#steddie spooktober

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 24 for @steddie-spooktober, Pumpkin. I'll just finish this hellish month and then write all the good Halloween-y stuff when people already look forward to Christmas. There.

"Oh my god. That's Eddie Munson!"

Steve's eyebrow did that treacherous twitch. Here we fucking go again.

Robin just snickered. "Oh wow. That's like what, the fifth one today?" She didn't even look sorry for Steve, the traitor! She just kept making the coffee order, creating a lovely heart in the milk foam.

The woman who ordered the coffee didn't even bother to try and whisper to her friend. She was squealing and pointing at the unsuspecting rock star who had earphones over his head. "What do you think he's reading? It must be something dark. He has a reputation, you know."

Another twitch in Steve's eyebrow, but he was a professional. It was fine. He could do his job even when annoyed. Maybe.

Robin flipped the whiteboard with their seasonal specials. The other side revealed a meticulously prepared game of Eddie Munson-themed bingo. "Wanna play, Steve?"

He scowled at the board. All of those were classics, the stupid shit people say when they meet a rock star like Eddie Munson.

He took an erasable marker and scribbled X next to the questions, comments and other atrocities he managed to catch.

I wonder if he'll show me that special tattoo if I ask nicely. Check.

I heard he's unforgettable in bed. Check.

People say he has a...you know. A piercing down there. Check.

I don't believe the rumors. A guy like that can't be taken for long. He was made to sleep around. Check.

I wonder what he's drinking. Probably something dark and bitter. Mmm, how mysterious!

"Bingo!" whispered Robin. "Now, as per the rules of this humble establishment, once we have a bingo, you get to go there and be a bitch. Do your worst, oh platonic soulmate of mine. I'll be watching."

Who was Steve to deny Robin one of her favorite hobbies? He fluffed his hair and re-applied his lip oil, arranged some pastries on a kitten-shaped plate and made his way to Eddie Munson.

Eddie was lost to the world, but there was a familiar pattern in Steve's footsteps, one that reverbated through the wooden floor. In a second, Eddie had dropped his book and gave Steve the widest smile. One that he couldn't even conjure up on stage. This smile was only for Steve, and Steve fucking hoped the women noticed that.

Eddie made grabby hands at him, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Is your shift over, Stevie? Can we go?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, two more hours to go. Ish. Are you sure you don't want to wait for me home? You must be tired."

"Tired?! Pffft. I mean, yeah, but I want to spend time ogling my boyfriend when he's at his sexiest - covered in flour and sugar. And speaking of sugar..." He glanced at the plate. "Is that for me?"

Steve laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Honestly? Even if it wasn't, those doe eyes of yours would persuade me in a second. But yeah. It'll be Halloween soon, and I was testing out some spooky cookies. Do you like pumpkins?"

Eddie gasped and clutched his heart. "Do I?!"

Steve kissed Eddie on the top of his head and put his earphones back on. In a few seconds, Eddie was back in his own world, book, music and cookies.

In a corner of his eye, Steve saw the two young women, speechless. Robin was serving them their coffees, giddy with anticipation. She'd prepared them in to-go cups, just in case.

Steve stood in front of them, flipped his hair and smirked. "Well, ladies. You've had many questions or guesses, and I'm happy I can answer them. You know. To give you some peace of mind" He nodded to Robin. "The list, Rob?"

Robin glanced at their bingo board. "I wonder what he's reading!" she read out.

Steve nodded and returned to the frozen guests. "The book to end all books. That's what Eddie calls the...uh. Tolkien bible thingy. Silmarillion." He pronounced it gery carefully. "He reads it to me sometimes, when I can't sleep. Works like a charm." He might have smirked at the blush creeping up the woman's face. "Next."

Robin saluted him. "Special tattoo?"

"He won't show it, I made him promise he'd no longer get arrested for public indecency. Besides, it's only me that gets to see it. Next."

Robin fake gagged. "Is he unforgettable in bed?"

"Sure is. He talks to my chest hair. I think they're a couple."

Robin gagged again. "Why...ladies, get better questions! That piercing down under?"

Steve snickered. "Very real. Very...effective." He sneaked a glance at Eddie. Sexy and charismatic, yes, but more importantly warm, happy and home.

In a sing song voice, Robin got to the next point. "Is he really taken?"

"Take a guess," Steve winked at them. Or at least tried to, because the customers were already halfway out of the door with their coffee cups, and a very generous tip left on the counter.

"Aw," muttered Robin. "Shame, I thought these two would last longer. It's been ages since someone lasted the full Munson reverse bingo."

Steve laughed and helped her clean the table. "Would a pumpkin cookie console you?"

"Only if I don't have to hear about your bedroom rituals ever again," she said and reached for a cookie. "Or at least until the end of the shift."

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 16 prompt : ‘Would you please stop trying to scare them?’

rated: G | cw: none | tags: kids Eddie and Steve, Wayne Munson

🐉 🐉🐉🐉

‘Eddie, kid, calm down.’ Wayne says calmly with his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

He has to try something, that’s the fourth kid Eddie sent running screaming. Each time was after he showed off his dragon roar, mouth wide open through the face hole of his cardboard headpiece.

‘Would you please stop trying to scare them? Or, just, not so hard yeah?’ Wayne takes Eddie’s hand. The boy skipping unawares next to him down the street.

Wayne chuckles to himself, his nephew might be a handful but the kid is just too damn cute to not get away with it.

‘Oh! I’ve seen you!’ Eddie shouts, pulling away from Wayne and sprinting up to a boy sitting alone on the curb. He’s dressed like a mummy, sort of, wrapped up in toilet paper and with what looks like lipstick dotted around his face.

‘In the woods! We played castle remember?’ Eddie says to the boy loudly.

The kid looks startled, eyes flicking from Wayne to Eddie and back again.

‘Stevie? This is m’uncle Wayne.’ Eddie says sitting down beside the boy and finally lowering his voice.

The boy looks up at Wayne one last time before turning fully to Eddie. Lip trembling and eyes going all big. ‘I, I dunno where Sarah went Eddie! M I, M’scared!’ He wails, scooting forward as Eddie’s little arms come around him.

‘Who’s Sarah son?’ Wayne asks, crouching by the two boys and pulling out a hanky.

‘M’babysitter, but she just went away!’ Steve cries, still distressed and Wayne hushes him as he wiped at his face. Eddie’s now holding hands with him tightly, a look on his face like you couldn’t get him to let go for anything.

‘Ok kid.’

‘Stevie.’ Eddie corrects.

‘Ok, Stevie, do you know the way to your house from here?’ Wayne asks.

Stevie nods, wiping at his runny nose with his sleeve.

‘So you come with Ed and me now, yeah? We’ll get you back home and you can wait for Sarah there, okay?’

‘Can we stop at houses on the way?’ Eddie asks, sitting up all exited. The reminder of candy has both boys smiling at each other.

‘Don’t see why not. But we’re heading towards Stevie’s house okay? Don’t want anyone worrying.’ Wayne mediates. He’ll be giving Sarah an earful to be more careful that’s for sure. But he can’t help be a little relieved that Eddie managed to make one friend tonight.

Wayne manages to wrangle the two boys up and in the right direction, falling a step behind. Eddie still hasn’t let go of little Stevie’s hand.

‘I’m a dragon. I can roar just like one wanna see?’ Eddie asks.

Stevie nods, stopping to turn his full attention to Eddie.

Eddie roars, free hand up like a claw and voice as loud as he can make it.

Stevie just stands there, once it’s over he covers his mouth and giggles.

Eddie giggles back.

Wayne’s heart about damn near bursts.

🐉🐉🐉🐉

Tag list : @scoops-aboy86 @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

[fuctacles]

bonding activity

For @steddie-spooktober prompt "can you please stop trying to scare them?" | 1427 | T | getting together, fluff, post-canon | brainstormed with @blasvemous | Ao3 | ko-fi

more spooktober: witch

"Steve."

Steve doesn't react. He's standing by the dirtiest window Eddie's ever seen, peeking from behind a curtain to see the groups entering the house. 

"Steve!" Eddie hisses insistently.

"What?!" Steve snaps back. 

Eddie widens his eyes at him. 

"We should get into positions," he reminds his friend as if they haven't been doing this for over a week now. 

"Mhm," Steve nods absentmindedly, eyes back on the outside. "You do that."

"Are you waiting for Henderson again?"

"Maybe."

Eddie groans, stepping back towards him. They have about ten minutes before the next group walks in, even more before they get to this part of the haunted house.

"Could you please stop trying to scare him? This house is the same every year, and this kid fought Demogorgons, why do you care about stupid fair attraction?" he presses, crossing his arms. 

"It's kind of my duty as an older brother," Steve points out, sparing him a short glance. "Besides, his attitude has been insufferable lately. Gotta teach him a lesson."

That, Eddie could agree with. Henderson has been a little shit about their current gig, talking all cocky about how it was 'entertainment for little kids' and they wouldn't have to do much. Eddie took scaring kids very seriously, thank you very much. 

He was also grateful for the scheme Steve and Robin had pulled to get him the job. It was a small thing, but enough to start getting on the good side with the residents of Hawkins. And also a good way to spend time with Steve, his new and unlikely friend. Eddie reminds him of that, too.

"We were supposed to be bonding," he pouts.

"We'll be bonding after I make Dustin pee his pants," Steve responds shortly, making Eddie scoff. But seeing how unwavering Steve is in his plan, he sighs and steps right into his personal space.

"Promise?" he asks, jabbing a finger into his ribs. 

Steve jolts, but it has the desired effect of getting his attention back on Eddie. He grabs his hand to push it safely away from his body, his eyes finally focusing on his friend and softening. 

"Yeah, man, I promise."

"Great. Because I actually like it here, which I didn't think I'd say about a legal job." Steve snorts softly. "I guess it's fun to work with a friend."

"Yeah," Steve finally smiles fully. "It is."

"And I know you'd rather be doing it with Buckley, but—"

Steve cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

"Don't be stupid dude, even the bestest of friends need some time apart. And it's a blast working with you. The way you made that dude cry yesterday? Fucking priceless." He grins. 

Eddie grins back. 

"Yeah, love how he grabbed onto his wife."

They burst into snickers until a girl rushes past them, reminding them to get into positions. Eddie salutes, and parts with his dear friend. 

"Please think about me fondly. I will miss you dearly," he sighs deeply, caressing Steve's bicep. 

Steve plays along, reciprocating his longing gaze.

"I am missing you already, darling," he says, pressing a phantom of a kiss onto his hand. 

Eddie snickers and skitters away towards his post. For the sake of the job and his sanity. 

Eddie's determined to keep Steve's attention on himself instead of people-watching. Maybe constantly bothering him isn't the best course of action but stick to what you know, right?

"You're putting a damper on my fun, Harrington," he says behind Steve's shoulder as he's eyeing the outside. 

"I know. I'm sorry." And he sounds genuinely regretful. Like his resolve is slowly falling apart, the point of childish games with his brother slowly getting forgotten. 

"You know, you would scare him if you'd just put effort into all of the groups . Keep it at one hundred and you won't miss."

"Yeah, but that's tiring," Steve whines. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"Oh my god, you're such a princess," he mutters. 

"I'm not." Steve frowns, offended.

"Yes, you are." 

Steve already knows there is no point in arguing with Eddie, so he only glares his way. It's not a huge win, but at least he's not looking out the window. Eddie pushes toward victory. 

"And you could be having fun, too, if you weren't so focused on Henderson. I, for one, take pride and joy in my craft of making kids pee their pants," he says with reverence, hand pressed to his chest. 

Steve raises his eyebrows. 

"Yeah, and how many times have you managed that?"

"Zero, but I'm still enjoying myself! And I made one girl faint!"

Steve snorts. 

"Yeah, you'd be proud of that."

"Well, not all of us can do that without the help of a horror setting." Eddie rolls his eyes. "Which, you could be using to your advantage too," he points out, capturing Steve's attention enough to maneuver him away from the window. "You scare a girl, then you take her to a quiet corner to calm her down, a perfect crime!" he throws his arms up but upon seeing Steve's frown, he backtracks. 

"Well, not a crime, of course, but a little, uh, harmless mischief," he amends with an innocent smile. 

Steve's shoulders sag as he sighs.

"Yeah, that was kind of my whole point of doing this. But it's harder than I thought," he says with a wince. 

"Since when?" Eddie frowns in confusion. "I mean, yeah, your game has been off, but you always went for it anyway. Which, I respect as fuck by the way. I could never." He lets out a small, humorless laugh. 

The room falls silent and when he looks up again, Steve is looking straight at him.

"You should try."

"Yeah, probably," he shrugs, but Steve remains unfazed. 

"I'm serious. Go for it." 

They engage in some serious staring competition that makes Eddie squirm, his whole skin itching. 

"Dude, what are you—"

"Have we not been flirting this whole time?" 

Eddie blinks. 

"Uh."

"I wanted this job so we could be alone for once."

"Uh."

"And I'm sorry for getting distracted with the Dustin thing, but I'm back on track now." Finally, his confidence wavers. "That is, if we're on the same one, you know. I might have completely misread the situation."

Eddie shakes his head. 

"No, no. I was, uh, same track, page, yeah," he pulls a strand of hair over his reddening cheeks, but none of them moves. 

"Sooo, are you going to, or am I supposed to—"

"Oh, what the Hell," Eddie mutters, grabbing onto Steve's shirt to pull him forward. He places a lightly off-center kiss on his lips and can feel the body under his palms sagging with relief. 

Steve hums softly. 

"And you said my game was off," he mutters against his lips. 

"Oh, you little shit." Eddie smirks dangerously before he presses in without his previous hesitance. If Steve wants to play, Eddie's good at making up his own rules. 

They find a wall to rest against, and Steve's hand has just ventured to Eddie's ass when an ear-piercing shriek makes them jump apart. 

"What! The fuck!" They can hear Dustin's voice, but he's trying to blind them with his flashlight, so his face stays hidden until the rest of the gang joins him. Someone's light shows his pale, shell-shocked expression. 

"Why are you molesting my brother?!" He points accusingly at Eddie. "And you!" He turns to Steve, still braced against the wall. "You were groping my DM!"

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"Please, I barely touched him," he scoffs. 

"Yeah." Eddie crosses his arms to show his disappointment. "Because you so rudely interrupted."

"Ew! Ew ew ew ew ew!" Dustin covers his ears and moves forward, almost running into a wall in his haste to escape. The rest of The Party follows, though much calmer. Lucas even stalls behind to give the two older boys a thumbs up. 

"Congrats." He grins before disappearing after his friends. 

"Well..." Eddie trails off once the sound of distressed Dustin fades away. "I'd say we scared him pretty well, so, mission accomplished?" He smiles, throwing finger guns to sell his point better. 

"Two missions, even." Steve smiles back, motioning him to come back closer. 

"Two birds, one stone. Very time-saving of us." Eddie happily returns to his place in the other's orbit, which also means his ass is reachable again.

"We could go for two birds one hand later?" Steve offers, but all it does is make Eddie laugh loudly. 

"Holy shit, you truly have no game, Harrington! You're lucky I dig it." 

[katyawriteswhump]

bride of frankenstein

for @steddie-spooktober day 25 'Frankenstein Friday'" & day 24 'pumpkin' @stevieweek 'I don't know about this one...' and @steddiemicrofic October prompt, 'dress'

Rating T | 350 words | transfem!Steve, steddie, fluff, attempt at humour | no content warnings.

In the costume-hire store, Eddie and Robin were arguing over Eddie’s Frankenstein’s monster costume and make-up.

Stevie was browsing the racks. She’d already chosen a pumpkin outfit, from which her head poked like an orange turtle, capturing her vibe of late. Since switching gender in small-town Hawkins, she’d favoured baggy, neutral clothes.

Usually.

She pulled out a slinky, silky white dress labelled, “Bride of Frankenstein,” and scooted into the changing cubicle.

She ditched the ugly beehive wig, then shimmied into the mid-thigh-kissing halter-neck gown—damn, she’d need her padded bra. She twirled in front of the mirror: “Okay, I don’t know about this one. You can see my whole panty-line in it.”

While her ass looked great, the clingy fabric also rode up her crack. Not ideal to take kids trick-or-treating.

“Can we come in?” sang Robin. “Your boyfriend has finally accepted Mary Shelley’s monster was pus-yellow with no neck-bolt.”

Eddie slipped through the curtains and gaped, genuinely in need of his monster jaw-bandage: “Tell me you’re wearing that tonight?”

“In your dreams,” said Stevie.

In my dreams.

Later, after chaperoning, they hit the party trail. At the final stop, Eddie opened his van’s rear-door for Stevie. Her pumpkin suit didn’t fit in the front.

“You finished changing, Babe..? Wow!” 

Stevie, wearing the white dress and lace-spiderweb stockings, took his hand and gracefully alighted. Their lingering kiss was inevitable, removing most of her lipstick and the remnants of his yellow face-paint. Eddie broke it and sighed: “It’s Chrissy’s no-costume chillout party, Babe. You can’t go in like—”

“I’m Stevie Harrington wearing a dress that’d terrify her mom. No costume.”

“Agree,” interjected Robin. “Bride of Frankenstein, my tits!”

She disappeared inside. Steve lifted her curling hair from her neck, whispering, “Don’t tell Robin or Chrissy, but I’m keeping the choker with the neck-bolt on.”

“Christ, you’re sexy.” Eddie nuzzled her throat, hands sliding to caress her butt. “No panty-line?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She smirked and leaned in, lips ghosting against Eddie’s ear: “You better get me out of this dress before midnight, or I might turn back into a pumpkin."

Tags: @wheneverfeasible ❤️❤️❤️❤️

My fic on AO3

[runraerun]

ao3 • 6.1k • @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt: “Where did you find that costume?” • beta: @netflixandchilis 🧡🖤

Summary:

“This is not a sex costume.” Steve rolls his eyes, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a clown and you guys would accuse me of—”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows afterward.

His entire cop costume is suddenly off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson.

Or, unbeknownst to Steve, he shows up to Eddie’s Halloween party dressed as a stripper.

*Knock knock knock*

Steve steps back from Eddie’s front door, then rocks back on the heels of his boots that he hasn’t fully broken in yet. He knows that technically, he could just stroll into the trailer—he’s done it before after all, but sue him; he’s feeling playful tonight. And if there’s one night a year you’re allowed to embarrass yourself a little in the name of shits and giggles, it’s Halloween, right?

Steve had drawn the short straw between the four of them and was saddled with babysitting duty earlier tonight. As usual, Steve thinks with an amused sort of bitterness. Always the goddamn babysitter…

He’d just finished dropping the kids all off at Henderson’s house for a sleepover, but this was after they had forced him to trail after the lot of them for what felt like an eternity while they filled their pillow cases up with sugary garbage. Steve’s fucking exhausted.

When no one answers the door, Steve steps forward again, delivering three sharp knocks in quick succession.

“Hawkins PD, open up,” he bellows, giving what he considers is a fairly decent Hopper impression.

Steve’s skin prickles against a sudden cool breeze. He hooks his thumbs into his belt and waits on the creaky front porch, trying not to squirm against the wedgie that this outfit seems determined to give him.

Cheap ass costume…

The front door swings open, and Steve is suddenly bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the trailer’s interior. Robin, who has a football helmet on, along with some kind of orange jumpsuit with tubes wrapped around her torso, looks him up and down.

Before she can even say a single word though, Steve cuts her off, playing at arrogance.

“Got a couple of noise complaints, ma’am. Are your folks home? I’m gonna need—”

Robin holds her hands up with barely contained glee, “Wait wait, hold on! Just stay right there.”

The door slams shut in his face, leaving Steve in the darkness of the porch again. Through the door, Steve hears Robin yell for Eddie, but can’t make out much of the muffled voices after that.

Left on the porch with nothing but his thoughts Steve can’t help but wonder if Robin even recognized him. The fake stache wasn’t that convincing… was it?

“Man, c’mon…” Steve sighs, stepping forward and knocking again, this time with more force. He’s very quickly regretting his decision to ham it up as opposed to just walking in, kicking off the uncomfortable boots he’d been wearing all evening, and plopping down on Eddie’s lumpy, yet deceptively comfy sofa.

“C’mon, open up, Hawkins Police.” Steve calls again, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his voice.

In a blink, the door swings open again. Steve makes the extra effort to push his shoulders back and puff out his chest. This time, instead of Robin being the one haloed in the dingy light illuminating the trailer, it’s Eddie. A very confused, shockingly pale, cape-wearing Eddie.

Steve tilts his head back and peers down through his dark aviators at his friend, trying to maintain a stern, authoritative demeanor. His lip itches from underneath the stupid fake facial hair he’s got taped to his face. He can’t wait to rip the damn thing off.

Eddie grips the edge of the doorway, apparently stunned into silence.

“Sir, did you or anyone in this household place a call to 911 this evening?” Steve barks, trying his best to lean into his power-tripping asshole persona he’s decided to adopt.

“What the–” Eddie starts, but doesn’t seem to have any words to follow. His wide, dark eyes roam over the uniform and his twitching smile says enough.

Steve’s putting on a good show, it seems.

“Because it’s a criminal offense to prank call an emergency hotline, sir.” Steve leans forward, hoping for intimidation, “I could have you arrested.”

Steve suddenly becomes aware of Nancy and Robin both snickering in the background, watching the interaction with seemingly great interest. Eddie, for the most part, appears frozen at the door. It’s an odd bunch of reactions if Steve is being honest—he’s just dicking around, after all. Was he really being that out of pocket?

“Shteve, where in the fresh hell…?” A bewildered looking Eddie begins, his words slightly slurred, almost as if he has a lisp. Then Steve spots them; the sharp toothed plastic tray of vampire teeth that Eddie’s got stuffed into his mouth, making his lips pucker out just a bit. He looks ridiculous. If anyone should be laughing, it should be Steve. But instead of waiting for everyone to get their shit together, Steve forges on. He makes a show of sniffing the air. He slowly pulls the aviators down his nose to shoot Eddie a look. “Is that marijuana I smell, son? You kids smoking the devil’s lettuce in there?”

Robin sounds like she’s choking on something, Nancy’s all but retreated back into the trailer, unable to contain herself. Was it really that funny? Steve knows he can get the girls laughing on occasion, but he’s not like, a comedian or anything. And this cop bit he’s doing wasn’t even all that funny, even he can admit that. It’s just dorky fun. But Eddie’s shoulders are shaking and he’s giggling hard enough that he’s gone all quiet. Steve briefly wonders if he has something on his face…? Besides the stache, of course.

A particularly cool breeze hits his side, and he can physically feel himself break character as he brings his shoulders up to his ears in an attempt to brace against it. This cheap fucking costume does absolutely dick all to keep the cold out.

“Alright alright, jokes over, just let me in already.” But when Steve takes a step to pass through the door, Eddie quickly holds a hand to Steve’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. With his other free hand, he noisily pulls the vampire teeth from his mouth, a string of spit connecting the two until Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.

“Slow your roll, Sargent Cinnamon,” Eddie exclaims, barely able to contain his laughter to get the words out, “Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re gonna get the actual cops called on us.”

Sargent Cinnamon?

Steve takes off his aviators, perplexed. “What? Why?”

“Just—just turn around for me for a minute.” Eddie says. His hand falls from Steve’s chest as Steve begrudgingly takes a step back.

“Yeah, give us a spin, Steve.” Robin calls from the kitchenette, and Eddie gives a noisy laugh through his nose in what looks like a failed attempt to withhold a full on fucking belly laugh from escaping.

“Why?” Steve makes a face as he asks again, defenses up.

“We just have to confirm something.” Eddie says, playing coy.

Now that Steve’s really looking at him, he can see Eddie’s clearly dressed as a vampire. He’s all in black, though most of him is covered up by the long, heavy looking cape that’s tied around his shoulders and draping down his back. The collar of it looks stiff, its points reach damn near up to his cheekbones. His eyes are rimmed with dark makeup, making them pop even more than they usually do. Most striking of all though, is the white makeup that’s smeared all over his face, down his neck, and even over his mouth. It makes for a shock when he speaks or laughs, the deep red of the inside of his mouth contrasting sharply with the undead paleness of the rest of his face.

He looks… good. Spooky, but good. Especially now that those chunky fake fangs are out. Maybe Steve should have dressed as something spooky too…

“C’mon, just let me in. I don’t wanna spin.” Steve frowns. He does not pout. His lip may or may not jut out the tiniest of amounts. But Steve Harrington does not pout.

Eddie’s brows pinch together in mock sympathy, “oh, I’m so sorry Officer, but in that case, we’re gonna need you to come back with a warrant.”

Steve sighs. He’s cold, annoyed, and he’s pretty sure there’s two big watery blisters on the backs of his heels that’ll need patching up before the night is out. “Dude–”

Eddie holds out a finger, silencing Steve, “ah ah ah. You don’t get to show up here dressed like that and not put on a show.”

Steve’s brain stutters to a halt. “...I’m just dressed as a cop. What’s the big deal? Why’re you guys acting so weird?”

“Less yapping, more spinning, Deputy.” Eddie smiles wide, tilting his head. Despite being a total shithead at the moment, that smile never seems to fail at making Eddie look strangely endearing. It’s like a trap—one Steve always seems to be tumbling into as of late.

He gives a noisy groan of frustration to show exactly how ridiculous he thinks this whole thing is, before he complies and slowly turns around on the spot. Steve puts out his arms in defeat, suppressing yet another urge to dig at the wedgie now firmly up his ass. “There. Happy? Any more questions or demands?”

“Yeah, just the one,” Eddie says, seeming no less entertained than if Steve had just burped the whole alphabet backwards while simultaneously juggling a set of kitchen knives. “Where did you find that costume?”

Steve feels his neck go red, then his ears. He stuffs his hands under his armpits to try and warm them up, then shrugs defensively, not fully knowing why he is so embarrassed, only that he is. “Just a regular costume store.”

“What store exactly?” Robin calls from behind Eddie while she nurses a beer, “was there, oh, I don’t know, lingerie in the window of this costume store?”

And with that, there’s simply no helping it; Steve’s face goes scarlet. “No! It was just that pop-up Halloween store—the one next to Family Video. Robin, you went there too, what’s the big deal?”

“Did you happen to have crossed a beaded doorway in order to get to this costume by any chance?” Eddie asks in mock curiosity, barely withholding more of his obnoxiously loud laughter.

Steve opens his mouth to deny the downright weird accusation but… thinking back on it, he may have hit some beads at a certain point while he was in that shop.

Oh God…

“There’s that lightbulb,” Eddie gives a smarmy type of smile, “knew it would turn on eventually.”

Steve casts a glare between Eddie and Robin. They’re just poking fun at him, surely. If he’s being honest, he’s sort of sick of them ganging up on him lately. It’s like, all of the sudden, Eddie and Robin had just decided to become besties. They were always whispering and sharing these weird, heated looks between the two of them, ones Steve could never interpret. Like they suddenly had a whole slew of inside jokes that they refused to let Steve in on. It was infuriating!

If he didn’t know for a fact that there was no possibility of a romance between the two of them he would think they were hooking up. But no, apparently they’ve just bonded over their shared love of torturing ex-jocks. It’s like fucking Revenge of the Nerds out here.

“This is not a sex costume.” he growls, bunching his shoulders up just a little in an attempt to keep the breeze away from his neck.

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice goes soft, as if he’s opting to break the news to Steve gently, “you’re dressed as a stripper, man.”

“No, I’m not!” Steve shouts before he thinks better of it. He reels it in, but only a little, “It’s just… I’m just a cop. Okay, maybe it’s a sexy cop, but it’s just a stupid joke costume! It’s not my fault the outfit looks good on me, alright? That doesn’t make it a stripper outfit.”

Eddie nods empathetically, “right right, sure.”

“It’s true!”

“Totally, yeah.”

“I’m being serious!”

“Oh, I know you are.”

“It’s just a little tight is all.”

“I’ll say.”

Steve huffs, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a goddamn clown and you guys would accuse me of–”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows directly afterward.

The entire front of his cop costume is off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson. And without the support of the front piece, Steve feels the entire back half of his costume follow suit, slipping down and off of his shoulders. Humiliatingly, the only reason it doesn’t hit the ground altogether is because the fabric is so securely lodged in between Steve’s ass cheeks.

Either way, he’s standing there, on the Munson’s front porch, in front of Eddie, in nothing more than his bright red boxers that he put on this morning, his uncomfortable fucking boots, his fake stache, and the octagonal police cap he’s got resting atop his head.

Eddie takes a deep breath, not even bothering to try and hide the way he’s basking in Steve’s utter humiliation. “Well well well. Looks like Christmas came early this year, huh?”

Robin at least has done him the good favor of collapsing somewhere in the living room, shrieking in laughter.

“Wh–Why would you do that!?” Steve clumsily grabs for the cap atop his head before holding it to his crotch in a flimsy attempt to preserve at least some of his dignity.

“Honestly? Because I don’t have a lot of impulse control,” Eddie admits truthfully, “but mostly I did it to prove to you that you did, in fact, show up to my party dressed as a stripper.”

Steve’s had enough. He grumbles out every single curse word he knows and shoulders his way into the trailer, yanking the remainder of the costume off of his body and out of his ass as he goes. If Steve was cold before, he’s freezing now. His nipples could cut fucking glass.

“Don’t tell me you took the kids out trick or treating in this.” Eddie says, motioning towards him with the bundle of thin fabric that had been, up until a few seconds ago, Steve’s costume.

Steve snatches the dark blue remains of his outfit, suddenly furious. He’s sure his face matches the red of his boxers at this point. Boxers that are now on display for all to see, apparently!

He reaches up to angrily tear off the mustache from his upper lip, and has to bite back an honest to god scream as it tears away, taking some of his actual lip hair with it. It was like a fucking wax strip!

“You did.” Eddie gasps, all but clutching his damn pearls, utterly scandalized. “You really went around and gave the good folks of Hawkin’s a free fucking show tonight, huh? Jesus Christ, Harrington, you probably sent some poor fucker out there into cardiac arrest!”

“No, I–” Steve sputters, “well, yes, I wore the cop costume while I took the kids around a couple of neighborhoods, but there wasn’t any kind of show.”

“Were the mothers especially kind to you, Stevie?” Robin asks from her position on the sofa beside Nancy, one sandy brown brow arched. “Did they give you extra candy?”

“One, I didn’t go trick-or-treating, so I didn’t get any candy at all,” Steve says, suddenly reluctant about taking his boots off, wary of losing any more of his clothing. As he speaks, he shuffles behind the countertop in the kitchen area instead, hiding at least his lower half from further attention. Everyone had already seen his hairy chest plenty of times, but still. It was the indignity of it all! “And two, I didn’t know it was a stripper costume. And three, screw all of you.”

Thank Christ the kids seemed oblivious to that sort of thing still. Steve’s as relieved at preserving their innocence as he is grateful they didn’t bear witness to his great blunder.

“Didn’t it feel weird when you had to velcro the sides shut..?” Nancy asks, sheer amusement playing across her features.

“Well, in hindsight… yes.” Steve has to stop speaking because all three of his so-called friends dissolve in further fits of laughter. He has to shout to be heard over their cackling, “but I just thought it was because the costume was cheap!”

“Oh, Steve.” Nancy shakes her head, still giggling. She sounded a little drunk.

“Sweet, naive Dingus.” Robin adds, as if she were finishing her girlfriend's thoughts.

So now Nancy and Robin were ganging up on him too. And after Steve gave Robin his blessing to date his ex-girlfriend! Traitors, all of ‘em, Steve thinks haughtily as he crosses his arms and glares.

“C’mon big boy, you can borrow something of mine.” Eddie says, finally deciding to take pity on Steve. “Unless, of course, you want me to help velcro your ass back into that little number..?”

That’s the absolute last thing he wants. So, with an angry grumble, Steve accepts Eddie’s offer for clothes and follows him down the narrow hallway, into his bedroom. Steve all but collapses on the end of Eddie’s unmade bed, snatching a pillow and holding it to his lap as he watches Eddie dig around his dresser drawers.

Steve notices that Eddie’s oddly quiet now that they’re alone.

Steve was sort of used to Eddie’s constant prattling on when they were together—so much so, that the lack of it seems unnatural in its own sort of way. It’s damn near unsettling to be near Eddie and not have him chewing his ear off.

Eddie pulls some soft, gray clothing from his drawers, attempts to discreetly give it the cautionary sniff test, then turns to offer them up to Steve. “Here, these, uh, they should fit you. Elastic waistband.”

“Thanks.” Steve mumbles, still a little pissed at Eddie for the whole tearing him out of his clothes thing. To be fair, Steve would have probably returned the favor if the roles had been reversed and would have laughed just as hard. Maybe harder.

He shoves the shirt on, then discards the pillow in order to stand and attempt to rid himself of the godforsaken boots from hell... Steve is unnervingly aware that the red of his underwear stands out like a fucking fire engine.

Eddie turns his painted face away, suddenly very interested in the various posters on his wall.

“Oh, sure, now you’re shy.” Steve snorts, but when he steps on the backs of his heels in an effort to toe off his boots, he sucks in a sharp breath and wobbles back onto the bed, cursing. The sharp stinging pain from the blisters is enough to cut his breath. “Shit, shit, shit–”

“What is it? What happened?” Eddie’s full attention is back on Steve, and Steve’s insides squirm a little at the intensity of it. He kind of loves that about Eddie; how he can be flighty and erratic one minute, but wholly and completely laser focused on something the next.

And Steve is man enough to admit that he sort of likes it when that undivided attention lands on him. Admittedly, he likes it when anyone pays attention to him, but… it’s different with Eddie. Even Steve’s not entirely sure why. It just makes him feel… seen, maybe. Special. Understood?

Steve doesn’t fucking know. He gives his head a shake.

“It’s just these stupid boots. I’ve only worn them a few times and they always give me blisters. I shouldn’t have worn them tonight but I just thought they went good with the outfit...” Steve explains, as if it’s a confession. The price of vanity, he thinks bitterly. Steve lifts one of his feet until it’s propped up his opposite knee and begins working the boot off, flinching as he goes, “they’re just stinging a little, it’s fine.”

“I’ll get some band-aids.” Eddie mutters as he darts out of the room, nearly tripping over something in his haste. Steve can hear him digging through the cupboard in the bathroom through the paper-thin walls of the trailer. Eddie sounds like a goddamn tornado. But hey, what’s new? Dude is tornado incarnate.

By the time Eddie’s back, armed with a battered box of band-aids and a tube of Neosporin, Steve’s already managed to work off a boot and peel away one of his socks. He’s poking the painful, fluid-filled blister with a grimace.

“Here.” Eddie awkwardly passes both of the items to Steve. He practically shoves them into his hands. Steve accepts them all with a quick thanks and gets to work. He half expects Eddie to go and just leave Steve to it, but he doesn’t. Instead, Eddie just stands there, hovering in the middle of his bedroom, staring like a weirdo.

Which sounds harsh even in Steve’s own mind, but there really was no mistaking it; Eddie most definitely is a full-blown, bonafide, one-of-a-kind weirdo. But as time’s gone on, and the further Steve’s gotten away from high school, the more he’s realized that his favorite people in the whole world—the ones he’d lay down his life for any day of the fucking week—are all freaks and weirdos. And maybe that made him a weirdo freak right alongside them. And hey, if all the best people were weird, shouldn’t he be proud to be counted among them?

Steve finds he doesn’t entirely hate the concept.

“You must think I’m a moron, huh?” Steve mutters as he smears some of the antiseptic cream over the blister, then a band-aid overtop, flinching the whole way through.

“For getting a blister? Or for accidentally cosplaying as a sex worker?” Eddie asks, grinning. Knows he’s being a cheeky little shit.

Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes, “it could’ve happened to anyone, y’know. The costume thing, I mean.”

He settles his bare foot on the ground and starts on his next boot.

“Maybe. But it’s funny because it happened to you.” Eddie aims a set of finger guns at him. Steve, despite himself, chuckles a little under his breath. It was sort of funny.

“I don’t, though, by the way.” The couple of words tumble out of Eddie’s mouth. Steve knows by now that when he isn’t following Eddie, all he usually needs to do is wait a few seconds. Eddie never seems to mind taking the time to further explain himself to Steve, unlike most other people. So, Steve just spares him a glance and waits. “Think you’re a moron, I mean. You’re just… more of a do first, think later kinda guy. It doesn’t make you dumb. Maybe a little foolhardy, is all.”

“Foolhardy?” Steve’s hands stop what they’re doing as he looks up at Eddie. Steve’s pretty sure he knows what it means, but who the hell throws around digs like that?

Well, come to think of it, Eddie Munson would. Between writing his own songs and making up those D&D campaigns, Eddie’s inner voice probably speaks to him in sonnets and soliloquies.

“It’s a good thing—well, it is when I say it…” Eddie rushes to explain, but seems to abandon a few trains of thoughts before shaking his head, “whatever, nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“I know what foolhardy means I just–” Steve doesn’t have any fight in him though, too focused on how fucking painful this blister is compared to the last. The sharp sting was enough to make his eyes embarrassingly prickle. “Fuuuuuck…” he groans as he pulls.

“Stop, stop, just–” Eddie kneels, taking a knee, before he grabs Steve’s boot.

“No no, Eddie, don’t–!” Steve shrieks, suddenly terrified of Eddie’s jumpy, erratic movements he’s known for. His foot can’t fucking take it…

“Calm down, I’ll pull it off slow. I’ll even give you a countdown. You just–just relax, alright?” Eddie says, looking downright ridiculous in his costume. And yet, despite how crazy he looks, Munson seems sincere. He liked to poke fun at Steve, sure, but Eddie wouldn’t hurt him. Steve knows that. And when Eddie’s fingers curl around the back of his calf, the touch is gentle. Steve’s skin heats underneath Eddie’s hold. It’s enough to make his head go a little fuzzy.

Trying to follow Eddie’s instruction, Steve hesitantly leans back on the heels of his hands, allowing his leg to go slack in Eddie’s grip. “Relax. Right. Okay.”

“Alright. My safe word’s Ronald Reagan, but you can borrow it for tonight if you want me to stop, cool?” Eddie looks up at him through his lashes. The liner around his eyes was really something else… And his hair looked especially poofy tonight. Like Steve’s hands could get lost in there. Were those plastic spiders in his hair? God, Steve hoped they were plastic spiders…

A beat passes before Steve’s brain catches up with him. “Why the hell is Ronald Reagan your safe word?”

“Because nothing kills my boner faster than thinking about that dickwad. Duh.” Eddie explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, but Steve wasn’t exactly experienced with things like safe words and… well, the things that normally go along with safe words.

He feels himself shift anxiously at the idea. He wondered if Eddie was just making a joke or if he actually…

“Ready?” Eddie interrupts and utterly derails that particular train of thought. He’s cradling Steve’s booted foot, one hand low on Steve’s calf, the other gripping the bottom of the boot. Real comforting like.

Steve takes a quick breath before giving a sharp nod. “Ready.”

“3, 2, 1, deep breaths everyone!” Eddie says, and true to his word, he pulls off slowly, trying to angle the boot away from Steve’s heel as best he can. Steve clenches his teeth through the whole thing, determined not to utter the president's name. “Aaaaand we’re done!” Eddie says triumphantly.

Steve sighs, and lets himself fall onto the bed in relief. He’s built up a bit of a tolerance for pain over the past few years (purely out of necessity), but he still fucking hates it. Even if it’s something small like this. Call him a pussy for it, whatever. Steve doesn’t care.

When he feels Eddie begin peeling off his sock though, Steve bolts upright, returning to his seated position. “Y-you don’t gotta do that part–”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly and continues peeling away the sock. “It’s okay, I wanna help.”

“My feet probably fucking reek, dude. I’ve been wearing those all day.” Steve wrinkles his nose. The idea that Eddie could possibly be repulsed by him in some way just doesn’t sit right with Steve. “You don’t–... I-I can do this part.”

“I told you, I don’t care.” Eddie says as he peels away Steve’s sweaty, ripe sock before sticking it into the no doubt equally sweaty, ripe boot.

Eddie's now kneeling in front of a pantless and sockless Steve—to say he felt exposed would be an understatement. He watches as Eddie takes the tube of Neosporin in hand and squeezes out a glob onto his finger and lines it up with Steve’s heel.

“Unless,” Eddie halts, as if an idea had just occurred to him, “unless you don’t want me to.”

The two of them just stare at one another for a few seconds, as if they’re both just realizing that they don’t really know the limits of their friendship yet. Both of them seem to be asking the other for permission to cross some kind of a line that they don’t know even exists or not. It should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t. It’s a little uncomfortable, sure, but… exciting, in a weird way.

Steve swallows, “no, I want you to. I mean, if you want to, of course. I—”

I like it when you touch me.

The thought hits Steve with such a sudden and sharp clarity that for a second he’s not sure if he’s said it out loud or not.

But if Eddie somehow heard it, he doesn’t let on.

Instead, the sides of his mouth twitch into a tentative grin, but then Eddie ducks his head before Steve can watch it blossom fully into a smile, though he can tell by the way his cheeks rise near his eyes that it indeed does.

Eddie smears the antiseptic cream on Steve’s blister with guitar string scarred fingers, with more care than most people bother using when they reach for Steve. Then he wipes his hands on his own bed sheets before unpeeling a bandaid from its wrapping and laying it overtop of everything. He smooths a finger overtop of it, once, then twice for good measure. Why Eddie runs his finger over the band-aid a third time, Steve hasn’t got a clue.

There’s something about the way Eddie so can flip the switch from being a loud, boisterous, all out terror of a human being, to this sincere, gentle… almost sweet person. It’s hard for Steve to wrap his head around. Especially since Eddie doesn’t show the second side nearly as often as the first–and only to a lucky handful of people. Steve’s one of those happy few.

It’s like a secret Eddie.

Steve briefly wonders if there’s a secret Steve, but if there is, not even he knows about him. Steve has a feeling he’s more of a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda guy. Hopefully, that doesn’t mean he’s shallow.

And just when Steve thinks Eddie’s done with him, the guy spins around and rummages in his top drawer for a few seconds before turning back with a rolled up set of fresh socks for Steve. Without a word, he kneels and begins putting them on Steve’s foot for him.

Which…

Honestly, Steve doesn’t know how to feel about it. Good, obviously. That much, at least, is crystal fucking clear. But there’s more. Like the fluttery sort of warmth that comes specifically when someone brings you a bowl of hot soup when you’re sick, or cares enough to hold your hair back for you while you puke your guts out after drinking too much. It’s that same sort of feeling. Only more.

“Thanks, man.” Steve says, utterly relieved his voice comes out sounding steadier than he’s feeling. Because… Well, because no one takes care of Steve, except Steve. It’s been that way since he was old enough to tie his own shoes. He’s always on his own. Self-sufficient. Steve takes a sort of pride in it.

But here’s Eddie, on his knees, tending to him, even though Steve can do it perfectly fine on his own. He’s still doing it for Steve, and for the hell of him, Steve can’t wrap his head around why. And all of it over some stupid blisters. It makes Steve’s chest ache, fixing to burst.

“No problem, Officer. Just doing my civic duty.” Eddie’s tone is soft when he flicks his eyes up briefly, paired with a grin. He finishes putting the fresh set of socks on Steve’s feet, careful to avoid the blisters. The socks are pilled, and scratchy, as if neither Wayne nor Eddie bothers with fabric softener, but they’re comfortable enough and blissfully warm.

“Well the city of Hawkins thanks you too, Mr. Munson.” Steve replies with a two fingers salute, attempting to match Eddie’s energy, but the words sound so deeply stupid when they’re strung together like that, that it has them both chuckling.

“Christ, you’re cute.” Eddie mutters, dragging a knuckle under his eye to clear away the stray tear that had formed from all of the laughing he’s done tonight. Then Steve watches as that easy smile that he had just been so admiring quickly fall away as Eddie seems to realize what he’d just said.

Eddie thinks he’s cute?

The question of what kind of cute he was referring to bombards Steve's brain. Cute could mean a hell of a lot of things—from puppies with big wet eyes to Michelle Pfeiffer in a skin tight leotard. Or maybe Eddie didn’t mean to say cute at all. Yeah, maybe it just slipped out. Hell, maybe Eddie’s just high. He does get a little extra tactile and emotional when he’s high. And Eddie definitely smells like weed, but—well, Eddie always smells like weed.

“Here’s your–” Eddie suddenly stands, cape fluttering behind him, and tosses the sweatpants from earlier back at Steve who catches it with ease, despite the newly unmoored feeling he’s got in his gut. Steve suspects Eddie’s blushing by the way he’s holding himself, but because of all the makeup, Steve can’t be sure. Eddie anxiously twists his rings around his fingers muttering a quiet, “sorry, man.”

It’s said so timidly that Steve almost misses the tacked-on apology entirely. Now, timid isn’t usually something that Steve would associate with Eddie Munson but, well, there it is. And despite their playful back and forth with one another, Steve can tell this is wholly different. He doesn’t—can’t leave Eddie standing there with egg on his face.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not—it’s whatever, dude.” Steve says, forever baffled at how the English language, the only language he even knows and is apparently fluent in, still manages to sound like knotted garbage when it comes out of his mouth. He shoves his legs through the sweatpants, yanking them up to his waist.

Eddie seems to get it though, thankfully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve says, quick, casual-like.

Eddie chews on his lip. “I didn’t make it weird?”

At this, Steve barks out a laugh. Because, yeah but… well, if Eddie started going around apologizing every time he did something weird the guy would never stop apologizing.

And Steve likes Eddie’s flavor of weird anyway.

“Hey, I’m the one who showed up to your house dressed as a stripper, didn’t I? If anyone’s made it weird tonight, it’s me.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, briefly concerned about how the stupid hat probably left an embarrassing indent where it was sitting.

Eddie’s wide smile is back, the one that lines his face and makes his eyes do that starlight thing. “That’s true.” He chuckles.

“I like your costume though.” Steve grins, feeling that fluttery feeling in his chest when he gets Eddie smiling like that. “Vampire, right?”

If possible, Eddie’s eyes widen further, giving him a manic look. He hastily pats his various pockets before finding his fake fangs and shoving them into his mouth. They look terrible, but admittedly, they sort of complete the overall look.

“That’s Count Dracula to you, foolish mortal.” Eddie says with a truly terrible Transylvanian accent as he dramatically swishes his cape over one of his arms, then positions it underneath his kohl-rimmed eyes.

Steve pretends to cower, but he’s always been kind of a shitty actor so he just ends up snorting and shaking his head. “Terrifying. If you hadn’t torn it off me earlier, I’m sure I would have shivered right out of my uniform.”

And again, it’s enough for Eddie to break character and bark out a laugh around his plastic fangs. He recovers quickly though, a smile still pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“C’mon, the girlsh have probably put the movie on without ush.” Eddie says with a very distinct lisp. It’s sort of adorable.

It’s profoundly less adorable after Steve hears how Eddie needs to suck back the spit trapped between his teeth and the tray so he doesn't drool all over himself.

Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t end up wearing the fake fangs for the whole movie, especially not after Nancy demands their removal after two or three noisy, spit-retrieving sucks. There’s some petty back and forth that lasts a couple of seconds, but it’s settled quickly and amicably, as most of their squabbles are.

Steve and Eddie spend the majority of the horror flick pressed up against one another, from shoulder to knee. Steve’s not entirely sure what the hell is happening between them, but whatever it is… it’s nice.

And when there’s a particularly scary bit that makes Steve nearly jump out of his skin, Eddie teases him and slaps a patronizing hand to his knee just to further torment him, but it’s the damnedest thing. Even after the joke’s over, and their collective focus is back (in theory) on the movie, Eddie just… doesn’t take his hand back. Neither one of them seems keen on addressing it either, afraid to spook whatever it is away.

They stay that way for the rest of the movie. He doesn’t risk putting his hand over top of Eddie’s—he can’t. Not yet, at least. But Steve will think about little else besides the feeling of Eddie’s warm hand curled around the top of his knee, searing into him like a brand, for many nights to come.

It’s hands down the most embarrassing Halloween Steve’s ever had—but it’s also kinda the best, thanks to Eddie.

[miss-bushido]

Apple of my eye

Written for @steddie-spooktober Day 3- Apples

Rating: G

🍎🍎🍎

For months, Eddie had been trying to find the perfect gift for Steve for his birthday. Everything felt overdone, or obvious, or something he would have gotten himself at the mall. Eddie wanted this gift to be something special. Something he would never have thought to get for himself.

What do you get for the guy who has everything?

Eddie was trudging down Main Street, ready for another day of striking out when something caught his eye. There in a shop window was an apron. Not just any apron: it had a pattern of red apples all over it.

The apron itself was nice on its own- a light brown, reminiscent of a paper bag- but the apples were able to pop in color contrast. Best of all? On the front of one of the pockets, there was stitching that said You’re the apple of my eye in fancy lettering.

Really, what was Eddie supposed to do?

Two days later, he made his way over to Steve’s for his birthday party. All the kids were going to be there. Robin, of course. Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle. All of Steve’s friends. And honestly? All of Eddie’s friends now, too.

They ate too mich pizza, watched movies too loudly. When the cake came out, made special by Steve himself, Mike and Dustin immediately got into a shouting match over trying to call dibs on one of the corner pieces.

Eddie and Robin gave them both their best disappointed parent looks, and that seemed to go far with wrangling them. At least until they found something else to argue about.

“Okay!” Nancy shouted, clapping her hands. “It’s time for presents!” Steve was ushered into the living room and sat down on the middle of the couch. His cheeks were a little flushed from all the attention, but he was smiling the whole time.

Eddie took this opportunity to sit down right next to him, eyes roving over each present as it was handed to and opened by Steve. The kids had pooled their resources and had gotten him the new album by The Smiths; Nancy got him a new pair of sunglasses; Robin gave him a pen and journal set; Argyle gave him a six pack of his favorite beer; and Jonathan gave him a picture frame set with 6 different photos in it of Steve with different people in them. “I thought it might be nice for you to have all of your friends there,” he said quietly, unsure how much to say and if he should say anything more.

“Thanks, Jon,” Steve said, a big grin on his face. “This is so sweet. I love everything.”

“Where’s yours, Eddie?” Dustin asked.

“It’s behind the couch!” Robin exclaimed before Eddie had a chance to say or do anything. She lifted up the large bag and groaned. “Jeez, what do you have in here? An anvil?”

“Open it and see,” Eddie said, adding, “though I am happy you think I’m strong enough to lift something so heavy.”

“You’re stronger than you look,” Steve quipped before he reached in and pulled out a basket of apples. “Oh cool! Thanks, man.”

A few of the others gave him quizzical looks. “I’ve been talking about baking some more this year, and I wanted to start with something with apples as the main ingredient.” He reached into the bag and pulled out the apron. Steve’s eyes took in the pattern, and then the words stitched on the pocket, his smile turning dreamy.

“D’you like it?” Eddie asked, hope in his voice. Steve didn’t respond, but he did turn and pull Eddie in for a kiss.

“It’s perfect, baby,” Steve replied, cupping Eddie’s cheek with his hand.

Behind him, Robin cleared her throat, and Steve snapped back to the present. Everyone was staring at them with a mixture of confusion and astonishment. Dustin in particular looked like he’d swallowed a bowling ball at seeing his two older best friends kiss one another. The shock of this news was keeping him quiet for now, but they both knew the questions would be extensive once he came back to himself.

“What? A man can’t kiss his boyfriend on his birthday?” Steve exclaimed.

“Hell yeah, brocachos!” Argyle yelled. “Get it, Eddie.”

Eddie flushed, but managed to laugh. So did a few of the others.

“What does the apron say?” Will asked, his voice quiet as usual.

Steve held it up with his free hand and read out, “‘You’re the apple of my eye’.” He turned to look at Eddie and kissed him again, on the cheek this time.

“I never knew both of you were such saps,” Max piped up.

“I guess it’s meant to be,” Steve replied. He stood up and put the apron on, hands on his hips. “It’s official, I’m never taking this off.” He couldn’t help but toss a quick wink to Eddie, who blushed even harder. He was glad he’d picked a good present. And if Steve seriously meant he wouldn’t take it off? Well, that was something worth exploring, wasn’t it?

[medusapelagia]

Steddie Events November Update

New month new update!

Steddie Microfic ( @steddiemicrofic ) This month's prompt is guard | 532 words Event info

Steddie Song Fic ( @steddiesongfics) For this month the song you choose MUST be from a musical that has been or is currently on Broadway! Event info

Steddie Exchange (@steddieexchange) The sign ups close on the 17th of November! Event info

Steddie Bingo (@steddiebingo) An entire year to complete the bingo and two different rounds are coming soon! The first round sign ups are finally open! Event info

Steddie Holiday drabbles ( @steddieholidaydrabbles) They entertain us with some amazing Pop Up Events but it's finally time to take a look at their prompts for the Holiday Season! Event info

Magic Journey (@batboysxprompts) 8 prompts with a sprinkle of magic from the 13th of December to the 31st of January. Event info

As always feel free to reblog and add other events I might have missed!

Under the cut past events masterpost!

Steddie Big Bang ( @steddiebang2024) The Steddie Big Bang 2024 it's officially over! This is the Steddie BB 2024 Collection

Steddie Kinktober Bingo (on Twitter@/SteddieKtober24) Event info

Steddie Spooktober (@steddie-spooktober) Here is the AO3 collection

Steddie's Back to School Bash (@thehairandthebanished) Find the AO3 Collection here

Soft Steddie September (@softsteddieseptember) Find the AO3 Collection here

Steddie Smutty September (@steddiesmuttyseptember) Find the AO3 Collection here

Steddie Angsty August ( @steddieangstyaugust ) Here the Master Post and the AO3 collection!

Steddie Week 2024 ( @steddie-week ) AO3 Collection, masterpost fic, master post art

Steddie Summer Exchange (@steddiesummerexchange) Here is the AO3 collection

[little-annie]

Ooooohhhh how could I not ask for a little bit of 🎃

@steddie-spooktober | Cryptid | WIP

●●●

With the moon hanging high in the sky and the shadows of trees dancing like death in the night, Steve follows Eddie through the woods.

Each crack of branches and crunch of leaves below their feet echoes through the silence and darkness surrounding them.

He doesn't know why he agreed to this. He's heard the stories.

The tales of missing children in the night, pulled from this plane and into the next. Bodies broken, limbs shattered, cries screamed.

The wind wails just as Steve imagines those lost souls do, fading from this life and into the next.

●●●

Come make me write

[stevieweek]

If you're creating for more than one, pick the one that feels the rightest (i.e. the one you're most likely to participate in or most excited for).

Here are the links:

@steddie-spooktober @harringrovekinktober @strangerthingswritersguild (kinktober event)

@corrodedcoffinfest @strangetober @steddiemicrofic

And if you know other events not listed here (that could mix with Stevie-ween prompts) you can share them in the comments :3

🎃 Happy creating! 🎃

[solarmorrigan]

The Witch and The Carpenter

For the @steddie-spooktober day 23 prompt: Witch Rated: T | Words: 2862 | CW: None | Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Eddie Munson, carpenter!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington gets migraines, Eddie Munson needs a hug, Steve Harrington needs a hug, they're perfect for each other hugs all around Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie hears about the new carpenter within hours of his rolling into town – of course he does; any witch worth their salt knows exactly what’s going on in their town at all times (it’s hard not to, when you’re the one providing the potions and charms that help everyone else keep their secrets).

His name is Steve, and he’s come with hopes of filling the hole left when Benny, the previous town carpenter, had died without an heir to his business. People say that he seems hardworking and capable, that he’s strong and handsome, that he’s friendly enough, but that there’s something a little distant about him – a little lonely (though the older ladies who give Eddie gossip do tend to romanticize at times).

Eddie doesn’t expect to meet him as soon as he does, but before even his first week in town is out, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep, looking at once earnest and wary, and just as handsome as the gossip had said.

(Not that that last bit has any bearing on anything.)

“People in town say you’re the one to see for remedies,” Steve says when Eddie gets the door open.

“People in town say a lot of things,” Eddie replies. “But in this case, they’re right. Come on in.”

Inside, Eddie finds out that Steve is seeking a remedy for headaches. But not just any headaches; these seem to be full-body affairs that can keep Steve down for days at a time. He gets dizzy, nauseous, is bothered by any noise, and even candlelight can be too bright for his eyes.

Eddie mixes him up something strong, gives him strict instructions on how it’s to be taken, and then moves on to the matter of payment.

At that, Steve begins to look sheepish.

“I’ve only just set up my business. I… don’t have much money yet,” he admits. “I was hoping you might be willing to do a trade.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you have to trade that you think might interest me?”

“Your door?” Steve offers.

“…what about my door?” Eddie asks after a long moment of confused silence.

“It sticks. You were having trouble getting it closed earlier. I could fix that,” Steve says.

And it’s true – Eddie’s front door does stick. So does the back door. The shutters often refuse to open or shut properly, and the porch sags a little, and there’s a leak in the roof when it rains hard enough. While Eddie is the best in the business when it comes to working magic, he’s not so handy with home repairs.

(It doesn’t particularly help that witches exist in an odd sort of social limbo. Every town needs one—this is generally acknowledged as truth—but no one particularly wants them around. Eddie lives a little ways away from town, up against the forest line, where it’s easy to ignore him and his shabby house unless someone needs something from him. No one has ever exactly been chomping at the bit to come help him fix the place up.)

Eddie shouldn’t say yes. He often trades goods and services, but he doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t know if he’s reliable, doesn’t even know if his work is any good – but something in him wants to agree, anyway.

Maybe it’s the earnestness of his offer, or the hope in his expression that he’s clearly trying to quash, or maybe Eddie’s just a sucker for a pretty face, but eventually he finds he can’t say anything but, “Okay, sure.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs as he accepts the potion. “How would tomorrow work for you?”

Still not entirely sure he expects Steve to show up, Eddie says that tomorrow is fine. If he doesn’t show, if he thinks he can fleece a witch and continue living peacefully in town, he’ll quickly find out otherwise. And if he does come back – well, it would be nice to have a door that doesn’t stick anymore.

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks before he leaves.

“Red,” Eddie answers, one brow raised in a question that Steve doesn’t answer.

“Red.” Steve nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve is back bright and early with a bag of tools and a pot of paint. He tells Eddie not to mind him, he’ll just get to work and try to stay out of Eddie’s way, but Eddie can’t help but watch as Steve inspects the door hinges, the frame, and then not only trims the door down, but sands and paints it, too.

Red: Eddie’s favorite color.

Anyway, it isn’t Eddie’s fault for getting distracted. There’s an unfairly attractive man doing manual labor in front of his house, what’s he supposed to do?

Eventually, though, Eddie does force himself to look away. He shouldn’t get attached to things he knows he can’t have. He’s the witch; he’s in the background of everyone else’s story, he doesn’t get to have one of his own – especially not with someone like Steve.

And that’s fine, Eddie had accepted that long ago. He likes being able to help people, and it’s sort of the only thing he’s any good at. He won’t deny that it stings sometimes, the way people talk about witches—about him—but what should he care about what other people think?

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because once Steve finishes with the door, it’s unlikely the two of them will cross paths again any time soon.

Steve finishes the door (it now opens and closes smooth as butter) and goes home.

And comes back the next week.

“Finished what I gave you already?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “Stress always makes the headaches worse, and with travelling and setting up shop…”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I could make you a bigger batch, but it would cost you more.”

“I can fix those shutters.” Steve nods towards the windows. “And you mentioned something about the back door?”

“You’re going to neglect your real customers, spending all your time fixing up my house,” Eddie teases.

“I can make the time,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie. “I think it’s worth it.”

Eddie has to turn away again, reminding himself that Steve is talking about the medicine, not him.

He fixes up a bigger batch of that same strong potion he’d made the previous week (“I’ve never had anything work so well,” Steve had practically gushed. “It was more than worth my work.”) and Steve comes back the next afternoon to start work on the back door.

They talk more this time, when Steve takes breaks, when Eddie is between tasks and brings him cool water to drink, and Eddie finds that Steve is funny and sweet, and catty and sharp, and a bigger gossip than even Eddie himself. And he reminds himself, again and again, that Steve is not for him. This isn’t how the story goes.

Witches don’t get nice things.

(And that’s fine. Eddie is fine with it. He’s fine.)

They do, however, get increasingly nice houses, apparently. Or at least Eddie does. Steve paints the back door red, too, and then gets to work fixing the shutters. Those, to Eddie’s bemusement, he paints a buttery, golden yellow.

“They don’t exactly scream ‘witch’s cottage’,” Eddie points out.

Steve only shrugs. “It’s my favorite color,” he says, flashing a grin at Eddie. “Besides, I think they go with the doors.”

Eddie doesn’t argue.

It goes on like this. Eddie brews medicine for Steve’s headaches, and Steve finds things around the house to work on. He fixes the leak in the roof, the creaky porch steps, the drawer in the kitchen that will never stay closed; his business picks up in town, but he always makes time for Eddie.

As much as he can, at least.

“I’ve got a few big orders built up,” he says apologetically one afternoon as he collects his medicine from Eddie. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to get to the cabinets like I said I would, but I can pay you–”

“Nah.” Eddie waves Steve’s offer away before he can pull out any coins. “I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Eddie doesn’t do tabs.

Steve looks skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course I am. And if, for some reason, you welch on our deal,” Eddie gives Steve a sharp grin, “I do know where you live.”

“You should come visit, then,” Steve says.

Eddie falters. “What?”

“If you want to, I mean.” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “Just– if I can’t make it out here, maybe you could come see me, instead.”

And again, he’s so earnest, trying so hard not to look too hopeful, that Eddie can’t say anything but, “Alright, I will.”

The way Steve lights up at that is worth just about anything he could have Eddie do.

Eddie tries to remind himself of this as he ventures into town the next week.

He doesn’t go into the town proper very often; he grows a lot of what he needs and trades for a lot of the rest of it with customers; he’s a rare enough sight that some people stare, and whisper, and Eddie does his best to hold his head up high and walk without a care.

And if he pulls faces at some of the more egregious offenders, causing them to gasp and scurry away, scandalized, well – Eddie is allowed his simple pleasures.

Anyway, Steve is all smiles when he finds Eddie at his door, and that’s the most important thing. He ushers him through the shop (a large, warm space that smells of wood shavings and sweet smoke, just as Eddie’s come to associate with Steve) and into the living space above. He serves Eddie tea and cake with a studied nonchalance that says he doesn’t want Eddie to realize how excited he is.

How excited he is to see Eddie.

Eddie searches for anything else to focus on before he does something ridiculous, like act on the rising warm feeling in his chest. He finds it, oddly, in Steve’s eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asks him; the shadows beneath his eyes look almost like bruises.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

His hands are shaking, Eddie realizes, as he pours the tea for the both of them. Steve must notice Eddie noticing, because he folds his hands back into his lap with a little huff.

“Happens sometimes,” he says brusquely. “More annoying than anything. Carpenters are supposed to have steady hands.”

(Eddie wonders sometimes what must have happened to Steve, but he’s seen some of the scars that adorn his body, has seen the faraway look that gets into his eyes from time to time, and he thinks he knows. Steve has the bearing of a soldier, and the eyes of a man too kind to have ever been made to fight for a king who doesn’t give a damn about him.)

Taking the hint, Eddie changes the subject, but the thought of Steve’s shaking hands follows him home. All those tools, all those sharp things he works with – maybe Steve isn’t his, not his to worry over or to care of, but Eddie decides he’s damn well going to do it anyway.

The next time Steve comes by, Eddie slips him an extra packet along with his usual potion.

“You brew it like tea,” Eddie says to Steve’s confused glance. “Should help steady your hands, when you need it.”

Steve stares down at the packet for several silent seconds. “You didn’t have to–”

“But I wanted to.”

Shaking his head, Steve looks back up at Eddie. “How can I–”

Eddie waves him off before the question is fully formed. “Let’s say it’s on the house, for my best customer.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Steve says, not without amusement.

“Then how about my favorite customer?” Eddie offers.

Steve is smiling now. “Are you allowed to have favorites?”

“I’m the witch,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I can do whatever I want.”

And so it goes.

And so it might have continued going, if it hadn’t been for the night Steve turns up at Eddie’s door well after dark, looking grey and haggard and haunted.

Eddie ushers him in, sits him down, makes him some tea, and tries to get some words out of him.

“Do you make anything to help people sleep?” is what Steve finally asks.

“I can,” Eddie says slowly, watching Steve carefully.

Steve drops his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. “I just– I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, just for one night,” he says, so low that Eddie has to strain to catch all the words. “Just once.”

Eddie weighs his options. He knows how to make an elixir for a deep, dreamless sleep; he won’t deny that he’s used it himself, when certain memories had become too much, but that’s exactly how he knows that it hits hard and fast. It can be disorienting – maybe even a little dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I can make something for you,” Eddie says, “but only if you stay here tonight. I don’t want you walking back home in the dark, it isn’t safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose,” Steve says, as if he could ever be an imposition to Eddie.

“I’d feel better knowing you’re here,” Eddie says, and that seems to break Steve’s resolve.

By the time Eddie finishes the elixir, Steve is barely awake in his seat. He doesn’t even argue when Eddie leads him to his own bed, lays him down, and tells him to drink.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

Eddie closes the bedroom door and sets himself up in a chair by the fire, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He follows the smell and coffee and sizzling bacon to find Steve there, flitting around the room, cooking.

“Hey.” Steve smiles, broad and true, when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “I was going to come wake you soon, breakfast is almost ready.”

Eddie blinks at him, wondering if maybe he’s the one who took the sleeping elixir, because he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing: Steve, happy and sleep-rumpled, using his kitchen to cook breakfast like it’s familiar to him, like it’s something he does every day, smiling at Eddie like he’s the final piece missing from the morning.

“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you did last night,” Steve says, determinedly poking at the bacon in the pan. “I can’t– I can’t tell you how much I needed that. How much it helped. But I figured I could at least start by making you breakfast.”

Eddie watches him cook, and feels like his heart is about to crack, because for some reason he’s getting this taste of what life could be like, but he doesn’t get to keep it.

This isn’t for him.

(And Eddie wants to be fine, but he isn’t. He isn’t.)

Something must show on his face, because when Steve looks up at him, his own expression falls into a concerned frown. He forgets all about the bacon and moves over to Eddie, arms outstretched to place his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, so invested, so concerned, that Eddie feels like he might lose his mind.

“This isn’t right,” Eddie manages, and Steve only looks more upset.

“Should I– should I not have done this? Did you want me to go, or–”

“I never want you to go!” Eddie blurts. “I always want you here, but this—this morning, breakfast, you—I don’t get to have this. It’s – it’s not right.”

Steve’s expression softens, eyes warming with understanding. “You can have it, if you want,” he says softly. “You can have me. You always could have. Since the beginning.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Then let’s write a new one,” Steve says.

There isn’t anything Eddie can think to say to that, but that’s alright, because that means his mouth is unoccupied when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Steve never has to trade anything for his medicine ever again, after that, nor does he have to come over to fetch it – he’s already there. Eddie’s house becomes the nicest in town, what with his live-in carpenter, and all. It’s painted in bright colors, and it draws people in, and makes them want to stay just a little longer, exchange pleasantries just a little more, and get to know Eddie just a little bit better.

Steve keeps his workshop in town, goes there every morning, and returns to Eddie at night. They start their days with breakfast together, and they end them in bed, pressed together like spoons in a drawer, and with every day that passes by, Eddie believes, more and more, that maybe this is something he gets to have.

Maybe this is something he gets to keep.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Of Wolf and Man

Prompt: Werewolf | Word Count: 5533 | Rating: E | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | CW: Minor Injury, A Sprinkle of Good Boy Kink | Tags: Canon Divergence, S3 Happened, But No S4 Events, Different Meeting After High School, Werewolf Steve, Animal Lover Eddie, A Touch of Hurt/Comfort, But Mostly Fluff

Eddie hears the growl, and freezes mid-step. He was just headed out to Skull Rock to make a quick deal with a jock too scared to meet at his usual picnic table in the woods, and this is what he gets for his trouble? About to be eaten by a wild fucking animal over twenty bucks worth of weed? Great, just great. He isn't sure what direction the growl came from, it sounded all around him, all at once. Like it was somehow beside him, below him, and above him. He scans as far as his eyes can see, then finally looks up, and when he does, there's a big dog standing on a rock overhead.

"Easy there, buddy," Eddie says, because he's an animal guy. He's not one to turn any species away, as a general rule. His brain suddenly unhelpfully supplies: kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. Which isn't gonna help him survive a feral dog attack, but honestly, take that, Mr. Johnston? He did pay attention in biology class. Both times.

It doesn't matter, but what does matter, is that he can usually charm anything into being his friend for a few minutes. Racoons, opossums, the occasional armadillo. 

More cats than he'll ever be able to count.

Sometimes a stray dog, or two. 

And that's when he realizes this is not a dog. It's a wolf. And there definitely shouldn't be any wolves roaming around just outside of Hawkins. It has to be someone's pet that has gotten loose. Those are legal in Indiana. Or: And his wheels really start turning here, if this one somehow doesn't already belong to someone else, maybe he could wrangle it into being his own pet.

Now, that's an idea. Wayne would shit, but a pet wolf would really make him seem like a bigger, scarier freak around town. He's kind of missed the daily fear and detestation since he squeaked out of Ms. O'Donnell's class, and therefore, high school. Diploma clutched in his fist.

Either way. 

Dealing with a wolf is new territory. Very, very new. 

And a little more terrifying, his fantasy of keeping it as a badass pet notwithstanding. 

It's huge. Especially bathed in moonlight, looming overhead, where all Eddie can see is warm, golden eyes staring down at him, and a dark, pretty coat. The wolf is watching him, as if it's taking stock of Eddie's every move.

"Well, I'm gonna go my way, and you're gonna stay right there," Eddie says, holding his arm up, palm facing the big animal, and the wolf whines in a way that almost sounds like he's disagreeing petulantly with this command.

Eddie smiles, even if he's still a little terrified, "You don't want me to hang around. I'll cramp your style. Lay down." 

And the wolf starts to do just that. Big body folding down into itself. 

"That's a good boy. You're very pretty, you know?" Eddie asks. And it is a pretty animal. Lean muscle, wrapped in what he assumes is a heavy coat of soft fur. 

He'd like to pet him. 

That's how he'll die someday. Petting something he had no business touching. He's sure of it. 

And the wolf whimpers, laying down on the rock, resting his chin on its huge paws, still watching Eddie with those mesmerizing eyes. 

They almost glow out here in the moonlight. 

How fucking cool is that? An actual wolf. In the flesh, and not just written into a campaign. 

Eddie grins at him one more time, and then takes off in the direction he was headed in before he was interrupted by a huge fucking wolf.

Once he gets to Skull Rock, and sits down to wait, he hears the howl in the distance, and smiles. Hopefully the wolf doesn't have a pack hanging around that's less docile than he was.

He doesn't think about the wolf again, not much anyway, until the wolf shows up again, standing across the highway, right along the tree line, watching him. Eddie's putting three bucks in the van's gas tank, and it suddenly feels like he's been tracked here. Shit. Has he been tracked here? Does the wolf have his scent now? 

Eddie should ignore it, but he can't. He makes eye contact, and the wolf sits. Like he's waiting. Eddie goes in and pays, and when he comes out of the Fair Mart, he looks both ways, then jogs across the two lanes of worn asphalt.

The wolf is still there, sitting patiently, watching as Eddie struggles to unwrap the Slim Jim he bought for the animal for some stupid reason, not nearly scared enough that he's about to be mauled. 

Eddie isn't sure what to do now as he looks down at him. Does he throw it? Drop it? Hand feed him like he would a dog? 

"Hi. Me again. I probably wouldn't have seen you if it wasn't so bright out tonight," Eddie says, making one-sided small talk, nodding his head towards the big, full moon overhead.

And then Eddie holds out the meat stick, an offer.

The wolf makes eye contact, and then gently takes it from Eddie's fingers, like he's being careful and Eddie grins, "That's a good boy."

And the wolf looks right at him, tail lightly dancing around, as if he understood that. Maybe he just got the tone. Dogs are good at that, right? Maybe wolves are, too.

But it still unsettles Eddie, just a little. It's too human, and the fact that it's a full moon suddenly isn't lost on him. He gets the lore behind that. And it kickstarts his imagination. Thrusting it into overdrive. Was it a full moon last time? Eddie thinks maybe it was, as brightly lit as the woods had been, even late at night.

But, it can't be. That's absurd. He needs to just go. Accept this for what it was, just another experience in his long line of animal whispering.

He's got band practice to get to, anyway. They always expect he'll be late, but still. He should go.

"Okay, I gotta go," Eddie says, and then adds, "Stay out of the highway, it's dangerous." 

And he watches the wolf slink back into the trees, until he's gone from sight. 

Eddie tries to ignore the persistent feeling, the one pulling at his brain, but he's only able to ignore it until the next full moon, when the wolf is back, lurking near the trailer this time, as if this time he was able to track him home.

Eddie lives like six miles from the gas station. He doesn't know the range a wolf has, but that seems far. Especially figuring in the wolf also being out Skull Rock the first night. He's covering ground, that's for damn sure. 

The wolf comes right up to the dead patch of grass they call a lawn, and lays down, looking up at Eddie.

"Hi, again. I'm Eddie. And I think you're a werewolf," Eddie says, and the wolf whines, "Are you a werewolf? Are you a person?"

The wolf snuffles, and Eddie thinks that could be a yes. Or not. He doesn't exactly speak wolf. 

"Who are you?" Eddie asks, as if the wolf can tell him that. "Are you someone I know?"

He doesn't get an answer, but he leaves the porch and sits down on the ground, crossing his legs under him. Right in front of the relaxed animal. 

"Can I pet you?" 

And the wolf leans in his direction. Eddie takes that as a yes, and buries his hand in the wolf's scruff, scratching him, deep and thoroughly. 

His fur is rougher than Eddie had anticipated. But thick. Layers and layers of gorgeous, brown hair. 

And the wolf gets closer and closer until he's resting his chin on Eddie's knee, where he falls asleep. 

Eddie grins.

He has a pet wolf. 

Hot damn. 

And that cements the routine. A full moon is in the sky? Eddie has a temporary wolf pet. He feeds it, and pets it, and quickly finds out it loves to roughhouse. Launching itself at Eddie, taking him down to the dirt. Rolling him.

Butting at his head, his face, under his chin, licking him. 

The first time he did it startled the shit out of Eddie, but after that, it's been expected. Eddie laughs, and the wolf barks. At least, Eddie's calling it a bark. It isn't the same as a dog barking, but it feels similar in usage.

Eddie finds an old rope in Wayne's shed, and they play tug-of-war until Eddie's sure his hands will blister. But if the wolf wants to play, Eddie isn't gonna pass up the chance to play with a wolf. 

Eddie bought a pack of tennis balls at Melvald's, and sure enough, the wolf loves to chase them and bring them back to Eddie. A wolf that will play fetch. Who'd have thought?

It's probably because he's a human. Or half-dog. Eddie isn't sure. But, if he is a werewolf?

"Hey. Listen. If you are a person, and you do understand me, you could come find me, you know? On any of the other days that you aren't, you know, grrr," Eddie states, holding up his hands in monster fashion. 

The wolf whines, and Eddie lets it go. 

He's cool with just having a once a month wolf pal. It's honestly the best of both worlds. Exotic pet, but he doesn't even have to get a permit for it. Win-win.

The wolf howls. 

"Too loud," Eddie admonishes. 

And then it looks sad. Goddammit. 

"Turn around," Eddie commands, and the wolf does exactly that. Eddie throws him a treat.

"Sit," and he does. Another treat.

"Beg," and that's the limit, apparently, because those eyes are looking at him like he's a goddamn fool. Eddie laughs, and tosses him the piece of lunch meat anyway. He's still a good boy. Even if he won't beg.

They spend all night together, until the wolf inevitably departs before morning light.

That's okay, he'll see him next month.

But when the next full moon has illuminated the night sky, the wolf hasn't shown up. It's several hours after dark, and Eddie's concerned. He's never this late, and now Eddie doesn't know where to search. The woods near the Fair Mart? Near Skull Rock again, where he first saw him? 

He's not sure where his homebase is, his den, or whatever.

All Eddie knows is that it doesn't make sense. He wouldn't just not show up. Not after all this time. 

Something's wrong. And the pit grows in Eddie's stomach, gnawing away, the fear and preemptive sorrow of the impending loss.

He's just developing a battle plan, when he hears the familiar whimper and whine. And there he is, coming up out of the trees. He's hurt. Wet, and filthy. Limping, tail tucked between his legs. There's a deep bleeding gash across his forehead. Dried blood matted into its fur. 

Eddie panics, just for a second, then he scurries up the steps, holding open the trailer door. The wolf doesn't hesitate, just lumbers in, and flops down on the floor as if he can't go any further. 

"What happened to you?" Eddie asks, then realizes he's not gonna get an answer. 

Eddie's never brought him inside before, but he's doing it today. Eddie quickly shuts and locks the door behind them, as if whatever tore him up, might decide to, Eddie doesn't know, follow him inside? Unlikely. But still. Better safe than sorry.

"Stay right there," Eddie says, and the wolf huffs in a way that sounds almost sarcastic. Like, where else would I go, asshole?

Eddie smiles, and knows he's probably crazy. But still. It feels that way. This wolf, his wolf, seems funny. Can a wolf even be funny? Eddie isn't sure. But this one damn well is. 

Wayne's probably gonna notice all the shedded hair, dirt and blood, and wet dog smell, but tonight Eddie's not gonna worry about it.

Tonight, he's gonna try to help his buddy out.

He's covered in mud, and he smells like a lake. 

"You need a bath," Eddie declares and the wolf gets up and walks towards the bathroom like he agrees. 

Eddie laughs, "Okay. Here's the deal. We're gonna pretend you're just an animal, alright?" 

And the wolf stops in the doorway, Eddie tells him to come on, but he won't budge. Eddie tries to get a grasp on him to pull him along without hurting him, but it's fruitless. He's too strong. 

"Very funny," Eddie says, "your stubborn dog that doesn't want a bath impression is, well, impressive." 

The wolf thumps his tail and then comes right into the bathroom and carefully climbs up into the tub. 

Eddie sprays him down to get him wet, then looks at the shampoo options, "Well, I hope wolves are okay with Pert Plus 2-in-1." 

And the wolf honest to god growls, baring his sharp, white fangs, while giving Eddie the dirtiest look a wolf could muster. 

Eddie isn't scared, but he is amused. 

"Well, I'm so sorry, I don't have wolf shampoo. No Mane and Tail, here. Do you have a better idea, tough guy?" Eddie doesn't think rubbing him down with a bar of Irish Spring sounds any better.

But he watches as the wolf looks around the tub ledge, as if he's actually weighing the options, before he nudges a light-colored bottle off with his nose, sending it clattering around the slick tub, making a hell of a racket. 

Eddie retrieves it. Apple Pectin. He assumes it must belong to Wayne's lady friend. It certainly isn't his or Wayne's, that's for damn sure. 

"Alright, Mr. Fancy Pants. If you want your fur to smell like apples, that's on you." 

And with the decision made, Eddie cleans him up carefully. Lathering him up, rinsing him off. After he's finished, and has dried him off the best he can with a towel, the wolf noses around the cabinets, which is curious. What's he looking for? Then he pulls out the cord of a hair dryer, one that has a comb attached.

"You've got to be kidding me?" Eddie asks, picking up the dryer.

Eddie's never seen it in his life. Wayne has no hair, and Eddie's definitely not a blown dry kind of guy. Must be Wayne's girlfriend's. Hope she doesn't mind a little wolf fur stuck in the teeth, because the wolf's not kidding, and he sits, eyes closed, like he's enjoying the heat as Eddie combs him dry. Eddie's very careful not to get it too close to any of his wounds.

Afterwards, once he's soft and fluffier than Eddie's ever seen the pampered mutt, Eddie wraps anything still bleeding, then sits down and pats the couch cushion next to him. The wolf doesn't hesitate. Just jumps up letting out a soft growl that was surely pulled out of him by launching off his injured leg. 

"I know it must hurt," Eddie says, as he pets him gently. The wolf lays his head on Eddie's thigh, and whines pitifully. Then turns his head, like he's watching the muted television right along with Eddie. Eddie looks down at him by the only light in the darkened room, the flickering screen. 

Eddie falls asleep there, with the warm, heavy weight leaning against him. And when he wakes up, still hazy with sleep, he opens his eyes just enough to witness the wolf nudging at the lock with his nose, and then the door is open, the wolf is gone, and the only proof he was ever there is lightweight trailer door lightly banging from the early morning breeze.

After a few more hours of sleep, Eddie realizes there isn't much to eat in the house, and that means he's gonna have to finally do the grocery shopping he's been putting off before Wayne actually kills him. 

And later, as Eddie's coming out of the Big Buy, bags in hand, he nearly runs into Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington, with a bandaged forehead and a slight limp. Smelling slightly of apple shampoo.

No fucking way.

Eddie's eyes widen.

"It's not what you think," Steve immediately says, which is suspicious. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. 

"Okay. It's exactly what you think," Steve says, folding like a cheap suit.

And Eddie laughs, all his teeth showing, fucking thrilled by this turn of events. Steve Harrington. Eddie wouldn't have guessed him if given a million tries.

"Steve Harrington is my pretty, pet wolf," Eddie crows. 

Steve snorts, "I'm not your pet, Munson." 

"All the lap sitting says otherwise." 

"I've never sat on your lap!" 

"You would if you could, big boy," Eddie teases.

And Steve gives him just a hint of a grin, "Yeah, yeah. Um, you're not gonna tell anyone else about this, right?" Steve asks, looking at the blacktop of the parking lot, "Because if I need a head start outta town, just say so."

"From one freak to another, nope. I didn't see anything."

Steve smiles, "Thanks. Because I'm not exactly broadcasting this information." 

Eddie makes a move as if he's locking his lips, and then he throws away the imaginary key. 

They go their separate ways, and Eddie assumes that's the last he'll see of the wolf, and probably Steve Harrington, too.

And he can't help but be a little sad about it.

Eddie tries to distract himself. But his mind keeps telling himself that Steve Harrington, wolf or not, isn't gonna come hang out with Eddie "The Freak" Munson again now that Eddie knows who he is under all that fur. And Eddie hates it.

He's playing penny can with Gareth outside the house, taking turns tossing the coins from the step into an old coffee can, under the light of the full moon, when he feels eyes on him. 

Looking to the right, standing just around the edge of the trailer, is Steve peeking in their direction.

"Hey, you're here! C'mon, boy!" Eddie calls out, lighting up at the sight of him, and Steve rounds the corner like a happy dog. Tail flicking around nearly in circles as he prances, bopping around as he comes towards Eddie.

"That's…that's a wolf!" Gareth shouts, scooting backwards.

"Calm down, he's my friend, aren't you?" Eddie asks, and Steve pounces up on him, paws on Eddie's shoulders, licking his face.

"Whoa, hey there, it's good to see you, too," Eddie laughs, trying to get him to calm down. 

"You have a pet wolf?! Since when?" Gareth screeches.

"Sssh, do you want Mrs. Wilson from down the way sticking her nose into our business?" Eddie asks, then reiterates, "And I said he's my friend, not my pet." 

"You can't be friends with a wolf, Eddie, that's crazy, even for you," Gareth insists, and Steve raises his head and growls, just a little.

Gareth clambers up and into the safety of the trailer, and Eddie laughs, looking down at Steve's warm eyes. He gets it now. Can totally see that these eyes are similar to Steve Harrington's, "That's not nice, you know. Picking on the little scaredy cat. It's like something you'd see in, I don't know, high school."

And the wolf whines.

"Hey! I'm not a scaredy cat! That's a goddamn wolf! I'm just smarter than you!" Gareth yells through the door, and Eddie laughs.

Steve snuffles, and lays his head on Eddie's thigh. His rowdy greeting apparently over with, content to let Eddie pet him.

Eddie strokes him gently, and whispers, "I'm glad you came back."

Gareth is still watching from behind the glass, and Eddie tilts his head far enough back to see him, "Look at him? He's a sweetheart. He won't hurt you. Come back out here."

And Gareth does, but he's still clearly leery of this whole situation. But he sits back down, eventually asking, "Can I pet him?"

"I don't know, you better ask him," Eddie says, because it's definitely not his place to let anyone else manhandle Steve if he doesn't want to be touched by them.

But Steve stretches his head over, indicating that he'd be open to this additional petting.

"It's almost like he understands us," Gareth says.

"He's a smart boy for sure," Eddie answers, scratching Steve behind the ear, before patting him on the butt. 

Steve whips his head around and nips at Eddie's hand, then licks it, "Okay, okay, no butt pats. You're not a cat. Got it. Sorry."

"Does he have a name?" Gareth asks.

Eddie doesn't miss a beat, "Harry." 

"Well, that's original," Gareth snarks, but Eddie doesn't care. He's not giving Steve Harrington a dog name. And he can't exactly call him Harrington. That'd raise questions Eddie's not prepared to answer.

"Well, he is hairy, ain't he?" Eddie asks, and Gareth can't help but nod, and it pleases Eddie.

Wolf Steve hangs with them all night, until morning threatens to peek over the horizon, and then he slinks away into the pre-dawn light to presumably turn back into a real boy.

"You're friends with a freakin' wolf. Like you're Snow White or some bullshit," Gareth whispers, and he sounds a little awed as they watch the wolf go.

Hell, Eddie's awed, too.

And Eddie's gonna miss him. One night a month isn't enough.

But he'll just have to wait. Eddie can be patient. 

Maybe.

He doesn't have to be patient for long. The next night while Eddie is stretched out on the couch, there's a knock at the front door. When he answers it, there's Steve Harrington, in full human form, looking back at him.

"Harrington," Eddie greets, but Steve's not beating around the bush.

"So, about those butt pats," he says, and Eddie throws his head back and laughs as he opens the door even wider. An invitation.

Was that a pick-up line? If so, at least it was original.

Steve can't be serious. 

But Steve crosses the threshold, and two can play at this game. He'll play chicken with Steve on this, so Eddie jerks his head to the right, "Bedroom's back there, big boy."

Steve doesn't hesitate, he steps towards him, and starts corralling him towards the back of the trailer, through the kitchen, applying pressure, guiding, without even touching him, somehow. 

And as he does it, he's shedding clothes. Confident in a way Eddie could never dream of being.

Holy shit. Steve Harrington is really getting naked, as he's backing Eddie's towards his bedroom.

Eddie pedals backwards, just watching, letting Steve encroach on his personal space, and then, his bedroom.

Eddie wonders if being a wolf just makes you more open, more free.

He's not sure, but he scurries along backwards, and once they're both in the bedroom, Steve kicks the door closed behind them. Eddie tugs his shirt over his head, trying to catch up before Steve changes his mind.

Then Eddie pauses:

"If you bite me, will I become a wolf?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "I'm not going to bite you."

Eddie pauses, "Well, what if I bite you?"

"Why would you bite me?" Steve asks, a confused wrinkle forming across his forehead. 

"I mean…" Eddie trails off, nodding towards the bed. 

"Don't make me regret this decision, Munson," Steve says dryly, but he's amused. Eddie can see it in his eyes. 

Eddie isn't sure why Steve made this decision at all. 

"Why are you here, for this, with me anyway?" Eddie asks. He needs to know. They've barely spoken to each other since high school. As far as Eddie knows, Steve only fucks girls. But now he's here, like he owns the place, corralling Eddie to bed?

He's having trouble processing all this new information at once. Eddie's friends with the wolf version of Steve, sure, but he wouldn't say the same for human Steve Harrington.

"Because I've realized I like you. Because you were nice to me, in wolf form. You weren't scared-"

"I was scared shitless!" Eddie interrupts, and Steve laughs.

"For like the first second. After that you were pretty fucking cool about a wolf all up in your face. Don't lie."

"Well…"

"Well, nothing," Steve snips, then his voice softens, "You understood what I most likely was and didn't care. Even if you didn't know who I was, you were pretty fucking chill about me coming to hang out."

Eddie nods. That's true, he didn't care. He'd made a friend, as wolf-shaped as it was. 

"You gave me a bath."

"Hey! I thought we agreed you were just an animal during that," Eddie argues.

Steve smiles.

"Before you, the full moons were lonely. And I dreaded them. But you changed that," Steve explains further, "And after we bumped into each other at the grocery store, I was fucking mad, man. Like, running into you, having you find out that way, it felt like it was the end of something I really looked forward to every month. But then I never heard even a whisper of a rumor that you'd told anyone what you'd figured out."

"I haven't told anyone. Didn't especially think they'd believe me if I did," Eddie laughs. But honestly, it never crossed his mind to gossip. The wolf had been good to him, and he figured it was the least he could do to be nice back.

Tit for tat, as it goes.

For Steve Harrington, or anyone else.

"And I'm grateful. I think it's just me around here," Steve says, "I never see any other wolves." 

"How'd you become a werewolf, if there's no other werewolves around? That doesn't make a lick of sense," Eddie asks.

"It was a Russian torture drug that turned me. When the mall burned down? I wasn't bitten by anything."

"No shit?" Eddie asks. He's heard rumors of what actually happened at the mall, picked up and filed away snippets of information the sheepies have dropped in his presence without realizing it, but he's never heard about Russian torture.

Steve nods. 

"I don't know if they did it on purpose or not. Robin didn't have it happen to her. Just me. So, before you found me, I was just lone wolfing it during full moons, and hoping everything went okay. Robin hated that I was all alone, but it was what it was. Then, I found you."

Eddie nods, and looks at Steve, chest full of hair. He didn't have that in high school, as far as Eddie remembers.

"Side effect?" he asks, pointing to his chest. 

"Yeah, a little. I mean, I wasn't bald or anything before, but it's sure filled out. Age or wolf, I don't really know."

Steve Harrington really turns into a freakin' wolf. 

Eddie reaches forward and combs his fingers through Steve's chest hair, and Steve tilts his head back, and whines. 

Oh fuck. Eddie's done for. This is it. The end of him.

It's familiar, and different, all at once. It's Steve.

Eddie's dick is so goddamn hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans, but all he wants is for Steve to keep making those noises. 

He'll let Steve fuck him. Hell yes, he will. He'll roll over like, well, a fucking wolf, he supposes. Bare his neck. Get mounted. Claimed. Whatever Steve wants, needs.

Only, that's not what happens. His daydreaming was a little bit off, as Steve flops on Eddie's bed, naked, legs spread open. Hand on his hard cock, stroking it as he watches Eddie. 

Eddie isn't even sure where to look. Steve's hairy thighs, his hairier chest, the aforementioned gorgeous cock now laying heavy against Steve's belly. Or his very obviously glistening hole.

"Holy shit," Eddie says, asking, "you want me to, you know?" 

Steve laughs, and Eddie isn't even sure where it comes from, but Steve's flicking a condom Eddie's way. Eddie bumbles it a bit, but catches it in two hands.

Okay, okay. Shit. He can do this. 

Steve wants him to do this?

"You don't, like, want me to submit to you?" Eddie asks, undoing his belt buckle, eyes trained on Steve's. He would. 

Steve laughs, "Not really. I want this."

"Okay," Eddie says, "cool. That's cool."

"Cool," Steve repeats, mocking him a little bit as Eddie's jeans hit the ground, like he can't help but be amused by Eddie. And Eddie likes that.

Eddie crawls on the bed, and slides one hand into Steve's hair, pulling back a little, and Steve whimpers. He leans down and presses his lips to Steve's, kissing him for the first time and eventually Steve opens his mouth, breathing into Eddie's mouth.

Eddie pulls back, "That's a good boy."

And Steve's dick jumps against Eddie's belly, leaking precum between them as he whines, and oh, he's a good boy, indeed.

Eddie takes his hand from Steve's hair, and slides it down his body, bypassing his cock, grazing his thigh instead, before sliding to the inside, and down, under his balls, fingers brushing against Steve's already slick hole. Eddie slides one finger in, then two, and three, and realizes Steve wasn't fucking around. He's gotten himself ready. For Eddie.

Goddamn.

Rolling the condom down his own cock, Eddie thinks his hands are trembling. He can't believe this is happening.

"Hey," Steve says, leaning up onto his elbows, "look at me."

And Eddie does.

"We don't have to do this. If this isn't what you wan-"

"It is," Eddie interrupts, "fuck, it definitely is."

"Okay then," Steve answers, laying back again, and then he slides one foot along the bedding, dragging it upwards, until his knee is bent. He's fucking gorgeous, and confident, and for whatever reason, wants Eddie. It's. It's, yeah. "Whenever you're ready."

Eddie's ready now, and he slots himself between Steve's thighs, lifting him up a little as he lines up and presses inside, deeper and deeper until he's bottomed out. 

His dick is in Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington is his wolf.

Steve whines, and Eddie takes the cue, and starts fucking him in earnest. Cock sliding in and nearly out easily, his balls slapping against Steve's skin with every rough thrust as he builds up a rhythm. 

He's fucking Steve Harrington, and Steve Harrington is liking it by the sounds he's making. By his actions. 

Fingers digging into Eddie's shoulders, his back, his ass, spurring him on.

It's not gonna last long. Eddie's too overstimulated by everything that's happened, and might happen again, in the future. 

He wraps his fist around Steve's dick, wanting to get him off first, and as soon as Steve comes all over his own hairy belly, Eddie slams back into him, chasing his own orgasm. Coming inside him, filling the condom, with a long groan.

Eddie never wants to leave, but he eventually pulls out, and gets up to dispose of the condom. He grabs his shirt and wipes Steve's stomach halfway clean, and then stands there, unsure what comes next. 

Is Steve gonna go? Gonna stay?

Stay apparently, because Steve opens his arm, and Eddie crawls into bed, sliding up against him. Sweat-slick bodies slotting together until they find a comfortable position. 

Laying with him, the afterglow making his mind fuzzy, Eddie wonders if wolves mate for life. 

He sure fucking hopes so.

When the next full moon fills the night sky, Eddie borrows Uncle Wayne's truck, and holds open the passenger door for his wolfie, watching as Steve easily hops in. Eddie rolls down the window with the hand crank, since Steve can't do it for himself in wolf form, and then goes around and slides into the driver's seat.

Enrichment, that's the plan. Steve doesn't need to spend all of his full moons cooped up in the trailer. He needs to be free. Wild. Run around. Feel the wind blow through his fur, or whatever. Eddie doesn't want to tame him, only love him.

So, Eddie takes him out into the country, driving the winding dirt backroads, until he finds a wide-open space, a field where Steve can run. Eddie runs with him, not nearly able to keep up with his speed, and once Eddie's quickly worn out, he sits down in the soft grass, intent to keep watching.

But Steve runs up and nudges Eddie under the chin with his snout, rubbing all over him, and Eddie lets him do it, Eddie eventually collapsing onto his back. Then, Steve crawls on top of him, the heavy weight of the wolf pushing him into the ground below. Eddie feels Steve's stomach growl against him, and he knows they'll meet Robin for breakfast in the morning, where Steve will absolutely decimate a huge stack of pancakes and anything else from their plates that he can get his hands on.

Wolfing makes his boyfriend hungry. And Eddie chuckles: boyfriend. Steve Harrington is his boyfriend.

And his wolf, who is currently licking Eddie's face, making him squirm and laugh harder as Eddie scritches the back of Steve's neck.

He's a good boy, Eddie's good boy, somehow.

And once Steve's tired himself out, Eddie loads him up into the truck, grinning as they head back to town. Glancing between the open stretch of road before him, and Steve beside him, hanging his head out of the open window, howling at the moon.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, pop over to @steddie-spooktober and follow along with the spooky fun! 🐺

Notes: Title is from the Metallica song of the same name. Pert Plus 2-in-1 came out in 1987, so I guess it's at least 1987 here, lol. Apple Pectin was a real shampoo. It was discontinued. RIP, Apple Pectin. I haven't actually smelled you in thirty years, but your scent is still seared into my brain.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 2: Woods + Day 23: Witch for @steddie-spooktober

"Did you come to burn the witch?"

Steve just blinked at the weird man. He was probably a bit taller than him, with wild curls of hair and a mischievous smile. "Why should I?" he quipped back. "It's fucking hot, I came to the woods to cool down. The last thing I want is to get even warmer. Fire's warm."

The man just snorted. "Oh, I got a smart one today. Good for me." He hopped down from the tree he was sitting in and landed in front of Steve. "Such a pretty one too. They never send someone pretty to burn me."

"Once again, I'm not here to burn you."

The witch clutched his chest. "Ouch. And here I thought we had a spark."

Steve didn't dignify that with a response.

And the witch didn't let that deter him. "You know, a spark? As in...a spark that would start a fire? With, I don't know, a nice stake in the middle?"

Steve groaned and rubbed his temples. "If I agree to burn you, will you let me sweat in peace? I hear a spring nearby and I really need to cool down before I pass out from the heat."

The man shook his head. "You people. You cut down the trees for your villages and then wonder why you get a sunstroke." He glanced at Steve's red face, his sweaty hair, and for a second longer, his damp shirt. "Well, I'm a mean, evil witch, but I'm not that cruel. The spring's this way, come with me."

It only took a while for Steve to take of his shoes and dip his feet into the nearby spring, groaning in relief. The witch was crouched next to him, studying his face. "So really. How did you get here? I thought I was a cautionary tale for all the good children in the village, so they never let you go this way unless you need something."

Steve muttered something unintelligible.

"Huh? What's that?"

"...got lost."

The witch's face broke out in a wide grin. "Did you now? Such a big boy, not seeing the warning signs on the trees?"

Steve just grunted and leaned down to splash his face with water, then drink some. "I don't know, man. Must have been the heat. I was working in a field and fell asleep. Stupid, I know. When I woke up, I was so dizzy I thought it was a great idea to go to the woods. I could barely remember my name - that's Steve, by the way, if you need it for a hex or something. I was walking around for what seemed like ages. Then you asked me to burn you. And here I am."

"And here you are," repeated the witch. "Well, you obviously don't have any matches on you, so we're cool, I guess. Name's Eddie, although I rarely use it."

"Because you're a big bad witch?" snorted Steve.

Eddie shrugged. "Well, yeah. Because when others talk about me, they don't think I'm a person. I'm a boogeyman to them. Someone who kills their crops, trades remedies for firstborn children for dinner...the usual stuff."

"Do they taste good?"

That gave Eddie a pause. "What does?"

"The firstborn children."

Eddie stared at Steve. Steve stared back. Then they both burst into laughter at the same time. "Suppose I should invite you for dinner so you can answer that?" said Eddie after they had finally quieted down.

Steve smiled at him, and Eddie could swear he winked at him. "Suppose you should."

...

Steve stayed for dinner - no children were served, but lots of vegetables and delicious herbs - and Eddie made sure he was fully okay before letting him go. "Sunstroke's no joke, Steve, no sleeping in the field or I'll curse you! Stop giggling, I'll do it! I'll send my cat to eat your ears or something!"

With Steve's footsteps sounding more and more distant, Eddie's cottage grew quiet again. For the fist time in years, he hated it.

The quiet lasted until the next evening, when there was a knock on his door, and behind it, Steve. He was carrying some grapes and apples, a fresh loaf of bread, and it seemed he'd even combed his hair and wore a clean shirt. 

Eddie just stared at him. "You got lost again?" he asked incredulously. Because no one came back to him. Not unless they needed something.

Steve just shushed him and headed directly to the table, setting the plates as if it had been his home too. "You know what's great about all the warning signs on the trees? They will always lead me back to you."

Eddie's face was starting to hurt from all the smiling. "So you can burn me?" he asked with a snort, well, maybe a tiny sob too.

"Burning you would be a shame," said Steve as he lit a small candle on the table, "since I have much better ideas how to spend our evening."

Eddie popped a grape in his mouth. "Funny," he mumbled around it, "so do I."

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 25 prompt : Frankenstein Friday

rated: G | cw: none | tags: new relationship, post s4, they’re both sweethearts

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Steve is surprised to hear the knock at his door. It’s evening and he was in the middle of doing laundry before heading to bed early; ready for work tomorrow.

The rains been pouring all day so he pulls on a newly clean hoodie of Eddie’s before answering the door.

Eddie is standing there. Raindrops glistening in his hair, having not quite permeated and sodden his curls yet.

He stands under Steve’s awning, wringing his hands and stamping the water from his shoes.

Steve blinks at him, surprised. ‘Hey Ed, everything okay?’

‘I want to invite you to Frankenstein Friday.’ Eddie rushes, eyebrows pinched. ‘I watched it every year with Wayne. But then I had to educate the people around me you know?’ He throws his arms out and just as quickly draws them back in. ‘So, um now on a Friday around Halloween we watch Young Frankenstein.’ He finishes, finally taking a deep breath.

He bites his lip, pulls at a lock of his hair. ‘And usually we get drunk. Me and uh, me and the Hellfire guys, you know?’ His words slower now, what he’d wanted to say out of his brain finally.

Steve, winces. ‘Uh, sure, yeah if you think they’d want me there. I mean, they’re a bit, you know.’ He looks down at his socks, crossing his arms. The shadow of King Steve is still very much in Eddie’s friends memories.

Eddie steps forward, reaching out to touch but then seems to think differently, pulling his hands back to his sides. ‘I know but, I want them to meet you, properly. To get to know how cool you are and uh, if you’re okay with it. I thought I could introduce you as my boyfriend?’ He says, eyes holding Steve’s, forced bravery in his wound muscles.

Steve’s cheeks heat slowly, eyes wide and mouth open. He feels butterflies burst in his rib cage. Warm sunshine drip through his veins.

He blinks, eyes glassy.

Wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and buries his face in his neck.

‘Okay.’ Steve mumbles.

‘Okay.’ Eddie laughs, hugging Steve close as the rain beats steady behind them.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Tag list (message to add / remove you) : @scoops-aboy86 @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone

@chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @chameleonhair

[sidekick-hero]

To die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine

steddie | rated: t | wc: 2k | written for @steddie-spooktober, prompt: rain | tags: established relationship, fluff, proposal | AO3

Sensations slowly seep into his awareness, even as his mind lingers in the depths of sleep. The light filtering through his closed eyelids tells him it’s already morning, and he can just make out the soft patter of rain falling on the tin roof of the shed in their backyard.

It’s comforting. He’s cocooned in his warm blanket, shielded from the downpour outside, while the comforting weight of Eddie’s arm draped over his waist and the warmth of his body against his back makes him want to stay put. Eddie’s breath is softly ruffling the fine hairs on the nape of his neck, his hand splayed across Steve’s stomach.

It’s amusing how, even after ten years together, they still wake up entwined more often than not. They can't seem to keep their hands off each other, not even in sleep. The thought makes Steve smile, as he’s once again struck by just how much he loves Eddie—and how unbelievably lucky he is to have found someone who, every single day, reassures him that he is loved just as fiercely in return.

With a gentle smile lingering, Steve carefully lifts the blanket and then Eddie’s arm, sliding out of bed without disturbing his boyfriend’s slumber. He stifles a laugh when, after a brief pause, Eddie sprawls across the warm spot Steve left behind.

After finishing his morning routine in the bathroom, Steve pulls on his running shorts and one of Eddie’s old t-shirts. It still carries Eddie's faint scent, and Steve pauses for a moment, eyes closed, breathing it in deeply. Smiling to himself, he scribbles a quick note, out for a run, will bring breakfast, love you, S, and grabs his shoes, keys, and some change from the coffee table.

The rain hasn’t let up, and it takes a bit of willpower to step outside into the downpour. But he knows that once his feet hit the pavement, the discomfort will fade. With one last glance at their warm, cozy house, where Eddie is likely still fast asleep—his face buried in Steve’s pillow, probably drooling all over it—Steve steps out and lets his body fall into the familiar rhythm of the run.

He starts slow, easing into a light jog to wake up his muscles and joints. In his late teens and early twenties, he never needed this kind of warm-up. Back then, he’d just take off running, his feet pounding the pavement with the confidence and energy of someone who seemed built for it—driven, always pushing for more.

Now, he sees his body differently. It’s no longer just a tool for winning trophies or proving his worth as captain of some team. He’s loved without needing to be at the top, and he no longer has to carry weapons to show his strength or devotion. Eddie’s hands and mouth worship every part of him, even the new softness around his middle, and Steve’s hands hold things like cooking spoons, grading pens, Eddie’s hand, his godson, or the book he’s reading to Max and Lucas’ daughter. No weapons.

Still, running is something he’s kept up over the years—not just to stay in shape, though he does appreciate the way it keeps his thighs muscular and his ass firm. His main reason is the peace it brings. Running quiets his mind, helps him sort through his thoughts, and gives him a sense of balance. No matter what the day throws at him, he knows he can always find his center during this hour, just him and the steady rhythm of his feet hitting the ground.

The rain pelts his face and the exposed skin of his arms and legs, but he doesn’t mind anymore. It’s the first day of October, and though the scorching summer days are long behind them, the cold hasn’t fully set in yet. The air is crisp, and mist rises over the treetops in the woods beyond their neighborhood, but twenty minutes into his run, the chill feels more invigorating than uncomfortable. His clothes cling to his damp skin, and his hair drips steadily, but he’s no longer focused on that. Instead, he relishes the steady rhythm of his body moving, his legs carrying him forward while his mind drifts, letting muscle memory take over.

At first, his thoughts had been practical—running through all the things he needed to get done today. He’d promised Luke, Dustin’s son and his godson, help with his Halloween costume. Robin had roped him into assisting with the flea market she’s organizing for the community center, likely in an attempt to impress Susan, her latest crush. Not that Robin would ever admit to having crushes, not at thirty, when they’re both certified adults with 40-hour workweeks. Eddie wanted to hit up the craft store later, something about a secret Halloween project he was working on, and Steve knew he’d regret agreeing to it but couldn’t resist when those big brown eyes worked their magic on him.

Gradually, these thoughts fade away as his feet continue pounding the wet pavement. His mind drifts, as it so often has in the past six months, to the small box hidden beneath their tax documents in a drawer in his office. It’s black, lined with velvet, and inside is a platinum band, engraved with words Dustin had helped him translate. Ae ú-esteliach nad… estelio han. Estelio ammen. When Dustin explained the meaning, Steve knew instantly it was what he wanted Eddie to remember every day, as he fiddled with the ring on his finger. If you trust nothing else, trust this. Trust us.

Steve knows he needs to trust in them too—trust their love enough to ask the question that’s been pressing against his heart since the day Eddie looked at him and said, “I love you, and it scares the shit outta me. But having my heart broken by you? It would still be my pleasure, my privilege to have loved you in the first place.” Steve had kissed him then, not because he didn’t want to say I love you in return, but because there had been more words that had come so close to tumbling out—Marry me. Be mine. Let me be yours. I want to live and die by your side.

He needs to believe that when he finally asks, Eddie will say yes, that they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.

When Steve rounds the corner onto the quiet cul-de-sac where their house sits, a bag of fresh pancakes from their favorite diner in hand, he still hasn’t come to a decision. He knows he wants Eddie to be his husband, whether legally or not. He knows Eddie loves him. They already share a bed, a house, a close circle of friends who feel more like family—a whole life together. Nothing needs to change.

And yet, something holds him back from saying those four simple words: Will you marry me?

Letting himself into the house, he kicks off his wet shoes and places them under the radiator to dry, thankful they'd already turned on the heat. After putting on some coffee, he slips into the shower while it brews, leaving the pancakes warm in the oven. The hot water chases away the lingering chill, and soon he’s dressed in comfortable sweatpants and yet another one of Eddie’s band tees that seem to be scattered around the house.

With a tray full of pancakes, two mugs of coffee, and some sliced fruit and cream, Steve heads upstairs. As he climbs the steps, his gaze falls on the door to his office. On a whim, he steps inside and pockets the little box that has been on his mind all morning.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he says when he reaches the bedroom. Eddie is awake, even though his eyes are still closed, but Steve can tell by the change in his breathing and the soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Have a nice run?” Eddie mumbles, eyes still shut, but his voice warm with affection. He knows Steve’s routine by heart, always paying attention, no matter how ordinary the details of his day might be.

Steve places the tray on the mattress beside Eddie and reaches out, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his boyfriend’s face. “It was good. Gave me some time to think.”

That gets Eddie to blink his eyes open. “Yeah? About what?”

“You,” Steve says with a smile, leaning down to kiss him.

Eddie hums into the kiss, a contented sound. “Only good things, I hope.”

“Mmhmm,” Steve murmurs in agreement. “I was thinking about your Halloween project—about how much I love the chaos and excitement you bring into my life. And about how great you are with Luke and Leia, and how much I’m looking forward to taking them trick-or-treating with you. I was thinking about how perfect our life is, how happy I am, and how much I want to call you my husband. How I want to celebrate our love with our friends, dance with you to The Smiths. To die by your side—well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.”

Eddie sits up during Steve’s little speech, his eyes wide and unblinking. The morning light filters into their bedroom, the storm clouds having cleared, leaving the sun to bathe the room in its warmth.

“Stevie, are you… is this…”

Steve pulls the box from his pocket and opens it to reveal the ring inside. “This is me asking you to trust me to make you happy, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of our lives.” He takes Eddie’s trembling hand, kissing the back of it tenderly before looking up at him with his lips still pressed to the soft skin. “Eddie Munson, will you marry me?”

Eddie stays silent, his eyes drinking in the sight of Steve kneeling by the bed, hair still damp and tousled, wearing one of Eddie’s shirts. In that moment, Steve is struck again by how much he wants this for the rest of his life. He takes the ring from the box and places it in Eddie’s palm, eager for him to see the engraving. Those nimble fingers—fingers Steve has felt on his skin countless times, has watched create and hold with such care—gently lift the platinum band. Eddie turns it, inspecting it in the morning light until the sun catches the words inscribed inside.

Leaning closer, Eddie whispers the inscription softly, the foreign words rolling off his tongue in a way that sends a shiver of admiration and desire through Steve.

He repeats the words in English this time. "If you trust nothing else, trust this. Trust us." Eddie looks up from the ring, searching Steve’s gaze. “Oh, Steve. I don’t know what to say. This is…”

Steve has seen Eddie speechless maybe a handful of times in all the years they’ve been together, and never quite like this. It gives him the courage to say, “You could put me out of my misery and just say yes.”

Eddie gapes at him, his mouth opening and closing before he bursts into laughter—a sound so full of joy that it fills the room with warmth.

That finally breaks the spell. Steve barely manages to push the tray aside before Eddie is in his arms, laughing through his words. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, you idiot, of course I want to marry you,” he murmurs into Steve’s neck.

The days may be growing colder and darker now, but Steve knows he has all the warmth and light he’ll ever need, right here in his arms—Eddie, trusting him, trusting them to last long after the seasons change once more.

[fkinkindagauche]

A Ghost In Giant Sneakers, Laughing, Stars Around His Head

I finally got around to writing this one for Day 6 of @steddie-spooktober "haunted". Title is from "Joy" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 1,641 | CW: None | Tags: Ghost Eddie Munson, Hand Jobs

It had been a long, boring day at Family Video, and Steve had once again failed to find a date to help him unwind. There had been options, sure, but none of them had piqued his interest. It had been a serious problem lately, and Robin told him he’d gotten way too picky. But the girls of Hawkins just didn’t seem to be doing it for him anymore.

That's how he found himself on a Friday night, laying on his bed in just his boxers, in his parents’ house that they hardly ever returned to, completely alone. He trailed a hand down his stomach, stroking lightly through the hair beneath his belly button. He could at least still help himself unwind.

He stuck a hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers, taking his half-hard cock in hand and giving it a few experimental strokes. He felt himself quickly growing hard, fully erect in no time. His interest in the girls of Hawkins may have waned, but his horniness definitely hadn’t.

He let out a little moan as he felt precum start to bead at the tip of his cock, swiping it up with his fingers and using it to slick his strokes. He started to stroke faster, twisting a little at the tip the way he liked. As pleasure started to build in his lower belly, he found himself thinking about broad shoulders, a skinny waist, curly brown hair, dimples.

He stopped his strokes, shaking his head vigorously. What the fuck. Boobies, Steve, he told himself. Think about boobies.

He resumed his stroking, trying to picture boobs. It worked, mostly, and he found himself inching closer to orgasm, almost there, when he was interrupted by a voice.

“Watcha up to, big boy?”

Steve screamed, hand coming out of his boxers as he sat up to see that Eddie’s ghost had materialized in his bedroom. He was wearing the same clothes he'd died in, complete with blood stains, though he was monochrome now, looking like he'd walked straight out of a black and white movie.

“What the fuck, Eddie! What did we say about privacy?” Steve yelled, pulling a blanket up above his waist to hide his erection.

“Well, I can’t exactly knock, Stevie. I’m incorporeal,” Eddie said, giving Steve a mischievous smile.

Steve glared at him. “I don’t even understand why you’re haunting my house. You didn’t die here; you’d never even been here before you died. We barely even knew each other until you started haunting me! Can’t you go haunt Henderson?”

Eddie shrugged. “I go to his place sometimes. But I like it better here. Living in a luxury I never had while I was alive.”

“You’re incorporeal!” Steve threw back at him. “You can’t even enjoy the luxury.”

“That’s just hurtful. And anti-ghost,” Eddie said, pouting.

Steve sighed and dropped his face in his hands. His erection was long gone, and he wouldn’t be able to get back in the mood knowing Eddie was lurking around. He moved to get out of his bed, but before he could Eddie spoke again.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, smirking. “You were making such lovely noises.”

“You were listening to me?” Steve asked, scandalized.

“I mean, you’re pretty loud. Kind of hard not to listen,” Eddie said, making Steve blush. “Who were you thinking about, Stevie?”

“Boobs,” Steve blurted, trying to keep his mind far away from who he’d been thinking about before the boobs.

“Just, like, generic disembodied boobs?” Eddie asked, skeptical.

“Yeah. You know. Good ones.”

Eddie shrugged. “Can’t say boobs ever really did it for me, but whatever floats your boat I guess.’

Steve looked up at Eddie sharply. “What do you mean, ‘boobs never really did it for you’?”

“I’m more of a dick man,” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “You mean you’re gay?”

Eddie looked a little skittish, eyes darting from side to side, then he shrugged again. “Yeah. I guess there’s no real reason to stay in the closet anymore. What’s the worst someone could do if they found out? Kill me?” He gave Steve a lopsided grin.

Steve was side-lined by Eddie’s honesty, which was the only reason he could think of to explain what he said next. “I’ve been wondering lately if I’m actually a boobs and dick man.”

It was Eddie’s turn to raise his eyebrows this time. “Really? Steve Harrington, ladies’ man? A bisexual?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Steve muttered, blushing again.

“It means you like both – boys and girls,” Eddie explained, floating over to perch on the bed beside Steve.

“Oh, then, yeah. Probably,” he admitted.

“Do you think about boys sometimes while you’re touching yourself?” Eddie asked, leaning closer to Steve. It was always weird to be close to Eddie as a ghost. He’d been such a tactile person, so it felt wrong to have him right there and unable to touch.

“Y-yes,” Steve admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“What kinds of boys?” Eddie asked.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. Skinny ones?”

Eddie smirked. “What do the boys do to you?”

Steve panicked. “I haven’t really gotten that far. I just, sort of, think about their bodies, what it would feel like to touch them. To be touched by them.”

“Do you think they’d touch you differently than a girl?” Eddie asked, voice sultry. Steve could feel his erection coming back, starting to tent the thin blanket he’d pulled over himself. Eddie’s eyes glanced down, then back up to Steve’s face as he smirked.

“Here’s how I’d touch you, if I could. First, I’d run my hands up and down your sides, like this.” He reached out and moved his hands over Steve’s sides. It looked like he was touching Steve, but all Steve felt was a vague chill. “You should do it, with your hands,” Eddie encouraged. “See how it feels.”

Steve let go of the blanket he was desperately clutching and moved his hands to his sides, putting them exactly where Eddie’s were. He could see a vague blurry outline of Eddie's hands overlaying his own, long, nimble fingers with too many rings. Steve's own hands were warm and familiar, but when paired with the image of Eddie's hands, they sent a less familiar thrill through his body.

“I'd probably kiss you next,” Eddie said, leaning his face forward toward Steve's, stopping just short of his lips. “Unfortunately that's a little harder to simulate.” Eddie's eyes looked sad, but one side of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. It was jarring to have Eddie talking against his lips, and not feel even a brief puff of air.

One of Eddie's hands started to move, Steve catching sight of it out of the corner of his eye, and he moved his own hand to track Eddie's progress, down, down, trailing through the hair beneath his belly button. He paused at the waistband of Steve's boxers. 

“You're gonna have to take the next step here if you want to keep going,” Eddie said, voice deeper and less teasing. “But what I would do, if I could, is slide your boxers down, so I could see you.” 

Steve took a shaky breath, bolstering his courage, then grabbed his boxers and pulled them down, freeing his now fully hard cock. Eddie's eyes widened as he took him in. “The girls weren't lying about this aspect of the Harrington charm,” Eddie said.

Steve paused, hands held in the air, as he waited for Eddie's next direction. Eddie licked his lips and looked back up at Steve's face. 

“I would grab hold of you, like this,” Eddie said, reaching a hand out to encircle the base of Steve's cock. Steve put his hand into Eddie's, feeling the strange chill, and took hold of himself. “Then I would start to stroke,” Eddie said, hand moving up toward the head of Steve’s cock, palm ghosting over the buildup of precum. Steve's hand followed, collecting the moisture, continuing back down again as Eddie’s hand did as well.

“Do you like it fast or slow, Stevie?” Eddie asked, eyes smoldering. 

“S-slow, at first,” Steve managed to force out. Eddie nodded, starting up a slow stroking that Steve followed with his own hand. 

“I have calluses on my hands and fingers, from playing the guitar, but you'll just have to imagine those, with your pampered rich boy hands,” Eddie whispered near Steve's ear. Steve snorted, but found himself wanting to feel those calluses. He tried to imagine them, the roughness against the soft skin of his cock.

Steve's breaths started to come more heavily, pleasure building in his core. “Faster, now,” Eddie whispered, increasing the pace. “Tighter. I'd squeeze you so tight it almost hurts.” Steve moaned, and squeezed his hand tight enough to be just on the pleasurable side of pain. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve said, feeling an orgasm building. 

“Now I'd use my free hand to play with your perfect nipples, pinching and rolling them between my fingers,” Eddie said, moving his hand up. Steve groaned, picking up his pace. “Do it. Touch them for me,” Eddie commanded. Steve complied, pinching his nipples with his free hand until they were red and hard. 

“Eddie,” Steve said. “‘M gonna come.”

“Yeah, baby, wanna see it. Come for me,” Eddie said, and it sent Steve over the edge, coming all over his hand and stomach, harder than he'd come in ages. He shook through his orgasm, continuing to follow Eddie's hand with his own as Eddie simulated stroking him through his orgasm, wringing out every last drop.

Steve collapsed back onto the bed when Eddie's hand finally retreated. “That was fucking amazing,” Steve said.

“Yeah? Enough to finally make you stop bitching about me showing up unannounced?” Eddie asked, smiling.

“If you do that every time? Definitely.”

[sweatycreature]

On the job

@steddie-spooktober Day 6: Haunted

Getting together, while Steve and Eddie are trying to work on a haunted house.

„This is our biggest chance yet, Steve! Of course, I want everything to be perfect” Dustin yelled after Steve, as he was already hauling their equipment inside the house.

Dustin started working on haunted houses right after college and Steve was quick to follow him. He basically worked as Dustin’s strong-man, moving his heavier things and documenting everything. They worked in famously haunted locations for the most part, so this was a new experience. A home that is supposedly haunted and is still uncontaminated by other ghost hunters trying to contact the spirits.

The homeowner contacted them, in the hopes of them getting rid of the entity. She is also called a ghost hunter, who has a more spiritual point of view, from what Steve got from Dustin’s rundown on their current job. Dustin usually didn’t bother with actually talking to the spirits, he had the belief that it was enough for him to scientifically prove their existence, without communicating with them.

They already set up their base in the dining room, when the front door flung open and someone walked in with confident steps.

„Hello, is anyone here already?” The intruder asked, and Dustin was already on his way to meet the guy.

They walked back towards where Steve was working on their logging and he finally had the opportunity to look at their partner for the job. The guy wore a leather jacket with a white, demon-graphic patterned shirt. His hair was tied up in a bun and he was accessorized to oblivion.

The man spotted Steve and a charming smile appeared on his face and he hurried to him.

„Well hello, I’m Eddie and you are?” He asked

„I’m Steve.” He held out his hand towards Eddie.

„Steve, it is a pleasure meeting you.” Eddie smiled at him and took Steve’s hand in his, kissing it. He had a hungry look in his eyes as he watched Steve blush at his antics.

Eddie was hot and charming. He understood what it was like to have their weird job, basically, he was kinda everything Steve was searching for these days. Maybe if the night went well, Steve could leave Eddie with his number.

„Alright, Steve’s hot, we get it. Now let me show you around the house and we should also talk about what we had planned for the night.” Dustin disrupted them and led Eddie upstairs.

Dustin was going around reading his instruments for a baseline, so Steve was left alone with Eddie sitting around the table. Steve was trying to busy himself so he wouldn’t embarrass himself anymore, but clearly, Eddie had different plans.

„So you’re kinda like that hot, sexy guy who picks up the phone, like in Ghostbusters?” He looked at Steve with a mischievous smirk.

„I’m here to handle the heavy stuff and record when things start to happen. What are you here to do again?” Steve regretted his tone, as Eddie looked shocked at him, maybe his bitchiness was not for him. However, Eddie’s face melted into a wide Cheshire-like grin right away.

„I’m here to contact what’s already trying to reach out. But I could also use a beautiful guy following me around if you’re looking for a new job.” He finished his speech off with a wink and Steve could feel his face heating up again.

They heard Dustin walk down the stairs. „Okaaay, that’s more than enough of that. Let’s stop the flirting for a bit. Can we focus on the task at hand? It’s getting dark outside.”

They had a specific routine for the first nights. Walk around like normal, act as if you live there, and hope for some sort of apparition- So they did just that. Steve made themselves some pasta and they ate in silence, listening out for any sounds from upstairs. When they didn’t hear anything, they moved upstairs, where the owner said the haunting usually was stronger.

Dustin decided to take a shower, while Steve took a last look at their things, making sure everything was working. Eddie took one of his bags and set up candles all around the main bedroom and invited them to watch him work. They sat on the bed, while Eddie sat down on the floor, and turned on his spirit box.

„…Eddie…pathetic….” it ’said’, or at the least, Steve thought it sounded like.

„Who am I talking to?” asked Eddie.

„…Chris…”

„Okay, could you please tell me if there’s someone with you?”

„Wait, shouldn’t we talk to this Chris? Maybe they are what we’re looking for.” - Dustin exclaimed excitedly, bouncing on the bed.

„No, Chrissy is just a spirit who follows me around, she’s great with looking for a spirit that doesn’t really want to show itself” Eddie explained as he wrote down something in his journal.

„And why is she calling you pathetic?” Steve asked him.

„She just likes to bully me a little, that’s all.”

„….Steve…..like…..”

„Ooh, she likes you Steve!” Dustin said, showing Steve with his shoulder.

„…..Eddie…..better….game….”

„Thanks Chrissy, it’s not exactly like that.” Steve shoots Eddie a curious glance. „She’s making fun of my lack of game, and that I can’t get a date with you.”

„We’ll see, maybe Chrissy can make a case for you.” He smiled down at Eddie and the spirit box as if it was Chrissy’s embodiment. Eddie looked delighted, by the

„…Funny….geek….embarrassing….„ she listed, and Steve laughed at the way Eddie acted hurt with one hand on his heart and his mouth hanging open. He beamed up at Steve and saw the way Dustin was staring daggers into him.

„Well, maybe we should talk about this in the morning? We have a ghost to catch, right Dustin?”