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salchica · 25 days

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honey + hazelnut

“Are you from Tennessee?” He says. Hot Barista cocks his head to the side, confused. He’s adorable. He looks like a fucking cocker spaniel. “No? I was raised in Indiana,” Hot Barista says. The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. “Because you’re the only ten I…” God, Eddie’s gonna do it, isn’t he? “Because you’re the only ten I see.” He finally chokes out. The awkward silence seems to stretch on forever, the only sounds being the impatient sigh of the lady behind him in line and the weary hiss of the espresso machine.

When Eddie was little he made up an imaginary boyfriend. And then he meets Steve in real life.

Published: 02/08/24 | Words:5,174 | Rating: Teen & Up | Link x

Originally for the Steddie Valentine's Day Exchange.

honey + hazelnut

“Hey Eddie, what can I get for you?”

Eddie looks up from his phone and immediately bluescreens. The barista’s fucking beautiful is the thing; all lean muscle and swoopy brown hair, moles dotting his face and neck, a pink mouth that Eddie just wanted to--

He quickly reminds himself that he’s public, specifically at a coffee shop with like, normal non-depraved people around. It’s called First Sip , and the vibes are chill, if a little gentrification-chic. First Sip is hipster adjacent, the outside painted a nice forest green with plenty of bookshelves and squishy couches. Cozy .

Eddie’s only job right now is to grab coffee and book it back to Chrissy’s apartment. Apparently eviscerating his latest draft is a very taxing job and requires copious amounts of caffeine, but when Chrissy mentioned the ‘cute little café that just opened around the corner ’, she failed to mention the fucking Adonis that worked there. If Eddie’s brain was online, now would be the time he’d turn on the good old Munson smarm. It’s a patented technique passed from parent-to-child up and down the Munson family tree; a peacock-esque display of finger guns, waggling eyebrows and bad pick-up lines. It’s a little pathetic and honestly best taken in from a distance, but four times out of ten it ends with a laugh and a number in Eddie’s pocket. Fuck it, Eddie thinks.

“Are you from Tennessee?” He says. Hot Barista cocks his head to the side, confused. He’s adorable. He looks like a fucking cocker spaniel.

“No? I was raised in Indiana,” Hot Barista says. The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. “Because you’re the only ten I…” God , Eddie’s gonna do it, isn’t he? “Because you’re the only ten I see.” He finally chokes out. The awkward silence seems to stretch on forever, the only sounds being the impatient sigh of the lady behind him in line and the weary hiss of the espresso machine.

Eddie is literally a writer goddammit; the fantasy series Chrissy is currently editing is full of words that Eddie himself had put in painstaking order. He wants to scream. Not even the cheesy one-liners he’s used in the past have been this bad. The Munson ancestors have failed him. They’re probably all face-palming in hell.

“Eddie?” Hot Barista says. Eddie can’t tell if he sounds amused or concerned.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. He knows a critical failure when he sees it. Eddie looks up at the menu hanging up on the back wall, the letters written in delicate, looping calligraphy against the black chalkboard. “Two black coffees, please.”

“Great choice, black coffee is a classic,” Hot Barista says. His eyes are all shiny, like he’s holding back a laugh. Or maybe he wants to scream but can’t because he’s on the clock. He probably gets hit on all the time by poor unsuspecting people who aren’t prepared to be faced with that much cuteness before their morning coffee. Oh no, Eddie thinks, am I a creep? When did I become someone who hits on people at their literal job?

His face feels like it’s on fire as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket and slides the money over the counter. Eddie mentally plots to buy Chrissy a Keurig or something so he never has to step foot in this café ever, ever again. As he moves off to the side to wait for his order, the woman behind him huffs a finally under her breath. Eddie’s shoulders bunch up around his ears. Like sure, yeah, he’d held up the line, but he’s paid for it enough out of sheer mortification.

I’m gonna fucking kill myself. He texts Chrissy.

After a minute, she texts back: Did you get my latte? All business, that one. She’s too used to his dramatics. Eddie should ramp it up a notch and threaten to quit writing. Fuck the New York Times bestseller list; Eddie’s going to retire and move to Siberia.

Here lies Eddie Munson, time of death 10:30 am. He hits send.

“Teddy?” The second barista says. She’s pretty, with a sharp face full of freckles and the gayest shag Eddie’s ever seen. Eddie looks around. As far as he knows, he’s the only person waiting for their order right now, but Lesbian Barista had clearly called out Teddy… which is Eddie’s name, technically, if only among family and very close friends. Eddie makes eye contact with her and points at himself. She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, you. Teddy, Eddie, whatever-- here’s your coffee,” She says. She shoves two cups across the counter. Eddie can see the steam rising from the little drinking-hole.

“How did you know my--”

“I refuse to get involved in this more than I already am,” She says, walking back to the espresso machine. Eddie picks up the cups and notices writing scribbled on the side:

Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date? Text me (xxx)xxx-xxxx! -Steve.

Eddie looks up at the counter, where Hot Barista -- Steve -- is still taking people’s orders. The line is longer than it was when Eddie first walked in, and Steve is hard at work, toned arms fighting for their lives in his tight polo. “...Holy shit ,” Eddie says.

So. The thing is, until now Eddie hadn’t taken in Hot Barista in his entirety.

He’s noticed parts of him of course, like the aforementioned hair, moles, and mouth-- but it’s like Eddie’s subconscious had wanted to spare him this realization by only letting him perceive Hot Barista as a bunch of separate but equally hot parts. It might have taken Eddie three tries to graduate high school, but he’s always been good at putting puzzles together… even if the obvious answer to the puzzle doesn’t make sense. His mind is buzzing as he puts two and two together--

Today was the first time he’d ever stepped foot into First Sip, yet somehow Steve had greeted him by name. He presumably told Lesbian Barista to call Eddie “Teddy”, a family nickname that only Wayne calls him, now. Instead of throwing coffee in Eddie’s face, this “Steve” had responded with his own equally bad pick-up line.

Steve is the very picture of an All-American Midwestern boy, all gee whiz and yes ma’am and aw shucks. Eddie had thought he’d looked familiar, but only in the way that most people look familiar when they share traits with the type of people you’ve seen your entire life. But as Eddie stares, his mind superimposes a younger version of Steve over this current one. He looks like… Well, he looks like Stevie, Eddie’s “childhood friend” when he was like ten. He hasn’t thought about Stevie in years, which makes sense because Stevie was imaginary.

He wasn’t supposed to exist.

So, to explain:

Eddie has always been like, really fucking gay. It’s something people tend to know just by looking at him, even when he was younger and didn’t even know it himself just yet. When he went to live with Wayne after everything that happened with his parents, the entirety of Hawkins seemingly clocked him as soon as he stepped a foot within city limits. So even though itwas like 2011 and gay rights were steadily gaining traction, people still avoided Eddie like queerness was contagious . In Indianapolis it hadn’t really been a problem, but Hawkins had never quite managed to shake off its Evangelical roots.

So the first two years Eddie was in Hawkins, he was lonely . He was the new kid with a shaved head and clothes that didn’t fit, and he doodled in class instead of listening to anything an authority figure had to say. People gave him a wide berth, and his only saving grace had been the woods behind Wayne’s trailer. He’d go there for hours after school, acting out scenes from the book he was reading at the time and even things from his own head.

It went on like that for months, until one day he’d found a boy .

He’d been perched in the biggest tree Eddie had ever seen, almost like he was hiding in the leaves. But since Eddie had a lifetime of observation skills - thank you, trauma -, he’d noticed the boy right away.

“Hi,” Eddie had said.

“Hello,” The boy said. He pushed his face out, and Eddie swears to this day his heart skipped a beat-- the boy was just so cute. He jumped down from the tree in a controlled fall, almost like he was floating. The first thing Eddie had noticed were the small wings on his back, delicate and see-through like a butterflies. “You have wings!” Eddie couldn’t help but state the obvious. “Is it like a costume or something?”

“Yeah. It’s a costume,” The boy said. Eddie shrugged-- he didn’t want to ask too many questions in case the boy was scared away, but he had so many. What materials did he use, was there a YouTube tutorial, how did he get them to move independently from his body--

Instead, Eddie went with a tried and true, “What’s your name?” Biting back every single question he had.

“My name is Steve, but you can call me Stevie,” The boy said. “What is your name?”

“Eddie, but my Uncle Wayne calls me Teddy. It makes me sound like a stuffed bear or something.” Eddie complained. He’d wanted to be cool, like it didn’t fill him with warm fuzzies the way Wayne said his name with such tenderness. Steve had grinned, like he’d understood even without Eddie having to spell it out. “Want to play with me?” Stevie said, and that was that.

This went on for months; Eddie rushing into the woods after school to play with Stevie until the sun went down. It had gotten to the point where Wayne started asking Eddie to bring Steve by sometime so he could meet his new friend. But every time Eddie had suggested it, Stevie had made a constipated face, so Eddie eventually stopped. He didn’t need to know everything about Stevie to know that he has Eddie’s best friend.

But one day when Eddie had gone to their spot, instead of the branches Stevie was sitting at the foot of the tree, crying. It was especially weird because it was like the tree was reflecting Stevie’s mood; it was droopier than usual, and even the little mushrooms at the base of its trunk were dull and shrunken. Stevie’s wings were folded against his back, and they weren’t even their regular violet-blue… they were gray and brown, so drained of color that they almost blended in with the bark of the tree. Stevie told Eddie that his mom was moving them, that there was something about a court or custody split and Stevie had to go away.

“Will you make me a promise?” Stevie asked. And not one to deny Stevie anything, Eddie of course said yes. “Promise you’ll never forget me, okay? Even when we’re old and big and you have friends you can see all the time and not only in the woods.”

“I’ll never, ever forget you Stevie,” Eddie said solemnly. The moment had felt charged, even if Eddie didn't know exactly why . He’d figured it out pretty fast once Stevie leaned in and quickly pecked Eddie on the lips.

“Now it’s sealed,” Stevie’d said.They’d shared a small smile-- it was Eddie’s first kiss, and he felt giddy with it, little bubbles of excitement popping in his stomach.

Sadly, Eddie never saw him again. Stevie didn’t have social media, or an email; in fact no one in Hawkins seemed to have known him at all. Eddie had asked everyone if they’d known Stevie, maybe from a church camp or boy scouts or some other secret thing that wasn’t hosted at the one middle school in Hawkins, but no one knew what Eddie was talking about. He never mentioned Stevie’s wings, just in case the wrong person overhead.

When Eddie finally hit high school and figured out he was gay, he’d just begun to accept the truth. Stevie had to have been a made up dream by a lonely kid with a vivid imagination. That was the reason he’d had wings and been Eddie catnip, because Eddie had made him up-- a cute boy with swoopy brown hair, a little shorter than Eddie so he was the perfect height for hugging, and fucking majestic wings. Looking back, little Eddie was fucking pure. All he wanted was a cute boy to hold hands with, sometimes.

All to say that yeah, Eddie’s queer as shit because what’s gayer than making up his first boyfriend? He’d imagined a lot… Except apparently he hadn’t . Stevie was Steve , and he wanted Eddie to call him. He was a real, flesh and blood human being, apparently living around the corner from Eddie’s best friend. The wings were nowhere in sight, but still…

Holy shittttttt.

Eddie wants to text Steve, he really, truly does. It’s just he doesn't know how to start.

‘ Hey, when you were 11 did you ever mysteriously disappear from Hawkins?’ It didn’t really have a good ring to it.

Neither did ‘ Will you marry me and help raise my children’, so… It’s safe to say that Eddie was stumped.

As soon as Eddie had read the number on his cup, Steve had turned around and given him a cheeky little wink. Eddie had nodded first to himself, then to Lesbian Barista, then to the harried mom with a baby on her hip sipping something that looked like a marshmallow on steroids. He’d then spun on his heel and beat it out of First Sip and out into the frosty Indianapolis winter.

Chrissy hadn’t even said anything when he’d pushed open her door, just grabbed her coffee and thrown it back like a shot. And now it was hours later and Eddie still hasn’t managed to text Steve. When he’d first told Chrissy about all of it, tree floating and wings included, she’d just quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you on drugs? Do you have a fever or something?” She’d put her hand over Eddie’s forehead, her face the picture of mock concern. “ Fuck you, man. I’m trying to be vulnerable here,” Eddie said.

“By telling me about your imaginary boyfriend. A boyfriend with wings. Okay, sure.” She was still skeptical, which was fair in all honesty. Now Eddie’s been rotting on her couch for hours, visibly flip-flopping back and forth on whether or not he should take the risk and send Steve a message.

“Chris,” Eddie groans. He draws out the ‘s’, hoping to annoy her enough that she has to pay attention to him. He kicks his legs up on her couch. Chrissy kind of hated it when he spread out all over it, but Eddie thinks it’s completely fair with the amount of back-breaking labor he did getting the damned thing up the stairs and through Chrissy’s front door.

“Babe, just text him,” Chrissy says. “Would you like to go out with me? It’s scary, but it’s not that hard.”

“It’s not that simple!” Eddie objects.

“It really, really is,” Chrissy rolls her eyes, setting down Eddie’s manuscript where she’s currently going over it in red pen. Eddie revels in the dull thump it makes when it hits the coffee table. ‘The Warded Wind’ had taken him a full year to finish, and as the third book in his trilogy it needed to be perfect.

Eddie’s favorite thing about Chrissy is that she insists on doing proofreads without a computer to fully focus and cut out any distractions.

“He literally disappeared off of the face of the Earth.”

“Wow, it’s so hard to hide from an eleven year old,” Chrissy deadpans.

“Okay but if he managed to do that at 11, imagine what he could do now?” Eddie says.

Chrissy pulls her hair back into a tight braid at the base of her skill, the strawberry blonde strands twisting against her fingers as she sighs. “Eds, can I be real with you for a second?”

“Please.”

“You’re gonna to text him. He’s your first kiss, your childhood friend and you said he was a total babe.”

“All of this is true,” Eddie says. “But I just… I don’t know, there’s part of me that’s like, he knew me as a kid. What if he doesn't even like me now?

“Eddie, you’re forgetting one very important detail,” Chrissy says. She ties her braid with a scrunchie and scoots over to the couch. Eddie flops his head to the side to look her in the eye.

“What’s that?”

“If you don’t text Steve, you’ll never get to kiss him again.” She sounds smug… she really does know him way too well.

‘Hey it’s Eddie. Wanna get coffee?’ He hits send.

The response comes almost immediately: ‘what time? u already know the place (; ‘

Eddie pulls one of Chrissy’s throw pillows over his face and screams.

They schedule their date for a week out, so Eddie has time to do some research. He’s literally shifted his whole perspective of his life in a matter of hours; he’d thought Stevie had been a fake boy made up by a lonely little Eddie and now he thinks that Stevie might have been real, but the wings and the frankly weird attunement to the woods behind the trailer park was just his overactive imagination filling in the details. So, research.

Chrissy’s extremely helpful in Eddie’s light internet stalking, showing him how to go to First Sip’s Instagram and look through the tagged photos since he still doesn't have Steve’s last name. He finds out that Steve isn’t just a barista, he’s the owner. There’s a lot of pictures of him with Lesbian Barista, whose name is apparently Robin. Constantly tagged is a bunch of fifteen year olds, and in every picture with them Steve gives off caring big brother energy. Eddie can’t help but find it hot.

But…

Part of him, probably the part that liked to write fantasy and held a little bit of hope that there was magic out there somewhere-- that part needed to be prepared. What if Steve was a fairy? Did Eddie accidentally sell his soul to him? How does he make sure this date with Steve goes well? Can he even eat the food in the café or will that make him stuck in First Sip forever?

So, Eddie does what any young person with access to the Internet does. He turns to Reddit.

-- What do fairies like? Shiny things. Old Buttons. Charms. Paperclips.Flowers. Berries. Honey. Luckily, Eddie was something of a hoarder; he loved trinkets and didn’t mind pushing them off on his friends. As for the food stuff, they literally were meeting in a café, so there was no need for Eddie to go buy all new stuff. Actually, he might grab some honey candies at the Quiktrip on the corner before going to First Sip..

-- What do fairies hate? Iron. Eddie’s rings are all so cheap, but there is one… It’s a dragon that wraps around his thumb that he found out at an estate sale when he first moved to Indianapolis, with little divots in its eye-holes where he assumes stones used to sit.He makes a mental note to put it in his pocket before the date. Actually, maybe he should scrub his hands while he’s at it.

-- Is it fairy or fae? All of the answers were supremely unhelpful, but Eddie decided it didn’t really matter. It’s not like he was going to ask Steve about it, and he decides to just go with the flow and let Stevie bring it up if it ever came down to that. Eddie wasn’t going to reveal that he had a weird delusion as a kid and that’s why he stopped looking for Steve over the years.

So like, Eddie knows he’s a creep. If Tommy Hagan or Jason Carver could see him now, they’d probably point and laugh, telling everyone how they’d ‘always known’ that Eddie would wind up in jail for something. But technically, Eddie’s supposed to be here-- one, First Sip is a public space and two, he’s not being weird. He’s just… really, really early.

It’s been a harsh Indianapolis winter, snow and the after snow-sludge making the trek to First Sip go from ten minutes to thirty, so like any sane, reasonable person he left an hour and a half before the actual date with Steve was due to start. He’d stood outside of the double glass doors, deciding on whether or not to actually bite the bullet and go inside, eventually giving up when Steve spots him with a slightly confused wave.

“Eddie! You’re--” Steve checks his watch. Eddie knows what it says, but it’s too late to backtrack now. “You’re really early.”

“I know, I was just… really excited to see you,” Eddie says. Honesty is the best policy, right?

Steve beams.

Eddie knows he probably looks insane, with his beanie shoved over tangled curls and his nose red from the negative temperatures outside. Hawkins wasn’t that far from Indy, and it was cold, sure, but something about the city magnifies it; like all the tall buildings trap the miserable weather and keep it all concentrated over a ten-block radius. Anyway-- all of that, the cold, the biting wind, the way he can’t feel his toes-- all of that’s worth it for the giggle Stevie aims his way.

Eddie wonders how he didn’t notice it earlier; Steve’s laugh is just like Stevie’s, ethereal, almost like tiny bells falling against each other. He wonders if that can be counted as proof that Steve is more than human; there’s no way a normal human throat can make that sound. He wishes he still played with the Corroded Coffin guys; he wants to make an album off of that sound alone. No lyrics, just an acoustic guitar and Stevie’s bell laugh and--

Damn , he’s being weird again. He clears his throat, ignoring the way a group of kids at a table near the counter are staring him down. They look oddly familiar-- Eddie tries not to let it show on his face when he recognizes them from First Sip’s tagged photos.

“We’re short staffed today, otherwise I’d say we could just have our date right now,” Steve says.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. He unwinds his scarf from around his neck. “I’ll just…” He gestures vaguely at the seating area. First Sip is actually fairly busy and Eddie doesn’t see any empty chairs. Even the bench by the window is full of people clacking away on their laptops. “Actually, I’ll probably come back later?”

There’s a tap on Eddie’s elbow, and he looks down to see a curly-headed kid in a baseball cap smiling up at him. He’s one of Steve’s, Eddie’s pretty sure, but then again he sometimes finds it hard to tell kids apart. “You can sit with us, Eddie.” The kid says. He points over at his friends who don’t even pretend that they’re not watching the interaction. They all give Eddie cheeky waves when he spares them a glance.

“Dustin, no,” Steve warns. Eddie looks around again-- all of the chairs and couches are still completely full and people don’t look like they’re moving. This isn’t the kind of thing that Eddie had in mind when he’d left his apartment, but if the kids were important to Steve he figures he can tough it out. “It’s alright Steve, I can sit with… Dustin, right?” The kid nods, holding out a hand to shake.

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Party, come on,” He says, pulling Eddie by his coat’s elbow. Eddie looks back at Steve and gives him a small smile-- I’ll be okay. Steve’s return look could only be interpreted as-- Be safe. Don't show weakness.

Weird.

Eddie sits down on the couch, sinking into the cushions with a groan as Dustin goes around the circle, quickly introducing everyone. Eddie feels pinned to his cushion; something about these kids stares makes his heartbeat kick it up a notch, and not in a good way.

“Party, like D&D?” Eddie asks.

“You know D&D? Point in your favor,” Dustin says. Eddie gets the very real sense that Dustin has a mental point tally running in his head. “Nerd shit is negative seven, Dusty-Buns,” The redheaded girl says. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Dustin says. “What are your intentions with my older brother?” Eddie didn’t know it was possible for a fifteen-year old to give a shovel talk and actually look like they were going to go through with it, but the murder in the eyes of every child surrounding him gave him actual pause. He clears his throat.

“Hi, my name is Eddie. I’m in my 20s, I write books for a living, and I play guitar in my spare time.” Eddie says. "Those are answers to questions you're supposed to ask, when you meet someone for the first time."

“Okay, so? We didn't ask.” The kid named Mike says. His features are weirdly sharp and shark-like, getting worse as he twists his face into a scowl.

“I really, really like your older brother, so my intention is probably just to date him.” Eddie says.

“Hmm…” Dustin says. He tugs in two other kids-- one with a bowl cut, Will, and a little Black girl that looked a little younger than the others, Erica. They put their heads together, whispering and occasionally glancing back at Eddie. The other kids don’t say anything, just keep Eddie pinned with their unwavering stares.

Unbidden, Eddie is thrown back back to his time in Hawkins, when he was a freshman in high school. He’d read somewhere, maybe on tumblr or something, that high school was the time you were supposed to reinvent yourself. And after not fitting in in middle school, he’d had a moment of weakness and just wanted to try.

He’d walked to the only Goodwill in town, running his fingers along the racks idly until he’d seen it . The most butt-ugly, high-collared polo ever created. He didn’t even think it over, not really, he just shoved it inside his jacket and walked casually to the fitting room. He’d always known how to be a freak; how to be big and paint a target on his back. At that point he’d worn it like armor, impenetrable and permanent, his valiant attempt at hiding his soft and gooey center. He’d just wanted to see what it would be like to be the type of person everyone loved. To have everything come easy .

“One more time... what are your intentions with our babysitter?” Lucas says.

Eddie is almost tempted to dilute himself to make sure these kids like him, pull on a mask and just have their approval. But something told him not to underestimate them; he doubts it will be that easy. For some reason Eddie feels like one wrong word could get him kicked out onto the street to fend for himself.

“I’m gonna have his babies,” Eddie says firmly. There’s a chorus of ' ew gross!', but the ice is broken. Somehow, things go alright after that.

When Steve finally slides onto the couch next to Eddie, First Sip is pretty much empty and all of the kids have gone home. Dustin had left with a warning to ‘not mess this up’, which Eddie figures is pretty much a seal of approval. He hopes he wasn’t that intense as a kid. Maybe he should send Wayne an apology letter.

“So,” Steve says. He’s shy about it, thick lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“So,” Eddie says back. He gives into his impulse and covers Steve’s hand with his where it sits on the middle cushion of the couch, lacing their fingers together. “Are you really my Stevie?” Steve positively shines, his smile making his nose crinkle adorably.

“You remember me!” Steve says.

“I mean I didn’t at first, but to be honest no one besides you and Wayne ever called me Teddy,” Eddie says.

“You can blame Robin for that. I was sad at first, thinking that I didn't keep your promise, until she told me I was being dumb and that I needed to jog your memory.”

“Well, it worked sweetheart,” Eddie says. Steve blushes all the way up to his hair at the pet name, and Eddie makes a vow right there to keep that look on Steve’s face forever.

The two of them sit on the couch long after First Sip is closed, talking about everything and nothing. It’s perfect.

Weeks later sees Steve squirming in Eddie’s lap, panting as Eddie is hard at work marking up his neck. Steve suddenly sits upright, pushing his hands against Eddie’s chest. “There’s something you should know,” Steve says. Eddie tightens his grip on Steve’s hips, mind fuzzily trying to work through what Steve’s saying. His inner monologue is just a loop of Stevestevesteve, so he’s a little slow on the uptake.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“I’m a fairy.” Steve says.

Eddie pauses for a second, tucking hair behind Steve’s ear. “I mean… I hope so? We’re literally making out?” Eddie was all for reclaiming slurs, but there was usually a time and a place. Stevie huffs a laugh, leaning in to nuzzle Eddie’s nose with his.

“No, watch,” and he closes his eyes for a moment, sitting back on Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie can’t help but look at Steve’s face, trying his best to memorize every part of him. He’s so transfixed that until they start glowing he doesn’t even notice the giant fucking wings that have appeared on Steve’s back until they flutter in his periphery.

“What,” Eddie says. There’s a little jolt in his chest, like a muted surprise. But he’d always known, hadn’t he? Steve was different, but he’d always been this beautiful, wild thing. On some level Eddie had always known it.

His eyes trace over Stevie’s wings-- they’re just like he remembers, gossamer and violet-purple, outlined prettily by the sunset. He reaches out a hand to touch, then hesitates.

“Go ahead, Teddy,” Stevie smiles. The wings warm underneath his hands. “Beautiful,” Eddie breathes. “I love you so fucking much, baby.” There’s a beat-- Eddie knows it’s a risk, he knows it’s too early, but it’s the truth. He doesn't want to take it back.

“Promise?” Steve says. His eyes twinkle with mischief, like he doesn’t know that Eddie could spend all day looking at him and not get tired. Like Eddie’s eyes focus on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Like Eddie hasn’t been absolutely gone on him since he was eleven and lonely, and Stevie was the only thing keeping him together. “I promise,” Eddie says.

He pulls his very real, very not imaginary boyfriend in, and seals the promise with a kiss.

THE END.

Notes:

Later, Steve will introduce himself as Prince Steven of the Spring Court. He’ll say that he was curious why Eddie was playing by himself when his games looked so fun. Eddie will also meet the Party as their pixie selves! Thanks for reading (:

Dividers by @strangergraphics-archive

#steddie #omegaverse #stranger things #not beta'd #coffee shop au

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