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2btheanswertothequestion · 2 years ago

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(part 5 of November Paramedic; part 4 is here and the AO3 version is here.)

Liquid sound courses through Eddie's body. His fingers dance over Sweetheart's strings, hitting every note perfectly. Behind him, Gareth is going at the drums like a beast while Jeff and Marv have gravitated together, now playing back-to-back. In front of him, a wall of people is pogoing, restricted by The Behemoth's 'no moshing policy'. When he launches into the solo, their headbanging turns so vicious they're but a wild sea of hair with haphazard devil horns sticking up. Solo over, he grabs the mic to roar the outro lyrics.

The audience screams; Eddie's ears ring. His veins hold more adrenaline than blood and his life has never been better.

"Thank you! You've been glorious tonight!" He sweeps his sweat-soaked hair from his face and winks at a cluster of girls in the front row. "We're Corroded Coffin and you'll see us here again soon. For now, thank you and good night!"

On his way off the stage, he catches one of the girls' hand and drops a kiss on her palm. She beams, face pink, as her friends shriek.

It's not his favorite thing about performing. He likes playing on stage because of the release, because of the building nervosity that erupts with the music. He likes it because it's fun. But the electricity between him and the crowd? The charged looks of pure want from men and women alike?

It doesn't make it worse. He's not burdened by being desired.

They congratulate each other outside as they deposit their guitars and few pieces of personal equipment in Eddie's van. Gareth is especially bouncy, telling Eddie over and over how he was great, he was on fire, he was invincible. Eddie would've questioned the post-show hype if he hadn't immediately demanded they go back inside for drinks; if Gareth thinks he can flatter himself into a free round, he's correct.

After the fresh June night, the air inside The Behemoth is stiflingly hot. It plus the hum of the patrons leave a cloying buzz in the back of his head. He might only stay for the one round before going home. Possibly two if those front-row ladies decide to pay; they're eyeing him right now. Sure, they're not Eddie's type, but that's what the other guys are there for.

Except when the women approach, Gareth shuts them off by pulling Marv in between them and steering Eddie in the opposite direction. Pushing Eddie forward, seemingly uncaring if Jeff and Marv keep up, he goes on his tip toes and hops every other step to peer above the crowd.

"Are you looking for someone?" Eddie asks.

"Noo, I just thought I saw someone at the bar…"

"Yeah, that means you're looking for someone, dipshit. Who is it?"

"It's… Uh…" Gareth says inattentively, scanning the bar area.

A large hand clamps around Eddie's shoulder, turning him around. He promptly swallows his tongue.

"Dude, you were great!" Steve says, smiling so big it could sustain a small country with power for the winter.

His hair is fluffy tonight, lying in a soft swoop. He's wearing a charcoal Henley, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tufts of chest hair peeking out from between the undone buttons. And he's got glasses on. Fucking glasses. Thin wireframes, an elegant complement to his beautiful face and delicate contrast to his hunky everything else.

Eddie's reply is strangled nonsense that drowns in Gareth's shouted, "Hey! You made it!"

"Yeah, man! Thanks for the invite!" Steve says, extending his hand for a shake.

"Anytime, dude! S'great to see you," Gareth replies, slapping and grabbing Steve's hand in a perfectly executed man-shake. Like they're a pair of fucking frat bros.

But that isn't the important part. No, the important part here is the word 'invite'. Who, when, where, and above all what the fuck??

"We loved it!" Robin says from half behind Steve. Because of course she's also here, wearing a patterned blazer that should clash with her differently patterned button down, yet doesn't. She continues gushing about the performance as Steve nods along and the rest of the band interject their gratitude whenever she pauses for breath for longer than a second. Eddie is the only one who hasn't said a peep.

He needs to fucking peep.

"Glasses!"

His exclamation has the others turn and stare so fast their necks snap. He ignores Gareth's snicker, cheeks burning. One of these days he will run into Steve without acting like a fool, but not today.

"What?" Steve says, his already huge eyes magnified by the glass. Damn, his lashes are long and dark.

"Y-You got glasses. I didn't know that."

Steve's brows jump, as if he forgot he's wearing them. He briefly goes cross-eyed as he tries to look at the spectacles resting on his nose. Then he lets out a giggle that's so cute it hurts.

"Oh, yeah. I usually wear contacts, but they expired and the new ones haven't arrived yet." He scratches beneath his eye, pushing the glasses askew. "I'd just wear the expired ones, but…"

"No!" Robin snaps. "It's bad for your eyes!"

"Yeah."

"You need to take care of yourself!"

Steve levels her with an unimpressed look, cocked eyebrow and pursed, plush lips included. "That's rich coming from someone who stopped eating halfway through an Alfred Hitchcock marathon because she didn't want to pause Saboteur to go grocery shopping."

Robin puts a scandalized hand to her chest. "I'm a linguist, not a medic. I can do whatever I want."

"That's not-"

"Anyway!" She smiles at Eddie and the guys. "You rocked. We had a blast. Steve even danced."

"That wasn't dancing. I was keeping you from faceplanting when you tripped over your own feet."

"Steve, go buy us drinks," Robin says.

"Why me?"

"They brought the entertainment; we'll bring the refreshments. And I'm broke. So chop-chop!"

She claps twice an inch from his nose tip. Steve rolls his eyes, but obliges, striding off toward the bar. Robin emits a witchlike cackle at getting her way.

Eddie elbows Gareth in the ribs hard, gritting out, "You invited them, huh?"

Gareth grins impishly even as he rubs the most certainly bruising spot. However, Robin's villainous glee melts away; she frowns.

"Is that a problem?" she asks.

Shit.

"Oh, no, no!" he says.

"Never!" Gareth shouts.

"New faces in the audience is always a cause for celebration," Marv says.

"He just didn't expect to see you, is all." Jeff steps between Eddie and Robin, wearing a disarming smile. "Gareth didn't tell any of us we had special guests waiting, but it's great to have you here. I'm Jeff."

Robin hums and appraises them with suspicion, eyes lingering on Eddie. Then she smiles; it would've been pleasant if it wasn't so sharp.

"Let's grab a table," she says.

They pick one in the quieter part of the bar. The booths don't fit more than four people, five if you're determined, but they solve it by having Gareth perch on the adjacent window ledge and by Robin sitting on Steve's lap.

It's first when Robin asks for details about the band that Eddie realizes how golden the opportunity is. The previous times he's met Steve, he's been at a disadvantage. Injured, caught by surprise, distracted by tight jeans or sweat rolling down necks. And yeah, he was surprised today, too. And he won't claim that it's easy to focus whenever Steve reaches for his glass, exposed forearm flexing with the movement.

Nevertheless, this is Eddie's turf. This is his stage. Here, he is king. And he will hold court like his life depends on it.

He talks about the band. He talks about their influences, about guitars, about the lyrics he writes. Robin participates in the conversation by making connections to punk music, but Steve only listens, eyes darting between them all like it's a five-way ping pong match and his attention is the ball. But mostly, he's in Eddie's palm, staring like only he has the answers. Fuck, like he is the answer.

It's enough to give a guy a god complex. The person who was created to be looked at is now looking at him.

It makes him bolder. Makes him touch Steve more, touch him longer. Close the distance between them when he speaks and zeros in on Steve's lips when he replies. And Steve… responds? He thinks? It's difficult to tell, because Steve's reciprocal touches are restricted by the lapful of Robin, and he seems to have a habit of looking at everyone's mouth when they talk. The boys appear optimistic, though, sending him encouraging signals from across the table and the window. He'll just have to use it as fuel and keep on trucking.

Somewhere along the way they move on to D&D. Steve remains enrapt by Eddie's every word, hanging on to the golden threads he spins. His only actual contribution comes at the end, asking if their game has space for one more. Eddie’s pulse jumps in his throat.

"Methinks we do." He leans back, exposing his neck, while giving Steve his best bedroom eyes from above the rim of his glass. "Why, you interested?"

"Not me," Steve says; Eddie barely has the willpower to smack his head against the table with disappointment. "But Lucas plays. Or he used to. His… what's the term? His group?"

"Party," Jeff says.

"Party. They're scattered all over the world now. I think he misses it."

"He hasn't said anything about it, but…" Robin trails off. Steve jostles her.

"You never talk about band, but you miss the trumpet like hell, don't you?"

"Ugh, I dooooooo!" she says, kicking her legs.

"We can bring him aboard and see how he fits," Eddie says. "If he so wishes."

Steve smiles like Eddie just promised Lucas a kidney. "Thanks."

Eddie gulps a large mouthful of beer to wet his drying mouth. "Anything for you."

They leave soon after that for food. Gareth especially needs it, starting to become tipsy on his stomach of nothing but beer. Although, outside, it becomes clear he passed 'tipsy' a while back when he climbs onto Jeff's back and yells, "Race!"

Jeff laughs as he hikes Gareth farther up. Robin glances at Steve, then spins away and mounts Marv's back instead.

"I promise I'm lighter than I look," she says.

"You look as light as your namesake," Marv says; she gently smacks his shoulder.

"Don't flatter me; I'm immune."

Gareth, holding Jeff’s hoodie like it's a horse's reins, points to the 7-Eleven sign glowing faintly in the distance. "Onward!"

Marv whinnies realistically enough for Robin to guffaw, and then they're off, their shoes clomping against the pavement and they howling with laughter. Still by the bar, Eddie and Steve share a giggle before following suit at a slower pace.

"Ah, youngsters," Eddie says dreamily.

Steve knocks their shoulders together. "You're not that much older."

"Well… Gareth's turning 21 and I'm 25, so a bit?"

"I'm also the oldest in my friend group." Steve shrugs. "It happens."

Gravel crunch beneath their soles. The air is cool and the sky is yellow with light pollution. Indianapolis is alive and full of noise, but their bubble has space for only them to walk side by side, close enough to touch but not doing so. They have an approximate ten-minute walk until they reach the convenience store. Unless the others return to them, that's ten minutes alone.

Eddie must use them wisely.

"So… how long have you been a paramedic?"

"Oh, um." Steve scratches his neck. "It's been almost four years. I'd actually been certified for less than a year when I got asked to be in that calendar. Not even a year in and I'm supposed to represent paramedics as a whole." He chuckles, mumbling, "That was fun."

"Did you make anything from it?"

"No. Every cent went to charity. Can't remember the name of it, but they provide vaccines to children in developing countries. Measles, polio, hepatitis, tetanus. That sort of stuff."

"Is this your childhood dream then?"

"Nah. I didn't want to be anything when I was a kid. When teachers asked what we wanted to be when we grew up I just said I wanted to be like my dad. He's the CEO of a huge electronics company. Mom is a socialite and philanthropist. They wanted me to inherit the company, but I…" Steve pulls a sigh from deep in his chest, throwing his head back to watch the starless sky. "I was a meathead jock. More interested in being keg king than keeping up my grades. Only reason I graduated on time was Nancy – we used to date. She's a study-beast. Makes great flashcards. Anyway, there's no way I'd ever get into a university good enough for my parents. I wasn't interested in the business degree dad wanted for me; I didn't even bother applying for college. It felt like a waste of time."

Eddie whistles, drawn out and low. "Bet they were thrilled when they found out."

Steve laughs humorlessly. "Yeah. Dad forced me to work this shitty retail job because of it." He halts, drawing himself up and pulling his mouth down. Giving Eddie the most disdainful look he's received, he says in a voice too pompous to be his own, "'If you don't follow the path to the top I laid out for you you'll end up here, at the bottom'." He rolls his eyes, himself again. "That's what he was saying. It backfired on him, because that's where I met Robin. Spent six months on that job, being a fucking aimless disappointment, and then…"

"Then?" Eddie asks, and now it's him desperately grasping at the thread. He needs to know. Anything Steve is willing to give, Eddie will accept.

Steve chews the inside of his cheek. Head hanging, hair falling into his face and glasses sliding down his nose, he resembles a model from an art student's angst-ridden project. Or maybe a movie star in an independent art house film. He just looks like art, okay? Beautiful and out of reach, which only makes you want to touch him more.

"It's kinda private," he says. "For Robin, I mean. The point is it opened my eyes to emergency services. I knew that was something I'd like to do. With some encouragement from her… I did it." He smiles at Eddie like they're sharing secrets. "Turns out studying is more fun when you're interested in the curriculum. My parents disowned me, but it's worth it. I'm as far away from being him as I can come."

He slows his steps then, face sobering before he barks a shocked laugh. The apples of his cheeks are pink.

"Fuck, that just flew out! I'm not usually like this; it's Robin who can't put a cork in it." He laughs again, softer, and levels Eddie with a gaze that borders on adoring. "You're easy to talk to."

Eddie nods. His lungs are burning, he must gasp for breath before speaking. "It's a finely honed skill…"

He swallows, licking his lips. Anything Steve is willing to give, he wants to give back. To take and give. To know and to be known.

He chokes out, "I almost turned into my dad."

"Yeah?" Steve says casually, unaware of the knife Eddie just plunged into his own chest and cut himself open with. "What's he?"

"Prison."

"What?"

Eddie nods breezily. He puts his trembling hands into his jacket pockets. "Petty stuff, but it stacks up. He taught me a few things, though, so if you ever need to hotwire your car or pick a lock… I'm your guy!"

He pulls out his hands to point at himself with both thumbs before shoving them back in. His voice is shriller, and his body's getting the jitters. Can't be still, can't shut up, and now Steve is eyeing him with… sadness? Not disgust, at least, or mistrust.

"But you're a mechanic now, right?" Steve says.

"Yeah. Learned it from my uncle – he took me in after the ol' sperm donor got caught. Greatest man I know, my uncle. I was a crap student," Eddie says, because why not. What's this after divulging about his dad? Nothing! Might as well disclose his aptitude for crime and philistinism. "Completely aimless. Still am. Redid senior year twice."

"Shit."

Grimacing with empathy, Steve sidles up until their elbows brush. A smidgen of tension leaves Eddie as he leans into Steve's warmth.

"Uh-huh. My peers started looking at colleges and all I thought was 'death before higher education!' So, I used my savings to move to Indy and got a job at a garage. It's not what I strictly want, but it pays the bills. Keeps me housed."

"What do you want?" Steve asks, like he wants to know and not just to be polite.

Eddie balloons his cheeks and puffs out the air. "I don't know. I'm passionate about music, but mostly as a hobby. Doing it professionally seems like it sucks. It's all I got, though. That and D&D."

"That's okay." Steve throws an arm around Eddie, and then they're flush. Ribs to ribs. Not an inch separating them. Close enough for Steve's skin to vibrate with Eddie's heartbeat. "You have time to figure it out. And being a mechanic in the meantime is great."

"It-It's not as meaningful as saving lives…" Eddie says, shaking his hair forth so it curtains his face.

Steve hooks the curls around his finger and tucks them back behind Eddie's ear. Holy shit. If Eddie hadn't been clinging to Steve, his jelly-legs would've collapsed and made him eat asphalt.

Steve's gorgeous grin still sends him stumbling a step.

"Sure it is. I bet you've saved someone." Steve leans in, breath ghosting across Eddie's cheekbone as he murmurs, "You'd save me. I know how to change tires and check the oil, but if it's something else? I'm screwed."

Eddie turns his head; their noses nearly bump. Steve's gaze flicks from his eyes to his mouth, indecisive. It chooses his mouth when he pokes his tongue out and drags it over his lips.

"Don't worry, big boy," he says, voice gravelly from use and their proximity. "If you're ever in trouble, just come to me and I'll take care of your engine."

Steve's breath hitches; he flinches back. For a moment Eddie's sure he went too far. But then Steve giggles like a schoolgirl. He ducks his head, face flaming red.

"Cool," he says weakly. "If you ever… heh, I was going to say 'if you ever need the kiss of life, come to me', but… don't." He's leveled himself with Eddie again and is looking at him sternly, though the effect is somewhat ruined by the humor glittering behind his glasses. "Don't ever get fatally injured. Okay?"

Eddie runs a hand down Steve's back, feels him shiver, and looks at him from beneath his lashes. "I make no promises."

A minute later they're caught up with their friends, who are very kind not to comment on how they're plastered to each other.

They buy their food – subs, nachos, chips, cookies, and juice, Steve paying for Robin's after she begs – and wander back to the parking lot by the bar. As a group, so no more clingy cuddling. Just as well, because Eddie's hot enough to erupt if touched again.

Steve didn't get the memo, though, because when they're saying goodnight and about to climb into their respective cars, he pulls Eddie into a hug. A real hug. Two-armed, chest-to-chest, sniffing-the-other-person's-hair kind of hug.

"S'been fun tonight," he says, squeezing Eddie tightly. "This is gonna sound sappy, but I'm glad we ran into each other again."

Ran into each other again.

Ran into each other.

It's a barrel of ice water over Eddie's head. His whole body constricts, shoulders hiking to his ears, jaw clenching. Because they've never actually done that, have they? They ran into each other once, but never again. Every single one of their meetings since has been orchestrated. Made to happen to satisfy Eddie’s obsessive crush. And Steve has no idea.

He doesn't know Eddie is a capital-letters-only FREAK. He doesn't know Eddie gets his rocks off to charity calendars. Fuck, he doesn't know about the calendar.

He has to know. If there's anything Eddie has learned from his millions of failed relationships, it's that there are things you have to know, and this is one of them. Because what'll happen if Steve finds out years from now from someone who isn't Eddie? A shit show, that's what!

Eddie wants for it to be a 'years from now'. He wants to feel Steve's hugs and see his eyes behind thin wire glasses. He wants to smell Steve's shampoo and hear his voice go soft as it says the names of the people he loves.

He wants to take and to give. To know and be known.

Steve has to know.

But how will Eddie tell him?

------------------------------

Part 6

Steve's glasses are a result of @pemsha's lovely fanart. If you haven't seen it yet you can do so here.

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lenore1232, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @theysherobinbuckley, @freddykicksasses, @winterbuckwild, @sideblogofthcentury, @subparbrainfunction

#gareth said 'max tricked eddie into going on a date with steve so I'LL trick him into an even date-ier date' and that's so valid of him #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #robin buckley #stobin #my writing #steddie fic: november paramedic

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