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whencaniwakeupp · 5 days ago

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It starts with the wavy haired brunette he'd spent half of junior year crushing on. It's been almost 3 years since then, but Samatha Birch is still as pretty as Keith remembers. Her bright blue eyes slant up ever so slightly, button nose dotted here and there with freckles. There's still that honeylemon scent clinging to her clothes.

They've spoken only once, because she'd dropped her lipstick in their shared history class and tapped his shoulder when it rolled under his seat.

"Grab my lipstick for me love?"

Keith could smell the watermelon from her breath at the time, a product of the gum she'd spent the entire class chewing. He still smells it now, as she taps her nails impatiently on the counter, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance while he tries his best to be quick with her tapes.

Keith's dropped them once already, a slight tremor in his hands due to the intensity of those bright eyes. And as he watches one slip past his slippery fingers yet again, he knows he isn't getting away with it this time.

"Seriously Kevin? Is it that hard to told onto something?"

Keith knows she can see his name tag, that the wrong name was entirely on purpose. But he apologizes anyways, hands her the tapes without any other fumbles.

"Sorry. Um' you look nice today Sam."

Keith's not sure why he says that, but it slips out on its own. She's clearly in a bad mood and girls like that aren't supposed to give guys like him the time of day. He knows it was the wrong move the moment her bubblegum lipgloss wraps around a sneer.

"Ew."

Is all Samatha Birch says before turning to leave.

And really Keith shouldn't be surprised, shouldn't even be upset. It's not like graduating high school means there aren't social laws in place for these kind of interactions. Still the sound of the store bell feels a little heavy on his eardrums as he watches the door close behind Sam's back.

"Huh. What a bitch."

The words are a perfect reflection of Keith's subconscious, a thought hidden behind the resignation high school has drilled into him. But Steve fucking Harrington who was well above all the wounds of that hellhole, naturally has no issue voicing it.

Keith lets irritation settle on his brows, pretends he doesn't feel a sliver of thanks for hearing someone say what he'd been thinking. Instead he turns around, takes one look at Steve– the type of guy Samantha definitely would not consider disgusting.

Steve doesn't look smug like Keith expects, instead his brows are pinched, lips downturned ever so slightly as he glares at the door. He supposes it should feel nice to have someone on his side at the moment, but Keith doesn't really want the King's pity. Not when he knows for a fact that the guy has probably done worse.

"You gonna just stand there or rewind those tapes?" He bites, and leaves before Steve can say anything else.

It's pretty fucking frustrating that Steve Harrington is so hard to hate.

Seriously, Keith knows that he's a spiteful guy, that finding someone irritating shouldn't be all this difficult for him. Especially someone who stood around with a metaphorical crown while his goonies went around terrorizing helpless teens. He'd kinda wondered what on earth had gotten Robin of all people–equally cynical if their brief band friendship had meant anything–to hang aroung with a guy like that. He's sorta still waiting for that duo to blow up spectacularly so he can pull up with an 'aHA, called it.'

But Steve Harrington isn't terrible. Terribly uncultured yes, but not terrible. He takes most of his shift with Robin so Keith rarely has to be stuck alone with him. But on the rare days they're together, all the guy does is lean against the counter and browse through some of their displayed magazines when there's nothing to do. They don't talk a lot and those shifts are often slower, but when they do it goes a lot better than whatever the hell Keith expects.

It's still relatively impersonal, and Keith has enough ingrained anger to still get very snappy after Steve Harrington gets a new number added to his collection, or another name for his friday night calendar.

It's unfair as hell, but he still can't properly hate the guy. Not when said guy mumbles the snarkiest and admittedly funniest shit under his breath after dealing with difficult customers. Not when his brows dip in intense concentration whenever Keith pointedly retells the difference between Star wars and Star trek.

And definitely not when Samantha comes back a few weeks later, twirling her wavy hair flirtatiously around her fingers, and Steve calls her a different name each time he addresses her. Each name is more off-target than the last, and when Steve waves her out with a 'Come again Marlene' Sam looks positively livid as she slams the door shut on her way out.

It should suck completely, in fact he should hate the idea of Steve-the hair-Harrigton doing anything for his sake. But when Steve pulls away from the counter with Sam's returns and sends a stupid looking wink in his direction, Keith actually snorts.

It irritating that he can't hate Steve Harrington, but even worse that he actually starts to like the guy.

It's why he does the unthinkable and actually lets Steve Harrington talk him into this bullshit.

"No no no" Steve Harrington is saying as he climbs back over the counter.

"I said look unbothered, not constipated. And lean on your left dude, that's your better side."

To demonstrate, Steve braces his right side against the counter, body angled slightly so he's still facing forward a bit. True to his instructions, his body is relaxes, eyelids drooping with boredom for a second before snapping back into focus.

"See? Like that. Except I get to lean on my right cause that's my better angle." He pushes himself off and vaults over the counter again, leaving the space open for Keith.

"Okay let's go again. And this time try to sound like you aren't being held at gun point okay?"

Steve Harrington backs up to the door, takes in a breath and walks back to the counter. There's a smile on his face when he leans forward on the counter, voice a higher register as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Hey Keith."

It's so so stupid. This whole thing.

And Keith doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry. Because Steve Harrington of all people, is pretending to be a chick, just so Keith can practice talking to the girl he's sort of crushing hard on right now. It's a combination of hilarious, pathetic and bizzare. But apprently this is his life now.

So Keith coughs, leans on his left side like Steve had showed him, tries to look bored and shifts his free hand through his significantly less luscious hair.

"Sup Edith." He says and cringes internally at how dumb he sounds. "Um. What can I do for you?"

Steve stares at him, eyes piercing like he's scoring Keith on some mental rubric, which is probably exactly what he's doing. A moment passes then he nods.

"Needs some work but we're making progress. Okay next thing."

Then he's talking about the best ways to slip in compliments and Keith honestly kinda just wants to die.

But it's not the worst thing. Goofing off with Harrington like this.

By some twisted miracle, Edith does say yes to a movie. She's the kind of girl who keeps her eyes down, mumbles a lot under her breath but actually has a lot of great opinions. She's not shy per say, just doesn't enjoy expending energy on people (her words). She's super cute too. At first Keith thinks she just doesn't know it, but Steve had shaken his head when he mentioned the theory.

"Nah she definitely knows it dude. She's just mastered the art of using it without coming off as vain."

And when Keith had told him he could learn from her, he'd gotten one of those noogies he absolutely despised. Threatened to fire Steve when he'd let out a cheeky 'awee so you think I'm cute.'

Needless to say, he gets a date and sort of kinda has Steve Harrington to thank for it.

Which is why he's doing this. Whatever the fuck this is. Payment for the date? An act of kindness? Keith doesn't know. But he's got two tickets to some show/competition in Indianapolis that his cousin had pawned off of someone before deciding he didn't want it anymore. It's for some band that Keith knows for a fact Steve doesn't listen to.

But he's pretty sure its the kinda shit Eddie Munson would like.

And yeah, he also doesn't know how the fuck Eddie Munson got wrapped up in all this, but the heavens must really love Steve Harrington cause it's honestly kind of funny how hard these miscallaneous as fuck tickets are to get on a regular day.

He's not sure how Steve Harrington made friends with the town freak but at this point Keith knows not to think too hard about who the guy spends time with. Between Robin and all those kids always trying to sneak out with R rated movies, he knows the guy flows with a totally different crowd now (he's not adding himself to that list just yet because denial is comfortable and he has some pride!)

But what Keith does know is that ever since that Dustin kid dragged Eddie Munson into the store to engage in a 3 way bickering session with Steve, the guy just kept coming back. And it's fine or whatever, Keith doesn't care about employees getting a little off task so long as what needs to be done is done and customers aren't forgotten. It's all just a regular case of friends bothering each other at work.

At least it was.

Before Steve Harringon helped him score a date.

Keith is kind of shocked he even picked up on it, he'd thrown that entire lesson out the window the moment it had happened, had stuttered his whole way into the first date even.

But he remembers. The store is empty and he's trying to think of a good place for a third date with Edith, and that's when the store bell rings and Steve's eyes snap up from his magazine. It's like watching a flashback, replaying movements from all those days back in crisp detail.

Steve leans on his right–his good side–schools his impression into something bored, flips a page on the magazine before running his hands through his hair.

And Keith can already imagine whatever pretty babe must have walked in. Christina maybe? with her straight dark hair and full lips. Or maybe Evelyn since she's got two overdue tapes to return and could probably take a modelling gig if she wanted to.

He's turning to verify his theory, but doesn't even get halfway before he hears the telltale greeting of none other than Eddie Munson.

"Good afternoon Stevie~"

And well– shit.

How does one even react to that?

Keith doesn't think he's like‐ against it or anything- can't imagine changing his entire view of someone just because they're into different things. It's just– how many fucking surprises can Steve Harrington possibly have. It's like they're stacked under that hair of his, popping out every once in a while to slap at Keith's worldviews and laugh at his face for it.

He probably isn't supposed to know, but now he does, and Keith isn't sure what to do with the information.

And then his cousin places those two tickets into his palm and he remembers Eddie saying something about Metal and music for his soul– the guy has too many monologues so it's hard to keep up, Keith definitely doesnt try to anyways.

So here he is now, thumb brushing over the sides of the tickets as he wonders if this is even going to do anything. If Eddie's even into Steve like that.

But it's better than nothing right?

The guy did sort of–barely–scored him a date. It's the least he could do.

"Hey Harrington." Keith says, coughs awkwardly cause he hasn't really called Steve that in a while. Steve seems to find it odd too judging from the quirk of his eyebrows.

"Harrington? What, am I in trouble?" He jokes and Keith rolls his eyes, feels relieved that Steve is at least still a little annoying.

"You know anyone that would be into a huh.." He squints at the tickets. "band battle?"

Steve frows slightly, tucks his magazine away and comes closer. "A what?"

Keith shrugs and shows him the tickets. "My cousin gave these to me. For some metal competition in Indianapolis next week. Parently it's a pretty small venue so the tickets are limited as fuck." He's not sure why he's pitching it so hard when Steve is clearly going to take them.

"Both new and rising bands like audition for it or something then hash it out on stage and for some reason people want to watch that."

But Steve isn't even listening. Keith can see the gears turning in his head as he scans the tickets over and over again.

"Shit dude is it okay if you give them away?" He says eventually, even though Keith can see the way his fingers are gripping tightly onto the slips.

"Like if they're so limited."

Keith shrugs again, thinks he's paid off all his years thinking the worst of Steve Harrington with this gesture– especially since not all of it was undeserved.

"Yeah it's whatever. My cousin didn't want it and it's not my thing so you can have it. It's that or the trash man."

It seems to put Steve's hesitation at ease, and it's clear that the dude is trying very hard not to smile– and failing tragically by the way.

"Shit okay" He says.

"Thank's man."

Steve Harrington spends the rest of his shift with the dopiest look on his face, and it's honestly only then that Keith realized that it's been ages since he saw the guy end a day with a new number or a friday night plan.

And isn't that something. Cause damn. Exactly how long has Steve Harrington been crushing on Eddie Munson?

#Steddie

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whencaniwakeupp · 6 days ago

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Not Just Friends

Summary: Eddie flirts with Steve constantly, and Steve flirts back. The lines start to blur, and Eddie gets all in his head about it, until he sees Steve with another guy and realizes that their weird little game was never that special at all. Or...maybe Steve's just a dumbass.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,230

***

“Family Video, this is Steve.”

“Hey, hot stuff, wanna make a big mistake?” Eddie asks.

“You sure it wouldn't be a small mistake?” Steve shoots back with zero hesitation.

“What- I'll have you know, it would be a very big mistake, Harrington. Extra large, ok? Ok maybe not extra large but definitely large,” Eddie insists.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, “did you call me this morning for a specific reason or are you awake with the sun for once on accident?”

Eddie clears his throat. He’ll never get over how easily Steve accepts the flirting. It makes him wonder what's going on in that pretty little head. Did he think Eddie was joking? Did he secretly like it?

“Do you want a movie or something? I'm free tonight,” Eddie asks, fiddling with the phone cord.

“What makes you think I'm free tonight?”

“The fact that you're never doing anything?”

“Jesus, Munson. Or something.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“I work at a movie store. I watch movies all day. No movies. I want the something.”

“It's a date,” Eddie dares to say.

“Whatever you say,” Steve says. Eddie can hear the smile in his voice just before the line goes dead. He feels a little accomplished, even if all he did was invite the guy over. Something he did every week at this point. But hey, this was progress, right?

He turns to look at the clutter in his bedroom and recalls the expression in Steve's face when he saw how dirty his old mattress was.

He starts cleaning.

About an hour later, when he's been thoroughly sidetracked with reorganizing the miniatures on his dresser, he hears a knock at the door. He flings the bedsheet into something nicer than the crumpled mess it had been and rushed to the door.

“Welcome to my humble abode, your highness,” he says with as he opens the door. Steve's fanning his shirt, sweat dripping down his forehead, but still waits patiently for Eddie to get out of the way like the perfect little houseguest. When he does, Steve beelines straight for Eddie's bedroom. He strips his shirt off and collapses on the bed under the window AC, basking in the cool air.

“Damn, Harrington, I see how it is,” Eddie says, then he squeaks when Steve balls up his shirt and tosses it at his head.

“Can’t you buy me dinner first? I'm feeling used,” Eddie jokes.

Steve pats the bed next to him. “Lay down next to me.”

Eddie listens, because he's a hopeless fool. He leaves some room between them, since he's already been coming on kind of strong today and doesn't want to scare Steve off for real. But then Steve closes the gap and rests his head on Eddie's chest.

He says something. Eddie's not sure what it is because he's too busy trying not to do something stupid like pulls steve on top of him and squeeze him as tight as he can.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, when he realizes Steve is silent again.

“I said, do you want to turn on the radio?”

“Oh! Why didn't you say so?” Eddie asks with a nervous chuckle.

“I did,” Steve says.

Eddie balances on his elbow and awkwardly stretches to reach the radio without jostling Steve's head. He's starting to form a cramp in his wrist from twisting it all wrong just to reach the thing when the weight on his chest lifts and suddenly, a shirtless Steve Harrington has one arm braced by Eddie's head and the other reaching across him.

Eddie stares at the hair on his chest, the dusty nipples right within reach of his mouth, the little moles dotting across his skin, tanned from whatever it was he willingly did outside in the summer heat all day.

“Got it,” Steve says, and suddenly Madonna’s singing in the background.

“You changed the channel,” Eddie complains distractedly. His palms are sweaty. He's hoping and praying that Steve won't look at his face and see whatever expression he's making because just knows it's going to be embarrassing. And apparently the man upstairs is on his side because Steve just lowers himself right there, right onto Eddie's chest.

“Your heart is racing,” he says.

Eddie can feel it, just like he can feel the rise and fall of Steve's chest with every breath, and the way his fingers curl around the hem of Eddie's t-shirt.

“Because you're so heavy,” Eddie scolds lightly, using the opportunity to touch the bare skin on Steve's back. He lets his hands linger there, and then decides to take a bigger risk and indulges a little, running his hand down his spine and then back up again to the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It's gotten a little long. He wonders if Steve's planning on growing it out as he plays with it.

“You know, people make fun of her, but Madonna is actually really talented. Did you see her new music video on MTV? She really knows how to stick it to the conservatives,” Eddie rambles. He's not sure why he's saying it. He respects Madonna, but he's more nervous of Steve realizing how weirdly intimate this position is and punching him in retaliation, or something.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. Eddie can feel his mouth moving against him as he speaks. And then, just because Steve is for some reason compelled by the universe to drive Eddie insane, he says, “I bet you could do better.”

Eddie tries not to scream.

~.~.~

Steve calls him next time. Doesn't even introduce himself, like he knows that the mere sound of his voice commands Eddie to do his bidding.

“Hey, man. Want me to pick you up after work?”

Eddie's never been one to need a plan to agree to something, but obviously he's going to say yes. Steve could invite him to sit in the ocean as the tide went up and he'd be perfectly fine doing it.

“Sure,” he says casually. He tries to think of what else to say, but before he can, Steve's already hung up.

Eddie got a new job through Wayne's buddy at the local parks and rec center, cleaning up and maintaining their public spaces. It's outside, which practically burns his soul through the mandatory jumper he has to wear in the summer heat, but he likes that people leave him alone. The town still doesn't trust him, but he puts up with it for Wayne and the kids.

And Steve.

He stands outside and waits next to the tiny building his boss does all the paperwork in, blocking the sun from his face with his hand until he sees that familiar BMW rolling towards him.

“Did you have a good day?” Steve asks, because he's genuinely nice like that.

“Eh,” Eddie says as he climbs into the passenger seat, “I had to wash vomit off a slide from a kid's birthday party. I've had better.”

Steve's nose wrinkles with sympathy. He's got the windows down, probably because it's hot as balls outside, but it's whipping his hair all over the place. Eddie wants to reach over and fix it, but he's not so sure Steve would like that. He's so distracted by it all that he doesn't even notice they're pulling to a stop on the road that backs up to the quarry.

“What's going on?” Eddie asks.

Steve smiles wickedly.

“Wanna smoke?” he asks.

“Oh?” Eddie says, lifting an eyebrow. He didn't expect that. Especially since it's his weed Steve's asking to smoke.

“You asking or offering, Harrington?”

“Both,” he says coyly, pulling a spare joint from his box of cigarettes. It's one Eddie gave him a few days earlier. He lights up and passes it over, his hand hovering in the short space between them. Eddie stares, thinking about how Steve's lips were just on the end of it, and now his lips are going to be too. It's kind of like a kiss, in a way. The idea makes him blush.

“So…is this how you treat all the girls, big boy?” Eddie teases.

“What?” Steve asks. He doesn't sound angry, so Eddie keeps pushing.

“A secluded parking spot in the woods at dusk, some weed, windows down. All we're missing is a little music and it could make a guy fall in love,” Eddie says, holding a hand to his heart.

Steve turns the keys in the ignition, bringing the radio and AC back to life.

“One can only dream,” Steve says with a wink that has no business being as smooth as it is.

And God, how Eddie can dream. He wonders yet again, if Steve is really this oblivious to their little game.

Steve turns the car back off and runs a hand through his hair like he does when he's thinking hard about something. Eddie can only hope it's that he's suddenly realizing that he's into men. He takes the joint, willing himself to stop thinking of foolish things.

With the car off, and it's starting to get disgustingly warm, so he focuses on that instead. Focuses so much on it that he ends up peeling the top half of his jumper off revealing an old ripped Metallica shirt.

“I'm sorry we couldn't save your guitar,” Steve says suddenly.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks. He meets Steve's eyes in the rearview mirror. Steve's staring at his shirt. “Oh, it's ok. I mean, it isn't, actually. I'll miss that thing until the end of time. But that's kind of the point, right? I can miss it because you guys saved my life, so, it's fine.”

He's rambling, because it feels ungrateful to feel sad about the loss of his guitar. His baby. His one and only.

Steve places a comforting hand just above his knee. It's warm, and weirdly intimate enough that it shakes Eddie out of his mournful thoughts.

“It's ok to be sad, man. You were pretty cool with that thing,” he says.

Eddie can't process Steve Harrington telling him he looked cool and touching his thigh at the same time. It's simply too much for him to handle. He takes another hit, keeping his mouth too busy to say something embarrassing.

“I never got to see you perform. I mean, I saw a bit of your show in the upside down, but nothing else,” Steve says.

“I can play something for you sometime,” Eddie says, before he can think it through.

“You'd do that for me?” Steve asks. Which is a stupid question. Eddie would obviously do anything for Steve.

His hand is still on Eddie's thigh. Guys don't usually do that, do they? Was Steve flirting with him for once? Without provocation?

“Yeah, I've got another guitar. It's an acoustic, but it does the job.”

Steve's quiet for a moment. Long enough that Eddie focuses back on his fingers slowly tapping his knees, like he's thinking something through.

“You want to go swimming?” Steve asks.

“... really?” Eddie asks, surprised that Steve would even want to after everything that happened with the upside down. Steve seems to understand, because his expression softens and then he shrugs.

“I think it would be easier if someone went with me,” he says softly.

It occurs to Eddie that this must have been Steve's plan the whole time, and maybe the weed and talk of guitars was just a distraction. It's honest and vulnerable enough that it makes him feel a little honored that he held Steve’s trust. He can't say no to that, so he agrees before he can even ask about swimsuits.

Steve releases his knee and climbs out of the car, walking toward the Quarry with a look over his shoulder to check if Eddie's following. Eddie wipes the sweat from his brow and looks up just in time to see Steve removing his shirt.

He can't look away, and that's how he gets the shock of his life when Steve removes his jeans too.

“Oh- uh,” Eddie stutters.

Then, off goes the underwear and Eddie's got an eye full of a round, tan, Harrington ass.

At this point, the sun is setting and Eddie doubts anyone could see them in any amount of detail. But he doesn't know what to do with a naked hot dude right in front of him. Does he touch? He wants to touch. But Steve is confusing, and touching might not go well. Instead of standing around like a lovesick dumbass, Eddie wolf whistles and dramatically fans his face.

“Well, I'll be damned, Harrington. Maybe you're the extra large between the two of us!” he says, even though he can't actually see Steve's dick with him turned around. Steve completely ignores him.

“Come on!” he says, rushing toward the shoreline. Eddie quickly decides that he likes Steve enough to get naked with him, even if it's not in a sexy way. He kicks off his boots and leaps toward the water with a shout.

~.~.~

Steve’s got his head resting in the spot between Eddie's thigh and hip bone, competing for space next to his guitar as Eddie plucks away songs he knows he'd recognize.

“You're so talented,” Steve says, for the millionth time that night. He's repeating it over and over, pushing Eddie's ego sky high.

“I just play what I hear,” he says humbly.

“I can't even sing what I hear,” Steve says with a little laugh. He's got his legs hanging over the edge of the couch, feet tapping along to the best as Eddie plays.

“It's not that hard. I can show you, if you want,” Eddie says.

Steve looks up at him through his hair. “Really?”

“Get up, buttercup, and I'll give you a short lesson,” Eddie says.

Steve lifts himself away from Eddie and sits up on the couch, shoving Wayne's favorite pillow into the floor. Eddie decides the pillow can survive the disrespect and shoves the only remaining shard of his shattered musical soul into Steve's arms. Steve holds onto it like it's made of glass, which is a good first step in Eddie's opinion.

Eddie moves Steve's fingers into the correct position to play Yesterday, which is kind of setting a beginner up for failure with the bar chords.

“Move your other hand like this,” Eddie said, mimicking the strumming motion. Steve tries and fails. Eddie grabs his hand and tries to help, but he still doesn't get it. His brows are furrowed cutely as he focuses hard on the strings like they'll make it all work out for him.

“Let me show you,” Eddie says, pulling Steve so his back is pressed against Eddie's chest. He wraps his arms around him, pretending that being this close doesn't make him want to kiss the top of his shoulder and bear hug him until they fall asleep. He laces his fingers through Steve's, helping him feel exactly where to go.

“Your fingers go here, and your other hand moves like this,” he says over Steve's shoulder.

It's impractical and isn't teaching Steve anything. He just likes the feeling of Steve against him, the way he accepts Eddie's hands against his without any weird looks. Eddie hums the lyrics, a bit unable to stop himself because the song is a classic, until Steve lifts their hands away from the guitar and curls his fingers around Eddie's, looking at them closely. Steve pulls Eddie's hands close to his face and twists one of his rings, rubbing his thumb against the pad of Eddie's left pointer finger. He wishes he could see his expression.

“Is this what girls mean when they talk about guys that play guitar?” Steve finally asks.

Eddie laughs, sharp and loud, which makes Steve shoulder him away.

“Don't shout in my ear,” Steve complains.

Eddie scoots back on the couch, still laughing. Steve rolls his eyes and plucks at the guitar with his thumb.

“How often are girls telling you about guys that play guitar?”

“I mean, they talk,” Steve shrugs.

“Oh yeah? What do they say?” Eddie teases, “that you're not doing a good enough job?”

Steve looks up at him sharp. No smile.

“They tell me how it feels,” he says.

Eddie pauses, brains scrambled, because Now he's imagining Steve describing how it feels and it goes straight to his dick. Which is awkward because they're sharing the same couch and Eddie isn't exactly sitting with his legs crossed.

Still, he wants to know more.

“How- uh- what do they say? About how it feels?” he stammers, shifting a little further from Steve. He's feeling a little hot under the collar, and he knows he's really pushing the limits, but he can't help it. Not when Steve's right there, egging him on. Because that's what this is, right? He's not alone in this. Steve has to know what he's doing.

As if to answer Eddie's silent question, Steve scoots closer, squeezing the guitar between them as he leans in, face only a few inches from Eddie's. His knee is digging into Eddie's crotch. If he moves his hips, he's sure Steve would learn just how little Eddie’s playing around.

That makes him feel even hotter.

He can feel a puff of hair against his face as Steve laughs lightly, face splitting into a perfect, teasing smile. Steve grabs Eddie's hands and places them around the guitar, fingers brushing against his forehead a moment longer than necessary.

“I don't kiss and tell, Munson,” he says, and then he gets off the couch, leaving Eddie hard as a rock.

~.~.~

Sometimes, Steve spends the night. He falls asleep after an hour of whispering nonsense back and forth in the dark, with his back pressed against Eddie's chest, arms curled close to his body. Then Eddie wakes up to see that Steve is already gone, like the shared heat on the mattress is just a figment of his imagination.

He tries not to let himself think it means anything. He always stays awake a moment longer, always lingering on the man in bed next to him, wondering when he'll finally be sure enough to put himself out of his misery by leaning over for a kiss.

Then, at least he'll know what this is.

This time, Eddie wakes up and it's still dark out. Someone is touching him. He turns and sees a figure in his bed, the blankets pooled around their waist.

“Eddie?” Steve asks sleepily.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

Now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, he can see the outline of the moon leaning through the window blinds, turning Steve's hair stark white where the light hits it.

“You were having a nightmare,” Steve says, placing a hand on Eddie's chest. Eddie can feel his heart, frantic and stressed, under Steve's hand. “Are you ok?”

“I'm fine. I don't even remember it,” Eddie says.

Steve slumps down next to him and leans in. Something brushes against Eddie's cheek, something soft and sweet, so quick that Eddie nearly thinks he's dreamt it up-

A kiss.

Steve just kissed him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, rolling over like it was nothing. Like he didn't just steal Eddie's heart through his lips. Eddie roughly grabs Steve and hugs him from behind, pulling him as close as possible. He wants to merge into one with this man. He wants signs of Steve across every inch of his skin. Steve makes a sleepy noise of protest, but lets it all happen, and Eddie falls asleep happy with no room for nightmares anymore.

~.~.~

“Who the fuck is that?” Eddie asks, nose scrunched up with disgust. He's just entered Steve's house for some pool party the kids bullied him into hosting, and was instantly met with the most irritating sight he's ever laid eyes upon- a handsome stranger hanging off Steve's shoulder.

“Oh, it's Steve's friend from Italy. Gabriel,” Robin says with a roll of her eyes. “I didn't even know he had friends.”

“Hey, he has us! And the kids!” Eddie says, trying to pretend he isn't watching Steve like a hawk.

“You know what I mean,” Robins says.

Gabriel.

Fucking Gabriel.

Eddie watches as Steve lingers around this other man. This man and his curly brown hair, lightly tanned skin, muscular body, and soft blue eyes. This man and his touchy hands that linger along Steve's body like they're glued together, playfully grabbing at Steve's sunglasses.

“How long has he known him?” Eddie asks defensively. He crosses his arms across his cropped Dio shirt, suddenly feeling a little inadequate in the presence of fucking Michelangelo over there.

“Since they were kids,” Robin shrugs.

Eddie's heart feels tight. He's sure he's going to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West, or something equally dramatic. Because Steve is up and close in this random man's space, in a swimsuit nonetheless, showing off his hairy tits and chatting it up like it was totally normal to be practically in someone's lap.

Which, it was.

Between them.

Some girl Eddie doesn't recognize is laughing it up with Nancy and Jonathan off to the side. She's equally gorgeous and Eddie knows right away that she must have come from Italy too.

Since when did Steve go to Italy? Was this some rich boy shit he'd never learned about?

“Eddie's here!” Dustin yells from the pool. Eddie's saved from having to fake happiness around the kids by Mike tackling Dustin from behind. He's probably drowning or something, but Eddie's not too concerned because somewhere, music is getting louder and fucking Gabriel is pulling Steve up to dance. Steve and Gabriel move like it's second nature, laughing and a little too close, a little too much hip movement for it to be guys being guys.

Eddie didn't know Steve could dance. He didn't even know Steve liked disco.

Why does it suddenly feel like he doesn't know Steve at all?

“Whoo! Those two are always like that,” the pretty girl says with a lazy smile. Nancy and Jonathan don't seem too shocked to see Steve acting like this, which is another sign that Eddie is a gullible fool.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks. She sounds worried. Eddie's not looking at her. He's watching Steve plant a kiss on Gabriel's cheek after their stupid little dance stops.

Eddie isn't alright.

He feels like an idiot.

He thought they had something special, but it turns out that Steve is just…like that.

He turns and walks into the kitchen, so he can work through his shame in peace. That way, he can behave like a normal human long enough to make an excuse and leave in favor of crying into his ratty trailer pillow that probably still smells like Steve and his stupid hairspray.

“Whoa, what's wrong?” someone asks.

It's Steve, of course. He's standing at the kitchen door, looking at Eddie with genuine concern. His sunglasses are pushed into his hair, artfully keeping it out of his face. He looks behind himself and closes the door before walking up to Eddie, getting in his space.

Eddie steps back.

“I didn't see you get here. You look sick, are you ok?” he asks.

Eddie wants to say that he's fine, but looking into Steve's eyes makes everything worse. Much to his horror, he feels a lump forming in his throat and a familiar burn forming in his eyes. He tries to blink it away, but that just makes a premature tear roll down his cheek.

Fuck.

Steve steps even closer and lifts his hands to Eddie's face, gently holding him, brushing the tear away with his thumb. And now that it's started, he can't make it stop. Eddie starts to cry even harder.

“Is it Wayne? Did something happen at the trailer?” Steve's asking, appearing to genuinely care.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Are you hurt?”

“No!”

“Did someone-”

“No, no, no! Steve, just stop!” Eddie says, elbowing his way free from Steve's grasp. He feels a little bad about it, when he sees how hurt Steve looks. But he feels too shitty to care much about anything at the moment.

“You're crying, Eddie. Can't I help?”

“You've done enough, honestly,” Eddie says.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“Dude, are you really that dense?”

Steve kind of shutters at that, and then Eddie really feels bad. He's made an ass of himself and now he's being an ass too.

“Just- stop, ok? Go back to your Italian boyfriend,” Eddie says.

“Huh? Gabe?” Steve asks.

Oh, so they have nicknames now?

“Whatever his name is,” Eddie grumbles, even though he knows it's going to be impossible for him to forget that name for the rest of his life.

Steve scoffs for a second and then shakes his head. “Are you mad that I have other friends?”

Eddie can't believe it. It's the worst case scenario. Steve didn't know. Somehow, Steve was completely oblivious to Eddie's feelings. There was no game between them. Eddie had made it all up in his head. Steve's just an oblivious flirt. He was matching Eddie's weird, lovesick energy.

God, how embarrassing.

“No, Steve,” Eddie says, already done with the conversation and ready for the consequences, “I'm mad that you're flirting with this dude after weeks of flirting with me!”

Steve looks shocked. Like he would've expected maybe a week after the upside down, back before this all began and he didn't know Steve that well. Turns out, he never knew Steve.

He just thought he did.

“I- I wasn't flirting with you,” Steve says with a nervous little laugh.

“You slept in my bed and kissed me on the cheek. You rubbed your knee against my dick during our guitar lesson.”

Steve's just staring at him like all of this was in Eddie's head, which makes him feel even more defensive.

“You said you knew how it felt to get fingered!” he hisses.

Steve's cheeks go bright red.

“Oh my God, I've been flirting with you,” he says. He lifts a hand to his forehead, like the information is too much for his head to handle.

“You also- well- I mean…yes?” Eddie says, not really sure what's happening anymore. He's so confused that his tears have stopped. Steve takes a step closer.

“You've been flirting with me,” he says, pointing at Eddie.

Eddie nods.

“And I've been flirting with you,” he says, pointing at himself.

Eddie nods again.

“I was flirting with Gabriel! Do you think he's into me?” he asks, pointing at the kitchen door.

Eddie's frown is severe.

“Sorry, no. Forget I said that. Eddie, I think I have a crush on you,” Steve says with wonder in his voice.

It's Eddie's turn to blush now. He's witnessing Steve realize he's into men. Specifically, that he's into Eddie. Steve paces around the kitchen, combing a hand through his hair in that way he always does when he's thinking hard about something. Eddie recognizes it because he does know Steve, after all. Maybe a little better than Steve knows himself. Steve's cheeks are still bright red and he's breathing kind of weird. It's very strange, to watch someone come out to themselves.

And then Steve starts to cry.

Eddie rushes forward just as Steve leans back against the countertop and curls into himself.

“Hey, no, no, no, it's ok. You're still you,” he says, pulling Steve into a hug.

What the fuck is happening?

“I made you cry,” Steve says.

“It's ok,” Eddie says, rubbing his back, “you'll get used to it.”

“I don't want to get used to making you cry!” Steve whisper-shouts.

“No, I mean that you'll get used to being into men,” Eddie says.

Steve pushes Eddie back a hair and looks him in the eyes.

“Why would I need to get used to it? It's obviously true. I'm upset because I've been such a dick to you,” he says softly.

Eddie just stares at him. He wonders if Steve is ok. Maybe this is what a breakdown looks like? Funny, how quick their mental states flipped during this conversation.

“Steve, it's ok to freak out a little. When I first realized I was into men, I cried until I threw up,” Eddie says.

Steve leans in and kisses him on the cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. It's so light and quick that for a moment, Eddie's not even sure that it happened. It makes his heart flip twice over.

“I'm not freaking out. I'm just trying to figure out how to make it up to you.”

Eddie lifts an eyebrow. Steve's fully serious. He's dried his face and is wrapping his arms around Eddie's back, brushing his hands against the belt loops in his jeans.

“Wow, you're serious. You genuinely-”

Eddie's cut off as Steve pulls him into a real kiss. The kind of kiss he'd seen in movies, sweet but also kind of hot. Eddie wants more. He crowds Steve against the countertop and runs his hands down over that ass he couldn't stop thinking about since seeing it in person, grabs his thighs just under his swim trunks and lifts, pushing their bodies as close as possible.

Steve has one hand tangled in Eddie's hair, steering his head to the side, and another gripping around his back pocket, pulling Eddie's hips right into his.

Eddie can't believe it. Steve's kissing him. He's rolling his hips into him.

Steve chose him over fucking Gabe!

Steve pulls their bodies even closer than Eddie thought possible, and Eddie can feel every detail of his dick hardening against him through his jeans. It leaves him breathless, desperate to drop his hands from Steve's warm torso and under that swimsuit so he can feel it in more detail. Steve's not so shy. He's driving Eddie crazy with his hand sliding around his zipper, lifting up to the hem and back down again.

“Eddie,” Steve gasps into his mouth as he starts fumbling with the button.

Eddie’s experiencing something religious with Steve's tongue when a shout breaks them apart.

Eddie leaps halfway across the room before bothering to look around to check that nobody is there. He turns back to Steve, who's watching him carefully.

“I think it's just the kids. We should probably go back outside,” he says.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees reluctantly. Based on the look Steve's sending his way, he feels the same. He jumps down from the counter and walks over to the door, then pauses.

He turns to Eddie and says, “You should sleep over tonight.”

“Ok,” Eddie says, feeling his cheeks go warm again as he tries not to assume anything after an afternoon of assuming things, “I like your guest room, it's got a really comfortable mattress-”

“In my bed,” Steve clarifies.

“Ok!” Eddie squeaks. “I could run home and grab something to sleep in-”

“Naked,” Steve says bluntly. Then he seems to realize something, because he looks away from Eddie like he's embarrassed. “I mean, unless you don't want that. No pressure. I have something you can borrow-”

“I want that,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve smiles. He flicks his sunglasses back over his eyes and leans in to kiss Eddie one last time, short, and promising more for later. As he opens the door, Eddie spots Gabe lounging around with that pretty girl and gets an idea. He shoves past Steve and smacks his ass on the way by, smiling at Gabe, just to cement his victory.

“Damn Harrington, feels as good as it looks,” he says. Gabe looks completely confused. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Don't get addicted,” Steve says.

#steddie #im blushing

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