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sidekickjoey · 3 days ago

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Somethin' 'Bout a Truck

Rating: T | WC: 3,070 | Tags: Steve's new truck, pushing canon aside using S5 spoilers, Eddie Munson is stressed | read on Ao3

AN: RIP Eddie Munson, you would've loved Steve's new pickup truck.

Eddie first saw it on a lazy Saturday morning.

He was perched up top one of the new leather barstools in his and Wayne's brand-new house, idly plucking the strings of an acoustic guitar to drain the day away. Wayne was sat a little bit nearby, lounging on the couch with his eyes poured into the day's paper, his cup of coffee dutifully placed nearby. They'd both grown accustomed to mornings like this since moving in, when life finally quieted down and not as many people figured Eddie to be the spawn of Satan. They were nice. Peaceful.

Peace and quiet was not on the menu that morning, however, courtesy of the unmistakable rumble of an engine approaching just outside.

It sounded nothing like Eddie's old van, which wheezed with every breath, or Wayne's discount truck he snagged from the junkyard and refurbished after Eddie's fell through a portal to hell. This was deeper, heavier. Newer, and maybe built with better parts. Eddie set his guitar to the side.

"You expecting someone, ol' man?" He asked in the general direction of Wayne, sitting up more and trying to crane his neck toward the window. Wayne shook his head, his brow furrowed.

"Nope. It's Saturday. See people every other day."

"Great." Eddie frowned. "Juuuust great. And I'm guessing it's up to me then to waltz out and check then, huh? Get to see if it's some fiesty little jock rolling up to finish what the bats started? Maybe a sweet old lady with a pitchfork or two?"

Wayne rolled his eyes but said nothing, giving him a little gruff grumble for good luck and to quit the dramatics, maybe. Waving him off with his hand, Eddie grabbed the bat he kept by the door -- an ironic choice, but a reliable one at that, he's come to learn -- and stepped past him to go outside. There, he was met with the sun glaring off a baby-blue and white truck parked right in the driveway. It was a brand-new Silverado, if he had to guess, with its engine still ticking as it cooled.

"What in the hell..." Eddie muttered to himself, stalking toward the vehicle. He got around almost to the passenger side when suddenly, the driver's door opened and stopped him short. To his absolute shock, awe, and dismay, none other than Steve Harrington popped out, his hair perfectly done up but completely outshined by an obscenely purple pattered top and the tightest jeans known to man.

"...Harrington?"

Steve’s grin was sheepish as he leaned against the doorframe. "Hey, Munson."

"I- What are you even doing here right now? And what is going on with that yee-haw looking truck of yours? Is it even yours? Don't tell me your folks got you another car out of the goodness of their hearts and wallets. I don't think I could be seen around you if that's the case."

Steve’s smile turned rueful. "Beemer's dead, actually. Got this one with my, uh, hush-hush money? Thought about replacing the old gal, but figured something more practical was probably the better choice for me now. Besides, the kids are like, way less likely to guilt me into driving their asses around town in this."

Eddie's fingers tightened on the bat. He raised his brow. "Practical, huh? How so, exactly? 'Cause as far as I know," he raised his brow and gently tapped the bat against one of the truck's tires, "this thing doesn't look so practical for your type of needs."

Face scrunching up, Steve kicked Eddie's bat away from the tire. "My needs?"

"You do realize you can’t get so hot and heavy in one of those, right?" Eddie gestured to the back of the truck. "Only two seats. That sounds like it'd go against your entire Steve Harrington code of conduct, no? Cause a little trouble with the ladies?"

Eddie's words dawning on him, Steve's smirk widened. He shrugged and leaned back against the doorframe, tossing a hand through his hair for good measure.

"I dunno about that. But, you’d be surprised what you can do with a flatbed, Munson."

Indeed, he would be surprised -- was, as a matter of fact, if the way his brain immediately turned to static was any indicator. If it wasn't, well, all of the thoughts his imagination quickly supplied soon after of how Steve could use a flatbed surely did the trick.

Like a damn cartoon, Eddie audibly gulped.

"Y-Yeah, okay Harrington," he dashingly replied back, tone sounding no different for a second than his thirteen-year-old self when he first inhaled helium from a baloon. "Whatever you say. Now, did you come here to tell me something, or did you just come over here to flaunt your amazing truck at me?"

Steve huffed, only to look down at his feet and give a small kick to his tire, too. He was wearing loafers, Eddie realized then. Freakin nerd.

"Wanna' hang later today? I'll bring snacks."

"Sure, sure," Eddie shrugged, casually waving his hand in the air like the thought didn't send him into hysterics. "Tempt me from my dungeon with your snacks and promises of company after waving your new treasure in my face, oh Lord of Hair."

Steve snorted shook his head. "I'm taking whatever that was as a yes and getting outta' here before I have to hear any more. See ya' later, man."

With one last incredulous look back, Steve slid right back into his truck, turned his key in the ignition, and drove off from whence he came in his new baby blue ride.

Eddie, he's proud to admit, waited all the way until he turned the corner out of sight to scream and barrel past Wayne's cozy setup over to his room.

Wayne sighed, his morning over.

Later that night, Eddie took Wayne's place on the couch.

He had realized moments after his sheer panic in his bedroom earlier that he and Steve never quite mentioned a time for when they would hang. To stop himself from cringing at how stupid that was, and how nervous not knowing when the guy would show up was going to make him, he'd moseyed on over to Wayne's usual spot and thrown on the TV. He flipped through anything to help get him by -- infomercials, the news, even those static channels that make the TV screen feel weird. Whatever worked and got Steve out of his head, he was determined to find it.

He'd just gotten through his third channel playing reruns of Andy Griffith when a knock at the door startled him.

It was Steve. It just had to be him -- no bat needed.

Shutting off the TV, Eddie scampered to the door to meet him. He allowed himself ten seconds of panicking some more and checking his hair in the hall mirror before finally being a big, grown man and opening the door to face his friend.

Opening it, he quickly realized he should've taken much, much more time than ten seconds. There was Steve Harrington, looking insufferably confident in his outfit from earlier, holding a picnic basket in one hand and a blanket in another. It was a sight worthy of cardiac arrest. Eddie gulped, fearing that fate to soon fall upon him.

"Harrington," he said slowly. "What...are you doing?"

Steve held up the basket. "Proving a point."

"A point about what, exactly?"

"The truck," Steve said simply, stepping backward toward the driveway. "C'mon, I'll show you."

Bewildered, Eddie followed him out and over to the truck. There, Steve jumped into the flatbed ahead of Eddie and made quick work to spread out the blanket he brought there for him. Eddie's heart did a little involuntary flip at it once he saw it all spread out, as well as when Steve began pulling out entire candles to light up the place, their soft glow casting shadows on the sides of the truck and his stupid, perfect face.

"You’re insane," he lamented, despite putting no heat into it. He climbed in to join Steve then, sitting cross-legged on the blanket as the guy unpacked sandwiches, fruit, and what looked like homemade cookies from his little basket. Upon further inspection, Eddie's heart lurched to see they were his favorite kind -- snickerdoodle.

"See?" Steve said, handing Eddie a sandwich. "Perfectly practical and useful. Very romantic too, no?"

Eddie took the sandwich, unable to stop himself from shaking his head with a small grin. "Are you sure you didn't get hit in the head again when giving the Beemer a good ol' Viking funeral, Harrington?"

"Nope," Steve affirmed, popping the p and diving in for a mouthful of sandwich -- PB&J, if Eddie's eyes didn't deceive him again in the candlelight. "Very open head, clear thoughts."

"If only your mouth was that open."

Eddie paused, watching the mouthful of PB&J Steve had slow to a stop. Embarrassed, he quickly looked away, ears burning hot. Steve swallowed and let out a laugh, one of those big, booming ones stifled only by a few coughs here and there.

"That did not come out right."

"See, told ya'. Lots of game to still be had in the back of a flatbed."

Eddie's blush deepened. Nervous, he reached for one of the cookies, making quick work to smash it in his mouth and keep himself from making any other stupid comments. It was good timing too, because Steve proceeded right then and there to turn things up a notch a thousand fold, humming one of Eddie's favorite songs at the moment and making so many noises of approval between bites of his sandwich.

Finally, snickerdoodle gone and his mouth threatening to water, Eddie let out an exasperated huff and threw his hands in the air.

"Okay, fine! You've shown me the light, Harrington! You can wine and dine someone here! You don't have to keep being all...like that anymore."

Steve titled his head, his gaze steady. "Like what, Eddie?"

"Like what, he says." Eddie laughed, beside himself. "Did you not hear yourself eating, man? I've heard actual couples sound less satisfied. That was borderline illegal. My ears are scandalized, thoroughly."

Amused, Steve set aside his sandwich. "That all?"

"That ALL? What about the way you're out here singing my favorite songs, making my favorite cookies? I'm proved, okay! You don't need to keep trying to win me over, it's fine. Your truck hasn't completely rendered your game useless. Or groove, I guess." Eddie winced. "Whatever your types call it these days."

Steve nodded, contemplative. Then, he shifted closer, the playful confidence he'd been sported suddenly replaced with something softer, yet somehow more sinister. Eddie's heart rate picked up.

"If you're done, there's one other thing you forgot that I still need to test."

Eddie faltered, swearing he saw Steve's eyes flicker down to his lips and a hint of mischief enter his gaze. God help him. He was so doomed. Utterly, put-him-in-a-casket doomed.

"H-Huh?"

"I mean, sure, you approve of the setting," he continued, looking around at the little setup he'd prepared for them. "You seem to approve of the food. But I believe you said something about getting hot and heavy. What about that?"

Eddie’s breath caught. His usual bravado scrambled to make an appearance, only to get sumo-smashed and kicked in the ribs by the absolute fluttering monster that was his anxiety. "I-I was just being a piece of shit."

"Your point still stands though," Steve replied after a moment to consider, shrugging a little. "Maybe I want us to find out what this baby's capable of together."

To Eddie's absolute shock and dismay, it was in that second that Steve chose to lean closer and rest his hand lightly on Eddie's knee. How a feather-light touch such as this managed to hold so much magnitude and heat, Eddie'd never know. What he did know, though, was that Steve's face was coming closer to his at a rapid pace, and he had about two seconds to act before the guy did something he most certainly would regret with him for the sake of a stupid car and a stupid comment and a stupid, stupid boy.

Quickly, ungracefully, Eddie jumped back and out of the way. A few of the candles nearly fell in the process, making for a lovely near-heart attack. He didn't dare look at him, but Eddie could hear Steve mumble something confused at his side as Eddie scrambled to right them all in place.

"Hold up!" he stammered out, holding up his hands once every candle was accounted for. "Hold the fuck up! Ha ha ha, no. Look, Harrington, I appreciate your all-in bravado here and commitment to the bit. I really do, trust me. That kind of shit gets the twerps leagues ahead in campaigns. But I know we both don’t need you doing something you really don’t want to do just to prove some dumb point about a truck. Seriously, I'll take whatever rumor you want me to make about this baby and run with it. I'll swear up and down that it is the hottest spot for couples next to goddamn Vegas if you'd like. Name your price, I'll pay it."

Steve looked at him for a long beat. Then, fixing his hair a bit, he cornered Eddie with a hell of a gaze and asked, completely serious, "Did I say that?"

Eddie froze.

"Excuse me?"

Steve inched closer again, his voice low and steady. "Did I say I didn't want to do anything? Because I don't exactly remember that."

Eddie shook his head. "N-No, you didn't, but you aren't...but I'm not... girls!"

Steve huffed. "Girls?"

"You like them," Eddie blurted out back, heart stuttering. "I'm not one. The, uh- the test mentioned girls. I mentioned girls. Faulty logic. No can do."

"You only mentioned them after your little test," Steve replied, damn him, "but even then. Eddie, look at me."

Eddie did, only to be hit with a massive sucker-punch of feelings by the sudden intensity in Steve's eyes.

"Think about all this for a sec. Take two seconds, and think with me," he said, way-too-calm about it for Eddie's liking. "I showed up at your house. I asked to hang out, which you agreed to. I then made you a picnic in the back of my truck with your favorite snacks, like you said, and hummed some of your favorite music. I lit candles for you. Does it sound like I'd be opposed to something more after that? Like I'm not serious?"

Eddie short-circuited. "I-I thought that was for the truck test."

"Partly, yeah, but maybe also I've been looking for an excuse to do something like this for a while, maybe take you somewhere and see where things went, and the truck was the perfect way to work up some nerve to do it. Ever think about that?"

Eddie’s brain did the equivalent of twenty somersaults in two seconds in response. Verbally, all he could muster was a very shaky, very unsure, "You… you’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Steve said, his hand now gently cupping Eddie’s cheek. "But if you don’t want that, i-if I've read this and the last however many stupid months of us going back and forth completely wrong, just say the word and I’ll stop. I'll back off and we can just eat the rest of this stuff. Maybe have a laugh about this sometime later. Get high. I dunno. I'll have Robin think something up for me."

The funny thing was, Eddie wanted exactly none of that. It took all but three seconds of thought for him to come to that conclusion too, when Steve was looking at him with those big chocolatey eyes of his and offering to literally make his dreams come true with no conditions attached. Sure, he'd probably have to have others swear up and down for him that he didn't dream this up, or have Steve sign documents and shit to prove he won't turn around and use this against him as some big 'gotcha' moment, but right then and there? Eddie was happy to comply. Dammit, he would comply.

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed Steve by the shirt collar and closed the gap between them. The resulting kiss was electric, if not a bit sloppy at first because of the suddenness of it all and Steve's surprise. When Steve settled in though, and when Eddie felt himself finally gaining a bit of confidence too, it turned positively electric. It was all heat and tenderness and Steve, Steve, Steve rolled into one, far surpassing any of Eddie's previous dreams of the guy.

His hands soon found a home on Steve's shoulders, gripping tightly as the world titled off its axis around him. Steve lips responded in kind, soft but insistent and trying their damnedest to live up to their hype.

When they finally pulled apart, Eddie stared at Steve, his chest heaving and his mind absolutely blown. Steve, the bastard, grinned back at him with flushed cheeks and loads of confidence. Eddie wanted to kiss it out of him. Instead, he leaned back and released him from his grasp with a laugh.

"Okay," he conceded, holding his hands up again. "Fine. Fuck. The truck passes."

Steve let out an adorable giggle, tossing his head back. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're the freakin weirdo who used his new pickup truck as a goddamn pickup line on me," Eddie fired back, full of mirth. "Who told you to make that play? Robin? Wait, no, scratch that. She'd never do something like this. She's smarter than that."

"Hey!"

"I mean, you give a guy leagues worth of material, nerd shit and catalogues of music, and he goes for the freakin' car-"

"It worked, didn't it?"

Eddie met Steve's gaze. For good measure, he flicked at Steve's nose, earning him a tiny yelp and -- friendly -- shove his way. ''You tell anyone it did, and I'll never let you hear the end of it. Okay? I'll tell the kids, the Bird, everyone."

Impossibly fond, Steve recovers and flashes one of his signature all-too-caring smiles. "Fine, you have yourself a deal. IF, that is, you stay and finish up this meal with me."

Reaching for another snickerdoodle, Eddie grinned and tapped it against Steve's cheek. "Make me more of these and I'll stay here forever, big boy. Car or no car."

The End.

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