Jonathan didn’t know how else to say it but…Steve Harrington was weird. Like really, really weird. And he wasn’t even talking about Steve and Eddie. He thought Harrington was plenty weird all on his own.
Jonathan really didn’t understand why Eddie was always marked as the strange one in the duo. To him, Eddie made perfect sense. Poor background, unique interests, drug dealer, loud and obnoxious as a coping mechanism, but still managing to be a pretty good guy all around. It was normal for a guy like that to be a little out there.
But Steve didn’t make any sense to him. Zero. Zilch.
Because he was rich, handsome, athletic, a total jock in every sense of the word. Half the school wanted to get in his pants, while the other half desperately tried to figure out how he got so many girls. By all accounts, he should be an asshole. Someone who basked in his own popularity, not someone who literally shunned it. Steve was the only person he’d ever met who had it all, and didn’t care.
All he seemed to care about was freaking Eddie Munson of all people. They had been attached at the hip since grade school and even with Eddie disappearing for two years, Steve was right back at his side nearly the moment he got back.
He didn’t go to parties, never bragged about his conquests unless someone asked, and even then he was always incredibly vague, and from what he’d heard from Nancy, he didn’t even sleep at his own house 90 percent of the time. If you were looking for Steve Harrington, all you really had to do was track down Eddie Munson.
Jonathan had only purchased weed a handful of times in his young life, but every single time Steve had been there. Either in the van waiting when Eddie dropped something off, or sitting right next to him on the park bench, popping gum and reading a comic book while Eddie did his business.
And he was…intensely protective over him. Which was weird considering how Munson was scary enough in his own right, at least on the outside. Like getting into multiple fights, protective. Making girls cry who had the audacity to say anything about Eddie’s antics, protective. Like cursing out an actual teacher, protective.
Like comforting your best friend after a near death experience instead of your literal girlfriend protective. Who did that? And maybe it hadn’t been official back then, but still. You’d think you’d spend time cuddling your crush in your lap instead of your childhood buddy. And there was also the weird hair smelling thing they kept doing. He hadn’t looked too closely at the time, but Steve had turned to bury his face in Eddie’s hair every few minutes after the 83 showdown. He hadn’t seen a repeat of that since, though. Maybe…maybe Eddie had gotten demon guts in his hair? And Steve had been trying to find the source?
He didn’t fucking know. He just…didn’t get him. And now he got him even less. The guy pulled freaking Nancy Wheeler as his girlfriend, and he didn't spend every possible waking moment with her?
But it wasn’t just him prioritizing Eddie over Nancy. It was the fact that he didn’t care that Nancy was with him more often than her actual boyfriend. Which was fantastic for Jonathan, even if it was a bit of a double edged sword. Because Nancy was gorgeous and so fucking smart and cool and…and Jonathan liked her so much he kind of wanted to die.
And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Even if he’d come close, way more than once. There were probably a dozen times where he’d almost kissed her. And the last one would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. They had been talking next to his car during lunch, Jonathan couldn’t even remember what it had been about. He just remembered that he had said something to make her laugh. And she looked so freaking beautiful when she laughed. She looked pretty all the time, but something about seeing her happy made her jump from a 10/10 to a 15.
The sun was in her hair, and her eyes crinkled in that cute way that he loved, and Jonathan had been leaning in before he knew it was happening. And if Steve and Eddie hadn’t walked by right in that moment, it would have happened. He had jumped nearly ten feet in the air when he spotted him out of the corner of his eye, fully expecting Steve to start tearing into him for being so close to his girlfriend.
But he just smiled and waved when he saw them, and went right back to their conversation before walking off.
See? Weird.
He didn’t know why it didn’t bother Nancy more, how little he cared about what the two of them were up to. Part of him was praying it was because she was falling out of love with him, and all of the romantic tension they had together wasn’t in his head.
But he just couldn’t bring himself to make that final step. Mostly because he was busy trying to take care of Will most of the time. Even if he got his way he wasn’t exactly in a position to be a good boyfriend. His little brother came first, especially after everything he had been through. And he was struggling, Jonathan could see it. And he spent most of his spare moments trying his damndest to get Will to open up. It hadn’t worked. But he kept trying.
But there was another part to it too. He…he didn’t want to be that guy. The kind of guy to make moves on a taken girl. Especially Steve’s girl. Both him and Eddie had risked their lives last year helping them out, and what? He was going to thank them by breaking Steve’s heart? He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Even if Eddie wanted him to. Which was just one more thing he didn’t get, the weird encouragement Eddie would give him when it came to his best friend’s girlfriend. If Jonathan mentioned a movie he wanted to see, preferably with her, Eddie would always be sure to keep Steve busy on friday nights for her to be free. If Jonathan had his mom’s car for a week and really wanted to be the one to pick her up in the morning, Eddie would conveniently find a reason that Steve couldn’t.
It was weird, and kind of fucked up, but Jonathan had at least a small idea on why he was doing it. It was pretty obvious, after you got a little closer to the two of them. Eddie was in love with Steve. But Steve wasn’t in love with Eddie, not when he had Nancy on his arm. It explained why he monopolized all of his time, why he hung around them on their dates, why he was so open to letting another guy swoop in on her.
He never actually asked him about it. It felt like a fucked up thing to say, especially if he was wrong. But Jonathan couldn’t think of any other explanation. So he kind of just…went with it. At this point it felt like he was Eddie’s co-conspirator to break them up, even if it was never explicitly said.
Which was fucked up, on both their ends. Yeah Steve was weird, and kind of a bitch, but he was a good guy all in all. He was Eddie’s best friend for a reason.
So Jonathan held back his feelings. Or at least he did for as long as he could. But then Nancy came to him for help to expose the Hawkins lab. And they ended up on this crazy fucking adventure together. And he just fell more and more in love with every wild stunt she did.
And then they kissed at Murray’s and Jonathan didn’t have the strength to say no. How could he? It just…happened. And okay yes. He feels bad for Steve. But he doesn’t regret it. Not even slightly. And maybe that made him the biggest asshole in the world, but it was hard to care when Nancy freaking Wheeler wanted him of all people.
It was pretty easy to shove the guilt right out of his mind. That was until they saw Steve and Eddie next, right in front of the Hawkins lab. Steve had instantly brightened at the sight of her, immediately sweeping her up into a big hug.
And Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He just couldn’t. Because that was probably going to be the last time they hugged like that. He was already in too deep and there was no way in hell that he was going to let last night be a one night stand. He hadn’t exactly asked Nancy to break up with him yet, but he was going to.
Because he was a dick like that, apparently. But maybe they could find a way to do it…kindly? If that was even possible. And if there was anyone who would be able to help soften the blow for Steve, it would be Eddie Munson.
Jonathan walked up to him as the other two started talking. He jerked his head to the side, “Hey can I talk to you for a second?”
Eddie nodded, following him over to a safe distance from the car. He didn’t really think Eddie would be mad at him for what he did. But he was still a little nervous to say it out loud.
He avoided saying what he truly wanted, deflecting with a question, “So um, Steve and Nancy, how uh, serious are they?”
Eddie stared at him like he’d magically grown a second head, “Huh?”
“They’ve almost been together for like a year now right?” Jonathan pressed, “Is he…y’know. In love with her?”
But Eddie was still looking at him like he’d asked something insane. He narrowed his eyes at him, “Are…are you kidding me right now?”
“What?” Jonathan asked, almost as equally confused as Eddie, “Why would I be kidding?”
Eddie raised a brow at him, “You think Steve and Nancy are dating? For like, real? After all this time? After last year. That’s what you think?”
Jonathan really wished Eddie would just tell him what the hell he was talking about instead of emphasizing every other word. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling oddly defensive when he asked, “What else am I supposed to think?”
He hadn’t expected Eddie to bark out a laugh at the question. It took a second for him to compose himself to talk again while Jonathan looked on, more confused than ever.
Eddie eventually straightened, holding a fist in front of his mouth while he struggled for the words, “Jonathan, dude, last year you saw me in his lap. With my arms around his neck. While he kissed me to make me feel better.”
Jonathan blinked at him, “Huh?”
He hadn’t remembered the kissing part. And in his defense he had been a bit distracted with the news that his brother was alive. But the hair smelling thing…had…had Steve been kissing the top of his head that whole time? Right in front of him?
Eddie looked way too amused at Jonathan’s shock, “So what do you think that means bud? Is that something you do with your friends?”
“But Nancy! And all the other girls-”
“Fake, fake, fake and fake,” Eddie said with a grin, “That boy’s all mine. And has been for years. Him and Nance are just friends. Really good friends but that’s it.”
Eddie put a hand on his shoulder, voice softening a little but still a little too tickled for Jonathan’s liking, “We all kind of thought you knew man. I guess I underestimated our own acting skills there.”
Jonathan slowly nodded, even though his brain was still struggling to catch up with everything he’d said. But it made sense. It actually made perfect sense. That’s why Steve didn’t care that he was all over her, that’s why Eddie had been so encouraging, that’s why Steve was so fucking weird. The guy had been basically married since he was in third grade.
“Holy shit,” Jonathan finally breathed out, “That makes so much sense.”
But then a realization hit him, “Wait, so all of this time Nancy has been single?”
“And ready to mingle,” Eddie added with a wink, “Though if it helps, you’re the only one she’s set her sights on. That and Tom Cruise but I think you still have good odds.”
As wonderful as that revelation was, it kind of also made him want to smash his head into a wall. How could he have been so blind?
“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, like he could read his mind, “We do actually try to hide it most of the time. It’s not completely your fault for not seeing the hints.”
He only had one more question, a stupid one but he still wanted to be sure, “So um, hypothetically. If I, uh, slept with his fake girlfriend, he wouldn’t be mad about it?”
Eddie laughed, “He’d be ecstatic. Half the time those two talk is about you. He’s been waiting for you to make a move as long as Nancy has. And he will definitely get a kick out of this conversation when I tell him, that’s for damn sure.”
Jonathan nodded. That was…some pretty fantastic news. Besides the sting that he could have had her weeks or even months ago, it was a good fucking feeling to know that they hadn’t done anything wrong. It was kind of weird, knowing that Steve Harrington of all people was gay. But he didn’t care. That might have been how his dad tried to raise him, but his mom had stopped all the homophobic shit the second he ditched.
He was raised better than to judge two people for being happy together. And the fact that they trusted him with something so big made him feel…kind of special. Definitely not like an asshole. The two of them wandered back to Steve and Nancy and Eddie didn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms.
Jonathan watched as he whispered something to him before kissing his cheek, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for them it probably was. He saddled next to Nancy. He didn’t exactly have the confidence to be that affectionate in public like those two did, but he’d like to work his way up to it. He gently took her hand in his, blushing at the way it made her smile.
She squeezed his hand back before shuffling a little closer to lean into him. He didn’t have much time to indulge in it, not when the lights all suddenly came back on. But as they all hurried inside, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
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Steddie S4 💚Secret Relationship🩶
because when cheerleaders start floating and folding like laundry, what do you do? you run to your boyfriend (duh)
Eddie doesn’t dump his van on purpose. He runs out of fucking gas.
Through the pounding of his heartbeat and the screeching echo of his own screams and the memory of the cracking, the snapping of, of—
Through all of it he hears a voice in his head: when the little stick points to ‘E’ it isn’t a fucking suggestion, man and the tone the voice is in, the recognizable combination of snark and concern and fondness, genuine fucking fondness—it doesn’t calm his pulse at all but it does ease his nerves just a little, just enough to realize: he gonna have to run the rest of the way.
Thankfully, he took backroads: enough tree cover that footsteps would be hard to track so any direction would be way too hard to find, not quick enough, not before they can, not before Steve can—
He starts the old girl one more time before she gives out entirely, but the fumes take him into the woods far enough to hide the van pointing the wrong way, and the ground’s hard enough here still that he doesn’t leave tread marks. Okay.
Okay. So…running.
The lucky thing is, Eddie knows these woods.
Or rather: Eddie knows that these woods will take him right to where he wanted to go anyway. They run up against the backyard of the exact house with the exact man he needs.
He doesn’t keep to a straight shot, but he doesn’t waste time either, his chest hurts too much, and it’s weird that his heartbeat’s no harder or faster for fucking sprinting, his lungs no closer to hyperventilation when he’s a smoker who doesn’t really do physical activity, at least not the kind that’d help him out, here—it’s weird, and probably concerning that when he gets to the sliding glass off the back deck his lungs are on fire and his chest is heaving but it doesn’t feel any different from the moment he watched her, watched her…
No different from then, to now.
He thinks he’s slapping the glass more than knocking, but he’s answered quicker than he would be if the sole resident of the property had actually been asleep so. At least there’s that.
“Eddie?”
Steve’s all question in his tone for a whole second before he’s grabbing Eddie, pulling him in, closing the door and locking it quick and then, and then—
Pulling Eddie straight into his chest and wrapping around him and Eddie fucking collapses, drops into that embrace because he needs it, now, and it’s come to mean safe and home and, and loved and he—
“Eds, baby, are you hurt?” Steve doesn’t peel him away where he burrows in further, but starts running palms down Eddie’s limbs, looking for wounds, for clues as Eddie shakes, trembles and gasps against him.
“What is it, what happened?” Steve tries to get him to breathe even as he asks, even when his hands finish searching, when Steve sees that his body at least is intact, unlike—
Fuck.
“Eds, come on, deep breath with me,” and Steve grabs one of Eddie’s hands and shoves it hard to his own chest, models the motion like Eddie’s never learned how on his own and it helps, it does help, and he knows he needs to, to tell Steve and—
“Did,” Eddie gets out a single word on a huff of air but Steve soothes him, praises the pathetic accomplishment, so Eddie tries again, just one word. One word at a time.
“The mall.”
Two words. And Steve’s steady breaths. He can do this. His hand’s held still by Steve’s while the rest of him’s still shaking but: he can do this.
For Chrissy.
“Before, the other times,” Eddie bites out and screws his eyes shut because he can see it either way, and he needs to kind of hide a little, even if it doesn’t change anything, if he’s gonna get it out, if he’s gonna say it and make it real so he can’t take it back:
“Did people ever…float?”
Steve’s hands still, and Eddie swears he can feel Steve’s heart trip for just a second before it starts beating a little harder but: never once, not once, does Steve breathing falter. It’s a steady throughline for Eddie to keep following even as his fear deepens because Steve’s still, tense against him now in a whole new way and Eddie tries, he tries so hard to lose himself in breathing, in Steve’s breathing, so deep he’d probably have missed it if he weren’t pressed so tight against that chest so as to hear the murmuring from inside more than out:
“Not yet,” Steve barely whispers as his hands start moving, stroking back and forth up and down Eddie’s spine; “have they started to?”
Eddie starts shaking a little harder. He’d been real fucking afraid of that.
It takes an hour, maybe closer to two, for Eddie to choke out the details. They’re bundled on the couch, Eddie with a water Steve insists he drink, and it probably makes sense because of how much he’s losing in fucking tears as he just, just sees her snapping in half and folding into, into—
It makes sense, needing hydration or whatever, but Eddie’s doesn’t trust himself not to sick up even a sip of it.
By the time he’s finished, he feels wrung out in ways he didn’t know were possible. Like the blood in him’s been squeezed out and he’s just a husk, but Steve.
Steve doesn’t stop holding the wrung-out husk of him. And that’s…that is something.
“That’s,” Steve finally starts, and his tone is different now from the placating soothing he’d kept up throughout Eddie’s recounting of the horrors, but the press of his lips to Eddie’s temple is still exactly the same.
Eddie feels something in him starting to ease, solely because of and solely possible for the way Steve holds to him, close and unwavering. He feels it before the words come out, the slight tension that hits Steve’s muscles and the dry catch of the breath in his chest before he speaks:
“Eddie,” and it’s a tone that Eddie doesn’t hear too often, but is still wholly familiar with for the most heartbreaking reasons, like when the nightmares had gotten too frequent and Eddie had been the one to cry when Steve clammed up and shook head to toe in Eddie’s arms because Steve was hurting that bad and wouldn’t tell him why, and how could Eddie help if Steve wouldn’t tell him why—
It’s the tone of voice that broke Steve’s NDA that night. It’s the tone of voice that finally explained why Steve went ramrod-still when a light flickered. It was the tone that explained, the first time they got high together, why Steve hadn’t smoked in months and why he was scared to try again and he wanted to face the fear of it but would Eddie, could Eddie just make sure, like—
It’s the same voice, now, so Eddie saves him the trouble, because that voice shatters Eddie’s heart to pieces, every time.
“It’s like Starcourt,” Eddie whispers, hoarse as hell and still watery, as if somehow unthinkably he’s got more tears to spare; “and like the tunnels, and the,” be swallows, and turns to look Steve in the eyes:
“The nail bat?”
The first time he saw that thing he was naive enough to think it was badass. After he learned what it was really for, he didn’t think it was less badass but. He actually processed the stains that wouldn’t come off as the wrong shade for being just rust.
“I think,” Steve breathes in deeper, the way that always hurts, and he looks so fucking apologetic when he exhales, as if it’s somehow his fucking fault:
“I think so.”
The words aren’t said like there’s any doubt in them, though, and maybe Eddie starts to spiral.
“They’re gonna think it was me,” he squeezes his eyes tight against the scene in his living room, that his uncle’s gonna find, fuck, fuck; “they’re gonna think I—”
And then Steve’s grabbing him above the elbow, spinning Eddie around to properly face him, then shaking Eddie just enough to demand his attention, as if the low growl that escapes him, that hits a note Eddie suspects both gods and devils raise up to take heed of:
“I am not gonna let anyone lay a fucking finger on you.”
And…and what’s Eddie even supposed to do, when Steve says it, when Steve uses that voice for him?
All he can seem to do is cover Steve’s hands so desperate, anchor that this man is for him, and close his eyes when Steve leans to press a kiss to the top of his head.
“There are people who clean this up,” Steve reaches to cradle Eddie’s head closer, to press lips behind his ear; “but they’re slow and they’re always too chickenshit to step in and take fucking responsibility while it’s all going down,” Steve’s tone is dry, so much judgement but his grip, his hold is somehow so comforting and firm at the very same time and Eddie thinks that’s why he feels safe, or almost, even as Steve eases him back, licks his lips, nods to himself and then kisses Eddie, full on the lips and hard, quick, before he pulls them both up to stand, links one hand in Eddie’s as he pulls him behind him as he walks through the house, quick and almost clinical:
“So here’s what we’re gonna do.”
The terms Steve lays out are…simple, if kinda terrifying not least for the fact that Steve has terms, because no one could think this up so quick on the spot under this kind of pressure, not to mention with the prompt of how to hide your boyfriend if he ends up wanted for murder, Jesus fuck—
“It was a plan to keep you safe, or us safe, or you and Wayne safe or,” and oh, oh Steve’s answering him, Eddie didn’t notice he was talking out loud. He can’t even blush for it, doesn’t think there’s enough blood to pool there when it’s still racing through his veins maybe not at top speed anymore, but: still making a sprint to the finish as they climb the stairs down instead of up, as Eddie follows Steve to a wall with a painting in the finished half of the basement, watches Steve lift the painting off its hanger and—
“You have a basement vault,” Eddie can…only state the obvious as he watches Steve go under the back of the frame of the painting and find a very evil-villain type of key, in this very evil-villain type of set up, and he blurts without thinking, save it’s kinda all he can think:
“Is one of your parents a serial killer?”
Steve at least snorts, at that.
“Probably closer to white collar criminal,” Steve shrugs as he swings open a pretty…small, ish, space behind the metal door, thicker than Eddie’d figured but definitely evil-villain style with it.
“It had a bunch of locked filing cabinets, like three safes, and the shelves went across this way,” Steve stretches his arms along the back of the vault and okay, yeah, less evil-villain, unless you count Reaganomics-style capitalism as a villain. Which Eddie does, but.
Not the point.
“Just all stacks of shit in folders that definitely seemed a hundred percent normal,” Steve deadpans, takes it in stride; Eddie’s always impressed with his boyfriend but fuck: he’s in goddamn awe of him in a whole new way, just now.
“When it became pretty clear they weren’t coming back any time soon, and even if they were, when,” Steve shrugs and crosses his arms, rolls his shoulders back in that way Eddie doesn’t think he even recognizes doing:
“When the end of the world started to be a recurring thing, I mean, that sure as shit beats out trying to hide your shady business dealings any day.”
He nods to himself, and glances toward Eddie, maybe for agreement or approval or moral support and Eddie’s got all that and more, hopes his own bobblehead-like nodding conveys as much. Steve smiles the tiniest bit and then dives back in, like all he needed was a little boost. A little tacit but undeniable love.
And…maybe that really was all Steve needed.
“It’s a tight squeeze, but,” he curls himself into the space, crouches to demonstrate; it’s not terrible, but it’s definitely the tight side of cozy; “needs must or whatever,” exactly, yes, right, and Eddie’s wiry; it’s more than fine.
“Essentials are all packed in for short term use,” he gestures at boxes of food, cans and an opener, firearms. Ammunition. Eddie swallows…harder than he should. He’s fired a gun before.
Just…one time at the air to scare off a coyote.
“I tried to get a plumber but,” Steve grimaces, forging on; “they said they’d need to dig the whole thing up and they can’t start until summer at the earliest,” more than implying that he was on the list and waiting for summer. This was…this was…
“You really went all in on this,” Eddie kinda marvels because…holy shit, you know?
Steve, because he’s Steve, just raises a brow and smirks a little.
“Well, duh.”
And Eddie grabs him, frames his face and just drinks him in before he kisses Steve so goddamn hard.
“God, I love you,” he breathes against Steve’s mouth as they start to pull away, linger just to taste each other on the exhale, before Steve pulls back, but reaches to keep Eddie’s hand in his, like a tether.
Eddie sure as fuck appreciates it.
“Key,” Steve holds up the fancy thing and taps the keyhole; “you lock it, then close it behind you,” and Eddie nods, seems straightforward enough; “I’m gonna put it with some of my keys upstairs, make it look innocent, but,” and Steve turns to him, gaze more serious than Eddie thinks he’s ever seen it.
“If you hear anything, you come down here. If you hear anyone but me, and I’ll call out and make sure you know if it’s safe, and that I’m alone, but if it’s anyone but just me,” and Steve squeezes his hand before letting go and maybe Eddie whimpers a little for the loss, but he tracks Steve with his eyes, almost unblinking.
“I want you to turn this here,” he points the key to the lock again; “hide the key under this part of the rug,” he lifts an area of carpet Eddie doesn’t think is meant to lift until he sees the concrete underneath and the groove that lets the key lie flat, unnoticeable; “then lock yourself in, and flip the deadbolt to make sure you’re safe,” Steve swings the door further open and toggles the deadbolt for demonstration; “so when it issafe, I’ll know from the keys upstairs where you are, and be down the second the coast is clear.”
Eddie nods, runs it through in his head—use key, hide key, climb into the vault, deadbolt the door, wait.
He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Steve’s palms are holding his own.
“Sweetheart,” Steve’s breathing out, sounds pained but then he’s stroking Eddie’s hair, tangling with a sweat-stuck curl, drawing Eddie’s forehead to his own to steady him, or try to as he promises:
“Baby, I’ve got you.”
And Eddie breathes, does his best to nod and not dislodge them from each other but Steve feels it, knows him, and pulls them chest to chest, wraps Eddie close so he can hide alongside Steve’s neck, feel the stray pump of his pulse where Eddie can feel anything outside his own sudden ramp back up toward hyperventilating, Jesus fuck.
“Do you trust me?” Steve’s suddenly breathing right against Eddie’s ear, and pulling Eddie’s hand, palm flat to his chest, filling the need he knows Eddie holds for the anchor, the rhythm he can tie himself to.
“Never thought I’d trust anyone, ever, like I trust you,” Eddie answers, steadiest as he’s been so far, as soon as he finds his voice to manage it. Steve presses his hand to his chest tighter, somehow holds him closer.
“I am going to keep you safe,” Steve vows, kisses Eddie’s hair and breathes in deep before he asks, his heartbeat still steady under Eddie’s hand but…stronger somehow:
“You love me?”
It’s a statement spoken like a question. Both and neither.
The answer’s the same either way.
“More than life.”
Steve nods, kisses Eddie’s temple now and pulls back only enough to look him in the eye as he cups his jaw and nods, takes in Eddie’s certainty and—
“Then no matter what happens, you won’t leave this house.”
Eddie stiffens, feels his jaw drop a little because, because…
“But—”
“And you’ll do exactly what I say while you’re in it, if something goes entirely fucking haywire and anyone tries to come for you here.”
And Steve’s eyes hold him so steady, so steely, so sure: because Eddie does love him. More than life. And…
And this is why Steve demanded spoken proof of the thing they both know.
“Dirty pool, Harrington,” Eddie bites out against Steve’s neck again, because…he’s so tired. And he feels safe here, against the man he loves, like…really loves. He…he’ll give in, for this man. Nobody else.
“It’s been closed all winter, so, yeah,” Steve sighs exaggeratedly, his chest lifting with it high, still under Eddie’s hand; “pretty dirty pool out there.”
Eddie can’t help how he snorts.
“Motherfucker.”
“Nope,” Steve shakes his head, tone dramatically lamenting; “I’m a deeply committed monogamist,” and Steve reaches, draws Eddie’s face from its hiding place and brings him within kissing distance:
“And I’m deeply committed to you, so,” and fuck him, fuck him for the way he runs a thumb so delicate, so tenderly down Eddie’s bottom lip, looks at him so lovingly, as if his nerves aren’t already fried enough without Steve making him fucking weak in the goddamn knees.
“But you’re going out there—” Eddie puts up a protest he wishes rang clearer, more forcefully—but he’s drained, and he’s starting to feel it hard.
“We know what we’re doing,” Steve tells him, not unkindly, not dismissively—tries like hell for reassuring, even. “And it’s not that I don’t think you do, or can. It’s not that I doubt you, you know that,” and fuck all: Eddie does.
He’s a coward and a hypocrite in a lot of fucking ways but. Not this one.
“But if they tie you to Chrissy,” Steve says so soft, treads so careful; “I need you safe,” and he’s right, he’s fucking right because Eddie ran, he ran from her body, and he—
“Because I can’t do my part to help stop this if my heart’s not in it all the way.”
Eddie frowns at that; doesn’t understand.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Steve’s smile tightens, goes thin but his eyes never waver.
“Because it’d busy worrying only about you,” and he’s honest to a fucking fault, like it’s obvious too, which Eddie’s own heart’s tripping twice on in a row and hard, just to hear it said so plain and adamant. “If you’re out there, even with us, you’re vulnerable.”
“I can take care of—” Eddie starts, but Steve’s thumb’s back on his lip: dirty fucking pool.
“We don’t do that anymore,” Steve whispers, and it’s the first time his eyes look less than sure as he breathes out: “do we?”
And fuck, fuck: that’d been Eddie’s line. That’d been Eddie trying to soothe Steve, to learn his secrets in the first place in order to help, or at least try. They don’t…they don’t have to take care of themselves alone.
“Please, Eddie,” Steve whispers, too low and almost toneless for it, in order to count as begging. But.
Steve’s got him. His own words. His whole heart. Fuck.
“Okay.”
And Steve looks at him, studies him without breathing almost to the point of concern, like he’s looking for the lie but there isn’t one. Eddie…for Steve.
Eddie can do this for Steve. He will do this for Steve.
And he gets a hell of a kiss for it, so. His efforts don’t go unrewarded.
Steve takes his hand again and leads him back up the stairs, sets him in a chair and kisses his head, keeps him as close as he can when he can’t hold him full-on while he makes a phone call that Eddie only hears on the periphery, makes out, hate to call so late, Mrs. Byers, but I just found out that, yeah, she’s taken a turn, and I know you were, yeah, exactly, Claudia will be a mess and, no, no, I think there’s time, just, if you still wanted, I think it’s probably a good idea to try and get here? Sooner rather than later, yeah, then he’s hanging up and Eddie’s watching him almost desperate with wide eyes he can’t seem to close, and Jesus fuck , he’s losing it again, he can’t stop shaking—
“Eds.”
And Steve’s there, pulling Eddie up but he’s a puppet with his strings cut; he falls right back to the chair and Steve guides him down to it, settles him again before he bends, kneels and takes both his hands.
“We’re gonna get some rest, okay, even if it’s just cuddling in bed, even if we can’t get to actual sleep we’re gonna get some rest,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hands until he nods his understanding; “because I’m gonna go into work tomorrow like nothing’s wrong, okay?”
Eddie’s eyes go wide at that, not just for having to lose Steve at his side—he hates it but it makes sense, it makes the kind of sense that comes from absolute necessity—but he’s…what about Robin, or the kids, the people who know—
“You’re not gonna tell…”
“I’m not gonna risk it,” Steve answers immediately; “anyone could overhear and,” he shakes his hand and lifts Eddie’s hands to his lips:
“I’m not gonna risk you, understand?”
So Eddie follows him up the stairs, most of his weight on Steve so much that he may as well have been fucking carried, and neither of them sleep, but Eddie clings to Steve harder than he’s held on to anything, folded up small against his chest and it…it finally helps calm Eddie’s pulse a little, lets him soak Steve up like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.
He’s already fucking terrified it will be.
But alarms go off, and sunrise comes, and Steve gets dressed and ready, stopping to drop kisses to Eddie head, his face, his neck as he goes from the bedroom to the en-suite and back while Eddie stays safe in bed, and it’s really the only thing that makes Eddie sit up, when Steve’s out of sight too long for doing his hair, it’s just to…to keep him, a little longer.
He gets out of bed and follows Steve around like a puppy, wouldn’t even deny it, couldn’t ever regret it, as Steve moves some of the food from upstairs down to the basement in case you feel more comfortable down there than in the dark up here because of course everything’s closed up tight and Eddie nods, grabs Steve and holds him close to his chest when it gets overwhelming, which is…a lot, he does it a lot of times, almost gets stuck in Steve’s work vest for fear of letting go.
For fear it’ll be the last time.
“Week, week and a half’s usually the most this shit ever takes,” Steve’s saying as he ties his shoes in the living room—where normally shoes aren’t allowed at all and the gesture of it, the automatic shift for Eddie’s sake almost makes him want to cry again, he’s so keyed up, so fucking anxious; “and honestly, it’s not even that long, most times—”
“Steve,” Eddie’s voice fucking shatters just around his name because…because this is happening, Steve is leaving, and Eddie’s, Eddie is…
“Depends on what act of the larger shitshow we’re walking into,” Steve tries to power through, but he grabs Eddie’s hand and holds it tight once his shoes are laced.
Eddie holds on harder.
“I will leave messages if I can, I’ll say they’re for my parents. Obviously they’re not.”
Because obviously.
“If I have any instructions, any things we learn to make you safe, I will call. So make sure you pay attention, but never answer.”
“Stevie,” and in being reduced to only being capable of speaking Steve’s name, apparently, Eddie comes to the immediate realization that it’s fitting. If he was left only one word in the world, it should only be the most important one.
“Don’t start to worry unless we’re gone, like, two weeks,” Steve squeezes his hand and makes to stand, makes to let go but—
“I’m worried now,” Eddie’s voice is a whine, more because he can’t control it to make it more or less—he clings to Steve’s hand in his own so hard he knows his nails have to be digging into Steve’s skin but Steve doesn’t flinch even once.
“I wanna watch your back,” Eddie whispers, staring at their hands, memorizing what it looks like: them. Together.
“You wanna watch me swing the bat,” Steve points out, tries to lighten the mood a little and goddamn him: it’s only a little, but it does fucking work.
A little.
“Also that, yes,” Eddie concedes but sobers quick, because it’s…it’s leaden, it’s so big and he is, he’s—
“I’m so scared and I’m not even the one who deserves to be.”
And Steve: Steve lifts Eddie’s hand to presses lips to his knuckles before pulling himself up and into Eddie’s chest to tilt his head and kiss him full-on.
“If there’s a next time,” Steve speaks so his lips drag against Eddie’s with every word he says; “we’re gonna get you ready for it, and you’ll be by my side, because I’m scared to let you out of my sight.”
And it’s only then that Steve pulls back, just to slam them chest to chest and wind his arms around Eddie, and Eddie’s response is to immediately do the same, until their lungs are fighting to press into each other like one entity—and Eddie wouldn’t protest, if they could. He wouldn’t think twice, if it was a choice.
“But this is the safest place this time, if they’re looking for you. If they want to,” and Steve’s voice gives out, or maybe he just can’t say it: doesn’t matter.
They both know what he means.
“You gotta stay here,” Steve breathes a little broken, and a whole lot desperate. “For me. Okay?”
And for anyone else, Eddie would fight it. Hell, Eddie a year ago would have fucking railed at least a little, still. But…not just for what he’s seen, and what he knows has got to be out there—Chrissy’s asshole of a boyfriend’s anger issues might pose more of a threat than the half-a-brain cops in this town since Hopper…well; since Hopper—but he will do it. No one will know he’s here. And no one will see hide or hair of him.
“For you,” Eddie agrees, but he can’t leave it just there; “if you do something for me.”
“Anything,” Steve’s quick to commit without even a hint as to what lies next. “So long as it keeps you here.”
And Eddie…never thought he could be loved like this. Never thought he could love like this.
He can’t fucking lose it.
“Be careful,” Eddie says, like those words hold the world, and they kinda fucking do. “Like, for real, okay? Come back to me. Come back for me. Please.”
“I will,” Steve vows, like, Eddie feels it kinda in his bones.
“Steve,” he still pushes a little, because Steve…he’s heard the stories. Hell, he knows how they got together, he has proof on his own end, no interdimensional monsters involved.
“No, no,” Steve nods, like he can read Eddie’s thoughts almost, or maybe his face gives him away. “I get it. I just, I can’t…not be—”
“You?” Eddie finishes for him, a little resigned but a lot proud, whole-ass in love. “I wouldn’t ask you to not be you. I love you, all of you. But—”
“But I get it,” Steve nods, eyes a little too bright. “I won’t leave you like that.”
Then he’s quiet, like he’s thinking something weighty over, but only for a second before he ducks his head, but still speaks more like he’s sure of the words than anything less:
“Kinda want, like, forever with you, or something, y’know?”
Eddie’s heart goes to his throat, and his breath catches before it can try to fight around the pounding, and Eddie processes the words, lets them sink in before he rasps, a little watery:
“You mean it?”
Steve licks his lips but doesn’t hesitate to nod. Eddie’s breath shakes so fucking much when he tries to get any air in.
“Me too,” he barely manages to whisper but his heart’s still in his throat; the words are saturated with it by default. “Have for,” he exhales, and his lips curve up with so much relief, so much fullness in his chest; “for a while.”
“Same,” Steve murmurs low, his gaze fucking sparkling; “the whole ‘falling fast’ thing I tend to do?” He chuckles a little. “You’ve been like,” and he airplanes one hand into the waiting ring of the other with a whoosh: supersonic. Faster than light.
Eddie feels…Eddie thinks he might fucking burst, he doesn’t know how you survive this…this. He’s never known it before. It feels…
It’s like magic, he thinks—but real.
“Stay here,” Steve’s leaning into him again, speaking straight into his open lips, directly down to his heart. “Be safe. Please. For me.”
Eddie seals it, his agreement, his devotion, his everything, by closing his mouth, catching Steve’s lower lip in a kiss before he turns the tables, does the talking straight up against Steve’s soul:
“Go out there. Be a hero. But be a safe hero. Please. For me.”
And Steve doesn’t hesitate to tip his head and cradle Eddie’s in a single second, both at once and bring them together to kiss full-on, to lick deep, to be sure in each other, with each other.
To taste the vows received and made in the heartbeats between them.
“Love you, babe,” Steve breathes into him, just before he moves back.
“Love you,” Eddie sighs, chest still heaving, heart still hammering, terrified but full: “so fucking much.”
“I love you more,” Steve volleys, playful, maybe a little tight edged but…the love wins out.
Always.
“I love you most,” Eddie tops him, the practiced exchange landing in his favor this time as Steve pouts before his grin turns sly.
“I love you mostest,” Steve counters, victory clear in his gaze.
“I don’t think that’s a word,” Eddie huffs but it’s got no weight, doesn’t want any either.
“Is now,” Steve snips back through a smile that reminds Eddie why he’ll stay here, hiding; why Steve fights in the first place: at the end of the day, it’s this, isn’t it. It’s every shade and flavor of this.
“Then I love you more than even the mostest,” Eddie declares definitively before he kisses Steve hard, fast, commits it to memory and tattoos it on his ribs, before he leans his head to Steve’s and whispers:
“Robin’ll bitch if you’re late.”
And that’s how Steve pulls back, watches Eddie every second, goes through the garage so no one will see through the door, so he can keep their eyes locked as long as possible—
And then he’s gone.
<<< Part One ~or~ >>>want some more?
For @vegasol, who requested 'Secret Relationship' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST
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divider credits here and here
ao3 link here ✨
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