#steve harrington/ofc

[august-grey]

I don't need your closure | chapter 13

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masterpost

July 1986

This was it. This was how Alice was going to die. Not at the hands of evil Russians miles below a shopping mall or torn to shreds by one of the multitude of monsters that plagued her little town. No, she was going to go out in the passenger seat of he mother’s Volvo, knuckles white around the handle on the door, foot punched down the invisible brake pedal. 

Fighting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut, Alice contemplated the choices that led her to this moment. How had she gone from taking Dustin to an orthodontist appointment to fearing for her mortal wellbeing in a mostly empty strip-mall parking lot with her 15-year-old brother behind the wheel of their mother’s car? 

Alice looked over at the boy in question, his eyes wide and laser-focused on the pavement, and reminded herself why she was doing this. 

“So, I’m taking driver’s ed next year.” Dustin piped up from the passenger seat, his lisp a little more pronounced after getting his braces tightened.

“Oh yeah?” Dustin gave a grunt of affirmation. “Mr. Paulson still teaching that?”

“Uh-huh, I heard he’s brutal.” Alice nodded emphatically. That was putting it lightly. Dustin continued, “Lots of kids…they’re getting practice over the summer…just to get a head start, y’know? Mike’s and Lucas’ dads have taken them out a bunch. Mike’s even been on a real road already.”

“That’s not a bad idea, extra practice would definitely help. Paulson flunked me twice before I finally got my license. Just never really got a chance to practice after dad left and everything. Has mom taken…” She trailed off, a sudden realization dawning on her. No. Of course mom hadn’t had the time to take Dustin out to drive. Their mother barely had time to take care of herself let alone teach her anxious children to maneuver a vehicle.

Not for the first time, Alice found herself cursing her father. Don’t get her wrong, Alice was glad that her parents were divorced. Michael was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve anything her mother had to offer. She’d always known that her mother was too good for that sorry excuse of a human. Alice just wished he had found a scrap of humanity before abandoning his family, leaving them with nothing but a forwarding address and a promise to see his children at Christmas.

Alice hadn’t been surprised in the slightest when Christmas came and went without even a phone call, but Dustin…Dustin had been heartbroken. For months afterward he waited for their father to simply return. To change his mind, realize that he had made a mistake and come home to his family. The brief phone calls from Michael yielded empty promises of going for ice cream or baseball games, leaving Dustin disappointed again and again as plans fell through. 

Anger festered inside Alice, finally bubbling over one day as she sat with her little brother as he watched the sky darken out their front window, waiting for their father’s car to pull into the driveway for a belated birthday visit. Dustin’s thirteenth birthday had been three weeks prior, and the bastard still couldn’t be bothered to even give his son this small gift.

Down the hall, Alice heard her mother leave yet another message for her ex-husband. He wasn’t coming, Alice had a feeling from the beginning. Knowing this didn’t make the situation any easier. A small shake of their mother’s head when she returned to the living room was all it took for Dustin’s resolve to crumple. Running into his mother’s arms, he buried his face into her chest, shoulders heaving with silent sobs. 

Alice needed to hit something. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. She wasn’t going to let her father get away with hurting her brother like that. Not again. While the rest of her family was distracted, Alice smuggled her mom’s car keys out of her purse and drove the three hours to their father’s new bachelor pad, stopping only to grab a birthday card from a random drug store. 

Michael could only stare at his daughter, open-mouthed, as she shoved the card into his hands, demanding he sign it for Dustin. He did so, hastily shoving a few twenties in the envelope for good measure. Then he had the gall to ask Alice how she was doing. Ignoring his question completely, Alice simply told her father to either make a real effort to have a relationship with his son or to leave them the hell alone. 

She couldn’t remember the half-excuse he had spluttered out as she left him in the doorway, but she did remember crying the entire ride home. She remembered the look on Dustin’s face as she pressed the card into his hands and being grounded for a week for disappearing with her mother’s car for seven hours on a school night. She remembered being the one to step up in her father’s place. Taking Dustin to school and to extracurriculars, helping her mother with home repairs, picking up extra chores around the house. 

And now, she supposed, she was going to have to teach her father’s youngest how to drive.

***

“Okay, now slowly—“ Dustin slammed the brakes at the edge of the lot, jolting Alice forward in her seat. She took a calming breath before gently correcting him as he turned the wheel, taking the car down the row of shopfronts. “Try to ease into the stops, Dusty. Gently press the brake as you’re coming up to the—oh Jesus.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He exclaimed, shifting the direction of the car after coming a little too close to the curb. “This is awful, how do you do this every day without feeling like you’re going do murder someone with this death-machine?”

“You just have to…I don’t know…give it time and you kinda become one with the death-machine?” Her brother shot her a quick, bewildered glance. “Does that make sense? It gets easier with practice, I promise. Just…try to relax.”

“That’s not going to happen.” He groaned miserably, braking a little too hard again in the back corner of the lot. Fumbling around the console in a panic, he flipped on the turn signal, then the windshield wipers. “At this rate I’ll never be comfortable behind the wheel and I’ll never get my license and...and— Alice, how do I put this stupid thing in park?!”

“Calm down, you’re fine.” She reached over, moving the shifter into park and turning off the ignition. As soon as he was able to release the brake, Dustin threw himself from the Volvo. Alice rolled her eyes at his dramatics and exited the vehicle herself. “You’re not going to be amazing right away, Dustin. It’s going to take time. We’ll go out more once I get my car back and you’ll be a pro by the end of the summer. Paulson won’t know what hit him.”

Dustin didn’t look convinced. He leaned against the hood of the yellow Volvo and buried his face in his hands. Alice felt a little out of her depth; she was usually the one freaking out in every situation. Her brother was normally overly confident in nearly everything he did. He’d thrown himself into countless dangerous situations without a second thought; seeing him freak out over driving of all things was disconcerting to say the least. 

“Are you hungry? We can stop for burgers or something?” Food. If there was anything that could distract Alice from an anxiety spiral, it was a good, greasy meal. Surely that would work on her brother, too.

He shook his head glumly, looking forlornly across the parking lot. “Nah, my mouth is still sore from the orthodontist.”

Alice sighed. She didn’t like it, but she had one last idea that could bring up his mood, even just for the moment. 

“You wanna stop in RadioShack before heading home?” That got his attention. Shooting Alice a Cheshire grin, Dustin took off across the pavement toward the electronics store.

She trailed behind him, shouting, “You have twenty minutes! Any longer and you’re walking home!”

***

RadioShack had been a mistake. Sweat dripped down her neck as Alice glanced down at her watch; Dustin had been in the shop for nearly 45 minutes and she was slowly losing her mind. By the time she popped into the shop, Dustin had already been neck deep in whatever gadget he needed for his project of the week. 

Deciding she didn’t want to get roped into a one-sided conversation she couldn’t keep up with (she wasn’t feeling that generous), Alice picked up a small pack of batteries for her Walkman and left her brother muttering to himself over a display of tiny voice recorders. 

Five minutes. She’d give Dustin five more minutes and then she’d go in there and physically drag him out if she needed to. The midday sun emerged from behind a cloud, shining through the windshield and effectively blinding Alice. Make that two minutes.

“Alice?” Jumping at the sound of her name, Alice scanned the parking lot for a familiar face. The lot had become considerably more full than it was during Dustin’s impromptu driving lesson, but it didn’t take long to find the source of the voice before they flung themselves halfway through Alice’s open window, obscuring her vision with a mop of messy brown hair.

“Jesus, Robin, back up would ya?” Alice grasped her assailant by the shoulders and gently shoved her out of her personal bubble. Robin dropped to a crouch next to the car, so she was level with the open window, eyes wide and panicked.

“Thank god you’re here. Wait…why are you here? Y’know what nevermind, I’m in a crisis and I need you to talk me down.” 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Reaching for the handle of door, Alice gave the seemingly innocuous plaza a once over, searching for anything out of the ordinary or potentially dangerous. Robin rested a hand on her arm, drawing Alice’s attention back to her.

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Robin took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak again, and…stopped. Alice furrowed her brow and waited for the girl to speak. After a few long moments of silence, Alice gestured impatiently for Robin to continue. 

“I’ve been invited to a party.” She finally blurted out, expectantly looking to Alice for advice. 

“Okay.”

“By a girl.”

“Okay?”

“A specific girl.”

“…okay?”

“…a specific redheaded clarinetist with incredible taste in movies.”

“Oh! Oh my god, okay! When did this happen?”

“Just now, in the Rite-Aid tampon isle.” Robin stated miserably, popping up from her position by the door to pace the pavement. “So you see my problem, now!”

“Uh no, am I missing something?” Taking her chances with the angry July sun, Alice exited the blessed cover of the car as she watched her friend frantically pace the length of the adjacent parking space. “You like Vickie. This is good news, Robin!”

“No, Alice, this is an absolute nightmare!”  Robin stopped to run both of her hands through her hair, making her bangs stick up in perfectly odd angles to add to the slightly manic aura she was giving off. “Before this moment, Vickie had been purely a hypothetical. I could daydream all I want, but now, now…this is real life. She asked me to a party. And what’s going to happen, huh? I’m going to make a fool of myself and word vomit all over her and she’ll be horrified and I’ll be arrested for…for something. I’m sure I’ll deserve it at that point.”

Alice shook her head in disbelief. What was up with everyone today? First Dustin with his driving lesson, now Robin was having a complete meltdown on her watch. It was only a matter of time, she supposed, seeing as both Robin and Dusin had dealt with their fair share of Alice’s neuroticism. The least she could do was return the favor.

“Well, we can’t let that happen, can we? You’re not cut out for prison, no offence.” Alice stepped forward, reaching up to smooth Robin’s hair back to its normal state of messiness. Once she was satisfied, Alice settled her hands on the taller girl’s shoulders. “You just need backup, a wingman. We can make it a group thing. You, me, and Vickie.”

“That’s not a group, that’s you getting drunk and awkwardly chaperoning me like some sort of messed up, regency-era courting ritual, all while I desperately try not to make a fool of myself in front of a cute girl.” Robin mumbled through pursed lips. Though Robin wasn’t wrong, Alice didn’t exactly enjoy being reduced to nothing more than a bumbling overseer. As much as she wanted to help Robin, third-wheeling all night wasn’t necessarily Alice’s idea of a good time. 

She had an idea; whether it was a good one or not was the nagging question in the back of her mind. Briefly, Alice considered the last disastrous party she’s attended in Hawkins. It had been the precursor to what was possibly the worst night of her life, if you don’t take all of the the literal horrors and death she’d experienced over the past few years into account.

The night she was sure she’d lost her best friend. For good.

It’s different now, she reasoned with herself. She and Steve were on good terms; well on their way to friendship again. And though she didn’t yet have the full story of what had happened that night…or what had led to it, Alice could at least hope it wouldn’t happen again. There was only one way to find out, she supposed.

“I can, uh, askstevetogo.” Alice mumbled, half-heartedly tossing out the thought before she could stop herself. It wasn’t as if she was looking for an excuse to see him or anything, it just made sense. They are all friends. Friends go to parties together. As friends. “Then it’ll be a real group. Make things less weird, y’know?”

Robin’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she shimmied out of Alice’s grip. “Oh, no, no. You can’t just say something like that and not elaborate. Did you and Steve make up?”

“Kinda? We’re…talking. It’s not a big deal.”  Robin seemed unimpressed, to say the least. Alice knew the girl wasn’t going to let her get away with that bullshit answer, and with a sigh, launched into an abridged version of what had happened with Sudsy. How she and Steve had ended up babysitting together, how Alice had emotionally blown up and confronted him, and then the subsequent, tentative makeup.

Obviously, making up with Steve was, in fact, a big deal to Alice. The past week had been the happiest she’d felt in months, and as much as she hated to admit it, that had a lot to do with Steve Harrington. True to his word, Steve hadn’t pressured Alice into anything since their conversation the previous weekend. To no one’s surprise, especially Alice’s, it took less than a day before she found herself eager to see him again. 

So, after harassing Dustin for Steve’s new phone number, she called him. He sounded pleased, but genuinely surprised to hear from her so soon. The palpable fondness in his voice combined with the itch to be within arms reach of him again, was how she found herself inviting Steve to take a walk with her. 

For safety purposes, of course. 

You see, Alice had a new client. A big, goofy Great Dane, who needed to be walked while her human worked overnights. Normally Alice wouldn’t think twice before declining the job; she and the dark didn’t really get along after everything she had been through. But this particular client had offered double her regular fee just to feed the dog dinner and take her on a quick walk before bed.

Alice couldn’t refuse the easy money, but that still left the problem of having to be outside. In the dark. Alone. She sucked it up the first night, walked the half-mile to the clients house, took the pup around the block while her nerves spiked, and finally ended up sprinting home after making sure the dog was safely in bed, the plan to call Steve already on her mind.  

As she predicted, he eagerly agreed to accompany her the next night. And then the next, and the next…until they fell into an easy, somewhat familiar, routine. Steve would pick her up at 8:30 on the dot, they’d take care of the dog, and then just sit and talk until Steve had to get himself to bed for work the next day. Sometimes Dustin would join them, if he wasn’t off galavanting with his Dungeons and Dragons club or messing with machines in his bedroom. But, mostly, it was just the two of them.

He followed her lead at every turn. Never pushing for anything more than what Alice was comfortable with giving, keeping a respectable distance. Alice, on the other hand, was having an incredibly hard time sticking to her own boundaries. Despite her reservations, Alice physically couldn’t keep herself away from Steve. It was like that night babysitting Holly had broke open a dam in Alice’s brain. 

Steve Harrington loved her. 

Just the thought alone was hard for Alice to wrap her mind around. Truthfully, she was scared. Hell, Alice was terrified. And still justifiably angry on top of it all. Months of convincing herself to turn her hurt into hate couldn’t be washed away so easily. No matter how badly she wanted to believe that Steve was truly repentant and wanted to make things right with her, Alice couldn’t shake the feeling that although everything between them was going well now didn’t necessarily mean it wouldn’t go to shit just as quickly. 

But in spite of it all, it was just so easy to fall back into an familiar rapor with her former best friend. It was a more than little unnerving how effortlessly Steve had fit back into her life and, even moreso, how badly she wanted him to stay there.

***

“So, yeah. We’re talking. That’s it.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“Steve’s in love with you.”

“Apparently.”

“You’re in love with Steve?”

“I…yeah. I guess am.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Shit, Alice.”

Alice couldn’t agree more; shit.

***

Alice’s mother dropped her off at Robin’s house a full two hours early, at the younger girl’s request. Well…it sounded more like a panicked demand over the phone than a polite request, but Alice was willing to overlook that tiny detail. Either way, she was grateful for an excuse after Claudia had offered to drive the girls to the party itself. As much as she loved and appreciated her mom, that simply wouldn’t do.

“No, seriously, it’s okay, Mom!” Alice attempted to dissuade her mother. “It’s only a ten minute walk from Robin’s. You don’t want to drive all the way back out here in just to drive us less than a mile up the road.”

Reluctantly, Claudia agreed that the girls could take care of themselves, and left Alice and her overnight bag at Robin’s. She waited until her daughter was safely inside before waving and backing out of the driveway. 

In the time it took for Alice to arrive, Robin’s bedroom had descended into absolute chaos. Ninety percent of the time they had before the party was spent digging through the chaos that was Robin’s wardrobe, piecing together the perfectly casual, but not too casual because “then what if Vickie thinks I’m a slob! Don’t give me that look, you’re just as much a mess as I am,” outfit.

The other ten percent was taken up by relentless, teasing back-and-forth from both girls. It had started off with Alice clearly having the upperhand; gently mocking her friend as she tried on article after article of clothing. Alice was quite enjoying herself. That is, until it came time to talk to Steve about the party.

 In the end, it had been Robin who had called to recruit Steve as a secondary wingman and a ride home. It was stupid. The phone had been in Alice’s hand, she had dialed his number. His new number. The one for his fancy, independent, adult apartment. The first ring in her ear sent her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding, resulting in the phone being flung into a bewildered Robin’s hands.

Cooly recovering from Alice’s sudden panic, Robin had managed to convince Steve to meet them at the party. Alice hovered over her shoulder, ears straining to hear the other side of the conversation and chewing her pinky nail down to the nub. 

What was wrong with her? Alice chastised herself. She’d spoken to Steve on the phone quite literally hundreds of times. At least thrice that week alone. 

Inviting him to a party, though, somehow felt too much like she was back in middle school asking Matthew Miller to the Snowball, only to spend the night sulking on the bleachers after being stood up.

So, in true middle school fashion, it only made sense that she make her friend ask Steve, instead. Not that she thought Steve would stand her up. Because it wasn’t like this was a date or anything. This was merely a group outing with a couple of pals.

She’d never hear the end of it from Robin. 

***

The party itself was a docile thing, despite being packed with a couple dozen band nerds. The music was decent and the drinks were surprisingly good for a questionable concoction thrown together by a teenager. 

Robin zeroed in on Vickie the second they stepped through the door. When the redhead greeted both girls with a hug, Alice was impressed by how quickly Robin recovered from the close contact. 

As the night went on, much to Alice’s delight, it seemed that Robin’s initial apprehensions about the party were proving to be completely unnecessary. And though she was having a good time and was always glad to spend time with Robin, it really seemed like Alice’s presence was barely needed. 

It may have been the effervescent lighting on the dance floor or maybe the faint buzz of alcohol in her system, but Alice could swear Robin practically radiating confidence as she danced with the girls she had been pining over for months. Ever the dutiful friend, Alice swayed to the music with them, overthinking about what the correct amount of respectable distance would be. Not so close to the couple that she was invading their bubble, but not too far away to be unable to participate in conversation or miss any distress signals from Robin. 

Luckily for her, after some subtle comments from Robin, followed by a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs, Alice finally took the hint and excused herself. She counted this as a victory in staying firmly in wingman territory. There would be no outdated chaperoning tonight. 

Not quite sure what to do with herself after leaving the one person in the house she actually felt comfortable spending time with, Alice wandered through the festivities, stopping to chit chat with old classmates every so often. She certainly wasn’t looking for Steve. Not really. Was she disappointed he wasn’t there yet? Maybe, but mostly Alice just felt overwhelmed without someone to anchor her. 

In the end she parked herself on a couch in the den, only returning to the party proper to replenish her drink. It was quieter in there, and much less crowded than the main living areas. There were a few people playing scrabble at a card table in the middle of the room as movie played softly in the corner, a couple boys sprawled out on a rug in front of the the television, watching intently. This was definitely more her speed tonight. 

Unfortunately, despite being a refuge from the chaos, this was also how Alice found herself three and a half drinks deep, getting her ear talked off by goddamn Matthew Miller. Yes, that Matthew Miller. She had cursed herself by thinking of him earlier. It seemed Matthew had conveniently forgotten his eighth grade indiscretions. Sadly for him, Alice was excellent at holding a grudge, even through the pleasant, fuzzy haze of drunkenness. 

“Anyway, you’d be surprised by the kind of stuff you could get away with in college. No one cares, Henderson, you could do whatever you want.” Matthew had his arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers lingering dangerously close to Alice’s shoulder. She clenched her plastic cup in her hand and stared straight ahead, willing someone, anyone, to save her from this conversation. Where the hell was Robin when she needed her? “And the girls, man. They’re nothing like high school chicks; everyone is just so open minded, y’know?”

“Mmhm.”

“Most of the them are just there looking for husbands, anyway, so it’s easier. That’s what Trevor says, anyway. You remember Trevor, right? He was french horn in high school, but we were roommates last semester, too. Anyway, it’s true though. These girls are just looking for someone to settle down and have babies with.”

Okay, that was quite enough of that. Alice threw the rest of her drink back, grimaced and finally turned toward Matthew with a withering scowl, preparing to lay into his insufferable, sexist ideas about women as a whole.

“First of all, you misogynistic prick, that’s—oh! ” Alice’s speech was slightly slurred, but not enough to hide the venom behind her words. Words that were all too suddenly cut off by the aforementioned prick making a bee-line for Alice’s lips, his eyes closed and mouth horrifyingly open. She threw herself backward into the arm of the couch at the last second, simultaneously pushing Matthew back into the cushions opposite her. “Oh, no thank you!”

The boy was clearly taken aback, or at the very least, not used to being turned down. “Are you sure? I thought we were having a moment!”

“What part of... of that ‘conversation’” Alice emphasized the word with some sloppy air quotes. “Made you think we were having a moment?! I might be drunk, but I’m not, like, random, regrettable hookup drunk, Trevor.”

“Matthew.” The boy corrected her with a glare. With practiced ease, he shifted his face into cool disinterest before plucking Alice’s empty cup from her hand. “I’m going to get us a refill. Maybe you’ll be a little nicer when I get back.”

Frowning deeply at his retreating back, Alice knew this was her chance to make a hasty departure. She just needed to get up. Which was easy, so easy. Or at least it would have been two drinks ago. The liquor had settled into her limbs, weighing her down like sandbags. It was fine, though. She just needed to flag down Robin to pull her out of the quicksand-like cushions that were sucking her deeper and deeper into the couch with every passing minute.

But where was Robin? Alice squinted her eyes, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd through the open doorway, but failed to spot either of the girls she’d been with earlier. This was also fine, surely someone had to know where they had disappeared off to. Triumph shot through Alice as she successfully caught the eye of a friendly face. She beaconed the familiar, fluffy-haired girl over.

“Kate. Kate listen, where is Robin?” 

“Hey Alice, you good?” Kate smiled down at her, amusement glinting in her eyes, before helpfully taking a quick look around the room. “I don’t really know, I’m sorry. I think she and Vickie were in the kitchen earlier, do you want me to go check?”

“You’re an angel, Kate, truly. A tumpeteer from the heavens.” The words tumbled from Alice’s mouth without filter. The lack of control should have mortified Alice, but she was well past the point of actually caring. Kate just chuckled, patted Alice on the head like a puppy, and made for the kitchen. 

No sooner did Alice’s ally disappear through one doorway, did her adversary emerge through another, a fresh plastic cup clutched in each hand. 

Shit. The time for games was over. Gathering every speck of willpower she possessed, Alice pushed herself up from the cavernous couch. Bad idea. Awful idea. She clutched the arm of the couch as the room moved around her, swaying and spinning like a carnival ride. Her stomach churned slightly. Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke.

A hand appeared on her arm, steadying her. Instinctively, she swatted it away. Unfortunately, the sudden movement tipped Alice off balance just enough to send her falling back into the accursed couch. She glared up at her assailant, ready to lay into Matthew about touching her without consent. Oh. Not Matthew, then.

Steve, her knight in shining polo, loomed over her with bemusement etched into his features. A flash of annoyance coursed through her; where had he been an hour ago, before her night had started to go downhill? However, the feeling was quickly overshadowed by dread when she caught Matthew’s garish, caution-sign yellow t-shirt from the corner of her eye.

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m late, but you’re not going to believe the breakthrough I’ve had with Gladys—“

“Sit down,” she whispered to Steve, cutting him off as Matthew drew ever closer. Without a second thought, Steve slid into the seat next to Alice, side-eyeing the approaching figure. Alice clutched his arm, pulling him close like a human shield, as if she could camouflage herself with Steve’s considerably larger stature. “Pretend you’re talking to me.”

“Pretend to—we were talking, Alice. Until you rudely interrupted me.” Alice laughed loudly, tossing her head in the direction of where Matthew awkwardly hovered nearby, his shins bumping on the corner of the crowded coffee table. Steve snuck a peek, taking in the boy fumbling with the red cups in his hands, and nodded to signify he understood the situation. 

“Ah, I see. Okay, what angle are we going with here? The usual?” 

“Nuh uh, our moms work together. Dead grandma isn’t going to work.”

“What about my dead grandma?”

“Maybe. Can you even pull that off?”

“You underestimate me, Henderson.” Alice bit back a smirk as Steve took the challenge to heart. Without any sort of preamble he turned and pressed his forehead into her shoulder. Sliding his hand into hers, he gripped her fingers tightly and put in his best effort into looking the part of a grief-stricken man.

Alice froze.

For the first time, Alice was thankful for the alcohol that dulled her senses. Her heart fluttered as she tried not to think about the way his breath felt on her neck as he buried his face into her shoulder. Or the way the hard plane of his torso pressed into her own, or how it nearly took her breath away. 

Alice took a second to compose herself. You’re a goddamn professional, she scolded herself. This was a tried and true act, one that she and Steve had played out at least half a dozen times before to get out many an awkward encounter, though it was usually her amping up the dramatics. The proximity meant nothing, and Alice had better remember that. After all, it wasn’t as if they’d never been that close before. Closer, she recalled, heat pooling in her stomach. 

It had just been so long. 

But she could think about that later. Instead of lingering on feeling the heat of his skin on her body, she focused on the performance at hand. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Matthew finally piped up after what felt like an eternity of fake-comforting Steve as he fake-cried into the light cardigan she’d thrown over her tank top earlier in the evening. Alice glowered at him incredulously as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down Steves back. He was good, maybe too good. A wicked thought crossed her mind. Lets see how well he could do with this one.

“Shh, his guinea pig just died.” She hissed. Steve stiffened a bit, thrown off by Alice’s plot twist. She bit the inside of her cheek, keeping cool. “Show a little respect, Miller.”

“Damn, Harrington, I’m sorry man. Here,” Matthew deposited both cups of god-knows-what concoction, on the table before them.  “Have a drink for…for—“

“Henrietta.” Alice supplied, helpfully. 

“For Henrietta.” Matthew nodded and clapped Steve on the shoulder before hurrying away as quickly as his feet could take him. Once he was safely out of sight, Alice couldn’t hold back the peals of laughter. Steve took the moment to collect himself, smoothing back his hair and wiping the non-existent tears from his face. 

“Guinea pig?” Steve spluttered, shaking his head in disbelief. 

She shrugged helplessly. “You were so convincing, though, Steve! Why didn’t you ever try out for the school plays? We never had enough boys, they would have eaten you up.”

“Just another one of my many unrealized talents. Come on, lets go find the lovebirds. They’re around here somewhere.” He chuckled, rising from his seat. Offering a hand to Alice, he pulled her up with minimal effort. She felt steady enough on her feet to follow him through the house, but not before swiping her drink from the coffee table. 

 ***

“And then! After giving me all this bullshit about how these college girls are all so eager to throw themselves at him, he decides its a perfect time to go for it. Mouth. Wide. Open.”

“Please, tell me you’re kidding.” Robin and Vickie sat shoulder-to-shoulder on one of the few lounge chairs scattered across the backyard, twin expressions of disgust etched across their faces. Alice was sprawled across the foot of a shared lounge chair herself. Steve had somehow managed to fold himself onto a tight ball of limbs on the other half, leaving plenty of room for Alice to gesticulate wildly as she recounted every gory detail of her run-in with Matthew.

“I swear he like, unhinged his jaw or something.” Alice cackled, shifting her body to lean more of her weight onto Steve’s bent legs. At this point, she was sure he was the only thing keeping her upright. To his credit, he merely shifted to accommodate her, untangling himself slightly so that he could sprawl his legs out on either side of her. Alice took the opportunity to claim space of her own, scooting back to nestle her shoulder against his chest, while keeping her body angled to carry on her conversation. 

Sober Alice would have never, not in a million years. But drunk Alice was an entirely different story. She reveled in the easy way Steve slipped an arm around her waist, hooking his thumb through the belt loop on her hip. The action didn’t go unnoticed to the girl across from her, either. Robin caught Alice’s eye and gave a wink. Alice tried, and failed, to hide a grin. 

“Anyway, then Steve finally showed up, but Henrietta died and he started crying, which we all know is the ultimate boy repellent, so s’all good now.” 

“Wait, who’s Henrietta?” Vickie piped up, looking concerned by the mention of someone dying. 

“Steve’s guinea pig.” Alice yawned behind her hand, before resting her head on her folded knees. “But don’t worry, I’m not even a hundred percent sure she even existed.”

“She definitely never existed, you nerd.” Steve’s chest rumbled as he spoke, chuckling softly. 

The conversation drifted to movies and Alice’s altered state-of-mind had a hard time keeping up with titles and actors. Despite her lack of ability to make a mental contribution, Alice was overjoyed to see Robin so open and totally herself around Vickie. If anyone deserved to be in a happy relationship, it was Robin. Alice knew she couldn’t come close to understanding the nuances of being in Robin’s shoes, but she certainly knew the sting of unrequited love. 

Though, she supposed, her’s wasn’t really unrequited, now was it? Did it still count as unrequited if the feelings had actually been requited all along, but the other party had chosen to be an ass about them for the better part of a year instead of talking about said feelings? Either way, Alice felt a strong kinship with Robin in the whole romance department. 

Head swimming, Alice decided that last drink had been a bad idea. To her credit, she’d only drank half of it before a moment of clarity had her switching to bottled water, but it was enough to push her just a bit too far over her usual limit. Enough to completely disregard any and all inhibitions, but also, as it turned out, enough to make her very, very sleepy. 

The fourth time Alice’s head slipped from it’s perch, Steve let out a heavy sigh, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tighter into himself. Alice gave up trying to keep herself up and settled fully against his chest, letting her eyes drift shut. 

Everything about this was against Alice’s better judgement, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of how right it felt. The buttons of his shirt digging into her cheek, how his breath ruffled her hair as he dipped his head to whisper in her ear.

“Maybe it’s time to get you home, huh?” Alice’s eyes snapped open and forced herself upright. Absolutely not; there was no way she was about to cut Robin’s night short because she got a little too drunk and couldn’t keep her eyes open. 

“Nope, can’t go home.” She mumbled sleepily, pulling the front of her cardigan to wrap around her body a bit tighter to ward off the chilly night air.

“…why not?”

“Two reasons Stephen,” Alice held up a lazy finger, ticking off the first. “Number one; look at Robin.”

Steve grumbled but did as he was told, fixing his gaze on Robin, who was now visibly uncomfortable with the sudden attention Alice brought to her.

“When was the last time you saw Robin have a good time at a party?”

“I have tons of fun at parties all the time, Alice!” Robin protested from her chair. 

“Exactly. I’m not going to make her leave a nice time just so she could lay in bed listening to me snore all night.”

“I can take Robin home later.” Vickie nervously interjected, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “If that’s what you want, I mean. No pressure, it’s just…I’m having a nice time too.”

Robin visibly lit up at the prospect of actual Alone Time with her long-term crush. She nodded enthusiastically, a blush creeping up her neck. Alice flashed her what she hoped was a subtle thumbs up, which in hindsight was maybe a bit too subtle even for its intended recipient. Embarrassed, she tucked her hand back into her sweater.

“Oh, perfect. That problem was solved…quickly. Anyway, third of—“

“Second?”

“Second of all…I can’t go home drunk. My mom will cry and it’ll lead Dustin down a…a dark path of drugs and alcohol. You guys know the kid, there very impressionable at that age.” 

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

“You don’t know that. I just…I don’t like them seeing me like this. So I can…I’ll sleep it off on this lawn chair, I guess. If you don’t mind scooting…” She leaned forward as far as she could, giving Steve a chance to get up. He swung his long legs over the side of the lounge and hesitated, a brief flash of inner conflict crossed his face as he considered something.

“Or…”

“Or?”

“Or I can take you back to my place and you can sober up there.”

Alice clapped a hand over her speeding heart, face heating to what was sure sure to be a low-grade fever. What was this kid playing at? 

“Mr. Harrington, I think we’ve established I’m not that kind of girl!” She managed to choke out after her pulse calmed. 

“Jesus Christ, Alice, not like that!” He spluttered, taking a few steps back as though to put some distance between himself and Alice. Robin dissolved into a fit of mad laughter, completely ignoring the icy glare Steve shot in her direction. He placed his hands on his hips, looking absolutely exasperated by both girls. “I just figured my couch would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than a hard plastic chair, but if that’s what you’d prefer then by all means—“

“No, no! That’s…that’s actually super nice of you, Steve.” Alice tried to recover, feeling a small pang of guilt through the alcohol. She had misunderstood, of course Steve was just trying to help. That’s just what they did; they took care of each other. 

“Listen, don’t feel obligated or anything, it was just a suggestion. I can just as easily let you sleep right here, or take you to Robin’s, or to back to your house to corrupt Dustin. Just wanted you to have options, is all.” Steve rambled as Alice leant over to fish her purse from underneath the lounge. Stumbling clumsily to her feet, she looped her arm around Steve’s to regain some balance.

“Do you have snacks?”

“Ok, I’ve changed my mind. You’re not allowed in my home.” 

“Can we stop somewhere to get snacks?”

“Will you behave yourself if I say yes?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

[starthecozy]

It's Carnaval, time to party and to let go! 🎭🎉 (comm info | inprnt | redbubble)

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking about steve in that first scene in nancys bedroom back in season one. thinking about how goofy and flirty and charming and playful he was being. thinking about him being like that with eddie, and how eddie would react to that version of steve. the whole talking in a silly voice, acting as that stuffed bear, the whole “bad steve :( don’t do that to miss nancy :( “ and “you are beautiful nancy wheeler”.

eddie plays dnd, even more so, he DMs dnd games, he stands up on tables in cafeterias and makes big theatrical scenes to rant about issues he has strong stances on — that man knows how to put on a show, and enjoys to watch one too. see: immediately accepting erica into hellfire as a replacement after seeing her go on one of her tangents, showing off her attitude and how she isn’t afraid to get in your face to get her way. he LOVESS that shit. lives for it. seeks it out. so when steve starts getting like that around him he would just crumble immediately i just know it.

[cockasinthebird]

Childhood best friends Steve and Billy sharing their very first kiss with one another because Steve is sO nervous about kissing and Billy is like "Yeah whatever it can't be that bad"

It's more cute than anything else, lips puckered tightly as they inch closer and closer till their lips touch, and Steve moves away with a

"You're right, that wasn't so bad!"

Meanwhile Billy is seeing stars and fireworks and cartoon birds are singing on his shoulder as he has hearts in his eyes

[hitlikehammers]

Steve Gets Everyone Out of the 🦇Upside Down🕸️ as the Gates Close except himself 🫠

or: can Steve Harrington learn to stop sacrificing himself/giving his boyfriend a fucking aneurysm? (ANSWER: no.)

Because again—obvious, no question—as Steve had watched them all get to their feet after climbing through the gate for the last time, actually—finally—the last fucking time, and his eyes had shifted to the impossible width of the closing-searing crevice that’d just taken off some of Nancy’s curls, it’d grown so razor-thin; as he’d made eye contact with Eddie while avoiding doing the same with Robin which was the best way to make sure they both knew what he was about to do, about to let happen; as Robin screamed and Nancy shouted and the kids started in at a pitch Eddie’d never heard before because no one could imagine a world without Steve Harrington, Jesus fuck, what the hell, even, how can the earth fucking turn without Steve Harrington—but in those moments: again. There was never any question. Eddie had read the truth of loss and apology, and then no-fucking-apology-at-all in Steve’s gaze because Steve Harrington would and was always going to give himself for the rest of them. Always. It’s who he is. It’s who Eddie loves. Even if it fucking kills him.

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4/Final Battle, established relationship, steve and his endless self-sacrificing, steve gets stuck in the upside down 🥺, eddie goes after his man come hell and/or high water ⚔️, idiot4idiot, true love, romance, softness, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day twenty: “For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss

It’s a no-brainer. Like: it’s just a fucking given.

This is literally the only way things could ever have shaken out.

Eddie’s breathless—like, the kind of breathless where his lungs feel close to collapsing, on fire and self-immolating, ready for collapse as the foundations burn through and he can’t get any air, his vision’s tunneling at the edges and getting fuzzy in the middle: he’s frantic and he’s running faster than he thought he was even capable of and he’s not sure how much longer his body’s going to be up for cooperating but it’s not gonna matter either way because this is how it shakes out, this was always how the story went and how ends if need be, because Eddie will kill himself over getting where he’s headed before he lets his body fail him in completing the task at hand:

The only thing that matters.

Because again—obvious, no question—as Steve had watched them all get to their feet after climbing through the gate for the last time, actually—finally—the last fucking time, and his eyes had shifted to the impossible width of the closing-searing crevice that’d just taken off some of Nancy’s curls, it’d grown so razor-thin; as he’d made eye contact with Eddie while avoiding doing the same with Robin which was the best way to make sure they both knew what he was about to do, about to let happen; as Robin screamed and Nancy shouted and the kids started in at a pitch Eddie’d never heard before because no one could imagine a world without Steve Harrington, Jesus fuck, what the hell, even, how can the earth fucking turn without Steve Harrington—but in those moments: again.

There was never any question.

Eddie had read the truth of loss and apology, and then no-fucking-apology-at-all in Steve’s gaze because Steve Harrington would and was always going to give himself for the rest of them. Always.

It’s who he is. It’s who Eddie loves.

Even if it fucking kills him.

The moment the gate had closed, though, and Steve was lost, out of sight, and Robin wailed as much as she screeched over what could be done, because something had to be able to be done—

The moment he couldn’t see Steve anymore, the moment his Stevie was gone: of course Eddie’s heart had fucking stopped.

But from there, the rest of his body took over as his brain maybe died a little without enough oxygen, without a real pulse, without a rhythm pumping any help its way, at least not with any meaning. Because where was no meaning, now that Steve was—

The rest of him knew that, though. Muscle memory: find Steve. Go to Steve. Be with Steve, in all things.

Always.

So when he got where he was going, and felt a violent lurch behind his ribs when he saw the glow still there—barely, but there—his heart didn’t start straight up again, not yet, but that lurch was enough: he knew it was barely a step from suicide, but there wasn’t any question in how he dropped down to the hard-packed ground that’s got worrying crevices in it, now, but nothing too deep—nothing like the tax extracted from their own world in the aftermath of tearing every last vestige of Henry to shreds small enough to grind into dust and burn anyway, just to be sure.

But that’s all peripheral—the world here could be caving in actively upon him, breaking ribs left and right as pieces tumbled and knocked him sideways: no fucking problem.

He knows where he needs to go—it’s farther than it would have been, but if it weren’t farther, then he wouldn’t be here anyway. If Eddie had been able to fit through the gaping apocalyptic maw in the ground he’d started at, electric crimson and terrifying as a rule, then he’d have been able to reach down and draw someone up through it the opposite way, too, and then they, he, Steve—

He runs, now. His body’s still mostly running the show but his heart’s been inspired back to fighting, maybe with the momentum of the fall, the swift landing and the immediate takeoff: he’s on his mission. He’s close. He can feel that he’s close, there’s a fluttery feeling under his ribs because it knows it’s close to things being put back to rights, its meaning and reason to keep pumping after everything, after fucking everything—the hands that didn’t just coax it back to rhythm the first time they ended up here together but demanded, slammed and pressed and broke ribs and left bruises and fought like hell: hands that tended him even at his lowest point, the darkest days, and embraced him when he could have done anything but, held on and hadn’t yet let go—

Eddie’s heart keeps pounding, relentlessly pushing forward, because like fucking hell he’s letting go.

Ever.

The wasteland looks familiar—impossibly given how it’s been distorted by the fight but Eddie knows it, Eddie feels it, the cracking of lightning and the bitter stench of ichor like ozone where it strikes and burns: his heart shivers.

He sees an outline silhouetted when a red bolt splits the sky. He can’t tell if it moves.

His pulse stutters—it will have come back online here for nothing if that outline of everything Eddie values in this world, in every world, doesn’t fucking move.

His body wrenches back the reins and everything in him burns as his feet shrink the distance—and fuck if he doesn’t collapse of his own volition when he gets to his destination, when then silhouette is before him—when it’s more than an outline in the dark.

It’s a body. He falls down upon a body.

He feels his heart kick hard, though, as he feels the warmth, and the breath—tickling his sweat-soaked hair and his blood-caked skin; lifting beneath his weight—and proof; it wasn’t a mistake to start beating again. It wasn’t for nothing.

Familiar hands slide to splay against Eddie’s back, familiar arms wrapping tight around him, and oh. Not for nothing. His pulse stutters again, but more for overwhelm than anything because this is…

Everything.

Because now he’s here. They’re both here.

Steve’s heart’s beating catty-corner to Eddie’s where he landed and is still clinging, overlapping at the base for how Eddie landed on top of Steve and blanketed over him: possessive, desperate.

Un-fucking-yielding.

And he relishes that for a few seconds as his body and brain, heart and hands and head all get realigned on the same page.

Then he dares—and it is a dare, a gamble, he’d watched Steve disappear with the closing of that gate and he will never have the words for how everything that had weight or mass or meaning in the universe didn’t just drop out in that moment, but fucking ceased to be—but he does dare to lift up enough to look, to see Steve wide-eyed and a little breathless; enough to frame Steve’s face and feel how it’s warm, the tease of his pulse near the jaw as real-real-real—and he looks, takes it in for a good stretch of time, until his brain and his heart both are convinced, and then?

Then he descends.

“You,” he kisses Steve’s lips, hard; “stupid,” he kisses Steve’s cheek, the warm pillow of it on the left; “perfect,” then the line of the bone cut glorious to the right; “reckless, self-sacrificing,” he presses lips to the tips of Steve’s brows on the back of both accusations; “moronic,” he kisses down Steve’s nose and can’t help the curve of his own mouth when Steve starts to chuckle, a little incredulous but so warm, so alive; “heroic,” Eddie kisses the bow above his top lip carefully before he draws back, looks at Steve seriously even as the laughter still in Steve’s expression is building like molten honey, a joy of some sort he’s never felt before, so tangled with relief as he frames Steve’s face again with not-wholly-steady palms as he declares:

“Level-18 barbarian, paladin, barbaradin,” he says the last like a eureka moment, like it’s a real word but also only applies to Steve and his impossible idiot heroics, of all the people in all the world.

He has to kiss him again, harder, straight on the lips until they’re both breathless enough for Eddie to have to gasp after he nips Steve’s bottom lip and hisses:

“Level fucking 20 asshole.”

Then he lets himself collapse back onto Steve’s heaving chest, and Eddie did that, Eddie threw Steve’s heartbeat into wild raucous: all of it real under his head because Steve is real.

Steve is real.

“I was, I was,” Eddie tries to explain, to say anything—only one thing comes out, and it’s honestly all that feels relevant:

“Steve.”

“I’m here,” Steve murmurs low, tightens arms around Eddie’s body, presses Eddie tighter to his own; “I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t.”

And it comes out broken because those moments had done that and more besides; Eddie tries to focus on Steve, to narrow his world down. Tries to hear the way his blood rushes like it’ll solve the world.

“If there was a way to come get me, I knew you’d find it,” Steve finally exhales and Eddie honest-to-fuck whimpers because the words themselves say more for what they don’t say at all:

If there wasn’t a way, then it went how it always needed to.

And that part is why Eddie’s still fucking shaking.

“Robin’s a mess,” Eddie finally shoots back—it’s a truth that’s underscored by the one in the flesh, here, and how so is Eddie.

“You left her?” Steve asks, as if he was maybe wondering if she was just slower in getting here.

“Of course I did,” Eddie almost scoffs because he loves Robin but…there was no other thought in his mind than getting to Steve. “She’s not gonna stop until they figure a way to get you out.”

In truth it was almost an insurance plan, to leave her screaming and panicked, for exactly that reason. He’s not particularly concerned about them getting rescued. If a way exists, Robin Buckley will find it.

And if it doesn’t, she’ll sure as shit strong arm everyone around her to make a way.

“Us out,” Steve pokes Eddie’s ribs; “the fuck were you thinking?”

Eddie knows what he means—his tone tells that much plain: what were you thinking coming back to this place? They’d been escaping for a reason and while the earthquaking seems to have subsided for now, it’s not like it’s safe, here.

But that wasn’t what Eddie’d been concerned with. What he’d been thinking, when his whole world fucking shattered. When his soul slipped through to the other side of forever, out of reach; what he’d been thinking—

“That I’m not your platonic soulmate,” Eddie answers, honest as he can; “and that when I slid my heart under your ribs the moment you made me feel like I could?”

He turns a little to kiss through the unzipped but filth-thickened layers of gear that Steve’s still wrapped in, right where he knows his heart beats, his heart—this heart is Eddie’s whole fucking heart.

“I meant for it to stay there,” he drops his head back down hard, close, tight; “I wasn’t leaving you down here alone, risking you.”

And if he closes his eyes and focuses and maybe stretches his imagination, he thinks he can hear the kick in Steve’s pulse that matches the catch in his breath.

“And I’m selfish, as you well know,” Steve scoffs, but it’s not untrue, especially not in this: “wouldn’t have made it another fucking second without my heart.”

He wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t. He nearly didn’t. He’s not sure how he got down here, physically speaking, save that there was no other option.

No. Other. Fucking. Choice.

“You’re insane,” Steve breathes close enough to shiver through Eddie’s hair.

“You love it,” Eddie nuzzles closer; “you love me.”

And he gets to feel Steve’s hard peck to the top of his head and the frustrated growl that draws an uptick to Eddie’s lips—it’s become a real obvious tell for not only Steve’s undying affection, but a wordless concession.

Nearly losing everything, so long as it’s only nearly, doesn’t erase the sense of satisfaction Eddie feels not just for the vindication, but all the more for the unwavering love.

“Goddamn it,” Steve huffs into his hair; “I don’tlove that you ran back down here when the whole fucking purpose of me staying down here was to hold the gate open long enough to get you out,” he tries to scold but stays buried in Eddie’s curls:

“Kinda shits on my whole big sacrifice moment a little.”

Eddie snorts at the played-up petulance, tries to reframe the thrust of it all in his mind from tragedy to…failed-comedic almost-tragedy.

“Deepest of apologies, my liege,” Eddie throws his voice into the one he uses for courtiers in campaigns; “know that the tales of your unmatched bravery and battle-hardy mettle will stand wholly unbesmirched in the legends, regardless.”

“By the antics of my idiot boyfriend?” The sheer height of Steve’s raised brow is fucking audible.

“By the lovesick need of your idiot romantic soulmate with a capital ‘R’.”

“Fuck you,” Steve knocks the bridge of his nose against the crown of Eddie’s head as he shakes his own back and forth because he can’t fucking argue. “Fuck you.”

“Not totally sure it’s sanitary, but,” Eddie lets a hand reach and stroke down Steve’s side; “you know I’m never opposed.”

Steve full on cackles for that, and it does feel…it does feel softer now. It feels…

Eddie feels like he can breathe again. For real.

“How did you even get back down here?” Steve asks, honest curiosity in him, but Eddie also can’t help but snort a little because it’s better than maybe sobbing, the whole thing’s absurd, he honestly can’t believe now that it worked, in his blind desperation he hadn’t entertained the prospect of failure because the only thoughts he could think were just Steve and need and no.

Mostly: Steve.

“Spatiotemporal anomaly,” Eddie croaks out what he’d heard Dustin babbling about while they’d trekked through down here earlier, about other gates, about what else needed attention after they made it back out—before all hell broke loose and they had to run because the Upside Down was where the earth was shaking, cracking this time.

Which was good, in theory—fucking place needed to die.

Just not with them in it.

Steve’s looking at him blank, blinking, before he smirks and deadpans with a quirked brow:

“Just because I think the one movie with the teddy bears is neat does not mean I have a single fucking clue what you just said.”

And Eddie huffs a laugh, something so normal, so real in this moment, in this hellscape that’s not hell for real because Steve, Steve is here, Steve is breathing and he’s teasing with Eddie like always, like normal, fuck.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I do either,” Eddie admits with a little wondering laugh, tries to form an answer around how heavy his pulse is just pumping Stevie, my Stevie, he’s okay, we’re okay on repeat. “I think because the Hawkins here is stuck how it was years ago, and then, one gate literally got jostled, spatially,” he’s guessing, he’s totally riffing but like—

“The trailer,” Steve says and, yeah, that was his thinking because once the government took possession of the trailer but failed to successfully quarantine anything if they were gonna stick to the ‘unprecedented earthquake’ story—

“The monument they put up,” Eddie nods, the one for Chrissy and Patrick and everyone who died in the quake later, too. “The flower garden around the base of it? You know how it all keeps dying?”

Eddie knew. Eddie walked past the memorial once a week at least, just…it felt important even if he didn’t always stop. And he’d banked on it, he’d ran to it hoping Dustin wasn’t spewing total bullshit and that Eddie understood the barest fraction of enough for it to slot into place.

“Oh shit,” Steve exhales low; “they put that memorial on top of a literal hellhole.”

And it should sting, but it can’t, not right now. Because it got him here, to Steve.

“Plus they kept putting new flowers in,” Eddie adds, kinda speculating out loud to distract from the lingering, in fact now-growing terror of the what-ifs where none of it worked and he didn’t get here; “so not only did the original gate in the trailer being moved fuck with being able to properly close it, I think the flowers also just kept, reopening the wound?”

Steve’s still in that way he gets when he’s mulling over the crazy shit they have to deal with; that Eddie hopes they never have to deal with again.

“Hence the state of,” and so Eddie lifts his hands—kinda with the intention of tying off the train of thought now that it’s unnecessary to dwell on, now that Eddie’s here; that they’re both in the same place and breathing the same air again like it always should be—but he lifts his hands, which are caked in dirt and cracked with dried blood from how he’d torn through anything in his goddamn way, and Steve startles, makes to sit up but Eddie doesn’t move and Steve doesn’t force him to, at least not yet.

“Fuck,” Steve half-gasps, gathering Eddie’s hands close to inspect them; “Eddie,” he shakes his head, mournful and incredulous and aching and full of so much care, at the very core of it all.

“There’s a first aid kit inside,” his eyes dart toward the house—the biggest gate that had been left at the time had been in the Harringtons’ pool, in the end. And if they stay in Hawkins after this?

Eddie’s gonna need to insist that they fill that fucker in. He knows he won’t be able to look at it and not just feel the void coming for him again as Steve’s eyes slipped from view—

No. No: he’s here now. He’s here and maybe it’s not the ideal setting, but it’s the ideal place. Always.

Because Steve’s hand is in his. Steve’s here next him: alive. Alive.

“Eds, come on,” Steve starts to sit up again; “we gotta get—”

“Gimme a minute.”

Eddie remains plastered to his chest. Doesn’t think he could move just yet if he tried.

He fucking needs the minute.

Steve—because he’s Steve—gives him what has to be that three times over at least, plays with his hair, wraps an arm tight again to keep him close, sensing the need of it.

“You okay?” he finally asks, rumbles more than speaks, something Eddie feels through his chest more than hears through the thick air.

“I’m more than okay,” Eddie says, and he’s honest with it: that’s not why he can’t move.

“I was scared,” understatement of the goddamn millennium; “even though I knew I was running to that gate and prying it fucking open with my bare hands, the second I lost sight of you,” and his pulse trips a little just saying it, reliving it by reiterating it in words:

“I was still so scared.”

Because what if it hadn’t worked. What if the thing he really hadn’t wholly understood wasn’t waiting under the soil for him to throw himself through to get here, to get to Steve? What if—

“So I just wanna,” he nuzzles Steve’s chest needy, and almost without thought beyond that need: “just a little longer.”

He feels Steve’s lips crush his already messy curls with a gentle kiss to the crown of his head as he breathes:

“Long as you need.”

And Eddie knows he means it. Relaxes, still, to hear it said for sure.

“They’ll figure it out,” Eddie eventually says; “even if it takes a little while.”

Steve sighs, and Eddie relishes the strength of it lifting him up, easing him down.

“That wasn’t the point.”

“I know,” because of course it wasn’t the point—Steve didn’t throw himself into the jaws of danger every goddamn chance he got for fun, he did it so others didn’t have to. He didn’t do it on the guarantee there was a way back from the brink.

That’s what drove Eddie fucking insane, really. Steve was too good, but the on top of that, much as he was learning how much he was worth all on his own, just for breathing, and all the bigger for doing that next to Eddie, now, in Eddie’s arms—the fact that it had grown to be just so Steve to step up first, no matter if he was starting to see that that wasn’t the thing that made him irreplaceable—it was going to give Eddie a goddamn heart attack if he kept at it like this.

Or else: leave him with a heartbreak that landed even worse, somehow more destructive, still.

“They know, too,” Eddie tacks on—the kids, the kinda adults like them, the real adults even—Robin, in her own special category: they know.

“They’re still gonna find you, and scream at you for doing it, even if it was necessary.” And Steve chuckles, a bright thing in the darkness here, under Eddie’s ear. “They love you too much for anything less.”

Steve sighs, and Eddie finds it all kinda bleeding out of him, now, the franticness. The unwavering terror.

“Not the only ones who love you past the point of any logic or sense, either,” he flips a little to prop his chin on Steve’s chest and bat his eyes as he makes unmistakable who loves Steve the farthest possible amount past any logic or sense because it’s not about logic or sense. What Eddie feels.

It’s honestly the most of both he could imagine. It basically the only real thing he thinks he knows, without question.

“But it’s not like we can’t make the best of being alone here while we wait,” he waggles his eyebrows and gets the laugh from Steve he was angling for.

Sweet goddamn music.

“Not like you don’t know where I keep all the lube,” Steve rolls his eyes as he eases Eddie to sit up with him. “Not as if I moved it around like fuckin’ hide and seek over the years.”

Which: point.

“But first we clean these,” Steve shakes Eddie from the wrists where he’s still holding on; “yeah?”

“You do drive a hard bargain, Mr. Harrington,” Eddie bites his lip as they get to their feet, and Steve doesn’t let go as they make for the house and…it feels okay. Like, maybe not everything is fixed yet, or solved, and they are currently a little bit stranded and stuff, but.

Steve’s here, taking him to clean his wounds. Steve’s here.

Of course it’s okay, now.

“Hey,” he gets shaken from his own head by Steve’s voice, and one broad grip straining to hold both of Eddie’s wrists as he points with the other hand:

“Look.”

And…huh.

“That’s new, yeah?”

It looks like a little cluster of sprouting things, but the biggest tell is that they’re green.

Bright fucking green, here. Like…life coming back. Like maybe there was another world inside this one, before Hawkins, 1983 was thrust upon it.

For some reason—or maybe no single reason, but more the fact of it on top of Steve’s touch on his skin—it makes Eddie smile.

“I have a feeling we’re gonna do just fine until they come up with a plan to get us,” Eddie whispers, and leans to capture Steve’s lips, and yeah.

S’gonna be just fine.

🦇🌱🌱🦇

✨also on ao3

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

divider credit here and here

[steddiehyperfixation]

holding out for a hero

@steddiebingo prompts: superhero au + fly | 1.8k words | rated T

Eddie doesn't believe in superheroes. He may live most of his life in fantasy, playing fantasy games and reading fantasy books, but contrary to popular belief, he does still know the difference between reality and fiction. And some superhuman wonderboy flying through the streets of small town Indiana sniffing out crimes to stop is definitely fiction, no matter what the local news stations have been saying lately. 

It's all just some angle, some sort of propaganda. “Something to make the ne’er-do-wells scared and the do-gooders feel safer,” as he'd put it in his lunchtime rant earlier this afternoon, stomping atop the high school cafeteria tables and laughing at everyone who jeered at him. He was being dramatic and theatrical, but the point still stands that these stories of a superhero in Hawkins are utter bullshit. Especially since the only evidence the news has been able to cough up on the contrary is a couple of fantastical eyewitness accounts and one singular blurry, grainy, heavily shadowed photo of a random guy jumping over a fence. 

Eddie believes in what he can see, and if there really is a superhero running around Hawkins, he’s fairly fucking certain he would’ve seen it by now. He commits crimes on the daily and no one’s ever stopped him. No masked vigilante has ever interrupted a drug deal. No wonderboy has ever busted him for petty theft. They're small crimes, sure, but it's not like there's too many others doing too much worse around here. To that end, no one’s ever saved him either, when a deal goes south or a bully gets physical, but that’s a weaker argument. Eddie knows he’s not the kind of person most people would care to save.

He certainly doesn't expect to be saved now as he finds himself at a meeting that’s quickly shaping up to be more of an ambush. It was already shady to start with, the details of the deal set up through anonymous notes left in his locker that led him here to wait outside of an abandoned building in the middle of the night, but then the guy marches up with three extra goons behind him, guns on their belts, and it’s only getting shadier. Eddie straightens up from the wall he’d been leaning on, every muscle in his body tensing warily. 

The guy in front gives him a derisive once over. “So you’re Al Munson’s kid, huh?” he sneers, and that’s when Eddie knows he’s really in trouble. 

“Shit.” Eddie raises his hands and starts backing away. “Man, whatever beef you got with Al, it’s got nothing to do with me, alright? I don’t want any trouble.” 

“Right…” The main thug’s lip curls up sarcastically as he advances. His goons advance with him, and as they step out of the shadows Eddie realizes that while two of the goons are respectably big and scary, the other one is just some fucking kid, no more than a few years younger than him. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure he’s passed him in the hallways at school before. That must’ve been who was leaving the notes. 

“Oh, eugh.” Eddie wrinkles his nose in distaste, his stupid mouth running off in reaction to his moral disgust before his brain has the sense to stop it, “Did you seriously rope your fucking kid into this shit? You know the more you get him involved the more it could just as easily end up being him in a situation like this instead of me.” 

He's answered, predictably, by Main Thug slamming a fist into his face. “Are you threatening my son?!”

“No!” Eddie yelps, cowering away as the pain blooms across his face from what is most likely going to become a black eye. “I’m just saying-”  

“Well, stop sayin’.” Main Thug swings again and Eddie tries to dodge out of the way, even throwing up his hands in an attempt to block, but the blow still lands and it stings like hell. His momentary disorientation from being punched again gives Main Thug even more of an advantage, which he uses to grab Eddie by the collar to keep him from moving. “Stop sayin’ and start listenin’. I’d hate to have to kill you before you can make up for what your daddy owes us.” 

“Okay!” Eddie raises his hands once more in surrender. “Okay. Take it easy.” 

Clearly, fighting his way out of this is not an option. These aren’t some high school bullies he can scare away with a single show of self defense and a well-timed weird face; these, with the exception of the random kid, are full grown men at least twice his size who are hellbent on achieving either Eddie’s death or his compliance, and they aren’t picky which. Surrounded and outnumbered, shutting up and staying still seems like his best bet for the moment. Although, he’s not too sure he wants to find out what exactly they want to make him do to pay off his douchebag dad’s debt either. 

He waits until Main Thug is satisfied enough with his surrender to let go of his shirt, and then, in a split-second impulse, Eddie turns and bolts. The half-second advantage of surprise allows him to slip through the circle of goons around him, but after that his luck dries up. His assailants recover too quickly, immediately swearing and chasing after him, and Eddie’s not fast enough to outrun them. He’s caught within moments, one of the big goons grabbing onto him and redirecting his momentum to throw him into a wall. 

“Ow, fuck!” Eddie’s shoulder slams into the wall first, then his back; and even his head gets a good thump against the brick too. The wind knocked out of him, all he can do is brace himself for another hit. But it never comes. 

Instead, the fucking Hero of Hawkins himself comes flying in out of nowhere to barrel down his attackers, very efficiently taking the heat off of Eddie as the thugs are now far more preoccupied with fighting off a goddamn superhero.

“What the fuck?” Eddie blinks the lingering blur of pain from his eyes, squinting to make sure he’s seeing things right. It’s dark and wonderboy’s wearing a mask, but Eddie would recognize that perfectly coiffed hair anywhere. “Steve Harrington?” 

Obviously caught off guard by being recognized, Wonderboy/Steve falters for one fatal second. His startled pause is tiny and brief, all things considered, but it gives the thugs just enough time to regain their footing and draw their weapons. 

“Shit.” Steve reacts in an instant. Within the blink of an eye, he dives towards Eddie, scoops him up bridal style, and launches into flight just before the first gunshot rings out. 

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, clinging onto Steve’s neck as they rocket into the sky. “Take me out to dinner first!” 

Steve, clearly, does not find this amusing. “We are literally being shot at,” he hisses. 

“Yeah, and that’s very scary, so I’m cracking jokes to cope,” Eddie retorts over the sound of his racing heartbeat and the wind in his ears. “Sue me, Harrington.” 

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that,” Steve lies, evasive gaze trained straight ahead as they stop flying up and start flying forward. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not-” 

“What, not Steve Harrington?” Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Suuuuure. You know, the mask is good and all, but if you really don’t want people to know who you are, you might want to consider wearing a hat or something too. You have very recognizable hair,” he informs him. “And moles,” he adds in an afterthought, continuing to study Steve’s face with the utmost attention. It’s a nice distraction, better than looking down or looking back. “And jawline…and eyes… So really you should probably just wear a whole paper bag over your head, actually,” Eddie decides. “But then I guess that would kill the whole dashing hero vibe you’ve got going, huh?” 

To his surprise, that's what succeeds in making Steve laugh. “Oh wow.” Steve finally looks at him, eyebrows raised in amusement. “You seem intimately familiar with this Harrington guy’s facial structure. Does he know how much you've been looking at him?” 

“What, no, I look a normal amount,” Eddie protests indignantly. “Those are all totally normal things to notice. Especially since they are, like I said, very recognizable features.” 

“Sure. Which is why no one else has ever accused me of having the same jawline as Steve Harrington.” 

“Are you seriously going to keep denying it?”

“I think you got hit just a little too hard tonight,” Steve says, simultaneously dismissing the validity of Eddie’s accusation and redirecting the conversation with such smooth and genuine concern Eddie almost misses the implied insult to his current mental capabilities. “Is your head okay?” 

Eddie chooses not to be offended in favor of responding with a smirk and quip, “I’ve yet to receive a bad review.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers more soberly. “Just a little bruised, nothing serious. I’ll live.” 

“Good.” 

After a minute, Steve’s flying slows and he starts making a gradual descent. Eddie finally risks a glance down, watching the entrance to Forest Hills Trailer Park rise up to meet them. Steve's taken him home. 

“Aw man, is the ride over?” 

“Yeah. Go home, take it easy, get some ice on those bruises,” Steve says as he lands gently and sets Eddie back on his feet. “I’m gonna go make sure those guys won’t mess with you again.” 

In the moment where his feet have just settled steadily on the ground but his arms are still around Steve’s neck, Eddie can’t help but press a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek before letting go and swaying out of his space. “Thanks.” 

“Uh- yeah.” Steve stutters for a barely noticeable second before he recovers, nodding in a sort of farewell salute as he starts backing up to leave. “Stay out of trouble.” 

“And pass up the chance to be your damsel in distress again?” Eddie grins. “I don’t think so.” 

Steve huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Then I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Munson.” 

With that, he turns and launches into the air. Eddie watches as he arcs gracefully through the sky and fades into the distance. He stands there staring after Steve even after he’s lost sight of him, the far away silhouette of him disappearing into the night. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, blinking and shaking himself out of this trance. It still hasn’t quite settled in yet that any of what happened tonight was actually real, but what has settled in is that he’s exhausted and his face hurts. Everything else he can process in the morning. 

He drags himself around and makes his way back to his trailer where he collapses onto his bed and passes out within minutes, sinking into dreams of flying.

[stardryad]

In which I drew Steve (worgen) and Eddie (night elf) as their characters in World of Warcraft 🤲 Inspired by @stevespookington's fic i couldn't see (you were always right beside me)!!

[stonathandreamer]

- Mike, talking about Chance and trying not to sound (too) jealous: I just said I don't think that he's good for you.

- Will: How do you know what's good for me?!

- Mike: THAT'S MY OPINION!!!

- Will: 😶

- Dustin: 😮

- Lucas: 😲

- El: 😯

- Max: 🏳️‍🌈🤨❓

- Mike, realizing he may have sounded a little jealous: ... U-uh... I mean... You... I... He... *error 404 - mike_wheeler.exe has stopped working*

- Steve, clueless as always: Yo, Wheeler's gay for your brother?

- Jonathan, who knows Mike's been crushing on Will since the Big Bang: Oh, Steve, sweetheart...

Stonathan ver. ⏩

[manwrre]

steve: you’re the most jealous man i know.

billy: you know other men?

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

new hs history teacher(/basketball coach ofc) steve who is being shown around the school by gym teacher chrissy.

she takes him around the building to show him where the teacher's lounge is, the cafeteria, what bathrooms to avoid at all costs, and to where her office is if he ever needs anything.

"If I'm not here, I'm probably in Robbie's class over in the language department."

"Robbie?"

"Robin, my partner. She officially teaches ASL, but she likes to join in on the others' lessons whenever she has downtime."

Finally, once they've covered the whole length of the school, she brings him to his room. "So this is you, and right next door is Eddie, our Criminalistics teacher." gesturing to the still-dark window of the door directly across from his in the alcove. 

There's polaroids covering nearly every inch of the outside of the door, pictures of what he can only assume are students with the same dark-haired man.

"Criminalistics?"

"It's a science elective," she explains, "It focuses on the basics of forensic science!"

"Wow that’s…really?"

She nods enthusiastically, "It’s super interesting,” she nods, moving to unlock the empty what-will-be history classroom. “Eddie’s here on even days, and in the music room on odd days for the guitar elective classes."

"Anything I should know about my wall neighbor?" he asks as she pushes the door open.

It looks like she's going to say no, but something flickers across her face and she winces minutely.

"Oh god, what is it?"

She looks at him sheepishly, "How do you feel about metal music?"

--

Since his tour in mid June, Steve's completely overhauled his classroom. 

The only room available to him was the one down here in the science hall, but he made do, plastering removable whiteboard contact paper to the tops of the lab tables and a little reminder at each spot for the students about his less-than-stellar hearing, to make sure they speak up when answering a question from the back of the room.

And ever since he got his room, he'd been waiting for the day he finally meets his neighbor.

He met Chrissy's Robbie the same day he had the tour, and they clicked instantly (No seriously, how did he ever function before Robin?). Chrissy had made the comment about them being platonic soulmates one night in August when they'd gone out for one too many drinks, and it's stuck ever since.

Speaking of: "What are you still doing here, dingus? It's almost five."

"Yeah, I know, I know," he says, waving her off.

Robin comes in from the hall and plops herself down on one of the table tops instead of helping him hang a map behind his desk. "You're still adding stuff to your walls?"

"Well, I haven't been here for a couple years already, Bobs," he grits out as he stretches up on his toes to hang the far corner of his map. Finally, the eyelet hooks over the many-times-painted-over hook embedded in the concrete wall. "So yes."

"Well you can finish up tomorrow, we," she emphasizes the word by dramatically waving the same sign with her hand between them, "Have a burger date to get to." 

--

The following day, the day before the school year officially starts, Steve arrives early to his classroom, only to find his neighbor's classroom lit up as well.

The be-polaroided door is propped open all the way, the sound of heavy drums and guitar streaming out the door along with the faint smell of moth balls and a spicy incense.

His own room forgotten, Steve steps through Mr. Munson's doorway.

Eddie is standing behind his desk at the front of the room, but hunched over it scribbling onto something.

When Steve's shoe squeaks against the tile floor, Eddie says "Hey, what do you think, identifying skeletal remains, or blood spatter first?" without looking up at him.

"Skeletons, of course." Eddie's head snaps up to look at him. His huge dark eyes are much more striking in person than in a photo. "Much more interesting, yeah?"

Eddie blinks at him. "You're not Chrissy."

"You're correct."

Eddie blinks again, "Who're you?"

"Oh, sorry, hi. I'm Steve. I'm your new neighbor." he gives the other man an awkward wave when he still doesn't move. "Sorry, should I--" he says, gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb.

"No!" Eddie interrupts, standing straight and hurrying out from around his desk. 

He extends a hand and jogs lightly up to Steve. His pen is still laced into his fingers, the end of it chewed flat. "Oh shit, sorry, sorry," he tucks the pen behind his ear, "I'm Eddie. Munson."

"I know," Steve smirks, taking Eddie's hand. "I've been waiting to meet you."

"Oh have you?" he smirks.

"Yeah, Chrissy told me you're her best friend and I wanted your advice on maybe asking her out."

Eddie's face hardens immediately, the warm milk chocolate of his eyes curing into a solid dark, the easy smirk morphing into a cringe as he looks Steve up and down.

He opens his mouth to say something particularly scathing, Steve's sure, but he cuts him off before he can. "I'm kidding, man, I know she's with Robin."

His expression softens just a bit.

"Plus, she's not really my type anyway, even if I were hers."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm more into brunettes." Steve winks, finally releasing Eddie's hand. "I still have a bit more to get done, but I'll check in with you later?"

"Oh--yeah, for sure, I'll be here." Eddie stammers out, his cheeks tinged pink.

Steve fist pumps in his head as he heads to his door, You still got it, Harrington.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May Mayhem Bingo event.

we went down swingin' (yes we did)

Prompt: Too Many Beds | Word Count: 7117 | Rating: E | CW: Spouse Swapping, Some Cuckolding Kink, A Little Dash of Dom/Sub Vibes | POV: Eddie, Steve, Gareth | Relationship(s): Steddie, Gareth/Di (OC) + the Swinging Pairings | Tags: Future Fic, Everybody Lived Nobody Died, Middle Aged, Road Retired Corroded Coffin, Lifelong Friends, Bored Empty Nesters, Swinging, Key Party

Also on ao3.

Eddie

Nancy is holding a fish bowl, and she shakes it at them with a grin when they walk in the front door. Eddie and Steve both dig into their pockets, and toss in their car keys in, as demanded. 

It was weird to arrive separately, and since everybody else did the exact same thing, the cul-de-sac is filled with more cars tonight than this party is indicative of, with every half of each couple in their own car. 

She walks away, and Eddie looks at Steve, "You sure about this?"

Steve runs his hand along Eddie's shoulders, squeezing, "It's just sex. But if you've changed your mind, we can slip away."

"She just took our keys!" Eddie hisses, and Steve digs into another pocket, pulling out his spare set. Eddie laughs. Steve is never unprepared. Eddie should have been ready for that.

"You wanna bail?" Steve asks, those big eyes giving him an out, because Eddie knows Steve would leave with him. They could just escape right back out the front door, and their friends wouldn't ever say a word. Probably wouldn't even be all that surprised. 

"Nah," Eddie says, he honestly does kind of want to see this crazy idea through. He thinks it's gonna be an adrenaline rush he hasn't had in years, an unknown. Something he hasn't felt since they retired from touring.

He's just nervous. Not about Steve, never about Steve, they're on solid ground. He just always gets nervous about a performance, and this feels like a performance. 

Eddie turns into Steve's chest, getting Steve to wrap his arms around him, hugging him tight. Kissing him. Like it's his last chance to do so, even though he knows that's not true.

"Do we just need to give Eddie Steve's keys and get it over with?" Goodie hollers from the other room, and Eddie smiles against Steve's mouth while raising his hand to flip Goodie off.

Everybody's laughing, and it makes him feel far more at ease. They're his friends. He just can't believe they all decided to actually do this. They've been talking about it for months, maybe a year.

What started as a group joke, has turned into reality tonight. 

They ate like everything was a normal group dinner night, like they just might play a board game after, when it most definitely is not. Eddie's knee is bouncing under the table. Steve rests his hand on it, settling him. 

"Want to run?" Steve whispers. Another out.

Eddie shakes his head no.  

Nancy stands at the end of the table and is shaking the mixed up keys. She has really spearheaded this whole night. "Okay. We're all friends here, if you decide you're not into it, for any reason, just tap out. Right?"

Everybody nods. 

"Okay, then. Robin goes first, right? Everybody else is still down for anything?" she asks, confirming one more time.

"Way to single me out," Robin says, acting like she's all offended. 

Eddie knows better. So, he can't resist fanning the flames. 

"Yeah!" Eddie chimes in, "That's rude, Nancy!" 

Nancy rolls her eyes, looking perturbed, "Sure. We'll just let her pull Steve's keys and see how fast she wants to be singled out." 

"Good point," Eddie quickly says, "proceed." 

And Nancy holds up the bowl, trying to keep it out of Robin's line of sight. She pulls a set and wiggles them. 

"Those are mine," Nancy says, and Eddie can see the blush creeping up Robin's neck. He wants to catcall them, but he restrains himself. He can be good. Sometimes. In theory.

When Nancy turns to add all the men's keys into the mix, Eddie leans over Steve and taps Robin on the thigh and she brushes his hand off. He grins. She's so embarrassed. He loves it.

Gareth is sitting back, relaxed, his arm stretched across the back of Di's chair. Eddie doesn't understand how he looks so calm. He figured Gareth would be a simmering ball of jealousy. But he looks chilled out in a way Eddie could only dream of feeling.

Maybe he's medicated.

Maybe he'll share.

"Vickie?" Nancy says, offering her the bowl next. Vickie pulls out a set of bare bones keys.

"Uh, mine," Jonathan says, and the room all kind of laughs.

"You're just straight up doing a partner swap," Eddie says, waving his finger back and forth, poking at them.

"Luck of the draw. Vickie, get your own keys out," Nancy orders, and Vickie shuffles through them until she has own pulled from the bowl. "If you're so smart, you can just go next," Nancy says, holding the bowl out to Eddie.

He swallows, and sort of glances in the bowl. She raises it higher.

He reaches in and fumbles around with them, feeling them out, like maybe he could identify Steve's car keys that way, and escape with his husband.

"Eddie!" Nancy snaps, and he grabs the closest set and pulls them out of the bowl. They're Jeff's. He knows it. Recognizes them.

Jeff laughs, as easy-going as he always is, "Oh, this should be interesting."

Steve laughs with Jeff, and Eddie elbows him. But he settles back in his chair. Jeff works. He knows Jeff. He can do this. No problem.

Then, Eddie watches as the rest of the keys are drawn and divvied out.

Seeing the mass exodus across the lawn is fucking weird. He feels like the neighbors must know what they've all agreed to do tonight. That, or they think a cult meeting has just adjourned. Eddie gets in his own car, and his instinct tells him to follow Steve. Of course, that's not what's happening tonight.

The caravan starts splitting off as they pull out of the cul-de-sac. Eddie watches as blinkers go on, and wrong, wrong, wrong pairs disappear together down different streets. 

Jeff turns on his blinker, and Eddie follows suit, turning when Jeff does, losing sight of Steve's car in the process.

Eddie squeezes the steering wheel. This is gonna be an interesting night, that's for damn sure.

Steve

"Tell me what you want, what you don't," Steve says, because he isn't going to feel around in the dark. He knows Di, and well, so there's no reason they can't talk this through together. 

Steve didn't have a preference on who he ended up with. That's a lie, he supposes, but only because he was concerned it'd be Nancy and then Eddie would read into things that aren't there, and haven't been there in over thirty years.

It's just sex.

"I want you to fuck me," she says, grinning at him. She's not shy, and knows what she wants. Steve appreciates that. There's no need to dance around what they're doing tonight.

"I can definitely do that," he says, grinning back at her.

He puts his hands in her hair, and presses his mouth to hers. It's weird. And it's weird that it's weird. He's kissed her platonically before. Hellos, goodbyes. But this is just different. The first thing he thinks is that he hasn't kissed a woman in years, decades. It's only been Eddie. 

The second: Gareth's gonna kill him.

Steve was surprised when she led him to their master bedroom. For some reason that never crossed his mind. Nobody is at their house tonight, so he supposes he doesn't have to think about it too hard. If this is what she's comfortable with, then he's good, too.

He sheds his jeans, letting them drop to the bedroom floor. He's already getting hard, and he cups himself through his underwear, speeding up the process. 

She's on her knees, watching, and when he finally tugs the waistband down, stripping totally, she scoots closer across the bed on her knees.

"Goddamn, I knew it," she says, wrapping her hand around his cock.

"You knew it?" he asks with a laugh. 

"Steve. You know we can all see the outline of your cock all the time, right? It's not a secret. We've all talked about it. For years."

"We?" he asks, gripping her shoulders. 

"Me, Chris, Barb. The wives."

He tilts his head back and laughs. Alright, then. 

"You could have just asked Nancy. Or Eddie."

"Where's the fun in that?" Di teases, and he grins at her. "Lucky Eddie. That's the consensus."

He laughs. Alright. He supposes he doesn't have anything to be embarrassed about, he's not totally unaware.

"Maybe don't say a word to Gareth. For both our sakes."

She giggles, letting go of his cock, taking his hand instead. Inviting him into her bed. He climbs in, and she pushes on his shoulder, getting him to lay back, then straddles him. She lifts her hips, palming him, giving him one more stroke as she's guiding him. 

And then he's in her. 

Sliding right in, she's so goddamn wet and ready. He lets out a long, low groan as he squeezes her hip, trying to regain some sense of control. It's been a long fucking time since he's been inside a woman. It's not better, just different. 

He'd forgotten how different. 

He's being hugged all the way down. All that wet, warm pressure down the entire length of his cock. He'd kind of forgotten.

"Oh, that's good," he says, and she starts setting her own rhythm. 

Riding him, hips working herself on his cock. Her hands in his hair, holding on. He knew, has always known, how much her and Gareth fuck. Has seen more than he's ever wanted to on the road, but he never expected he'd be the one inside her, on the receiving end. 

This is going better, easier, than he anticipated. He hopes everybody else is having the same experience.

Gareth

"You're not fucking me," Goodie says, and Gareth glares at him from his spot where he's slumped on the couch, arms crossed. 

"When did you hear me ask to?" Gareth snaps. If he's gonna be an asshole, Gareth will be one right back. 

Seriously, though? What's the plan? What are they gonna do? Stare at each other all night?

"So, what? We're just gonna sit here and stare at each other until the sun comes up?" Gareth asks. 

"Well, we could talk about how your wife is definitely getting fucked by Steve right now, if you want," Goodie offers like an asshole, but Gareth won't take the bait. 

"Well, when your wife comes home from getting fingerbanged by Chrissy she may never want to fuck your annoying ass again," Gareth snarks. He doesn't believe it, but Goodie started this childishness. He always drags Gareth down to his level. It's a given.

Goodie grumbles under his breath, but doesn't say anything.

This is rotten fucking luck. He gets paired up with Goodie, and Eddie gets paired with Jeff? And they've all spouse swapped in some way. It's like the universe is trying to blow up their band after they made it through the other side of moderate fame and the stress of touring unscathed, still friends. 

"We could go into my studio and play. See if we can write something. Be productive at least," Goodie suggests, and that's not a terrible idea. Not at all. Sure, songs don't start with the rhythm section, but they can jam a little, at the very least. Something might sound good and stick.

Eddie

Eddie can't stop laughing, and really, he's not sure that's what this night was supposed to bring forth. 

Jeff is just laying on the bed, taking it all in stride.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Eddie says, and Jeff just shakes his head.

"We don't have to do this," Jeff suggests, and Eddie knows it's to let him off the hook. He doesn't want off the hook, he just needs a minute to pull his shit together.

Maybe two. 

"No, no. I want to. I just need to get this out of my system," he says, and then bends over at the waist, laughing again.

Steve

He pushes her up against the sink, his hand gripping her slick hip. She just got out of the shower, but he's ready to go again. And she made it clear if he was ready, she was ready.

Nudging his cock along her hip, it slips along her wet skin.

"Yes," she says, and he pulls back, lining up, pushing back inside her. She moans, and he watches her grasp for the edge of the countertop, looking for something to hold onto. 

He reaches around a grabs a handful of her boob, thumbing at her nipple, "These fucking tits," he says. And they are so fucking good. He had no idea. Small, but don't look like any boobs he's seen on women her age. All he needs is a handful, and that's what he's got. 

"Harder," she demands, and he fucks her harder. Solid, punishing thrusts, his hips digging into her ass. Shoving her into the vanity with every stroke. 

She comes. She comes so fucking easy, he's learned. And isn't Gareth goddamn lucky. Squeezing his cock, spasming around him, and he just fights to hang on. 

Fucking her, one of her feet up off the floor, because she's so fucking short. He's got a great view of her back, and the tattoo she has for Gareth along her ribs. He's got one for Eddie on his chest. Both of them committed to this dog and pony show, and have been, since forever. When Corroded Coffin was making the circuit, city after city, tour after tour, bus after bus, plane after plane.

It was a hard life, but they all made it.

Steve slams his hips into her ass one more time, and comes with a long groan, catching her eyes in the mirror. She's smiling, and he smiles back.

He pulls out, and she turns, hoisting herself up onto the vanity. Pulling one leg up. He moves closer between her spread thighs, and she runs her fingers through his chest hair. 

He'd ask her if she's good, but he can tell that she is, and she reaches her arms up, getting him to bend down, so she can wrap them around his neck. 

So, he stays pressed against her until she plants her foot to his hip and pushes him back a step, and he's not sure why at first, until he looks down. She's leaking his come, right onto the marble, and she wanted him to see it.

Goddamn.

Gareth

It's a tasty fucking groove, even if he feels slightly off on this kit that isn't his own. Well, it is his. It's not like Goodie has other drummers over to play. It's just not his. It's a set bought for Goodie's small studio, not his regular kit at home, or his damn near dupe at Eddie's. Or even his old road backup kit that lives at Jeff's. The places he plays the most.

He doesn't spend a lot of time in Goodie's studio, none of them do, it's too small, and really just exists for Goodie to noodle around in alone. Recording ideas they might want to use later.

Goodie's clearly feeling it, and while they definitely don't write songs starting with the rhythm section, maybe Eddie and Jeff can work some magic with this. They don't tour, not anymore. A group decision he's never regretted. But they still put out music from time to time. When Eddie and Jeff aren't writing songs for other artists.

Playing like they are, it's almost easy to forget why they're here, just the two of them without Eddie and Jeff.

The final notes dying off, Gareth watches as Goodie unstraps his bass. Reaching for his drink up on the railing. The ice is melting, watering it down. It's warm in the little studio, and Gareth lifts his shirttail, wiping the sweat off his face.

They haven't played that hard just for fun in years. 

Standing, Gareth pushes his hair up and out of his eyes. He studies Goodie, changed out of the wife-approved clothes he wore to Nancy and Jonathan's earlier, now in his own ratty Corroded Coffin shirt that's seen a lot of shit over the years. Miles of road, decades spent together.

"You can fuck me if you want," Gareth blurts out without thinking first, chest still heaving. 

Goodie stills. Lowball glass pressed to his lips.

And Gareth hates that he said that. Hates that he ruined this good time they were having. Hates that Goodie's surely gonna—

—push him onto the ratty studio couch. Okay, that's not what he expected. 

Goodie reaches over, and puts down his glass, then crowds him. And Gareth lets him. This is what they were here to do tonight, even if Goodie acted like he had no interest. Goodie's all bluster. Gareth knows that. A hard shell you've got to chip away at, piece by piece, if you want to see the real deal inside.

"Have you ever?" Goodie asks, heel of his hand pressing down on Gareth's cock, already half-hard and trapped in his jeans.

"Gotten fucked?" Gareth clarifies.

Goodie nods. 

"Uh," Gareth says, weighing his options. Deciding how much he can handle Goodie knowing about him and his sex life. 

Goodie raises an eyebrow, waiting. Rubbing Gareth's cock a little harder. Like he's trying to work an answer out of him.

"Yeah," he says, "yeah. I have. Fuck."

Goodie pulls back, staring down at him.

"When did you get fucked? We were all attached at the hip as kids. I'd have known. You'd have made sure we all knew."

Gareth just looks at him. 

"Earth to Gare," he says, snapping his fingers.

Gareth takes a deep breath. He'll probably live to regret this. 

"Di has pegged me," he admits. 

Goodie's eyes get comically wide. 

"Shut up!" Gareth snaps, whacking him in the side.

Goodie laughs, rubbing at the spot Gareth hit him, "I didn't say anything! I knew she was freaky though. I just knew it. You've never deserved her." 

Gareth laughs. He doesn't disagree.

Eddie

Eddie grips Jeff's shoulder with his free hand. Laying face-to-face, jerking each other off. This he can do. Definitely.

Jeff's hand is firm, and Eddie looks at his face. Jeff grins, and Eddie can't help returning it. It feels really good. Different from Steve's hand. Guitar calluses that he's only used to feeling on his own fingers.

Eddie looks down between them, at their cocks being stroked, knuckles brushing. 

"Fuck," Eddie says, letting his head fall closer to Jeff's. Breathing against his lips.

And when Jeff kisses him, Eddie kisses him back. It's not even weird. Jeff's seen him in all manner of ways over the years, and this is just another one. He doesn't know why he was so in his own head.

Steve was right. Steve's always right. It's just sex.

Jeff's got a good rhythm going, a grip that is really working for Eddie. A firm grasp as he moves up and down. Then his thumb teases under the head of Eddie's cock, and that's it. He's gonna come. His whole body tenses, and he feels the rolling pleasure of his orgasm hitting him. Coming all over Jeff's hand and stomach. Cock twitching, heart hammering against his chest.

Fuck. He groans. That was good.

Eddie has slowed his own hand, not on purpose, but when he realizes, he pushes Jeff over onto his back, and slides down the bed, nudging his thighs apart.

He loves sucking cock, is good at it, and he wants to show off. Just a little. For his friend.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Jeff says as Eddie takes him deep right away, opening his throat, letting him slide in.

Eddie hums his contentment, and works him over real good. Cradling his balls, putting a little pressure on his taint, his whole bag of tricks.

Pulling back, allowing Jeff's cock to drag along his whole tongue, meeting Jeff's eyes as he does it. Eddie rubs the head of his cock along his bottom lip. Teasing him, before going deep again.

Jeff squeezes his shoulder, a warning, and Eddie just swallows around him. Feeling Jeff tense as he's coming down his throat.

Eddie eventually pulls back, giving the head one last lick that makes Jeff laugh.

Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning as he does it.

"You're quite the cocksucker," Jeff teases, and Eddie flops over onto his back, laughing. He really is. He's glad Jeff noticed. Flattery works on him. Always.

"Why, thank you, Jeffrey. I'm so glad you've acknowledged my area of expertise."

Gareth

Gareth's bent over the edge of the couch, and it's pretty fucking great. He's never been fucked by a real-life dude before, and Goodie is pounding into him. One hand resting on the small of his back, the other on his hip.

Gareth moans when he hits his prostate, head bowing toward the cushions. It's good. Warmer than getting pegged. Though, that has Di, and nothing will ever beat that.

But still. This is good. Really good.

"I'm gonna come," Goodie says, and Gareth reaches for his own cock, determined to get there, too. It's overstimulating in the best way.

"In you," Goodie pants, tapping Gareth's hip, "or out?"

"In," Gareth answers. It's Goodie. 

Goodie groans, slams his hips against Gareth's ass one more time, and comes with a long, loud moan.

Gareth's almost there, almost. He reaches his hand back, and finds Goodie's hip, "Stay in me, let me come," Gareth requests.

Goodie presses closer to Gareth's ass, keeping his softening cock snug inside Gareth. It feels so good, feeling full. He's always liked coming this way.

He strokes his own dick, forehead resting against the cushions.

When he comes his orgasm feels ripped from him. He tries not to make a mess all over the couch, but he feels too good to really think about anything else. He clenches down on Goodie's cock, and lets the last of the waves roll through him. Sighing as it slows to a stop.

"Can I pull out?" Goodie asks, thumb rubbing back and forth on the small of Gareth's back. 

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth answers, and when he does, Gareth feels empty. But really good, too.

He's glad he suggested it after all.

After they've gotten cleaned up, and he's wiped up his mess on the studio couch, he has a realization.

It's all on tape.

Audio only, thankfully. 

But still, there's proof of what they just did together.

Gareth just laughs. It's absurd. But they had fun. Which means hell must have frozen over. 

"We were still recording, weren't we?" Goodie asks, coming to the same conclusion Gareth had reached.

"Yeah. Be sure to cut that off the version we give Eddie." 

"No shit," Goodie says, but he's smiling. 

Eddie 

Eddie is resting the back of his head on Jeff's thigh, plucking at the guitar on his lap. Jeff's feet are up on the coffee table, and they've already written a song that Eddie kinda assumes they might be able to shop around. 

This isn't out of the ordinary. Not really. Whenever they're together this is usually what happens.

Maybe a little more touchy, but Eddie's handsy and always has been. Nobody would think twice if they saw them like this. It's only different because Eddie knows what they did earlier. 

"Do you have anything for the bridge?" Jeff asks, and Eddie keeps plucking his guitar, thinking. Not yet. But they'll come up with something. He knows they will. 

They always do. 

That's why they make the big bucks as a professional songwriting duo. If anything Eddie does could ever be considered professional, that is.

Steve

Steve is dressed, showered, and it's time to go. When he gets to the living room, she's on the couch, feet tucked under her, a cup of coffee resting on her knee. She's in a big fluffy robe. He leans down and kisses her on the cheek.

"See you for dinner?" Steve asks, because it's Sunday. And they always all get together on Sunday night for dinner. Just the four of them.

"Yep. I'm making pasta," she says, and it's business as usual. 

"I'll get stuff for a salad—" he says, but is interrupted by her phone ringing, making them both jump. Steve laughs. It's Gracie. And it's eight in the morning, so Steve waits.

Di's listening, and finally Steve asks, "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's good," Di says to Steve with a smile, then covers the receiver, "Sorority house drama."

Steve laughs, nodding. He can only imagine.

And then Di says into the receiver, "No, it's not Dad. It's Uncle Steve." 

She listens some more. 

"Gracie says hi."

"Hi, girlie!" Steve shouts. The girls are off at college, which seems impossible. But they are all empty nesters. That's how this whole idea started, he's pretty sure. Trying to recapture some wild youth they all experienced on the road, back when Corroded Coffin was touring hard. Before they retired from the road to let those who had decided to have kids, raise them. Now, those kids are all grown.

"No. Dad's on band business. Uncle Steve came and worked on the plumbing."

She says it with such deadpan boredom. Like he may have actually came over bright and early to snake the drain. He's sure Gracie would actually not even question that. Steve swats Di's arm, making her grin. She's evil, but he loves her. She's family.

If she's good, he can go. 

"You have fun with your little yappy lap dog when he gets home," he whispers, giving her a wink. He can't imagine how insufferable Gareth's gonna be. Not that expects Eddie to be any less high strung. He knows them both too well.

Di laughs, swatting his arm back in retaliation.

"Nothing, Uncle Steve's just being funny. He's leaving. Continue."

And he slips out the front door, walking down the driveway towards his car.

Eddie

He hears tapping. Somewhere. Faintly.

He pulls his headphones off, and glances around Jeff's studio. Chrissy is tapping on the glass, holding up his ringing phone, shaking it at him. 

It's Steve, she mouths.

Eddie hurries into the booth, snatching it from her, and she kicks him in the shin as he goes. He cackles as he runs back into the studio where they're paused for him, and swipes to accept.

"Are you ever coming home again, or have you left me for Jeff?" Steve asks, as soon as the call connects.

Eddie laughs, glancing at his watch. Shit. It's almost noon. 

"Yeah, sorry about that. Guess you'll just have to keep Di."

Gareth hops up from behind the kit, "The fuck if he will!!" 

Steve must have heard him, because he laughs in Eddie's ear. 

"Seriously, though. We wrote a song. It's good," Eddie explains. "And Gareth and Goodie wrote, too, and they somehow happen to fit together pretty damn nicely. It's like we were in sync from afar."

"Through your cocks," Steve teases. 

Eddie laughs. Yeah, maybe. 

"Can't wait to hear it," Steve adds.

"I'll be home in twenty minutes," Eddie says.

"So, you mean an hour," Steve banters back.

"Or two," Eddie teases. Steve knows him all too well.

Steve

Eddie flops on the bed, hair wet from his shower, and dripping onto his t-shirt, wetting his collar. It jostles Steve, who struggles to keep a hold of the book in his hand. He took a short nap, but he knew if he slept all day, he'd be fucked.

So, he's compromised by just lounging in bed, reading.

"Easy tiger," Steve says, but Eddie just presses his face into Steve's neck, sending cold droplets of water down his skin, and around the back of his neck.

Steve flinches, rolling his shoulder upwards, trying to combat the steady trickle that's escaping Eddie's hair to try and freeze him to death.

"Tell me everything," Eddie demands, and Steve lowers his book, resting it on his chest.

He looks at Eddie over the edge of his reading glasses, knowingly.

"What? Tell me!" Eddie demands, and Steve just grins. 

"Tell me about the new song."

"No! You won't distract me," Eddie argues. "Tell me the truth."

"You can't handle the truth!" Steve banters, and Eddie flops over onto his own pillow, laughing. 

Steve grins at him.

"It was good. It was just sex," Steve says, and Eddie turns his head, giving him a look. 

"It was just sex," Eddie repeats like he doesn't quite believe it.

"What? Was your roll in the hay with Jeff not just sex?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Mine was a comedy of errors. Jeff thought I was crazy."

"Jeff's always thought you were crazy, so nothing new there."

"I couldn't quit laughing," Eddie admits.

Steve grins, "Sounds about right."

Eddie scrubs his hands over his face, and makes a dramatic noise that Steve's all too familiar with. 

"You good?" Steve asks. 

Eddie looks at Steve as he pulls down his cheeks, stretching his lower eyelids downwards, like a weirdo. He's over fifty, but nothing ever changes. 

Steve puts his book on the end table, and rolls over, settling on top of Eddie, pressing his lips to Eddie's neck. 

"I'm good," Eddie answers. 

"You sure?" 

"Pretty sure."

"Want me to give you a — hard reset — just to make sure?" 

Eddie laughs, sliding his hands over Steve's shoulders, "You just want to get all the mileage you can out of your recreational boner pill. Which was cheating, by the way."

"It wasn't cheating!" 

"You don't have ED."

Steve laughs, he doesn't. No more than anyone else does at their age. He just wanted to make extra certain he could go all night, no matter what, no matter who. 

"Don't be jealous you didn't get to experience it. Di says hi by the way."

Eddie growls, and it's not menacing in the slightest.

"If you can't go again so soon, I get it," Steve taunts.

"Pants off, Harrington," Eddie demands, and well, Steve does what he says. 

Once stripped down and naked, Eddie straddles his thighs and squeezes. Then lifts his ass, like he's gonna slide right down on Steve's cock.

"Whoa, how about we don't try that," Steve laughs. They don't need an embarrassing trip to the emergency room.

Eddie doesn't listen, never does, and just grips Steve cock, guiding him as he sinks down. Easy, already loose. Of course he is. 

"I got ready in the shower. How do I compare?" 

Steve laughs, reaching up to push Eddie's wet hair out of his face, "You're crazy. You know there's nobody that compares to you."

"Good answer," Eddie says, working himself on Steve's cock. Steve's the one in him, but somehow he's just along for the ride, like always. Catering to Eddie's every whim. 

He wouldn't change a thing.

"Is your cock harder or has it just been a minute?" 

Steve laughs. Both. The answer is both. His dick is getting a little pharmaceutical boost, and it's been a while since Eddie's bottomed. Mainly because Steve just prefers to get fucked by him, but he gets that Eddie needs to plant his flag. Or, needs Steve to plant his, as it were. 

"Don't know what you're talking about," Steve lies, "it's always been this magnificent. All the women are saying so."

Eddie sighs, and wraps his arms around Steve's neck, "I don't care what the women are saying. It is. And you should only fuck me with it."

He sounds like he's teasing, but Steve knows him too well. If Eddie is one and done, Steve's one and done, too. 

That's more than okay with Steve, and he cups the side of Eddie's head, "Only you."

Gareth

"I already told you," she says, stirring the pot of sauce simmering on the stove, "we did it with the lights off. Under the sheets. He was a perfect gentleman."

Gareth tilts his head, "Diana Jones, I wasn't born yesterday."

She turns and grins, biting at her bottom lip, and he knows he's in trouble now. The next thing that comes out of her mouth may ruin him. He needs to hear it immediately. 

"He fucked me up against the bathroom sink. You wanna see the bruises on my hips?"

His cock throbs, hardening, trapped in his jeans. He palms at himself as she goes back to stirring.

Then she hits him with more. 

"I didn't change the sheets. You wanna smell him in our bed?"

And that's it. He can't be expected to just stand by idly. He grabs her around the waist, pulling her away from the stove as she squeals, tucking her feet up, letting him lift her off the ground. Then, he thinks better of it, pausing just long enough to reach over to turn off the burner on the stove. Putting the lid on the pot.

They might be a while. 

Only then does he jostle her in his arms, tossing her over his shoulder, swatting her on the ass. Hauling her towards their bedroom, like they're still kids. She's laughing, and he can't wait.

He puts her down on their bed, getting underdressed, and when he finally yanks down her underwear, she wasn't lying. There are faint bruises forming where her hip bones made contact with the marble sink. 

"I'll kill him," he says, sealing his mouth over one of the bruises, sucking. If she wants bruises, they'll be his. Not Steve's.

She whines, grabbing a fistful of his hair, letting him get it out of his system before guiding him downwards. He buries his face in her pussy, and breathes deep. Then, presses his tongue into her. There's nowhere else on earth he'd rather be than between her thighs.

"Do you still taste him?" she asks, and he pulls back just long enough to rub his stubble against her sensitive inner thigh. Eyes meeting hers.

She giggles, and he goes back to eating her out in earnest. But she just keeps talking. 

"He came inside me so many times, Gare. He fucks just like you think he would. Eddie's so lucky." 

She's taunting him, he knows what she's playing at. And maybe it's his fucking imagination, but he thinks he can taste him, but he'll mark his own territory soon enough. Right this wrong.

She's just gotta come first, and he's the expert on making that happen. Not Steve. Not anyone else. Just him. He's had years to perfect his craft. 

"Right there," she says, and he shoves two fingers inside her, tip of his tongue running circles over her clit, knowing that'll help nudge her over the edge.

It does. She has barely finished jerking from her orgasm, when she turns the tables, grabbing his shoulders. He lets her manhandle him, turning him onto his stomach. Then her hand is pressing the back of his head, forcing his face into the sheets, both of his hands in hers as she pulls them backwards, securing them behind him.

"Breathe deep," she says, "I got so wet for him. Before, after, feeling his come leaking out of me all over our sheets."

"Di," he says, but he presses his face into the soft cotton that does smell like sex, and not just their sex.

He grinds his hips into the bed. 

"If I let your hands go, are you gonna be good?" she asks, and he nods. He will. He leaves them clasped behind his back, right where she put them.

She nudges his knees apart.

"Feel it?" she asks, and then her slick fingers, wetted from her own pussy, are pressing against his asshole, "Did you get fucked without me, too?" 

He nods. He did. And she pushes her fingers into him, one then two. He's loose enough, but he still whines. This is the hottest, dirtiest thing they've ever done and they've done some raunchy shit together over the years.

"I wanted him to fuck my ass so bad," she says, "but he wouldn't fit."

Gareth's whole body tenses, his cock jumping, throbbing, trapped against the dirty sheets.

"He's that big, Gare. Maybe you'd like him to fuck you," she says, twisting her fingers inside him, finally making contact with that bundle of nerves that lights his whole body on fire. He wants to ask for the whole thing, the strap, all of it.

But he just lets her run the show. 

He isn't surprised when she lets him up, and shifts their positions until he's back over her.

Gareth knows what she wants, and he slides into her, as he imagines Steve doing the same thing. He wonders how he did it. What speed, what rhythm, as he starts hammering into her. Hard. Fast. 

Just like she likes it when she's this worked up.

She's moaning, thumb brushing her own nipple. He knocks her hand away and does it himself.

"I'm so fucking jealous," he says, and she covers his hand with her own, pressing his hand into her chest, right over her heart.

"Gare," she says, far softer now. "It was just sex."

He slows his pace, just grinding into her. Rolling his hips, just like she likes, pressing his pubic bone against her clit. 

"No, no, I know. And it was Steve. I trust Steve, like, if I could have handpicked anyone there? I'd have picked him. Because I'd have no doubt you'd be taken care of," he admits, and that's the fucking truth. He only trusts Eddie more, and he cannot imagine Eddie having sex with a woman, even if Gareth knows he has before. It's still a foreign concept.

Steve, though.

"Then why are you jealous?" she asks, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

He's not sure. But it's bubbling inside him.

"I didn't get to watch," he finally says, and she grabs at his side, squeezing his love handle as she comes, pulsing all around him, hugging his cock while involuntarily trying to push him out at the same time. 

He loves that feeling, has always loved it.

"You…you wanted to watch?" she asks on an exhale, a whine, as he keeps rocking into her. 

And, yeah. He thinks he would have enjoyed that quite a bit. Which is kind of a new revelation. He's definitely never thought of sharing her before the key party talks started. 

But now. At least pondering the idea of what happened last night. Yeah, maybe.

He nods, "My imagination can't possibly do it justice."

"If we ever decide to play again, you can watch," she promises. "Fuck, please. But right now? I just want you."

And that's all he wants, too.

Steve

"Hey, darlin'," Eddie says, taking the covered dish from Diana's hands when they walk into the kitchen. She was in charge of the main dish this week, and he's pretty excited. He's never had anything she's made that he hasn't liked.

And Eddie isn't destroying their kitchen with dirty dishes. So, win-win.

Gareth walks by Steve, and reaches out, tapping the back of his hand against Steve's dick. A little harder than necessary, Steve thinks.

"Ow," Steve giggles, cupping his junk, and Gareth laughs. 

"You fucked my wife," Gareth says, like that wasn't the whole idea. 

"You can fuck my husband if you want to," Steve suggests, teasing.

"No, he definitely cannot!" Eddie declares, and they all laugh. 

Gareth leans up in Steve's face, and smacks a kiss against Steve's lips, "I don't know what you did to my wife, you goddamn animal, but we fucked about it all afternoon. Thanks, man." 

Then he winks, and Steve shakes his head, laughing. 

"I could always give you a demo if you want. Teach you a thing or two," Steve says, taunting him. 

Gareth shakes his fist at Steve, and Di slides in front of Steve, getting between them. Steve wraps both arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head. 

It's nothing he hasn't done a million times before, but watching Gareth's blood pressure rise in real time is sorta fun. They're close, have always been close, all of them. Now, they're just a little bit closer in an unexpected way.

"Yeah, Gare. You want a demo?" she asks, teasing, but Steve feels like there's more to it the way color spreads across Gareth's cheeks. It's interesting. Gareth might actually like that.

He's a horny little freak, though, always has been, so Steve's not too surprised. Not really.

Gareth crowds in close, pressing up against Di, wrapping his arms around the both of them, squeezing, pressing his fingers into Steve's back, probably a little harder than he really needs to.

"Stop that, all of you. We're not having an orgy," Eddie says from where he's putting a salad together. It's their Sunday tradition. "We're having dinner. That's it."

They all laugh, and Steve feels relieved it's all so normal. Di takes a step away from him, and he lets her go. She sits at the table next to Gareth, and Steve walks over and wraps his arms around Eddie's middle, hugging him from behind, "No orgies. Got it. Who knew Eddie Munson would be the prude among us?"

Eddie spins, salad tongs in hand, putting them right in Steve's face, "You take that back! I'm a freak!"

Steve laughs, and holds up his hands in concession, "My bad. You're a freak."

"He's not a freak, he's an imposter," Gareth says.

Eddie growls at him, and it's far less scary than he thinks it is. But they all just humor him, like they always do.

Steve carries the salad to the table, and Di takes the lid off the pasta. It's all so normal, and they easily fall into regular conversation. Like they didn't do something new last night.

"We've got a good one," Eddie says, "the song. We're keeping it for us. It's a Corroded Coffin song. Could be a single. Hell, maybe we'll do an EP."

Gareth is nodding, "He's not wrong. Songs don't usually come together that quick."

"That's what she said," Eddie jokes.

"She definitely didn't," Steve banters, and Gareth kicks him under the table.

So, nothing's changed. That's good.

Eddie

Steve's bending over in the fridge, looking for pie he bought for dessert. Eddie bangs his groin into Steve's ass, sending him off balance, making him laugh. Eddie squats beside Steve, looking lower, finding it on the bottom shelf. He presents it to Steve on both hands, making him laugh.

Steve takes it from his hands, and places it on the counter to be cut, as Eddie starts a pot of coffee. Eddie can hear Gareth and Di talking in the living room, and he knows he was worried for nothing. 

It was only sex.

And what's a little sex between friends?

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the May Mayhem Bingo Event!

Notes: Title from Swingin' by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, which has nothing to do with a key party. (But everything to do with Di, lol.) However, Brief Encounters by Franz Ferdinand is much more likely about that, and it definitely got some listening time while writing this.

May Mayhem has been so much fun, writing borderline unhinged things I'd never probably considered before. 🤣

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XX: Second Chances Won't Leave You Alone

masterlist | playlist | pin | prev | read on ao3 | read bee's diary (more entries coming!)

songs for this chapter: parking lot by hunny, kissing in cars by pierce the veil, you’ve haunted me all my life by death cab for cutie (these r gonna spoil some things btw so listen to it after u read. or don’t. im not ur boss.) 

chapter tags: lots of dialogue (everyones a gd yapper!) as well as text convos, not a lot of action happening. well– nvm actually just read the chapter. FLUFF! finally!, angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, smoking, mentions of drinking, arguing. lmk if i missed anything!  | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED EXPLICIT. 18+ mdni.

a/n: everyone take a deep breath, you made it! love u mean it pls read this i am so proud of it!!!!! i have been looking at this chapter for too long so please take it and enjoy bc i will not be looking at it for a LONG TIME

taglist (open!) @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie @eddiesgirl1944 @longlivedelusion @aliensfeltmyjoy

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--

This cannot be happening. Since jogging your memory of the Halloween party, it has been the only thing on your mind for the last week and a half.

Why did I bite him? Why did I let him bite me? And why the fuck didn’t Robin stop me?!

You scroll through the messages exchanged between you, Robin, and Steve, investigating the photos they’ve sent like a police detective searching for clues. The first one seems to have been taken by Steve, depicting a very drunk Robin posing next to the animatronic clown she’d bought several years prior. The next one shows you, Robin, and Max posing as the characters you’re dressed as, and the one after is of you and Steve, with Robin’s middle finger sticking up behind Steve’s head. The last one, though, catches you by surprise. From the looks of it, you have no idea the picture is even being taken. You’re facing away from the camera, drink in your hand as you laugh about something, nose scrunched and eyes half closed, a wide and toothy smile plastered on your face. 

> who took that last one? i look so cute! bobbins: u cant yell at me. > why would i yell at u? stevie: Bc neither of us took that pic… > then who?? bobbins: …:) > oh no stevie: Yea… > im gonna kms i stg bobbins: nooo dont kys ur so sexy! stevie: U just said u looked cute!

You stare at your screen, examining the photo. Your eyes seem to shine in the dim light, dress hugging your form in such a satisfying, perfect way. You do look cute, but you also look really happy. 

“Fuck it, whatever.” You mumble to yourself, begrudgingly tapping the screen to change your  profile picture to the photo Eddie took. Not stopping there, you upload it to your feed with the caption: “wish i looked this magical all the time. happy halloween everyone! thx for the pic @thefreakmunson”

Not three seconds later, you receive the notification “@ thefreakmunson liked your post” directly followed by: @ thefreakmunson commented: lookin’ good enough 2 eat ; )  

You exhale through your nostrils, feeling your face warm as you tap the heart next to his comment. Your phone vibrates with a text from Robin, sent separately from the group chat.

bobbins: oh my god u posted it AND YOU TAGGED HIM??? bobbins: are u guys gonna fuck???!!!!! bobbins: pls say yes this is exhausting bobbins: and i could use the money >ROBIN! >NO! >SHUT UP!!! >just bc i like a photo he took does not mean we’re gonna fuck can u be normal for five seconds please bobbins: absolutely no i cannot wtf do u mean bobbins: theres somethin goin on between u two and imma figure it out MARK MY WORDS bobbins: also. that comment is insane. like u cant tell me he didnt mean it like that  bobbins: u guys are so gonna fuck!!!!! > ok u know what im blocking u for the rest of the day. 

You exit out of your messages and refresh your feed again, receiving another notification:

@ thefreakmunson tagged you in a post.

Clicking on the photo, you immediately feel your heart rate spike. It’s another photo taken at the party, though you can’t pinpoint exactly when in the night it was taken. Your elf ears are gone, so it must have been later, and your hair has been taken out of its elvish braids and draped over your shoulders. You have a can in your hand, and a joint between your fingers, cherry glowing, idle as it waits for you to take a hit. Your focus is not on the camera, but whoever’s behind it, entranced with a soft smile on your lips. 

The caption reads truly the fairest of them all and you have to read it three more times before it sinks in that you’re looking at Eddie— who has apparently taken not one, but multiple pictures of you— like you’re head over heels in love with him. And now there is indisputable evidence of that on his public page. For all twelve thousand of his followers and Corroded Coffin fans to see. So why aren’t you freaking out right now?

bobbins: HELLO?!?!? BE SO FUCKIN FR RN.  stevie: Wtf did I miss why is Eddie posting that pic of u like ur his gf stevie: R u his gf??? stevie: Bee I stg if ur his gf and u didnt tell us >SHUT UP STEVE!!! bobbins: u better get that checkbook out stevie > i am not his gf! > idk why he said that! i dont even remember it being taken! stevie: Well. I mean. Ur definitely in love w him thats the same thing > what the fuck no i am not stevie: We’re looking at the same picture right? bobbins: i hate to agree with dingus but… i mean look at the material.  > i am not in love w him i was DRUNK bobbins: what do they say about drunken actions again? > im gonna kill both of u bobbins: hey now dont do anything hasty! stevie: Does Eddie know ur in love w him? >IM NOT! IN LOVE! WTHI HIM!! >*WIGT >**WITH!!! FUCK bobbins laughed at your message “**WITH!!! FUCK” stevie: He HAS to know ur in love w him > oh my god bobbins: can i officiate the wedding?

You let out a loud, guttural groan, and receive the response of a knock on your bedroom door. 

“Come in.” You mumble.

Chris pushes your door open and leans against the doorframe. “You okay?”

You throw the comforter over your head. “No. Sick.” You know if you look at him, you’ll crack.

“Eddie turn you into a vampire or something?”

You uncover yourself again to look at your brother with wide eyes. “How do you know anything about that?”

“I don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins under the age of thirty that doesn’t know about that. What was that, by the way?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think your brother sounds irritated. “And the pictures?”

So, you react the only way you know how to. “It wasn’t anything, Chris. Why do you care?”

“You’re my little sister, Bee.”

“That didn’t matter when you were stealing the chief of police’s convertible.” It is far too early for this, but the words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Chris gathers his composure, looking up to the ceiling as a heavy sigh leaves his body. “Eddie is also my friend. I don’t wanna see him get hurt.”

“Right, I forgot. Eddie can’t get hurt. You’d rather go to jail for him and traumatize your flesh and blood than see Eddie fucking Munson be reprimanded for his stupid choices.”

Chris slams his open palm into the doorframe, startling you. “Would you stop? You don’t think I feel guilty enough already? I know, Bee. I was fuckin’ awful to you. I’m sorry. I can’t do anything about it now.”

You scoff, choking back a sob. “You could stop treating me that way, maybe. You’re the one that encouraged me to give Eddie another chance! I don’t get why you’re suddenly so pissed off about it.”

“I’m not! I’m happy for you both, seriously! I just. Ugh, I worry about you, Bee. I know how you are.”

They’re not the words you’d expected. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Chris meanders further into your room, his composure returning as he takes a seat on the end of your bed. You curl your feet into your body to make more room for him. 

“I don’t mean it as a dig. You have such a big heart, and you love everyone with the whole thing. I worry he’s not, y’know, receptive to that.” 

“I–” You don’t know what to say. “Chris, I’m not, like, proposing to him. We’re just catching up. Like platonic, completely aromantic friends.” It tastes weird, coming out of your mouth. 

“Bee.”

“Chris.”

“You know you can’t lie to me like you lie to yourself. Not forever.” He says it with a smirk on his face. “One of these days you’re gonna come to me breaking down because you accidentally told Eddie you love him, or something equally as ridiculous.” 

“Why does everyone think I’m in love with Eddie?” Seriously, where are they all getting this?

“You have always been so oblivious. He has loved you forever, Bee.”

“Yeah, and that’s why he abandoned me after you went away.” You cross your arms over your chest, thinking you’ve got him stumped.

“He left because he loves you. He left because he thought he’d ruined your life, and that you’d never forgive him. He thought, and he was probably right to a certain point, that you’d never be able to look at him the same way.”

“And you know this because you can read minds all of a sudden?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “No, wise ass. I know because Eddie is not a good liar. I flat out asked him what his intentions were with you.”

“When the fuck did you do that?” 

–

Three Days Ago (as told by Chris)

He walks into the bar for his shift on Saturday. He’d decided to be a nice big brother, relieving you of having to work the Saturday rush while older men stared at you like a piece of meat. Instead, he’d be stuck getting screamed at when he inevitably cut the creeps off after hitting on women far too young for them.

“Hey,” Eddie leans over the bar like he’s got a secret to tell. “Where’s your sister?”

“I took her shift, she’s home. Why?”

Eddie scratches his head as he talks, suddenly shy. “I uh, wanted to ask her something.” 

“Can I take a message for you?”

Eddie stares at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Nah, man. I’ll just text her tomorrow.” He turns to walk away, but Chris thinks better of it.

“Hey, Ed?”

“Yeah?’ He spins on his heel to face Chris again.

“What’s the plan here?”

He cocks his head to the side, confused. “Plan?”

“With Bee. What’s your, like, end game?”

“I don't–”

“Because to me,” Chris interrupts, “it seems like you wanna take her out. Wine and dine her, maybe get a little frisky? Am I on the right track here?”

“Whoa, dude, I never–”

“Look, man,” Chris throws the bar rag over his shoulder and leans across the counter, signaling Eddie to do the same. “I see the way you guys look at each other. She wouldn’t admit it to me if I begged, but I’m not stupid. That weirdo shit I saw you guys doing at the party–”

Eddie blushes bright red. “You saw that?”

“The whole town saw it, dumb ass. That solidified what I already knew.”

“Chris, I swear I have no ulterior motives with your sister.”

Chris leans back. “No, ‘course not. Just the pure intention of loving her forever and ever until you both get old and die in each other’s arms.” 

Eddie blinks rapidly, trying to recover from the verbal whiplash. “I can’t tell which side you’re on here, man.”

“I’m on yours. And Bee’s. Whatever you guys end up doing, if it’s what you want then I’m happy for you. I just have to ask you one favor.”

He hesitates. “What would that be?”

“You can’t break her heart again.”

“Yeah, because I totally plan on doing that.” He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning away. Guarded.

“Ed, you know what I mean. You can’t just disappear back to a fuckin’ bunker in the woods every time things get hard.”

Present Day

“What did he say?” You find yourself waiting with bated breath for Chris’s story to continue, and you inwardly cringe at your eagerness.

Chris is far more nonchalant, shrugging. “He promised me he wouldn’t. I don’t know what that means for you, though. If you haven’t noticed, he’s not the best decision maker when it comes to people’s feelings. He might think ‘not hurting’ means leaving you alone forever. Which, I hope, is not the case. I have a bet I need to win.”

You gasp in fake offense, kicking your brother in the leg. “Even my own flesh and blood is betting on my love life. I have a hard time believing this is such an interest of yours.”

“Are you kidding? This would make up for everything! If you and Eddie get together I have paid my debt to you with interest!”

“I can’t even begin to respond to that. Get out of my room. Now.” 

Chris puts his hands up in surrender and stands from your bed. “Alright, alright. I’m done teasing. Just, give it some thought, okay? Real reflection. Let me know when you come around to the reality the rest of us are living in.” And he shrugs like he’s just dropped a massive truth bomb so big you can’t even comprehend it. 

“Get. Out.”

And he closes the door behind him. Not knowing what else to do, you snatch your phone from your bedside table. 

> can i come over?  eddie (block later): weeeird. i was gonna ask u that eddie (block later): need a ride? eddie: let me pick u up  > kk, i’ll be here eddie: see u in ten eddie: : )

–

You wait for him on the curb, an attempt to avoid seeing Chris’s smug face when Eddie picks you up. You hear the van before you see it, practically screeching as it chugs down your street, music blaring from its ancient speakers, smoke pouring out from the windows. At first, no words are exchanged, the drive back to Eddie’s apartment spent in comfortable quiet as his music hummed in the speakers. He’d turned down the radio upon you getting into the van, but neither of you have been able to say the first hello. 

He seems to sense it, too. “So, um… how’s your day goin’?” His eyes are glued to his windshield.

“It’s goin’.” You nod awkwardly, and he hums in response. “Chris gave me a lecture this morning.” You offer the subject cautiously.

“Oh yeah? What about?” 

You’re not sure you should divulge that, suddenly. “Oh, um… you, I guess.” No response. You hesitate, but he turns his head slightly to look at you in his peripheral vision, anticipating your next words. “He told me he talked to you after the party.” 

“Oh, yeah. I’d call it more of a lecture than a conversation though..” 

You frown at his tone. “How come?”

“Because he didn’t let me explain. I could have given him a million different scenarios, and he’d still tell me I’m not…” He trails off.

“Not what, Ed?”

He doesn’t answer, cutting sharply into the parking lot of his building, throwing the ancient vehicle into park. He cuts the engine, the music stopping abruptly as Eddie, who’d already been unbuckled, turns his body to face you. “That I’m not good enough for you, Bee. That I don’t deserve you, your friendship, whatever. And I can’t even say he’s wrong.” 

You frown at him.“What about me asking to see you tells you that I want you to stay away from me, Ed?” 

“I– uh,” You’ve seemed to have rendered him speechless, temporarily. 

“Sure, being friends with you… it’s torture. Every time I look at you, it feels like grieving all over again.” You take on a lighter, more playful cadence that Eddie somehow seems to miss.

“Oh. Christ, ouch.” The way he says it sounds like a heart cracking. He doesn’t ask you to explain, the look on his face tells you he’s already convinced himself of what you’re saying, before you’re allowed to elaborate. “Look, at least let me plead my case before you curse my name forever. I know I didn’t do the right thing. We’ve been over all of this. What you don’t know, though, is what I was doing, when we stopped being friends. You wanna know what I was doing?”

You gulp. You kind of do really want to know, so you nod. 

“Moping. Weeping. It was months before I could fall asleep before four a.m. I was fuckin’ pathetic.” He’s barely able to look you in the eye as he continues, the words tumbling out of his mouth without even pausing to breathe. He leaves no room for you to interject to correct his assumption, so you watch as he falls apart, helpless. “Wayne sent me to see Hopper. He’s got like this bunker thing in the forest out in Vermont, told me he’d help me get my shit together. And he did, I can tell you all about that later. Wait, shit. No, I can’t. Not if you’re— hold on, sorry. I’m nervous.” He scratches his head, gathering his scattered thoughts. “Anyway. I didn’t move on, but I… I coped. I was numb, honestly. I bounced around out there for a bit, met some really cool people, worked at a bookstore. Figured I’d make a life for myself out there, y’know?”

“Sounds like you had it pretty good.” You’re antagonizing him now, bitterness seeping into your tone. 

“Sure, from an outsider’s perspective. I never let myself fully heal, though. I couldn’t make myself reach out. I wanted to, and I know that’s a terrible excuse, but it’s the truth. But I didn’t think you’d wanna hear from me. I thought about it every single day, though. Stalked your pages, typed out messages I could never make myself send. Figured I’d dug my own grave and had to get over it.” You almost break, the way he looks at you, wounded. Guilt ridden. “And I wanna make it clear, I’m not asking for you to forgive any of it. You have every right to stay mad at me, for however long you need to be. Even if that means forever. I just have to say my piece before I lose the chance. I don’t wanna run away again.” 

“Keep talking.” Your voice gets caught in your throat as you speak, playful demeanor cracking pathetically quick. You let yourself look at him without flinching. The freckles on his face, though barely visible if you’re not looking for them, are more prominent to you now as the sun shines through the windshield. You can practically see every pore, every wisp of hair on his face.

“I’m sorry.” His voice barely reaches your ears. “I am so fucking sorry. I know you’re tired of hearing it, but, y’know, I’d change every goddamn thing leading up to that day if I could. No question. I don’t know how I can even begin to prove that to you. I know nothing I say will be enough to forgive me, but I don’t think I can go back to never speaking to you.”

 You look at him, and this time it feels like exhaling. It’s taken this long to dawn on you that Eddie is here, let alone that he feels this remorseful. You had made him out to be careless– even mean– when he’d been wracked with guilt to the point of running away. There is no doubt in your mind that he means every word, that he really would do anything to make it up to you.

“You know… you didn’t let me finish.” You finally respond, your tone steady now. He only blinks at you, the chatterbox somehow at a loss for words, eyes shining with the tears he hasn’t let fall. “It’s not that I don’t want to be your friend. I just… I can’t. I keep telling myself I can, and every time I look at you it feels like I’m grieving all over again, mourning the loss of everything we could have possibly had.” You’re leaning in, over the console as you speak, distracting yourself from the line you’re about to cross, before you’re even sure it’s the right move.“You can stop me. I might be wrong, but I’m about to do something really scary and I don’t know how you’re gonna react.” You wait for him to answer, and he nods, still not a word leaving his lips. You close the gap, squeezing your eyes shut like you’re bracing for impact. He catches your mouth with his, and you hear him breathe out like he’d been holding it the whole car ride. 

He lets you lead, mouth moving only as a response to your own, and you test the waters by nipping at his bottom lip. Without hesitating, Eddie parts his lips and you slip your tongue past them, earning a strangled groan that you swallow with a newfound pride as his tongue slides against yours. Eagerly, your hands fly to his neck and tangle in his curls, knotted by the prior winds from the open windows. His own hands move slowly to caress your face as if you’re made of glass, like you’re something precious he’s afraid to break, and it makes your head fuzzy. You break the contact only to catch your breath, and Eddie’s lips chase after yours like he needs them to keep breathing. 

“Not yet,” He mumbles between kisses, “Please. Few more.” You can’t help but giggle, immediately embarrassed by the way your stomach is flipping, but he just keeps his lips on yours. You let him take over, and he wastes no time adjusting your position, pulling you impossibly closer to him, over the center console so that you’re practically in his lap. Despite the quickness of his movements, Eddie kisses you impossibly slow. Time seems to stop, and all you can focus on is the way it feels: like a missing piece falling into place, a blurry picture into focus. He’s infiltrated your senses, your thoughts, removing any semblance of the world outside his van. 

“Should we go inside?” Your words are rushed, refusing to detach from him for too long. 

“Maybe,” kiss. “Only if we can keep doing this though.” Kiss, kiss. 

You snort a laugh. “That works for me.” Eddie moves from your lips then, to your jaw and down the column of your throat, and you are suddenly far too aware of how hard you’re breathing. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He’s talking under his breath, barely reaching your ears, but you are still too taken by surprise to respond. You can only giggle again as his nose and lips tickle your skin. 

“You can do it again, if you want.”

“Do what?”

“Bite me.”

He doesn’t need to think. Eddie sucks your skin between his teeth, and you can feel the sharp pinch of his bite, soothed by his tongue before he repeats the process until you’re practically writhing in his grip, losing your breath each time he moves to a new spot.

–

You barely make it into Eddie’s apartment before you’re shoving him against the wall of the entryway, simultaneously kicking your shoes off as you crane your neck to keep your lips attached to his skin. 

“Christ, doll. Breathe, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

You only hum in response, trailing soft kisses down his neck, hands sliding over the soft fabric of his worn out t-shirt. You have no idea where the confidence came from, where you finally grew the guts to kiss him, and keep kissing him. Sure, you’d always had a level of feelings for Eddie you couldn’t quite describe, and everyone else constantly teased you for it, but finally letting that part of you see the light of day has been invigorating so far. 

“Can’t be so sure.” You eventually mumble a response between planting kisses at the point where his jaw meets his ear, and Eddie shudders. 

“Hey,” He pulls back then, face lost of any blush from before. “I’m serious. I’m right here. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Not even the Playboy mansion?” You tease, suddenly bashful as you poke his shoulder, not meeting his eyes. 

Eddie cups his hand under your shin, bringing your head up to look at him. “First of all, gross. Secondly, not even the Playboy mansion. Not even on stage with Metallica.” “Whoa, hold on, let’s not get crazy.” You’re not good with this much attention, especially from him. It’s like you weren’t just all over him mere seconds ago. 

“Bee, I know it’s gonna take you a lot of time to trust me, but I’ll keep tellin’ you ‘til I’m blue in the face. I’m gonna prove it to you.” This time, he closes the gap between you, sealing his promise with a soft, slow kiss, and your eyes flutter closed. 

–

Eventually, you do have to stop kissing him, much to your dismay. You don’t want to, and from the way he pouted when you’d mentioned taking a break, Eddie doesn't either. “You wanna smoke?”

His eyes light up at the offer. “You’re asking me to smoke with you?”

“Eddie, you just had your tongue down my throat. I think we’re past the point of this being a surprise.”

“Mmm, no. I don’t think so. This is still the highest honor. C’mon, you,” Eddie turns his attention to the cat, who is definitely less than pleased to be disturbed. “We can smoke on the balcony, it’s nice out.” He plucks a lighter from his coffee table, and you pull a joint from its tube in your bag.

“You roll that?”

“No, I had Robin help me out. You know, being in a state where weed isn’t legal is making my life really difficult. In New York they have dispensaries fuckin’ everywhere.”

Eddie tsks at you. “You know those places are putting me out of business, right?”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll be fine if you plan on staying somewhere like Hawkins, don’t worry. Plenty of rich kids to overcharge for your product.” You nudge him, snatching the lighter from his fingers and opening the sliding door to his small balcony. It’s cozy, a bug net draped along the railing, a small table with an ashtray and lantern in the middle, with cozy patio chairs on either side. 

“So,” Eddie brings the lighter to the end of the joint, lighting it for you. You inhale, eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of your lungs filling with smoke. “Why now?”

“Hm?”

“You kissed me. We kissed. I’m not, like, complaining. Far from it. I just wanna know what changed.”

“That’s the thing,” You pluck the joint from your lips and exhale, handing it off. “I don’t really know if anything changed. Not explicitly, anyway. I just… wanted to.” 

He seems to shy away from your words, a small smile on his lips as his eyes dart to the ground. Eddie is not a bashful person, anyone could vouch for that. He’s loud, obnoxious, and extremely talkative. He says what he thinks, usually without filtering his words through the part of his brain that stops him from saying stupid shit. What he’s doing now is foreign to you, but it somehow boosts your own confidence.

Eddie takes a pull from the joint as you continue. “I know our relationship isn’t the simplest thing in the world. I also know that, when we stopped talking, it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. We were kids, and everything felt like the end of the world, but I had never lost someone like that before. I don’t ever wanna go through that again.” 

“What does that mean for us, then?”

It’s a good question, and you’re not sure you have a good enough answer for him. “I’m not sure. I know you’re important to me, and I know how I feel when I’m with you. I just… I don’t wanna make a promise I can’t keep.”

He nods, handing the joint back to you. “I get it. No rush, by the way. Like I said, I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Well, what do you want this to be?” You take a drag, looking out at the distant horizon of your small town. It all feels so far away, like the world around you is on mute. 

“I just want you in my life. However you want, whatever that may mean. My feelings for you have been out there forever, but I don’t want you to think they have to be reciprocated. It’s okay if they’re not.”

“Your feelings for me?”

He nods, watching intently as you ash the joint, not meeting your eyes. “I mean, c’mon. All of our friends, your brother, even Wayne knows. I’ve never been known for my subtlety.” He chuckles softly, and you look at him. “I’ve had a thing for you since we were kids, Bee. I thought you knew that?” Deep down, you’re sure you’d known. That doesn’t make hearing it from him isn’t jarring. “It’s always been you. Everything else was a waste of time, a distraction from the pain I’d caused us both.”

“Even Chrissy?” You challenge, smirking.

He nods, though, face free of any humor. “Especially Chrissy. I’m pretty sure she knew it, too.”

You roll your eyes. “Such a heartbreaker.”

“I know. I don’t condone who I was then, but I was trying to get over you. All that progress is out the window now though.”

You give him a toothy grin as you hand the smoke back to him. “If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure I had those feelings, too.”

“Had? Past tense?”

“Yeah, totally past tense, proven by the way I was sucking on your face half an hour ago.” You roll your eyes at him, and he laughs loudly, making your stomach flip again. “Just, give me some time. Let’s maybe not tell anyone about this yet?” It’s not that you’re ashamed, or that you want to keep this from your friends. You just don’t know what this is, and you kind of want to keep Eddie all to yourself for now.

“Aye, aye. On one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I get to keep kissing you.” He turns redder than you’d thought possible. “If you’re cool with that.”

“I think I can live with that condition.” You lean over the arm of the chair, and he quickly snubs the joint in the ashtray before meeting you in the middle, his lips already molding perfectly against yours, like they’d been made for each other. You can feel the way his lips curl into a smile as you deepen the kiss, already unwilling to let him go again. 

“I gotta pace myself.” He breaks the kiss eventually to speak, and you pout at him. “I’m gonna get greedy.”

There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, and you try not to squirm under his gaze. “Would it be helpful or harmful to inform you that I want you to keep going?”

“Fuck. C’mere.” His words slur together as he offers his hand out to you. When you grab it, he pulls you from your own chair, onto his lap and buries his head in your neck, breathing deeply. “You’re so soft. Y’smell so good, too. Can’t believe you’re lettin’ any of this slide.” As if on autopilot, Eddie returns to marking up your neck. You let him, sighing into his touch as you try to focus on the way his hands grip your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

“Makes two of us,” Your dig is without malice, because it’s the least surprising thing, if you were to ask anyone you and Eddie had grown up with. “Can’t believe it hadn’t happened sooner.” You feel him shift, and he looks up at you.

“Really? You think we’d have tried it out in high school?

You shrug. “All things considered, I know we would’ve at least given it a shot eventually. There is no universe where we don’t. Not if you make me feel like this.”

When you look at him again, your heart practically shatters at the sight: silent tears streaming down his cheeks, bottom lip quivering, nostrils flaring in an attempt to hold back the sob in his throat. “I- I don’t even know what to say.”

“That’s a first.” You quip, swiping your thumb across his wet cheek. “You don’t have to say anything. Let me give you something else to do with your mouth, hm?”

He nods, neck straining towards you without even realizing. You place your hand on his cheek and take another look at him, one that hopefully conveys the millions of thoughts racing through your head right now, and lean in to kiss him yet again. His lips are slightly salty from his tears, but you relish in the honesty he’d shown you, the vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing from Eddie. He ‘s finally being real with you, and you cannot take that for granted.

–

crispy: u comin’ home? The message lights up your screen, and you look from the TV flashing images of an old slasher movie to respond: > maybe. not sure yet, dont wait up crispy: u with ed? > dont u have my location crispy: wanted to see if u’d lie > asshole crispy: use protection! c u later ;p

You roll your eyes, tossing your phone onto the empty cushion, and reach over to pet Ethel, who’s asleep purring in Eddie’s lap. Eddie casually stretches his arm out, resting it on the back of the sofa, and you hesitate only for a minute before scooching into the space he’s made for you against his ribcage. You rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes to focus solely on the rise and fall of his chest, heartbeat steady but a little quicker than seems normal, making you bloom with a quiet pride. For once, there is no sense of impending doom, no waiting for the other shoe to drop. Being here, with him, feels right.

[ash5monster01]

Not Just The Books

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, no use of Y/N, smut, nudity, language, fluff, friends to lovers, minors DNI.

Summary: Steve catches you reading a smutty book and before the embarrassment can settle in you realize he is more interested in doing the stuff in the book with you.

word count: 3.5k

Masterlist

It was not uncommon for you and Steve to be able to sit in silence comfortably. Sometimes having the presence of a friend while you did different things was so much better than being alone. So you both sat comfortably in his living room, you in the easy chair, lamp on to illuminate your book, and him in the center of the couch, slumped down, as he watched whatever was on TV. The sound didn’t bother you as you read, you normally were in another world, not noticing the things around you. So even though Steve had the TV blaring with the hearing of a Grandpa, you didn’t even mind, the TV could explode and you wouldn’t notice. Thing was Steve always noticed you, even if his favorite movie was on TV.

So when he spotted you uncrossing your legs it peaked his interest. You still hadn’t torn your eyes from the book to see he had noticed your movement. Steve had almost turned away until he saw you had pressed your legs together, your teeth capturing your bottom lip. His heart accelerated slightly because he knew that kind of movement. He had caused many of girls that kind of movement, so when you started to shift in your seat, your breaths coming out in smaller pants he realized there was something more to the book you had tightly gripped in your hands. You still didn’t even flinch as Steve stood and walked over to you, in fact you couldn’t even tear your eyes from the page as he quite literally did it for you.

“Steve!” you screeched and he quickly noticed how dilated your eyes were, how fast your chest rose with each breath. You looked like a woman starved.

“Since when do books make you act like that” Steve teased, eyebrows raised highly and you felt the embarrassment burn through you.

“Please give me my book back” you begged, hand out, waiting for him to hand it over.

“You know, normally I would” and the panic started to set in as he turned the book towards himself. Steve never attempted to read your books. Why now?

“Please Steve!” you we’re quick, lunging towards him, but he was quicker. Your voice was rough, all worked up, and no one had even touched you.

“It’s always Steve you need to read more, when was the last time you opened a book, and now you don’t want me too?” he knew he was getting under your skin and you just prayed he woundn't read the page you were on. If there was some higher power out there they would keep him from reading that page right now.

“Just not that book, I was enjoying it” even Steve could hear how uncomfortable you sounded as you said it. It was as if you were trying to get him to cough it up without knowing what was so interesting about it.

“Well, I want to see what’s so good” and just like that his eyes dipped down and you launched for him. Yet Steve escaped your grasp, running across the room, and leaping onto the couch where he stood. Book now face open and you got to watch him read it in real time, like he was on a stage.

Claire panted out heavy breaths, skin on fire everywhere he left a wet love bite and blew on it. She tried to steady her breathing but as his wet kisses trailed down her stomach, finishing on the waist band of her shorts, she couldn’t quite seem to stop the breaths that came out.

Slowly his fingers curled into her waistband and she lifted her hips to make it easier, a silent conformation that what he was doing was okay. As the cool air of the bedroom hit her dripping core she couldn’t help but whimper over the thought of him burying himself between her folds.

“So perfect” he spoke, his tongue darting out to take a small taste. “And sweet”

Then just like that he was devouring her completely. So fast her back arched without her knowledge, pressing into him as he deliciously lapped up everything he could. Eating her out better than anyone ever had, and as his nose nudged against her clit she couldn’t help but begin to feel the coil tighten in her stomach. He had barely done anything and she was already ready to cum.

“Holy shit” Steve muttered, dropping his arms that held the book as he looked down at you from the couch. Very much unable to meet his eyes as he realized exactly what you were reading.

“Can I have my book back now?” you nervously asked, arm rubbing up and down your other one. Steve jumped back down to the ground. Trying to regain your gaze.

“Want to explain this to me?” he asked, holding it over and you quickly snatched it back.

“Not particularly” you now hyper aware of exactly how alone the two of you were right now.

“You like to read dirty books” he chuckled like a little kid and finally you dared to glance up at him only to see a smug look on his face, like he obtained information he was going to hold over your head for years to come.

“Most girls do Steve” you hissed attempting to hit him with the book but he quickly stopped you, his head coming to a shake.

“Whatever you say, it just looked like you were really enjoying it. I’d never seen you so…” he paused, trying to think of a word, and your heart accelerated. Thumping quickly against your ribs and you prayed he couldn’t hear it. “Worked up”

You sucked in a sharp breath as he said it and the air around you turned heavy. This had gone from embarrassing to mortifying because not only did you get caught reading about sex but you got caught for it turning you on. Steve had noticed you were turned on and now you wished he didn’t notice you even existed. “Can we not talk about this, I was acting like I always do”

“That’s a lie, you wouldn’t move while reading even if a tornado came through here but you couldn’t even sit still. You were needy and I know it because I’ve seen it a hundred times” now you were red as a fire truck and Steve was enjoying this way too much. Yet he was also getting turned on which he shouldn’t have because it’s you. His longest and oldest friend, the one he can be completely comfortable with but now he wanted to know exactly how wet you were from that stupid book and he wanted to see if he could get you wetter.

“Ah yes, King Steve, ruler of sex. Can’t take a hint but knows when a girl is turned on” you told him sarcastically, annoyed he insisted on embarrassing you further.

“So you admit to being turned on?” he said with a smirk and you rolled your eyes with a groan.

“My God give it a break, yes I was turned on, is that what you want to hear?” you asked him and as you let out heavy breaths and waited for him to give a sarcastic answer it never came. Instead he stared you down, like you admitting this suddenly made you a four course meal. Steve had never looked at you like this and now you were nervous all over again but about an entirely different thing.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you nervously asked, attempting to back away from him because now the foot and half between you two was way too close.

“I’m not doing anything” he told you, stepping towards you to shorten the distance again and you wished he hadn’t of done it because now Steve was replacing the guy in the book for you.

“Yes you are, you’re looking at me like you want to kiss me” you said, trying to make it sound like a joke but even to you is sounded nervous. Steve just tilted his head, eyeing you up and down completely.

“It looks like that because I do want to kiss you” how was he so comfortable talking to you like this? You had never crossed this line before and now you wanted him to touch you and stay away all at the same time. “So can I kiss you?”

“I uh, I I..-“ you stammered, unsure how you went from peacefully ignoring each other to the edge of the line. If you say yes you would give him a reason to cross it and that was a lot of responsibility for a person.

“I need an answer sweetheart, because I really really want to kiss you” he spoke slowly and you swallowed hard, still turned on from the book and now a little turned on by him.

“Uh yeah, I-I guess” you told him and a grin cracked across his face and before you could say anything more his hands were on your face and drawing your lips near his own. He waited a minute before pressing them to yours, whether is was hesitant or savory you weren’t sure. But after a steady breath he pressed against you, mouth hot and slotting between your own lips perfectly. He was a good kisser but you already knew that.

It took only seconds for it to get heated, his hands tugging lightly at your hair and tongue grazing your lip. You parted in an instant, letting his tongue tangle with your own and then it was over. He had you backing up all the way to wall, your back thumping against it, and his knee wedging between your legs. Against your better judgement you started to grind against it, unable to stop your self considering how worked up you had been. “Getting yourself so turned on without any release, seems like torture sweetheart”

“There was going to be release, later, when I was alone” and your response had Steve’s head tipping back as he let out a groan.

“Still unfair, why don’t you let me take care of you?” Steve coaxed and you involuntarily ground down on his leg, knowing release was right around the corner if you just let him. Was it worth it though? To cross this line just for some sweet release? For a touch that could unwind you more than your own hands could? You knew Steve was a good lay, had been legend among the Hawkins High halls because of it. Should you even find out for yourself with risk of ruining the friendship? Fuck it.

You didn’t even have to answer based on the way your lips smashed back into his own. He met your pace in the blink of an eye and you couldn’t keep yourself from pulling at the hem of his shirt, trying to lift it above his head. Even needier at the sight of his bare torso you began to ride his leg like your life depended on it. A deep chuckle left his throat as his hands dug in the doughy flesh of your hips, slowing your movements against him. He wanted to take his sweet time with you and if he went any slower you were going to be a whining mess.

“What do you need baby?” he asked against your neck, sucking hard on the sensitive spot there and you were in no position to care that he probably gave you a crimson hickey.

“Take off my shirt” you told him with a groan, keening as he licked the sore spot of your neck. He obeyed, removing the baggy T-shirt you had worn over here just to be met with the sight that you had forgone a bra. You watched as his eyes turned almost black at the sight of you, swallowing thickly before cupping his hands around both your breasts. The minute he began to knead the flesh your head was hitting back against the wall, fighting from grinding on his leg again. Something about Steve needily groping your chest ignited a fire within you and you had been doing good until your nipple was sucked into his warm mouth and involuntarily you bucked your hips on his leg so hard you felt your hips bones hit his own.

"Such a needy girl" he teased before moving to suck on your other breast. As much as his words turned you on you still found yourself needing to feel more in control. Steve would be too cocky knowing he got you to so desperately fall apart like this. So in a moment of courage you took some intiative. With his eyes still closed, mouth littering your breast with hickeys, you dropped your hand down and grasped his hard on through his sweats. You felt the squeak from his throat on your breast as you began to stroke him through his pants and just as the girls had said in highschol, Steve was intimidatingly big.

“Looks like the book turned more than just me on” you teased, a sly smile on your face and Steve removed his mouth from your breast, tongue grazing up the skin of you neck till he was face to face.

“That’s not the book, that’s you” he told you and these words gave you the rush of confidence you needed for your fingers to slip below his waist band and grasp his cock right at the base. He hissed at the feeling of your cool fingers and the attention you were giving him.

“Stevie is needy too, what does he need?” you hummed, eyes wide and innocently looking up at him. He squeezed his own eyes shut as you slowly stroked him, prepared to ease him out of his pants.

“Baby this is about you” he told you, trying his best to back away but you had a grip on him that he was enjoying way too much.

“I know, that’s why I want to do this” and you were spinning both of you around, pressing him against the wall he previously had you caged in. He groaned as you dropped to your knees, breasts swinging as you finally pulled his sweat pants down. His length stared you down but he looked delicious as ever. If someone had ever suggested you’d be sucking your best friends cock tonight you would’ve told them they were lying but now here you were, taking him into your mouth. You hummed at the saltiness of his skin, tongue swirling around his swollen tip. He grabbed your hair without even realizing, trying to ease you to take more of him. Slacking your jaw you allowed him to glide in and out of your warm mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat, humming against him which made him writhe against the wall.

“Okay, stop I’m going to cum” he pulled you off of him, arms easing under your own and lifting you to your feet as if you weighed nothing. You smiled deviously at him, chin slick with spit and he didn’t waste two seconds before pulling you into a deep kiss. “It’s my turn to get a taste now”

He was mumbling against your lips, arms wrapped around you as he carried you over to the couch he had been watching TV on. Once he had you laid gently across it he was removing his own pants and dropping to his knees to remove yours. He made sure to take his sweet time, pulling the soft material down your legs, memorizing the cream color of the lace panties that had been soaked against your mound. You tried not to whine out as he touched you everywhere but there. You were on the verge of begging until he finally moved to pull the cream fabric off of you. You went to close your legs but his arm stopped you, keeping you wide open for him.

“So perfect” he said and you groaned out.

“Don’t tease” and Steve knew you meant both about the book and about how he was taking care of you. So he just grinned before dipping down and licking a long stripe through your folds.

“And sweet” and you didn’t have any time to yell at him because he was devouring you whole. Your stomach jumped as he sucked harshly at your clit, back arching and pressing your pussy straight into his face. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, more than likely leaving bruised finger prints but you hoped they did. You wanted to remember the mind numbing head Steve Harrington gave you. You almost didn’t expect him to be so good at eating you out. You should’ve thought because your heels were digging into his back, hands tugging harshly as his curls, and you were moaning unapologetically because he was just that good. You could feel the coil begin to tighten in your stomach and you were grinding against his tongue, movements getting faster indicating you were right there. It wasn’t until his lips wrapped around your clit did you find yourself begin to snap, shaking as your body seemed to leave earth and come back to you all at once.

“Hope you’ve got another one in you baby” he cooed, kissing up your stomach and breasts. He finally met your mouth and even though you were already half worn out you found yourself gripping his cock in your hand again. He winced due to holding his own orgasm off and your thumb gently rolled over his tip.

“Show me what you’ve got Harrington” you were telling him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sucking on his neck. Steve hoped you were leaving your mark and soon enough you were lining him up between your legs. You shuttered as he ran himself through your slick.

He couldn’t wait any longer and finally he was pushing himself in you, bottoming out in seconds as you fully sucked him in. He knew not to move as your mouth froze against his neck and he moved to kiss your lips, an apology and promise that it would stop hurting soon. He was in his own pain of needed relief until your hand was grazing down his bare back.

“Please move, I’m begging you” and he didn’t need to be told twice as he pulled back and slammed into you again. You moaned loudly and he quickly found his pace, moving in and out of you as best he could. Swiftly you grabbed his hands, placing them on your breasts which he didn’t hesitate to grip. He used them for balance as he slammed in and out you, massaging them and loving them as best he could. The way you were reacting made him realize this was what turned you on most, attention to your breasts. Needing to have his release soon he dipped down, removing one hand to suck at your nipple as hard as he could, hips still slamming into you. The wet heat of his mouth had you keening in seconds and you gasped out, trying your best not to yell.

“I’m coming Steve, fuck cum in me please” you begged and he almost came right there as he heard those words. In moments you were pulsating around him, clenching tightly and milking him for all he was worth. The tightness of you made him follow right after, thick ropes shooting into you. You panted heavily as you gripped his shoulders, indicating him not to move.

“I want you inside of me a little longer” you told him and he slowly eased down onto you, trying his best not to move and overstimulate you.

“Where the fuck did this behavior come from?” he asked, pressing gentle kisses to the hickeys he had littered your breasts with. He was trying his best not to get hard over the fact he was still inside of you.

“I’ve always been like this Steve” you told him, feeling him twitch inside you.

“This dirty, why haven’t we been fucking sooner?” he chuckled, mouth kissing your chin and you rolled your eyes.

“Because I don’t fuck around Steve, and I always told myself that if we did this it had to be real” and the weight of your words hit him with surprise. Yet it wasn’t the kind of surprise you had expected.

“You mean to tell me you liked me this whole time too? Then what the fuck have we been waiting for?” he groaned out and your eyes widened as you reached for him.

“You like me too?” you hopefully asked and he smiled, lifting to press his mouth to your own. You winced as he slipped out of you, no doubt a mess all over the couch that now had to be cleaned.

“Hell I love you, I’ve always loved you” he told you after a beat and you smiled up at him, realizing you should’ve read dirty books around him sooner.

“We’ll in that case, let’s do this again”

For you to enjoy <3: @jjmaybankswifes-blog @halflifejess

[hitlikehammers]

so maybe steve strikes a bargain with unknown eldritch upside down gods in exchange for eddie’s life, what of it? ♥️ the hell else was he supposed to do, don’t even judge him ✨what’s a hades/persephone kinda deal among soon-to-be-more-than-friends, anyway?✨

✨future fic (because somehow steve signed them up to be 💫star-crossed-adjacent guardians of the seasons ❄️☀️ or some shit)

but they’re canny motherfuckers; they can make the arrangement bearable their own

(kind of.)

They’d been lucky. They’d been lucky that Steve had come back on his own to the boathouse that first night. Had talked Eddie down, made sure he wasn’t alone—held him, a stranger at best, a pariah at worst, and never once shamed him, fucking soothed him when he couldn’t fight tears. They’re lucky that the walk through the woods somehow short circuited any remaining shred of sense in him, or maybe shocked it into overdrive as he’d grabbed Steve behind a tree thick enough to hide from either of their compatriots turning around and catching it, catching them when he carefully—those bats hadn’t been kind—but a little bit crazedly pressed Steve against the fragile-rotting bark, where Steve stilled, stared, and then closed the distance between them.  Eddie’d had his taste on his lips right up ‘til the end. Not even his own blood had taken it from him at the last.  He’d felt death, though, like a limbo, a haze rather than a darkness, a liminal fog and he’d screamed, he hadn’t felt quite alone, even before a voice echoed: “We are freed from him now.” Eddie’d shouted questions long after his throat started stinging for it, before realizing the echoing voice hadn’t been talking to him; most especially when he’d felt warmth in inexplicable places in the form he’d been walking around in that he wasn’t wholly sure was even really and truly a body, but then— “You can’t take him.” Eddie turned, knew it fruitless to try to find the source but it hurt so bad because that voice was absolutely tortured, and it was— It was Steve. Or: of course Steve bargains with the ancient eldritch deity beings of the Upside Down for Eddie’s life. And maybe they end up some ill-defined guardians of the seasons in weird Persephone-style twist as a result. What the hell else was he supposed to do?

rating: m ♥️ tags: post-S4, everyone loves, getting together, magical realism✨, established relationship, future fic, of course steve makes a bargain with the eldritch ancient god being things in the upside down to save eddie’s life, what ELSE what he going to do?, don’t even pretend to judge him, eddie and steve become ✨guardians of the seasons✨, it’s a task they definitely make their own, very Persephone coded, fluff, romance, softness, let me repeat that last one: SOFTNESSSSSS ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-one: “If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“How can you even stand it?” Dustin whines, his leg bouncing frantically as he tries to hide how he’s scanning the edges of the park for any hint; and sign: “If Suze and I—

“You’re missing him hard, aren’t you?”

Eddie asks it from behind his sunglasses—how bright the glare sparkles off the ice is the outward sign that it could be today, that it could possibly happen today; but for Eddie, there’s no need for the kinds of hints that drove Dustin to his door, bouncy and frantic, anything but the impressive computa-chemical-whatever-nerdy-as-fuck-genius-level professional he’s grown into, with his own mini-brood of Hendersons, no: he’s immediately fifteen years old again asking Maybe today, could he maybe come today, is it close enough, like, not on the calendar but sometimes he shows up unexpected, right, so maybe today—

It would be unexpected; it’s late January. Far too early, by rights. But again: Eddie doesn’t need any outward signs.

Ever since it started, ever since the deal was struck with powers beyond their ken, with sense beyond their grasp or even want of it: they’d neither of them wanted sense if it could have cost them the chance at this, it’s just—

It’s hard, still. Easier every year but: hard. Eddie thinks it’ll always be hard. He loves too deep, like this, for even a breath without to be less than a tiny agony.

But fuck if he’d trade it for anything.

They’d been lucky. They’d been lucky that Steve had come back on his own to the boathouse that first night. Had talked Eddie down, made sure he wasn’t alone—held him, a stranger at best, a pariah at worst, and never once shamed him, fucking soothed him when he couldn’t fight tears. They’re lucky that the walk through the woods somehow short circuited any remaining shred of sense in him, or maybe shocked it into overdrive as he’d grabbed Steve behind a tree thick enough to hide from either of their compatriots turning around and catching it, catching them when he carefully—those bats hadn’t been kind—but a little bit crazedly pressed Steve against the fragile-rotting bark, where Steve stilled, stared, and then closed the distance between them.

Eddie’d had his taste on his lips right up ‘til the end. Not even his own blood had taken it from him at the last.

He’d felt death, though, like a limbo, a haze rather than a darkness, a liminal fog and he’d screamed, he hadn’t felt quite alone, even before a voice echoed:

“We are freed from him now.”

Eddie’d shouted questions long after his throat started stinging for it, before realizing the echoing voice hadn’t been talking to him; most especially when he’d felt warmth in inexplicable places in the form he’d been walking around in that he wasn’t wholly sure was even really and truly a body, but then—

“You can’t take him.”

Eddie turned, knew it fruitless to try to find the source but it hurt so bad because that voice was absolutely tortured, and it was—

It was Steve.

It was Steve and Eddie recognized the warmth, then: his body on the ground being cradled close so his still-cold chest touched a living one, arms around him, and he’d reached with his own version of a hand to trace the feeling.

“We killed Vecna, we set you free. You cannot take him.”

Oh, Steve.

Eddie was right, in all that he’d wondered if he was being fucking insane even by his measure, to think he could love this man, maybe even already was a little by the time they’d parted ways. But after what he hears?

And then piecing it all together, Steve fighting something that trembled otherworldly in the air for the sake of keeping Eddie like Eddie was worth it. Like Steve cared that much.

Time passed, and then the voice had come through clearer; something shook in Eddie’s chest like an echo, and the sick taunt of a pulse to a corpse:

“This nature has been perverted. Abused. It has been tied for purposes indefensible and profane to another realm. You will take guardianship of the tempers of your dimension, in exchange.”

Eddie’d been pretty fucking sure that the words had meant as little to Steve as they had to Eddie himself, but Steve hadn’t let more than a second pass before he was all in:

“Done.”

And Eddie had gasped in a breath more painful than he’d recalled death being in the first place, save that this time it’s soothed by the way he blinks to waking with Steve’s hands on his face, fingers trailing to his neck to check his pulse thrown back to racing—mostly?

Just…Eddie’s coming to find that most things are soothed, made bearable by the fact of Steve Harrington.

Back to the point though: since the very beginning, opening his eyes when he thought he’d never do something so mundane, so human, so alive even again, and to the sight of an angel’s face at that, tear-streaked and staring at him and him alone: Eddie didn’t need tangible proof to know, coiled and warm behind his sternum, that change was on the air.

And they’d both absorbed the terms spoken only to them—a fact they later discovered, annoyingly, in trying to explain to everyone else—that they were in charge of keeping watch of the seasons, and naturally, then, they’d be apart for the work of it most of the year. Steve watching summer, Eddie manning winter—save for the middle-grounds; the overlaps inside the ends of autumn and the beginnings of spring—windows they’d know innately, though how?

Fuck if they understood the mechanics of it all.

It was heartbreak. It was a miracle.

They would have until that year’s autumn equinox to prepare for…for maybe always.

“Like Hades and Persephone,” Robin had said, horrified and marveling in equal measure, gripping hard to Steve’s hand.

“Seems worse, though,” Dustin had chimed in—typical. “Like it’d be less time, depending on what counts as overlap.”

Eddie and Steve had…not disagreed. And had made the most of the embers of what they’d started to feel in the boathouse, in the Upside Down: they leapt without looking, and fell fast—the way Steve did too often, but never like this before; the way Eddie had quietly daydreamed about every so often, all the while knowing it could never be for him.

Eddie—then to now—doesn’t think anyone ever expected the thing they make for themselves, for each other, in those scant months, when they imbued so much, trusted hearts and souls to a word as small as love.

And when the time came, and they parted—they were neither of them ever unoccupied, they realized quick, Steve feeling physically pulled across the fucking equator all the stronger by the day: but when the time came?

Dying hurt worse. Eddie swears it without a fucking ounce of doubt in him, no hesitation.

It’d been a bleak fucking season.

But they’d both known their share adversities, if dressed up different across time. They weren’t…they mourned, for a little while.

But then Eddie, in the dead of his own winter, found a bright bouquet of fresh wildflowers he’d never seen before his doorstep, from fields he’d never set foot upon.

He can remember, just in closing his eyes and breathing in, how his heart had leapt; had hoped, and he’d—

“Why can’t we take a day?”

Eddie can hold his breath and relive it right now, just how that voice had stolen the air from his lungs as he’d stood just past the solstice, so much time left before he could even hope to see the other half of his fucking heart—how he’d spun toward the sound of it but was dizzy already before he moved a single inch, how he’d slowed the distance and crashed into Steve’s waiting arms, the steady strength of his welcoming chest with enough force to shake his own heart into beating with real gusto, with an intent he hadn’t realized so so dimmed, maybe wholly snuffed out in these months without.

He hadn’t questioned the how—plane, just a plane on the credit card he still had from his dad’s account, probably a one-time opportunity but worth it, more than, and proof that they could split the difference of the time, they could find ways, make money, spend all of it on how they needed each other now just to be able to breathe right.

“We have to keep the bargain,” Steve had always held, the steel in his gaze something Eddie knew in his bones not to question even at the start, especially not when it was followed by the kinds of kisses that convinced Eddie that a human soul was a real thing, for how it got teased from his throat, tongue to tongue.

“That can’t possibly mean there isn’t any,” Steve had gasped, just as sure and unwavering, but the steel giving way to a neediness, a softer resolve, if still just as unshakable: “any flexibility.”

Eddie couldn’t have agreed more.

And it hadn’t been easy, especially not out the gate; but they’d learned. They’d both left tokens, Steve leaving flowers, Eddie bringing holly and pine, surprising Steve on hot days with icy hands on his shoulders when he packed snow in a cooler just for the sake of the bit; Dustin had found out further into their working through a balance and had declared that—

“That’s like,” he’d frowned, less from distaste and more from actually to puzzle out something unexplainable: “long-distance flirting but, metaphysical? Meteorological?”

Eddie had been the one to hear that dedication with his own ears and had felt distaste, forbade Dustin on the spot from speculating before he got to—

“Primal-magic phone-sex on steroids,” Dustin had muttered himself and yep. That.

Before he got to that.

He’d shared it with Steve, who was as entertained and appalled as Eddie in fairly equal measures, but had made a point come his own time in Indiana again to impress, in no uncertain terms, that Dustin needed to shut his fucking trap about his and Eddie’s love life, lest Steve cause the temperature of his petri dishes to unfortunately shift by half a degree and spoil his weird ass mold experiment.

That’d been a pretty effective threat, even if Steve wasn’t actually capable of delivering on it without the aid of fire.

Which he wasn’t above employing.

Regardless—

They’d worked hard, built slow, and as they learned that the only cost that time seemed to extract from either of them was missing one another worse than a limb, they had the time to invest in something lasting.

They never let another season pass where they saw nothing of each other, ever again.

Now, though.

Now, they have it down to an art. Eddie makes music—has had all the time in the world to wait until the right someone hears and understands what he’s saying in the notes, and he does. Steve teaches at a community college, flexible enough for his real job, and funnily enough—gorgeouslyenough—sells flowers. Invests, here and there, because it was one thing his father had drilled him into knowing enough about before giving up on him as a lost cause. He picks underdogs, mostly because they’re cheap and the very idea of not spites everything his father stood for. Expected of him that was all so far from everything Steve is.

A couple of those underdogs make them a pretty fucking penny. It makes their ongoing trial-and-error of how to do their jobs—to maintain their end of the agreement, to the minimum viable product, and love on each other to the maximum possible extent in every interim possible—it makes the experimenting of it all easier; quicker.

It has to cut the hurting time in half, at the very least.

They never do hear directly from those voices again, the ones who struck their bargain—but they can feel direction, displeasure, satisfaction. They know they’re kept watch of, in the same way they both somehow know how, and what to keep watch of in doing the work for themselves: they don’t change things, can’t change thing; they’re not…powerful, not that way, just some degree of timeless, ageless—which is a whole other hill to climb, and cross to bear, especially when Steve sees Robin, is part of why they made the exception that is Robin; but then increasingly when either of them see the kids, and now the kids with their own kids—but.

They learn that the winds, the magnetic poles, fucking nature magic: it pushes them when their traveling aligns with the seasonal shifts, rather than their own desires—those have racked them up significant benefits from frequent flyer miles—but if they’re pulled by their callings, the callings they can fucking feel—they could fight it. But if they’re give in to it, assent to it, they can blink and end up where they’re meant to be.

Trippy. But kinda cool.

(Would be way cooler if it’s was just straight-up teleportation but: still neat.)

They’ll feel off a day or two, queasy before they overstay their hemisphere, their season outside the natural overlaps. They both of them push it by design, by their own nature—they come to suspect the powers that entrusted them with this, gifted and cursed with this task while blessing them with each other: they think those entities appreciate their commitment to the task alongside, second only to their commitment to each other. They both assume those eldritch gods are responsible for the minor barometric oddities that crop up if they push the limits too far, not-so-subtle nudges back to what they promised; what they’re bound to.

And Steve never lets them push too far, too afraid even after all this time to risk the bargain being taken back, rendered void, quite literally; Eddie, who never shared that sense of preservation regarding his own self, sure as shit shares it tenfold when applied to what he shares with Steve so: he never argues.

He cuddles Steve harder those last days, always, because while he knows they could have languished an eternity literally split from one another for half a year at least, for always, the way he’s grown to feel differently, to gauge time both as shorter and longer and inconsequential depending on the context: it all fades away against the backdrop of how much bigger his love is, and how an hour is a day and the fortnights are a century in his chest, nonetheless.

But as time passes, as the world changes and technology shifts and he can call Steve easier, he can hear his voice, then when webcams came around—it got better. It gets better all the time.

But still: he always feels less whole, whenever either of them has to leave, no matter for how long.

“Shut up,” Dustin shakes him back to the present with the snippy tone he shoots Eddie’s way—some things truly never change—but Eddie honestly doesn’t remember what the fuck either of them had said, but then he glances over and—

Ah. Still staring at the trees. Waiting.

“Think about how Robin feels,” and it’s a little disingenuous, seeing as Robin sees more of Steve than any of them, but Eddie means it as a sympathy. A commiseration.

Dustin scoffs.

“Maybe Robin flaunts that whole capital ‘P’ platonic soulmate thing left and goddamn right,” he bites out with narrowed eyes; “but that’s my fucking brother—“

“You’ll get to see him all the time, all summer long, shithead,” Eddie flicks his ear fondly—Dustin squawks and again, it’s refreshing. No matter how old they might look in comparison now, they’re still who they’ve always been to each other.

And yes, Steve’s still his brother. Steve didn’t forgetthat, never had for a second. And Eddie’s spent all winter with Dustin and Suzie and their munchkins—Steve’s gonna lose it to see how much they’ve grown in just a few months. Eddie’s excited for it, will go straight there with them if that’s what Dustin wants, will understand if Dustin would rather some one-on-one first, this surprised out-of-season visit quite possibly a fleeting one. Eddie gets it, he’ll—

“But these are the only times I get both of you,” Dustin trains his eyes on the trees more intently, now—less to avoid looking elsewhere than to seek out what might comes out from them; “together.”

Eddie’s throat tightens a little. He won’t pretend it doesn’t swell his heart the way it does to hear it.

He swallows, clears his throat, and tries his damnedest to not trample prominent but also not actually fall into the amount of feeling that’s behind the admission, all the history inside it. He’s never been good at that shit.

Except with Steve.

“It is earlier than usual,” Eddie comments, tries to make it encouraging; “that global warming thing, think we’re both gonna start to linger longer in the overlay as a rule,” Dustin frowns and yeah, okay, maybe that part’s less encouraging.

“Might end up sucking hardcore for you guys, though,” he adds, a little sheepish. “Sorry, man.”

Because seriously: he and Steve, they don’t make the seasons. Just watch over them, as best they can. Conduits for whatever the Upside Down really is—they still haven’t ever understood the powers that had receded under Vecna and returned to make them as them are, and frankly, they don’t mind overmuch, so long as whatever that power isallows for the life they lead that, they’d never had had a chance at otherwise—but they’re mostly messengers. They can’t…fix, what’s looking like it’s happening. And the buzz they both feel from the power that made them this way is concerned, but in a distant way. Like hearing sad story about another life, a century removed from yours.

“We’re working on that,” Dustin says and, yeah. Eddie’s pretty sure somewhere in Dustin’s massive government lab of geniuses, they are. Fuck? But he’s so proud of his little sheepie, all grown up.

And then there’s how Steve feels—

“Hmm,” Eddie hums as he nods; “plus the overlap will work down south, too, so,” he muses, pulls his with his hair across his mouth the way apparent immortality never knocked out of him.

“Down south?”

Oh. Right. Oops.

They don’t flaunt how they’ve made the most of the flexibility—or those long shot investments—and perfected a schedule to live more like businessmen with long company trips every few weeks than quasi-magical beings who traded death for this, and made out so much more the richer. It’s not that they don’t love everyone, the kids, their families, the Party at large. As he made a point to notdivulge before: Robin is the only one who knows, because of course she does, but they keep houses in both halves of the world, not sprawling but not modest, comfortable and welcoming to the two of them plus one occasional platonic soulmate. They can each of them stretch their time away from their own season to near two weeks—it’s too disruptive to switch straight back with whoever is leaving their current home-turf just just returning with a stowaway, they have to rebalance for another two weeks but then, if they switch, of Eddie visits first, they wait, and then Steve makes the journey next? It holds.

And so they do exactly that.

They’re just…Steve committed them to a fantasy life, the bargains of a Labyrinth crossed with the whimsy of the fae, he’d done it without question just to save Eddie’s fucking life, okay, so it can’t be a fucking surprise that when they fell whole-heart in love, it got a little co-dependent.

Eddie actually fucking adores that about them, and Steve does, too—it’s everything they missed out on in the first part of their lives, and ached for worse than they’d realized until the space was filled, then overflowed; now they get to have it in spades, and forever.

“Oh, just musing about the state of the mortal coil,” Eddie rolls his head over to Dustin to give him an answer, even if it’s not a whole one—if he told him the full story of just how often they see each other, he’d absolutely push his way into what Eddie needs as just for him. Maybe it’s selfish.

But Eddie’s not wholly human anymore, so far as he can tell, so he’s gonna just lean into that’s a limitation no longer relevant to my being argument.

He’s honestly grown pretty fond of that argument.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin shoves him, more than used to giving him shit when he plays high-and-mighty for serving as co-chief chronicler of the weather and still looking 20.

“Let me see him,” Eddie’s voice slips serious, because his heartburn thumping, his nerves are shivering, it doesn’t fucking matter that the two weeks apart has only been two weeks—the same senses heightened to feel his other half approaching on the breeze more than on a round trip ticket: it heightens everything.

And there is something special, unique, in the first natural shift where Steve gets to step into Eddie’s space and be held tight in Eddie’s arms because the seasons will it, because their bargain holds and keeps them.

“Just let me see him for a bit on my own,” Eddie turns to Dustin, pleading him to stay put on the bench where they’ve been waiting, Eddie knowing that this park, along these woods, is where Steve will come if he comes at all—but he has not qualms begging for just a minute alone as feels himself start to rise to his feet because the cells of his body know that Steve’s near, now, and call him to move, to run to his partner, his only.

He sees the unspoken protest in Dustin’s eyes

But you’ll have him forever.

Eddie gets it, sighs; tries to explain.

“When we,” he pauses, tries to find a better word but really there’s only one: “changed, we became something,” and Eddie, see, they were never told the details, the how’s and whys never explained. They just know how it feels.

And how much it feels is more than enough to serve as an explanation, as is.

“My heart’s got this bigger capacity to feel, now,” Eddie tries just being blunt, and not trying to logic out what transcends the concept as a rule; “my soul’s, just,” he shakes his head a bites on a grin in a battle that he’s ecstatic to lose:

“It’s just his in a way I never could have dreamed of before. It was already basically true before but that truth was a,” Eddie sighs, and doesn’t bother fighting the grin this time because it’d be a lost cause before he even starts, the very same heart he’s talking about is stretched to bursting and he, he wants, he needs him to understand that because Dustin’s become his brother, too, in a different but still profound way and Eddie loves him, so he wants him to understand it’s not about shutting him out, or denying him a single thing, but what Eddie knows a normal person can feel, like, not by choice but by design is, is—

“A fuckin’ pittance, man, in comparison.”

Dustin eyes him, and—thank fuck—reads not only what Eddie says but what he means; that Eddie also feels bigger for what they have, for Dustin’s family, for the whole Party and the sun and snow and the trees and then—

Then there’s his whole heart and soul, that he can feel is about to be waiting in those trees—another level. A wholeness he couldn’t put to words if he tried, which is how he knows it’s both real, and other; not what he was or could have been before they were given their duties; gifted their whole fucking lives.

In each each other.

Dustin finally sighs, theatrically in a way that makes Eddie chuckle as he’s shooed away with a sage “Public indecency is still a crime!” —to which Eddie offers his middle finger as he bounds through the tree line and only stops when he finds the clearing that feels right.

Then he waits.

And waits.

He lets his eyes close, reaches inward where his heartbeat’s ramping up; reaches outward to the trees, still barren but never quiet, never dead.

He feels.

Feels something slip behind his ear: a stem, petals tickling his cheekbone when nothing here is blooming yet; when everything is blooming nowunder Eddie’s ribs, blossoming in the smile that stretches across his lips as a warm breath tickles his neck and weight presses behind him, familiar arms wrapping around his waist:

“Gorgeous weather you’re a having, hmm?” Steve teases and the shell of his ear, nips the lobe and turns Eddie around at the hips and fuck yeah.

Fuck yeah

It’s gorgeous.

🌷🌺🌷🌺

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[plistommy]

Steve and Eddie are definitely the annoying couple who keeps making out in front of everyone because they can’t keep their hands off of each other for too long.

Like, it’s a movie night for example and not even twenty minutes in and Steve’s already sitting on Eddie’s lap as they make out and let these small giggles that makes everyone hiss at them to shut the fuck up.

And when they play DnD, everyone real focused, there comes Steve bringing everyone some snacks and sodas and lord behold their beloved Master is already up and going to hug him like they weren’t just in the middle of a campaign.

Dustin gives them shit for it the most, but he secretly really loves them together. He just likes to be a dick.