#steve is not fooled

[stevefightmerogerss]

[skulksouls]

Hey, has anybody else got this death message today

[incorrectcompoundnotes]

Steve: I think I’m gonna quit the team.

Tony: April Fools…right?

Steve: April what?

Tony, distraught: Wait, actually?!

Steve, laughing: No, I’d never leave. We had April Fools in the 1900s, dumbass.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve’s seen it before.

The barely concealed expression of horror, made right as a lady hears one of his cornball, goofy jokes and speeds through the five stages of grief as they realize they still want to fuck him. 

Even if he says shit so ridiculous a middle schooler couldn’t get away with it. 

(And Steve would know, because he’s watched Dustin try.)  

It’s a core part of his personality really. He was smooth about it when he cared about appearances, locked the corny shit away until they were alone and he could reveal just enough of his real self to seal the deal.  

Then he was all about making teddy bears talk and all other kinds of stupid shit. 

Nowadays he doesn't bother with putting on the cool guy front. 

Steve is who he is, and likes who he likes, and that perhaps, is why this particular look of horrified acceptance is so amusing.

Because it’s not on a girl's face.

It’s on Eddie’s. 

Which he expected, because Steve’s not as stupid as the kids think.

Just as Eddie isn’t the best at hiding his crushes like he thinks he is. 

The over-the-top showmanship and teasing, the jokes and theatrics might fool most of the Party, and had even Robin second guessing for a while, but none of them have done their time in the trenches.

Romance is, and has always been, Steve’s game.

“What did you say?” Eddie asks, laughter ringing through his voice, and with a cocky grin, Steve steps into his space and happily repeats himself. 

“I said--if no one’s done it yet, then let me be the first to thank you for wearing those pants.” For the second time, Steve sends his eyes downward, only to slowly pull them back up. “What are they made out of? Boyfriend material?” 

“oh my God.” Eddie says but he’s grinning, a finger pulling some hair across his face and Steve knows then and there that he’s won.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie tells Wayne everything. They’re very open and honest with each other. Always have been.

Steve, on the other hand, does not talk to his parents unless he absolutely has to. If they asked him what his favorite song was, he’d lie.

So, it’s a bit of a shock when they’re back in Eddie’s bedroom, making out. Things are getting heated and Steve can hear Eddie fumbling one-handed in the drawer of his nightstand right before he mutters, “Shit.”

Steve asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Eddie says, pulling back a bit. “Just give me a second.”

Steve watches him slide off the bed, throw open the door, and practically shout, “Hey Wayne, do you got any condoms?”

Steve is so mortified that he dissociates for a second and then leaves out the window so he doesn’t have to pass Wayne on the way out.

[toktopus-art]

haunted house time

[teruel-a-witch]

5x17 'Are they cops or are they married?' - 'Yes.'

[hairmetal666]

Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

--

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

--

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

--

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

--

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."

[strawlessandbraless]

For April Fools Day enjoy my collection of culty Tumblr ads I mistook for supernatural fanart

Like I’m sorry but that’s Steve at the Gas-n-Sip

[mojowitchcraft]

When the twerps u let join ur cool club bring a spunky toddler along and u r at ur limit

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I just KNOW that takin his whole stupid gang to the charity shops to make sure they were actually wearin the right clothes for the season was an ordeal darry took VERY seriously

[shieldofiron]

It's not gay if it's a prank.

[strangersteddierthings]

So it's like, Eddie comes back and now he's like really affectionate to Steve in a way he wasn't before. Except it's not Eddie, it's Kas trying to pretend to be Eddie. Kas doesn't have Eddie's memories, just echos of feelings towards people and apparently Eddie had Super Strong Feelings towards Steve. So strong Kas thinks "They must have been lovers. If I play in love with the man with the nailbat, they will surely Believe I Am Eddie and I can help Vecna defeat them from within" and that is NOT the case.

Queue shenanigans as everyone tries to figure what who the hell is in their friend's body while trying to pretend they don't suspect a thing. Because the sudden affection for Steve is just the piece that tips the scale, because there's been an awful lot of things not adding up since Eddie returned. Like Eddie eating veggies happily while Wayne stares at him, suspicious and confused, or when Will asked about DnD and 'Eddie' was like what the fuck is that and Will's like... Dungeons and Dragons? The others said you were just as obsessed as us with it?? and Kas!Eddie has to be like "*nervous laughter* hahaha I jest I love the Dungeons and the Dragons". Etc.

And then poor steve is left to deal with this affection he wanted so bad before but doesn't want now because he didn't want Eddie for his body (even if it is a really nice body) but he liked all the things about Eddie that no longer seem to exist. He's not loud, he's not outspoken and wild, he doesn't care for music anymore, didn't even know what dnd was! Everything that made Eddie Eddie is gone and Steve doesn't know how to feel about finally getting what he wanted (Eddie's affection) but it's not the Eddie Steve fell in love with. But Steve's supposed to be distracting the imposter while the others work out a plan.

[bee-ina-boat]

THE besties ever. do not separate

[pearynice]

Roadtrip

for @thefreakandthehair, for the April Fools swap! I hope you like it, and I hope I chose right! 🫶

Eddie’s never seen the ocean. 

He’s seen lakes and rivers, sure. Ponds and quarries and reservoirs, but never the ocean. Never a real beach, with crabs and seashells and saltwater. Never with real sand between his toes instead of mud, never with tides that ebb and flow. 

When he was little his mother had one of those big spiral shells that she kept on the mantle, told him that if he pressed it to his ear he could hear the thundering of the waves against the shores of the Atlantic, could hear the same waves that would lap at her shins as a girl. 

The shell is long gone, of course. Lost to whatever box or bin his dad had dumped it in. 

But Eddie never stopped thinking about it. About white beaches and what sand would feel like beneath the soles of his feet. About the crashing of waves and the endless, endless expanse of water. How he would be just a drop in it. A speck, really, within its massive depths. Comforting, somehow, instead of terrifying. 

It’s what Steve promised him, when he first woke up. When they still weren’t sure what the bat bites were gonna do to him. I’ll take you to the ocean. He’d said, you just gotta pull through, man. 

And it was a goddamn bitch and a half doing it. Even after the doctors realized the bat venom was harmless, getting all his shredded muscles to be muscles again was a pain in the ass. He’s actually pretty glad he isn’t all suped up like El, or else he’s nearly positive he would’ve brained his physical therapist ten times over. 

If he has to see one more motivational poster, one more kid with too-white teeth grinning at him that he can do it! he’sgoing to lose his mind.

He’s complaining about it when Steve offers. 

“Let’s go.” Steve says. He’s tossing a baseball up and down. Throwing it with one hand and catching it with the other.

Eddie lifts his head from the couch. “What?”

“Let’s go.” Steve repeats. “Now. Get you out of here before you survive Vecna only to be taken down by a peppy cat telling you to hang on.” Steve puts the baseball to the side. Meets Eddie’s gaze like he means it. Like now means right now. 

Eddie snorts. “You’re insane, Harrington.” But he doesn’t take his eyes off Steve, because Steve is grinning, bright and excited and Eddie’s weak to the magnetic pull of it, the thrumming that vibrates under his skin when Steve looks at him like that. 

“We’re going.” Steve affirms, “what is it, twelve hours to Virginia Beach?” His grin widens. “Bet we can make it in ten.”

It’s insane. It’s insanity. It’s four in the afternoon and they won’t get to the beach before midnight but Steve’s like a goddamn dog with a bone when he really gets going, grabbing them both nothing but swim trunks and toothbrushes before he declares them ready. 

A trip to Melvald’s, though, was deemed a requirement. 

“Road trip food!” Steve had defended, and by the time they’re on the road it’s creeping toward 5, but there’s cokes in the van’s cupholders, red vines in the console, Steve singing Springsteen in his ear, and as the warm June air rips through their windows, as they leave Hawkins in the dust, Eddie swears he can already hear those thundering waves. 

They listen to Springsteen. To ABBA and Motörhead, to The Talking Heads and Mercyful Fate. Steve rolls his window down and cards his fingers through the rushing air, his hair ruffling as the early summer wind spills across them both. As the sun lowers Steve flicks on the ridiculous sunglasses he always says make him look like George Michael. Dark and square Steve grins like the dingus Robin always calls him out for being, toothy and wide and confident, and Eddie’s stomach swoops, knowing, really, that George Michael doesn’t hold a goddamn candle. 

They’ve only just crossed into West Virginia by the time Eddie needs to switch, his upset nerves sending bright sparks of resistance up his legs at the position, but Steve just says they need to stop for real food, anyways. 

They eat at a diner with sticky menus and chipped plates, and Steve sucks down his milkshake so fast he gets brain freeze. 

And it’s easy. It’s all so easy, after three months of the opposite, of exercises and tutoring and clawing tooth and nail to graduate, to move again—it’s easy. He breathes, and he doesn’t smell the vestiges of the Upside Down, smiles, and doesn’t feel guilty that Chrissy isn’t here to be able to, anymore. 

They play I Spy on the road until the sun dips below the horizon. Until they’re one of a handful of cars on the road. Until Eddie has to click on the overhead light to read their crumpled map. Until they’ve gone through all of Eddie’s tapes that Steve can stomach and they’re forced to fall back on the radio, snorting at the staticky ads the late-night stations make their money on.

It’s nearly midnight when they finally cross into Virginia, the both of them subsisting on little beyond the caffeine in the six pack of Cokes they’d somehow had the foresight to bring. But if he’s tired, Steve doesn’t show it. Shrugs off Eddie’s offers to drive. Stays bright eyed as they merge from I-64 to I-81 and back, as the clock ticks far past midnight and the first signs for the beach finally crop up. 

They slow as they merge off the interstate, the map inches from Eddie’s face as he tries to read the tiny type of street names. 

They make a wrong turn more than once. Have to double back twice. But Steve just grins, tells Eddie: it’s part of the experience. 

It’s closing in on 4am when they pull into the deserted parking lot. When Steve kills the engine and they both stare across the calm, inky surface of the Atlantic. The very air smells different. Salty and fresh, as if the water itself changes the very atmosphere around it. 

Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s. Grips it tight for one beat, two, before unlocking his car door. 

They climb under the thin chain that signals the beach as closed. Eddie slips off his shoes the moment they reach the boardwalk, when he can feel the thin film of sand grind against his heels. It’s rougher than he expected. Coarse instead of the soft, fluffy texture he’d been expecting, how he’d imagined it in all the photos. 

Steve has to help him across the sand. Holds his arm as they cross the unstable and uneven distance to where the tide laps at the shore. 

It’s warmer than he expected. As the water laps at his ankles, retreats, only to reach again, he smiles as the heated water soothes his frayed nerves. He wiggles his toes. Watches as they create tiny ripples in the water, droplets flying, and he grins wider, bubbles of giddiness swelling in his chest before they pop and he laughs, delighted as the drag of the tide sinks his feet deeper into the sand. 

He looks to Steve, to the boy who took him here, who drove and drove and drove, all afternoon and all night so Eddie could have this, have something after everything—and Steve’s already looking at him. Doesn’t even pretend to not be as his smile quirks a little more, his hand still bracing Eddie’s arm. 

“Can you stand?” He asks, “I can go put our shoes down.” He nods towards Eddie’s shirt, “your shirt, too, if you don’t want it wet.”

Eddie nods, and Steve releases his hold, standing close until Eddie’s shirt is in a ball in Steve’s waiting hand. 

Steve jogs away, and Eddie stares out at the dark expanse, at the waves he can see cresting and falling so many miles away. He looks down, down to where his feet are still slowly sinking into the sand, like the ocean itself is trying to claim him, trying to make him one with it, one with the push and pull, one with its crystalline shores and darkest depths, one with its torrential waves and calming tides, how he could be one speck in something so much larger. 

And then Steve is at his side again. He holds his hand, this time. Slides his fingers between Eddie’s and helps him pull his feet free. 

The water is at their shins. Their knees. Then their hips and then their waists, the dark ink of the water wrapping around them both. The moon and the stars glint off its rippling surface, and out here the sand is softer, a cushion under his toes as he releases Steve’s hand—and dives under. 

It’s different than anywhere else he’s ever swam. It’s silent. He can hear nothing under its surface. Not the movement of his body or the sound of the wind, nothing, beyond the rush of water. He keeps his eyes closed and it sounds like the spiral shell, sounds like his mother pressing it to his ear and whispering that it could take him here, if he listened hard enough. 

In the water he’s buoyant, and when he pedals his legs and pumps his arms their protests are distant, more of a grumble than an outright shout to the contrary and he kicks faster, until his lungs scream and he feels salt in his nose.

He splutters when he surfaces. With hair in his eyes and salt on his tongue he has to wipe at his face before the water is gone, before he can blink his eyes open. Steve waves. A dorky little smile on his face as he waggles his fingers, before dipping under. 

Eddie can’t see him under the water. Can’t see his shadow or his ripples of movement—and for once it doesn’t strike him to be afraid. Not for Steve’s life or his own, because they’re safe. They’re safe, and the most dangerous thing that could wrap around either of their ankles is seaweed. 

Steve’s hand brushes Eddie’s shin. His touch featherlight under the darkness of the water, before popping up next to him. 

Steve too wipes the water from his face. Flips back his hair. And smiles. 

Eddie could never get the shell to bring him here, like his mother said it could. Could never get it to carry him to the water’s edge. Could never get it to take him away. 

But Steve takes his hand again. Curls their fingers together. “Worth the drive?” Steve’s voice coalesces into the lapping of the tide, his face inches from Eddie’s own, water still glistening against his skin. 

The waves push and pull, and Eddie swallows. “Yeah.” Eddie whispers. “Thank you, Steve.” The waves push and pull. Lap at their waists. 

Steve squeezes his hand. And it feels inevitable. Feels like the moon itself is pulling them together as the tides push, and Eddie follows. 

They lean forward at the same time. Let the tide push them together, and not apart.

Steve tastes like salt. Like the ocean. Endless and comforting he brings up his hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, squeezing his hand, and Eddie’s never felt less like a drop in the ocean.

They watch the sunrise. Watch as the sky changes from black to blue to red to orange, the sun’s rays skipping like stones over the ocean’s surface. Their hair dries in salty tangles and they eat the last of their roadtrip food while seagulls and morning runners begin to encroach in on their bubble. Surfers begin to ride the incoming tide and the clouds alight with sun-kissed hues. 

He’s shirtless. They both are. Their scars exposed to the salt and the sand—and no one glances their way.

[morganbritton132]

In the early days of Eddie’s internet career when he was doing absolutely anything to starve off boredom during covid lockdown, he joins this virtual D&D campaign with some other celebrities. It’s live-streamed to raise money for covid relief.

He’s in the middle of the campaign when he hears a very, very flirty, “Wow, is that rockstar, Eddie Munson? I’m your number one fan.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker to someone off camera and then he says with so much regret, “Babe, I’m working.”

You can hear Steve sigh off-screen and the sound of him leaving the room. Then you can hear someone laugh on screen and Eddie mumbles, “Shut up, Jeff.”