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elf scare

for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 1 prompt, Jingle Bells, and @25daysofwhumpmas day 1 prompt, smoke/fire. Rating: T; CW, none; Tags: no upside down au, enemies to lovers, mom steve harrington, fluff, idiots in love; WC: 983. Read on Ao3

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“Hell yeah, Baby! This holiday season’s gonna be legendary.”

Eddie had rarely pissed himself laughing so hard. Okay, being one of Santa’s elves at Starcourt wasn’t a dream gig. Till Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington turned up as his co-Santa’s-helper and Eddie’s seasonal cheer skyrocketed.

Harrington clamped hands on hips. “You look equally absurd!”

He wasn’t wrong.

They both wore green elf-costumes—with jingly bells on their dumb little caps, beneath which Eddie crammed the bulk of his hair. That said, unlike Harrington’s, Eddie’s stripy top didn’t ride up, revealing glimpses of ‘happy trail.’ Had he deliberately cut it short?!?

“C’mon, Munson. Admit it. After you strutted your stuff in all that… dungeon shit and chains. This must be torture, huh?” Steve hugged his fascinatingly bare midriff.

“Liked what you saw back then, doll?” Eddie blew a kiss.

Shockingly, Steve didn’t punch his lights out.

In fact, Eddie swore he turned a shade pinker beneath his rosy-pink rouge, before rolling his eyes and reaching for Eddie’s cap: ‘May I?”

“Uh… yeah?”

Steve was already rearranging Eddie’s rogue tresses: “Jesus, haircare not your bag? Hey, there’s scrunchies in the lucky dip. I’ll grab one, tame this jungle.”

He did, setting both their caps jingling ‘hilariously.’ Eddie found himself dabbing Steve smudged make-up, silently conceding Steve looked cute.

While they smirked at each other.

So, it began.

Their main task was dispensing candy and supervising the queue for Santa. Between glares and poked-out tongues, they fell into a rhythm. Eddie goofed around with excitable kids. Steve variously bossed, scolded, and turned ‘mom’ for the nervous tots who took one look at Eddie’s demonic-pixie grin and whimpered.

“Seriously?” bitched Steve, as Eddie and two manic kiddos zipped around Santa’s life-size velour reindeers: “You’re revving them up way worse than the candy.”

“It’s Chriiiiistmaaaaaas!” yelled Eddie, who despised holiday season. “Don’t yuck on our yum, Princess Elf. Oh, fu… yuck!”

An eight-year-old hurled on Eddie’s velvet slippers. Steve located the parents, then stoically did the honors with the mop and bucket.

Puke aside, Eddie had a blast. He and Steve got chummy with staff and customers alike—tho’ neither of them managed to charm an elderly lady nicknamed ‘Granny Meow,’ who often sat near the grotto with an enormous tabbycat in her buggy, both glowering for no apparent reason.

For Eddie, nothing beat the evenings after Starcourt closed. He and Steve headed up to the roof with snacks. They lay there, elfed-to-the-max, stargazing and waiting for security to shoo them.

“I freakin’ hate Christmas,” Steve admitted one night. “Honestly, this shitty job beats my parents’ soirees.”

“I feel ya. Wayne and I break out the finest herbs and ignore this shit together.”

Tho’ I do kinda enjoy dressing up as a nerdy elf with you…

“Class act. Wish I could join you,” Steve said, joking… right? He sounded oddly wistful. Eddie’s heart panged. He glanced sidelong at Steve, who glanced sidelong at Eddie. Eddie swore the milkyway glittered across Steve’s pretty eyes as he sucked that brightly glossed lower lip.

He needed to suck it so bad.

“M-and-M?” Eddie grabbed the half-empty packet and practically stuffed it up Steve’s nose.

As December crept onward, Eddie started counting down the days to Christmas. Not because he wanted this over.

Nope, he knew he’d miss Steve, like, WTF?

Then, on Christmas Eve with the mall packed, the fire alarm sounded. Steve and Eddie—fire wardens as well as elves—sprang into action like the well-oiled machine they’d become.

Steve cleared the left of Santas grotto, Eddie the right. Having liaised via walkie talky, they met at the fire-exit. “You got Granny Meow out?” yelled Steve, above the ongoing alarm.

“You didn’t?”

“Crap! We can’t sign off zone 12 without her or her damn cat.”

“There’s smoke, Steve! There’s a real fire somewhere.” Eddie grabbed Steve, kinda wanted to shake him. If there was danger, they were supposed to leave, informing the fire brigade of anyone stuck inside.

Steve tugged free, heading back into the mall. Eddie tailed him, face shielded behind his cap to protect from any fumes.

Granny Meow had gotten confused and wandered into the grotto. Eddie guided her out, with Steve—battling with an angry cat, who’d been trying to make his escape in the wrong direction—trailing.

Eddie’s heart pounded in his throat, listening intently to the jingling of Steve’s bells. He prayed to whatever God of Metal would listen that they’d keep ringing, that the dude he’d fallen in love with wouldn’t stumble and fall behind…

Wtf… WTF?

What felt like a lifetime later, they sat on the back of an ambulance, variously passing the oxygen supply between them and choking up ash. Steve got his cat-savaged arm bandaged. Eddie dabbed the smut from Steve’s face. Steve sniffed and bitched and picked cinders from Eddie’s hair. Chief Hopper chewed their heads off for being ‘reckless morons’ and then slapped their backs for being ‘insanely brave.’

Beneath the foil blanket they’d gotten wrapped around the two of them, Eddie’s fingertips found Steve’s. They touched, just barely, then intertwined, before wringing each other so tight Eddie’s tingling fingers went numb.

“Guess that’s that,” sighed Steve, who, as always since the second day, gave Eddie a ride home. “Santa’s Grotto is toast.”

“Plus side? Our costumes are pretty much toast too.” Eddie’s attempted whoop of triumph fizzled to silence.

“You just… never looked as douchey as you should’ve in it,” said Steve, staring ahead, knuckles of his non-bandaged hand whitened about the steering wheel. “First ten minutes, it really pissed me off.”

“You looked stupid hot, you son-of-a-bitch.” Eddie hooted, failing to match Steve’s super-sincerity. “Hey, did I tell you we do a kickass Christmas Eve soiree chez Munson?”

Steve looked up sharply, face lighting like a Christmas tree. He leaned in across the gear-lever, and Eddie grabbed him and kissed him, hard.

“Jesus,” panted Steve, five-minutes of face-sucking later, “thought you’d never ask.”

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