#pearynice

[hitlikehammers]

forgive me if I jump✨

steddie post-s4 established relationship ♥️

~ for @pearynice 💕🎂

He shoots up at the sound of the flatline; the screaming follows him as he wakes. By the time Steve’s hand shoots out to the other side of the bed, his pulse is already in his throat—it doesn’t get any calmer for finding it empty, sheets cold under his clammy palm but at the same time: it doesn’t get any worse. ~~~ OR: nightmares. trauma. fear. and LOVE being bigger than all of it. 💕♥️💕

🎶 title and concept inspired by this context-less post from Noah Kahan

(which ultimately became this, for reference, which is not so much aligned in terms of inspiration 🫠)

He shoots up at the sound of the flatline; the screaming follows him as he wakes.

By the time Steve’s hand shoots out to the other side of the bed, his pulse is already in his throat—it doesn’t get any calmer for finding it empty, sheets cold under his clammy palm but at the same time: it doesn’t get any worse.

Because it’s gotten less common with time. But to call it uncommon would be wishful thinking. Dishonest.

And there are so many things Steve’s learned in this relationship—not least how nothing that came before it could ever compare, really; or maybe couldn’t really have been called a relationship at all, more than varyingly convenient ways not to be alone—but one of those many things Steve’s learned?

Honesty.

Just…painful, terrifying, vulnerable fucking truthful, ripped out from the center of his fucking chest honesty. Nothing less. And sure, it’s usually messy.

But every single time, it’s more than worth it.

So: finding the other side of the bed empty and cold isn’t as routine anymore, which is progress. But it isn’t unheard of.

So Steve doesn’t wait for his pulse to settle before he swings himself out of bed to go find the warmth that’s missing at his side.

He hangs onto the railing on his way down the stairs, still shaking off the daze of the particular horror that’d visited his dream tonight, and uses the dig of his nails around the grip to coax himself to waking, to shaking the stupor off a little quicker; to focusing on the mission he needs to complete for the sake of his own heart in more ways than one: to find his boyfriend, the better, far-more-precious half of every part of him, and try to fix what he can of what drove Eddie from their bed, and comfort what can’t be fixed straight-out.

But in the same turn: Steve needs to find his boyfriend so that his own heart can stall how it’s trying to tear out of his skin for the way it’s still slamming against his ribs, through his veins. Steve needs to find him, and soak in every form of proof that he’s there, he’s safe, he’s breathing, he’s not dea—

Yeah. Steve needs to find his boyfriend.

And whether or not said boyfriend has escaped to his now-typical refuge: Steve’ll be better served to meet him wherever he is, the more awake that he is when he gets there.

He stuffs bare feet into the first shoes he finds—they don’t fit quite right, meaning they’re Eddie’s, but they’re close enough. They’ll do.

He grabs his keys from the table, plus his jacket because it’s the middle of the fucking night—doesn’t even have to consciously check in the dark to know Eddie’s is next to his own, because of course Eddie didn’t get his fucking coat, so he grabs that too and takes the garage-side door over the front, slings Eddie’s coat over his shoulder, and it’s autopilot that gets him in his car, just to back out and swing it at an angle, front wheels on the grass so the headlights will help him out—maybe he’ll have to jump the battery from Eddie’s van in the morning but that’s so fucking secondary; almost doesn’t register at all.

It does register just a little that his parents would kill him, to know he’d driven on the grass but, like: that only registers a sense of twisted satisfaction, and whole-bodied resolve: fuck his parents, he’d do, and has done, things far more drastic for the sake of the man he loves.

He climbs out again in seconds, ties Eddie’s coat around his waist in hopes it’ll hold more securely on the way up, and makes damn sure the ladder he heaves from where it’s propped along the wall inside the garage sits even and stands locked on the surface of the driveway before he climbs to the edge of fucking annoying-ass slant of the roof where it hangs closest to the ground, so he can climb up and around to the peak, lift up to the top, and swing into the tiny little hideaway Eddie’s made of the overhang outside their bedroom.

Climbing up here to find Eddie has definitely given Steve a whole new set of reasons to hate this fucking house, and its goddamn torture maze of a layout; he cannot wait until they save enough for their own place. They both agreed not to touch Steve’s trust from his grandad if they could help it outside an emergency, not yet, but…Steve’s beginning to think they should revisit that decision. They were gonna save and stay until Erica was graduated and gone, the last of them safe and out, but.

Maybe somewhere new, somewhere far enough—

He gets close enough for Eddie to startle—fuck, he must be out of it, stuck in his head so far to have missed Steve’s anything-but-silent ascent, especially across the shingles—and oh.

Oh, his Eddie.

Steve doesn’t know if distance, more time, or anything in this world at all they haven’t tried as yet can help—but meeting Eddie’s frantic gaze, catching the way his chest’s still heaving but nearly silent, too quiet for Steve to have caught before; that split second where Eddie is raw and hurting, eyes sunken and lips gnawed bright: Steve’ll plan later.

For now he closes the distance as quickly as Eddie does in kind, once he unfreezes, blinks back to the moment, what’s real: arms reaching, needing while Steve pulls him close and covers every trembling inch of Eddie he can reach with touch, with warmth, stroking his hair, breathing deep and even, murmuring low as he presses Eddie tight to his chest because he’s learned that Eddie’s nightmares come in a lot of varieties, but the ones that drive him up here? Away from their bed?

They’re the ones where he loses Steve, one way or another, and staying next to Steve feels unreal, still, for the way they claw and take gold that hard—they’re working on that, though.

But while it’s never been said out loud: in the wake of living that loss, even if only in his mind, Eddie gravitates toward proof of life, tangible ways to drive out the lies his sleeping mind concocts; it unlocks the tension in him with somewhere safe to fall apart—Steve’s arms.

Somewhere safe to unravel into: the rise-and-fall of Steve’s chest.

“Another one?” Steve eventually mouths at the shell of the ear he’s curled down to press lips along, gentle, rhythmic: real.

Eddie nods, as if he needs to, and presses tighter into Steve’s chest in the way that makes Steve aware keenly of his own pulse, the pressure on his lungs: by rights it shouldn’t be so steadying, so comforting, in the way that it is.

But it is, and he feels Eddie loosen, melt into him, and take what feels like a genuine breath in for the first time in far too long, straight between Steve’s collarbones before he stills.

Usually that’s how it goes. He stills, and he soaks in all the little proof points of Steve’s living, working, real body there against him, until he can let go of whatever haunted his dreams.

Or else: let go enough.

But then he’s tensing, and Steve frowns, already concerned, already preparing to catch and to soothe as Eddie tips his head up and pins red-rimmed eyes so wide on Steve, his cheeks the slightest bit shiny for tears Steve’s shirt must by soaked in, but he hadn’t noticed. That was the least important thing to pay attention to.

“You too?” Eddie asks, hoarse and devastated and Steve doesn’t get it at first, just then Eddie’s hand replaces his cheek on Steve’s chest, the pressure making a point of what’s racing underneath still, giving him away and—

Oh. Well.

Yeah.

This isn’t about Steve though, so he just strokes the pale-pink line at the corner of Eddie’s lips—he doesn’t mean to go all the way down to cup a hand around the side of his neck.

He often forgets that sometimes muscle memory doesn’t just leave when it’s not necessarily needed anymore—sometimes it lingers.

Sometimes it makes a hand on his boyfriend’s neck in affection land so that fingertips can count his pulse, because there was a time, there was a time and it—

“The hospital,” Eddie gasps, knows that’s one of the worst—knows wherever it starts it always ends with when Eleven told them the only way to get Henry’s hold out of Eddie for good, make sure that Eddie didn’t go down with the rest of it, was to let him crash then bring him back—and it’d killed Steve, it’d broken him in ways that weren’t just still tender, but that still hadn’t fully closed and maybe never would but Eddie knows that—

Which is how they end up sitting up, leaning back, Eddie’s hands now framing Steve’s face and drawing in for a slow, soft, but incalculably deepkiss that does help calm Steve’s heart: it’s not aimed to go anywhere, and lead to anything. It’s pure affection and care, and it doesn’t soften his pulse, or even slow it really, but it’s not…it’s more.

Like that love and care are flowing in when the valves open and working to convince him down to his cells that the things he fears—and did fear, in person, lived through and fell apart for—aren’t true, here. Didn’t end in the way that would have killed him, too.

“Fuck, Stevie, and I wasn’t there, I’m sorry,” and Steve’s drawn upward in the process of being pulled to lie on top of Eddie, roles reversing as he gets wrapped tight in Eddie’s arms and tucked beneath his chin where Steve’s pretty sure it’s on purpose that he’s crushed against to that wild pulse at its berth, and yeah.

Yeah, Steve breathes a little easier for it. Just…knowing this way. He always does, after that specific memory fuels his nightmares.

He thinks it says a great deal, that neither of them has to speak the need for this kind of comfort, this kind of reassurance. Steve knows it’s sings in his own veins like he’s never felt before, with anyone else, to not only be seen, but to be known for the whole of it. The whole of him.

He lets himself have a few more seconds, more than a few more heartbeats under his ear because Eddie’s still reeling for whatever drove him up here—but Steve lets the sounds of Eddie’s lungs filling up ground him before he wraps his arms around Eddie’s middle now and sits up, pulls Eddie with him.

“Don’t ever be sorry,” Steve kisses the crest of his cheekbone before he asks, so careful, so gentle, and only because the more he knows the better he can help, they’ve learned this.

But the honesty—as he knows just as well by now—sometimes has to hurt in the process.

“Which one drove you up here?”

Eddie shakes his head—not ready yet, and that’s fine, that’s so okay—and he moves to lean, to burrow in Steve’s neck and that’s okay, too, but his eyes catch on the dim headlight-glow against the tarp over the pool and Steve doesn’t even have to be this close to catch the flinch that follows so he asks soft, and only as he guides Eddie into his chest at the same time:

“The car?”

There’ve been more than a couple rough nights caused by contortions involving Steve’s car; Steve can’t know for sure which got center stage tonight, or if it was a new horror show altogether: just knows his chest burns for how Eddie trembles against him—still.

Eddie nods against his neck, though, doesn’t try to fight or deny at all and Steve leans to press his lips to the top of his head when Eddie speaks only—unwaveringly—against the place where Steve pulse beats at the line of his throat:

“Leaving.”

And Steve knows how he means it, and if anything could kill him more than knowing there’s space in Eddie’s head for the absurdity of such a thing—that Steve ever could, ever would even think about leaving him, what they have, what they are working together so hard to make for keeps in a forever kind of way—

The only thing that might have the capacity to kill him more is how that space in Eddie’s head doesn’t fade as quick as a dream, and follows him here. To this.

“But then, you were gone but then there was a,” Eddie hiccups a little—Steve can’t feel if there are tears but it doesn’t matter; there’s clearly heartbreak and that’s bad enough; “an accident, a bad accident, you…”

“Are right here, babe,” Steve takes hold of him and leans back like Eddie did before for him, tucks Eddie tighter up against his own heartbeat which is still heavy but calmer, now, so he whispers fierce as he buries his face in Eddie’s hair:

“I’m right here.”

And Steve holds him there; only moves to pull his unzipped coat up and around them both, to make a cocoon of what it means to live and breathe and feel this much, still, after being been hurt enough to easily have snuffed it all to ash.

It’s Eddie’s turn to need that proof of life: undeniable.

“We didn’t even fight,” Eddie mouths more than anything to Steve’s skin where his chin’s dragged down the collar of his shirt; “you just,” his voice breaks again, and Steve’s arms tighten further by default; “couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t handle…”

He breathes shaky, and shakes his head kinda nonsensically against Steve’s chest, only slightly, never sacrificing where his cheek lies and his ear holds to hear, to listen, and Steve cradles the back of Eddie’s head closer to him, breathes steady and slow as best he can just to try and give Eddie somewhere to grasp at, a foothold to stand on. Anything.

Everything.

“I’m so scared, Steve,” Eddie finally halfway-sobs, so lost and desperate, and clinging so hard onto Steve that it’s tight in Steve’s throat, in Steve’s chest, too. “Yeah, it’s gotten better, but I’m still so fucking scared.”

And Steve gets it. Steve understands. Steve’s not immune to it himself in the slightest.

He still hates it exponentially more for how it hurts Eddie.

“It’s bad enough that that, that place still haunts me, haunts us both when its fucking burned to dust, when there’s nothing, we couldn’t even getthere, fuck, fuck, for all intents it doesn’t even existanymore,” and Eddie sounds bitter for it, which Steve understands well enough; he hates that they gave so much, and ultimately won the war, but that the war didn’t end with the victory. That it claws at them like this. That it hurts Eddie so much, for how soft and big his heart truly is—Steve would have him no other way.

But Steve would give anything to take that hurt from under those ribs and into himself, just to spare him.

“Jesus,” Eddie’s inhale catches, and he shakes more than he was—Steve pulls the coat around them closer, though he’s not sure he actually can, but fuck if he’s not gonna try, just in case any part of it’s something he can help fight back.

“But then I have to dream, still, of losing you to the simplest bullshit, these, these normal fucking tragedies anyway, after everything we survived,” Eddie’s voice pitches louder, but stretches thin to breaking; “or straight up losing you because of mybullshit—”

And that, that’s also not new, so neither of them can possibly claim it’s a surprise how Steve hauls Eddie up and stops the words, the simple suggestion with the press of his mouth because: no.

Steve will spend the rest of his life proving it—he’s not immune himself, knows he needs it too, sometimes—but if kissing the nonsense quiet, smothering the sheer pain that the very thought lances through him, twists in his ribs with how much Steve feels the very opposite?

So fucking be it.

“I’m afraid that there’s still stuff you don��t know, even now, not yet,” Eddie whispers between them finally, a little wet on the last syllable in a way that wrings Steve’s heart, and once upon a time Steve would have said that in itself was just so very not-Eddie.

But Steve knows better, now. Knows Eddie better, now, and knows this part of him that’s rarely been trusted to the world at all and while Steve hates with everything in him that it has to exist at all, he’s so goddamn grateful, fucking honored to be trusted; to have proven himself good enough to merit it: to hold the privilege in the palm of his hands to try and keep it safe, and make it better where he can, always.

His Eddie: through and through.

“And then when you find out you’ll know, you’ll realize it was all a fucking waste, on me—“

And that: that’s more nonsense. So Steve’s mouth knows automatically where to go.

Because Steve’s in this forever. Steve’s in this for always. He’s thought himself a romantic from the first suggestion of the idea and yet he had no goddamn clue until he bumped shoulders with a pretty fucking nerd in a hellscape and felt butterflies; until he hauled a body everyone else screamed at him to leave, they couldn’t risk slowing down but they couldn’t understand what Steve already knew:

If the body weren’t a person, living and breathing and already winding tight through Steve’s heart, Steve would be dead, too. He knew that without a fucking doubt, even then.

And so now it’s only grown—the feeling and the certainty and the impossibility of ever letting go—and Steve’s learned well these past months how to say that, maybe best, in the way he kisses deeper than he used to know how, to feel it deeper than he knew anyone could—more likely than not only possible, really, because it’s Eddie.

And what he has with Eddie is something he never knew to think of seeing in the world at all, let alone something he’d even get to touch for himself—and then, to keep?

Steve Harrington’s not going fucking anywhere, not for anything.

He keeps his lips locked to Eddie’s until just past the point where they’re breathless and it could be terrifying—but Eddie chases it even as Steve eases them away, panting and gripping at each other as their chests knock, eyes blown in the dark to see everything.

And so he sees Eddie trembling—which yeah, he has been since Steve found him, Steve’s felt in it holding the man in his arms, and they’re both still levelling for the sake of needing air—but it’s not just the kiss. It’s not just a tightness Steve put there for pushing the way their tongues were trying to coax each other’s soul out whole.

So Steve leans to suck at the visible beat under Eddie’s jaw for a second before he tucks Eddie back in against him and lets him blanket across Steve’s chest, stretches so he can better nestle the base of Steve’s throat.

“Never,” Steve speaks it low, not least so that Eddie feels it rumble where he rests his head, like it could shake straight into that rapid fire brain of his; “I would never. I could never,” he hums; Eddie’s breath catches just short of a whine:

“It’s not possible.”

Doesn’t matter how long they’ve been this, together: Steve cannot imagine his life without Eddie. It’s not even just that he doesn’t want to; it’s that he can’t remember why it would be worth it, now that he knows what his life was built for: this.

Them.

Finally, after beat-after-beat-after-beat of just their gasping coming down, his breath so so fast, and voice so so fragile, Eddie tries to be, what’s the word Rob’s always throwing at him?

Contrary.

(He thinks that’s it.)

“But you—”

This time Steve doesn’t still Eddie’s lips with his own, not for lack of wanting, but definitely for the recognition that there are things that need saying, much as Steve used to chafe at too many words in a row: he’s learned that too, with Eddie. And he’s so fucking grateful for it; the life they’ve had to live, as much as the life they’re lucky enough to live now—all of it kinda needs the words.

“I’m not some defenseless maiden in one of your campaigns,” Steve tells him in the simplest, surest terms he knows; “I know you, you let me know you,” and he kisses the bow of Eddie’s lips at the top before he noses against the line of his jaw:

“And whatever bits and pieces that maybe haven’t seen the light yet,” he kisses the point of that jaw and goes further, mirrors Eddie again to kiss a ring around the blood beating still so fucking fast at his neck:

“I’m so ready to know them, and hold them close when they’re the scared parts, and square up when they’re the demons and fight them with you, and just,” and Steve finally just kisses that beating heart, when it pounds into the purse of his waiting lips like a gift all its own before he straightens enough to meet Eddie’s eyes:

“I signed on for all of you,” Steve brushes Eddie’s hair behind one ear, delicate and adoring as he’s flooded with how true the words are in his own chest: “because all of you, is what I fell for.”

“You can’t fall for what you don’t know is there—“ Eddie tries to protest, though it’s weak.

The fact that it’s there at all, though, isn’t something Steve was ever going to allow to stand.

“When did you know you loved D&D?”

Eddie blinks; frowns.

“What?”

Steve tilts his head, raises a brow: waits.

Eddie lets out a slow breath and answers, kinda hesitant—uncomprehending, but honest:

“First time I read more than a page of The Player’s Handbook at a flea market.”

Steve can picture it, the innocence; the wonder—how little has really changed, not at the heart of him.

“So you didn’t know everything yet, right?” Steve presses on. “But you still knew?”

And it’s in the inflection, the way he says that last word that Eddie gets it—it’s what Steve has wanted to get picked up and seen—and Eddie tries to sigh, to shake his head:

“Steve—“

“And you still feel the same, maybe more, now?”

“Steve, that’s just a fucking game. You, you’re,” and Steve would like to dwell on Eddie calling it just a game, not least to preen a little that it’s done to elevate his own significance in Eddie’s affections, but it’s not the time, and the tone of Eddie’s voice is too fucking bleak:

“I’m so fucked up, Stevie,” and he sounds just…so forlorn, so resigned; “I’m still so fucked up,” and there Eddie shifts, moves just enough to reach Steve’s face, to stroke his cheek like he’s precious beyond measure, his eyes glowing in the wan light that the car’s still giving, glinting with a welling up of tears that pull at the linings of vital things inside Steve’s chest.

“You’re everything there is, Steve. You’re what makes breathing still feel worthwhile, after everything,” and it’s hard, because seeing Eddie this way is killing Steve by a thousand fucking strikes but then, he can’t complain for being loved like this, would never; not least when he feels the exact same to the fucking letter.

“I’m damaged fucking goods, just a goddamn losing bet,” Eddie’s shaking his head and Steve can’t pretend he’s never felt the same but he likewise can’t pretend he’ll stand for Eddie seeing himself in a way that just so…

Wrong.

So he darts a hand and laces his grasp with Eddie’s in that way that’s become innate as he leads Eddie palm to his own chest and presses hard, to the point of pain, and it feels so fucking right as he near-hisses, pledges like a vow:

“You’re my heart.”

Eddie stills, barely seems to blink, stares at their joined hands. Presses close to feel, even harder.

Only more right.

“Simple as that, man,” Steve’s words land like a shrug, a given. “You’re kinda…the beat that keeps me breathing.”

Steve doesn’t know if that’s corny, or weird to say: but he doesn’t really fucking care, because it’s the unvarnished truth and he stands by it. And he thinks he’s more than qualified to say it and mean it, have it mean something real, because, like—

“And I mean, you know what it’s like, at least a little,” Steve lifts Eddie’s hand, gets a tiny whimper for moving it but makes up for it by kissing his knuckles; he knows that Eddie knows what it feels like, with his parents, with this fucking town; what Steve’s about to say isn’t wholly lost on Eddie, just a different…flavor:

“But I’ve had that heart ripped out and stepped on,” Steve takes a breath—remembering doesn’t hurt like it used to, especially not with Eddie in his arms, but that’s doesn’t mean the sting’s all gone: “spat on for what I tried to give along with it.”

And this time Eddie’s the one whose hand twitches: fierce, held tight, almost protective.

It’s a reaction Steve’s never been on the receiving end of before, not like this. As if he’s worth it, and unquestionably so. He’s definitely gotten used to it, a little at least, but is still always a little surprised how warm it lands, spreading through him molten like gold.

“Hurt like fucking hell, y’know, and I think that was when I stopped believing I’d ever find someone who could put up with me,” Steve admits, not as if he’s tried at all to hide it, but more in that he doesn’t think he’s said it quite so plain, right out loud; “like, who’d want me even if you erased all the Upside Down fuckery,” and the molten feeling gets a little extra kick for the sound that escapes Eddie at that, close-on to a growl.

“But then the fuckery grew, and then there were Russians and it was like I was made up more of just how it fucked my head up, wrapped in a bunch of gnarly scar tissue, more that than anything else, and my love was still too much, so I mostly tried to hide it,” he lands on, and somewhere while he was speaking Eddie’s curled down to replace his hand with his head over Steve’s chest again, still protective. More so, maybe.

“So I was scared, too,” Steve admits, not ashamed now but actually kinda proud, maybe a little, because here he is, actually putting it in words:

“I was scared at the beginning. With you.”

Eddie finally looks up, then, meets Steve’s eyes with lips parted, hanging on each word but visibly working through a struggle to make it all sink in, add up the way Steve means it to.

That’s okay. Sometimes it is hard; doesn’t mean it’s bad, or wrong, or anything less than the best thing he knows; the only life he even wants, anymore.

“I hid,” Steve nods, swallows a little rough; “in my own way, I hid, too.” From embracing how his eye was caught more indiscriminately than most; from accepting that his heart was always going to swell quick and ready first, and it wasn’t a fucking crime, it just more often than not was gonna hurt; that Eddie Munson had been a puzzle he couldn’t understand at the peripherals of his world for a while already before they were thrust into the apocalypse.

That’d all probably been a good bulk of the reason for his little nugget speech in the RV, which still gives Eddie a good laugh now and again, so no matter how mortifying, he can’t even fully regret what the hiding made him do.

Until—

“But then we almost lost you, we did for those horrible handfuls of seconds, worst of my whole fucking life, when all I could see out of nowhere was the future, and it was made of you, and it was the piece of me getting spat on except it felt like allof me,” and it had, the experience never leaving Steve, not really, that hollow fire that’d destroyed him unrelenting; “all of me just getting ground into dust because I’d lost you before I could ever have you, and all I knew was that you were all that mattered and you were gone, so what even was the fucking point—“

Steve runs out of breath, and Eddie sits up, but Steve’s takes the in to flip their hands caught between them, takes Eddie’s from where his own pulse has picked up for he memories, and the feeling and pressed his palm to Eddie’s chest: the point.

He didn’t expect to need proof of the whole fucking point as badly as he does.

“Then you were back,” Steve’s sighs out relief and gratitude the same way every single time, Eddie’s heartbeat a balm as much as a fuel, a sacred sort of fire in his veins to keep going because the words are maybe never going to be easy, never going to come natural like they do for Eddie but: for Eddie, Steve will do just about anything.

With that as the starting point: this is child’s play.

“Then you were breathing again and I knew I couldn’t let being afraid be enough. It could live here, maybe will forever,” he brings his other hand back to his chest, where the terror simmers, and Eddie sees the opportunity to touch again and slides his fingers in tight to hold there, too; Steve can’t help but smile, and relish the little extra beat that the feeling nudges through his veins.

“It could live here forever,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand against his ribs; “ but never at the cost of you.” Then he pulls, presses his other hand in Eddie’s on top and gathers everything to the core of him as he pledges, vows exactly that deep:

“Never more important, here, than you.”

And Eddie’s breath catches, and he tips forward into Steve’s neck again—and Steve slips one hand free to hold him, to protect him from all sides, too.

And to hold him together, in case the rest of what Steve needs to say, needs him to hear, shakes through him too strong.

“You were like,” Steve licks his lips, shakes his head, holds Eddie a little closer, this time maybe more for his own sake, as he breathes out just against Eddie’s ear:

“I think maybe we both, in our own ways, are scared fucking shitless,” he huffs, because it’s not that simple but it’s exactly that simple; “and on the surface even, we deserve to be ‘til the day we die, if that’s what it shakes out as,” and Steve does believe that, Steve’s come to terms with it and yeah, he’s still working on not judging it so harsh but he is working on it. Robin pushes him.

Eddie…inspires him.

“I hope it doesn’t,” Steve admits softly, because part of him is scared of being a little scared forever; “but it’d be more than understandable. More than justified.”

So yeah, part of him is a little scared—but more of him?

More of him—

“But I think we’re more scared, and so much deeper with it,” Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s curls, buries his face a little in the mess of them to breathe him in:

“And in the deeper fear, that deeper place, I think it means that we,” he swallows, and is grateful that Eddie is held tight where he is just now, so that the words Steve says when words aren’t his strongest suit can be backed up by how fucking hard his heart’s beating again, because he feels this, he fucking means this:

“That we feel something so fucking big, this massive beautiful thing that could tear us apart as quick as it lifts us up and we want both, or either, or all, whatever it gives because we just,” Steve sucks in a breath, because honesty, honesty; “we need it, we—”

And Steve stops on a dime when he feels Eddie’s mouth press to the center of his chest even through their clothes, heady and potent; feels his lips move as he speaks, hoarse but not trembling, scratchy but sure:

“Loving is terrifying,” he says, and not at all like it’s a regret, more heavy like it’s a privilege with real goddamn weight as he slowly works his lips up Steve’s throat and the leans back just enough, onlyenough to meet his eyes:

“But I’ve never felt more alive than I do for every fucking bit of it, with you, because it’s you,” Eddie grabs the hand of Steve’s he’s not still holding square-on and laces their fingers, unshakable.

“Living at all hasn’t ever felt more right.”

And there’s something in those words, or maybe the way they’re said, that shakes Steve to his bones, tightens his hold on Eddie to the point of a blissful sort of pain.

“I jump when you grab your keys, when I hear them rattle,” Eddie whispers like a secret, like he’s not proud of what he’s saying but he can say it, because it’s Steve. “Sometimes even when you’re next to me, driving us both home, because home is the same for us both and most times I can latch on to that, and remind my body that we’re just going home,” Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes almost glow as he locks them onto Steve’s even more unbreakable, somehow:

“That you are my home.”

Steve’s heartbeat trips again for that, overfull, and Eddie’s hand clenches in his shirt so tight, still protecting.

“But sometimes,” Eddie closes his eyes, clenches his jaw before spilling out, voice suddenly so very small:

“Sometimes I’m scared you’re just dropping me off, and stopping in while you pack.”

And god, he…that’s what he…

“That’s why you were so,” and Steve doesn’t have to say on top of everything, he doesn’t have to say building on the obvious—he doesn’t have to.

“I went to the car.”

Eddie swallows hard; nods like it’s a battle. Yet he does it.

Steve’s so proud of this man. Steve’s honestly proud of the both them.

“Yeah,” Eddie grinds out, sandpapery and a little painful even just to hear but now it’s there, now they know.

And Steve can gather him close, press him in slow and arrange just so atop him as he lays back down, remembers he brought Eddie’s coat too as the real dead of night starts to settle in, so he shimmies it off his waist and doesn’t bother convincing Eddie’s arms to give up where they’re wrapped around Steve, he just tucks it in as a blanket around them over where his own jacket’s pulled as tight as it can go to keep them both, and then he sighs, exhausted but content and maybe they’ll climb down the ladder Steve had made sure was waiting; maybe they’ll swing straight into his room, the same as Steve’s sure Eddie made his way out in the first place. Maybe they’ll wake up to the sunrise right here, just like this.

Steve’s happy regardless of whichever he gets, because all of it happens together.

“Just for the lights, babe,” he breathes into Eddie’s curls, kisses them firm and holds until the sentiment, the single statement swells to keep the whole of what Steve means for the keys, the car, the idea that he’d ever go anywhere without Eddie that he’s not coming home from, and that his home is Eddie, too: always.

Always.

“Only the lights.”

♥️♥️♥️

✨also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here and here

[penny00dreadful]

Surprise! I drew another lil something 🥰 this time for @pearynice from her fic I Want To Hold Your Hand

This moment was burned into my brain ever since I first read it. I love this fic.

But Eddie’s walking a half step faster than him, Steve’s own tipsy legs unable to carry him as quickly. So he reaches, and hooks two of his fingers through Eddie’s belt loop.

Eddie starts, arms jerking, and Steve pulls him close, knocking them gently together. “You’re too fast.” Steve complains, softly, and the blush returns to Eddie’s cheeks at the words, his dimples, too, and Steve grins, the pop rocks in his chest fizzling at the sight.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer's spotlight feature is: @pearynice! With twenty-eight Stranger Things works, they've written twenty-seven fics tagged with Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson!

Nominated by @hotluncheddie, they recommend the following works by peachesandpears:

Talk to Me

Personally

Starched Collars

In your eyes

they are so lovely and so talented!! so many short and sweet pieces - that so often seem to touch and soft squishy part hidden away within me, put a little bandaid on it <3 - @hotluncheddie

Below the cut, @pearynice answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ve always loved the “opposites attract” trope. While Steddie is the first ship I’ve ever seriously written for, in the past this dynamic has always been my go to (ie: destiel lol) but Steddie specifically because I think Stranger Things is a great show with compelling characters, and that Eddie and Steve deserve a happy ending. And for me that happy ending will always have them with each other.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love AUs. Love seeing the little blorbos in as many situations as possible. I love being able to see how writers take what we know about these characters and make it into a whole new story. (But especially a soulmate AU. I loveeee a soulmate AU.)

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I think anyone who follows me can probably guess hurt/ comfort and fluff. I LOVE making these boys suffer and then smooch about it. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

AH okay I will scream about this fic until I’m blue in the face (I actually submitted an ask to this blog about it because I think it’s criminally under-viewed!) it’s As the World Falls Down by daeneryske on Ao3. I read this MONTHS ago and I still think about it all the time. It’s long but god I wish it would never end. I want to tattoo it on the inside of my eyelids.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Yes!! I can’t say much because it’s for my Reverse Big Bang but they both contain tropes I’ve never worked with before and I’m so so excited to be writing both of them!!! I’m already having so much fun! And a goal of mine for 2024 is to broaden my writing horizons a little and explore tropes and topics that I haven’t yet, so I don’t really have any specifically in mind but that is my general plan!

What is your writing process like?

Very chaotic. I almost never write an outline. It’s pure vibes baby. And when I DO write an outline I almost never follow it (whoopsie) I feel like as I write the plot comes to me, and outlines tend to pigeon hole me so I can’t get myself out of writing slumps.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Maybe my overuse of italics?  I also don’t really know how to describe it but sometimes when I’m writing heavy action scenes/ emotional scenes I’ll start and stop sentences before they’re complete sentences. Like: “Steve says nothing. Sits down next to his father and looks over his shoulder.” I don’t know if that’s a writing quirk or not lol but that tends to be how I structure my sentences.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely after I’ve finished. Once I’m on a deadline I psych myself out.

Which fic are you most proud of?

That’s such a hard one, because I think I’m proud of a lot of my fics but for very different reasons. I think if I had to choose, I’d pick Blood of the Covenant. It’s one of my more recent fics, and I had toyed around with a Wayne POV fic for such a long time before writing because I wanted to get it right. It was hard to find his voice but I think in the end I executed it well.  

How did you get the idea for Talk to Me?

Well besties I dunno how personal we want to get here, but the inspo for this fic (and tbh a lot of my hurt/ comfort fics) is just based on my own experiences. Growing up my mom did not have the capacity to tend to the thoughts and emotions of her kids, ergo me pushing that shit into a Steddie fic. Obviously what I wrote as Steve’s experience and mine are not directly parallel, but that is how I got the idea.

When writing Starched Collars, what was something you didn’t expect?

That was my first heavy hurt/comfort fic that I wrote, and I remember being really blown away that people could relate so heavily to Steve’s experiences. I remember I had some comments saying that they felt really comforted seeing their own experiences reflected within Steve, and I just never expected my writing to be able provide that for someone. 

What inspired Personally?

Well, again, we’re getting a little personal (babum tss)- but how I wrote Steve’s mom reacting to him mentioning the sunglasses is definitely how my own mom tends to react when I express any kind of negative emotion around her. In this case it was a lost parking stub instead of sunglasses.

What was your favorite part to write from Talk to Me?

The COMFORT- that’s always my favorite part. Making it better! (Although it is also a little fun leaving the angsty cliffhanger- but I will ALWAYS make my fics have a happy ending.) But also I’m a little in love with the idea I had that Eddie likes to rub on Steve’s stomach until he falls asleep. I thought that wrapped up the story very nicely.

How do/did you feel writing Personally?

It was honestly very therapeutic. I don’t think I’ve ever word-vomited out a fic more rapidly than I did for that one. I wrote that in my notes app in one afternoon, read through it once or twice, and posted. It was a relief to get all of that out in writing, and then even better to see that other people found comfort in what I had written. 

What was the most difficult part of writing Starched Collars?

When I was first drafting the fic I was going to have Starched Collars and In Your Eyes (the kinda sorta sequel) be one in the same. I spent a long time trying to balance the two narratives, before I realized it was just too much to fit into one fic. Having both detracted from the other’s story too much, and eventually I had it just focusing on Steve. I think this was the best move but I spent so long trying to strike that balance before I scrapped it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I don’t know if I can name any one scene or line as explicitly my favorite, but the final scene of Because it’s Steve it’s absolutely a favorite. That whole fic is very special to me because it reflects a lot of my own thoughts/feelings/experiences on being demi, and that final scene is just exactly how I experience my demisexuality. (I’m not sure how long this can be, but I’ll insert the passage here): 

And they’re still in this disgusting bathroom. There’s still a toilet behind Eddie’s knees, but when Steve’s mouth meets his, it doesn’t matter. Because one of Steve’s arms wraps around his middle, his fingers dip into the spaces between his ribs, their chests touch, and it all feels so good. Because it’s Steve. And it’s still Steve who kisses him, still Steve who licks into his mouth, still Steve who nearly sends them both stumbling into the disgusting toilet. And because it’s Steve it’s so funny that Eddie can’t stop laughing, and there’s a blush high on Steve’s cheeks as he tells Eddie to stop it. But then Steve kisses him again. Asks if he wants to go and find Robin and Nancy. If he wants to dance. With him. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

YES. So Because it’s Steve is now a series: Demi/Virgin!Eddie, with all of Eddie’s firsts with Steve. This is very smutty but it’s also like, the sappiest, most disgustingly fluffy smut I’ve ever written. I would say it’s “schmoopy” but I was outed as an Old Lady on Discord because apparently no one uses that word anymore. ALSO- and maybe this is still too far away BUT I am working on TWO Reverse Big Bang pieces and… you guys… my artists are so talented and kind and their brains are so big and so far I’ve gotten along with each of them so well and I am already so excited to post these and we’ve only just begun. I cannot wait until we can make our visions into an entire fic!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add? 

YES- whoever nominated me for this (I don’t know if that’s something they’ll tell me??) THANK YOU- this is so sweet. I feel so honored that someone thought of me as deserving of this. There are so, so many authors you could've chosen and you chose ME! That’s just- insane. Thank you.  And to anyone who has said they found my hurt/ comfort fics relatable in any way, I rain all of the platonic hugs/ forehead kisses/ handshakes/ high fives/ nods of the head upon you. ❤️✨

Thank you to our author, @pearynice, and our nominator, @hotluncheddie! See more of @pearynice's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[starryeyedjanai]

Hi!!! 2, 5, and 49 for the questions thingy??? 🤲✨

hiii! thanks for the ask💕💕💕

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

the first 5 are: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting (23), Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (16), Blow Jobs (14), Anal Sex (13), and Established Relationship (11) it's actually kind of hilarious that the sex act i tag the most is blow jobs considering in the past i have been wringing my hair out trying to write a bj scene

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

i can't really think of a specific question i'd want to be asked, so here are some fun facts about some of my fics: All things end and all things change. is the first fic i've written fully following an outline i made bad boys do it better started out as a different idea, but when i downloaded tinder to do research, i found a guy with a profile so great i had to change my fic idea my stomarol 5+1 that i'm currently posting had been like 90% done since the summer, but I could not figure out how to write the threesome scene until like two days ago catch the embers on my tongue is one of my favorite fics because it turned out almost exactly as i first imagined it

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

i have 7 fics in my "currently working on" folder in scrivener, which is less than it was last week since i finished a few things recently! i've got my RBB, my summer exchange fic, camboy alpha steve pt 3, my oc/steve fic chapter 2, a secret gift that i am soooo close to finishing, a microfic, and chapter 2 of the chronance vampire fic

here's a snippet from my summer exchange fic:

He wakes up with Eddie pressed against his back, his arm wrapped around his waist. He doesn't want to get up. He wants to stay here, wrapped up in this warmth, feeling relaxed and safe for the first time in a long while. But the alarm on the side table goes off a few minutes after he wakes up and Eddie groans. Steve can feel the moment he realizes how close they’re pressed together. He feels how Eddie freezes a little before slapping a hand out to turn the alarm off and then he detangles himself from Steve gently, like he’s hoping Steve is still somehow asleep. When Eddie's out of the bed, Steve rolls on his back and Eddie doesn't meet his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom.

ask me things!

[transvampireboyfriend]

did you write the steddie diner au where eddies actual name is theodore but they call him teddy??? its literally likr one of my favorite fics

I did not! but that sounds wonderful <3 if anyone has the link pls send it our way!

[paperbackribs]

✨Last Sentence Tag Game✨

thank you @pearynice 🥰

“That’s sad, Steve,” Eddie says more seriously, straightening up, “Just because your Aunt Margaret nearly drowned when she went face down in potato mash doesn’t mean that Christmas isn’t a time of delight.”

✨tags!✨ (as always, no pressure)

@finntheehumaneater @epiclazershark @tartarusknight

[hotluncheddie]

ur writing brain is so big so I wanted to ask..... do u have any recommendations for your fav Steve-focused fics? 🙈 can be steddie too!

omg hello lovely 2jug2head!!! i have some recommendations yeah!

a few are gonna be from my ao3 bookmarks, if that’s okay and they're all gonna be steddie lmao sry - but steve centric still!

one of my absolute fave depictions of steve is: things to come by birthdaycandles on ao3 - its got how caring he is and how much of a martyr he can be and that conversation he has with hopper where he feels trapped is like, just the BEST

and I've reread: the only way to my heart is with an axe by Themoondogs on ao3 so many times its one of my cozy faves - its very sweet with steve just very slowly comes to terms with his feeling for eddie, very nice confusing bi feelings and fluffy tropes

also: took you for a working boy by pukner is very good. i read it quite a while ago so don't remember exactly what happen but i know there just lovely gender and big feelings and it made me cry. its good and silly and steve and robin are so so besties and eddie is a sweetheart

finally im gonna give u a shorter tumblr rec with @pearynice bc some of their steve centric stuff hits very close to home, very lovely real depictions of how he might react to certain scenarios and like becoming healed and better slowly, with eddie. gonna recommend a hurt/comfort one and oop, what's that? oh, that's right, its another hurt/comfort one :)

hope this is what u asked for kinda? hehe let me know if you liked any of them!!! ❤️

[paradimeshifts7]

Another piece for @pearynice’s incredible bb

Beekeeper Steve, recovering rockstar Eddie, the tenderness of summer in a small town….

Find it all in: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 🐝

[firefly-party]

Happy Birthday @pearynice 💚 My love, this is for you! Enjoy some rockstar!Eds and popstar!Steve! And holy hell, go and read this incredible fic @sidekick-hero wrote for you! ✨

>>And suddenly all the love songs were about you.<<

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

🧠🪱Wiggly Wednesday🧠🪱

Happy hump day, let's unleash those brainworms!

Recent high school graduate Steve, freshly disowned, moving into his first very own apartment. The place is dark and smells funny, the wallpaper is peeling off in places, and the property management firm has a shitty reputation, but beggars can’t be choosers. Anything’s preferable to sticking his feet under his dad’s stupid mahogany table and listening to his bigoted bullshit for another day, right? 

After a long and tiresome moving day involving a broken elevator and lugging all of his boxes up three flights of stairs, Steve has just hit the shower to wash off the sweat when a pipe bursts, cutting off his hot water supply and flooding his ugly, puke-colored floor tiles. Cursing, naked and soapy-haired, Steve slips his way over to the telephone to call the landlord's office. A bored-sounding lady tells him that they’ll send someone over, then hangs up without waiting for a reply. 

Steve has barely even slipped a pair of boxers over his wet ass when the doorbell rings. He opens, only find himself face to face with a long-haired, tattooed guy about his own age. He's clad in a tank top and overalls, carrying a toolbox in one hand and holding a burning cigarette in the other. 

“Hi,” says the guy, dark eyes raking up and down Steve's bare chest. ‘I'm here about the leaky pipe?” 

“Oh,” Steve says, surprised, because damn, that's a swift response time. “Sure, come on in.” 

The guy does, shuffling into the apartment and on to the bathroom without waiting for directions. Steve is left loitering uncertainly in his own hallway. He doesn't need to loiter long, fortunately, because not five minutes later, the guy shuffles back out, drying his hands on one of Steve’s towels, cigarette now dangling from the corner of his mouth. 

“There you go,” he grins, tossing the towel at Steve. “Enjoy your shower.” 

“Thanks,” says Steve, patting his back pocket for his wallet until he remembers that, one, he's not wearing pants, and two, he spent the last of his cash on a vending machine drink earlier because he was fucking parched from carrying all those boxes. “Erm, I'd tip you, but-” 

“Nah, leave it,” says the guy, and wiggles his eyebrows. “The view is more than enough for compensation.” 

Several hours later, Steve is just on his way to bed, the door rings again. It's a grumpy older dude who says he's come to fix the shower. 

“No, it's okay,” Steve says. “Your colleague was here earlier and took care of it.” 

The man laughs. “Colleague? Ha, I wish. There's just me, why d’you think it took me so long?” 

He trudges off, grumbling something under his breath about wasted time, leaving behind a dumbstruck Steve. 

If that was the repair guy … who fixed his shower?

(His name is Eddie. He's a mechanic and lives in the apartment under Steve’s. He's well familiar with the leaky pipes, and when he saw the water running down from his own bathroom ceiling, he immediately knew what the problem was. He also now knows what Steve looks like half naked. They're off to a great start.) 

Tagging some friends to share their own:

@postmodernau @steddie-island @sparkle-fiend @sidekick-hero @slippy-slip

@xgumiho @stevesbipanic @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @pearynice @thefreakandthehair

[hbyrde36]

Your Dasher is Nearby ❤

(Inspired by a TikTok that I can no longer find the link to 🙈)

For @pearynice - Happy Birthday bestie! ILY! 🥰😘🤗

Steddie | Explicit | WC:6672 | AO3

After fighting with the finicky lock on his front door for almost a full five minutes, Steve slunk inside, reveling in the hush of his quiet, if lonely, abode after an exhausting day at work. Robin had only moved out a few weeks ago, and he still wasn’t quite used to coming home to an empty house. Don’t get him wrong, he was happy for her, he just wished she could have settled down with a girlfriend that didn’t live so fucking far away.

Technically, it was a reasonable forty-five minute drive from Hawkins to Indianapolis, but when you were used to seeing someone every single day, even a mile down the road felt as far off as the moon.

It probably didn’t help that today was his birthday, the first he’d have to spend alone since he and Robin had met, slinging ice-cream together one summer after high school and became instant best friends. They had plans for a sleepover on the weekend to celebrate, but that didn’t stop Steve wishing she were there now. Not to mention the fact that the only happy birthday texts he’d gotten all day had been from Robin, and a few of the kids he used to babysit, who weren’t really kids anymore. There hadn’t been a call, text, or so much as an email with one of those shitty e-cards full of low-resolution sparkly roses and balloons from either of his parents. 

Not that he’d expected any different, but it stung all the same.

After a long hot shower that sadly did nothing to lift his mood, Steve stood in front of his refrigerator and sighed. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised to find it bare, it wasn’t as if he'd been grocery shopping recently, but for some reason those empty glass shelves staring back at him like an accusation of how badly he was taking care of himself, were the last straw.

He slammed the fridge door, spinning on his heel to stomp like a petulant child over to the couch, not even bothering to switch the living room lamp on. If he was going to cry he might as well do it in the dark. The first tear slid down his cheek as he hugged a throw pillow to his chest. From there, the floodgates opened when he realized the cushion he clutched still smelled faintly of Robin’s perfume.

God he was pitiful. 

He was twenty-four—er—twenty-five, not five, and much too old to be acting like such a baby.

In the middle of his pity-party for one, Steve's phone vibrated in his sweatpants pocket. He pulled it out in a rush, equal parts hoping for a message from his mom, and dreading it. Only to be disappointed yet again.

It was a stupid notification from DoorDash. A coupon code, no doubt pushed to him because of the day. These companies all had far too much of people’s personal information. Some days Steve would swear his phone was actually picking up on his conversations. Dustin said he was being paranoid, but Steve knew better. Maybe it wasn’t the NSA or some other secret government agency, but someone was listening.

He was sure of it.

You deserve a treat. Use code 30FROMDD for 30% off.  Offer expires 3/20/25. $12 order minimum required. Terms apply.

Hmm…

He was supposed to be saving money now that he had to cover the mortgage alone. Of course, he’d considered the idea of looking for another roommate, and eventually he would have to, but he wasn’t ready to see anyone else in Robin’s space yet.

Fuck it, he thought, lifting the bottom hem of his white tank top to wipe at his eyes. It was his birthday dammit. 

He did deserve a treat.

Steve kept it modest, finding Benny’s within the app and adding his usual cheat meal to the cart, a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a slice of chocolate cake for good measure. His finger hovered above the order button for a moment before he decided to say fuck it, again, and added a six pack of beer from the convenience store around the corner and a small pack of birthday candles. 

He finished the transaction quickly and closed out of the app before he could change his mind and talk himself out of it, then decided to indulge in one more thing, calling Robin on FaceTime.

She answered on the first ring, already singing to him as the video call connected.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Dinguuuuuuuuuuus, Happy Birthday to you!”

God he loved her.

He laughed, feeling the first genuine smile he’d given all day stretch over his mouth as he leaned back into the couch, holding the phone up near his face.

“Thanks for that,” he said sarcastically, but really meaning it wholeheartedly.

“Aw, honey,” Robin squinted, leaning closer to her own screen. “Your hair’s wet. What’s wrong?”

She would notice that.

Steve raked a hand through his dripping locks self consciously. They’d lived together long enough for her to know how much he hated letting it air dry. It always lacked his signature fullness when left to its own devices, but pulling out his hair dryer and round brush tonight felt like way too much effort.

“Nothing,” he said through a heavy exhale. “Just the usual.”

And of course that was all the context Robin needed to guess at the heart of the issue.

She sneered, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Remind me to punch your parents in their stupid faces if I ever meet them.”

“Will do,” he said with a little mocking salute.

“I’m serious!” She insisted, dragging a finger across her throat in a, surprisingly terrifying, cutting gesture. “Richard and Donna’s days are numbered.”

Steve choked on a snort. “I’m sure they’re shaking in their boots.”

“As they should be.” Robin gave a decisive nod, satisfied that her thinly veiled threats to him over the phone would somehow make their way to his parents, wherever they were. “On to happier topics then. We’re still on for this weekend, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes, lounging back onto the couch and kicking his socked feet up on the coffee table. “Obviously.”

“I’m just checking!” She squeaked defensively. “For all I know you’ve lined up a date or something since we made these plans.”

“Who’s going on a date?” Another feminine voice trilled from somewhere off camera.

Robin lifted her eyes, looking in the distance as she answered. “Steve.”

Steve tilted his head back with a sigh. These fucking lesbians were relentless. “I’m not going on a—”

Suddenly a second face filled his phone’s screen, Chrissy, her strawberry blonde hair falling in both her and Robin’s faces, as she mashed their cheeks together. “Who’s the lucky guy taking our little birthday boy out on the town?” She asked.

“There’s no guy—or girl. Robin’s being annoying.” Steve made sure to emphasize the or, since the two of them liked to go around pretending they forgot that Steve was ‘half straight’, as Robin would say. He knew it was only her way of lovingly trying to get a rise out of him, but there would be no bi-erasure in his house! Teasing or not.

Chrissy pouted. “Oh boo, you’re no fun.”

It’s not like Steve didn’t want to date, he was just feeling a little gun-shy after the whole Tommy fiasco. Robin and Chrissy had both been on him for weeks about getting back out there, constantly trying to set him up with some friend of Chrissy’s who still lived in town. He had a feeling that encouragement was about to get ten times worse now that Robin wasn’t there to keep an eye on him herself.

Robin shoved at Chrissy’s shoulder, knocking her out of frame. “Babe, be nice.” 

“You started it.” Chrissy retaliated with a tickle attack, or so Steve assumed based on the way Robin began shrieking like a banshee, and the fact that his view through the phone suddenly became erratic, swinging around wildly. 

Adorable as all this was, the Blair Witch style cinematography they were subjecting him to was making him nauseous, and maybe a little jealous of their relationship.

“Hey,” he called out, clearing his throat. “I think I'm gonna let you guys go. Thanks for the song, Rob.”

“No, wait, Steve—” Robin shouted, shushing Chrissy. The world around her stopped spinning as she seemed to settle on her back, laying down on the carpet and holding the phone above her. “You sure?” 

He knew she'd stay on the phone with him all night if he needed her to, but that idea only made him feel more pathetic. 

“Yeah. My takeout is gonna be here soon anyway.” Steve said with a smile, trying hard to make it reach his eyes so she’d believe he was okay. “Love you, see you in a few days.”

After a brief pause with a wrinkled brow she finally gave in and smiled back. “Love you too, Dingus.”

Steve rubbed at his face, pocketing his phone before getting up to finally switch the lights on, the TV too for some background noise, and found he was actually feeling a little better after seeing Robin’s face, the sting of the day fading into the background a bit. He puttered around for a while, straightening the house, even managing to throw a load of laundry in the wash before his pocket buzzed again. 

Eddie is approaching with your order.

He tapped the notification, opening the app so he could see exactly how close he was to being in hamburger bliss, thrilled to find his dasher was mere blocks away, only for his stomach to drop half a second later.

In his hurry to order he’d completely forgotten to add a tip, and no matter how hard he jabbed at his screen, the stupid app wouldn’t let him go back and change it now. The way Steve saw it, he had two options—stiff this poor Eddie guy on his tip, or meet him outside with cash. Which was… probably a super weird thing to do, but it beat having someone, who now knew where he lived, thinking he was an asshole.

Eddie yawned, stretching his arms up as far as the roof of the van would allow while he waited for the light to turn green. He was stiff, exhausted from his shift at Thatcher’s and had only taken the time to have a quick shower and wolf down a burrito from the gas station before accepting his first order. 

The last thing he felt like doing after slaving away under chassis and over car engines all day, was drive around all night delivering food to the ungrateful masses. But, Wayne’s hospital bills weren’t going to pay themselves. Getting into a fender bender wasn’t cheap these days. It was fine, they’d manage, but he didn't want the old coot hurting himself by trying to go back to work at the plant with a broken goddamn arm. Honestly Eddie was just grateful his uncle had made it out of the accident in one piece. He’d work a second job for the rest of his life if he had to, so long as his surrogate father stayed around for a good long time. 

Who else would walk him down the aisle some day? That is, if Eddie could ever land a date again. 

He’d had his fair share of short-lived relationships and a few steamy one and two night stands, but he’d yet to find someone worth settling in for the long haul. Or, hell, find someone who was even interested in the long haul. Not that he didn’t appreciate the simple joy of a random hookup now and again, but sometimes he felt like the last hopeless romantic in a generation full of peers who didn’t believe in love anymore.

The first few runs of the night were business as usual, mainly fast food pick-ups and quick, easy, no-contact drop offs. He couldn’t help thinking if he kept up this pace he might even be able to knock off early enough to get a full eight hours of sleep.

Optimism wasn’t usually his gig, which probably should have been the first red flag that the night was about to take a turn.

Lost in the groove, he accepted the next order without really looking at the details, annoyed to realize it not only involved two stops, but this Steve prick hadn’t even selected a tip. 

Eddie raced to the first destination, speed the one way to make this order worthwhile now, and hoped the guy’s food was bagged and ready to go. It was, thankfully, and he snatched the bag off the counter with barely a wave at the worker standing behind it, sprinting back out the door.

There was a brief hold-up at the second spot, the same combination gas station corner-store Eddie had procured his dinner from earlier, something about candles that were out of stock—he wasn’t really listening and the app would notify the customer anyway—but he was on his way soon enough, breaking traffic laws left and right to get across town in record time. 

After double checking that he was at the right address, Eddie parked on the street in front of a mailbox shaped like an ice cream truck all done up in pastels, and despite it all found himself smiling as he got out of the van. It was a small, quaint one-story house, with a well-loved vintage BMW parked in the drive. The sky was growing dark, but a pair of bright porch lights provided enough of a glow to reveal old wood siding painted a light robin’s egg blue and an immaculate lawn dotted with brightly colored kitschy ornaments, statues, and one very large pink bird bath in the center of it.

Not at all what Eddie had been expecting, for some reason.

Bags in hand, he headed up the walkway, assuming he’d be leaving the order on the front porch like usual, but as he got closer to the house the front door swung open and a man stepped out, padding determinately down the front steps.

His hair was slicked back, damp as though he were fresh from the shower, with a tight white tank top stretched across his ample chest, thick hair curling up over the neckline. To top it all off, the wet-dream look was completed with the most sinful pair of gray sweatpants imaginable, that did absolutely nothing to conceal the monster hiding beneath the deceptively plain fabric.

And his face?

Eddie nearly tripped over a garden gnome wearing a little rainbow cap because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the man’s warm hazel eyes, pouty pink lips, chiselled jaw, and lightly tanned skin peppered with beauty marks.

Fuck he was pretty.

Almost intimidatingly so, and had Eddie run into the guy in any other setting he might have felt exactly that. Christ, if he looked this good bumming around at home he must have been an absolute knockout when he was dressed up for a night out. But right now like this, walking towards Eddie over the lawn with no shoes? He looked soft, sweet.

And exactly Eddie’s type.

“Steve?” He asked, just to be sure, and was rewarded with the sight of this beautiful adonis of a man grinning shyly, nodding yes as his cheeks flushed pink. 

Eddie melted on the spot. He’d always adored the idea of love at first sight, not that he’d ever admit that aloud. And really, there were far too many crazy stories of coincidences and chance first meetings floating around out there on Reddit and TikTok for it not to be a real thing for some, but he’d never been crazy enough to think it could happen to him. 

… Not that this was that. 

Love was a bit of a strong word for someone he’d met seconds ago, no matter how much of a romantic Eddie was at heart, but there was definitely some kind of instant attraction thing going on here, at the very least. And if the way Steve held his gaze, shivering in the warm night air when their hands brushed as Eddie passed him his bags was any indication, he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

It felt something like the way you might spot a cute guy or girl across the bar and know you were bound for a tryst in a public bathroom that night. But somehow also so much more than that. Did Eddie want to trace the bulging outline in Steve’s pants with his mouth, pull them down past hairy thighs with his teeth and see how far he could stuff what appeared to be an impressive length down his throat? 

Absolutely, he did. 

But he also wanted to hear about Steve’s hopes and dreams, learn his favorite candy, and color, and see what brand of trash TV he liked to watch while cuddling on the couch at night. Wanted to know what that stunning face looked like bathed in sunlight on a Saturday morning, sipping coffee at a table while Eddie stood at the stove making him pancakes.

Eddie swallowed hard, frozen in place by some force outside his control, fated to stand right there for the rest of his life under the hypnotic pull of a stranger's eyes, and was more than happy to do so.

It was Steve who moved first, blinking rapidly as if waking from a dream. With a little shake of his head he held out his free hand, a ten dollar bill tucked between two fingers. “I, uh, t-this is for you,” Steve stuttered out, a nervous giggle playing at the back of his throat. “I messed it up in the app, somehow. I’m not the best with technology.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed, reaching out, but instead of grasping the edge of the bill like he should have, he practically took Steve's entire hand in his own without thinking. Sparks crackled through his veins as though he’d gripped a live wire, his desire for the man in front of him growing tenfold at the simple touch. “Thank you, that—that’s really sweet of you.”

For a long beat, neither of them moved or let go, whatever spell had fallen over them still lingering in the air.

Again it was Steve who came to his senses first, biting his bottom lip as he gently took his hand back, letting go of the cash. “Sorry, I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight,” he said, as though he were the one who’d held on and not the other way around.

“No it’s—” Eddie huffed a laugh, and knew exactly what he had to do. “Listen, this is going to sound so unprofessional but I know I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t at least ask for your number.”

Steve’s gaze dropped to the ground, his socked feet sliding over the grass as he rocked on his heels, before looking back up with another shy smile. “At the risk of sounding worse, would you like to come in for a drink… now?”

Eddie opened his mouth to agree instantly. How could he possibly pass up an opportunity like this? But then he thought of Wayne and the bills and found himself hesitating, glancing back at his van for a half-second, only to get quickly caught in the draw of Steve’s eyes again when he looked back.  

Fuck it, he could take a break for a while, even if it meant dashing into the wee hours later.

“Maybe not a drink since I have to drive, but if you’re willing to share that cake you got there, I think we could work something out.”

Steve swung open his front door, heart racing as he held it for the man following him inside.

Eddie.

His long-haired, doe-eyed, sent like an angel from heaven straight to his fucking house, smoking hot Doordash driver.

And those dimples?

Steve had never been so instantly, insanely, and completely enamored with someone in his entire life, relieved that the feeling seemed to be at least somewhat mutual considering the guy had asked for his number like that. He had no idea what had possessed him to invite Eddie in, it wasn’t like him to be so spontaneous or reckless these days, but he didn’t regret it. 

Robin was going to kill him.

With barely a glance down to make sure he didn’t miss, Steve dropped the bags with his dinner and beer on a nearby side table, his desire for food replaced now with an entirely different kind of hunger. He quickly turned to say god-knew-what to his unexpected guest, and instead found himself being crowded back against the wall, Eddie’s huge brown eyes and plush lips quickly filling his vision. 

“You’re even more gorgeous now that I can see you better,” Eddie said in a soft husky baritone, reaching up to smooth a bit of stray hair away from Steve’s face.

An embarrassing whine slipped from deep inside Steve’s throat, in reply. They’d hardly spoken, barely touched, and yet he was already half hard and out of his mind with how much he wanted the beautiful stranger in front of him.

As if they’d somehow choreographed it, they both surged forward at once, a perfect first touching of lips that, at least for Steve, rivaled every first kiss that had come before it. 

This whole thing was nuts, from chance meeting, to overwhelming crush at first sight, to kissing in a matter of minutes. 

“This is crazy,” Steve said when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Eddie’s as he caught his breath.

Eddie too panted for air, smoothing his hands up and down Steve’s sides, a comforting touch that also made his skin break out in goosebumps. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”

“Good, good. Definitely good,” Steve blurted out quickly, swallowing his nerves. “I just… I never do things like this.” 

That had Eddie stilling his hands—which Steve hated—and pulling back a little—which Steve hated even more—to tilt his head, eyes full of concern. 

“Do you want to stop?”

Five simple words but with them came absolute sincerity. Steve did not know this man, but somehow he believed that he could end this right now and Eddie wouldn’t hold it against him, wouldn’t get mad and call him a prude or a tease.

It only made Steve want him more.

“Fuck no,” he said, with feeling, winding his hands into that mass of curly hair and bringing Eddie‘s mouth crashing into his again. 

Without ever really separating they both lost their shirts, and somehow Steve moved them as one from the living room, down the hall, and to his bedroom, crashing into the wall more than once, knocking a row of Robin’s old canvas painting askew where they hung.

The sight of the bed gave Steve pause for the second time that night, and had his lips slowing to a halt. He wasn’t lying when he told Eddie he didn’t usually do hookups, especially with guys, and he wasn’t sure what the protocol was when you didn’t know ahead of time if your partner preferred to top or bottom.

Like the perfect man he seemed to be so far, Eddie read him like a book, holding him close as he rubbed his back in soothing circles. 

“I’m verse so, whatever you want, Steve, it’s yours.” 

Of course, Steve knew exactly what he wanted, but time and bad experiences made him feel shy asking. “Me too, but I…” he tried, trailing off.

“Oh,” Eddie crooned. 

The hand kneading Steve’s lower back slipped past the waistband of his pants as Eddie reached down to squeeze his ass, one finger sliding over his hole.

Steve whimpered, arching into the small dry touch.

“You need it bad, don’t you, baby?” Eddie asked, without a hint of teasing, as if he understood the feeling.

Steve could only roll his hips, making more needy little sounds in answer.

Eddie pressed a kiss to his forehead, gently coaxing him to sit down on the bed. “How about you lay back and let me take care of you then. Okay, sweetheart?”

Steve did as he was told, sliding back across the sheets of his unmade bed while Eddie kicked off his shoes and followed, settling between his legs. He already felt more at ease with this man he barely knew than he ever had in the almost three years he’d wasted on Tommy.

For a moment Eddie laid his full weight on top of him, bare chest to bare chest, capturing his mouth in another dizzying kiss, Eddie’s tongue exploring the depths of his mouth like he was licking up the remnants of chocolate syrup in the bottom of a sundae, moaning at the taste.

Eddie was incredibly hard where he was pressed to Steve’s hip, grinding in time with the swirls of his tongue. He also felt absolutely huge, and though dry humping was very hot and severely underrated, Steve couldn’t wait to feel Eddie inside him.

With an almost painful, teasing slowness, Eddie began to slide down Steve’s body, that clever mouth working its way down his neck and chest, each touch of lips a searing heat, tongue tracing a wet line down the length of his happy trail until it met the band of his pants. Only then did Eddie lift up, sitting back on his heels as he gripped the waist of Steve's sweats, gently tugging them down and off, tossing the bundle to the other side of the bed.

The air hitting him where he was suddenly bare was a bit of a shock, but it was nothing to the weight of Eddie’s gaze as he looked down at Steve’s body, a reverence in his eyes as he took it all in that made Steve want to weep. He wasn’t sure any other partner had looked at him quite like that before.

“Beautiful,” Eddie murmured quietly, and in a mirror of before now began making his way back up, beginning with a tender kiss to Steve’s knee.

Steve sucked air through his teeth, lost in sensation as Eddie alternated between biting and pressing open mouthed kisses to the delicate skin of his inner thigh, moving closer and closer to his center until there was a quick flick of a tongue over his hole.

Just once, the warm wet touch of it there and gone so fast it could have been dismissed as an accident if Eddie hadn’t looked up after, heavily lidded eyes boring into Steve’s own as he asked the question.

“Can I?”

Steve’s mouth fell open, Tommy would never—

No. 

No, he wasn’t going to think about that asshole anymore, not when he had someone right here eyeing him up like he was the pièce de résistance of a gourmet meal. God, where had this man been all his life?

“You want to?”

Eddie chuckled. “When I said I wanted your cake, I wasn’t exactly talking about dessert.” 

With a raise of his brow Eddie ducked back down, licking a wet stripe from Steve’s taint to the base of his cock, hands sliding beneath his ass, hoisting him up for better access.

“Oh fuck.”

Steve writhed, head thrashing, his hands twisting into the sheets around him as his trembling knees found their resting place on top of Eddie’s shoulders. They were just getting started and he already wanted to live there forever with Eddie’s head nestled between his thighs.

With that reaction Eddie dove in with gusto, his tongue circling Steve’s rim over and over, making his hole flutter with each lingering pass. It felt incredible, but the sounds Eddie made as he feasted were equally as divine, making it clear that he was enjoying himself as much as Steve was.

And Steve was enjoying himself, thoroughly, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum onto his belly while his mouth released a flood of whorish sounds he’d never heard himself produce before.

It only worsened when Eddie’s talented tongue pushed its way inside for the first time. Steve would owe his neighbors an apology in the morning, but as Eddie breached his hole again, pushing it deeper still while finally setting him down to take hold of his aching cock, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Eddie took it slow, switching up the rhythm of his hand as he worked Steve over, keeping him right on that precarious edge, all the while taking turns between laving over the ring of puckered skin with long wet strokes, and fucking into him with the tip of his hot tongue.

As mind blowing as it was, it wasn’t long before Steve found himself wanting more, needing more, needing Eddie to hurry up and fuck him already. He must have made a sound of frustration, that or Eddie was some kind of mind-reader, because the moment he was about to break down and beg for it he felt two fingers, slick with spit, start working him open. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Steve chanted, fucking himself down as best he could now that he had some leverage to work with, pleased when Eddie spurred him on.

“That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

Eddie kept pumping his fingers, adding a third and meeting Steve thrust for thrust until Steve’s chants and moans turned to desperate babbling pleas.

“Condoms?” Eddie asked, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Steve’s groin as he slowed the movements of his hand to a stop, pulling his fingers free as gently as he could.

Chest heaving, Steve fought to catch his breath. He gestured vaguely at his nightstand, ignoring the suddenly empty feeling as his stretched hole clenched around nothing, trusting he’d be full again soon.

“Be right back, gorgeous.” 

With one more sugary sweet brush of lips to his hip, Eddie slipped off the bed, shedding his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion before digging through the small drawer, quickly finding what they needed.

Steve took the chance to look his fill as Eddie climbed back onto the bed, the sight of the heavy cock swaying between his legs making his mouth water, and making him wish he’d stripped Eddie down himself and taken the chance to explore his body in kind. There were a pair of tattoos low on his hips that held a particular interest. 

Next time, he thought. 

If there was a next time.

And then Eddie was lining himself up and pushing inside, and Steve couldn’t think of anything at all. 

They’d done enough prep that the head popped right in, but Eddie was big, bigger than any cock or toy Steve had taken before and by the time Eddie was fully seated inside he was so full he felt like he might split in two, in the best way possible. 

Eddie stayed there, perfectly still, letting Steve adjust for so long that Steve was afraid he’d never move, but he shouldn't have been worried. Eddie had promised to take care of him and it seemed he was taking that vow seriously, or maybe his seemingly endless patience had finally run out. After a slow experimental thrust that sent Steve’s mouth falling open in pleasure, he set a brutal pace, the sound of their bodies like a raucous round of applause. Music to Steve’s ears.

He knew right away wasn’t going to last at this rate, it’d simply been too long and he was too turned on to start with. Thankfully he could feel Eddie pulsing inside him each time he slammed to the hilt, and knew the other man was just as close to his tipping point. 

Soon the familiar thrumming pleasure began to build under Steve’s skin, filling him up with each slap of their bodies together until he could no longer hold it in anymore. He came untouched with the strangled cry of Eddie’s name on his lips, and starbursts flashing across his vision. It went on for what seemed like forever, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over him while Eddie continued to fuck him hard through it, hitting his prostate with every thrust as he chased his own orgasm until he finally followed Steve over that delicious edge. 

Neither moved until Eddie softened, slipping out of Steve with ease as he moved away, tying off the condom before dropping it to the floor. 

With their breaths slowing and the dust settling, and the overwhelming sense of desire fully satiated, Steve expected to feel awkward, but it was hard to feel anything but content when Eddie rolled back over and pulled him into his side, humming happily, kissing his hair as Steve rested on his head on his chest,

“God, where have you been all my life,” Eddie mumbled with his lips still pressed to Steve’s temple.

Steve froze, going rigid in Eddie’s embrace, stunned to hear him give voice to the same thought he’d had earlier.

“Shit,” Eddie cursed softly. “Did I say that out loud?”

Slowly Steve raised his head, silently nodding when he couldn’t seem to unstick his suddenly tight throat. 

“Sorry,“ Eddie sighed, shaking his head as he tried to sit up. “I—I get it, I can go if you—”

“Don’t—” Steve pressed a hand to Eddie's chest, forcing him back down, searching his face for some sign that he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself. Though, he was pretty sure Eddie was worth the risk. “Please tell me that means this wasn’t a one time thing, that you feel it too?”

He wasn’t even sure what it was, this strange connection they seemed to have, without ever meeting before. He only knew it had grown stronger with every kiss, every caress, every drop of fluids they’d wrung from each other’s bodies.

Eddie sagged, melting into the bed, a relieved smile curling his lips as he reached up to cup Steve’s cheek. “Steve, baby, I felt it the second I laid eyes on you. I meant it when I asked for your number outside. I know we kinda took the next step already, but I'd love to take you out. I want to do this right, get to know each other, win you over with my unconventional charms in the hopes one day we could make this official.”

Steve smiled back, feeling practically giddy as he leaned into Eddie’s tender touch, processing his words. It was everything he could have wanted to hear and more, except.

Why wait for all that?

“Or I could be your boyfriend now,” Steve countered. “And we could let the rest of it work itself out later?”

“Deal,” Eddie said with zero hesitation, pulling him in for a deep lingering kiss to seal it. 

“What were the candles for?” Eddie asked after a while. 

They’d been cuddling in comfortable silence for so long that Steve was pretty sure he’d drifted off a few times.

“Hmm?” he hummed, stirred by the question, totally blanking for a moment until it all came rushing back. His horrible day, that had completely melted away once Eddie showed up and turned his world upside down.

“Oh god,” he groaned, shame curling in his gut, even though he knew that was stupid. “It’s, um… It’s sorta my birthday? And I was feeling really bummed about spending it alone since my roommate and best friend just moved away. So, I thought I'd get some birthday candles to put in a slice of cake to cheer myself up, and...”

Yeah, it didn’t sound any better when he said it out loud, but if they were really doing this he couldn’t exactly not tell Eddie that today was his birthday. He'd find out eventually.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Eddie said without pity, dropping more of his wonderful kisses to the top of Steve’s head.

“I get it, y’know,” Eddie went on. ”Being lonely. I have my uncle at home but my best friend moved to Indy a few months ago and life hasn’t been the same without her in my business all the time.”

Steve huffed an incredulous laugh. “That’s where my roommate moved too. Small world.” 

As if she could somehow sense that he was thinking about her, because it had to be Robin calling, Steve’s phone began to vibrate where it laid on the edge of the bed, sticking halfway out of his pants pocket. With a groan he sat up, missing Eddie’s warmth immediately, and reached for it. He meant to simply silence the call and give his attention back to the brand new boyfriend in his bed, until he saw the literal dozens of text messages and missed video calls from her.

With an apologetic glance at Eddie he quickly tapped the button to answer her incoming facetime.

“Stephen. Marie. Harrington,” she growled through gritted teeth. “You’d better be dying in a ditch somewhere or I swear to god—” she cut herself off suddenly, eyes narrowing as she stared into her phone. “Are you in bed right now? Why are you in bed at 9 o’clock?”

Steve bit his lip, looking over again at Eddie who shrugged as if to say, it’s up to you.

“I… kinda met someone?”

“How did you meet someone without leaving your…” she trailed off slowly, a look of dawning horror coming over her face. “Oh god, don’t tell me you rejoined the dating apps.”

“It was DoorDash, actually.”

Robin blinked at him. “... What?”

“Nevermind.” Steve tilted his phone, holding it further away as he panned the camera over to get both of them in the shot. “Um, this is Eddie,” 

“Hi Steve’s best friend!” Eddie said with a grin and a wave, the rumpled sheets still pooled around his hips leaving his glistening, sweat and other bodily fluid coated chest on full display. He was definitely not shy.

Steve was obsessed with him.

Suddenly Robin was gone, as if someone had ripped the phone out of her hand, the shaky picture flipping from a far off view of a small kitchen, to a white ceiling, and then to a close up of Chrissy’s face, her mouth agape.

“Eddie?!”

“Chris—what? How?!” Eddie sat up abruptly, pulling the sheets up as if he was suddenly scandalized, eyes wide with pure shock. “Steve… Is your lesbian best friend, my lesbian best friend’s girlfriend?”

“I guess so?” Steve said in a baffled haze, before being hit with a sudden realization. He glared into his phone's camera. “Is Eddie the guy you kept wanting to set me up with?”

Chrissy held a hand over her mouth, giggling uncontrollably as she nodded. 

Holy shit. 

It really was a small world.

Steve sighed heavily, “tell Robin I'll text her tomorrow,” ending the call as Chrissy’s giggling turned into a wheezing guffaw. He tossed his phone unceremoniously onto the nightstand, turning back to the grinning man at his side.

“So, we could have been doing this for weeks?”

“Afraid so, sweetheart.” Eddie threw the sheet aside once more, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. “If it’s any consolation I had no idea.”

“You know what? I’m glad we found each other on our own.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed, swinging a leg over Eddie’s hips to settle in his lap, the possibility of going for a round two already in the back of his mind. “My own special delivery, right to my door. It’s a much better story.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, amusement making his eyes sparkle in the dim light. “Are you sure it’s not because now they can’t lord it over us that they set us up and we hit it off?”

Steve shrugged, leaning in to lick across Eddie’s mouth, wondering idly how long the appropriate time to wait would be before he could ask him to move in. 

“That’s a pretty good perk too.”

Many thanks to @penny00dreadful and @sidekick-hero for all your beta work, cheerleading, and handholding! 💜

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @sidekick-hero @firefly-party @bookworm0690

@wonderland-girl143-blog  @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

@hitlikehammers

[penny00dreadful]

Timezone

AO3 / Part 1 (You are here) For @pearynice Happy birthday darling, I hope you enjoy 🥰

AO3 / Part 2 (Coming Soon)

[steddieunderdogfics]

Personally by Peachesandpears

@pearynice

Rating: General Audiences

1,257 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Established Relationship, Steve Harrington Has PTSD, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Soft Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart

Summary:

“What won’t happen again?” And Eddie’s not shouting, hasn’t even raised his voice, but Steve can feel pins and needles in his fingertips because he doesn’t know what to do. He stayed neutral. He doesn’t know how to swallow this. How to soak in Eddie’s anger until it goes away. “The-” Steve flounders, “the- the cleaning. It won’t.” He swallows thickly. “That’s what won’t.”

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @pearynice. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[thefreakandthehair]

apollo, who?

prompt: beach day | pairing: steddie | wc: 1.5k | rating: teen & up | tags: eddie munson pov, athletic steve, post-canon fix it, pining, reciprocated crushes | written for @pearynice for the @strangerthingswritersguild April Fools exchange! 💕☀️🌊

There are three absolute truths when it comes to Steve Harrington: 

The first is that Steve is a gifted athlete. 

The second is that Steve was born to thrive in the summertime. 

And the third, much to Eddie Munson’s chagrin and horror, is that the combination of the first two truths will be his undoing. In public, no less, because the universe has apparently concocted a plan to let Eddie live but to make him suffer nonetheless. 

Unloading the van had been easy enough— Steve grabbing the cooler stacked to the brim with soda, water, and snacks and Eddie watching as he’d trekked through the sand to where Robin and Nancy set up their chairs and beach umbrella. Most of the kids were long gone already, staking their claim with blankets and towels a few feet away from Robin and Nancy, leaving Eddie to snag the sunblock he’s basically been made to swear a blood oath to Wayne that he’ll apply generously over his scars. 

He leans back over the passenger seat to grab it from the center console, along with his walkman and sunglasses, and when he turns back around, he stops dead. 

Steve’s shirtless.

In the span of ten seconds, Steve’s already shirtless on the beach, nothing but swim trunks hanging from his hips, and Eddie realizes he’s underestimated how fucking beautiful this sight might be. 

The edge of Lake Michigan laps at the rippled sands as Steve reels back and tosses a football that Eddie’s pretty sure materialized out of nowhere to Lucas a few yards down the shore. All of his freckles and moles and scars out on full display, the sun beats down on his tanned skin and uncharacteristically messy hair that Eddie’s watched slowly morph from chestnut to ash brown over the course of the season. 

As Eddie applies his stupid sunblock, he lets himself stare unnoticed. Lucas throws what Eddie assumes is a good pass if Steve’s celebratory, “Great spiral!” means anything and when he puts on his sunglasses, it’s more to shield the blinding light of Steve’s smile than the sun. Maybe it’s cliche, maybe it’s overdone and contrived, but Eddie can’t stop himself from comparing Steve to a Greek fucking God. 

Apollo, who? 

El appears next to Steve and Eddie continues to watch— about three layers of sunblock in at this point because he’s lost track— as Steve demonstrates something. Holding the football in one hand, he points at the laces and seems to check in with El for understanding before handing it over to her and adjusting her grip slightly. When she attempts to throw it to Lucas, it falls short and lands in the sand just a few feet away from where she and Steve stand. 

Eddie’s chest fucking swells as Steve trots over to grab it and simply hands it to her again, smile in place to counteract El’s pout. Three or four tries later, the ball flies straight enough for Lucas to catch it and Jesus H. Christ, Steve cheers like she scored a touchdown, or whatever the fuck it’s called. 

He can’t leave the side of the van. If he makes his way down to the beach, it’ll be all over for him. He’ll have to hide in the water the entire time, and now there’s too much sunblock on his face to blame the inevitable flush on sunburn. It’s fine, he can hang back. Everyone looks preoccupied anyways and with any luck, no one will notice he’s not enjoying the surf and sand with everyone else until it’s time to leave— 

“Eddie!” 

Right, he thinks to himself. I have no luck. 

Steve waves at him to come join, turning that sunshine smile directly at him and it’s a direct hit. Apparently, even on the opposite side of the sands, he’s still a goner. 

“Eddie! C’mon, what’re you waiting for?” He calls out again, both hands resting on his hips. 

It does nothing to quell his urge to stare at places friends aren’t supposed to stare at. As far as he knows, the only person to have picked up on his unfortunate crush is Nancy, who’d seemed to understand the importance of discretion and hasn’t said a word. If he can leave this beach day with his secret intact, he’ll chalk it up as a success. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” 

With a deep breath, he locks and slams the passenger door to the van and walks out onto the hot sand, barefoot with his sneakers in one hand, SPF 70 in the other, and sunglasses hung over his nose. Distantly, he recognizes the grittiness of the sand beneath his toes and the earthy scent of the freshwater stretching out for miles in front of him but more acutely, he just keeps his eyes on Steve. 

Please let these glasses be tinted, he thinks. 

“Finally, what the hell were you doing up there?” Steve asks when he makes it down the narrow path lines with tall grass. 

“Aw, did you miss me, Big Boy?” Eddie drones with a smirk. If he just acts normal, no one will know the difference. It’s not like Steve ever flirts back—

“And if I did?” 

He hasn't planned for that response. All he’s prepared for is a gentle eye roll, maybe a flustered laugh or furrowed brow, and now Steve’s shirtless, sun-baked, sweat dripping from his temple and suggesting he missed him. 

What the fuck. 

“Heads-up!” Lucas yells and Steve turns just in time to take two steps backward and catch the football coming in their direction. 

There’s no way for Lucas to have known he’d just saved Eddie from something horrendously embarrassing, but he’ll find a way to thank him all the same. 

“Ever throw a football?” Steve holds the oblong ball in one hand, wiggling it at shoulder height with a grin. “I taught El how to throw a spiral, so I think I can teach you, too.” 

Okay, actually, he’s still being subjected to something humiliating. 

“Sports have never really been my—”

“Don’t start with that, c’mere. It’s easy.” Steve gestures with a nod of his head for Eddie to join him further out on the beach and like a satellite to its orbit, he follows. 

It takes way more attempts than it did El— something Max was all too quick to point out loudly— but he does eventually throw something that Steve considers a spiral. Maybe it would’ve taken fewer tries if Steve hadn’t insisted on standing directly behind him, adjusting his stance and grip with his chest damn near pressed against Eddie’s back. 

Of all the unfair cards life has dealt him, this has to be the worst. More than once, he makes eye contact with Nancy who raises an eyebrow and smirks before returning her attention to whatever she and Robin are talking about. 

Probably him. Him and Steve and his dumb, dumb, dumb crush that’s ruining his life. It’s fine. 

When he finally throws the ball at an acceptable angle, Steve claps him on the shoulder and stands next to him, effectively draping an arm over both shoulders. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He swallows and turns, breath catching his throat. All of the sun has brought Steve’s freckles to the forefront, a shade darker than usual with new tiny pinpricks of color appearing along his nose with a faint pink hue along his cheekbones. 

If they weren’t in public, he’d do something very, very stupid. Instead, he clears his throat subtly and finds words. 

“Sure, yeah, I’m a regular sports guy now, Steve. Guess I’ve gotta find something to teach you, huh? Y’know, return the favor?” 

“I’ve always wanted to learn guitar. You can show me the basics some time. Or uh,” Steve grins and lowers his voice. “I’m sure there are some other things we can learn together.” 

Eddie’s fully lost track of how many times he’s been caught off-guard so far today, but this one takes the cake. Steve’s fucking flirting with him. Actually flirting with him. Beating him over the goddamn head with it, really. 

“Yeah! Yeah, uh, yeah,” he repeats, smooth. “To both, I mean. Yeah, to both.” 

Steve squeezes his shoulder and unravels his arm with a hopeful expression. 

“We’ll talk more when we aren’t surrounded by nosy shits, especially those two,” Steve nods at Robin and Nancy who wave with their fingers. “In the meantime, race you to the water?” 

“What is it with you jocks?”

He barely has time to get the question out before Steve takes off, plunging into the water a solid foot before Eddie even reaches the shore. 

“That’s cheating, Harrington!” He bellows, running through the sand to join him, heart thundering between his ribs and head still spinning from what just happened. 

“Sounds like what I’d expect from someone who just lost,” Steve shoots back, taking a breath and submerging himself before popping back up. 

Hair slicked back with the freshwater of Lake Michigan, Eddie watches as Steve runs both hands through it, then down his face and back into the lake. Water droplets glisten off his skin and Eddie wades a little closer, finding Steve’s hands once they’re submerged enough to disguise it. 

“Oh, contraire,” Eddie muses. “I feel like I just won.”

[werepuppy-steve]

eddie rubs his hands together as their waitress, cindy, sets his breakfast sampler and strawberries and cream crepes in front of him. he's already reaching for the ketchup and maple syrup to drown his food in.

steve thinks it's too early for him look that gleeful in the middle of an ihop. it's barely nine in the morning.

"give me a shout if you boys need anything else," cindy says as she sets down steve's smokehouse combo and new york cheesecake pancakes. "i'll be over to top your coffee off in a minute."

"thank you, cindy," they call as she walks away.

steve takes a sip of his coffee and watches eddie pop open the ketchup to smother his eggs and hashbrows with, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his lips.

he resists the urge to lean across the table and kiss him, only because they're in public and steve also doesn't want to risk getting food all over the front of his shirt.

but when eddie squeezes the bottle, it makes a farting noise and all the comes out is a watery splash of red.

"aw no." eddie's face falls into an adorable pout. "not the ketchup pre-cum."

steve sputters and almost sucks his coffee back up his nose. he catches his breath and gives eddie a bewildered stare, but the other boy is focused on smacking the lid of the bottle against his palm.

"i'm sorry—the what?"

eddie finally looks up at him with round eyes, completely clear of any of the confusion that is definitely showing on steve's face currently.

"the ketchup pre-cum," he says, like steve should know what that is. "you know, the watery bits that squirt out if you don't shake the bottle good enough? kind of looks like pre-cu-"

"i know what pre-cum is," steve cuts him off with a sigh, casting glances around to the other tables to see if anyone else overheard him. "but do you have to call ketchup that?"

eddie only snickers at him. when he's satisfied that it's been shaken to his standards, he snaps open the cap and tries again–

–and lets out a high pitched moan when ketchup comes dribbling out of the bottle.

steve chokes on his spit. they're definitely getting stares from other tables now, and he hides his burning face in his hands while eddie just laughs harder, like the teasing little asshole he is.

"jesus christ," steve murmurs under his breath, dragging his fingers down his face. "can't fucking take you anywhere, i swear."

eddie just gives him a little hum and nudges his foot under the table, looking every bit pleased as goddamn punch.

taglist (ask to be added!):

@yournowheregirl @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy

@tboygareth @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual

@theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie

@corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero @simplebtromance

@tangerinesteve @stevesjockstrap @steddie-island @spectrum-spectre @pearynice

[acidicbarkbeast]

My part of a wonderful collaboration between me and @pearynice for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang! It was lots of fun working together, and we hope you all love the product that came from it as much as we do!

Read Turn and Face the Strange on ao3!

Pairing; steddie Rating; explicit Tags; no upside down, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort