#steddie the proposal au

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

The Proposal - Epilogue

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Modern Au, Part 7 of 7. 1920 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack.

Authors Note: Our love story is wrapping up now, dear readers. I hope you have enjoyed. ❤️

Steve just barely manages to contain his snickering from his position curled up on Eddie’s stomach.

He’s spent the last several minutes doing so, while also attempting to sort the disarray that the other man’s long hair had fallen into in their tryst, the brunette curls splayed out haphazardly on the pillow resting behind his head.

Eddie is letting him do both, laid out on his back beneath Steve with a hand thrown over him to cup his bare hip. He’s been poorly pretending for the same amount of time that Steve’s been fussing over him, that he’s not completely out of breath.

The longer that his efforts to be subtle go on, the more Steve’s snickering takes on life, rolling into something akin to actual laughter. He feels like since he’s let Eddie in, that he’s never stopped.

Eddie lets him enjoy it, even as he weakly tells him. “That’s no way to treat your husband after he just showed you a good time, sweetheart.”

Biting his lip in reply, Steve’s touch becomes even gentler as he kisses the slight pudge of Eddie’s belly which has made the world’s most inviting pillow for him. “You are absolutely right, vita mia.”

Eddie smiles fondly down at Steve, raising an eyebrow at the mild surprise of not being corrected, for once. “So…sweetheart’s okay, huh? I like it. Simple but effective.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Eddie’s belly rumbles beneath him with his laughter. “There he is.” Eddie reaches down with the hand not already wrapped around him in order to cradle his jaw. “God, you’re so pretty when you do that. How’d I get so lucky?” He asks.

Steve can’t truly hear what he’s saying - he’s speaking too low - but he can feel the words vibrating beneath his ear as he lays on Eddie…knows that they’re dripping with love.

And it hardly matters what words he offers, when Steve can clearly see in the low glow from the city outside their window when Eddie has mercy on him and signs for him, ‘I love you.’

Steve smiles, and mumbles back. “I love you too.” Warm all over.

And while the two of them had been going at different paces for sure in their efforts to learn ASL. (Robin’s suggestion out of consideration for Steve, who spoke English and Italian both perfectly well, but sometimes missed the answers said back to him.) It was still a happy fact of Steve’s life that the sweet sentiments that Eddie would offer with his hands were never lost to him.

Eddie hums softly then, glancing up as he thinks out loud. “I think I’ve loved you for a while. But I knew for sure when Wayne insisted I fight for us. I was so gone for you, and here you were, with the approval of the person whose opinion matters most. It all solidified for me then.”

Steve melts at his confession, peppering little kisses to Eddie’s tummy that make him giggle. His eyes rake over Steve - tantalizing muscle, little brown moles, and a smattering of freckles all on display but beyond that…There was evidence of Eddie’s love there in Steve’s tan skin. All marked up from his neck downwards, enthusiastic purple splotches where Eddie had taken his tongue and teeth and mapped out his claim on the man atop him, while he asked, “When did you realize?”

“I don’t want to say.” Steve replies, leaving one last little kiss, his tone indicative of his withholding something.

Eddie’s ears perk up at that, “Oh come on!” He teases. “It can’t be that bad. What was it? When you listened to the demo all the way through and realized I’m a bard in the most irresistible of forms?”

“No, not then. But you know I could wax poetic about the sounds you coax out of your guitar.” Steve teases him lightly.

Eddie huffs, “Fine. Not that then…So, what? Did you look at my ass when I bent over to put the little ‘sign here’ tabs on your papers? Couldn’t go another moment without me being yours?”

Steve shakes his head, asking “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!” Eddie all-but shouts.

Steve purses his lips. Telling him mercilessly, “It was when you cried at the end of Free Willy.”

“No!” Eddie gasps, lamenting. “Say it isn’t so.”

“Sorry sweetheart, that’s my moment. I saw you tearing up, and I just knew.” Steve says sheepishly.

“I take it back. I don’t love you, you horrible horrible man. I despise you.” Eddie lies, so much love in his eyes as he says it that Steve almost can’t bear it.

“I despise you more.” Steve replies, as easily as he’d told him he loved him just moments before, the words not holding an ounce of truth, unlike his declaration of said love had.

Eddie snorts, gleefully reminding him. “Hah! Jokes on you. You married me.”

Steve groans loudly in reply, feigning horror as he gasps. “Is it too late to flee the country?”

Eddie makes every effort to sit up at that, wrestling Steve into the bed to tickle him senselessly, until both of them are dissolved in giggles, in full honeymoon bliss.

They had maintained it for a while now, with no signs of stopping.

Con behind them, they had awoken on their wedding day in separate beds as planned, before meeting for photographs, all dressed up for the occasion.

Steve in white, his suit well tailored and - admittedly - a little slutty. It had looked mostly unassuming from the front - with a deep cut that showed off Steve’s bare, hairy chest and an assortment of metal chains borrowed from Eddie and Robin, to Eddie’s utter delight…but then when he’d spun at Eddie’s encouraging wolf whistle and he’d seen the back of it.

Oh the back of it…With an intricate spine of fabric, there were details of climbing lace vines and blooms, skin showing intermittently throughout where the cut strategically showed off the tan planes of Steve’s back…The edge of the suit jacket stopping high enough that Eddie could see how well his pants hugged his ass…the man in white just on the wrong side of smug at how sexy it made him look.

Which, understandably, made Eddie feral.

Eddie, who had been himself swathed in black, in an admittedly simpler suit - but one that boasted a sewn in cape that had flowed behind Eddie like a veil draped across his back.

The black fabric was lined along where it rested on his shoulders, as well as all of its edges, continuing to be further split by that same lining down the middle in a dark, glittering embroidery of those same vines and blooms.

Eddie’s hair was fixed with little buds peeking out in a careful placement, and he wore no rings. Waiting anxiously for Steve to put one on him.

He made an elegant, dark compliment to the borderline sinfully angelic picture that his soon-to-be husband made.

Who, in himself, was not immune to the image - salivating over Eddie, his veins thrumming with his own barely contained lust, the pair of them only staying the course thanks to Johnathan.

Johnathan, the only one they trusted to take the photos for them ever again. Who mercifully dismissed them once they had their shots, only for them to arrive at the courthouse steps one - very handsy - cab ride later.

Flushed, giddy, and happy, they had gotten married from there in a simple ceremony largely outshined by their clothing, with the two required witnesses.

Robin, and Wayne (who Steve had flown in,) had both watched them exchange vows before a judge, and had oh so smugly signed to attest to so.

Steve proudly kept the marriage certificate close when it was done, emotional, while Eddie had found it unreasonably cute, and had kissed him about it.

After posing for a few more photos, taken on Robin’s phone at her insistence, the four of them had all gone out for drinks to celebrate.

In their formal attire and all, Robin and Eddie - or rather, Robin and Batman, played with Eddie’s cape while careening through the city streets like a couple of unhinged toddlers.

Unhinged toddlers whom Steve loved very much, but still. He had merely shaken his head at them and their revelry as Wayne walked with him, their arms linked together as they had been the night of Wayne’s birthday all those weeks ago, when he had paraded Steve proudly in just the same way.

In those moments, when no one could see or hear them, Steve thanked him. For his kindness, his acceptance - and the hand he’d had in making Eddie such a good man.

Wayne had bristled, unable to accept, only thanking Steve for loving his boy. For being brave enough to take that leap, and to have him in a way that linked them all as family from now on.

For better or worse it seemed, Steve was under his wing now - and consequently, so was Robin. A fact made clearer and funnier by the fact that Wayne used that influence to land Robin with the phone number of the prettiest girl in the bar later that night.

Go figure.

By the time the family of four had had their fill of drinks and conversation and had parted ways, Robin went back to her apartment where she would call Steve in the morning stressed about how soon was too soon to call a girl.

In turn the married folks headed off to Central Park West, having sent Uncle Wayne to his hotel…but only after a generous teasing from him, to which Eddie had been snarky in his playful reply.

“Hey, fuck you old man, I bagged Steve Harrington.” Eddie had laughed. Turning from where he was putting his uncle in his cab and shouting loudly. “You hear that world!?! I bagged Steve Harrington! Whoo!”

A random drunkard on the block also whooped, and an embarrassed Steve pulled Eddie along, more eager to get his husband home than he was to encroach on his joy.

Eddie readily obliged him, just as he always had.

The two had then gone home that night, falling into bed at the start of their lives together.

Lives that would look completely different in a few years to be sure, not just from where they had started, or from where they were now, but also from how the two of them had always pictured.

But life is funny that way. And with Eddie’s US tour, and Steve toting around the first of many little nuggets…While it wasn’t the life that they might have planned exactly…

Being together, with their family, their little one eventually seeing the world with them via tour buses (in which Eddie claimed the best seat, always.) And airplanes (where Steve got the window seat, always)…Or whatever mode that she and her eventual siblings would grow up traveling by, and making memories on…

The fact of it was always the same. Eddie and Steve together, two doting dads of a bunch of hellions. Who rapidly signed details about what they’d seen and how they’d been over dinner, whether it was laid out in those tour buses, on the planes, in fancy restaurants, or wherever else they found themselves…The details didn’t matter.

Because as it was, it was the best of both of their dreams. Everything that they had never dared to let themselves want during the years of paper-clips and pointless meetings that could have been emails.

And it was perfect.

— La fine. —

Series Masterlist

Previous Part: Part 6

[strawberryspence]

i've got you under my skin - The Proposal AU

Chapter 3: it takes two

“Me what?” Eddie screams over the drums.

“Chant!” Dustin encourages.

“Chant what?!” Eddie squeaks back.

Dustin stammers, “W—Whatever comes to you! It is the way!”

Or: It's finally Eddie's time to shine.

Excerpt:

Eddie gapes at him before moving closer and then jolting back when something hits his ass, “Oh my god! Don’t tell me that’s your—!”

“I’m sorry! It’s morning!” Steve winces apologetically at him.

“What do you mean, “It’s morning”? Mine’s not hard?!” Eddie rages on.

(ps. i also added another chapter)

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

[alleiwentcrazy]

Eddie hates it when people don’t answer his calls. He hates it with passion.

It reminds him of too many things. It reminds him of manhunts and abandoned sheds, and no one on the other side of the line. It reminds him of cold, clammy hands, of hunger, of fear. Breaking bones and eldritch horrors he’d thought existed solely in cheap movies, not in real life, until he was brutally made aware of the fact that when people say everything’s possible, everything is possible.

Every time someone doesn’t answer the phone when he calls, panic starts to boil inside his veins and his brain immediately makes at least a dozen painful scenarios for him to dwell on. He knows that technically, they just don’t know that it’s him. But it doesn’t make him worry any less, so everyone’s learned to respect the rule. They just have to pick up. No matter what. Or he’ll freak out, drop everything he’s doing and come unexpectedly to check if everything’s alright.

There hasn’t been a single situation when things were actually bad—people go get groceries, take solid, deep naps, or they’re simply too lazy to pick up sometimes—but he always does that. Always.

Especially if it’s Steve who doesn’t answer. What if he fell? Or someone mugged him? Or he got into a fight? This brain can’t take any more damage. What if he’s in the hospital now, waiting to be anesthetized before surgery, and no one’s called Eddie yet, because to society they’re just some dudes living together?

There are too many options. Eddie doesn’t like taking chances anymore, so he slaps the “I’ll be back in a few” sign on the door, closes the shop and speeds through the town like he has nothing to lose. (And it’s quite stupid, because he has too many things to lose now—but he’s allowed to freak out once in a while.)

When he gets there and sees Steve pacing and gesturing animatedly in front of the window of their tiny but awfully cluttered kitchen, he finds out exactly what it means to have the whole world on your shoulders. Or, rather, to be finally freed from the pressure it creates.

It’s okay. It’s just a stupid phone call. It wasn’t even important, anyway.

Despite that, he takes his helmet off. Won’t hurt to remind Steve of the rule. And maybe kiss his pretty face a little while he’s here.

He doesn’t even have to enter their apartment to know that Steve’s not alone. First off – if Steve’s pacing and rambling, an anxious trait he’s picked up from Robin, wasn’t a hint enough – it’s loud. Their paper walls can barely hold back a normal conversation, let alone something resemblant of a heated discussion. Honestly, Eddie has no idea how their neighbors can stand them sometimes, with his metal, their late-night conversations and non-conversations alike, with the kids visiting so often. Although Steve is optimistic (they have some lovely neighbors, like sweet Gran Fran, but don’t ever let Eddie express his opinions about that old hag from across the hallway, Miss Hermans), he’s still waiting for that complaint to be filed.

Second, he smells coffee. Steve never makes coffee for just himself.

Eddie opens the door gingerly, remembering how easy it is to completely unhinge them by accident, and is about to scream something about getting home, when none other than Dustin Henderson cuts him off with a shriek.

“—because it’s actually pathetic, that’s why! Get a grip, man, just do it!”

“Oh, it’s so easy for you to say, because you’ve never actually tried—”

“And maybe I never will! If you won’t do it, how can I learn how to do it myself? You know that you guys are the closest thing to father figures!”

“Hey, don’t make it about yourself for once, maybe? Some humility?”

Dustin’s quiet for a second, but Eddie knows he’s not about to admit full defeat. “Yes, sorry,” he chokes out, finally. “But you’ve tried so many times, you should know that it doesn’t get any easier on another try. Just do it, it doesn’t matter how.”

“It does, though! To me, it—it does. It matters,” Steve mumbles back, and Eddie can picture his face in perfect detail. It’s Steve’s small voice, which means he’s worried about something, even though his worry doesn’t make any sense in everyone else’s eyes. He’s unsure: his brows are pinched, lips pursed, stare skittering around the room, never focusing on anything. Dustin knows this face too, because his tone gets softer.

“Okay, then walk me through it.”

“What?”

“Walk me through it. You’ll know what you want, how you want it, when and where, and it’ll be easier when you try it next time.”

“Dustin, I really don’t—I’m not sure it can get easier, ever.”

“Because you’re scared.”

Steve sighs deeply before he responds. “Yes. Because I’m scared.”

“It’s been eight years, Steve. What are you scared of?” Dustin’s voice is gentle, curious. He’s not judging, he genuinely wants to know the reasons, and so does Eddie. He leans against the wall, trying to sneak a peek of the kitchen unsuccessfully, and listens. A while passes before Steve speaks again.

“I think—There are so many things I’m afraid of. But the main one… It’s still rejection. Not being enough. Because it’s not like it’s anything formal, right? It’s only a promise, and if it ends up turned down…”

Chair legs scrape the floor and Eddie can hear two soft slaps – hands on shoulders, probably.

“Steve Harrington. Calm down. You know it’s not going to happen—no, don’t argue. I know it, and this alone should be enough. You are an amazing person. You’re great with people, you’re bright, you’re sweet, caring, you have so many talents. I love you, Steve,” the pause that follows is filled with something so heavy there’s a shift in the air. It has a different smell now. A little salty, a little warm. “And he loves you. More than you can imagine, probably. So just pop the question, Steve. And don’t back out with some stupid excuse like this morning.”

“Pop the question,” Steve says, his voice firm, only a little timid. “Yes, I think—I think I can do that.”

Eddie bounces off the wall and takes quiet, slow steps backwards. He can’t hear anything else, even though the conversation continues. He bites his tongue hard enough to make it bleed a little. A coppery taste floods his mouth as he closes the door.

Oh, it’s just so, so stupid. He would have said yes. Each and every time, he would have said yes.

*

Later that day, when they’re lying in bed together, with the sheets rumpled, their bodies warm and mushy from the nap, with Eddie’s lips on Steve’s and Steve’s hands in Eddie’s hair, Eddie remembers the overheard conversation.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Because he hasn’t stopped thinking about it ever since.

Every single second of what, at first, seemed to be yet another annoying Monday, has been filled with reverie and anticipation. Dustin’s right – Eddie loves Steve. He loves him enough to risk hell for him, enough to argue with anyone who’s in any way mean to him. Enough to take his hand and say “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m with you”, even though Eddie’s the biggest coward in the whole wide world.

Eddie loves him. Loves his goofy smiles and scrunched happy faces, loves his moles and the uneven mustache he grows out sometimes when he’s bored. Eddie loves how gentle Steve is, how thoughtful and kind-hearted he is. How he helps Gran Fran replant her flowers each month with more enthusiasm than Eddie’s ever shown to anyone. How he talks to children, how much respect he has for those undermined by everyone else.

Eddie loves how he’s learned to stand up for himself. He’s proud of Steve, of how much he’s grown, of how he knows how to express what he needs and what he wants now. Eddie’s loved him for ages, maybe even longer than he’s aware of, but every single significant and insignificant change in Steve’s behavior and point of view makes him fall a little bit harder, every time. In any shape, in any form, there’s one constant in Eddie’s life: his love for Steve.

He likes to think that they do that to each other, both of them. That they help each other through inevitable changes, painful regressions and euphoric victories alike. He likes to think that together, they make one, healthy, living being – and apart they’re good, because they’ve grown to be good people thanks to the connections they’ve made overall. He likes this idea of just being good, together and apart. And he loves Steve for giving him the opportunity to be just that.

Eddie wants it to last. Desperately, intensely, madly. He wants it to last and he needs it to keep happening – he knows that, and he knows he has the capacity to do that. To be there, to stay. His hands touch Steve’s thigh, not in the slightest covered by those silly Hawkins Tigers shorts he’s kept, then they touch Steve’s soft, scarred belly, then they touch his chest, where his heart is beating steadily and peacefully, and he keeps kissing him and Steve keeps clingling back to him, and Eddie’s so sure.

He wants this. He wants to experience growing old together, he wants them to get all wrinkly and bald together, he wants the fights over who gets the most comfortable chair in their grandkids’ living room. He wants them to experience the highs and the lows of the family that they already have, and the one they’re going to build someday.

Eddie wants this. He wants Steve. The whole deal; the promised forever. And he doesn’t want to wait another second.

“Steve,” Eddie says, cutting the kiss short so suddenly Steve actually pulls him closer, chasing after the warmth of his lips. “I’m saying yes.”

“Mm. Okay,” he mumbles back, too kiss- and sleep-hazy to catch Eddie’s intention right away. He tries to bump their noses together—which is adorable, really, but Eddie can’t let him hijack and self-sabotage this proposal too.

“No, Steve,” he squeezes Steve’s side until he looks at him properly. “I love you. I’m saying yes.”

In awe, Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through confusion, true bewilderment, a bit of fear and fleeting exhilaration, to finally settle on disbelief.

“How did you—”

Eddie laughs a little at that. “I called and you didn’t pick up.” Steve makes a little oh sound, already looking like a kicked puppy. “But it’s okay, doesn’t matter, not the point,” Eddie jumps in, anticipating an unnecessary apology. “The point is, I love you, and I’m saying yes.”

Steve stares at him for a long second, his eyes wide and earnest. His fingers slide from Eddie’s hair to finally settle on both of his cheeks, cradling them lovingly. Eddie kinda wants to cry.

“You’ll marry me?” Steve asks, incredulous, his voice only a bit louder than a whisper. The way he accentuates the word “marry” gives yet another layer of meaning to such a simple question. You’ll love me? Forever?

“I’ll marry you,” he replies without hesitation. “You’ll marry me?” You’ll love me? With my flaws?

“I’ll marry you,” Steve says back. Then he grins with his eyes glistening in the bedside light, and squishes Eddie’s cheeks so hard it squeezes the unshed tear right from his eye. “We’ll get married!”

Steve giggles happily, and Eddie laughs with him. There’s so much joy inside him—them, the whole room seems to get bigger. “We will,” he adds through a smile, already peppering his fiancé’s face with kisses.

“Oh gosh, I have to call Robin,” Steve manages through his giggles and Eddie loves him so much. “And Dustin!”

So, so much.

[nburkhardt]

Maybe he’ll blame it on his wording or maybe blame it on the lack of romantic setting. Maybe he could blame it on the crowd around them.

Because he didn’t want to think of the answer being no. If that were the case, he might just die of a broken heart.

Steve’s first ‘girlfriend’ was this adorable little red head girl when he was five. Actually, when he thinks about it she wasn’t his ‘girlfriend’ but actually his little ‘boyfriend’ because she thought it was funny to call him ‘girlfriend’ instead and she wanted to be called ‘boyfriend’ which he gladly did. He remembers her pretty clearly because she was also his best friend at the time, her name is Delilah. He hasn’t seen her in years, hopes she’s okay and happy. The way she called him ‘girlfriend’ is probably what started his secret love of feminine names for himself.

He thinks that was probably his easiest “relationship” mostly because well, he was five. He remembers asking her to play and that was it. They were attached at the hip, Delilah’s mom would pick him up from his house when demanded and then he’d spend the rest of his day with Delilah and her family. Some of his best childhood memories are with them.

It’s probably the blueprint for his relationship to Eddie.

Expect, Eddie asked him to smoke one random day and then suddenly he’s being called ‘baby girl’ and ‘darling’. It made his heart beat so much faster and his cheeks run hot. Eddie wouldn’t demand him to come over, just wouldn’t let him leave most nights. They’d have late dinners with Wayne and enjoy quiet nights together and lazy mornings. He’s truly his happiest with the Munson family.

So, despite the fact that legally they can’t get married, he decided to get a ring and ask Eddie anyway.

Finding the perfect ring wasn’t as hard as he’s heard. Maybe it’s because he knows Eddie, knows what he hates and loves. Or maybe it’s just that the first ring he saw was perfect for Eddie. As soon as he saw it, his brain immediately came up with images of Eddie wearing it. When the sells person asked about his own ring, he declined and said he’ll pick something out later.

Eddie’s the one that’s good with creating a story, especially off the top of his head. So instead of coming up with anything like that, he’s planning on just laying it all out and hoping for the best. He swears to mention how much he loves Eddie, talk about their future and so much more.

He doesn’t bother hiding that he’s with Eddie when they get into the restaurant, it’s pretty common now for the two of them to be seen together. Most people don’t even look twice at them anymore, there’s of course still one or two. But it doesn’t bother them much.

It’s not the most romantic restaurant, just the little diner in town. Because Enzo’s was already busy plus the owner shoots glares at them even though Robin ripped a new one into him for being homophobic. So instead of the romantic scene, they’re in the little diner with checkered floors and terrible teal blue walls with pink accents. There’s sad looking daisies on the tables with old worn broken menus, and music neither of them actually like. Some old country song that Steve can’t even remember the name.

Their waiter is some senior from high school that looks bored. Repeating their orders back to them before walking off and Steve finally takes a chance to reach over at Eddie’s hands, “Eds, I got something for you”

Eddie brightens up at that, his smile is addicting and Steve smiles just to match him even if his nerves are making him squirm. Letting go of one of Eddie’s hands, he goes to pull out the tiny little black box that’s been making his pockets burn all day.

“What is it, Stevie?” Eddie’s voice goes up a notch and before he knows it, starts to ramble. “Is today a special day? I know it’s not my birthday and it’s not yours either, there’s no anniversary that I can think of. You also don’t celebrate many holidays lately, so it can’t be that. Or am I forgetting something? Is it an anniversary? Should I be getting you something-“

Usually he loves hearing Eddie ramble but his voice is getting higher and it’s starting to crack, so he shoves the box back into his pocket and grabs Eddie’s hands again in a tight grip. “Eds, baby, calm down! It’s okay”

Before either of them can say anything more their food is there and they let go of each other to eat. In between bites, he tries again, “I was thinking, maybe in the future, if we uh- we could go and get my last name to be…”

He gets cut off by waiters loudly and annoyingly singing ‘happy birthday’ to the table next to them and he wants to kick himself for his wording already. It’s turning out to be a disaster, and he doesn’t exactly know how to come back from it. So, they continue to eat their food quietly with some small talk instead. Once the badly singing waiters leave and their food is mostly gone, he tries again.

“Eddie, I have something to ask you” his nerves are showing in his voice, even to his own ears. Hopefully he looks aren’t reflecting how nervous he is, but he can’t see himself anywhere and he knows looking away would not be good. Without messing with the box in his pocket, “Would you want to share a last name?”

Internally cringing at his words, he hopes that Eddie understands. Looking at him, with the silence going that feels like the world has stopped, it seems like maybe that it…doesn’t. He knows it comes out wrong and that Eddie doesn’t get it. Because his face is full of confusion, normally he loves it. Normally Eddie being confused is always cute and Steve loves it, especially when he gets to explain something to Eddie.

But right now? He hates it.

“Like, you uhh” Eddie speechless is a wonder usually. Steve hates it right now, much like how much he hates his own wording. “Wouldn’t it be weird if Wayne adopted you? Since we’re dating?”

He’s speechless himself, of all the options Eddie picks that one? He shakes his head and his hand goes for the box in his pocket, “no, no. That’s- just, no. Eddie, I’d like to-“

“Stevie, are you okay?” The question comes out of left field and it makes him wonder why, until he feels a wetness to his cheeks and, damnit. He’s tearing up from all his nerves. He didn’t even notice, sighing he just nods. “Are- are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Let’s just go home, yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t quite agree but also doesn’t say anything else. Just moves next to him and loops his arm with Steve’s. Then they’re off to the car and all Steve needs now is a moment alone to figure out how he went so wrong when he had a plan.

Part 2

This was originally suppose to be the full fic but uhh tumblr kept deleting my last thing i'd type up. So now I'm splitting it into two parts. Anyway, I completely blame @i-less-than-three-you and this post for this. So thanks @undreaming-fanfiction for this idea bug I seriously couldn’t stop thinking about it, when I should be writing more of part 6 for my angst fic.

[hitlikehammers]

i realize that this is a world where anything is possible and—

a Pro-Football/Rockstar Super Bowl Steddie AU for @thefreakandthehair

I don’t as a rule write sports AUs, but I do, as a rule, bend my own rules when someone gives me prompts for a fic I’m writing as a gift.

So: when @thefreakandthehair prompted me with ‘Starry Night’ but said she would have liked also something about football? I tried to fulfill the request (try being the operative term)

Lex, I hope your birthday was as brilliant as you deserve, and that this little fic in celebration of you brightens your day  

title from this poem, aptly titled and about, what else, but football; divider credit here

(Also sincerest thanks to the ever-lovely @pearynice for listening to me babble about this and having a look at the final product and being amazing all around, and @hbyrde36 for blindly hlepng pick which ending was ultimately posted—you guys are the best ✨)

✨also on ao3

“I am about ninety-nine-point-nine…” Eddie chews on his bottom lip, coils a stray curl around his index finger and resists dragging it across his mouth: “eight, point-nine-eight percent sure I’m not supposed to be here.”

He’s entirely sure he’s not supposed to be here. Not now.

“What are they going to do?” Steve scoffs at him, leading him by hand through the tunnels. “Kick us out? Ban us?”

He snorts, and Eddie stops trying to not-hide behind his hair a little because: not supposed to fucking be here.

“You’re gonna get us arrested or something.”

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Steve cackles a little and maybe Eddie’s anxious, but he’ll never not melt at that sound, music brighter, holy like he could never touch, let alone play: “Eddie Munson, poster child for sticking it to the goddamn man,” Steve tuts, clicks his tongue and shakes his head: “afraid of stadium security.”

“Pretty sure they’ve got better people on payroll for this,” Eddie points out under his breath but never once fights Steve’s hold, his lead: he’d put his whole fucking life in this man’s hands, no question. It’s just that…

“Relax, babe,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand in his own; “no one will know.”

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t doubt Steve, never would, but, like—this is a big fucking deal.

“If Chrissy finds out we fucked something up—“ because that’s why Eddie’s here, obviously, at least in this specific capacity; not like Corroded fucking Coffin, no matter how many albums they’ve sold, would ever land a gig like this for themselves. Nope: Chrissy’s been a friend for eons, and when her career skyrocketed they were all ecstatic for her, but she never changed from being a hometown girl with a sweet heart, never let the fame or the money or the statues dull that down in her, so she was still the cheerleader who clapped for Eddie in middle school, and so of course she invited Eddie’s band to feature on a track—and of course they said yes.

So when she signed on for the halftime show and knew they’d be nearby recording? She’d asked them to join her on stage as special guests for a couple songs.

And no matter what else proved an incentive: Eddie and the guys would have said yes in a heartbeat. It’s the fucking halftime show, but more than that? It’s Chrissy Cunningham, and she smiled and cheered when the Hawkins auditorium sat in silent judgment in the face of their…everything.

“A,” Steve’s pulling him along just a little further, still; Eddie can tell they’re almost to the field, can see literal light at the end of the tunnel; “we will not fuck anything up.”

“I’m clumsy,” Eddie offers a token protest; it’s not untrue, but he’s also kinda half-assing the fight of it; “I might—”

“B,” Steve’s cut him off; “Chrissy loves me,” then he points to Eddie; “Chrissy loves you,” and Eddie tucks his chin a little more to press the bunch of his hair tighter against the seam of his lips; “Chrissy also loves us,” Steve gestures between the two of them, then, chest-to-chest and back; “as in, us together.”

And yeah, okay: Steve had been Chrissy’s friend properly before Eddie, used to help her get the height on her ponytail before games, caused a million rumors but they were never an item—so. Yeah. Chrissy loves them. As themselves, and as SteveandEddie.

“Just here,” Steve eases them to a halt and steadies Eddie by the biceps when he stumbles for the stop anyway because: clumsy, if he’s not on stage. Steve knows this, they’ve been at this too long for him not to, but.

He anticipates it so perfectly, and it still kinda skips in Eddie’s pulse like a giddy schoolgirl for the fact of it. They they’ve got this.

“Close your eyes,” Steve instructs as he smooths his hands past Eddie’s elbows, down to circle his wrists.

Eddie feels his eyes get big as he tries to frown, but gapes instead.

“I’ll run into—”

“I will not let you run into anything, love,” Steve pulls him in for a quick peck on the lips, and speaks into the contact sweet and warm:

“I’ve got you.”

Yeah. Yeah he fucking does.

Giddy-schoolgirl-under-his-ribs again, Jesus.

Eddie slips his eyes closed and barely even has to wait for Steve to grasp his hands tighter.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs deep and rumbly and hot under Eddie’s skin as he walks him at a careful pace further, further, turns a little, further again then slows: “now,” he brings Eddie’s hands together and kisses his knuckles, and Eddie’s not just warm under the skin, now he’s warm everywhere.

“Now, follow me down, we’re just going to sit,” and Steve presses one hand to the small of Eddie’s back and leads him, and Eddie goes because there is nowhere he wouldn’t, nowhere he won’t go with Steve beside him.

It’s just not possible; he’s not built to be anywhere else.

“And now lie back,” Steve eases him gentle even as he says it, and Eddie lets him, enjoys the feeling of being handled like this, precious and delicate almost, in this space that’s anything but save that it’s them, and what they are is stronger than spun silk, tested further than diamonds but they’re also tender, they’re also blood and bone and tangled together soft and vulnerable, if only just to shore each other up and tie together tighter.

“There you go,” Steve says as Eddie feels the whole of his body, the length of his back make full contact with the ground; “and tip your head,” he puts his open palm under Eddie’s chin like he needs to guide, but Eddie figures it’s just to touch: he doesn’t complain, because hell if he minds. As if he could ever.

“Now open your eyes.”

Eddie lets himself bask in the blind touch of Steve for just one more breath before he blinks and looks and—

“Oh,” Eddie barely breathes, and he can feel Steve beaming at him, so wide and shining out in the dark like the meteors that are streaking across endless stretch of sky above them, leaving trails behind to mark their paths, to leave proof of their being before they burn on descent and oh, oh.

“Right?” Steve breathes close to Eddie’s ear, strokes Eddie’s pulsepoint where he still holds at the wrist, kisses Eddie’s jaw as Eddie gapes up because it doesn’t matter how many times he sees the show, it’s awe inspiring.

So much like the man next to him, pressed tight against him so Eddie can feel him breathe: never once has Eddie stopped being filled up with wonder for him, never once will Eddie ever do anything but marvel that he’s here, that he exists, that Eddie can look at him and know in his bones that it’s true, unshakable when he stares and thinks: mine.

“Stevie,” Eddie spins his hand so it can lace with Steve’s, fingers interlocked as he turns into the press of his mouth to catch his lips for real, to taste: “sweetheart,” he mouths, tongues into Steve’s kiss: “it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful goes unsaid because they say it clear with touch; what we have is so much more than beautiful is the understood fucking you. Given like the spin of a planet, or the expanse of the universe.

“I know how much you like the stars,” Steve shapes the words more than speaks them, never moving back to pull apart their lips, not all the way; “and when I saw there was a shower, and we’d have a shot to see it, I,” and Steve presses a quick kiss into Eddie then: I couldn’t not, and Eddie thinks lucky isn’t a word that means anything at all, in the face of this.

He watches with Steve pressed against him, slid down to fit with his head on Eddie’s shoulder for a long stretch of seconds before the question comes to mind and he kisses Steve temple, reverent, but still in askance:

“The lights?”

Because it’s too dark. There are still a few bits of the stage setup that need to be moved before the kickoff, so he has to figure there’d be some lights, but the space surrounding them is a near-perfect void.

“So maybe someone knows we’re here,” Steve answers, a little wry. “I maybe bribed Lenny in Operations,” and of all the people working in this mass-ass complex, for this insane fucking event, Eddie actually knows who that is; let him bum a smoke the first time they came to rehearse. “We have about half an hour.”

Jesus. Jesus.

“God, I love you,” Eddie half-exhales, half-wonders at this, this, this specimen of a human before him, pressed against him close and he pulls Steve in, brings their still-joined hands to his chest and stretches down to kiss the tips of Steve’s fingers before just pressing hands there, making sure Steve feels:

“Every time I think you’ve stretched this heart as far as it’ll go,” Eddie whispers, because it’s sacred; this feeling, this thing they make together as one: “every time, you find room to fill it up all over again,” Eddie feels that stretched-heart of his pound a little beneath their hands, and fucking good, too, because then Steve feels it at the exact same time, and that’s what matters, what counts: that Steve knows the depth of this in Eddie’s chest, always; that he understands because:

“You’re magic.”

And Eddie means that. Eddie means that with all his pounding heart.

“You’re playing the Super Bowl tomorrow,” Steve says it like an explanation; like it’s enough of a reason. Like he would have done all of this anyway, just because.

“I am playing as a guest at the halftime,” Eddie knows that’s correct, he knows, but it’s still instinct to look at Steve like he’s making sure he gets the terms for all the different sports games right and it’s worth the knee-jerk instinct surviving all these years just for the grin and the nod he gets, so encouraging and indulgent and sweet; “show.”

“You are playing the Super Bowl, tomorrow.”

Because that’s the other thing, the thing that was entirely not-music-related that existed as the whole fucking incentive for Corroded Coffin to be in town for studio space in the first place: Steve, his Stevie, his partner and lover, beloved and adored, his Steve Harrington is the goddamn starting linebacker in the motherfucking Super Bowl.

Like Eddie would miss that for his fucking life.

Which: hold on.

“Don’t you have curfew? Coach’s orders?” Eddie turns a quirked brow to him and Steve just grins and, god: taps Eddie’s nose.

Gawwwwwd.

“I’m sneaky, baby,” Steve whispers and fuck, the stars above them are exquisite but they’ve got, like, nothing on the way Steve’s eyes shine. “Stealthy like a ninja.”

Eddie wants to laugh, snicker maybe a little under his breath but he…he can’t.

He can’t because he’s, his whole body feels weightless and tingly and untethered from gravity and matter and any atmosphere that isn’t Steve and Steve alone, like just be next to this man, the love of his life, is akin to and far beyond swimming alongside the shooting stars overhead: he can only relish, can only marvel.

He gets this. He gets to have this.

Unfathomable. And yet.

“You did all this for me,” Eddie exhales, still wondering at this. At Steve: the fact of him. The whole of him. This is the night before the biggest game of Steve’s career, likely the biggest day of Steve’s life and yet, here he is. Breaking rules, risking fuck knows what, just for Eddie. It’s, it’s…

“That can’t be a surprise by now,” Steve breathes back, nuzzles their noses a little and Eddie keens, because fuck.

“It’s not just,” Eddie tries to collect his thoughts, his point; “this is big, Stevie,” he says, like that encompasses it, encompasses the day they’re on the brink of, and the fact that they’re here right now, just before that day:

“This is big.”

“All the more reason,” Steve nips at Eddie’s lip then leans back, meets Eddie’s gaze square on before he breathes out slow, and lies back down, turns Eddie’s body to him, both of them on their sides and then he brings their hands between them, close enough that they hit both their chests when they breathe in: “because,” and he takes one more breath, and Eddie doesn’t know why it feels like Steve’s steeling himself, or building up to a thing he feels he has to steel himself for, because there’s nothing he could say or do that’ll sway Eddie from his side, there’s nothing, but then—Steve doesn’t feel stiff, or scared, or nervous against him, his hand in Eddie’s hand.

It just feels big, this moment, whatever it already holds or is gearing up to hold as more; it feels momentous, equally so, either way.

“Win or lose, tomorrow, no matter how big this is,” Steve finally speaks words into the tiny space between them, his grip firm and his eyes unwavering on Eddie the whole time. “I won the only thing I really wanted in life,” and his smile, dear god.

There are no stars, falling or burning, dying in a supernova or sprawling newly born: not a single goddamn one could compare.

“And he’s not really a prize, so it’s not really winning,” Steve’s watching him with so much love, so much love; “he’s a gift, he’s my heart,” and Steve mirrors Eddie this time, draws Eddie in to press against his chest, to feel the fluttering there; “and he gave me his to keep safe, and that was a whole other gift on top of everything,” and Steve laughs a little, his own overwhelming awe, and Eddie almost doesn’t know what to do, save grip Steve so fucking tight; save to memorize the cadence of his pulse like a song.

“So no matter what you call it,” Steve draws a deep breath and lets it shudder a little when he blows it back out; “when I wake up in the morning and I know he’s mine, and I’m his,” and Eddie lifts the hand not held to Steve’s heart to cup Steve’s cheek and just touch, just drink him in:

“I feel like the biggest winner in the world,” Steve says it, so honest, so heartfelt: so much.

“You’re a fucking sap,” Eddie doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears clog the words when they tumble from his lips but then he’s leaning, then he’s kissing Steve like the world’s ending only to begin again and it’s perfect, it’s heavenly like the fires burning miles upon miles above their heads, cosmic and immense but then Steve’s pulling back, but his open palms are pressed to Eddie’s chest to manage it and it’s contact, it’s grounding: it, too, is perfect.

“Oh, really,” Steve’s lips curl, even as they’re swollen at the pout and wet-red still; “I’m a fucking sap?” but he doesn’t even look irritated, he looks entertained, no: he looks delighted and what—

“Let me one-up your standards then, Munson,” and Steve’s leaning in, catching Eddie’s lips one more time before he raises up on his knees, tips back on his calves and lifts from those glorious fucking thighs of his and if Steve’s ignoring curfew entirely Eddie thinks he’s got a good chance of asking for those thighs to be wrapped around him at some point in the next twelve hours before he gets to spend a good stretch of hours sharing the clothed version in those tight fucking pants with the whole goddamn country, sure, but at Jumbotron-size he can’t wholeheartedly complain and—

“Edward Elliot Munson.”

Wait. That’s him. He’s Edward Eli—

Why is he being full-named here, now?

He starts to sit up too, brings his eyes up from Steve’s glorious legs where they stretch even under his track pants, to meet his eyes and—

They shine. They shine.

They put the stars and the space matter and the glow of angels on high if they’re there at all: they put them all to fucking shame.

Steve puts them to shame.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes deep and Eddie catches the gleam of something in an obvious shape in his hands, but it’s only in his periphery: he cannot, he will never look away; he might be trembling already.

He’s definitely trembling already.

“Will you,” and Steve pauses, plays with Eddie’s bare ring finger, the only one empty just now and Eddie honestly never thought on it too hard but in this moment he knows, he knows in the marrow of him that he was waiting, that he was wanting and he was keeping it safe for just one thing, just one thing:

“Will you let me fill your heart up to stretching,” Steve blinks, and a tear falls; just one, glistening and glorious for the avalanche that’s spilling from Eddie; “and then will you let me fill it up even more, again and again and again, Eddie, will you let me do that for the rest of our lives?”

As if that’s a fucking question.

Eddie doesn’t even have to process the necessity of putting his lips on Steve, of kissing him breathless and then boneless and then weightless, so fucking close and so fucking fierce and giving everything and anything and all that he is and allthat they are; he doesn’t have to process it as a choice before they’re consuming, devouring each other relentless, unceasing, and Eddie will pull back and speak the ‘yes’ that’s already obvious, he will shake a little as Steve puts the ring on the naked finger waiting to be adorned, the last lone space waiting to be claimed; Eddie will wear it proudly on the stage when millions watch him play tomorrow, and there won’t be a single second he’s not smiling like a loon through the whole goddamn day, and it’ll have so very little to do with playing the biggest show of his life, and that’s wild, that’s insane: that is the only real thing in the whole fucking world and—yeah.

Yeah: the biggest prize of living at all is the one they’re holding tight between them, the one they’re passing back and forth, soul to soul between their lips.

[atimeofyourlife]

I love you though you hurt me so (I'm gonna pack my things and go)

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: proposal | rated: t | wc: 921 | tags: failed proposal, break up, angst, hurt/no comfort Steve had never wanted anything to do with the public eye, but Eddie kept pushing him further and further. The proposal was the breaking point. title from tainted love by soft cell

The proposal was the breaking point. After years together, it was the final nail in the coffin, the end of the relationship.

Steve had always been uncomfortable with the thought of having any of his life displayed for the public to see. He just wanted a calm life working as a teacher, or about as calm as working with kids could be. It was part of the reason that made him unsure of the relationship when Eddie first started talking about trying to break into the music scene, to try to make it big. He didn't want to be hounded because of who he interacted with, he didn't want his every move to be plastered all over every gossip magazine. Eddie convinced him to stay together by promising that he would be kept out of the public eye, out of public knowledge. That he would be protected in every way.

But that didn't last. As the band got bigger and bigger, Eddie started pushing for Steve to do more and more alongside him. To be at more gigs, to attend events and red carpets. He didn't keep the promise of total anonymity, instead gushing to interviewers about Steve. Talking about how they met, Steve being a teacher, Steve's hobbies and past. All things he wanted to keep private. He would get kids and their parents asking him questions about the band, trying to use him for access to the band, for tickets, merch, meet and greets. It made him feel like his life was spinning out of control, all because Eddie couldn't keep Steve private.

The proposal was Steve's worst nightmare. He'd brought up to Eddie multiple times that he wanted to be less in the public eye, he wanted his privacy back. Eddie would agree, and it would get better for a while, but then it would slowly return to the same thing. And they hadn't even talked about the possibility of marriage, Steve not feeling ready for it, knowing that it would be a big affair. That there would be photographers at every point, all details being recorded for the world to see, and the guest list would be far out of his control.  The closest they'd gotten to talking about it was Steve telling Eddie that he hated the idea of a public proposal, wanting something small and private and personal instead.

Eddie went overboard. It was one of the few times Steve was attending a gig, watching from the side of the stage. It was going fairly normally, playing the set list, pausing at times to chat with the crowd. But then Eddie went off script, and the band all seemed in on it.

"Now, I'm going to do something a bit out of the ordinary. I've spoken so many times about the love of my life, my wonderful Stevie. He's here tonight, and I want him to join us on stage for a moment."

Steve froze, not sure how to avoid this. It was something he'd never agreed to, not that Eddie had paid attention to anything Steve didn't agree to. Before he could react, the other members of the band had grabbed him and dragged him on stage. He felt massively overwhelmed by the bright lights and the amount of people staring at him.

"Steve, you are the most important person in my life, I have never met anyone who gets me the way you do. I'm so in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Steven Harrington, will you marry me?" Eddie got down on one knee, and pulled out an extravagant ring.

Steve was stunned, unable to take anything in. He was vaguely aware of a microphone being shoved in his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling totally speechless. This was the worst possible way Eddie could have done this, absolutely against everything he could have wanted.

"No." Steve managed to get out, his voice projected through the speakers. There was a moment of silence, able to hear a pin drop. Then everyone started murmuring. Eddie looked confused, as did the rest of the band.

"Stevie-" Eddie whispered, away from the mic.

"Eddie, I can't. This isn't what I want. This isn't me." Steve replied quietly, before fleeing the stage. Everything felt mixed up, and he knew it was over.

He did hang around, waiting for Eddie and the band to get off stage. Wanting to clear everything up. To deal with it in private. Most of the band just filed away when they saw him, leaving him and Eddie alone.

"What the hell was that about?" Eddie burst out.

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you." Steve shot back. "You know I want to keep things private. I keep trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. But then you go and do that."

"Well excuse me for wanting to share how much I love you with the world."

"Do you really love me? Because if you did you wouldn't keep forcing me into positions I don't want to be in. You would have respected my wish of being anonymous. But you didn't. You never have." Steve replied, trying to fight back the emotion.

"Sorry for wanting to show off my love."

"It's not enough, Eddie. I. It's over. I'll be out of the apartment by the time you're done with this tour." Steve said, turning and walking away, heading to the parking lot for the cab he'd called.

[bifuriouswaterbender]

The rumors have circulated about celebrity chefs Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington for years. Sometimes when a secret hasn't been hidden on purpose, deciding when to reveal it becomes a delicate decision. Steve wanted that announcement to mean something. Eddie was determined to follow through.

To wake up by your side is all I wanna do

For: @lihhelsing

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

Wordcount: 3,184

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tags: Modern AU, Celebrity Chef AU, Marriage Proposal

This fic was written for the @steddiesummerexchange

Read it on AO3 here!

[discocandles]

Anytime I think about Steve, Eddie, Chrissy or Robin as famous musicians, I have to hold myself back from adding a shit ton of Lady Gaga references.

Like in the 2010s Lady Gaga appeared for an mtv music award show as this rugged, unkept greaser type character she made up named jo calderone. He's kinda known as "Lady Gaga's boyfriend that is also lady Gaga in drag". Steve Harrington, teen popstar trying to get away from his overbearing label would show up to the red carpet in drag as Amanda Miller, the girlfriend his label chose for him. She is dressed how they have their other popstar darling, Chrissy Cunningham dress. Amanda Miller later shows up in one of his music videos after he leaves the label. Both appearances of Amanda Miller cause mass bi panic online.

Speaking of fellow teen popstar Chrissy Cunningham, she starts openly thanking God and the Gays for the successes in her career. The label hates it, but they deal or else she's not gonna thank God either, causing problems with her religious fanbase(the impact of only letting her make ultra clean love songs for years). Also the idea of Chrissy disrespecting the interviewers who disrespect her is so healing. Think about it. Like yeah she ate that guy's script, and she'd do it again if he asks about her diet.

For rockstar eddie? So in Lady Gaga's song government hooker there's a spoken bit(not the jfk line the "back up and turn around" one). Those lines are spoken by Gaga's bodyguard Pete, who has a very thick Dutch accent after Lady gaga suddenly brought the idea that he be the "pervy robot voice" up during production.

Like Eddie would so do this, as I think creating songs gives him a lot of almost maniacal energy. Also for this one, the bodyguard is Italian Steve, but he's Jeff's bodyguard who Eddie's been constantly flirting with. That's perfectly fine by Eddie's actual bodyguard, who needs "a damn second to fucking breathe, you hyperactive bastard".

Indie rock vocalist Robin Buckley would have an album where she sings in like four different languages outside of English like lady Gaga did in born this way. And also sing in other languages fairly often. It's most often in French(like lady Gaga does), but every time Robin starts singing in a language that isn't English, the fans will scramble to figure out what tongue she's singing/speaking in now and what is she saying? What does google translate say she's saying?

There's paparazzi photos of vocalist Robin standing next to Jeff from Corroded Coffin but she's chatting in Italian with... his body guard? Apparently they met as teenagers on a trip abroad and became best friends then pen pals after. But we guess it evens out as robin's makeup artist/one woman glam team was best friends with Eddie in high school? And she won the prom queen tiara that CC wears in their iconic album cover. I dunno, just something that's been haunting my brain.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

I hate the fact that nothing is stopping me from writing a crossbred between the Proposal and Pretty Woman. Like god the power that story has is unstoppable.

Just Steve being forced to work at his dad's publishing company, where everyone there can't stand him because he's a nepo baby. He obviously only got the job because he was the huge guy's kid. So he earns a lot of shit, but he dishes it as well. But he finds someone who doesn't know who he is. He ends up paying the said person to stay and be his business partner for a week without ever giving Eddie any hint of who he is. But then when the week is up the two split and Eddie has enough money to do whatever he needed to.

Flash forward a few more years and Eddie gets hired at the same publishing company Steve works at and he falls into the same mindset that everyone else does and he genuinely can't stand the guy. ( a part of him is bitter that the other didn't stay in contact with him like he promised) So when he becomes Steves assistant he's shocked, but what shocks him more is that Steve lies to the board saying that they are getting married. (apparently, Steve isn't a natural citizen so Italian Steve?? And he will be deported and one way to stay is to get married) So Eddie ends up taking him home with him, which is the exact place Steve's money from years before was bought. It's a farm and Wayne and a bunch of others all believe they are actually in love.

Like its fake dating through and through and they discover that they don't have to really "date" Because they know enough about each other and end up getting married to commit to the bit and don't confess their love for each other until they are on their honeymoon.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

The Proposal - Part 6

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Part 6 of 7. 5571 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Eventual sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack.

Authors Note: BEFORE READING PART SIX! Please be advised that MOST of the series warnings were written with this chapter in mind. Some of the content herein may potentially be triggering for some readers, and I ask that you proceed with caution and read at your own risk. That being said, this is the final part in this series besides our epilogue. I hope it's everything you wanted it to be.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur - not that it’s difficult. Eddie knows how to follow orders by this point - stand where told, smile even if he doesn’t feel like it…And Johnathan is actually incredibly helpful. With useful tips that make this whole thing…breezy.

The only problem is Steve.

Steve, who had turned on the charm and is determined to kill Eddie with it. Flirting through the whole process - whispering in Eddie’s ear and genuinely making him laugh right when the camera clicks…At one point Steve even queues up Johnathan to snap an idea he’s come up with on his own - of him pulling Eddie’s hand up to his lips and leaving a gentleman’s kiss on his knuckles while Eddie just fucking melts.

He’s so fucked.

Utterly and completely fucked - even as they flit from location to location, switching outfits, and subtly adjusting Eddie’s hair as they go. 

And Steve is so fucking clever too, because with those things combined these photos could have been taken at any point. Not necessarily in a day.

It’s padding for their case - a nice little breadcrumb trail of evidence of a - if the Central Park carriage ride is to be believed - very romantic relationship.

Leaving Eddie just, wishing for the reality of it, despite himself.

They finish out the photo shoot at Steve’s once again, taking photos on Steve’s balcony under the setting sun and some twinkle lights. Once they’ve lost said light, officially, Johnathan dismisses himself. He tells them they’ve done great, that he’s off to edit, and he’ll send the finalized images to Steve by the beginning of next week. 

Eddie fidgets nervously as Steve sees the other man out, unsure what comes next.

Not expecting, of all things, the exaggerated groan Steve lets out when he returns to him, or his. “I’m sorry.” 

Eddie is taken aback, asking, “What are you apologizing for?”

“That was a lot. I know.” He explains. Eddie is baffled. Steve has never cared how much he adds to Eddie’s plate, until lately. 

Eddie isn’t sure what to make of it. He laughs it off. “Yeah, well. I’ve been thoroughly compensated for my time, so don’t worry about it.”

Steve almost frowns - like the reminder of their work relationship had bummed him out for all of two seconds before his face smoothed over. “Of course. Still. Let me offer you a small bonus - dinner. Anything you want.” 

Eddie is pleased at the offer, the thoughtfulness of it but also, how dinner sounds, just, amazing right now. 

So, Steve orders them dinner. Eddie checks in with him, and then at insistence from Steve that he wear something more comfortable than the formal wear they had posed in lastly, he puts on his sweatpants and a band shirt, getting cozy on the couch. 

Steve joins him, and Eddie is tense for all of two seconds until he clicks the tv on, asking Eddie what they should watch.

They spend the rest of the time settling on something, Steve eventually getting the door when the delivery arrives. As he retrieves their order, Eddie stands up, ready to head to the formal dining room, when Steve waves him off.

“Stay. I don’t have a tv out there.” He reasons.

Eddie is baffled. “Steve.” He protests, thinking of crumbs and grease and sauce, “I’m a messy eater.”

Steve only rolls his eyes. “I have maids. Plural. Now sit.” 

Eddie knew that. He sits. It’s so weird.

Weirder still to watch Steve pop open the box of pizza on that same expensive coffee table, moaning in a way that will haunt Eddie’s dreams at the way the cheese pulls when he takes it from the box and puts it on a plate, offering Eddie the first slice.

They eat, the TV plays, and Eddie decides to analyze it all at a later time, even relaxes a bit.

“I was thinking…about what you said about giving me a key?” Steve tells him after a while, his eyes locked on the food below him.

Eddie swallows his bite before asking. “Yeah?”

Steve fidgets. “I…What I mean is, I took it to mean that you plan to keep your apartment?”

Oh. “I…I wasn’t thinking.” Eddie explains.

“We should discuss it.” Steve looks down. “I assumed you would live here…I’m hoping you’ll be amenable to it. I uh, I have a guest room that should suffice…But then there’s the matter of your apartment. If you were looking to get it back after the divorce, I would be willing to rent it out under a surname, shell corporation, something - I don’t know legal shit but like - whatever you need. I’d pay to hold it until you can take it back, if that’s something you wanted.”

Eddie is floored. “I’m not that attached to it, honestly. I uh…what I mean is, I can look for a new place. After. I’d be okay with that. I know you don’t believe in my music. But I do…So, if there’s shows to be played, records flying off the shelves…hopefully…I’ll have some money come in, and I can get something else-”

“You’ll have that option, Eddie. But even if you didn’t, I wouldn’t put you out on the street. We’ll work something out.” He clears his throat, Eddie can’t help but agree.

“Okay. So…cool. So…we’ll live here.” He says. In this expensive, massive, apartment, with a view. Geez. 

Steve nods. “…Do you know when you want to formally move in?”

He’s baffled. “I figured you’d want to run out the clock, I know you like your space.”

Steve fidgets. “I actually don’t mind. Uh not just the living together part but…any of this. You’re really easy to be around.” 

Eddie clears his throat, wipes his crumbs from his shirt and cringes. Changing the subject. 

“Oh!” He perks up just a bit. “So, if that’s settled, we should discuss when my last day working for you will be.” He suggests.

Steve groans, all but sagging into the couch like he’s suddenly overcome with melancholy. Insists, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Eddie, thinking it’s for the wrong reasons, keeps his tone gentle. “Stevie, we discussed this. You can have me as an assistant, or you can have me as a husband, but you can’t have both.” 

Steve just huffs. “Do you know how hard it was to find someone competent?” 

“I will vet the next guy myself, and personally call all of his references.” He’s chuckling, “You won’t be left hanging. I’ll make sure he knows how you like things.”

“It’s more than that.” Steve sighs. “You were the best. You anticipated my needs.” 

Eddie blinks - surprised. Steve chews his lower lip. If he’s successfully disarmed by this, then it might be advantageous for Steve to offer his whole truth. A necessity, if he wants to keep Eddie. And god, he wants to keep him. Never wants to let him go.

Confesses, “Solo tu mi capisci.” Wistfully, even if Eddie can’t understand him fully. “It’s why I lied about your demo…I…I knew if I produced it, that I would lose you as an assistant. That was a dick move. And I’m sorry.”

Eddie doesn’t react how he expects him to. He sounds exasperated. “Dude.” He gasps. “You say sorry for everything now, do you realize that? Sorry for this and sorry for that just…stop. It’s not needed. Okay? I get it. I’ve always gotten it. I wouldn’t have kept working for you if I thought you were fully evil.”

Steve doesn’t mean to, but he hopes. It’s as close a compliment as he could deal with, ironically enough. “You mean that?”

Eddie laughs. “Of course. So…are we good? Nod if we’re good.”

Steve nods. Eddie says, “Awesome.”

Steve chooses to press his luck even further. “Would you…maybe want to stay? Feel free to say no but, the guest room is made up and I…I thought too that uh, we could get to know each other more?”

Eddie makes a face. “I don’t know, I don’t think I have anything to wear.” His tone is deadly serious.

The two of them share a look, before bursting into giggles.

“Oh wow. He really did a great job, didn’t he?” Eddie murmurs. 

He’s at Steve’s apartment, as he had been every night since the first time Steve had asked him to stay. 

His things had followed him here - little by little, slowly taking over the guest room as he transitioned from living in his own apartment to living here full time.

It wasn’t as difficult of an adjustment as he might have expected…Steve had been downright accommodating and the apartment was so nice. 

He’d known that already of course, but on a recent work night he’d confirmed it.

Steve had dismissed him early - saying for a room full of their coworkers to hear that he would be home to him in an hour or two, and Eddie had used that time to go into rooms he’d never been in, telling himself that it was fine.

And what the whole place lacked in personality, it made up for in a wine fridge, a million windows, and a really great bathtub.

Fast forward to now, Eddie is peering over Steve’s shoulder while he sits with his laptop displayed in front of them, both of them looking over the edited images that Johnathan had sent Steve.

“He really did.” Steve agreed. Pointing to his favorite. A soft yellow sweater and floral shirt image, with his hair just so, Eddie’s tattoos prominent.

“I like that one I think, for the announcement? What do you think?” He smiles at Eddie. He’s been doing it more and more lately.

Eddie grins back. “A fine choice.”

Steve goes to say something else - but before he can, the pair of them are interrupted by a knock on the door, the two men sharing a look between each other.

“Did you…order something?” Eddie asks. But Steve looks equally confused.

“No.” He stands, crossing the room to answer the door. Eddie cranes his head to see who it is - wondering if he had his days mixed up, and Robin was supposed to be meeting them - but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

When Steve answers the door, there’s a middle aged man there in a light colored suit, a scowl on his face that Eddie would have known anywhere, because he had seen it, indirectly, every day. Would have known it even if Steve didn’t choke out, “Dad?”

“Steve.” His father - Richard Harrington - stands stoically, ominously inclining his head. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” 

He looks over at Eddie then, announcing louder because he appeared to be part of this now too, “I want to talk to the both of you.” 

Steve shakes his head, voice thready and his face pale, “Listen, whatever this is, whatever you came here for-”

His father pushes past Steve and into the apartment, speaking over him. “Your mom will never hear about any of this,” He says, looking over the whole place in disdain. 

Picking imaginary lint up off the back of the couch, Richard explains. “Jim Hopper called me. He told me all about your sham wedding.” He scoffs, his face all twisted up in rage. 

“You flew across the Atlantic for this?” Steve glares at him. 

Richard just rolls his eyes, and Eddie is shaken at how eerily similar the sight is. Only, unlike Steve - pretty, bitchy, Steve, this scorn was something ugly. “We live in Manhattan now, Steven.” He chides him.

Steve throws his hands up in exasperation. “Well you never sent a Christmas card!”

His father ignores that. “Steve…When it comes out that this is a fake relationship, and it will, you will not be able to enter back into this country.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve says hysterically. “I love Eddie.” And Eddie’s heart still swoops to hear it, even though he knows it’s not true. 

“You didn’t convince the immigration officer, and you won’t convince me. It’s all just too convenient, Steve. Ignoring the unnaturalness of it all, you think I don’t know a means to an end when I see one?”

“You’re wrong. And you need to leave.” He grits out.

Richard sighs. “Just let me help you, son. There’s no need to risk your whole future on this, on some nobody. Did you even verify his background? He comes from thieves and scum in some no-name town in Indiana. His most recent legal residence is in a trailer park, for fucks sake! He’s nothing.” 

Eddie tries not to show how affected he is by that, but Steve doesn’t.

“Shut up!” He shouts. “You don’t know him. You don’t know me. You don’t - you couldn’t even fathom what it’s like, to love someone based on who they are inside, not what they come from or what they have or even - yes dad - what they have going on downstairs!” He laughs.

“Don’t be crass.” Richard snaps back. Shaking his head in disappointment in a way that Steve was so familiar with. “I know it’s difficult for you, but please, try to see sense. If you allow this nonsense to continue, everything that your mother and I worked to give you, will have been for nothing.”

Steve’s only more enraged at that, stammering before managing to spit out. “You have given me nothing. You left me with nothing. Everything that I have, I earned. Without you.”

His father sneers even more then. “The only reason you knew how to walk in the right way, and dress the right way, and talk in the right way - is because of us. You’re not a self-made man Steve. You are what we made you. You owe your entire existence to us. Something you seem to need reminding of. And yet, as ungrateful as you are, still, I come all the way here on your behalf, to negotiate a deal-”

Eddie isn’t sure what they say from that point. It’s all in Italian. The argument dissolves into words that fly too fast and brutal for Eddie to ever hope to comprehend. 

Finally, Steve gets him out of the door, just as he’d been threatening to do from the moment that Richard had gone after Eddie, all while his father snaps, “Don’t be stupid, Steve.” His forehead scrunching in frustration. 

Steve just scoffs at that, and at his fathers resigned head shake, his accusatory “Inutile.” Steve slams the door in his face.

The sound echoes in the large apartment, Steve’s hands trembling once it’s all finished.

“Jeez.” Eddie mutters, lingering nearby, as Steve’s chest is heaving still. He whirls at Eddie - and then opens his mouth to apologize.

“Don’t you dare.” Eddie glares playfully at Steve.

Steve barks out a startled laugh. “Fuck, I -” he choked on the confession that wants to come out. Strangles it in his throat. “Thanks.” He says finally, lamely. Then he groans, rubs his eyes.

“No, thank you.” Eddie replies with a little chuckle. “Not every fake fiancé would so valiantly defend my honor.” He clutched his hand to his heart. “It was very sexy of you.”

He’s only half joking. But it works to make Steve laugh, still a little breathless.

“I wish you hadn’t seen that, are…are you still sure about this?” Steve asks, his voice rough from all the screaming. Worried too, that his father would have shaken Eddie’s confidence in the plan, Eddie thinks.

He tries to give Steve a reassuring look, to show him that’s not the case. “I’m still sure.”

Steve doesn’t feel much better. “I suppose that’s…good.”

Eddie frowns, hates the way Steve is still shaken and…so hurt. It isn’t fair. Eddie moves closer, promising, “He’s wrong, you know. You don’t owe him anything.”

Steve’s smile is worn, and Eddie closes the rest of the gap. He comes careening into his space, expression softening as their foreheads knock together gently. Both of them leave them. 

“I know you don’t like to hear praise from me that you haven’t asked for - but you’re going to right now.” Eddie explains, quickly tacking on. “So suck it up, Buttercup.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head, not at the declaration, but at the nickname.

Eddie huffs. “Not Buttercup? Damn okay…You’re my angel…dust. Wait, no, that's a drug.”

“Say what you were gonna say or I’m walking away.” Steve jokes. Eddie grins back. 

“Dick, he thinks you owe him. You don’t. Everything you have, from where I’m standing, looks to have been accomplished in spite of that asshat. Not thanks to him. That was certainly not a man who had a hand in bringing up someone as awesome as you - as smart, as funny, as kind-” Eddie declares.

Steve gasps, “Kind?” Like he can’t believe it.

“Oh you’re a bitch, don’t get me wrong.” Eddie laughs, voice admiral. “You’re not nice, per say…but you are kind. You act in favor of those you care about. I’ve seen it. Not just tonight, but in a million small ways before now.” 

Steve gapes at him, swallows past the lump in his throat. “Eddie…” he starts. Aches to kiss him. Can’t. “No one has ever…” he trails off in a laugh, muttering. “Non ti merito.”

Eddie looks at him curiously. Steve has said too much. Unable or unwilling to elaborate without putting the whole thing they have in jeopardy, Steve takes a half a step back, breaking their contact.

Clears his throat. “Do you want to look at some more photos? I suddenly really want to get this announcement out. I might put it in the newspaper.”

“And have it handed out at your dad’s country club.” Eddie agreed.

Steve barks out a laugh - “How did you know he goes to a - you know what, never mind, I answered my own question.”

The night before their scheduled interview is spent much the same as every other night since the photo shoot.

Eddie and Steve, Steve and Eddie, existing in their home.

Steve’s got Eddie practically splayed out in his lap, and is touching up the black polish on Eddie’s nails, a surprisingly steady hand for it.

Eddie is trying not to giggle and kick his feet. And failing, only to settle himself with one stern look from Steve. 

When they’ve almost finished, Steve gets a call on his cell that had sat on the coffee table. “Oh hang on, I gotta take this.” Steve tells him. Eddie nods, thinking it’s an important business call until he hears Steve cheerfully say,  “Hey Wayne.” 

Phone tucked up to his ear, he resumes painting Eddie’s nails while chattering amicably with Eddie’s uncle - in a way that Eddie quickly deduces, is not for the first time.

Eddie squeaks in betrayal. Steve levels another look at him. He keeps still.

The two chat while Steve finishes up, before Steve caps the polish and gives Eddie’s shoulder a little squeeze, releasing him to sit up, the fidgety man peering down at the flutter of his fingers.

A few minutes later, Steve gets off the call, telling him, “Wayne says hi.”

“I should be telling you that, Steve. Since when are you two so close, hmm?” He presses, batting his eyes at the other man. Not really bothered, Steve’s sure.

“Aw, don’t be like that. He called me the other day, just checking in. I told him about the deal we were working on - he wanted to follow up, see how it went.” Steve grinned.

“He’s adopted you.” Eddie clarified. “You’re his son now.” Eddie leaps agilely to his feet then. Meandering over to the kitchen with a hum. “Gosh, he’s going to be devastated by the divorce. Might try and keep you in the settlement once we’ve separated.” He laughs lightly, only joking, thinking nothing of it.

But his comments roll around in Steve’s mind long after they’ve passed. 

Steve tries not to let them get to him - and maybe they shouldn’t affect him to such a degree, but Eddie has held strong to the agreed upon plan all this time.

Even with Steve attempting to ‘woo him’ as Robin put it, Eddie was never affected. He stayed the course.

And Steve…was feeling less and less confident about keeping him.

But more than that.

He’s started to get cold feet about this whole thing. The more he sees of Eddie - the more the other man relaxes around him, the less confident Steve is that he can go through with it.

It comes to a head at the forefront of their interview, with both men sitting in front of Hopper, side by side. 

Steve thinks to the woman that had gotten arrested their first time here - how terrified she had been. Imagining the two of them getting caught and Eddie going through that…

Or the inverse.

Say they succeeded here. Say they passed with flying colors - his visa is approved and Eddie bound to him in all ways but the one that matters.

He imagines the first few days and months after they are married. Eddie would continue to be a good assistant, and a doting husband, until the heat is off and then…he would pull away.

He would leave his job, start his music career, his real life, they would eventually divorce, break Wayne’s heart, and Steve…

Steve would be heartbroken too. In love with a man who is too good for him. 

And too good for what he was asking. Too good to risk when even the best outcome at this point, would have stolen years of his life for Steve’s sake.

Steve who suddenly can’t breathe when he imagines it.

In front of him, oblivious, Hopper is explaining to them what they are agreeing to undergo today - how the process will work, what kind of scrutiny they will be under. Reminding them once again of the consequences should they fail.

He hears none of it. Eddie is at this side, more assured of the plan now, nodding along in the right places. And Steve…

Steve is staring at him. Like it’s his first time seeing his face, or maybe his last. Committing it to memory, because he has an unshakeable feeling that there won’t be a chance to again.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Did you have a question, Steve?” Jim Hopper asks him then, looking pointedly at him.

Steve swallows. “Uh, no…” he supplies. Confusion has started to take over Eddie’s face.

“Your hand is up.” Jim informs him. Oh. So it is. 

“Oh it’s…it's not a question, but I do have something I have to say.” He supplies.

“Steve.” Eddie says sternly.

He can’t bring it in himself to meet the other man’s eye. Lowers his hand, his gaze, and murmurs, “It’s okay, Eddie. You’re off the hook.” 

Then he glances up to Hopper, tells him. “I have a confession to make…about the wedding.” 

Jim raises an eyebrow, and Steve charges forward in the same span, “I forced Eddie to marry me. He…he has all these big dreams. And I knew that if I threatened to destroy them, he would do just about anything…So I blackmailed him, to come here to lie to you. And I thought it would be easy to watch him do it. But it wasn’t and I can’t ruin his life…” he clears his throat.

“It was my fault.” Steve finishes.

“Steve,” Eddie protests, his voice small.

He looks at him now, his eyes glassy. “I’m sorry but, this was a business deal and you held your end…so I will honor my part of it.” He swears. “I will make sure that you get your record deal…you’re a really talented musician, Eddie. You deserve it.”

It sounds like a goodbye. 

Eddie opens and closes his mouth, but Steve has already turned his face to level a stare at Hopper, insisting, “You can’t penalize him. He was coerced…under duress…I-I don’t know legal shit, but, it wasn’t his fault.”

Jim chuckles in a humorless way. “Technically no crime was committed as of yet, so I think we can let his involvement in this slide.”

Steve nods. Eddie is still reeling, floundering for what to say as Steve presses further, “So, what now?”

“Well now that you’re leaving voluntarily, it all becomes very civilized. You have 24 hours to head back to Italy. I suggest you get a move on. I’ll be in touch.” Jim dismisses him.

With understanding Steve stands, and he flees. Hopper lets him leave, kicking his feet up on the desk. Smug. 

Eddie had just had the rug pulled from under him, and he’s smirking, tone mournful. “I always get my man.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Pity.” Looking Eddie over, he suggests. “You’re free to go, kid. Consider yourself lucky.”

Lucky. 

Eddie stands, walking out of the office before breaking into a run. He ends up on the busy sidewalk where not too long ago, Steve had gotten down on his knees to propose. 

He’s nowhere to be found.

Eddie stands out there until it starts to rain. Only the wet drops on his face make him move - shielding himself from the storm as he pulls out his phone, looking to order a car on his app - his app that has fucking Steve’s place listed as his most frequent address now.

He breaks. Dials Wayne immediately instead of ordering his car. Blurts out, “The wedding is off.” As soon as Wayne answers.

Wayne waits a beat. Eddie breathes. Finally, his uncle asks. “…Are you okay?”

So Eddie tells him. All of it.

“So, uh, am I okay? No. Uh…I just feel…” He starts to shake with barely contained laughter. “You know what the problem is? It’s that this man is a gigantic pain in my ass. I mean, first he makes my life hell, for years. Years! Years I worked for this terrorist, and he doesn’t have the decency, the humanity, to say a single nice thing to me. Then he goes and he - he - unleashes every fucking kindness you can imagine, Uncle Wayne. He’s thoughtful, considerate, and fucking charming, okay? Only to take it all away again in one final, screw you Eddie. And I mean we had a deal right?!? We had a deal!” 

He’s fully shouting now, breathing heavily. “We had a deal. And he pulls this…this crap.” Eddie trails off. Out of steam. Wayne clears his throat on the other end. 

Eddie lets out a puff of air. “I’m sorry he just, he…he makes me a little crazy.” He explains.

“Yeah son, I can see that.” Wayne sounds amused. And then, gently, prompts. “So….you’re just gonna let him go?” 

After having caught his breath, because - running - ugh - Eddie bangs insistently on the door to Steve’s apartment. 

There’s a long pause. He bangs again. 

A few moments later the door swings open, Steve there in what looks to be a very well worn gray shirt and jeans. Hair perfect as ever.

Mouth agape, he looks at Eddie - soaked from the storm - like he’s the last person he expected to see at his door.

Behind him, Eddie clocks the moving boxes stacked up all around the living room, labeled with sharpie.

He fumes at the sight.

Cell phone held to his ear still, Steve softly closes his mouth before he says, “Rob, I gotta go. I’ll call you back.” Then hangs up the phone. Shoves it deep into his pocket.

“What are you doing here?” He asks. None of the usual bite he usually puts in his tone.

“I needed to see you.” Eddie answers. Gestures to the boxes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going back to Italy.” He answers. Like it’s simple. Looking stressed, properly stressed for the first time Eddie can recall.

“Steve, what the fuck?” He stammers, short on what else he can say at this point.

Steve misunderstands. “I already made the calls about your record deal Eddie, there’s no stopping it now. The company bought your demo - they’ll get together with you about-” 

“I don’t give a fuck about the stupid record deal, Steve!” Eddie gasps. “I care about you! What are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

Steve winces, stammering though his explanation as he reasons, “It’s like I told Hopper, Ed. I can’t watch you ruin your life for me. So I’m going home.” 

“Home? That’s not your home, Steve. Your home is here. Where your job, where your best friend, where-” Where I am. He wants to say. Shakes his head in disbelief. “Steve, please.”

Steve swallows. “It’s just a job, Eddie. And Robin…she understands.”

“I don’t.” Eddie argues. “You’re running away. And you’re - you’re leaving me. What happened to - to I’m yours.” He reminds him of what he said in his office when he'd first hatched this scheme.

Steve looks broken at his question. “You were never mine Eddie. Despite that - Sei tutto ciò che non ho mai osato permettermi di volere - I’m sorry that I tried to claim you that way. I had no right. I can - I can see that now. It was never your burden to bear. Involving you was a mistake.”

Eddie flinches. “Are - are you really that aghast at being married to me?”

“The opposite.” Steve whispers.

“The opposite?” Eddie is incredulous.

“I…” Steve stutters.

Eddie’s angry again. His emotions knocking him from place to place at a breakneck pace. He’s done with the games, the manipulation, the carefully constructed answers. Wanting more. “Tell me the truth. You owe me that much.” He insists.

“Eddie.” Steve sighs, sounding like the older of the two of them. “What I asked of you was horrible. The blackmail was inexcusable and...You didn’t deserve it. And you didn’t deserve to be shackled to me, wrapped up in my lies and my bullshit. You’re so much better than any of it. You deserve so much…more.”

Eddie gapes at him. He continues. “And for the first time in a long time, thanks to you, I realize that I deserve more too. I deserve something that isn’t founded on deceit and pretending. I…I’m ready now, I think, to try and become a person who's worthy of it. And I have you to thank for it…because falling in love with you, it made me want to be a better person. Something I hadn’t felt in a really long time.” Steve smiles, and offers Eddie the door. “I’ll always appreciate you for that. Even if my heart aches to let you go.”

Eddie doesn’t hear the rest, if there’s more. All he’s heard is that Steve - Steve Harrington, his boss and his headache and his nightmare - and, most recently, his best friend…He loves him.

Steve loves him. 

And like hell is he letting him get on a plane after that.

Steve tries to show him out, gently, but Eddie bristles against his touch, bursting at the seams to protest. “Wait! Wait! Just, wait…Steve, what if it wasn’t pretend. What if…I feel the same?” He implores.

Steve’s hopeful smile falls. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He swears, choked up.

Steve shakes his head rapidly, voice low as he does that adorable thing he does when he doesn’t want to cry. “Trust me. You - You don’t really want to be with me.” 

“Steve.” Eddie protests.

He swallows. “See, the thing is, there is a reason why I’ve been alone since Nancy. I’m not good Eddie. I’m ruinous and full of baggage, wrapped up in my own need to be self-serving. And maybe someday that’ll change, but I’ll be in Italy by then…So…It would be easier if we forgot everything that happened, and I just left.” 

Eddie pulls Steve in, doesn’t let him go even as he won’t hear what he’s saying. “You’re right. That would be ‘easier.’”

“Eddie…” he argues.

“Steve.” He says again, more firm. “Listen to me carefully. I’m in love with you. So I’m going to need you to stop berating yourself and just marry me. Because I want to be with you and I can’t do that if you’re expelled from the country. We can figure everything else out later just, marry me, Steve. For real. And I will prove it. I will. I will spend every spare minute proving it. Proving that the way I feel is real.”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie presses closer. “Steve. Pretty please, with cherries on top, marry me. I’ll get on my knees, even.”

Another head shake. “You had better not.”

“Later then.” Eddie says fervently. “Just…will you?”

Steve thinks. Eddie waits, until finally he whispers. “Eddie…I’m scared.” 

“Me too! Terrified. Let’s be terrified together.” He laughs. And Steve stares at him for a few more seconds. Quiet. Contemplative.

“Stevie.” Eddie says fervently then, brown eyes glimmering with hope. “Nod if we’re good?”

Steve smiles, and he nods.

The tension in Eddie fades - and he kisses him. Really kisses him.

“So, let me see if I’ve got this right.” Hopper sighs, glaring sharply at the two of them, “You two are engaged again.” 

“Yes.” The two men answer in tandem.

Hopper raises an eyebrow, “For real?”

“Yes.” Steve smiles as Eddie says “Yeah.” Both of them nodding along.

“You’re sure you wanna go through this - because one wrong answer and I’m gonna Take. You. Down.” He threatens.

Steve and Eddie look at each other briefly before looking back at Hopper. 

“Okay.” They both simultaneously answer, a little timid but still sure. 

Hopper smirks, the challenge long past accepted as he says enthusiastically. “Let’s do it.”

Series Masterlist Next Part: Part 7, Epilogue Previous Part: Part 5

[strawberryspence]

i’ve got you under my skin - The Proposal AU

Chapter 4: trying to find my way home

“To give recognition to the beauty, honesty, and unselfish ways of Steve and Eddie’s true love…”

Honesty.

Which part of this was done with honesty?

Excerpt:

Eddie takes a deep breath as the first notes of Pachelbel’s Canon in D start playing.

No running away. No turning back now.

He steps into the middle of the aisle, the light shining through the barn’s windows.

(it's officially done and completed. enjoy 🫶🏻)

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: actor Steve??? Singer Eddie at the grammy's??? Eddie's band winning a Grammy & Eddie proposing to Steve accidentally in his speech???? & Steve crying and nodding yes but he is in tears & can't stand up??? Ok but then at the Oscars Steve actually proposes on stage because he had broken his leg & Eddie helped him on stage. But his proposal is the same as Eddie's because he also asks during his speech & Eddie cries and they get engaged again ❤️❤️❤️❤️

BABYYYYYY!!! NOT ONE, BUT TWO MARRIAGE PROPOSALS?! YES! PLEASE! I love the idea of Steve being prepared to propose to Eddie, has a whole plan, and then Eddie gets so emotional when he wins a Grammy that he does it before Steve gets a chance. Steve CANNOT be outdone, so obviously he does it too. We love love! - Mickala ❤️

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

Somehow, against every odd, Eddie Munson made it.

Corroded Coffin, through hard work and a pinch of luck, were nominated for a Grammy.

They’d spent years climbing their way to the top (hard work) and finally got signed to a huge record deal when an agent saw them opening for a metal band at a festival (pinch of luck).

Their first album broke records in ways that hadn’t been seen since Metallica stepped onto the scene.

Their first tour sold out in minutes.

Their second album had a lot of hype to live up to, and according to the Grammy nomination, it far surpassed the expectations.

He hated that Steve couldn’t walk the carpet with him, but he was happy he was waiting inside with all the significant others of the band.

Probably already drinking wine and champagne. Maybe even shots.

Dammit, Eddie hated walking the carpet.

Steve was a fun drunk, but he was even more fun when he’d only had a couple. His filter shut off, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bitchy. He was silly.

Steve was rarely silly.

Fun, funny, happy.

But never really silly.

Not like Eddie was.

But after a couple drinks? Downright clownish.

Eddie tried to rush through the remaining interviews, and the guys could tell, throwing him shocked looks. Eddie loved the spotlight, so it probably was a little shocking.

When they got inside, they were stopped by just about everyone who lived on planet Earth.

Eddie was ready to grab Steve and run.

Fuck the Grammy.

But he couldn’t do that. This was a possibly once in a lifetime thing. Wayne was watching at home even though he “doesn’t have time to watch those stupid awards.”

If they did win, Eddie had to give a speech, they had to go to afterparties, he had to fuck Steve against the window in their hotel room.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of any of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

He walked into the main room, suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd and the vast expanse of tables and seating and stage area in front of him.

He caught a glimpse of Steve at a table not too far away, laughing at something Jeff’s wife, Amy, was saying. She’d almost skipped tonight, her pregnancy far enough along that getting all dressed up didn’t sound remotely appealing. But then she’d heard Steve was going, and she’d called her sister to alter her dress immediately.

Gareth’s fiancé, Sam, was sitting away from everyone, still not sure of her place in the group. They’d had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and Eddie would be more worried if Sam wasn’t completely head over heels in love with Gareth in high school first. But she’d only just met everyone a month ago, and this was the first public event she attended with everyone. She was visibly nervous.

Grant’s wife, Savannah, was clearly trying to make conversation with everyone.

And Eddie knew that Steve and Amy weren’t purposefully making it harder, but they certainly weren’t making things easy for her.

They were laughing so much, he couldn’t even be sure they were laughing at something.

He sidled up to Steve’s side, plopping down in the empty chair to his right.

“Eddie! Amy’s here!” Steve smacked his arm excitedly.

He was at least three wines in.

“I see that, sweetheart. Hi, Amy.”

“Hey, Eddie. He’s drinking for two,” Amy smiled fondly as Steve took another sip of wine.

“And she’s eating for two!” Steve said as he reached out to touch her belly. “I can’t believe I don’t get to have your babies, Eds.”

Eddie snorted. Amy let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can give it our best shot later tonight,” Eddie whispered in his ear, smirking to himself when he saw Steve shiver.

They all continued chatting, occasionally getting interrupted by guests: producers, musicians, agents, even some kids who were big fans.

When the show started, Steve was drifting. He’d had maybe one too many, and he’d reached the sleepy part of wine drunk a lot sooner than he should’ve. Maybe because he barely slept last night. Maybe because Eddie fucked him in the shower and the couch and the bed, and then woke him up early to fuck him on the counter before he had to leave for an interview with Good Morning America. He was tired.

Eddie was tired too, but he was used to a lot of late nights and early mornings over the last couple of years.

Plus, he was running on so much adrenaline at the thought of winning a Grammy, he was pretty sure he could stay awake for another 12 hours.

Steve’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder, his hand entangled in Eddie’s.

For seven years, Steve’s been his biggest fan, his person, his everything.

And for three years before that, he was his best friend.

He was there at grungy bars, outdoor festivals in rain or shine, that one fundraising event at the mall that was a total disaster. He was front row at their first opening gig for a Midwest metal band, and front row at their opening gig for Ghost. He was backstage for their first headlining tour, in the studio when they recorded their first and second albums, and on the tour bus when he could miss work.

It only made sense that he was here for this.

He wanted him here for everything.

This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, probably not even the hundredth. He’d wanted to marry Steve for years.

But Steve was focused on building his own career, and Eddie insisted that he do what he wanted to do no matter what Eddie did with his career.

It meant a lot of time apart, a lot of FaceTiming at weird hours of the day or night because it’s the only time their schedules would sync up, a lot of missing each other.

But they believed in their relationship the same way they believed in each other, and they kept making it work.

He had a ring. He bought it years ago. Wayne had it so Steve wouldn’t find it, but they’d already planned on him taking it with him on his next stop in Hawkins.

He let himself relax a bit. Had a glass of wine, then champagne, and a beer. Their category was almost the last of the night, so they were able to relax for a while.

Steve knew a lot of people in the industry because of his acting career, but he’d made it very clear tonight was about Eddie to anyone who tried to talk to him.

The night was long, longer than Eddie could really handle.

His nerves were through the roof and Steve had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

When their category was announced, Eddie nudged him awake gently.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m either about to be a Grammy winner or get a lot of great sympathy sex from you,” Eddie whispered in his ear as a camera guy settled in front of their table to get their reactions.

Steve was suddenly wide awake, the realization that this could be one of the biggest moments of their lives making him grip Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.

“And the winner for Best Metal Album is…” the announcer paused for dramatic effect. “Corroded Coffin with Reanimate!”

The whole room was cheering, but their table was going wild.

Steve jumped up the moment they said Corroded Coffin, jumping up and down and pulling Eddie up on his feet.

The next minute was a blur as they made their way to the stage, his boys surrounding him and clapping each other on the back excitedly.

They’d all worked hard for this, dealt with endless bullying in high school because their music was different, fought through the struggle of trying to appease bar owners and small town festival organizers with “softer” music so they could get in front of the right people. They spent thousands of dollars they realistically didn’t have to travel to places where metal was more welcome.

They had to take out personal loans to get studio time to record a demo and send it in to every record company they could think of.

Steve gave them 25% of his inheritance to buy their first tour bus because “it’s a good investment, and it’ll save money on hotels and eating out.”

When they got to the stage, Eddie realized that he’d have to speak.

Shit.

He’d kind of prepared a speech, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up too much so he’d just let it go.

“Uh, wow. Okay. Thank you guys so much!” He started. He could just barely see the faces of everyone at their table, but Steve’s beaming smile was enough. “I didn’t prepare much other than that because I just didn’t think we would win. I know we’re talented and we work hard, but this is the biggest award you can win in the music industry and we still have a long way to go to really feel like we can even be in the same room as most of these talented musicians.”

He was killing it!

“I need to thank these guys up here with me, all the guys who work with us in the studio, everyone who makes tour possible, my Uncle Wayne, who probably is crying but won’t admit it when I talk to him later.” Everyone laughed. “But I have to thank Steve more than anything. I think the guys would agree he’s been the guy there for us through everything. He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s our first and biggest fan. Sorry to all the wives and future wife at our table.” More laughter. “I don’t know where we’d be without him, but I really don’t think I’d be who I am if not for the way he loves me, the way he’s always loved me. Even when it’s hard, even when we go months without being able to see each other, we find ways to make us work. We keep doing the damn thing even when the damn thing is hard. I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and Wayne is gonna kill me, but Stevie, sweetheart, I can’t go another day without knowing. Will you marry me?”

The room erupted into cheers, the guys on stage jumping up and down. He saw the camera guy zooming in on Steve’s reaction as they broadcast it on a screen by the stage.

But Eddie didn’t need the screen. He could see the tears streaming down Steve’s face as he cried, his smile bigger than life as he nodded.

“He said yes!” Jeff yelled.

The crowd cheered louder as Eddie handed the Grammy award to Gareth and ran down the stairs back to his table.

Steve jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Eddie’s hands immediately went to his thighs to support him, and Steve’s hands cupped his face.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve sobbed out.

“I can’t believe I haven’t done it earlier,” Eddie responded.

They kissed in front of the hundreds of people here and the possibly millions watching at home.

It was one of the best kisses they’d ever shared. The room around them went quiet, at least to them, as their lips moved against each other passionately, but with a gentleness they rarely had with each other anymore.

They pulled apart after a few more seconds, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.

Eddie gently let Steve down, using his thumbs to wipe away some of his tears and giving him a beaming smile.

“Wayne’s got the ring. I have a feeling he’ll be making us come for a visit very soon so I’ll put it on you then,” Eddie whispered.

The rest of the band had trickled back to the table to collect him for post-win interviews backstage, but he couldn’t go without one more kiss.

Steve gave it willingly, always giving love in whatever way he could.

“Okay, I gotta go answer some questions. We’ll be quick,” he said with one more kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Love you. So proud of you,” Steve said as he pulled away.

“Love you so much!”

—---------------------------------------

Steve’s engagement ring glistened in the spotlight hitting their table at the Oscars.

The Oscars.

Steve Harrington, almost Munson, was sitting at the Oscars because he was nominated for two awards: Best Actor in a Drama and Best Actor in a Comedy.

Eddie was sitting next to him, somehow more nervous here than he was at the Grammys.

His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing up and down since they sat down 20 minutes ago. The other people at the table were luckily good friends and didn’t think anything of his anxiety.

Eddie never got nervous before shows, or interviews, or photoshoots, or even his award shows. But when it came to Steve, he was a nervous wreck.

Before auditions, before appearances, before red carpets. He was on edge whether he was with him or not.

Tonight was no different.

They’d had incredibly busy schedules after the Grammys, only seeing each once over the last three months. But Eddie had told his manager nearly six months ago that he would not miss this for any reason, that Steve supported him at all of his big events, and he wasn’t going to ask permission to support his fiance, he just was.

Except it turned into more of Steve supporting him as the night wore on, the realization that Steve could very well win both categories keeping Eddie strung out.

It was actually a little cute.

The comedy category was first, and he had tough competition. Anytime you’re going against people like Jonah Hill and the people at Disney you have to be ready to lose.

And he did lose. Well, Eddie kept saying “it’s not a loss, it’s just not a win”, which was really the same thing.

But Steve wasn’t as upset as he expected to be. Comedy wasn’t really his forte, he’d only done a handful of comedy movies and shows over the last few years, and none of them were major roles.

It was the drama he cared about.

He’d put his heart and soul into this film. It was regarded as the breakthrough queer film of the year, up for enough awards tonight to be considered an Oscar Sweep.

He never would have gotten here if not for the man next to him, so he could handle his nerves easily.

“Drama is next,” Eddie breathed out, his hand squeezing Steve’s knee.

“I know, baby.”

“What if you win? Oh my god, what if you don’t? No, no. You’ll win. This is your best work. Seriously, don’t know why I would ever think you wouldn’t.”

Steve smirked as the announcer started saying all the nominees’ names.

The camera focused on him was probably capturing a lot of Eddie’s mumbling under his breath, but luckily they weren’t mic’d up so it would be easy to explain away.

“The winner for Best Actor in a Drama…Steve Harrington!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Steve I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel them. Or my arms. I think I might black out, oh my god,” Eddie immediately turned to him with tears in his eyes.

“Baby, I need you to help me on stage. My leg’s broken, remember?”

And that was a pain in the ass. His last role required some stunts and Steve was an idiot and insisted on trying one for himself. It didn’t go well and he’s lucky it was just a broken leg.

Steve kissed Eddie’s lips softly, quickly, to get him to focus.

“Right! Okay,” Eddie stood up and held his arm out for Steve, who was using a single crutch to get around this evening instead of two. “Off we go!”

Steve giggled, and nodded at people clapping as they passed them on their way to the stage. Eddie was so busy looking ahead, trying to get him to the final destination safely, he missed the announcer making a joke about Steve earning the drama award by breaking his leg.

When they got on stage, Steve stood at the mic while Eddie stood at the side of the stage. He was crying, much like Steve had when he got his Grammy award.

“Sorry for taking my sweet time. As you can see, I thought I was able to do what stunt actors do and forgot that they’re actually very in shape and talented.” The room laughed. “Hey, no laughing, I didn’t win in comedy.” More laughter, louder this time. “I have to thank everyone who worked on this film; It’s truly one of those films that will continue to change lives. It was the most difficult job I have ever had, and I am so grateful for everyone who gave me the chance to prove that I could do it. I’d like to thank all my kiddos, who aren’t kiddos anymore, for all yelling at me in the group chat when I almost turned this down because I didn’t think I could do it. My agent, who goes through a lot of amazing opportunities but always manages to find the perfect one.” Steve looked over at Eddie and let himself finally tear up a little. “And Eddie. Can’t forget that guy. My support, literally.” He saw Eddie snort out a laugh between his tears. “Would not be standing here without him and not just because he had to walk me up here. Every time I thought about giving up, he made me go to one more audition or read one more script. Every time I’ve not gotten an offer I really wanted, he’s been there to remind me that there’s something better coming along. Like this one. I’d been turned down for a show I really wanted the same day I sent in the audition tapes for this role. I cried for hours on the phone with Eddie and he told me, I’ll never forget his exact words, ‘You’re meant for better and better will find you.’ And it did. But the best is you, baby. You’re the better that is at the beginning and end of all my days. I could never work again and I’d still be the happiest guy in the world because you’re mine and you want me just as much as I want you. Eight years ago, I was closeted, telling myself that the way I felt when my best friend hugged me was just because he was my best friend. Now, I’m winning an Oscar for playing a queer man in a deeply moving film about finding love for yourself even when love from others isn’t an option. I’m marrying you, that best friend who probably knew exactly what he was doing when he hugged me. And I know I’m wearing your engagement ring, and we’ve already set a date and picked the cake, but I feel like I should ask. Eddie, you’re the only one who gets me at my best, and you also get me at my worst and still love me anyway. Will you marry me?”

He watched as Eddie’s brain ran through a million options at once, finally settling on joining him at the microphone.

He pulled him against his chest, hand against the back of his head.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes. Fuck, yes,” Eddie sobbed out.

The crowd was cheering, and the cameras were circling around the stage getting every angle of the moment that they could.

“Next time you’re on this stage accepting an award, you’ll be Steve Munson,” Eddie teased.

“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Steve said against his shoulder.

They pulled apart enough to kiss, much like they did at the Grammys: soft, passionate, but slow.

“Do you have a secret ring hiding at Wayne’s too?”

“No, no ring. Just wanted to show the world I love you as much as you love me.”

“Oh, so it’s to show off. Got it,” Eddie poked him in the side, smirking when he laughed. “Get your trophy before they kick us off the stage.”

Steve grabbed his award, waved to the crowd with one final thank you, and let Eddie help him off the stage.

They were getting married in three months, honeymooning in four. They’d just bought their first house together, spent the last seven years renting apartments wherever life took them. They started talking about taking a break after Corroded Coffin’s next tour and Steve’s next movie so they could start a family.

They had so much to look forward to.

But most importantly, they had the backseat of a limo entirely to themselves on the way back to the hotel.

If they left a $500 tip for cleaning after, it was their business.

[zaphodkilledthespeedforce]

I'm getting suit ads bc of a fic I read that had links to the suits Steve & Eddie were wearing at their fake wedding. It's so weird

[solarmorrigan]

Romance, Commitment, and Cake

For the @steddie-spooktober day 15 prompt: Baking Rated: T | Words: 733 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Steve Harrington can cook, or bake at least, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has always loved fall. He loves the way the world turns colors as the leaves begin to change, he loves how it gets cooler and he can wear his layers of jackets without feeling like he wants to die, he loves all the poetic themes of death and change, he loves Halloween. In more recent years, however, he’s learned to love fall because that’s when Steve starts baking like a man possessed, and doesn’t stop until the new year.

He doesn’t bother holding in the moan that wants to work its way out at the first bite of the pumpkin cheesecake Steve has presented him with. It’s perfect; creamy and light, the sweet and the spice blending and melting on his tongue. Eddie thinks he might actually need a moment alone with the cheesecake.

“Good?” Steve asks with a knowing little grin as he washes bowls in the sink.

“Marry me,” Eddie groans the moment he’s swallowed his mouthful.

Steve snorts out a little laugh. “We’re already married,” he reminds Eddie, holding up his sudsy left hand to show off the gold wedding band glinting there.

“This time it would be different,” Eddie says, taking a moment to get in another bite of cheesecake. “Last time I married you because you’re sweet, and you’re sharp, and you’re funny, and you’re beautiful, and because I love you. This time I’d be marrying you for your baking.”

“Man, don’t be shy, tell it to me like it is,” Steve says drily, but there’s a pleased, pink flush high on his cheeks.

“Just being honest with you, baby,” Eddie says with a grin before tucking back into his slice of cake.

“You know,” Steve says slowly, eyes trained on the dishes in the sink, “our anniversary is coming up. Five years.”

“Mhm?” Eddie hums around another mouthful.

“We can’t get married again, but we could… renew our vows, maybe.” There’s such a studied nonchalance to the suggestion that Eddie wonders if Steve hadn’t already been thinking about it.

And it’s a little funny that the idea of holding another ceremony, of putting on a suit and standing up and pouring his heart out in front of a group of people, of spending the day trading pleasantries and pretending to be at least halfway civil only produces happy little butterflies instead of the disdain it once would have.

Eddie had never gone in for romantic conformity, never thought marriage as a social convention was worth shit. He’d scorned the idea of perfect little white weddings, of the elitism and the privilege and the inherent heteronormativity. Marriage was a trumped-up gimmick made to sell needlessly expensive things to gullible couples with more money than sense.

And then he’d met Steve.

Steve, who had rocked the foundation of Eddie’s way of looking at the world; Steve, who Eddie loves more than anything; Steve, who loves romance, even if he won’t say as much out loud; Steve, who Eddie had proposed to, because he’d wanted to claim him and show him off to the world in as many ways as possible, wanted everyone to know that no matter which way they look at it that Steve is with him.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Steve says when Eddie’s been quiet a moment too long. “We could just have a small party; family and friends.” He gives Eddie a sidelong glance. “I could make a cake.”

“A cake, huh?” Eddie asks, biting down on a sly smile as he puts his empty plate down on the counter and sidles up to Steve at the sink. “What kind of cake?”

“Any kind of cake you want,” Steve says, looking back up at Eddie with eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me for my baking, after all. Only seems right you should choose.”

Eddie hums, moving around behind Steve and wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’ve convinced me, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crook of Steve’s neck. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” Steve cranes his head around to look at Eddie, showing off the luminous smile lighting his face.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, leaning into Steve a little further. “Lemme tell everyone how much I love you all over again.”

The way Steve practically melts against Eddie is worth all the pomp and ceremony in the world, Eddie thinks.

(But the promise of cake doesn’t hurt.)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Their planning session didn’t bear much fruit. Harrington had tried the water in his sink, and it came out a murky black. When he pulled snacks out of a hidden bottom in one of his dresser drawers, each unopened pack was full of mold and ash. 

They had no weapons, no game-plan, and the sky was still red. In short, they were fucked. 

The bickering was kept barely civil by the need to control their volume. 

“–just think we should consider scoping the place out!” Harrington was whispering but enunciating like a shout. “For all we know there’s good food at the store, or a way out of here right where we went in, or at least some water at the quarry!”

“You want to drink quarry water? That shit’s inedible even when there’s not toxic ash particles floating in it!”

“That’s not the point!” Harrington’s passing in front of him, raking his hand through his drooping hair. “We can’t just hide in my room forever. No one’s coming to save us!”

“Not forever, man.” Eddie replies, leg twitching from where he’s still sitting at the edge of Harrington’s bed. “But that thing’s still out there. I don’t know about you, but I think we should have a better idea for surviving it than just hoping it’s not out there!”

Harrington droops, shoulders, mouth, hair, and then drops to the carpet where he was standing. “Shit, okay, okay, you’re right.”

That same thrill goes through him at seeing Harrington beneath his feet. He squashes it down, scooching off the bed to sit across from Harrington on the floor. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice gone quiet and kind at the look of desolation on Harrington’s face. “We’re gonna figure this shit out, man.”

Harrington laughs, and it sounds remarkably like the laugh he always heard across high school hallways and cafeterias and gyms. Hollow. Eddie has the absurd urge to throw his arms around him. 

“Okay man, how about we start by raiding your closet. I don’t know about you, but my clothes reek like your rich-boy pool.”

Harrington scoffs, but dutifully levers himself off the floor to shuffle through his open closet. He throws a navy blue long sleeve in Eddie’s direction, followed by an awful pair of bleach-washed jeans, socks, and a pair of underwear. 

Then, like Eddie’s another jock and they’re in the locker room after practice, Harrington starts stipping with no regard to modesty. Eddie quickly turns his back from the sight and begins to do the same. His jeans jangle when he drops them on the carpet, chain and lunch box rattling when they hit the floor. Eddie holds a silent memorial for all the dignity he was about to lose.

He’s just pulled the slightly short pants on and buttoned the fly when he hears the little “huh,” Harrington lets out.

Quickly pulling the shirt over his head, he turns to see what Harrington’s on about. Luckily, the other boy still had his underwear on. Unluckily that was all he had on as he crouched down and stared at the ring cradled in his hand. Absurdly, Eddie thought of Gollum and had to bite his lip on the laugh in his throat.

“Whatcha got there, Stevie boy?”

Still crouched, Harrington held the ring up toward Eddie, clutched between pointer finger and thumb, looking like a man picking the worst possible moment to propose marriage.

“This yours?” he asks.

It was. “Where’d you get that?” he demands, snatching it from Harrington’s grasp.

“Fell out of my pants.”

Eddie looks down at the little ring in his palm. It was his Mom’s–the perfect size for only his littlest fingers. He remembers the pressure and sudden pain of his finger being wrenched out of where it was tucked into Harrington’s pants. He hadn’t even realized it was missing. 

Slipping it onto his other pinkie, Eddie murmurs a quiet “thanks,” cheeks blooming with color at the implications. 

Harrington doesn’t respond, but Eddie can feel his gaze on the back of his head as he walks over to Harrington’s horrific plaid curtains and twitches them back to look outside. There’s nothing to see but the same red sky, the same vine-covered pool, the same empty backyard they’d fled last night. 

Not wanting to stare at the hopeless sight anymore, Eddie bends down to pull the borrowed socks and his slightly damp boots back on his feet.

Eddie can hear the sound of clothes shuffling behind him, refusing to turn back around until the sound stops. But then Harrington gasps out, “Nancy?”

Eddie turns, expecting to see Harrington’s girlfriend miraculously in the room with them, but there’s nothing but Harrington spinning wildly around the room, looking for something Eddie can’t see. 

“Nancy?” he says again, louder this time, still at nothing.

Eddie’s sure he’s gone around the bend, and he’s going to have to put him down like old yeller, but then he hears it, “-would he have gone?” It’s quiet, muffled, but there.

“I don’t know, Nancy,” another voice replies, sounding exasperated. “Maybe he’s off with his parents vacationing in Europe or something. Who cares? Can we go before someone calls the police?”

“Barb?” Steve calls again, growing louder still. 

Eddie still can’t see anyone, but he calls out “Wheeler?” desperate to be heard.

“Will is missing, though!” Wheeler replies. Her voice sounds shrill—less like she’s panicking and more like she’s about ready to lose it and sock her friend in the jaw. “Do you really think that’s a coincidence?”

“Yes!”

“Nancy!” Steve calls again, this time loud enough to echo through the room.

Eddie’s yanked open the closed door to the Harrington’s stupid en-suite bathroom, like Wheeler and her mystery friend will suddenly appear in the bath tub, hanging out like the world is still normal. He’s even poked his head into the dark interior of the closet they’d slept in, but no dice.

Harrington is still screaming his head off to the two girl’s who are either playing the world’s cruelest prank or simply can’t hear him, when Eddie opens Harrington’s bedroom door.

It happens before he’s taken even one step out into the hallway. There’s that sound that makes his hair stand on end. Foxes chittering, television static trapped in an enclosed box and made horrific and animal. Eddie closes the door.

Harrington’s still screaming as it grows louder—grows closer.

“Harrington,” he snaps, voice cracking on each syllable.

He doesn’t stop screaming until Eddie’s backed up right into him, unable to look away from the door as he trips over Harrington’s feet. His shoulders are setadied.

Nancy’s still talking. Eddie can’t hear her over Harrington’s ragged breathing, over that thing chittering up the stairs.

“Munson, what’s—” He must hear it because he stops talking, and his nails really dig in, little pricks of pain that Eddie wants to lean back into.

He finds himself bargaining in his brain to some nebulous being he doesn’t believe in. He’ll let Harrington beat him bloody if that thing doesn’t come into this room. He’ll tell Wayne he loves him more. He’ll stop skipping P.E. He’ll go to church, god damn it! But none of it works. The sound grows louder.

Harrington’s forearm is suddenly in front of his sternum, pulling him along backwards. Eddie stumbles further into him, letting his weight drop onto Harrington fully. The bastard doesn’t even seem to notice, as he continues dragging Eddie bodily away from the door.

Wheeler’s friend is talking now. Eddie has no idea what she’s saying, only that her voice turns angry and shrill just as Harrington begins to slide his bedroom window up. Just as that horrific nightmare of a monster busts down Harrington’s bedroom door like it’s a cardboard playhouse.

He’s paralyzed, rooted to the spot as the thing opens its gaw and screams, twining horrifically with the mundanity of two invisible girls arguing. The blinds clack together as Harrington lunges through them, pulling Eddie out the window behind him. He can hear the strings holding them together snap–knows the sound intimately from all the guitar strings he’d broken while learning.

His back scrapes painfully on the top of the sill as he’s crammed through the opening. He doesn’t care what shapes Harrington configures his body into as long as he keeps pulling him away from that thing. 

His opinion holds as Harrington drags him bodily across the shingles of his roof. The monster lunges, stuck halfway through the too-small window, as Eddie’s hauled upright.

“Fucking, go,” Harrington yells, shoving him toward the sheer drop off the roof. He’s just considering jumping when he continues, somehow finding the energy to sound exhausted, “the gutters, man. Shimmy down. I do it all the time.”

He’s not looking at Eddie anymore, back turned like somehow keeping the monster in sight will stop it from swallowing them whole. 

Eddie eyes the gutter. It looks flimsy and too smooth to hold onto, but the horrific sounds emanating from Harrington’s bedroom make a compelling argument. He kneels, latches his hands into the loop of the gutter and swings himself off the roof. 

Vertigo almost takes him down, but Eddie manages to hang on, shuffling quickly down as he hears glass begin to splinter from above. 

Harrington’s foot catches him in the shoulder before he makes it all the way down. His fingers slip–he falls.

It’s not a long fall, but he lays, winded in the aftermath and watching Harrington leap and roll like some goddamn action hero, before he’s yanking Eddie up and dragging him blindly away from the house.

It’s quiet by the time they reach the woods. Eddie can’t hear Harrington behind him past his own ragged breathing. He only knows he’s there by the warm hand clutched tightly into his vest, like he’s a school child fond of running into the road. Eddie doesn’t mind.

He minds even less when, once fully ensconced in the trees, Harrington pushes him against a tree and pulls him down beside him. 

It’s reminiscent of those first moments in the closet. They’re close together, Eddie can’t catch his breath, and they’re both staring, horrified in front of them waiting for the big bad wolf to come eat them.

Harrington is holding his hand.

Part 4