#uh huh yep ok eddie has to live without him

[femslashspuffy]

The second venom started stitching together eddie's side wound in that helicopter I knew he made up his mind. Eddie doesnt get to die. They dont both get to go out in a blaze of glory. Venom's the big sexy hero afterall

[hairstevington]

“Well, this is new…”

Steve x Eddie (realizing feelings, some good ole gay panic)

***Spoilers for Volume 1!!

Ao3 Link

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“So…ya come here often?” Eddie said as he walked side by side with Steve. He couldn’t believe any of this was happening. It was a completely normal week, and then….He tried not to think about Chrissy, but he was sure that image would never leave him. And now here he was, diving headfirst into a fucking lake and fighting some sort of demon bats in the Upside Down with Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington. It was madness. Absolute goddamn madness. He’d always been the freak, the weirdo. Steve and Nancy were the popular kids, the ones with normal lives. And yet here they were, facing atrocities Eddie had never dreamed of, barely phased. In the Upside Down, Eddie wasn’t a freak. He was just a guy, scared out of his mind.

“Ha, only once before this. But I always was dying to come back.” Steve remarked, dryly.

“Well, I can see why.” Eddie said, kicking a rock out of his way as he continued walking. Maybe it was silly, being so cavalier, but Eddie had always used humor to cope with trauma. Everything around him was so dark, he couldn’t help but try to make it lighter. “So, when did this all start?” He asked, gesturing to everything around him.

“Uh, I don’t know. Junior year. It’s not something I seek out, I just kinda keep getting thrown into it.” Steve responded.

“I never pegged you as such a badass, Harrington.” Eddie teased, leaning in towards Steve and grinning.

“First of all, ouch.” Steve started, flipping a lock of hair out of his eye. Eddie smirked in response. “Secondly, blame Dustin.”

“Dustin?!” Eddie repeated, chuckling lightly. “What did that little shrimp do?” Steve thought about this.

“Let’s see. He raised a demodog in his bedroom in order to impress a girl, got us locked in an underground Russian spy base, and generally just keeps getting himself into trouble.”

“What an idiot.” Eddie joked. It all sounded ridiculous, but nothing could shock him anymore.

“Yeah, but he’s my idiot.” Steve replied, smiling. “That kid’s too smart for his own good. He’s gonna rule the world someday, I swear.”

“Yeah, probably.” Eddie agreed. He’d grown fond of Dustin since he joined Hellfire. He took Eddie seriously, and treated him like an actual person instead of a freak. “At least the dog part sounds nice.”

“It wasn’t.” Steve assured. He paused, arranging his hands into a big imaginary box - side to side, then up and down. “This big. Lots of teeth. No face.” He explained, wincing. The movement of his arms had irritated the wound in his abdomen.

“Shit, you ok?” Eddie asked, concerned. Steve nodded, but clutched his side. “Can I see?”

Eddie peeled back the fabric covering Steve’s lower stomach. Yep. That was a chunk taken out for sure. “Damn.” Eddie announced.

“How bad?” Steve asked. He’d never been injured by one of the creatures from the Upside Down before, and as much as he tried to keep his cool, there was only so much he could take. Robin constantly reminding him of rabies also did not help.

“Uh, I’ve seen worse.” Eddie responded, not admitting that he’d only seen worse in movies. “It’s just your six pack is now more of a five pack.” He teased.

Steve scoffed, playfully. “Still more than you.”

“C’mon now, you don’t know that.” Eddie winked at Steve, then knelt down in front of him to get a closer look. Huh. Steve was not prepared to be thinking about Eddie Munson without a shirt on today. In some ways it was more alarming than everything else that was going on. Steve hadn’t really had a guy friend his own age since Tommy, the asshole he ditched sophomore year. Still, seeing Eddie kneel in front of him made him feel differently than he’d expect. Was the bite in his side making his stomach feel this way?

Eddie looked underneath the makeshift bandage. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on, considering it was dark all around him and the wound was covered in blood. He wished he had something to clean it with. Even if there was water around, Eddie didn’t trust anything from this place to be any sort of sterile. “You could spit on it.” He suggested. Steve looked down at Eddie, still perched on the ground in front of him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve responded. Eddie couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused.

“I heard somewhere that spit is a natural antiseptic. Makes you heal faster or something.” Eddie said. He knew he’d heard this before, he’d just personally never tried it.

“How am I supposed to��? How much saliva do you think I have???” Steve sputtered incredulously. Eddie was almost certain now they were joking around. It was all so crazy, everything about this situation. Eddie burst out laughing, and Steve followed suit. They allowed themselves to laugh for a few moments before Steve stopped to clutch his side again. With his other hand he reached out to Eddie, who gripped it firmly to pull himself up. Eddie jumped to his feet, stumbling for a second trying to regain his balance. Steve instinctively reached out to grab Eddie’s arms on both sides, stabilizing him. “You good?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Just a little light headed.” He looked into Steve’s eyes. He was kind of beautiful actually. I mean, the guy had just been through hell, and he still looked like a movie star. Steve was a little younger than Eddie, but he was still always jealous of him in high school. There was just something about him. Probably the hair. But now, Eddie had found that Steve was genuinely a cool person too. God dammit.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Steve agreed. His hands lingered on Eddie for a few moments more than they needed to. He wasn’t expecting Eddie’s arms to be so…muscular.

“Hey, shitbirds! Catch up, maybe?” Robin’s voice echoed from afar. Neither Steve nor Eddie realized how long they’d been standing there in place. Nancy and Robin were way up ahead, waiting.

Steve dropped his hands. “Right, yeah. We should keep walking.” He told Eddie. “We’re coming!” He called to the girls.

[agentkgent]

Song Insp. 1 - “Undrunk”

Inspired by “Undrunk” by FLETCHER; Eddie and Richie are in their freshman years at separate colleges, and broken up since high school (Richie didn’t think long distance would work); Anyway, Eddie sees Richie post photos with a cute boy and he gets drunk and he gets voicemail-happy. Enjoy. (Mild sexual content, some profanity, underage drinking, mention of throwing up, but overall pretty tame; Oh, also Pennywise never existed ok thanx)

Cleaned-up and updated version available on AO3

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[Please enter your password.]

****

[“Richie Tozier, mothafuckers!” You have. 19. New Voicemails.]

Voicemail 1 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:20 A.M. “Fuck-“ *low thud*

Voicemail 2 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:33 A.M. “Hi fuckface. It’s Eddie Spaghetti ... I fuckin hated that nickname, so it’s PRETTY WEIRD to call myself that, right? ... Like, do you call yourself ‘Trashmouth’? ... *a loud fake “HA!”* ... You probably do, nothing ever fuckin bothers you-”

Voicemail 3 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:43 A.M. “-don’t know why I’m even messing, but I just wanted you to know that this ‘cute little wimpy boy’ as you used to call me is drunk as FUCK right now in a bar full of hot dudes who are all touching me and buying me jello shots and shit-”

Voicemail 4 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:45 A.M. *shuffling noises* “-eriously Bev, FUCK OFF”

“Eddie, give me the phone!”

Voicemail 5 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:50 A.M. “The lovely Beverly Marsh would like me to tell you she says ‘hi’ and that she’s not condoning my bullshit ... but guess what, bitch? I don’t need anyone to condo my bull-” *hiccup* “-shit. Oh no. Oh fuck. How do I get rid of hiccups? BEV-”

Voicemail 6 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:53 A.M. *hiccup* “-ou think you’re the only fuckin person in the universe, you think you’re hot shit. I’m hot shit. I’ve kissed like, A LOT of dudes tonight, how about that?! Okay? They’re all buying me shots and shit and one guy even picked me up. Remember when you did that? Guess what, other guys can do that too! You’re not fucking special-”

Voicemail 7 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:54 A.M. “Richie, it’s Bev ... Hi, I’m sorry we haven’t talked in a while.” *bass rumbles from a song change in the background* “Listen ... I’m sorry about Eddie. He’s upset about something you posted on Instagram earlier today, I didn’t see it, so I don’t know what he’s pissed about. I dunno, it’s none of my business, but he’s just drunk and being stupid. I’ll try to get him to stop calling you ... Um, so, ... I hope you’re doing okay! Like I said, I’m sorry we haven’t, like, talked or anything in a while but I’d love to catch up! Maybe you can come visit NYU sometime? I mean, you can visit me at NYU. I don’t mean-” *a loud, drunk yell* “It’d just be nice to see you, Rich. Text me!”

Voicemail 8 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:56 A.M. “Hey dipshit your voicemail system keeps cutting me off, what the fuck?”

Voicemail 9 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:18 A.M. *silence* ... *a deep breath* ... *shuffling*

Voicemail 10 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:20 A.M. *club music and background noise is gone* *groan* ... “It’s just so fuckin’ easy for you to just MOVE ON, huh? Fucking bullshit. Mr. ‘I Love You But Long Distance Never Works.’ Mr. ‘Oh But This Guys Got Great Hair I’ll Fuck Him.’ He’s ugly, by the way. All the guys you go to school with look fucking ugly online. And you know that I don’t make shit up when I drink tequila, I just get more honest, so those fuckbois are ugly as hell-”

Voicemail 11 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:23 A.M. “I guess the best part of living far, far away from you is forgetting what you look like. Are you even still good-looking? You might be ugly, now too.” *quiet shuffling* ... *tapping noises* “I still got the photos you sent me ... I probably should have deleted them, but I guess I figured if I needed to have ammo ready in case you decided to be a dickhead-”

Voicemail 12 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:26 A.M. “Fuck... I forgot...” *muffled noises* ... *a deep, throaty breath* “Fuck...”

Voicemail 13 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:50 A.M. “Richie, I... I’m sorry ... This just ... Sucks.” *a deep breath* ... *quiet shuffling* “I don’t think it’s worth anything now and I’ve gotta-” *cough*

Voicemail 14 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:14 A.M. *clears throat* “...Well, I feel a little bit better after throwing up ... I’m also now realizing some of the horrible shit I’ve said tonight, so if you stopped listening to these voicemails, I’d understand ... But I’m just ... This is really hard. And I saw that photo of that fuckin guy, and you have your arm around him-”

Voicemail 15 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:15 A.M. “Dude, seriously, what the fuck is your voicemail’s problem? It keeps cutting me off. I’m trying to open up here.”

Voicemail 16 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:28 A.M. *deep breath* “I’m sorry. This is stupid ... Bye, Rich.”

Voicemail 17 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:57 A.M. *quiet sob* “I just... I wish I never met you, sometimes.” *sniffle* “Because now I always compare everyone to you ... And you’re gone, we’re done, like I get it. But it just sucks ... I really wish I could just like, ‘un-fuck’ you. You’re all I can think about when I - ... I hate that I miss you so much. I hate that I drank so much and got so fuckin- ugh, god, I kissed strangers.”

Voicemail 18 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 4:01 A.M. “This is gonna be the biggest regret of my fucking life, leaving you 300 voicemails. Please don’t abuse this. I’m not proud of it.”

Voicemail 19 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 4:31 A.M. “Yeah, jus-” *soft thuds* “Just tell him-” *gentle taps* 

“Rich? It’s Bev again. Hey, so. I’m with Eddie now, I’m making sure he gets to bed and doesn’t choke on his own puke. He said he’s really sorry. Um, but yeah, please don’t humiliate him? He’s kind of an emotional mess. Sorry again.” *shuffling noises* “Jesus, Eddie! How many voicemails did you leave him? He’ll probably send the police looking for us-”

[End of messages. To save messages, press-] *beep*

[Messages saved.]

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Eddie’s head is pounding as his ears recognize the familiar digital noise ringing next to him. He instinctively picks up his phone and checks his screen.

*Incoming Facetime request from Richie Tozier*

He thinks he might throw up.

*Accept* and the video call connects.

“...Before you say anything, I’m paying for it dearly.” Eddie groans.

His eyes focus on the figure on his screen. It’s obnoxiously close and familiar and makes Eddie ashamed of himself. Richie doesn’t say anything. He just raises his eyebrows and waits for Eddie to say... something?

“And... I’m sorry, Rich.” Eddie rubs sleep from his eyes and feels a strong ache developing in his skull. “I’m an asshole. I’m really sorry. I’ll leave you alone forever now, bye-”

“Eddie!” Richie interrupts ferociously. “You left me. Almost 20 voicemails. What the fuck is your problem? Do you understand that when you leave 20 voicemails for someone, they’re gonna think you’re dead? Or kidnapped? Or trapped under a fallen vending machine, or some shit?!”

“Okay well, if I was kidnapped, it wouldn’t have done me any good. Why didn’t you answer?”

Richie scoffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Fuck off. First of all, you really think this would go any better if you’d talked to me?”

Eddie swallows. “No.”

“And SECONDLY, I left my phone at Stan’s house. We watched Zombeavers and I had my phone on silent.”

“...What the hell is Zombeavers?”

“Eddie are you fucking serious? Don’t ever fucking do that to me again!” He spits faster than anything Eddie’s heard him say and brushes his curls away from his face. “Thank your lucky stars that Beverly was taking care of you. I talked to her this morning.”

Eddie swipes down on his screen to check the time. 1:01 p.m.

“Goddamn it.” Eddie moans. His head is the swampiest he’s ever felt. Like his brain is sloshing around in alcohol. He gags visibly at the thought.

“Whatever you’re feeling, you deserve ten times worse.”

Eddie wipes his mouth and fidgets with his hair, brushing it away from his increasingly warm face. “Okay, I get it. I’m fucking sorry.” He can feel tears forming behind his eyes. “I’m fucking sorry. I was a drunk idiot. I was a jealous asshole and I need to mind my own fucking business.”

Richie doesn’t respond.

Eddie suspects the conversation is concluding, so he prepares to hang up as fast as he can say ‘goodbye’-

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“What?”

Richie sighs. “The guy in the Instagram photo isn’t my boyfriend, I haven’t hooked up with him or anything. He’s Stan’s roommate. He’s also extremely straight. Like, next level hetero. Annoyingly hetero. I really like making him uncomfortable.”

Well, if Eddie didn’t feel ashamed before, he sure fuckin does now.

“Oh.”

“Yep. So, uh. Nothing to get jealous over, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Still? Can you stop?”

Richie’s face twists in disbelief. “You have no room to tell me to stop anything right now.”

“I’m sorry, though. For being jealous.”

Richie pauses. “It’s okay. A lot of the guys I go to school with are pretty ugly.” He leans away from the phone and shouts, “STANLEY INCLUDED!”

Eddie hears an echoed, “FUCK YOUUUU” from a voice somewhere behind Richie, who laughs. Proud of himself.

Eddie tries to smile, but he’s still empty.

“You have plenty of guys to keep you company, sounds like.” Richie says in a less-than-thrilled tone.

“I gave them pecks on the mouth.” Eddie says without looking back at his phone. “They bought me shots and tried to hit on me, but I don’t want to exchange saliva with strangers. I think I exaggerated in the voicemails, though.”

“Well, you always compare them to me, right? To the Trashmouth?”

Eddie’s own words are restored in his memory. “Jesus christ, I-”

“It’s okay, Eds. After my rage subsided and I talked to Bev and figured out that you were okay, I actually admired the honesty.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh mockingly at himself. “Yeah, that’s me. Super honest. To a fault.”

Richie smiles. “Bev and I talked about hanging out next weekend. Got any plans?”

Eddie’s eyebrow twitches and he looks back to his screen. “What?”

“I’m gonna come up next weekend. Bev invited me to stay for a weekend. I’ve never been to New York.” Richie shrugs.

Eddie can’t form words. He almost forgets that Richie can see him right now via digital video. He shouldn’t want to see Richie, but he does. He knows it now. It’s out of his mouth, out there in the universe. Fuck, it’s recorded in digital audio format.

“Are you free?”

“I uh...” Eddie stutters. “Yeah. Yeah, I- I free.”

“You’re still cute as can be, Eds.” Richie’s smile is sickeningly sweet.

Eddie lets a smile show on his face for a half-second, then presses his lips into a firm line. “Don’t call me Eds.”

Richie’s face changes immediately. “Oh! By the way!” He’s wearing a sleazy grin. “You kept photos of me? ...Like, those photos?”

Eddie has to take a moment to remember.

His face immediately goes neon red at the memory of resurfacing sext pictures and dick pics of Richie that they’d shared their senior years at Derry High School. He’d dug them up in his photo stream and... looked... too long at them. He can’t help but slap his own hand across his expression.

“Dude!” Richie laughs and is fixated on Eddie’s reaction. “Are you serious? You kept those? I thought I was an asshole for keeping a photo of you shirtless. You kept pictures of my dick?”

“Ok.” Eddie tries to punctuate the conversation.

“What else? I think I remember sending you my ass a couple times.”

“Alright, Rich. Don’t rub it in. I’m not proud of what I did.”

Richie pauses. “What do you mean ‘what you did?’”

Eddie feels like he might drop dead from self-inflicted humiliation. He doesn’t respond, he tries to think of a deflect.

“Eddie Kaspbrak...” Richie’s breath hitches in his throat. He’s not smiling. “Did you jerk off last night between voicemails?”

“Okay Rich, I’m sorry again about all the voicemails. But we’re good now, right?” Eddie presses.

“EDDIE DID YOU JERK OFF TO PHOTOS OF ME?” Richie yells, giant grin on his face and his eyes going dark. There’s a muffled, “What the fuck?” that comes from Stanley somewhere in the background, and Eddie is going to throw himself into oncoming traffic because certain death is better than the absolute tormenting embarrassment of this situation.

“You’ll figure everything out with Bev and we’ll see you next weekend, yeah?“ Eddie rushes to end the conversation.

“Hey! What the fuck! All I have is a shirtless pic to work off of, you’ve got like, Spielberg angles on my anatomy!” Richie chuckles. “Send me some new material, fucker!”

“Wow. Oh my god. Okay, good to talk to you, Rich.”

“Eddie.” Richie says, softer.

He looks at his screen one more time. “Yeah?”

“Text me next time?”