#high eddie

[wildlife4life]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by the super fantabulous @bekkachaos (dropped a whole fic, check it out!) @jamespearce9-1-1 @thewolvesof1998 @giddyupbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 and @disasterbuckdiaz. Thank you all so much and I am so very excited for your works!

Feeling a lot better today and I'm in still in a good NFL Buck mood. So here is a little snippet from the Dosed arc, featuring for the first time Buck's perspective. (Everything NFL Buck can be found here.)

After many different un-needed apologies from Eddie about the pollen and several assurances from Buck that Eddie is safe from the tiny ladies made of said pollen, the dosed firefighter finally passes out. Poor man is still in his uniform and is going to have one hell of a hangover when he wakes up. Or at least according to the article Buck speed read after Sergeant Grant stated his boyfriend and the majority of the 118 had been dosed with a hallucinogen. Most likely LSD. Buck lets out a groan of both frustration and weariness. He had just gotten home from the days workout with the team and was getting ready for his cool down when the gates intercom went off. Thinking it was another wayward delivery person who had yet again ignored instructions to leave all packages in the lock box, Buck was taken by complete surprise to see LAPD on the video. And hearing Eddie's desperate cries in the background, threw him for a major loop. Eddie is taken care of for the moment and quick texts to Carla and his sister, insured Christopher would be away until tomorrow afternoon, giving his father time to recover. The last issue at hand, is waiting patiently in Buck's living room. Rolling his shoulders, Buck steps through the arch way, doing his best to ignore the niggle of fear in his gut and to just put on the mask of Evan Buckley, charismatic and cool NFL quarterback. "Seeing that you are alone and a little more at ease, I assume firefighter Diaz is finally settled?" The Sergeant asks sounding truly concerned, but Buck can also see a glint of scrutiny and the mask of charm falters. "Um, yea." Buck answers trying and failing to meet her sharp gaze, feeling as if she could see every little secret he was holding. "Thank you, again for bringing him home and keeping him safe." Ms. Grant shrugs, "Its the job and he's fellow first responder. Plus my husband is becoming quite fond of Diaz, even without knowing him all that well." She catches Buck's wondering eye at that and it freezes him on the spot. "Have to say, finding out Evan Buckley, the LA Ram's shiny new star and hottest NFL bachelor is secretly dating a single father and firefighter from Texas, is the most surprising thing that's happened to me so far this year. And I allowed a delinquent kid out of my custody, to hot wire a concrete mixer to save a man trapped in his burning car." The entirety of the Evan Buckley facade shatters and Buck has to swallow every shard of dread. Shit.

Like Buck could fool Athena. Psssh. Hope you all enjoyed!

PSA: School has officially started for me this week and as I am in a 9 month fast track program, most of my focus will be on my school work, so my writing is going to slow down. But I will find the time.

Tagging (no pressure): @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @rainbow-nerdss @devirnis @spaceprincessem @fortheloveofbuddie @lover-of-mine @athenagranted @eddiescowboy @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @thekristen999 @shortsighted-owl @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @princessfbi @honestlydarkprincess @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @gayedmundodiaz @lemonzestywrites

[sofiiel]

High as hell and trying to write a song.

Eddie: uuuhhh, something, something, fuck the weed mistress on a violet shore? Ring the carrion bells, make ready for war?

Gareth: How much of that purple palm tree did you smoke, man?

Eddie: I saw KitKat God, and she told me to wash Satan's dishes.

Jeff: Dude, come back to earth.

[morganbritton132]

AU where Eddie gets all his love advise from the exasperated cop that keeps arresting him only to later learn that Steve is Hopper’s adopted son.

[the-pianist-from-accumula-town]

Eddie can lift the entire neighborhood!

Still frame

(gifs sure do throw your colors out the window huh. format compression is a bitch)

[hairmetal666]

Steve goes to a gay club for the first time alone. He and Robin, they'd talked about it since moving to Chicago, but every time they made plans he got cold feet.

But on a random, rainy Saturday with Robin back home in Hawkins, he decides fuck it, puts on his sluttiest jeans and polo, and goes to the damn club. He's sick of being nervous--he's going to make out with a guy for the first time tonight.

The club is crowded, loud, sweaty, the energy a pulsing wave. He's overwhelmed immediately, but it's invigorating. He pushes towards the bar, orders a beer, then cozies himself against the nearest wall.

He sips his drink and watches beautiful men dance and kiss and play, and he wants to be part of it, get out there, find his own person to get close to but--

What if none of this is for him? He feels out of place in his clothes, with his hairstyle, an old version of himself that doesn't belong in this world.

There's a swell of sound at the bar, and he glances over, expecting drunks or fighting. Instead, he sees a guy who makes his plans to leave slip straight from his mind.

He's unlike any other person there, even within his group. Long, curly hair, visible tattoos, ripped black jeans, a faded black t-shirt under a big leather jacket. He moves with purpose and grace, obviously uncaring about fitting in.

Steve can't stop watching him, transfixed. He buys another beer, settles back against his wall. He knows it's weird, but can't bring himself to care. Not when it's helping him feel more comfortable in his own skin.

The guy, he's vibrant, the brightest spot, his laughter reaching Steve even over the pounding music.

He's beautiful.

The lights flash, illuminating his face and recognition hits Steve like a fist. It's Eddie Munson, former freak of Hawkins High.

Steve's spine straightens, chest tightening. He can't believe--I mean there were rumors about Eddie in school, but he's here, right now, in Chicago, and Steve--Steve--

He abandons the remains of his beer, rushing out the door.

---

Steve goes back the next night.

He doesn't mean to; didn't have any plans to do it, but the clock turns to 9 and he pulls on the same slutty jeans, this time with an old blue t-shirt a size too small.

It's not because Eddie could be there again, he reassures himself as he shows the bouncer his ID. It's not like he wants to see him or has been thinking about him nonstop. No, it's because tonight's the night he finally makes a move. He needed a test run to find his footing, but now--

Eddie's at the bar. His hair is pulled up, loose tendrils around his face. No jacket this time; the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt showing off his wiry muscles, the swirling ink of his tattoos. Something low and hot clenches in Steve's stomach.

There's no way he's going to be preoccupied with Munson tonight. He came here to flirt and dance and maybe get lucky, and he'll ignore Eddie. He will.

Steve orders a beer, sits at the bar this time, his eyes lingering on black ink and pale skin. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the ease and assurance Eddie moves with. He's so unafraid to take up space, it's intoxicating.

He loses track of Munson when he orders a second drink, his face no longer immediately visible in the crowd. Disappointment sinks his stomach until a voice to his left says, "You better be planning to buy me a drink, pretty boy."

The voice is low, oddly melodic, and he turns to find Eddie Munson's sparkling brown eyes gazing down at him. He's surprised, hides it, says, "Sure. What are you having?"

Eddie's mouth opens, but his eyes narrow. "Wait--Steve Harrington??"

"Um." His mouth goes dry. "Munson. Hi?"

"I--uh--wouldn't think this was your scene." Eddie shifts back, puts distance between them, and Steve hates it. Hates that Munson thinks the space is necessary, hates that he used to a person that made people feel that way.

"Yeah, well. A lot has changed since high school."

"Is that right? Surely not this much."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Eddie's eyebrow lifts, but his mouth is a tight line. "Have a cigarette with me."

Steve nods and follows him out a side door into a narrow alley. Eddie pulls out two cigarettes, hands one to Steve. There's something about the cold politeness that sends a fizzle of disappointment down his spine.

"What brings you here?" Eddie asks.

"To Chicago or to this club?"

"Don't be cute."

"Can't help it." He smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. "I moved to Chicago three months ago with my best friend, Robin. I'm at this club trying to explore my bisexuality."

Eddie's in the middle of taking a drag, splutters on the smoke. "Holy Shit."

He shrugs, knows he's blushing. "What can I say? I've spent the last few years learning about myself."

"And one of the things was that you like dick?"

"Looks like it."

'Well, goddamn, Steve Harrington."

"Impressed?"

Eddie licks his lips, steps closer. "Maybe I am."

"I aim to please." Steve lets himself grin.

"I bet you do," Eddie's voice goes even lower, and heat dances deep in Steve's stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Steve blinks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes.

They go inside and join the bodies packed on the dance floor. At first, they keep their distance, dancing and laughing with an arm's length between them, but it's not long before they're drawn together, arms twining, legs pressed together. Their eyes lock, Steve can't look away, wouldn't even if he wanted to. Eddie's hands go to his waist, pull him closer.

"You're gorgeous, Harrington," he says it with his lips pressed to Steve's ear, goosebumps spreading across his skin.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

Eddie's mouth presses closer. "I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school."

"Fuck, Eddie," he says. "That's so--"

"Weird?"

"Fucking hot, dude."

"Can I tell you another secret?" Eddie's voice is all rumble.

"Course,"

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"You could do something about it."

Eddie smiles, eyes going darker, almost predatory. He leans in, their breath mingling, Steve's hitching.

"You sure you want me to?" Eddie asks, mouth barely brushing Steve's.

"Please," and it comes out like he's been punched.

He thinks the kiss will be hard, hot, but Eddie's hand is gentle as it cups the back of his head, slowly pulls him in. It's a soft meeting of mouths, almost tender. His head is swimming, blood thrumming low and hot and sweet. He parts his lips and then all he can feel, taste, sense is Eddie.

It cracks something inside him, and his fingers dig into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, eagerly licking into his mouth. It must crack something in Eddie too, because he's hauling Steve impossibly closer until his legs have to wrap around Eddie's waist, or they're falling.

They break apart with a breathless laugh, both red cheeked and bright eyed. They don't move apart, instead they dance and make out until the music stops and the lights come up.

Eddie twines their fingers together as they walk to the exit, Steve sweaty and elated and a little head over heels.

Out on the sidewalk, basking in the cool air, Eddie stops him. "Can I--uh, take you for a drink? Or back to my place? I don't--not to assume, but I--"

"Both. Anywhere," Steve laughs. "I don't want this night to end."

Eddie's smile is brilliant, heart stopping. "Your wish is my command."

[vulpixsworld]

@a-strange-inkling I can see this on Old Haunts. Like when Chrissy moved in with them.

Okay the post about that one guy who got high and thought it was night because it was dark so he sneaks into the kitchen and really slowly makes a bowl of cereal but he actually had on sunglasses and his parents were sitting at the table eating dinner.

Eddie who comes out of his room, aviators on and reeking of weed, and tiptoes down the hall, slowly opens the cabinet, makes a sandwich and a bowl of honeycombs, and creeps back to his room. Chrissy and Wayne are sitting at the table watching the whole thing go down. They both stopped eating to watch when he came into the room, both confused and then trying not to laugh. They say nothing until his door closes again and Wayne says "Butter?" And Chrissy giggles and says "yes please"

[wynnyfryd]

steddie meetcute at the bar bathroom sinks but it’s steve adjusting his hair way too specifically while eddie spends a full 50 seconds working a paper towel under his rings

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

���Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

[steveshairychest]

There's something so absolutely juicy about Steve and Eddie secretly hooking up for years before s4. They weren't exactly secret about it either, but everyone just assumed they hated each other.

Oh, Steve and Eddie are both going to the bathroom together? Steve's probably gonna stick his head in a toilet.

Eddie was seen being dragged behind the gym by a very red and angry looking Steve? It's just another fight.

Steve was shoved into the back of Eddie's van in the parking lot? He probably owes Eddie money for weed.

They don't get caught. Ever.

Not until the events of season 4 happen and instead of hanging behind while the others check on Eddie in the boat house, Steve pushes passed everyone to get to him and wraps Eddie up in the most tender hug, his hands running through Eddie's hair as he pulls back to ask, "Are you OK?"

[loveinhawkins]

When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.

Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.

If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.

The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.

Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.

But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.

It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.

Almost every senior.

It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.

But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.

He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.

It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.

He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.

But actually sitting there is his own choice.

He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.

Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.

So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.

“Wanna sign?”

Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.

“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.

Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.

Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.

Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.

“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”

Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.

A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.

And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.

The bell rings.

Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.

Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.

But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—

“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.

It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.

Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.

“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.

Good luck, Steve. —Eddie

Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.

Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.

And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.

He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it altogether, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Led by candlelight

Blurb: You and Eddie are close- closer than what most people call ‘friends’ and there’s no hiding the affection for you have for one another… despite what your peers say about you.

Pairing: Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Book a dental appointment because your teeth are about to rot from how sweet this shit is.

-

divider by @cafekitsune

You and Eddie grew up together, your parents regularly said hello to one another and engaged in riveting conversation from time to time and you would always seek Eddie out on the playground. Even back then you two were inseparable. You would always long to hold his hand, just because you could and he would let you. He would always let you.

High school hasn’t been kind to Eddie, the long hair adoring his handsome face wasn’t for everyone’s taste. No one cared that tattoos are only a form of self expression and that they don’t automatically make you a ‘devil worshipper’. Jean jackets were considered ‘poor taste’ and overall your peers treated him like trash- he was the freak of Hawkin’s High… and it shattered your heart to see him commit to the role, because you knew him. You knew how hard he had it, his home life and everything in between and you saw right through his act. You saw his pain.

Eddie never let the tormenting affect his mood when he was around you. You were his sweetheart and he would be willing to bow down to death himself if it meant he could see a smile grace your face. He opens doors for you, he’ll pry your dented locker open for you whenever you need your books for your next class, he’ll walk you home- right to your front door! And he won’t leave until you get inside safely. Sometimes, he’ll even surprise you with underground concert tickets, even when he can’t afford them, just because he knows how much you love music and how you are always longing for a little bit of trouble and rebellion. He looks after you when you guys watch horror movies together, holding your hand and passing you pillows to use to block your vision from the screen when things get a little too frightening- And yeah, he laughs at you and he teases you about it but he treats you with such kindness that it makes your heart swell to even think of it. Kindness that he deserves to feel, too.

So, tonight, you decide that you want to show him how thankful you are for him. For everything that he is, and that he represents and everything that he does for you. You have Robin and Steve arrange a get together with Eddie, but in reality it’ll be you there instead at the location- ready to surprise him. Eddie thinks that they are going to explore a creepy abandoned house just out of Hawkins but when he gets there he’ll be met with a home cooked meal, lit by candlelight. In the past months, and in your years of knowing one another, you’ve come to notice that Eddie doesn’t cook. Not for himself, not at all, really and you can’t help the tears that prick your eyes when you think of your best friend, who you love so much, living and eating from cold tinned food every night. He deserves more. He deserves the world and you wish you could give it to him.

You are serving him ‘the world’ in the form of some red wine that you stole from your dad and some spaghetti bolognese. You chose spaghetti for 1 of 2 reasons. Number 1 being that everyone loves spaghetti, and number 2 being that it’s a pretty hard dish to fuck up- so it was the safest option. Plus, you paired it with garlic bread which you know Eddie is an absolute sucker for. He loves it when you bake some for your regular movie nights together so it would be borderline criminal to not supply some.

The clock is ticking and you are starting to get nervous. Darkness has clouded the sky as it succumbs to the night and you’re beginning to wish you brought more than three candles. Nonetheless, they do provide a gorgeous warm glow within the house which you still can’t wrap your head around why no one is living here. It is quite remarkable on the inside.

You take a few deep breaths, your mind clearing as you wait to see Eddie’s vans headlights glare through the foggy windows, which they do, sooner than you had expected and now you are contemplating on bolting out of the back door and sprinting away. You pace back and forth, the worn out floorboards creaking beneath your feet as you fight to regain composure. This is just Eddie, your Eddie- the Eddie you adore. He won’t hurt your feelings.. he won’t laugh in your face. It’s Eddie…

The front door whines on its hinges as Eddie enters inside, causing you to stop in your tracks like a deer in headlights. Dried rose petals decorate the floor leading to the small table you had acquired especially for this occasion and Eddie’s jaw hangs loose at the sight, his voice clearly having abandoned him.

“S.. surprise!!” It’s hard for you to smile with how nervous you are, your face keeps on twitching and Eddie can sense your discomfort, however, he can gauge that this is a different type of discomfort. You’re really anxious, “I cooked.. for us! It’s nothing fancy but I thought hey! Maybe Eddie will really like this and.. and so I just threw this together because well.. because uh.. I..” in your panic you hadn’t even noticed Eddie secure the front door and walk towards you, but he had, and now he is standing with his arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against his chest.

You sigh softly, the smell of his cologne immediately acts as a relaxant and you feel like you can finally breathe in his embrace, “I want you to know how much I care about you.” You admit, your soft voice muffled by your busy buried in his t-shirt. Eddie holds you there for a moment, stroking your hair before he pulls away to see your face, his eyes searching yours.

“I already know, Sweetheart.” His ring clad thumb swipes across your cheek, “I have always known. You’re my person, remember? And I’m your Eddie. Always.” Your eyes flutter closed as you lean more into his touch, nodding meekly in agreement with him. Your heart has calmed in your chest and you suddenly get a whiff of the hot food waiting for you both on the table.

“You brought garlic bread, right?” Eddie quips, a grin forming on his face, “Cause’ if not then I’ll have to draw the line in this friendship.” You nudge his shoulder lightly, giggling at his remark as you pull a tinfoiled plate from your picnic basket.

“Do I look like a sadist to you? I would never see my Eddie go without his beloved garlic bread. Never!” Your hand finds your chest as you mime defensiveness and Eddie’s head falls back as he laughs, taking a seat at the tiny table across from you.

“Y’know, if I had know that you would be here waiting on me.. I would have dressed up a bit more.” He plucks at the Hellfire t-shirt that he is wearing and you look at him, doe eyed and oblivious.

“But you look great.” Your smile is so sincere and warm that it makes Eddie’s knees weak and he has never been more happy to be sitting down than he is right now. He wish you knew the affects you had on him.

“And you look stunning, Dove.” He glances at your outfit, “As always.” He quips with his classic Eddie charm and you begin to peel the tinfoil from the plate in your hands, trying to hide the growing heat on your face.

“Stop it.” You don’t mean it- you never do. You place the plate on the table, perfectly situated between the both of you and you hope that the garlic bread is enough to distract him from your love-sick grin, but it isn’t, “The food might be a little cold, I do apologise.”

“This is fine dining compared to what I usually have,” He twirls his plastic fork in the dish, “You don’t have to worry about me all the time.” He takes a gracious fork full of the spaghetti, a string of pasta slapping his face on the way in which causes your mouth to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Holy shit-“

“What? What is it?” Your smile fades.

“This is fucking delicious!” Eddie rolls off of his chair, parading around the room before he suddenly comes to cup your face in his hands, “You are a miracle worker!” His lips press against your forehead and a confusion stricken look possesses your face as Eddie bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

“What? What did you-“ Your fingertips swipe at your forehead and when you glance at them you see the red sauce staining your skin, “Eddie!” You pout at your best friend who is laying on the floor, his arm shielding his face as he chuckles relentlessly. You can’t take it, you have to retaliate and the only thing nearby? A piece of the garlic bread. You launch the delicacy at him and an eerie silence fills the room as the bread thuds onto the floor, but you don’t get scared, you get excited. You get so pumped with butterflies that you are already on your feet and ready to run away from him if need be.

“Was that- the garlic bread?!” Eddie bounces up to his feet, his eyes wide with shock as he looks at you, “Ohhh, ohhh- Now you’ve done it. Wrong move, princess.” He glances at the spaghetti and your heart drops. Your fight or flight kicks in and you are running away from him before he has the chance to cover you in spaghetti and meat sauce. You are in a fit of giggles as you fight to climb the raggedy old staircase, your feet nearly betraying you as you reach the top. Looking down to see Eddie closing in behind you laughing as he does.

“I’m sorry, Ed’s! I’m sorry!” You’re squealing as he corners you in one of the empty rooms, your hands outstretched in front of you to try and keep him at arms length.

“You insult the bread… you insult me.” He shakes his head, his curly brown hair bouncing as he does, “How could you do this?” His eyebrows scrunch and his lips downturn into a frown as he attempts to trick you into feeling bad, “I thought we were friends-“ He sniffles before he makes a sudden movement toward you, ready to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, however…

“Wait! Wait!-“ you scream, stopping him in his tracks. He quirks an eyebrow and his hands land on his hips ,”I brought dessert.”

He takes a step away from you, “I’m listening.”

You’re choking on your own laughter as you try to think of an escape plan, however in moments like these, when you are faced with Eddie Munson- you just have to go with the flow, “It’s called, ‘eat my dust’.”

You sprint past him and you hear him groan behind you as you leave him standing in the room but it doesn’t take long to hear his footsteps thumping toward you. Eddie is faster than you, but you got a head-start.

This time, when Eddie catches up to you, he avoids negotiation all together. Grasping your waist he flips you up and over his shoulder, carrying you back to the main room where your dinner has definitely gotten cold. You thrash in his arms, swaying back and forth with every step that he takes and eventually you give in. You accept the fate of the sauce.

Eddie plonks you down on your seat and you squeeze eyes shut, bracing for impact… but the impact never comes. You reopen your eyes to see Eddie looking at you, his brown eyes are rounded and they reflect the love you carry for him. He is kneeling on both of his knees in front of you, his hands in his lap.

“I wanna tell you something…” He trails off and your heart sinks to your stomach, this sounds serious, “Gorgeous.. I have loved you since we were 9 years old. Hell! I probably loved you before then, too. And.. and you don’t got to say anything but you should know. You deserve to know that I, Eddie Munson, am in love you with. Hopelessly in love with you. I’d do anything for you- but I just couldn’t keep this from you. Not anymore…”

Silence wrapped around you like a thick blanket, caging any words deep within your chest- but you were going to tell him, even if it choked you to death, even if it fucking killed you- you weren’t going to let him walk away.

“I love you.” Your voice is a wheeze as you fight to let the words free, “God, I have loved you for so long, Ed’s.” Tears glisten in your eyes at the intense wave of emotion that consumes your entire body, “You are the only person I ever want to be around. The only person who knows me- truly knows me and.. and I want this. I want us. Forever.” Your vision is blurred but you smile at him, hoping that he is smiling too, and once the tears fall from your eyes you realise that he is. He is beaming.

“Us? Forever?” He edges closer to you, coming to rest between your legs, “I’ve never wanted anything more, baby.” And just like that, the kiss you have dreamt about, wrote about, fantasised about- is happening. It’s happening and you could float with total happiness.

You and Eddie. Forever.

It has a nice ring to it…

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas (lmk if you want added!)

[wildlife4life]

Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by the always fantastic @daffi-990 @gayedmundodiaz @rainbow-nerdss and @hippolotamus Thank you all so much! Inspos today were beautiful!

It is still Saturday for me, and I am super pumped!!!! (My chiefs won a playoff game, and seeing Taylor Swift swag surf at the game, wow. Week made!) Jumping back to NFL Buck today, featuring more of the Dosed arc. More NFL Buck can be found here. Enjoy!

It takes a minute to make it up the too long driveway and Athena does her best to keep her judgement to herself. All of it is a bit exorbitant and a waste of concrete. A few feet up the drive, Eddie's home comes into view and it does not disappoint. A beautiful pale stone mini mansion with a six car garage, perfectly manicured lawn, and an expansive transom windowed entry way. Impressive place truly, but Athena has seen bigger and much more extravagant during her years in LA. What really has Athena completely gobsmacked is the curly blonde haired, blue eyed, over six foot man waiting in front of large wooden french doors. Dressed in a comfortable looking white hoodie, gray workout shorts, and black Nike sliders, is none other than the LA Ram's quarterback, Evan Buckley. Buck. Buckley. The numerous football games and the timing of Eddie's path to LA matching Evan Buckley's exactly. How the hell has none of the 118 and the rest of their family figured it out by now? She looks back at the man who has apparently been keeping one big ass secret. "Firefighter Diaz, you've been holding out on us." Wide, glassy brown eyes fill with fresh tears, "I'm sorry. I thought you could see the pollen too. Ravi could. And-and those little ladies, they were made of the pollen." Eddie releases broken sob, "Please, I'm sorry. I heard Buck, where is he? I want Buck, please Officer 'Thena."

So excited for the upcoming introduction of Athena to this au's Buck! Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @wikiangela @jesuisici33 @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @devirnis @jamespearce9-1-1 @disasterbuckdiaz @spaceprincessem @fortheloveofbuddie @lover-of-mine @athenagranted @eddiescowboy @evanbegins @elvensorceress @giddyupbuck @malewifediaz @thewolvesof1998@911onabc @911-on-abc @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @thekristen999 @shortsighted-owl @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @princessfbi @honestlydarkprincess @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites

[zipora666]

WELCOME HOME X MONSTER HIGH AU !

Frank as draculora , Julie as clawdeen, eddie as clawd, howdy as Frankie, barnaby as heat burns, sally as lagoona, wally as Cleo, y/n as deuce and poppy as headmistress!

[morganbritton132]

Steve walks in to Eddie’s studio during one of his live-streams and Eddie stops strumming to ask, “Hey, did you see that email I forwarded to you?”

Steve: Huh? No…gimme a second *checks email* Hawkins High wants you to give a commencement speech at graduation?

Eddie: Isn’t that insane? Why would they ask that?

Steve: You should do it

Eddie:What? No-

Steve: Not because of the speech. I don’t care about that. If they’re dumb enough to think you wouldn’t pull shit, that’s on them.

Steve: You should do it and we should bring Robin with us because Tammy Thompson is the choir director there.

Eddie: I…I’m not following

Steve: Robin had a massive crush on her. She couldn’t even talk to her. I wanna see if she still gets flustered and awkward around her

Eddie, considering it: Wait a minute, didn’t Tammy Thompson have a massive crush on you? What if she still does?

Steve: Eddie, that’s a given. She’s only human

[steddieas-shegoes]

When Eddie comes out to him, Steve makes a big mistake. His first reaction was to thank him for trusting him, which is what Robin told him to do in this situation.

But his second reaction was to say “I also like guys.”

Eddie blinked at him, clearly confused and defensive, like maybe Steve was making fun or not taking him seriously.

“Uh. You do?”

“Yeah man! I mean, no one else knows, but yeah.”

Eddie smiled and thanked him for trusting him with it, said they should hang out more, and recommended a queer bar in Indy if he needed a safe place to explore.

And Steve smiled and nodded like he couldn’t agree more.

As soon as Eddie was gone, he rushed to the phone in his kitchen and called Robin.

She called him an idiot, a dingus, a bisexual disaster —whatever that was—, and told him he absolutely wasn’t allowed to go to a queer bar without her.

She did at least agree to keep up the lie until he could find a way out of it without Eddie thinking he lied to hurt him or something.

But he started hanging out a lot more with Eddie and finding that they had more in common than he originally thought.

Eddie took Robin and Steve to the queer club and Steve…felt at home, felt welcomed, felt like he belonged. Robin kept giving him these looks all night, and Eddie kept dragging him to meet people who he cared about, and one of the guys on the dance floor kept pulling him out there to dance with him.

He felt free and alive and-

Queer.

It hit him as the guy, Paul maybe, was pulling him closer by his waist as his hips rocked to the beat of a song he didn’t recognize but felt like something he wanted on a mixtape. It hit him that he liked this because he liked dancing with Paul like this. He liked this because he saw himself visiting more, even without Eddie and Robin. He liked this because he could picture making out with Eddie in the bathroom.

He froze.

“You okay, sweet thing?” Paul asked him.

“I think I’m in love with my friend.”

Paul’s eyes widened momentarily before patting Steve’s hip. “Is he gay, honey?”

“Huh?” Steve was already trying to find Eddie in the crowd. “Oh, yeah. He’s here tonight.”

“Shouldn’t you be dancin’ with him then?”

Steve finally looked back at Paul, who had his hands on his own hips now, teasing smile on his face.

“Yeah. I should,” Steve thanked him, apologized for any misleading, which was immediately brushed off. Paul was here to dance, he didn’t much care for who he was dancing with.

“Send that beauty over here. She looks like she needs some lessons,” Paul pointed to Robin, who was still looking a little nervous despite the friendly bartender handing her sodas every time he passed by her.

“She’s gay, man.”

“So am I! Doesn’t mean we can’t dance!”

Steve laughed. “You’re right.”

He walked over to Robin quickly, avoided getting pulled back into the crowd.

“I’m in love with Eddie.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I know, dingus. You literally risked your entire reputation to come to a queer bar to try to impress him.”

Steve balked. “That’s not what this was!”

“Uh huh. Well he’s sulking in the bathroom if you wanna go tell him.”

“Sulking? Why?”

“He saw you dancing with that guy. Think he assumed you were interested in him.”

“Not a chance. I prefer long hair and ripped jeans,” Steve winked. He turned to walk towards the hall with the bathrooms when Robin stopped him.

“Don’t do this if you’re not 100% sure,” she said seriously. “Eddie really likes you and it would destroy him if you were lying to make him feel better.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve started, but stopped when Robin gave him a look.

“You’ve literally been pretending to be queer for the last two months because he came out to you and you accidentally came out to him. You’re lucky it wasn’t a complete lie.”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t fuck with his feelings like that.” Steve knew what it was like to be led on. He wouldn’t do that to Eddie. “I’ll be careful with him.”

“And be careful with you.”

He saluted her as he walked away.

When he found Eddie sitting on the counter at the sink in the bathroom, he was swinging his legs back and forth and humming something distinctly less pop than what was playing on the dance floor. No one else was in here, but that didn’t mean no one would walk in.

He walked over to Eddie and placed a hand on his knee.

Eddie immediately stopped kicking his feet and looked up.

“What’s with the face?” Steve asked, reaching up to touch the line between his brows that always appeared when he was pouting.

Eddie shrugged. “Just not feeling it tonight I guess.”

“The music isn’t really your thing. Kinda surprised you like this place,” Steve said as his hand drifted down to his wrist. “Seems closer to a small club than a bar.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

Eddie’s tone was sharp, laced with jealousy. Even if Steve hadn’t had his realization five minutes earlier, he would’ve seen what that was from a mile away.

“I was until I realized I’d rather be out there with you.”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t really dance.”

“But you’d dance with me if I asked, right?” Steve’s fingers circled his wrist and he tugged Eddie off the counter. “Even if I asked you to do it right here with no music?”

“Steve, what are you doing?”

“Dancing. Or trying to.” Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s hips and started swaying them in sync with his. “It is hard without music.”

“Why don’t you go back out there?” Eddie’s hands went around Steve’s neck.

“Because you’re not out there. I don’t wanna be where you aren’t.”

“Steve-“

“You know I didn’t actually know I liked guys until tonight?” Steve huffed out a laugh. “Well, I really like this one guy. Not sure about others yet.”

Eddie was silent, but didn’t push Steve away.

“He was hiding in this bathroom though. I didn’t really think he’d join me out there, so I brought the dancing to him,” Steve winked.

“You like me? You? Like me?”

Steve nodded.

“And you just realized this?”

“Kinda.”

“In a queer bar?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s pretty gay, dude.”

Steve snorted and smacked Eddie’s chest. “That’s the point.”

Eddie moved in impossibly closer, no room for Jesus between their chests anymore. “So you lied when you came out to me?”

“I panicked! But it doesn’t actually count as a lie if I’ve seen the light.”

“Was it a rainbow light? Or the reflection of the disco ball in the glitter shorts Perry was wearing?” Eddie joked.

“Perry!” Steve smacked his own forehead. “He’s nice. Made me come tell you how I feel.”

“Oh. He did?” Eddie seemed shy for maybe the first time ever.

“Yeah. Said I should come dance with you if I’m in love with you.”

Steve hadn’t felt like this in a while, and hadn’t left his heart on his sleeve like this in even longer. As Eddie’s face went from shy to shocked to flustered, Steve thought about how long he’d been dancing around these feelings.

But no more dancing around them. Now it was time to dance with them.

“Can’t believe you just said you’re in love with me in the bathroom of a queer bar. Don’t even think they clean this place,” Eddie laughed, letting his forehead fall against Steve’s.

“I’ll tell you again outside.” Steve kissed his cheek. “And in the van.” His nose. “Your house, my house.” The corner of his mouth. “Everywhere.”

Eddie licked his lip, skipping over a soft kiss for a hungry one. It was hot, desperate, impatient. Everything Steve hadn’t known he needed.

Then again, he hadn’t even actually known he liked guys until tonight. Maybe he was just late to learn things about himself.

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.