. And wasn't that something?

During the day, they both acted the same and nothing seemed weird. But during the night. Steve waited for Eddie, and Eddie looked.

And then, a couple of weeks into it, Steve is lying on his bed, waiting for Eddie to come home and his mind starts wandering, and he fantasies about Eddie, walking inside his room, looking at him from up close, waking him up with a soft touch of his knuckles on Steve’s cheek only for Steve to be already awake, waiting for him. He imagines Eddie touching him everywhere. Telling Steve what parts are the ones he stares at the most. What are the parts he wants to lick. To bite. 

Steve doesn't realize he’s hard until he hears the door open and he freezes, he can’t run to his door and shut it, there’s no time, the apartment it’s too small! Eddie will be here in no time. And he can't turn around and face the wall because he’ll make noise, Eddie will hear. So he just pretends to be asleep, as usual. Except he’s hard and he knows it's evident because he’s wearing his tight white boxers Eddie seems to like the most and they leave nothing to the imagination. He hopes Eddie will just think Steve is dreaming or something.

And he trains his ear, nervously trying to hear every step as Eddie walks down the hall. And stops in front of his door.

And he hears the softest ‘fuck’ like it was punched out of him. And then nothing. Eddie is just standing there, and Steve knows he’s looking at him. And he stays a while, the longer he’s ever stayed and Steve, he’s getting more and more turned on and he keeps hoping he’ll hear the footsteps come closer and not away. His dick twitches at the thought and he hears Eddie gasp and then the footsteps… Away from him, toward Eddie’s room. 

Steve turns to lie on his back and huffs. He needs to make a decision. To either stop this before it gets worse or... Do something about it. And then he hears it. A couple of minutes after Eddie shut his door. A muffled moan. Jesus Fucking Christ. Steve is lying on his bed, hard and thinking about Eddie, and Eddie is touching himself, thinking about him. This is ridiculous. 

He comes to a decision. Tomorrow. He’s doing something about it.

𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑

a coffee? while we wait... ☕🥐💕

(first part) 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠

(you are here!) 𝑜𝑚𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠

(last past) 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 3-The Agreement.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—Three boys and one girl under one roof proves to be more difficult than they thought. To restore peace in the land, an agreement is made.

Warnings/Extras—strong language, drinking and smoking, bugs, sexual tension, MDNI-18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Jesse was a very messy individual when he lived in 406D. The baseboards are caked with dust, the windows have a strange film on them and the carpet is littered with mysterious stains. I spend several days deploying an arsenal of chemicals to tackle the mess, windows open and chill August air drafting through the room. After a particularly grueling day on my hands and knees scrubbing at the spots on the floor to very little prevail, I decide that a quick spray of disinfectant before covering it with a rug is my best bet. I dig through the closet in the hallway for a broom to dust the cobwebs in the corners, coming up empty-handed.

“Boys,” I breathe, entering the living room. The three of them sit in the living room, smooshed onto the couch and flipping through TV channels. They perk up to look at me. “Where’s the broom?”

“In the trash, along with the mop after Eddie and Jesse used them to joust,” Steve says casually, clicking buttons on the remote.

“I won, by the way,” Eddie grins, pointing at himself.

Steve looks to him, bewildered. “You did not.”

“Right. I’ve gotta go check on the storage unit anyways so, I’m going to run to the store and pick up some furniture and supplies that are for cleaning only,” I give Eddie a pointed look and he rolls his eyes. “Anyone care to lend a hand?”

“We’ll take my car,” Ben stands, brushing some crumbs off his shirt from the chips he was munching on.

“Your little Mazda’s not gonna fit everything…” I trail off, raising my brow at Eddie.

He scoffs. “Oh, okay. So we all hate Gloria until she’s useful,”

“You named the van? You weirdo.” Steve says, eyes never leaving the TV.

The van—Gloria—really is a disgrace to motor vehicles everywhere. It’s a death box on wheels. I’m pretty sure the engine is powered by dust and spite, and it’s got this rattle when left idling for too long. I’m not sure how a mechanic lets his own car get so out of shape—But Gloria’s got space, and we’re gonna need it.

“Alright, fine. But no one drives my babygirl but me, so… I’m coming with you,” Eddie stretches out of his seat.

Steve stands too, running his hands through his hair. I swallow hard and try not to stare at them.

“Our first adventure as a family, how exciting!” Eddie exasperates dramatically, arms outstretched at his sides.

“Shut up, man.” Steve snickers, grabbing Eddie’s keys out of a glass bowl by the front door and tossing them at him. Eddie catches the keys, blowing a kiss to Steve afterwards, earning him a cacophony of groans and eye rolls.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The car wobbles side to side, tossing me around in my seat. Eddie swerves all over the road like a maniac, dodging pot holes and probably a few stray animals. Ben sits in the front seat, yelling at him. Steve and I occupy the back seat on opposite sides. My whole body burns and tingles, my palms sweat as I chew on my nails and stare out the window. I swear can feel his eyes on me but I’m too terrified to look, as I might just combust on sight if I’m right.

It’s been a century since I’ve had a crush on someone. I’ve forgotten how miserable it is: constantly checking that my hair looks okay, hoping my makeup hasn’t smudged, scared to even breathe wrong.

This sucks ass.

A massive cement building comes into view and we pull into the parking lot. The department store is surprisingly empty on this Sunday afternoon, and Ben tells me it’s because most people in Chicago are already out drinking this time of day.

Steve pipes in with his agreement and I make the mistake of stealing a look at him. I just can’t help myself, but I immediately regret it. He’s already looking at me, hair tussled to one side and mustard sweater bunched up at his midsection as he leans against the backrest, lips parted slightly and staring at me with those big brown eyes.

I’m doomed.

The vacant isles of the store are illuminated by an uncomfortable white light that occasionally flickers. I feel like we’re in a low-budget horror movie, an unsettling and eerie feeling sitting thick over the air. Feeling suffocated, I pick up my pace towards the Home and Kitchen section.

“Look at this fuckin’ thing,” Eddie says like a child discovering something for the first time, slapping a giant fuzzy rug hung on a rack. It wiggles under his pressure and he’s transfixed, disregarding our existence.

I shake my head. “Never shopped for rugs before. Where do I even begin?”

Ben gives me a breathy laugh, squeezing my shoulder. “I'll look for one and make him haul it to the car. Any color preferences?”

I shrug. “Cheapest one. And uh, don’t let him pick something stupid,” I find amusement in Eddie’s antics, and he clearly does as well.

“Harrington, you're on furniture duty,” Ben puts on his best serious face, pointing at his best friend like a drill sergeant. He jogs backward, disappearing into the rug aisle. "Don't screw it up!" echos through the halls, dampened by the walls of carpet, lampshades and throw pillows.

I giggle, wrapping my arms around myself anxiously and swaying in place.

He gleams down at me, arms open at his sides. "What's first?"

I rub my eyes, needing to do something with my hands despite it smudging what little makeup I had the energy to put on today. "Pray to any God willing to listen that this doesn't permanently annihilate my bank account." Joking usually helps me feel better about situations like this, but this time it's just straight-up depressing.

But Steve, ever a ray of sunshine, breaks through my gloom with his light. "It's not all that bad. Let's see... what do we need?" He spins around, taking it all in. "Bed, nightstand, dresser, all that stuff right? You'll need a bed tonight, that's non-negotiable--but I've got a friend who owns a thrift shop on The Loop with her girlfriend. They're always getting furniture in there. Bet they'd let us snag some stuff at a good price," he's rambling now, talking with his hands as we stroll the rows of overpriced furniture.

I just listen to him talk, the sound of his voice entrancing.

God, I've got to get away from this man.

"Thank you, Steve. I really appreciate it," I smile meekly, reaching to mess with my hair but stopping myself right before.

"Anytime, Sunny." he responds quietly, and butterflies assault my stomach.

I want to ask him about the nickname, but I don’t want to spoil the moment. Honestly, I don't have the emotional capacity to handle the--probably dull--answer either. I like to think it means something, but the likely case is that it's a placeholder; An easy gateway to forgetting me when my residence in Apartment 406D comes to an end. It's not like I'll be spending the rest of my life with these guys. My brother, sure, not that I've had much of a choice. I'm stuck with that jerk until I die.

Steve and I pick out the cheapest--yet somehow still outrageously priced--bed and mattress the store offers. Steve rolls them out on a bright yellow cart provided by the cashier. The others have obviously been waiting for a while, as Eddie smokes a cigarette under a streetlamp a few feet away while Ben leans against the outside of the passenger door skimming through a packet of papers.

I squint against the encroaching darkness, making out the big University Housing Office title through the transparent page.

If your stomach can physically drop into your ass, mine definitely just did.

"Oh, shit," I use my last bit of breath to whisper to Steve.

He pauses to observe my brother's scowl. "He looks pissed."

For the second time in a week, I accept my death.

Ben hears us approach and looks up at me through his eyebrows. There he goes, looking like our dad again. I tremble.

I'm fucked.

He waves the packet in the air. "What's this?"

Steve leaves the cart next to the van and retreats to Eddie, leaving my brother and I to talk.

Traitor, don't leave me here!

"I was gonna tell you," I lie.

He glowers. "No, you weren't."

"Yeah, you're right, I weren't," I blurt out in distress. "Fuck, wasn't. No, I wasn't gonna tell you,"

"You realize I'm a lawyer, right? I can help you contest this," he offers.

"You're a baby lawyer and you've done enough for me by letting me live in your house," I counter.

His features soften and then, to my complete shock, he laughs. I'm apprehensive, waiting for him to pull out his typical disapproving glare and snide remarks that remind me I’ll never be as smart, cunning, or on top of things as he is.

"Trust me, Bug. You moving in does me a more of a favor than it does you," he tugs on my shoulder, gently directing me to look at Eddie and Steve. He points at them as we watch them visibly argue about something, only catching the tail end of their dispute.

"Goddammit Harrington! Do it or I'm gonna kiss you myself!" Eddie threatens, tensing in a wide stance. I furrow my brows and wonder what on earth they must be discussing.

Steve puts his hands out in front of him, bracing himself. "God, you're so weird! Why would you say that?!"

Eddie lurches forward and Steve takes off down the parking lot. They chase each other around light posts and parked cars.

"...is this a frequent occurrence?" I ask Ben quietly. I swear anytime I see those two in the same room they're bullying each other or…flirting? Challenging each other? I don’t even know.

He nods. "Oh yeah. They've been friends since high school. More siblings than friends, if I'm bein' honest. Guess they uh, both lost a lot of people back home. Came to Chicago together for a fresh start,"

We're both quiet for a long minute, listening to their voices echo through the desolate parking lot.

"Yeah, you're saving me from living alone with those two. We needed another adult in the house," Ben cackles, swinging the van door open. He wiggles the papers between us. "We're gonna fix this, okay?"

I purse my lips and nod, blinking rapidly to avoid spilling any tears. He frowns and pulls me into him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The tenseness in his body loosens a bit but not enough to break down the walls he's built, but I'll take the progress, as he creeps a little closer to feeling like the big brother I remember.

"C'mon. Let's go home." ⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Ben did an excellent job picking out a mock vintage rug with an array of colors that perfectly covered all of the mystery spots on the floor. I laid it out and put books from Steve’s room at all four corners to flatten it.

After dropping Steve and me off at home, Ben and Eddie went to the storage unit to collect my things. They've been gone for hours, a suspiciously long time for the project at hand, leaving Steve and I to get three beers deep and attempt to assemble my bedframe.

"Jesus, what're these in a different language?" he murmurs, polishing off his fourth beer and lifting the instructions in the air.

"It's upside down, Steven," I can hardly contain my laughter as I say it, giggles slipping through the fingers I cover my mouth with.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, they are," he admits, turning it in his hands. "Ah! There it is,"

"That big brain got you into UChicago?" I flirt on the defensive so I can pass it off as just being mean if I need to.

He smiles, lopsided. "Can you believe it?" he jokes.

"Let me guess. History major," I declare, scooting closer to look at the directions with him.

Though he's not looking at the pages anymore. He's staring a hole into the side of my head.

"Masters," he adds. "How'd you know?"

I shrug, leaving it ambiguous. I don't tell him I'd nosily asked Eddie when no one else was around, or that I'd spent hours on the University of Chicago's website looking at their History Department. Steve is highly distinguished by the History Department as one of their top students with several awards and accredits, but telling him I know that makes me sound like a stalker, so I keep it to myself.

"Y'know, my parents wanted me to go into Business," he slurs his words a bit. I try not to smile at him in a way that seems pitiful. "Didn't wanna end up like my hard-ass old man. It's all about money with him. Not even sure he's got a soul," he reaches behind me, inadvertently wrapping his arm around me to snatch another beer from the pack we left on the floor. Despite the several layers of fabric between us, his touch lights my skin on fire.

I swallow as he cracks open another beer. "I think you've had enough of these," I half-joke, taking it from him setting it on the opposite side of my body. He leans into me in a retrevial attempt but I move away from him. He puts all his weight on my shoulder, knocking me over. I snatch the beer and hold it over my head, barely out of his reach, but he continues his pursuit.

Maybe it’s the fact he’s so pretty, or maybe it’s the alcohol, but I allow his body to envelop mine. He encompasses me, body pressed on top of mine as we wrestle over a singular beer bottle. It’s stupid; he could just grab another one, but he doesn’t. His large hand wraps around mine, tugging the bottle closer to us. I move to use my other hand to free myself from him but he snatches it, pinning it down above my hand.

I giggle uncontrollably, both because I’m drunk and incredibly nervous.

It’s as if the sound awakens Steve from his trance, because he stills against me. Chests flush and noses a mere inch apart, his breath fans my face. He looks, dare I say, scared. That makes tow of us.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before recovering with a grin. “Always knew we’d end up in this position,” his voice is husky and he smells like a dangerous concoction of beer and cologne. He moves his other hand to my jaw, beverage long forgotten. He softly brushes some hair from my face with a finger, eyeing me intently.

“You’re such a weirdo,” I wiggle underneath him and he tenses, a labored breath escaping his throat. I open my mouth to tell him to get off of me, but the words die on my tongue as I feel something—someone—hard pressed against my thigh. I flush, coughing to have an excuse to turn my face away from him. Suddenly, it’s impossible to breathe. “Uh, Steve, you—“

I hear the front door open.

“We’re home!” Ben’s voice echos down the hall.

Steve and I can’t scramble off each other fast enough, a mess of limbs and strings of curses. He crawls away from me like I’m on fire. Flustered, I fix my hair and readjust my sweater. Steve busies himself with the instruction manual.

Suddenly sober, I watch as Ben enters the room, a ziplock bag in hand. I thank God for the distraction from Steve and lean heavily into it.

“I got it!” He cheers, wiggling the bag in his hand.

I furrow my brows. “You got…what?” I squint to get a closer look at the object in the clear bag.

“The key to solving your Dorm problem,” he moves it closer, and that’s when I see it. The tiny dead bodies of about five cockroaches. “I pulled their dead bodies out of your stuff,”

“That’s disgusting,” I gag, scurrying away from him.

“These little guys are coming with me to Campus Housing. We’re going to get you out of that lease.” He waives the bag of bugs around, and I damn near hurl as I remember the way they felt crawling on my skin. He’s so distracted by his victory, that it takes him a while to catch on to the heaviness in the room. “Hey, you two okay?”

“Yes!” I say a little too loud and fast.

Ben cocks his brow. “Steve, are you drunk?”

“What? No…” Steve squeaks.

“Uh huh…” my brother retorts, eyeing him suspiciously. As he turns to leave, he says “The manual’s upside down.”

“Oh goddammit, again?!” Steve complains drunkenly.

Eddie brushes past Ben in the doorway, leaning against its white frame on his forearm. “Oh, dude!” Eddie whines. “You guys drank all the beer!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Im convinced that sharing a bathroom with two men is a type of punishment in Hell. Toilet seats left up, beard trimmings in the sink, and toothpaste on the counters are just enough of an inconvenience to annoy me. I spent my first couple days cleaning when I’m not in class, seen as I’m the only unemployed one in the house. It’s a bitterly unrewarding task, though, as when the boys come home it’s like a hurricane wrecks the house. Eddie’s the biggest culprit, his motor-oil stained hands infecting everything he touches.

Everyday, I shower after the gym and before my 11AM class. Having memorized the boys’ schedules, I know they should all be at work by now. Singing my best rendition of Taylor Swift’s greatest hits, I step into the shower. I let the water cascade over my shoulders, trying to ground myself in reality. I try not to think about all the anxieties that loom over me.

Campus Housing. The start of college. My brother’s hot best friend that I now live with.

Steve’s either a forgetful idiot or he’s embarrassed about the other night, because he’s yet to mention it since it happened. I know we were drunk but— enough to completely forget? I could never. Mostly because I think I liked it.

The bathroom door creaks open, eerie and slow. I freeze in place, so scared that I wanna turn inside out.

No one’s supposed to be in the house.

I suddenly remember the movie Psycho that Daizy and I swiped from the video store and watched in secret when we were 16. Am I going to die here, naked and wet in the shower like Janet Leigh did, zero dignity to my name.

Heavy footsteps approach the shower. Boots, they’re wearing boots.

Through the sheer shower curtain, I make out the shape of the person. A man, based on their build. Skinny but broad shoulders and arms. He’ll easily be able to overpower me.

I try not to panic, scanning the shower for anything to defend myself. There’s a variety of bottles, a bar of soap and a singular razor that hangs from the mirror nailed to the wall. I snatch it, ripping the head apart to get the blade out of it. I grip the tiny razor blade in my hand, my only source of self-defense.

The man leans over the vanity, turning the sink on and washing his hands. I silently pick up each bottle until I find the heaviest three, setting them at my feet. I brace for a fight, opening the curtain just enough to toss the largest, heaviest bottle at the intruder. I hear the impact from beyond the shower curtain, a groan of pain leaving him. I quickly throw the next one and then the one after that in rapid succession.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I scream, hopefully loud enough for a neighbor to hear and call the cops.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” Eddie protests. “Can’t a man wash his hands without being abused by shower products?”

I peek my head out of the shower, wrapping the curtain around myself with one hand and holding the razor blade out with the other. Eddie looms over me, hands dripping with a mix of dirt, water, and oil.

“Goddammit, Eddie! I thought you were a predator!” I complain, the tension leaving my shoulders.

“And you were gonna… kill me with a blade from my razor?” He teases, pointing at the minuscule weapon I’d foraged.

I groan. “What’re you doing here anyways? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“Well, I live here. But if you must know, the shop’s closed due to a small fire,” he explains, drying his hands.

“Everything okay?” I gasp, wracking my brain through the possibilities. An engine fire, an oil fire, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m good,” he’s staring at me, eyes growing wider by the second. I—for the life of me—can’t figure out what he’s looking at, until he grins, “mind if I join you?”

“Ugh, gross,” I roll my eyes, closing the shower curtain aggressively. “Get out of here.”

“Breakin’ my heart, Sweetheart!” He sing-songs, pretending like he’s going to pull the curtain back by pinching it ever-so-slightly between two fingers.

“GET OUT, ED!” I screech.

His laughter gets further away until I can barely hear it through the thin walls of this ancient building. I huff, rinsing the soap out of my hair. Once the adrenaline has worn off and my body quits trembling, I laugh despite myself. Eddie’s blatant and unrelenting flirting is flattering, amusing, and terrifying all at once. I convince myself he’s just messing with me, because the alternative freaks me out too bad to even entertain it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

While sipping his coffee, never looking up from his coursework, Steve asked me if I’d like to visit his friend Robin’s thrift shop. The Loop’s occupied by buildings so tall they touch the moon; coffee shops, stores, restaurants… anything you can think of, it’s there. I’d never heard of it until Steve mentioned it. The Loop.

“Sounds made up,” I said over my breakfast.

“Everything’s made up.” Ben reminded me of the technicality, typing furiously at his computer.

When I agreed to go with Steve, his eyes lit up like someone had set a fire behind them. I was largely unmoved by it—I forced myself to be—but Ben shifted uncomfortably, staring at his best friend with an icy glare. They’d talked about something in private while Steve was getting ready in his room, right before we left. I ignored them as I found myself mulling over what to wear. Stupid, for such a basic activity. You’d think I was going on a date with how much I cared.

We stop by a coffee shop right next to the thrift store. There’s a Help Wanted sign taped to the door, and as I order my drink I muster up the bravery to inquire about it. A heavy set woman with a golden name tag labeled TRACY with the title ‘Manager’ scribed at the bottom tells me to come by next week with my resume for an interview.

I’m so giddy about the opportunity that I almost forget to listen to Steve’s order, but I do and commit it to memory.

16 ounce hot Americano with cream and one sugar packet. Somehow, it suits him so well.

I laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Steve asks, opening the door for me.

I shake my head and step outside just in time to see a pair of Mallard ducks cross the path, webbed feet flapping against the pavement.

“Holy shit, ducks!” I squeak, enthusiasm comparable to a kid in a candy store.

Steve laughs, a hearty sound that makes my heart flutter. “Yeah, they’re all over ‘round here. They come from the river,"

I kneel down, careful not to let my skirt fly up in the breeze. The ducks--a male and a female--quack, ruffling their feathers as they step a little quicker.

"Aw. They're on a date," I joke, standing up. Our shoulders bump into each other ever-so-slightly.

"Should I go buy a croissant to feed them?" Steve asks, smiling big.

I shake my head. "Bread's bad for them. Corn or oats are better,"

"Putting that biology major to good use," he jokes. His arm stretches outward like he's going to drape it over my shoulders, but flinches last minute and pretends to scratch his head instead.

"Actually," I fumble, hiding my blush with my hands. "I learned that on the internet."

There's that damned laugh again. It's addicting, a rush of dopamine tickling my brain every time I hear it.

I'm suspended in a trance-like state as I follow him to the thrift shop. Hawkins Place Thrift, the degenerated letters on the front of the building read. Baby blue paint peels off the brick and vintage clothes sit on mannequins in the shop windows.

When we enter, a bell above the door chimes. Steve holds the door open for me, and I step inside, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple drifting through the air. The shop is lit by a series of old lamps and candles that cast a warm glow throughout.

"Is that Steve Harrington I see?" a woman's voice calls over the jazz music playing from a record player. I spot her from a mile away, mom jeans and a denim jacket with a puffy polka dot blouse. She's got mousey brown hair that barely brushes her shoulders and a general loving disposition about her, especially as she bolts across the room to embrace Steve in a hug.

He hugs her back and they spin once around. "Jeez, Rob. You act like I died and came back to life or something," Steve chortles.

She lets go of him, a look of annoyance on her features. "You practically did! We haven't seen you in, like, a month! Where have you--"

She looks at me, her jaw hitting the floor. "Holy shit, this is where you've been. You got a girlfriend?!"

My heart plummets into my stomach. It’s not that I mind being called his girlfriend. I do however, mind the look on his face.

"Actually, she--" Steve's cut off by her rambling.

"You're so pretty, oh my God. I'm Robin. I'm Steve's friend, but you knew that," she gushes, ignoring Steve to shake my hand. "Did you guys meet at that rich kid school? What's it called?"

"The University of Chicago, and it's not a rich kid school. Rob listen for a second--" he corrects, hands on his hips and obviously stressed out.

"What do you major in? Sorry, I'm asking so many questions. Steve hasn’t had a girlfriend since--"

"Robin!" the raise of his voice gets her attention. She releases my hands and turns to look at him. He's got a guilty look on his face. "This is Y/N. Ben's little sister," he gestures to me awkwardly. He turns away, but I swear I catch a hint of red flushing his cheeks as he rubs the nape of his neck.

Robin's expression falters but she swiftly recovers. "Ben-Benji! Right! We love Benji, right Steve?"

"Yeah, yeah sure..." Steve's mortified. I can't even begin to react, cemented in place and dealing with my own sick form of embarrassment. I think I’m going to throw up.

"You’re scarin’ the poor girl, Love,” a petite girl in a baby blue dress with short red hair appears from behind a bookshelf, seemingly out of thin air. She swoops in as my glorious savior to diffuse the situation.

Wrapping a soft hand around my upper arm, she tugs me ever so slightly towards her, and I allow it. She could try to kill me in the back alley and I’d let her just to get out of here. Behind us, I hear Robin and Steve arguing in angry whispers.

“I’m Vickie. You must be Y/N. Ben’s told me so much about you,” she gleams.

Seems like I’m a hot topic of conversation to literally everybody.

“It’s just because he loves you,” Vickie says sweetly, pulling me to a reading nook by a big window.

“Shit, did I say that aloud?” I blurt, immediately cringing after the words leave my mouth.

All she does is laugh, gesturing for me to sit in a floral-patterned wingback chair. I gladly take it, sighing as I lean back.

“Sorry about Robin. She can be a bit…eccentric,”

I snort. “Please, that’s nothing. Have you met Eddie? He’s like, the King of Drama,”

Vickie giggles. “Don’t I know it.”

Comfortable silence falls over us as we watch people stroll past the window. As my embarrassment settles, I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous my life’s become. It’s strange, how this is the least uniform my world has ever been, yet I’m the happier than ever. I used to loathe change; I needed a routine and an answer to everything. No unknowns, zero variables—but now that my life is nothing but variables and questions, I actually don’t mind it. It’s exciting in a way.

“What’s funny?” Vickie asks, her voice smooth.

I shake my head. “How much can change in two weeks,” I respond, before adding, “How much I can change in two weeks,”

“Strange how it all works out, huh?”

I peel my eyes from the window to look at her. “So… what’s Hawkins?”

Her eyes thin. “Hm?”

“The name of the shop. Where’s it from?” I clarify, pointing at the ceiling and imagining the sign hanging above it.

“Ah, that’s right,” she recalls. “It’s, well… it’s home. Or it was, for all of us. Besides you and Ben of course. Where’d you guys grow up, anyways?”

“Houston,” I answer.

“You’re a long way from home,” she teases.

I nod, playing with my fingers in my lap. I could get further, I want to say. I want to get as far away from home as possible. Maybe someday I really will get far. I hear Canada’s nice. “Where’s Hawkins?” I deflect the topic away from myself.

“Indiana,” she swallows, lips forming a tight line. Her expression hollows for a moment, but she quickly brings herself back to earth and recovers with her signature smile. “Not so far from home.” She says it like it's a regret.

My lips form an ‘o’ as I nod, following her gaze out the window. Across the street, a little boy drops his ice cream, and he cries.

What a silly thing to cry about, I think to myself, but then I remember that crying about anything is silly when you really think about it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I sit cross-legged on my bed, the evening-setting sun peeking through the curtains and casting a golden glow on the walls. I go over my chemistry notes a million times, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. Every other class was a piece of cake, save for anatomy, which I have yet to tackle.

Daizy sits at the foot of my bed, feet propped up on the wall as she doom-scrolls on her phone. She’s been staying in my room with me for the past week as she delays going back home to Houston, her bank account no longer allowing hotel stays. I don’t ask her when she’s leaving because honestly, I don’t want her to. I will admit though, that the apartment is feeling a little crowded with the five of us.

The faint sounds of pans clanking and muffled voices echo down the hall and underneath my bedroom door. Steve and Ben discuss something I can’t make out, stopping suddenly when the front door opens and shuts. Eddie’s voice joins them in conversation.

Looking down at my studies, I groan. Fuck all of this.

“I’m gonna drop out,” I threaten.

Daizy eyes me from the side, setting her phone on her chest. “Give it a rest, would you?” She twists and sits on her feet, leaning forward to grab my hands. We sit there, faces inches apart, as she grins and evil grin. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room,”

“There is no elephant in this room,” I retort sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes. “The metaphorical elephant!”

“That’s a big word for you, Days," I pester with a nickname I know she hates.

“You live with three men. Three hot men, might I add,” she leaps off the bed.

“Ugh, gross. One of them’s my brother,” I remind her.

She nods, spinning in place like a ballerina. “You’re the luckiest girl in the world, y’know that?” She gushes. “I mean, I’d give anything to get to look at them all day like you—“

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with three men?” I deadpan. “It’s anything but a joy,”

I slide off my bed and go to my dresser, pulling out some pajamas to change into. Daizy rants about boys—my boys, specifically, the ones only a few feet away in the kitchen—while I peel my sweater off.

Just as I’ve found myself in only my bra and underwear, my bedroom door flies open. I scream and attempt to cover myself as Eddie stands in the doorway.

“You went on a date with Steve?!” he accuses, expression a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“Oh my God, Eddie! Have you ever heard of knocking?” Daizy screeches, shoving him out of the room. “She’s literally naked, you perv!”

Down the hallway, I hear my brother shout ‘WHAT?’ At an unreasonable volume.

Eddie’s face goes pale and he freezes like a deer in headlights.

“Get out!” I yell.

He shakes out of his trance. “Oh, shit. Sorry!” The door slams closed behind him. I get dressed at an inhuman speed, a flustered mess of limbs and hair in my eyes.

I turn to Daizy and she’s staring at me expectantly, eyebrows perched. “You went on a date with Steve?”

Anger boils in my stomach. “It wasn’t a date,” I grumble, storming out of the bedroom and down the hallway. I stop in the kitchen, brushing past Steve to grab the towel hanging from the oven door. “Munson!” I call.

Eddie and Ben are arguing in the living room. I rapidly approach, tunnel vision on Eddie and I smack him with the towel. He barely flinches as he laughs breathlessly.

“Calm down now, Sweetheart, I’ve seen you naked before,” he coos.

My blood runs cold and my jaw hangs slack. I hit him again.

“I’m sorry you what now?” Steve joins, rounding the kitchen counter.

“It was an accident!” Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. “I walked in on her showering, she tried to murder me with shampoo bottles—“

I roll my eyes to mask my embarrassment. “You didn’t even see anything, I was covered by shower curtain,”

“Hate to break it to you Sweetheart, but—that curtain’s see through,”

I press my hands to the side of my head and squeeze. If I’m lucky, I’ll pop my brain out and I’ll never have to think about this ever again. "Oh. My. God."

Ben’s face is red with fury. “Alright, that’s it! Everyone shut up! Emergency roommate meeting is happening. Right. Now. Sit down, all of you,” he demands with conviction, slamming his hand on the couch. I silently sit on the sofa and Eddie sits on the opposite side. Daizy meekly attempts to escape, slowly stepping backward towards my bedroom. “You too!" Ben adds, pointing to her.

Her shoulders fall and she groans, walking to me. She sits on the floor in front of me, leaning her back against my legs. Steve sits between Eddie and me, his body heat radiating off of him. Daizy glances at him, mischief glimmering in her peripherals. I poke her ribs to make her stop, and she relents, if just barely.

The atmosphere suddenly turns serious and heavy. Ben paces back and forth, hands clasped together in contemplation. He presses his fingertips to his lips, thinking. Just as I believe I’m getting close to reading his thoughts, he starts, “Do you remember when I very directly told you two that there was a line, and not to cross it?” He speaks quietly, staring at the boys.

The pair nod. Steve looks down at his feet, and Eddie looks anywhere but Ben's face.

“Not only have you crossed the line, but it’s so far behind you that you can’t even see it. Shit—you might as well have pissed on it!”

Eddie can’t hold it in any longer, and he laughs, just for a second. If looks could kill, he’d be dead where he sits. Ben glares daggers at him. “I know you’re not laughing, you sexual deviant. You can continue to flirt with everyone you see— but people in this house are off limits, especially her!”

I’ll admit to jumping a bit when my brother points a finger at me, like lightning will shoot out of it and electrocute me. Like Thor.

I laugh at my own thought and immediately I realize what I’ve done. Oh fuck.

“You’re not innocent, either,” he rambles. “Jesus, you live with three guys. Lock the goddamn door!”

My bedroom door doesn’t have a lock on it, I want to remind him, but I fear he’ll ring my neck if I do.

“The bathroom lock’s broken and her bedroom doesn’t even have one,” Steve defends me. I dare a peek at him and he’s looking at me. I smile and mouth thank you to him.

“And how would you know her bedroom doesn’t have a lock?” Ben accuses.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Because I’ve lived here for two years, Benjamin.”

“Fine,” Ben resolves, looking at me. “She’ll take my room. Private bathroom and a lock on the door,”

He says it like it’s some sort of punishment, so I have to pretend to be upset. The boys nod along, agreeing that this is the best middle ground.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Ben wiggles his finger between Steve and me. “But quit it. If I find out you went on a date again I’m gonna wring your tentacles out like a rag,” he tells Steve, who winces at the thought and runs his hand through his fluffy hair.

Daizy giggles quietly. I kick her to try to shut her up, but it’s too late as he sets his sights on her.

“And you,” Ben calls on her. “Quit encouraging bad behavior. Do you think I couldn’t hear your little conversation earlier? These walls are paper thin,”

I bury my face in my hands. Daizy is gobsmacked and—for the first time ever—stunned to silence.

“This house clearly needs a set of clearly outlined rules,” he announces, pacing into the kitchen and snatching a notebook and pen off the counter. He scribbles furiously for an extremely long minute while the rest of us hold our breaths. Steve leans into me, nudging me with his shoulder. A warm, fuzzy feeling surrounds me as I scan his pouting face. 'I’m sorry,' he whispers, barely audible.

I shake my head. He has nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t a date—Eddie’s a drama queen and my brother’s an over-reactor.

“I behold to you,” Ben breathes, ripping the page out of the notebook and displaying it like a child with an art project. “The Roommate Agreement.”

The hand writing is doctorate at best, kindergarten-esque at worst. “Please read this agreement and sign it. Failure to do so will result in banishment; sleeping on the fire escape.” Ben points out the sliding glass window above the communal desk in the far corner of the living room, the only entry point to the fire escape.

It starts with Eddie. He reads it quietly before handing it to Steve, who makes a face and then hands it to me. The chicken scratch handwriting reads as follows:

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

“Public humiliation or beating, really?” I snipe.

“Why are you so concerned? Plan on breaking the rules?” Ben teases.

I roll my eyes.

“Hey, can we add ‘pizza on Friday nights’ to the list of rules?” Eddie wonders aloud, ignorant to the tension in the room.

Ben sighs tiredly. “Yeah, sure, Ed. We can add pizza on Fridays,” he resolves.

“If we’re adding rules, we should add ‘knock before entering’ to the list. Since some people didn’t learn that in grade school,” I glare at Eddie.

He shrugs. “I’ve already seen you naked twice. Does it really matter anymore?”

I feel like I’m going to vomit from the thought of my naked body being burned into Eddie’s subconscious forever. Ben scowls and Steve elbows him.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” Daizy complains.

“Huh. Not really, no,” Eddie admits.

“I can tell.” she says.

“Alright, alright. Amendment to the Agreement: Pizza on Fridays, always knock before entering, and never speak about my sister naked ever again,” Ben says, looking pale.

Steve nods, suddenly feeling brave. “We should be allowed to make changes,”

“Once a year?” Daizy suggests, handing the paper back to Ben after she’s read it. "If you change it too often, it's not really an agreement, is it?"

“You don’t even live here,” Ben simmers, snatching the page.

“You’re the one who got me involved!” Daizy contests.

They lock eyes, an unhealthy mix of angst and electricity ricocheting off each other.

“Good fuck. Just make out already,” for once I'm thankful for Eddie's big mouth, as he says what we're all thinking. Daizy reaches for one of the throw pillows discarded on the floor and heaves it with all of her might. The plush hits his chest and he winces just to appease her, snickering.

Ben leans on the coffee table, stained with rings from beer cans and coffee mugs, furiously writing on the page. We pass it around the room again, reading the Amendment and signing our names at the bottom.

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

4. We will have pizza on Friday night, every week, until the end of time.

5. The Agreement may receive 1 (one) Amendment within a calendar year.

6. We are to never speak of The Incidents again. Signing this agreement is a promise to take The Incidents to the grave."

'The Incidents' is an odd way to word 'Eddie's the only one that's seen my naked', but I suppose it's easier to digest this way.

I titter at the way it’s written, all professional and lawyer-like. That’s my brother, for you—he’s always been so serious. Steve hands me the pen and I grab it. He purposely holds onto it tight so I struggle to take it from him. I shake my head at him and he chuckles, relenting his grip to release the pen with a pop.

In wiggly cursive, just under Steve Harrington’s name, I squiggle my name and draw a little heart next to it, cementing my place in Apartment 406D and my commitment to the Roommate Agreement.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**Holy crap, this took way too long to write, sorry! I gave up editing and half-assed it tbh so lmk if I missed something!**

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[little-annie]

It's in the kitchen of their shitty little 1.5 bedroom apartment that Eddie Munson continues to bemoan his roommates request for him to watch the 2024 Olympic Games with her this evening.

“Christine Henrietta Cunningham,” he starts with a sigh, wiping the reminentes of yet another YooHoo from his upper lip, leaning a narrow hip against the countertop's edge, “there is no way in hell you are getting me to watch the Olympics.”

Already wearing her team USA sweater, Chrissy tries to protest. Just as she did last night and the night before. For some reason thinking it's such a dire thing that Eddie watches the Olympics this year.

“First of all, not my middle name. Second-”

“You would literally have to glue my eyeballs open.”

“Second-” she tries again, voice stern, pointing a yellowed spoon in Eddie's direction as she dishes up a bowl of Kraft Dinner for them both.

“There is not now, nor will there ever be, any reason for me to watch juiced up jocks prance around and play any form of sportsball.”

There's so many reasons. Christ. Fuck. So many. But he's not telling Chrissy that. He'll watch the reruns when she's not home. He couldn't possibly be caught dead after last time.

“What about the swim-”

“Not even Gandalf himself,” Eddie interrupts, “-could convince me to waste my precious campaign planning time on such a thing.”

Following Chrissy to the living room, bowl of macaroni in hand, Eddie refuses to sit down next to her on the couch. He's not going to watch. Nope. Maybe sneak a peak in passing? Sure. But not watch. Are you kidding me?

“What a about To-”

The metal spoon that was once in Eddie's hand chatters to the floor as he mock gasps. Neon yellow noodles on the tile that the cat comes running over to clean up, Eddie stands in abject horror. She wouldn't dare.

“Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say, Christine. My 2020 not obsession with Tom Daley shan't be spoken of. It was merely a blip in the system. A glitch in the matrix.”

He still thinks Tom Daley can get it. But that's neither here nor there. And what is there, is simply between Eddie and the well used bottle of lotion next to his bed.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, now sitting with her legs crossed on their ugly ass thrifted couch, patting the cushion next to her as if Eddie's a dog. “Eddie you literally watched every one of his ra-”

Races?

“I did not.”

Okay maybe we wanted to. Who wouldn't? But it's not like he obsessively watched every one of the man's races.

“... I missed two.” He admits Inna whisper.

And what a sheer travesty that'd had been

“Oh yeah. You missed two. Oh Edward, how could I forget?” After patting the cushion mindlessly next to her again and eating a spoonful of macaroni she faux whines, “‘Oh Chrissy, would you record the race for me? I don't want to miss it.’”

He doesn't sound like that.

“I do not sound lik-”

All pathetic and whiney? Eddie Munson doesn't sound like that.

“As if I would believe you actually gave two shits about the races you giant homo.” Chrissy rolls her eyes so hard Eddie's surprised she doesn't hurt her neck, “You just liked seeing those boys in spandex.”

Well…. She's not wrong. Sports are dumb. People playing sports for money is dumb. What the Olympics does to those cities in the aftermath of the event is dumb.

But she's not wrong.

Spandex

“…. I hate you”

“No you don't.” She smiles, blowing Eddie a kiss.

“Um. Yes I do.”

As if he could ever hate Chrissy.

Avoiding making eye contact with her as she continues to pat the cushion next to her and turning heel towards the hall, Eddie decides maybe it's just best to eat his supper in his room. Away from jockey spandex and its temptations, “Anyways. As I was saying. Fuck you and your jocky hobbies Chrissy.” Eddie yells from the hall, “My time is far too valuable to be wasted mindlessly drooling over arrogant jocks and their-”

In a sing-songy voice Eddie hears Chrissy call from behind him, “You're gonna want to watch this!”

He groans, turning back around from the journey he'd just started in the direction of his room, “I would rather di-” only to be caught short when a familiar mole dotted, spandex covered ass makes its way across his TV screen.

He'd recognize that ass anywhere.

Went to every goddamn swim meet at the stupid community pool to see that beautiful ass in motion for years.

He fawned over it in the halls of Hawkins High.

Drooled over it on the odd days he actually attended gym class. Tried to solely avoid eye contact with it when he found it bare and within reach in the change rooms only an hour later.

Fuck.

Eddie's knees feel weak and before he knows it he's climbing over the back of the couch, bowl of macaroni in his lap and mirroring Chrissy's position. Legs crossed. Eyes glued to the TV. Mindlessly eating chemicals that some big corporation somehow manages to pass off as macaroni and cheese.

“Is that Steve Harrington?”

Oh look at those moles.

Beautiful.

Those pecs?

Fucking hell.

“Christine!?” Eddie screeches from his position on the couch when Chrissy doesn't answer, just simply shrugs and smirks at him. The little devil. “Did I just see Harrington?”

“Told you, you'd want to see this.”

[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates! - Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

Eddie had called out of work the next day. Steve could hear him making his apologies to Mrs. Henderson who'd taken over the running of the shop when her husband passed.

Steve knew she'd probably tell him to stay home for the rest of the week, probably longer if she could get away with it, but Eddie loved every second he spent working there. Adored Dustin. Adored the other kids, Steve's kids, who used the back room for their dice game after closing on Thursday evenings.

Eddie would have to be beaten away from the premises with a bat. A bat with nails.

Steve might just have to give it a try if the idiot refused to rest properly.

He wasn't mothering him.

He was like… distant cousining him.

When he heard Eddie retreat back to his room after the call and when a light rumbling of snores came through the wall maybe a half an hour later, Steve finally made his exit from his room.

He hadn’t wanted Eddie to think he needed to put on a brave face or act like he was okay if Steve was out in the public spaces while he made the call. 

Not because he cared.

Just so Eddie wouldn’t have to pretend.

And so he himself didn’t have to deal with the tension.

Yeah, right.

Also, it was the least he could do to complete Eddie's designated chores off the whiteboard that there had been war over. 

Robin and Eddie’s friend Chrissy had been forced to come in and mediate the whiteboard before one of them set the other's hair on fire. Though by the end of the day the two best friends had been too busy making eyes at each other to be of any help.

Steve was taking a risk; messing with the delicate whiteboard balance that stayed the same, week in, week out, lest another war start. But if Eddie wasn’t up for going to work, he certainly wouldn’t be up for sweeping, mopping, countertops and garbage.

And like, Steve could hardly blame him, he’d been through a lot yesterday, he’d been betrayed by the guy he’d cared most about. He was attacked and had his heart broken all in one night.

So it was whatever.

Just a few chores. 

Whatever.

At least he didn’t have to worry about keeping the noise down. Eddie could sleep through the apartment being ripped up by a cyclone then dropped into Oz.

He’d probably sleep through any and all musical numbers to follow, too.

Though he’d be bummed about missing them.

A few hours had passed by that point and Steve was just about to sit his lovely bottom on the couch to enjoy some good old fashioned thoughtless tv when there was a knock at the door.

He half expected Mrs. Henderson to be on the other side with half a hospital in tow behind her as well as, like, fifteen gallons of her famous chicken noodle soup. Which Steve would not turn down for love nor money and would steal a minimum 50% share.

As was his right.

But it wasn’t Claudia.

It was some guy. 

Some guy who had a bandage over his nose, a harsh purple colour blooming underneath, sitting a little off as though broken. Some guy who had cuts and scratch marks all over his face and neck.

Some guy who seemed to be affronted at the very sight of him.

But as he stood there Steve could see the clogged up gears working in his brain before the guy opened his mouth and said "You're Steve, the roommate."

Steve pursed his lips. 

Well, this interaction was off to a great start. 

Though if this was who Steve thought he was, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

"I'm Steve. Eddie's the roommate.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “What was with the look?"

The guy blinked at him. "What look?"

"The look you gave me, when I opened the door. Like I'd shit on your shoe." He answered with a cocked eyebrow and a cocked hip.

"Oh, uh… I just thought Eddie had shacked up with someone already.” The guy laughed. “Bit soon.” He shrugged and smiled at Steve as though looking for some kind of commiseration for a good joke, two men giving each other nudges about how silly their wives were or whatever other shit straight people did.

But Steve had no commiseration to give.

So this was definitely the shithead, then. Rick.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, practically acting like a barricade, blocking off access to the apartment with his arms crossed. "Don’t like the idea of him having someone at home?” He asked in a light tone. “Bit hypocritical if you ask me.”

Rick’s face immediately soured. "That wasn't his business to tell."

“I think you lose the privilege to that kind of privacy when you fuck around on people you’re supposed to love.” Steve shrugged. “Or just people in general.”

“Who the hell are you to judge me?” Rick puffed his chest out. “You don’t know me.”

“And thank god for that. I don’t need to know you. I know you’re a cheater, that’s enough.”

Rick scoffed. “Whatever, man. I’m not here to debate morality or some shit with you. I’m here to see Eddie.”

“No.” Steve answered as simply as he could. 

The guy seemed to need things to be concise.

Rick looked bewildered. “Ex- excuse me?”

“You got cotton in your ears or something? I said no.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? His keeper? You know he hates you right?”

Steve pulled his mouth down into a mocking pout. “Oh no.” He sighed, deadpan. “I’m so heartbroken.”

“Listen, I’m not getting into it with you right now, man. So call Eddie out or move.”

“Or what?” Steve leaned forward a little, feeling his blood light on fire. 

There would be nothing more he’d love at this moment than Rick trying to square up to fight. 

The guy was a little taller than him, but Steve was much broader, much stronger and though it wasn’t something he liked to do, he knew he could throw a decent punch if it was for someone else.

That much was obvious. 

Thinking back on the things Eddie had said last night, the things Rick had tried, the way he’d cried into Steve’s shoulder, Steve would break Rick’s nose all over again if given half a chance.

“Steve.”

Eddie appeared next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him away from the door.

Rick looked between the two of them before his eyes landed back on Steve, snapping at him “You can fuck off now.”

Steve raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘oh, can I?’, but even so, he looked at Eddie, waiting for some sign of what he wanted, whether he wanted him to stay or go.

But Eddie gave no indication of what he wanted, wedging himself in between the two and pulling the door tighter to himself, his expression thunderous through the blooming bruises and angry cuts.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Steve took that as his cue to go. Even through all the bluster and posturing and how much the two of them still didn’t like each other-

We barely tolerate each other, Steve insisted to himself, we don’t like each other. I don’t like him.

-he wasn’t going to force himself into this drama and if Eddie needed to tear this guy to shreds on his own, Steve would let him.

But he had barely taken a step back before Eddie’s hand shot out, grasping at what he could until he had a fistful of Steve’s shirt, white knuckling it and stopping him in his tracks.

The movement was hidden by the door, Rick wouldn’t have been able to see it and Eddie didn’t acknowledge that he’d done anything, still staring his ex down.

Steve stopped dead where he was and when Eddie seemed to realise that he wouldn’t be moving, his hand loosened, coming back up to rest against the door.

“I’m here to sort things out between us. Try to fix it.” Rick said, his voice going soft.

Eddie exhaled a derisive laugh through his nose. “Why don’t you go and ‘fix’ your wife?”

Steve crossed his arms, standing guard in the back but still mostly out of sight.

“C’mon babe…” Rick reached out, attempting to grasp at Eddie’s fingers but Eddie snatched his hand back. “I think you’re just… making a big deal out of this when you don’t need to.”

“A big deal?” Eddie snapped, leaning forward. “Not only have you been cheating on your wife but you’ve been cheating on me too.”

“You?” Rick sputtered, incredulous.

He exhaled with an eye roll and only then noticed that Steve was still standing there.

“Are you serious?” Rick almost shrieked. “What the hell are you still here for? Show’s over, normie!” He waved his hand in Steve’s direction as though dismissing him.

Steve raised his eyebrows and smiled back, not moving an inch.

Rick looked back to Eddie. “Are you not going to do anything about him? We’re in the middle-”

“Oh my god.” Steve injected as much sarcasm as he could. “Is this a private conversation? I had no idea.”

Rick’s face was turning red with frustration. “You got a real attitude problem, man.”

Steve turned his mouth down in a pout. “Oh no.”

“That’s it.” Rick slammed against the door all of a sudden, wrenching it from Eddie’s grip and almost blowing it open if it wasn’t for Steve’s hands stopping it in its tracks.

The sudden stop jostled Rick, sending him slightly off balance and Eddie took the opportunity to kick out hard, swinging his leg up until it landed in between Rick’s legs. 

Eddie retracted his foot for just a second as Rick crumpled with a scream of pain before kicking out again, catching him in the hip and shoving him back into the hallway, sending him sprawling.

“Lose my fucking number, asshole.” 

Eddie spat down at Rick before turning back inside and slamming the door behind him.

His eyes were still narrowed and furious as he glared at Steve who could do nothing but stand there.

The sound of Rick’s groans were still echoing beyond the door as the two of them looked at each other.

The silence stretched on as Eddie heaved heavy breaths in and out and Steve stared dumbfounded.

There was a glossy sheen to Eddie’s eyes by the time Steve opened his mouth, not sure of what he was going to say.

But it didn’t matter.

Eddie stormed past him without a backwards glance, his hair just disappearing behind the door before he slammed it closed and the wailing of a guitar and the crashing of drums started to scream out of the speakers in his room.

He didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day. Didn’t knock on his door to try to pull him out and didn’t try to get him to talk.

Steve was only just waking up the day after when he heard Eddie’s bedroom door open and shuffling coming down the hall towards the phone.

He twiddled his thumbs, waiting in his room while he heard Eddie’s muttered conversation. 

He didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want to have to force his presence on Eddie before it was necessary but he really had to pee and he’d have to walk past the phone to get to the bathroom.

Thankfully the conversation didn’t last long but then Eddie shuffled away from his own room towards the bathroom and Steve had to take some very deep breaths.

He couldn’t really be mad at him for it, the guy hadn’t come out of his room at all yesterday after the confrontation, he deserved to pee but Steve felt like his kidneys were gonna start failing at any second.

When he heard Eddie shuffle back into his room Steve nearly cracked the wall with how hard he threw the door open, rushing down the hallway and into the bathroom before he exploded.

Eddie hadn’t made another appearance by the time Steve was grabbing his keys for work and as much as it irritated him, he was feeling a little wary about leaving him all alone for most of the day.

Turned out he didn’t really need to worry about it.

Just as he had turned back towards Eddie’s room, there was a knock on the front door.

He swung it open to find bouncing blonde curls and a bright perky smile.

“Hi Steve.”

“Oh, hey Chrissy.” He stepped aside, allowing her to sweep inside. Her sweater was very unusual. Dark blue and baggy and tucked into her light wash jeans. Steve could have sworn he’d seen it before. There was a large plastic bag in her hand that a glance inside told him was filled with every tooth rottingly sweet thing she could have scooped off the shelves at their local store.

She placed the bag on the kitchen counter with a light clink of glass against glass coming from inside.

Maybe it was also a day-drunk type of visit.

“How is he?” Chrissy asked, blinking up at him with her big earnest eyes.

“I’m… not sure?” Steve shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

She nodded. “Okay. That’s okay.”

“I think I’m probably going to call over to Robin’s after work.” He muttered, trying to keep his burning blush down. “Hang out for a little bit.”

He didn’t think he needed to say he was doing it to give Chrissy and Eddie their space, to do their ice-cream and chocolate and alcohol and talk about how terrible men were without him hovering. But thankfully she got it, smiling at him so bright it almost hurt to look at.

“Could you…?” She hesitated, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers. “Could you ask Robin- never mind.”

Steve opened his mouth to assure her it was okay to continue but she barrelled on.

“The boys are coming over later too. Is that okay?”

“The boys?” Did she mean the kids?

“From the band.”

“Oh! Yeah I mean why wouldn’t that be okay? Eddie lives here too.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to check in case-”

“In case I complained about it later?” He tried to ask in his kindest tone. Maybe he’d been guilty of bitching about them in the past but he would never deny Eddie his support system, not at s time like this.

Even if he did… dislike him?

Did he still dislike him?

What was he talking about, of course he did.

“I’m sorry.” Chrissy looked incredibly guilty and Steve couldn’t stand it.

“No, you were right to ask. I haven’t- I’ve been a bit rude in the past.”

She looked like she wanted to apologise again so he shot her a warm smile and patted her on the shoulder. “I have to get to work, but take care of him, yeah?”

She gave him a curious look but nodded, sending him out the door with a wave of her hand, her sleeve following loosely where it was still pulled over her fingers.

Steve was halfway through his shift by the time Robin came in. She worked shorter hours ever since she’d taken that part time internship as a translator.

They’d just gotten past their mid-day coffee rush by the time they had a chance to talk.

“Are you doing anything after this?” He asked her, leaning back against the counter.

“Is this your way of asking me out?” Robin was rifling through the under counter refrigerator next to him, throwing out any old stock that had gone out of date.

“Yes.” Steve nodded. “I’ve been hopelessly in love with you for years and I thought now was the best time to confess.”

“You could have picked a more romantic location.” She sniffed at a container of strawberries, considering before shaking her head and dumping them.

“But my heart told me it had to be now, Birdie.”

Robin just rolled her eyes at him.

“So?” He nudged her with his foot, very nearly sending her off balance. “You, me, two of the best subs this city has and your couch. It’s my best offer.”

She shut the refrigerator door, pushing herself to stand, using the counter for balance. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Steve absentmindedly snapped his fingers at her, remembering.

“Oh! You have a date tonight, right?” 

“I did have a date tonight but sh- he cancelled.”

“He cancelled, did he?” Steve smirked, trying not to enjoy the poorly masked revulsion on Robin’s face at having to pretend to be dating a man.

“Yes. He did. Rain check for another time.”

“Bummer.” 

Robin hadn’t told him much about the girl she was seeing and Steve hadn’t pushed for any more information than she was willing to give. When she wanted him to know, he’d know.

“But-” he continued “-that leaves your schedule wide open for a date with me.” He spread his arms wide open and smiled at her.

“Well, aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“The luckiest. Any reason for the rain check?”

Robin nodded. “Friend emergency.”

“Oh. That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “He’s a very sweet…” her nose scrunched up, “boy.”

“Very sweet boy.” He repeated with a smile. “So can I steal your keys? Have everything all spread out for you when you get home?” He dragged his hand down his chest, wiggling his hips.

“God, Steven.” Robin shuddered. “You’re repulsive.”

“Wrong. I am a dish.”

“Ugh. Gag.”

Steve pouted at her. “I’ll get you a milkshake too, how about that?”

She crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. “Fine.”

She could only hold for so long before she started to break, cracking a smile.

“If you two don’t mind,” a voice next to them said and they both jumped, seeing Mark their manager standing there, “could you stop flirting and get back to work?”

Neither of them even bothered arguing that they were not flirting anymore. They both knew the rest of the staff had a betting pool going on when they would get together.

They would be waiting a very long time.

By the time Robin got home, Steve had himself swaddled in her blankets and had stolen her best hot water bottle.

Why did she live somewhere so cold?

His toasty warmth didn’t last very long, however. 

She wrestled the hot water bottle from his grip by resorting to dirty tactics, pulling at his hair until he let it go. 

“How many times have I told you the hair is off limits?” He hissed at her, trying to fix it. His hair was his fucking signature, how could she be so rude?

“That is exactly why I go for it every time. It’s your weak spot.” She grinned, smug in her win and attempting to pull the throw off of him as well.

“Go get one of my sweaters if you’re gonna be such a big bitch baby about it. I just got off work.” She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. “I’m tired.”

“I brought you subs and milkshakes!”

Robin heaved out a heavy, put upon sigh. “Fine.” She heaved herself up from the couch, still clutching at the hot water bottle and disappeared inside her room.

Steve took the opportunity to swaddle himself again, just getting cosy when he heard Robin call out, “Evie, did you steal my sweater?”

“Which one?” He shouted back. He probably had five or more of hers at home and he wasn’t even sure if all of those had started out as hers or his.

“The blue one!”

“Which blue one?”

“The new blue one!”

“What does it look like?”

“What do you think it looks like, it’s fucking blue!”

Steve rolled his eyes and tried to remember any blue sweaters that existed within his own apartment. 

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have it. I don’t even remember you getting a new blue sweater.”

“Well where the hell is it then?”

“How am I supposed to know? I didn’t even know it existed!”

“You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Maybe the sweater fairy stole it.” He snickered to himself until a dark red sweater that had definitely belonged to him first hit him in the face.

“You are the sweater fairy.” She pouted, sitting back down and stealing the throw from his lap.

“Don’t hate crime me. It’s rude.” He tugged the throw back over his legs, leaving her enough slack to cover herself as well.

Robin reached over to snatch her sub from the coffee table. “So.”

“So.”

“Something’s going on with Eddie.”

“What?” Steve ran through the entire day in his head. He didn’t think he’d mentioned Eddie once. “When did I say there was something going on with Eddie?”

“You didn’t.” Robin’s mouth went slack in the way it usually did whenever she was hiding something but she covered it up with a large bite, speaking through a full mouth. “But you’re here and not at home so…”

“That’s not that unusual.”

“No, but what is unusual is that you asked if you could steal my keys instead of just taking them.”

“Oh.” Yeah. That was not the norm. “Um, well it’s not really my place to say-”

“Who am I going to tell?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Tell me.” She jabbed him with a sharp elbow.

“I don’t know if I can.” He said, running his hand through his hair.

“I mean, nothing too personal, if you don’t wanna.” She backtracked with a shrug.

“Doesn’t matter what I want. The thing is it’s not my business, it’s Eddie’s.” He shrugged. “But there was some… relationship drama the other night.”

“Ooh. Juicy drama?”

Steve winced. “Not exactly. More like… red flag drama.”

“Oh shit. Chr- I didn’t know that.”

Steve looked at her, bewildered. “I wouldn’t expect you to, how would you know?”

Robin just shrugged, shoving another large bite into her mouth. 

“I don’t really… I’m not comfortable talking about the things Eddie and I talked about but I do need you to help me… figure myself out.”

“Okay, that I can do. I’m an expert at it. I helped you find your sexuality.”

“Find it? It wasn’t fucking lost Birdie.”

“Yeah, but I brought it out into the sunlight.”

“Jesus, you’re acting like you released it from captivity. I knew. I’ve always known. Just because you didn’t know that I know, doesn’t mean I didn’t know.”

She shoved his arm. “I unlocked it.”

He shoved her back. “You didn’t unlock shit.”

She shoved him again. “I unlocked it. You’re welcome.” 

He gave her a final shove with a huff to go right along with it. “Whatever.”

“Okay, no more side tracking. Tell me your scrambly brain thoughts.”

“Alright. Um. Okay. So.” Shit. How much could he tell her without either breaking Eddie’s trust or revealing too much. “So there was drama the other night, between Eddie and the boyfriend, you know that much. I won’t say what happened but he didn’t get home until like four in the morning and he called out of work yesterday and today-”

“He called out?!” Robin shrieked, open mouthed. She’d lived with Eddie long enough and been through enough of Steve’s bitching to know just how much Eddie loved that job.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It was… it wasn’t good, Birdie, what happened. It was actually really fucking fucked up.”

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“So then yesterday he’s trying to sleep it off pretty much and there’s a knock at the door.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah and I go get it because I had assumed it would be Mrs. Henderson with some chicken noodle soup and you know I’d kill my own mother for some of that soup-”

“-I’d kill your mother for some too, yes.”

“-yeah. But it wasn’t Mrs. Henderson, it was Rick, the boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, I don’t know and he was trying to like, bully his way into the apartment to see Eddie and I don’t know what happened with me but-”

“-you went full guard dog protector mode didn’t you?”

“I…” Steve sighed, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I did. Why did I do that? It’s none of my business. I don’t even like the guy. Why would I care?”

“Because you always care, Evie. You saw someone who needed help and you helped, it’s what you do.”

Steve scoffed. “Hardly. It’s not like I’m some fucking selfless hero for doing it.”

“Nah, you kinda are.”

“It was just some guy!”

“And you’re just some guy too!”

Steve glared at her, offended. “You take that back.”

Robin looked at him for a moment. “Okay, fair, retracted.”

He gave her a small grin and dragged the sleeves of the sweater over his fingers.

“Hey! Stop, you’ll stretch it!”

“What does it matter if I stretch it, it’s mine.”

“It is not.”

“It is too!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!” He jabbed her in the side, knowing full well that if they continued the way they were this could go on all night. It had gone on all night more than once.

Robin squawked and immediately lunged, her hands grabbing at the top of his head. 

“No, no! I told you not the hair!”

“And I told you it’s your weakness.” She hissed, her eyes flashing as he scrambled at her wrists before she could get her fingers buried deep enough.

“Boobies!” He shouted, as loud as possible. The effect was immediate, Robin tried to cringe away from him with a look of disgust. “Boobies, boobies, boobies!”

“Oh my god are you five fucking years old? Can you not say tits or breasts or fucking mammary glands or something like a damn adult?” She wrenched her wrists away from him. “I’m so embarrassed for you.”

“I’m embarrassed of your face.”

“I’m embarrassed of your weird man hair.” She scowled, patting at his chest. 

“You shouldn’t be. Everyone loves the chest hair. Even the lesbians. It’s like a respect thing.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Steve pouted to himself.

He just wanted to help. He wanted to make sure Eddie was okay, that he would continue to be okay and there was this horrible little part in the back of his head that also wanted to make sure that no one would put their hands on Eddie ever like that again.

It was weird and possessive in a way he really shouldn’t have been feeling about his irritating as shit roommate who didn’t even have the courtesy to play guitar with headphones on half the time.

No matter how good his playing was.

“I can smell your hair burning.”

“What do I do now, Birdie?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I want to help, I guess. But I don’t know how. We don’t even like each other, why would he accept my help?”

“Well… how did he react when you did what you did?”

“He… I guess he… I was going to leave when Rick came to the door and he stopped me. He didn’t say anything to me, he didn’t even look at me but he grabbed onto me and… I think he was scared, Rob. I’ve never seen him scared.”

“Well Steve, I think you’re gonna do what you always do. Help. Whether you know you’re doing it or not, whether you even really mean to, you always help.”

"You're making me out to be some sort of saint."

“I’m really not.” She shook her head. “You’re just… you.”

“Wow, incredible observation there, Birdie.”

“Oh, fuck off and finish this for me.” She shoved the rest of her sub into his hands.

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut @eddielives1986 @releasethexbarakat @a-little-unsteddie @steddietogo @steddiehyperfixation

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

[buttered-toasty]

Might as well write this post while I wait on the bus

“What the hell do you need photos of the inside of a van for” -my roommate, one month ago

Also colors for this one were picked from the palette of this song’s album cover