#falling in love with THAT eddie

[trashpocket]

sketch spread of steve and eddie (ft robin, lucas, max, and one rockstar!eddie) // and the older steve and eddie were based on My Grave is Mine to Dig  steddie <3

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[shushmal]

Let it be known that Steve has zero problem with Eddie. Like, negative problems. So little problem that it kinda turns itself inside out and becomes a DIFFERENT problem. But, not like, a problem problem. Just a teeny tiny little maybe issue. Maybe. Whatever.

Anyways, Eddie's a hugger.

And, like Steve said, it's not a problem. Except that it kind of is.

"Oh, dude," Robin had said when he'd told her as much, and stared at him with this incredibly pained look in her eyes. "You have so many issues." And after that, he gets daily a Robin hug.

Which is great. But doesn't solve his not-problem with Eddie hugs.

Well, in a way, it does. Regular Robin hugs means that Steve isn't freezing up and freaking out when he gets an Eddie hug. Steve's really glad for that, because he'd been terrified that he was going to make Eddie think that Steve hated the Eddie hugs.

Which would be awful, because Steve kinda sorta maybe absolutely would-die-for the Eddie hugs. Steve loves the Eddie hugs, okay? Eddie should be hugging Steve all the time, actually.

He does, too. It's kind of awesome. Steve waives a late fee? Eddie's clamoring over the counter to hug him. Steve picks up the nerds from their nerd jail game? Eddie's half way through his window, hugging Steve's head. Steve brought pizza to movie night? Eddie gets his arms around Steve's waist and sighs happily into Steve's neck. It's pretty great.

It's the best thing ever.

And Steve knows logically that he's not special. Eddie's usually draped over someone for extended periods of time until he get's swatted off. He hugs everyone. Steve's not special. He does have to tell himself that a lot.

"Oh, dingus," Robin had sighed when he'd told her as much. Her look this time was a lot less pained and more exasperated. "So many issues." And he was rewarded with two Robin hugs that day.

Anyways, Steve has to remind himself all the time that he's not special. So it comes as a little tiny sorta maybe surprise when Eddie one night wraps Steve in his arms, sighing all happy and contented like he usually does, and says, "You're my favorite, Harrington. You give the best hugs."

And then he presses a kiss to Steve's cheek.

And a lot of things go through Steve's head in that moment. He doesn't have a clue what any of it is, but it all scrolls by like the Star Wars intro on too much sugar and too hard to read. Still, he arrives at the correct conclusion anyways.

"Oh," Steve says, before Eddie's lips have really left his cheek. "I'm in love with you."

Eddie reels back, his hands still on Steve's shoulders, big brown eyes now bigger than ever. Steve watches as his face goes pink, and pinker, and then bright red.

"Huh?!" It's a really ugly sound that Eddie makes, and Steve bites his lip to keep from laughing. It's cute.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I'm in love with you."

"... What?!"

[loveinhawkins]

When Steve picks up the phone, he can hear Eddie laughing before he’s even said a word.

“What?” Steve says through a smile; he’s used to this now, phone calls that happen for no real reason. Robin had gotten him well and truly accustomed to it: months of rambling conversations—with occasional interjections from Mr Buckley, chuckling as he warned Robin that she was gonna trip over the cord.

“I need your help,” Eddie says, amusement still evident in his voice, “it’s to win an argument.”

“Oh, is that all I am to you?” Steve acts like he’s going to hang up, covering the receiver with his hand so it sounds muffled.

“No, no!” Eddie’s laughing again. “Don’t go.”

Steve removes his hand, his smile growing. “All right, jeez. What’s up?”

“Okay, back me up here ‘cause Dustin and Lucas did not believe me. There was—we had an old gym teacher, right? He, like, towered above us, man, had a moustache, like what do you call it when it’s all—”

Steve feels another wave of affection; he knows that Eddie will be unconsciously demonstrating what the moustache looks like, despite the fact that they can’t see each other.

“—uh, bristly, you know what I—?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Mr Wilson. Didn’t he leave a couple years ago? Super mean for no reason, dude had a stick up his—”

“Yes!” Eddie crows in triumph. “I knew you’d remember, I knew it.”

Steve shakes his head fondly—Eddie’s making it sound far more impressive than it actually is, like he’s just sunk the winning shot or something. Like Eddie has an unshakeable belief in him.

“God, he was the worst. He was the one that was obsessed with cross-country, right—”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, yeah,” Eddie says. “It was actually scary. I swear he got some kinda evil kick out of it whenever it rained, like he’d hope we drowned out there or—”

Steve makes a vague hum of agreement; there’s a flash of the familiar in Eddie’s words, the memory of mud and rain against his skin. And…

“Shit, didn’t you…? Did you fall one time, I remember you limping?”

Steve’s recollection of it is fuzzy—like a lot of things were in the winter of ‘84—but as he talks, the more he grows certain; it makes sense of a momentary instinct he’d had in The Upside Down, as the earth shook: seeing Eddie fall out the corner of his eye, and suddenly wanting to check whether he rolled his ankle.

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie chuckles slightly—there’s a thread of embarrassment in the sound. Didn’t think—um, sorta hoped you wouldn’t remember that, honestly.”

“I don’t really,” Steve says, then winces. “That sounds bad. I just meant—”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie says. Steve can hear how he’s smiling. “Better for my ego this way.” He pauses. “You were really sweet about it at the time.”

He moves on quickly—Steve knows that’s partly just Eddie being himself, how he joyfully leaps from one topic to the next. But he doesn’t think he’s imagining the flicker of something shy, the softness in Eddie’s voice, you were really sweet about it.

Steve makes sure to commit it to memory.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve arriving at a hotel for a work conference for his dad’s company. He hates it there, he’s miserable, he’s constantly trying to figure out what he actually wants to do with his life.

It’s late when he gets there and the hotel is fully booked because of a concert happening.

He gets his key card after waiting for 30 minutes to check in.

He opens the hotel room door to find it is already occupied by a guy with a whole lot of tattoos all over his very naked and still dripping from a shower body.

Obviously he panics a bit and wonders how the hell this could’ve happened and Eddie panics a little because of safety (turns out he’s the singer of the band performing the following night!)

They try to call the front desk but the line is busy and Steve already dreads having to go back and wait in the line downstairs.

Eddie offers to let him just stay and they’ll fix it in the morning.

“Plenty of room in a king for both of us.”

Which may be true, but Steve is an octopus when he shares a bed and he knows he will end up in Eddie’s space. Should he warn him? Probably. Does he? Absolutely not.

Steve rushes through a shower and hops into bed, making small talk with Eddie about his life in a band, ignores questions about what he does as much as he can because he doesn’t feel like explaining he’s just a puppet for his dad’s never ending business career.

He falls asleep listening to Eddie’s soft, deep tone.

And of course when he wakes up, he’s got his legs and arms wrapped around Eddie anywhere he can reach. His drool is drying on Eddie’s chest and he’s coming to terms with the fact that his dick was definitely pressed against Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie’s kind enough not to say anything about it, just squeezes Steve’s arm and continues petting his hair.

It’s nice, too nice.

Steve has to get up. He’s got things to do today and if he’s late, his dad will hear about it and berate him for hours.

Shit, even if he’s on time he’ll probably find some other reason to berate him for hours.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.

“Hm? Oh. Just don’t really wanna get up.”

“Then don’t. I don’t have anywhere to be until soundcheck after lunch.”

And now Steve has no choice but to explain his job and why he’s here, how his dad is relying on him to network and find potential mergers. How he hates putting on the Harrington face to please everyone.

It’s easy to admit it to Eddie, especially with Eddie’s arms wrapped around him, holding him like he could actually protect him from anything his father tries to say to hurt him.

“You don’t like your job.”

It’s not a question.

“Does anyone really like their job?”

“I do.”

“Well, you’re a rockstar. Of course you do. But I can’t be a rockstar.”

“Maybe not. But what is your rockstar?”

Steve had never been asked that, not even by guidance counselors in high school. They all knew he’d work for his father. He got a business degree for his father. He owned more suits than sweatpants for his father.

“I…don’t know.”

“Maybe you could try figuring it out.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“No, it’s not. But you could still try.”

So Steve sent a message to his dad’s partner, let him know he was fighting food poisoning from the in-flight meal and couldn’t make it to the conference today. He watched as Eddie threw on some clothes, mussed up his hair instead of brushed it, and quickly shoved his things into his bag.

“I should get out of your hair, try to get the room thing fixed.”

Eddie looked at him, looked at the alarm clock by the bed, down at Steve’s bag.

“How many days are you packed for?”

“Uh, four, technically. Trip was supposed to be three, but I always have an extra in case there’s flight delays or-“

“Come with me.”

“To…soundcheck?”

“On tour.”

Steve was an idiot, his father made sure he knew it as often as possible. But he couldn’t just go on tour with a stranger.

Could he?

What was he really doing here?

He hated his job, hated his dad, hated not having a clear path in front of him.

And this certainly wasn’t a clear path; He barely knew this guy, and hadn’t even heard his band. But it was a trail, the start of a path that could lead him somewhere he’d actually like to be.

Maybe he could take this chance.

Robin would tell him to do it, if she weren’t in Antarctica studying penguins for three months, only able to call once a week to check in.

What would she say if she called him and he was backstage at a heavy metal concert?

She’d probably say he’s lost his damn mind, but she’d be glad he did.

“Well, I am a rockstar. I could afford to have you around.”

“I’m not sure I could really afford to when my dad fires me,” Steve sighed, reality hitting him a little too quickly.

“I’m not really willing to be, like, your kept boy or anything,” Steve felt himself flush.

“I’m not really willing to have a kept boy,” Eddie smirked, joining him on the bed again, legs crossed in front of him. “But I’d definitely be happy to have someone who can help our tour manager out. You’d be working, though the jobs kind of boring.”

“More boring than sitting in an office five days a week and meeting with old white dudes who haven’t done anything but work their lives away for 40+ years?”

“Nah, way better than that. Sometimes you’ll have to deal with Gareth’s moods, but I promise to make it worth your while.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Eddie very obviously checked him, eyes trailing over Steve’s bare chest. “I’m open to negotiating.”

“And if I want a kiss?”

“Then a kiss you’ll have.”

“And if I want you to fuck me?”

“Then you’ll have to sign some paperwork,” Eddie laughed. “But that can be arranged too.”

So Steve left with Eddie, four days of clothes in his bag, no idea what he’d even tell his dad or anyone else, and no clue exactly what his new job would entail.

All he knew was Eddie seemed to be made just for him, chaos and hyperactivity included, and Steve wasn’t gonna give that up now. Even if it made no sense, even if it was ridiculous to gain a new job and new rockstar boyfriend in less than 24 hours, even if his next call with Robin was a combination of her yelling about his impulsive behaviors and congratulations for finally doing something for him.

Even if he was more of a VIP groupie for the band than an employee of the tour manager.

Steve finally found something he wanted.

If he sent his dad’s calls to voicemail, that was because he was too busy walking his new path.

[btbonescanon]

evan buckley is such a funny person, i swear to god. he’s jealous of his best friend making another friend?his best friend eddie diaz? who made buck his son’s legal fucking guardian? who let buck see him at his most vulnerable and raw with tears streaming down his face and blood on his knuckles? eddie diaz who looks at him like buck is the beginning and end of his universe? eddie diaz who said his first name as if it was a prayer he practiced and practiced and practiced until it became his only creed?

oh evan buckley, you are a special one.

[florallylly]

eddie munson stumbling over his words, speaking absolute gibberish to steve and steve's eyes have just glazed over bc he's already named their children in his head

[morganbritton132]

Eddie post a Tiktok of himself sitting in his car. He’s not looking at the camera, but passed it. For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, and he watches, and he nods to himself like, Okay. When he addresses the camera, he says, “You know, back in ‘86, after a series of events and an accumulation of concussions, my boyfriend- now husband - started having some health issues. Understandable. You can only get hit in the head so many times, but we handled it. We did what we can. We try to be safe. We go to the appointments, he’s takes his meds. We got an alarm for the house, got the service dog for the epilepsy. We don’t take unnecessary risks so-“

Eddie cuts off with a smile that is just clenched teeth and an almost laugh that’s incredulous all the way through like he cannot believe this. He flips the camera around to show Steve hanging up Christmas lights on the outside of the house, “So why. Why is my fall-risk husband on the fucking roof.”

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

[oneforthemunny]

autumn changes |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you and eddie take bea to the farmer's market to pick out a pumpkin.

still on my fall shit lol. feeling hormonal and longing for a child, so a domestic soft dad!mafia!eddie x mom!reader fic was in order bc i said so lol. very fluffy and sweet.

“What about the big white ones?” You pointed across the aisle, stepping towards the wooden crate filled with ‘Cinderella Pumpkins’ as the chalk sign read. 

“Oh, look at these Bea, you know what they call these?” You cooed at the little toddler, bouncing her lightly on your hip, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, knuckling her eyes sleepily. The three year old was still a little grumpy about being woken up from her car ride nap. 

“Baby,” Eddie hissed, closing in on you, eyes scanning the crowds. “Stay close to me, alright?” 

You rolled your eyes. “We’re right here, Eddie.” Your tone clipped, shoulders tight with irritation. You knew his protectiveness came from a place of love, pure adoration and devotion for you and Bea both. Still, it was irritating. 

Eddie’s narrowed gaze pierced through you, even behind his darkened sunglasses. A tattooed hand sliding over your waist, squeezing your hip lightly in warning, the same way he used to when you two had first started dating. It sent a chilling thrill of excitement to your core, glancing over your shoulder at him with a small grin. 

“Look, Bumble Bee, these are called Cinderella Pumpkins.” Your voice lifted in a soft coo that had Eddie’s chest tightening with affection. 

“Princess?” Bea’s eyes lit up, perking up from her sullen state at the mention of one of her beloved Disney Princesses. Though she was favoring Jasmine these days, she was still a fan of any of them. 

“Mhm,” You hummed, holding her close to your chest. “What do you think, should we get those?” 

“Yes,” Bea wiggled, trying to push out of your arms, ready to get down and run around. “Get-Get the big one, Mommy.” She pointed a finger over towards the rather large white pumpkin on the ground. 

“The big one?” You gasped lightly, bouncing her on your hip so she shook with laughter, giggles trilling out in a soft screech. 

“You gotta ask Daddy if we can get the big one.” You muttered lightly, turning towards Eddie. “He’s the one who’s gotta carry it.” 

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, your cheek pressed to Bea’s, face to face; the two of you looked so alike. He always told you that. You’d roll your eyes, scoff and insist she was his twin, but he saw more of you in her every day. 

“Can we get the big one, Daddy?” Bea reached for Eddie, practically launching herself in his arms. “Please? I asked really, really nicely.” She curled into him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, looking up at him with big brown eyes rounded so sweetly- a look she definitely got from you. 

“You did ask nicely, thank you.” Eddie hummed, running a hand over her messy hair, tangled from the wind. “What do you think, sweetheart? Do you want one or two for the porch?” He looked at you, already reaching for his wallet in the back of his jeans. 

“Probably two. I can put them on either side of the door.” Eddie passed you his wallet, keeping a careful eye on you as you walked to the front to pay. He scanned the crowds again, letting Bea babble away to him about the different things she saw, humming in response lightly as he watched. Eddie knew Gareth was lurking around somewhere, no doubt scanning the crowds just as he was. 

“Hey, Ed,” You called, breaking him from his trance. “She said they have wheelbarrows you can borrow to load them to the car if you want.” 

“Oh,” Bea squealed, turning towards Eddie so quickly she almost hit him in the face. “Can I ride in the wheelbarrow?” 

“Ride in the wheelbarrow?” You parroted with a grin. “Why do you wanna ride in that, hm? Are you a pumpkin now?” 

“Nooo,” Bea giggled, leaning back to look at you. “I just wanna ride in it.” 

You eyed her playfully. “Hm, maybe if you ask nicely.”  

“Please?” Bea added quickly, already squirming to get out of Eddie’s arms, sending his heart lurching with panic. 

You didn’t seem bothered, pulling the wheelbarrow off the ground, maneuvering it towards the pumpkins. “Fine, but let me load these in first, ok?” 

“Let me get them.” Eddie clicked, reaching a hand out to stop you before you could wrangle the obnoxiously large pumpkin up. “I got it, baby. You hold her.” He passed Bea to you, bending down to lift the pumpkin, hoping his rings didn’t stab it like last time. 

“Are you going to help me decorate when we get home?” You cooed to Bea, swaying her lightly like you did when she was a newborn. You knew she was too old, all the parenting books told you that, but it was a habit- one that soothed the both of you. 

“Yes,” Bea grinned, curling in closer to you. “I’ll help you, Mama. We can put the bats up.” 

Eddie’s heart burst with warm joy at her soft sing-songy voice. For all his hesitation and terror about having a baby, he never knew he could love something so much. From the moment she was born, all seven pounds of screaming baby, he’d been so overwhelmed with a feeling of adoration he couldn’t begin to explain. Everyday it seemed to grow, for the both of you- his girls. 

Bea settled on top of the pumpkins, gripping the sides as Eddie pushed slowly over the graveled parking lot, her tiny giggles and squeals of laughter leaving you both beaming with pride. 

“Mama,” Bea turned, leaving both you and Eddie cringing in fear, for a moment, scared she would fall. “Can we make the pun’kins into carriages like on the real Cinderella?” 

“Sure, baby. I think we can craft that.” You smiled, speed stepping to stand beside her, a hand on her back to steady her. 

“We can put bats on them too so-so it’s scary.” Bea giggled. “Right? Because Halloweens ‘sposed to be scary, right, Daddy?” She turned to look at Eddie over her shoulder. 

“That’s right.” Eddie grinned, making his way towards the sleek black car in the parking lot- bigger than the luxury sports cars he had in the past. Safer now and bigger for a baby, his baby. 

You lifted Bea out of the wheelbarrow, carrying her around towards the backseat to buckle her into place, while Eddie loaded the pumpkins in. The car ride back was much louder than the one there, Bea babbling on and on to you and Eddie about Halloween, her costume, the decorations, what candy Grandpa Wayne would have this year. 

Eddie held your hand in between the console, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he allowed himself to relax just for a moment. He let himself feel at peace, safe in the serenity of the car with his family. 

[wormdebut]

Eddie has a tarantula.

Names her Shelob.

He loves Shelob. Let’s her waltz up and down his arms, takes her on ‘walks.’ (He lets her meander around the living room for like three minutes)

He tries to show everyone his beautiful little friend and everyone is so scared of his beloved, which he finds pathetic. Shelob is an angel, of the highest order.

Robin hates her the most, but she tries to be a supportive friend. Tells Eddie one day that her cousin/best friend/soulmate would probably “love the damn thing, he’s a fucking weirdo like you” and it makes Eddie happy, excited, because Shelob is gorgeous and deserves to be cherished.

Jokes on him cause Robins cousin Steve falls in love with Shelob and Eddie.

[estrellami-1]

Anything

Trigger warning: discussions of death. Not a main character, but it does happen. Lots of angst. Lots of hurt/comfort. I’ll post it in the tags as well.

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a big problem, not really, but his brain won’t let it go and is making it a bigger deal than it really is.

Eddie won’t ride in his car alone.

With the kids, sure; he’ll practically dive into the backseat, noogie Dustin, generally make a nuisance of himself.

But if it’s just the two of them? If Steve insists on driving, Eddie will take his van. There’s no problem if Steve wants to ride with Eddie. But the other way around? Eddie riding with Steve? That doesn’t happen. And Steve has no idea why.

“Talk to him, Dingus,” is Robin’s advice. He’d flip her off, but unfortunately he thinks she’s right: this is something they’re gonna have to talk through.

So Steve pulls on his big-boy pants and marches himself to the Munsons’ trailer, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly.

He doesn’t expect Wayne, but maybe he should’ve, because that’s who answers the door. “Hi, Steve. You’re here for Eddie, I bet, he’ll be in his room.” He moves aside to let Steve in, and Steve thanks him after a second before moving down the hall to Eddie’s room.

He hears him before he sees him; or, more accurately, he hears his guitar. He’s playing the acoustic tonight, instead of his usual sweetheart, so Steve knocks instead of walking in like he’d usually do.

The guitar stops, and Steve hears it being put down, hears a heavy sigh. “Wayne, I’m not really in the- oh.” He opens the door as he speaks and blinks at Steve. After a second, he smiles. “Hey, man, c’mon in.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Are you okay?” 

Eddie purses his lips. “Define okay. I’m not currently being eaten by bats, y’know? But playing the acoustic always reminds me of my Ma.”

“Ah.” Steve shifts. “Sorry, man. Maybe I should come back later.”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re here now, aren’t you? I can’t be that terrible company.”

Steve snorts. “No, I just… I had a question, but it can wait.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He turns, sits on his bed. Motions Steve into his room.

Steve sits next to him, more comfortable here than in his own room. “Do what?”

“Put yourself last.” He shrugs. “You can ask me. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Okay, fine. Why won’t you ride in my car?”

Eddie frowns. “I do, though? Hell, I did what, two days ago? You, me and Dustin went to that comic store in Indy.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why won’t you ride passenger in my car, alone? Without any of the kids? And even two days ago you were in the backseat with Dustin.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.”

Eddie takes a breath. “No, it’s- yeah. You should know.” He clears his throat, grabs the acoustic again. Plays a riff of some sort, fingers dancing over the frets. “I think I feel like I have to save everyone. Or at least be in a position where I can save them, if the need arises.” He swallows, takes another breath. His fingers still. They tremble over the strings. “Did I ever tell you how my ma died?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to inhale sharply. He shakes his head. “We can stop,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully. “I do, though.” He shakes his head. “I was… I was six. It was three days before my seventh birthday. We were driving home from the city. Ma was drivin’, an’ she let me sit in the front seat, since it was almost my birthday. Or- that’s what she said. I think it was so we couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save her.” He swallows. His eyes are glassy. His accent is thick, the way it gets when he’s thinking about her, or when he’s emotional. His left hand grips the neck of the guitar tightly. Steve worries for his fingers. “We weren’t goin’ that fast, even, but forty’s enough when-” he shakes his head, looks away. Coughs out something that wanted to be a sob. Steve takes the guitar, takes Eddie’s hand. Puts the guitar down. Doesn’t let go of Eddie. “She unbuckled her belt. Dad didn’t see it. I did. Didn’t say anythin’. Maybe I should’ve, I dunno.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Then it all happened so fast… she smiled at me, an’ opened her door, an’ next thing I knew-” he wipes at tears on his cheeks. “D’you know what happens to a human head under the wheel of a car at forty miles an hour?”

Steve gasps, grips Eddie’s hand just as tightly. Pulls Eddie in when he begins to shake. “An’ I know why, now,” he whispers. “Dad weren’t good to her. I’unno what he done t’her. I know she did what she could. But I was there. I was right there.” He sniffles, trembles with the effort of keeping his sobs in. Somehow succeeds. “So that’s why. Figure if a kid were to try… I could stop ‘em. Figure if you were to try…”

“You could stop me.” Steve holds him tight. “I won’t,” he whispers. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back. “But I gotta be able to try.”

“Christ, Eds,” Steve whispers. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay but that’s a stupid question.”

Eddie giggles, still teary-eyed. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulls away to look him in the eye. “I’m staying tonight, okay? Nightmares are always worse after something like this.”

“Then you should go home,” Eddie argues. “Sleep while you can.”

“Nightmares are always easier with someone else.”

“Damn you, that’s true.” They both laugh a little.

Just then, Wayne comes in with two steaming mugs. “Listen to your boy, son,” he says to Eddie, handing over one of the mugs. He gives Steve the other with a wink. “Lavender tea with a shit ton of honey. Learned it from my ma.”

“Not my boy, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles, but thanks him for the tea anyways.

Steve thanks him too, and he winks again before leaving. Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d apologize for him, but you’d just defend him.”

“Hey, I like Wayne.”

“I know. Sometimes I think you like him more than you like me.”

Steve chuckles. “Never. You’re my favorite.” He moves so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea, leaning against each other. It’s peaceful, and soon enough Eddie’s yawning and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Imma pass out soon.”

“Then let’s get you up to brush your teeth before you do.”

Eddie groans like the toddler he secretly is. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, and you don’t wanna go to the dentist to get teeth pulled, either, now do you?”

“Shuddup.”

“Wow. Real master of words here. Really feeling that Dungeon Master power.”

Eddie thumps his arm, but snickers, and really that’s what Steve was going for in the first place, so he just smiles and leads Eddie to the bathroom.

Soon enough they’re in bed, tucked in next to each other, not quite packed like sardines and it’s only because of the heat outside that Steve isn’t more upset not to have more of a reason to touch Eddie. “Night, Eds,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie rolls over to face him and is temporarily blinded by his own hair. Steve helps move his hair, grabs at Eddie’s hand when he’s done. “Wake me up if the nightmare doesn’t, okay?”

“C’mon, Steve, I can deal with them-”

“I know you can,” Steve answers. “But I want to be up if you are. I want to help if I can. Please, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs after a second. “Damn you,” he says, “I can’t say no to you.” He’s smiling, despite his words, so Steve smiles back.

“Thank you.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds.”

Steve wakes up to Eddie crying out in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he’s got tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve sits up, turns on the lamp, and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie?”

He rolls over, away from Steve, and continues sobbing. “Eds? Are you awake?” No answer, so Steve puts his hand back on Eddie’s shoulder and shakes a little. “Eddie, wake up!”

He’s up with an aborted yell and a flail of limbs, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his room, trembling. He sniffs and turns to face Steve, finally realizing he’s there, and Steve opens his arms for a hug.

He collapses into Steve’s arms, face mashed into the side of Steve’s neck, arms snaking around Steve’s torso to give an ineffectual tug. Steve takes the hint and inches closer until they’re practically hip-to-hip. “Y’wanna talk about it?” He asks. Eddie sniffs and shakes his head. “Y’want me to talk? To distract you?” Eddie nods. “Okay. Uh… I may have bitten myself in the butt with this one, ‘cause I’m not a great storyteller, not like you are, but did you know we actually met in middle school?”

No answer. “We did. Hawkins Middle was putting on its annual talent show. Now, back then, I was nobody. No one knew me, my name, my parents… nothing. I had one friend named Tommy, who I’d grown up with. Of course, you know him, and you know what happened between us, but he was my only friend back then. I didn’t tell anyone, but I signed up for the talent show. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something. I’ve always had a pretty decent voice, so I figured I could just sing, if I couldn’t figure out anything else to do. Knew I’d at least beat out Tammy Thompson.” He shifts so Eddie’s hair is no longer a choking hazard and pets his hand over Eddie’s head, doing his best to tame the wild curls. “So it’s the night of the talent show, right? And it feels like the whole school is there. I’m sitting backstage, peeking through the curtains, and am about to have my very first panic attack. Someone bumps into me and knocks me over. They tell me to watch where I’m going, even though I wasn’t moving. So now I’m on the ground, thinking about the crowd, and the noise is getting to be too much, and someone grabs my hand and it all… stops. Just like that. It’s silent, other than, like, a ringing sound in my ears. And this boy, the one who grabbed my hand, kneels in front of me, puts my hand on his chest-” Steve demonstrates, moving so he can grab Eddie’s hand and put it on his chest, just over his heart. “-and tells me to breathe with him. In, out. In, out. He raised his hand when we breathed in, and lowered it when we breathed out. In, out. In, out. And when my breathing’s calmed down, he tells me to name five things I can see. And you know what I said first?”

Eddie furrows his brows. “My… my hair?”

“Yup,” Steve nods. “But you’d just had it shaved off, so d’you know what I really saw first?”

“What?”

Steve giggles. “Your ears.”

Eddie groans and ducks his head, pressing his forehead into Steve’s chest. “Hated my ears.”

“I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound mean, but is actually a compliment,” Steve warns him. “Your ears reminded me of Dumbo. I always loved that movie, the reminder that we don’t have to change who we are in order to be loved. That sometimes the things we hate most about ourselves, the things people tease us about the most, are actually the things that help us most, in the end.” He guides Eddie to lay down. “And I’m not saying your ears are what saved you. But I am saying they reminded me that everything, maybe, isn’t entirely hopeless.” He smiles, tucks Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Says, “I like your ears.”

Said ear burns red. “You’d be one of the few.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’s your thing? Your… ears?”

Steve hums. “Did you know I cried a lot as a kid? I was very emotional, very easily moved. My dad always hated it, so I learned to cover it up. But I think it’s what got me here in the end. I could’ve told Dustin I didn’t have time to help him, but I didn’t. I got roped into this whole mess, but it’s how I got to know him and the kids. It’s how I got to know Robin and you.”

Eddie smiles. “I’m glad you cried as a kid.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” He shifts, a little closer, a little more down the bed so their eyes are level. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing I want less.”

“D’you think you can sleep?”

Eddie takes a breath. Steve feels the exhale over his cheek. “Maybe.”

“M’kay. Lemme know if you can’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Eddie.”

He giggles. “I’m kidding. I’ll let you know. I just… won’t stop talking at you until you answer.”

Steve hums, lets his eyes slip shut. “I’ll always answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, so soft. It makes something warm unfurl in Steve’s chest. “I know you will.”

Steve reaches out, squeezes Eddie’s hand in answer. Lets sleep drag him down the way it’s wanted to since he lay back down.

He doesn’t think about the fact that their hands are still clasped.

He’s the first one up in the morning, and he’s a little annoyed by it because they’d shifted during the night, so Steve is no longer facing Eddie.

His annoyance lasts for all of two seconds before he realizes there’s a warm weight behind him and over his hip, and he figures out it’s because Eddie is behind him, arm over Steve’s hip, fingers curled against the little bit of skin visible from Steve’s shirt riding up during the night.

Steve smiles, sighs, and lets his eyes sink shut again.

He doesn’t sleep, just kind of drifts, so he feels it when Eddie wakes up. He feels him tense in a stretch, feels his forehead press against Steve’s spine, feels his fingers curl farther into Steve’s stomach.

He feels Eddie wake up fully and realize the position he’s in. Feels him hum, then stiffen, slowly pulling away. Steve aches about it, but doesn’t move until he’s out of bed completely, taking the time then to roll over as if he’d just woken up. “M’rn’n,” he mumbles, not exaggerating the sleep-rough in his voice at all.

“Mornin’,” Eddie yawns. “How’d you sleep?”

Steve hums, stretches, sits up. “Think I should be asking you that.”

Eddie smiles. “I slept fine. Now how about you?”

“No more nightmares?”

“Not at all. Think you chased ‘em all away.”

“Good.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh. Fine. Great.”

Eddie hums, but takes his word for it, offers his hand to help Steve up, which he accepts.

“Can I ask you something that I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna want to answer?”

Eddie grins crookedly. “You can ask me anything, Stevie. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.” He sits back on the bed, next to Steve. “What is it?”

“What was your dad like?”

Eddie blows out a breath, looks away. “Jesus, first thing in the morning, too. Uh… y’know how you said your dad is a grade-A asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in the state prison for the next… five? Ten? Years. I dunno, don’t really keep track. Was just little things at first, petty theft, then he got an ego and started stealing cars, met a guy who could clean ‘em, and he just…” he shakes his head. “Wayne says he got too big for his britches. I say he got what was coming to him. He tried to rob someone and it… didn’t go well. He got caught, the owner tried to scare him off, swung first, but it doesn’t matter who swung first when he’s dead and my dad was trespassing, right? Tried to say it was self-defense, but…”

“But he was trespassing,” Steve nods.

“Exactly. He got twenty-five for that, and it’s been… twelve years? So I guess he’s got… thirteen left. Not five or ten. Guess it feels like he’s been gone that long.” He sighs. “I went to live with Wayne before that, though… I had a friend, he was my best friend, and my dad… really didn’t like how close we were. Spit out a couple’a slurs, said something about sending me to a camp.” Steve’s breath catches. “I called Wayne that night. Poor guy drove that night, was there by… one in the morning? Picked me up and I’ve never looked back.” He shrugs, picks at his comforter. “Turns out Dad was right about me, but Wayne’s never had an issue, so.” He shrugs. His fingers belie his nerves.

“I think, if I were to ever tell my dad,” Steve says quietly, “a camp would be the least of my issues.”

Eddie’s fingers still for a second before continuing, not fidgeting quite as quickly as before. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to tell him.”

“I think I do, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got this… way. Of just proving himself right, every time. It’s why I haven’t left yet. He always finds a way to twist it around and show me I can’t make it on my own. Not on my Family Video salary.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe not on your own,” he admits. “But with a person or two? There’s Family Videos in other cities. Ask to transfer. Robin’s been making noise about heading to Indy, right?”

“I think she just wants out of Hawkins, and Indy is the only feasible place to her.”

“Very understandable. Where would you go, Steve? If you could go anywhere?”

Steve sighs. “That’s the problem, though. I can’t leave the kids.”

Eddie chuckles. “I should’ve known. Then why not find a place in between? Maybe on the edge of town?”

“We’re still both on a Family Video salary. I don’t think even combined we could afford anything.” Steve tilts his head. “You said a person or two. Who’s the other person?”

“Ah,” Eddie says. “Well, not to come between the platonic soulmates, but I’m sure Wayne would love to have his life back.”

Steve snorts. “Robin loves you almost as much as I do, Eds, of course you’re welcome.”

Eddie ignores that, for the sake of his own sanity. “Well,” he says instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a crack at those newspapers Wayne’s been hoarding.”

“Maybe it is,” Steve says, a strange sort of smile playing across his lips. “And I can ask people. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip I hear at work.”

“Oh, I believe it, trust me. Or are you forgetting I use to hang around Sam Goody?”

“Oh, god,” Steve laughs, “I had forgotten that, yeah.” He sighs. “D’you think we would’ve been friends back then? If we’d known each other?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie chews at his bottom lip. “Not because of you, but because of me. I was still stuck in that high school hierarchal shit, y’know? I would’ve seen you as an asshole jock even though you weren’t anymore.”

“I think I’m still working on it.”

“I think we’re all working on being who we want to be.” He stands and offers Steve a hand up with a grin. “And y’know what helps with that?”

Steve chuckles, places his hand in Eddie’s. “What’s that?”

“Pancakes,” he says decisively. “C’mon, let’s go bully Wayne into making us some.”

“And by bully, you mean ask once.”

Eddie hums. “Same difference.”

He waltzes into the living room, arms spread wide. “Sir Wayne! Our visiting prince has requested pancakes this fine morn.”

Wayne squints at him. “I’m your king, dipshit,” he says, lip quirked up in a smile as he winks at Steve. “Make your own damn pancakes.”

“Wayne!” Eddie cries. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”

“You’ll live,” Wayne deadpans. Steve giggles.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne. “Fine,” he says. “We will make our own. But there shall be no extra for you, sir!”

Following him to the kitchen, Steve says, “We’ll make extra.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne returns, “but I’d ‘preciate it.”

In the kitchen, Eddie sighs with his head halfway in a cabinet. “Okay, so we don’t have mix.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “I can make them from scratch.”

“Or,” Eddie says, turning to Steve with a grin. “We can go out.”

“We could,” Steve allows. “But then Wayne wouldn’t get any.”

Eddie hops backwards onto the counter and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Y’know how I said we wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“It really would’ve been entirely my fault.” He sighs. “You’re just… so nice. And it would’ve been unbelievable, for me, because the Munson Doctrine dictates that all jocks are assholes and stay jockish assholes. I think what happened… had to happen, if we were gonna be friends.”

Steve worries his lip. “Then… is it bad if I say I’m glad it happened? If only for that reason?”

“Only if I’m also glad it happened, for that reason,” Eddie responds quietly. “Y’know the only other person I’ve told about my ma is Jeff?”

“I’m…” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “I wanna say I’m honored, but that sounds weird.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve nods, and they stay there for a minute, looking at each other, until Steve looks away with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, pancakes?”

Eddie gusts out a sigh. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and shoves the flour towards Eddie. “Here. Two cups.”

Eddie frowns. “Only?”

“For now. We can always make more later if we need to.”

Eddie shrugs, but nods at Steve, as if deferring to his expertise. “D’you have eggs?”

“Uh.” Eddie checks the fridge, then the cabinet. “No, but we’ve got Spam?”

Steve snorts. “That works. Wanna cut up a can and fry it?”

“Works for me.”

And so they work, side by side, until breakfast is ready and they’re all three eating side by side.

After, Wayne stretches in his seat, glances at the clock, and mutters something underneath his breath as he gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, boys. Steve, you gonna be here for dinner?”

“Uh,” Steve says, glancing at Eddie. “Unless Ed kicks me out.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. 

“I’ll pick up burgers on my way back,” Wayne decides. “That work for you two?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods.

“Sure. Thank you, Wayne.”

“Son,” Wayne starts, then shakes his head. 

Steve gets the message: he belongs here. His cheeks burn. “Thanks, Wayne,” he murmurs.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he passes.

“So,” Eddie asks, once it’s just the two of them. “Any plans for the day?”

Steve makes a face. “I gotta work at two, but I’m free till then.”

Eddie snorts. “Lemme guess, you’re working alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well not today!” Eddie says brightly. “Why don’t I come with?”

Steve blinks. “Because… why would you?”

“Cause you’re my friend, Stevie. I wanna hang out with you but I can’t do that if you’re at work and I’m here.”

Steve snickers. “I guess we can talk about moving in together. Tuesdays are always the slowest day of the week.”

“Yeah! Wayne’s got the papers around here somewhere.” He trails off, looking around, then bounds over to the TV with a triumphant, “Ha!” He reaches into the crate the TV’s sitting on and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “Okay, we don’t want anything from last year… beginning of this year might be too old…” he hesitates, looking at Steve. “Maybe since Spring Break? A lot of people moved out.”

Steve hums, moves closer. “Good point. There’s bound to be something on the edge of town.” He sighs as he sits next to Eddie. “The only problem is Robin doesn’t have a car, or even her license. And if I’m working here, and she’s trying to work in Indy, how’s she gonna get there?”

“Well,” Eddie begins, “who says you have to stay at Family Video? Why not stretch your wings out? Try something else? Indy’s a big city with lots of opportunity. How about this.” He shifts so he’s facing Steve. “If you could do anything in the world, work anywhere, what would you do? Where would you work?”

Steve fidgets with his pant leg as he thinks. “A bakery,” he decides softly.

Eddie stills for a moment. “I feel like I should’ve seen that coming. You’d be a great baker, Steve. Or if you want to just sell the baked goods, you’d be great at that, too. Hawkins is small enough we don’t have need for a bakery. Not when you can get everything you need at Melvald’s. But Indy’s big. I pass by two bakeries every time I head into the city.” He puts a hand on Steve’s knee. “Stay at Family Video for now. But when we move, you can apply to those places. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the excitement coursing through his body. “You really think I could?”

“Steve.” Eddie sighs. “I think you are so much better than you see. I think you can do anything.”

“I dunno about anything.” Steve ducks his head as he blushes. “But, uh. Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “For?”

Steve looks up at him. His breath catches, for a second, at the look in Eddie’s eyes. He looks away with a shrug even as his cheeks heat up. “Believing in me, I guess.”

“Anything,” Eddie promises again.

Steve looks at him again. Really looks, even as his cheeks heat uncomfortably warm. “…Anything?”

Without looking away, Eddie grabs his hand. Rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Whispers it again.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Eddie kisses back.

[hairmetal666]

Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

[shushmal]

Eddie shakes the foundations of Steve's world on a Sunday evening, at 6:44 p.m.

Steve knows the exact moment because he's standing at the stove, stirring pasta sauce and watching the time to make sure the garlic bread in the oven doesn't burn. It's June and it's hot, and they've got all the windows thrown open to let in a cool breeze. Eddie's sitting at the little kitchen table, probably messing with his D&D game notes, Steve would guess because he's focused on making dinner so it's ready when Wayne gets back from his shift. The three of them will eat together tonight, like they have Sundays past since April, a new little tradition that Steve's always craved to be a part of.

Except, when he turns, after Eddie speaks, he finds Eddie leaned back in his chair, like he's been watching Steve the entire time.

But before that, Eddie says, "I'm in love with you."

Steve stops stirring. The numbers on the stove tell him that it's 6:44 p.m. If he looks, the calendar would tell him it's a Sunday in June. And Eddie just told Steve that he was in love with him.

The numbers change—6:45 p.m.

Slowly, like he's moving through water, Steve turns, looks at Eddie over his shoulder, finds him leaned back, watching, smiling soft and wistful. Steve turns a little more, looking closer.

Has anyone ever looked at Steve like that before?

Eddie's eyes are bright, round and relaxed, as he gazes at Steve, those pretty lips curled up just right, a happy little smile. He doesn't say anything, even though there's only silence between them now. The sauce on the stove simmers, bubbles rising through the thickness to pop in shushed bursts. Steve drops his spoon.

"What?" he asks, turning further now. Steve's bread is going to burn under the broiler and his sauce is going to be scorched if he doesn't focus. He doesn't know what time it is anymore.

"I'm in love with you," Eddie says, again. That smile grows a little more. "I'm so in love with you, Steve Harrington."

And Steve is good at moving on instinct, good at chasing the ball down, good at finding himself in the right spot to make the right decision. He moves now, floats across the little kitchen, until he's in front of Eddie, leaning down, breathing his air, tasting his lips—

Their dinner burns.

[mcdynamite]

Steve Harrington learns a lot of things about Eddie Munson in the months following Vecnapocalypse.

He learns who Eddie's favorite bands are and what toppings Eddie likes on his pizza. He learns that Eddie likes to talk, but is also frighteningly observant. He learns what Eddie is like when he's high, when he's drunk, when he's exhausted after weeks of shitty sleep plagued with nightmares. He learns all of these things and more, and he’s surprised to find that he really, really likes what he learns. Because Eddie is weird and loud and quirky, but he's also kind and attentive and the sort of person who just wants to bring a smile to your face when you're hurting, and it's good. 

Eddie is good.

The thing Steve learns that he can't seem to stop thinking about, though, is that Eddie is undoubtedly the most physically affectionate person he's ever met.

It starts in the hospital, less than forty-eight hours after Vecna's defeat, when Eddie wakes up. Steve is on Eddie Duty at the time, keeping watch over a man who hasn't woken up since nearly dying in the Upside Down, when suddenly... Eddie's hand twitches. And Steve does what anyone would do - he scrambles to grab hold of it. He takes Eddie's hand and squeezes, and sure enough, Eddie squeezes back and then he just... won't let go. Eddie’s fingers stay curled around Steve’s even when his eyes flutter open, and the nurses come in to check on him. So Steve holds his hand until the drugs pull Eddie back into slumber, and he doesn't think much of it.

Only, after that, it's like the floodgates have opened. Eddie is touching Steve constantly. He's linking their arms while they walk out of the hospital for the first time. He's sitting so close during movie nights that their legs press against each other. He's resting his head on Steve's shoulder - sometimes even dozing there. Or when Steve is tired, he's pulling Steve towards him so Steve can have a few minutes to close his eyes, secure beneath Eddie’s arm.

It's weird, at first, but it's not uncomfortable. Just... different. So Steve just goes with it.

By the time a few months have passed, he's so used to touching Eddie that it hardly feels like anything more than the natural next step when they eventually start sharing a bed.

They're at Steve's house the first time it happens - loose-limbed and sleepy from the joint they shared earlier with Nancy and Robin. The girls have taken the guest room for themselves, and Eddie doesn't even bother to ask where he's going to be sleeping. He just follows Steve to his room and climbs under the covers beside him - both of them stripped down to just a t-shirt and boxers. Steve doesn't question it, not even when Eddie scoots a little bit closer, eyes wide and searching, and brushes Steve's arm with the backs of his fingers.

"Night, Stevie," Eddie says softly, fingers drifting leisurely back and forth on the skin of Steve's bicep. It feels nice. Soothing. It makes him feel strangely warm inside.

So Steve just smiles, wishes him goodnight in return, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

The second time, they're at Eddie's. Steve has rushed over to the trailer in the middle of the night after receiving a frantic, post-nightmare phone call from Eddie. Steve takes one look at the metalhead’s red-rimmed eyes and trembling bottom lip and pulls him into a crushing hug.

Eddie clings to Steve like he's afraid to let go, and Steve lets him. Eventually, they end up in Eddie's bed, but they still haven't let go of each other. Steve lays on his back and wraps his arms around a trembling Eddie, who pillows his head on Steve's chest. Eddie is wrapped around him like a koala, and Steve thinks it should be weird, being so close to another guy, but it's not. It just feels safe, and he gets the best night's sleep he's had in years when they finally find sleep again.

Then, it just sort of keeps happening.

Sometimes, Steve calls Eddie after a nightmare, and Eddie makes the drive to Loch Nora to cuddle Steve back to sleep. Other times, it's the other way around. Sometimes it's neither, and it's just them making excuses to stay over at each other's houses ("I had a beer, so maybe I shouldn't drive"; "I don't wanna drive home in the rain"; "your place is closer to work anyways").

Eventually, they stop making excuses altogether after the night Eddie looks at Steve in the dim light of the trailer and simply murmurs, "I don't want you to go."

After that, most nights look something like this:

Eddie, wrapped around Steve with his chest to Steve's back, pressed together from head to toe, sharing warmth to fend off the broken limbs and cursed bats that haunt their nightmares.

Steve, running his fingers through Eddie's hair while they wait for sleep to take them - Steve on his back, and Eddie with his head resting on Steve's chest and an arm thrown across Steve's stomach, draped across him protectively.

Eddie, curling towards a trembling Steve after a nightmare, foreheads pressed together while Eddie uses gentle hands to wipe away the tears and murmurs soft comforts until the vice around Steve's lungs loosens its grip.

Steve, spooning Eddie from behind, his own knees tucked into the backs of Eddie's, his face buried in the warm juncture of Eddie's neck, and Eddie's soft curls brushing against Steve's cheeks.

It's just them - Eddie and Steve and Steve and Eddie - in the darkest hours, night after night. Sharing breaths and trading secrets and granting trust until one day, Steve wakes up to the feeling of Eddie's warm body against his own, and Eddie's soft breath on his skin, and he realizes that somewhere along the line, something changed.

Somewhere along the line, between nightmares and secrets and achingly gentle touches, Steve fell in love.

And, God, he's still falling.

Eddie wakes only moments later, rolling over beneath Steve's arm so they're no longer spooning, but facing each other, his big, brown eyes landing on Steve's to fix him with a sleepy smile. It's beautiful. Eddie is beautiful, and Steve can't believe he didn't see it before.

He grants Eddie a smile in return, along with a soft, raspy, "Hi."

Eddie's smile widens. "Hi."

Steve stares at him for a long moment, gaze lingering on Eddie's long lashes, on the freckles that dot Eddie's nose and cheeks, so close now that Steve could count them, if he wanted to. He thinks he probably will, one day. The look in Eddie's eyes is soft and open, and the unabashed love shining through them nearly knocks the air from Steve's lungs.

"Did you know?" Steve asks softly, brushing their noses together. "Did you know that I'm in love with you?"

Steve hears Eddie's breath catch. He watches Eddie's eyes widen. "No," Eddie breathes. "But I hoped. God, I fucking hoped."

Steve swallows as his entire body tingles with emotion. He's so happy he sort of wants to cry. He thinks he might, if Eddie keeps looking at him like that - like Steve is a goddamn miracle. "Yeah?" Steve whispers.

Eddie nods, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, Stevie. Don't know if I would've survived, if it was just me."

Steve can't help himself. He kisses Eddie's forehead, lets his lips linger there for a moment before pulling away. "It's not just you, Eds. Promise."

And that morning, Steve Harrington learns yet another thing about Eddie Munson. He learns how Eddie kisses - like Steve is something beautiful. Precious. Worth taking care of. Like Eddie loves him, and Steve loves Eddie.

Steve learns how Eddie kisses, and he thinks it's probably his favorite thing he's learned yet.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Starving artist Steve Harrington just trying to pick up any job that’ll pay the bills so he can keep making art picking up a bartending gig at some album release event in LA because it pays a flat $500 for 4 hours of his time plus tips

The album ends up being a much-anticipated follow up to an extremely successful debut album for Corroded Coffin, a metal band that somehow made a huge dent across multiple genres with their Spotify Lounge cover session

The lead guitarist and singer, Eddie Munson, is known for being a charmer, but Steve doesn’t fall for it and that just makes Eddie work harder to impress him

Cut to Steve leaving well after the party wraps up, nearly $1000 richer (thank you drunk rich people who forgot they’d already tipped him $20) and running right into Eddie smoking behind the venue

He’s not supposed to smoke, messes with his voice, so he offers Steve his last cigarette and asks him how the night went. Steve’s honest and says he got enough money to pay off his rent for the month and have some leftover for groceries so he’s pretty happy

Eddie asks if bartending is what he always does and Steve unloads on him about his art, how he always knew it would lead to living thin, but that he didn’t mind if it meant he still got to create things that let people see the world differently

Eddie won’t admit it for at least four more months, but he fell in love with Steve that night, listening to the way he described his process and watching as his eyes lit up as he told him about a new thing he wanted to try with oils and clay pinch pots as soon as he had the money for studio time and materials

Eddie won’t admit it for another six months, but he “forgot” the nearly $5000 in cash in the jacket he let Steve borrow in hopes that his bills would be taken care of long enough for him to get whatever studio time he wanted

And Steve wouldn’t admit it for almost a year, but he knew all along that Eddie’s charm worked on him from the first time he ordered a fruity drink at the bar and called him Stevie

[loveinhawkins]

While he’s still not recovered enough to play the guitar, Eddie takes up writing again. He uses a scrappy notebook, nothing special: to start with, it’s more a record of his handwriting slowly becoming clearer; gripping the pen, moving it across the page, no longer seems such a daunting task.

And look, it’s not like he’s Shakespeare here, somehow churning out masterpieces from a hospital bed. Sometimes he’s just doodling, flooding the margins with black ink until it bleeds through to the other side, looping spirals over and over for no reason—or maybe just to prove that he can.

He always keeps the notebook close by: folded over, the spine broken so it can rest propped up on the bedside cabinet. Sometimes he forgets, has to quickly put it under the sheets if he’s still writing whenever a nurse comes in.

He doesn’t know what he’s afraid of them seeing, exactly. Just remembers the fear of middle school—a boy ripping his notebook out of his hands and just laughing at Eddie’s desperate attempts to get it back.

It had been a lesson—to not be careless. To not leave pieces of himself lying around for others to handle.

Gradually, he fills more and more pages. Diary entries emerge in between mindless scribbles, and they help even if he’s not ready for talking about March yet, not even to himself.

He painstakingly logs conversations had during visiting hours; just focusing on one word leading into the next is calming, helps bring him out of his head. He’s got whole pages devoted to Wayne’s birdwatching, and actual full-blown diagrams thanks to Robin Buckley filling him in on obscure band kid drama.

On nights when his heart races for no apparent reason, he stays up writing—usually drifts off to sleep by the afternoon, notebook slipping through his ink-stained fingers.

He stirs awake on one such day, and he doesn’t know why until he hears the rustle of pages, the gentle thunk of something being set down.

His notebook.

“Did you look?” he murmurs, more asleep than awake. Maybe that’s why he asks: time is strange in dreams, long buried fears drifting up to the surface.

“No.”

And Eddie manages to open his eyes just enough to see Steve standing by his bed. He’s neatly set the notebook in its usual place on the cabinet, except he’s shut it so the edges don’t curl up all that much.

“No, I didn’t look. Eddie, that’s yours, okay?” Steve says softly, but no less serious for it.

And Eddie wonders if there’s more to the pages he’s filled, even the scribbles—if he’s revealed more of himself than he thought.

“You can if you want,” Eddie mumbles into the pillow.

“Shh. Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t mind if it’s you,” Eddie says. He reaches for words, clumsy with drowsiness, and he surprises himself with what he says, but he finds that he means it. Feels it, so certainly. “Want… want you to see.”

The thought would’ve been terrifying years ago.

But this isn’t middle school, and he trusts Steve Harrington with his heart.