Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
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FAQ
What's going on here?
We're attempting to create a collaborative fanfic experience for our beloved ship. Have you ever read a fic and yelled at your phone screen for the characters to do something? Then this might be just the thing for you.
How does this work?
We're writing a fic starting with the Steddie setup chosen by the people. After each short piece published, there is a 1-week poll for YOU to decide what a character says or does next. Kind of like a choose your own adventure book, or an RPG quest.
The top voted choice impacts what happens next in the fic. Things could go fluffy, angsty, smutty, fast and hard or slow and painful, it will all be up to you.
Who is running this madness?
@corrodedbisexual & @sidekick-hero, at your service.
Firstly: so sorry for no installments for so long. Had to take an extended break from online life/fandom. Secondly: yes I know people expected to see the date in this installment but the writing got away from me sooo this is a bit of a filler. Hope you still enjoy. Romantic date's coming up in part 15! -Konst
Steve’s kind of gotten used to being mostly invisible at school after losing his “crown”. Despite his worst expectations, falling down the social ladder didn’t make him a bullying target; Hargrove, actually, was the only one who’s made some mild attempts to rile him up, but when Steve didn’t bite, he quickly lost interest. And it’s not like anyone deliberately ignored him; he could strike up a casual conversation with classmates at the cafeteria, he could ask to borrow a pen or what today’s test was going to be on, and nobody treated him like a pariah.
But when he moved through the corridors, people would just walk right by, rarely looking in his direction. This, he realized, is actually what school life is like for most people. This is normal. And normal, really, wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so miserably lonely. Sure, people talked to him, but it was always brief, if pleasant, conversations before they’d inevitably leave with their established circle of friends Steve didn’t really fit into.
This was another awkward realization for him, that he never really learned how to make friends. Never really needed to. Friends, or what he thought of as friends at the time, just appeared around him in the locker room and followed him around afterwards.
Except for… well.
To be honest, Steve’s not even sure if Eddie counts as him making a friend. He doesn’t even know what they are, really, following the whole bizarre whirlwind of this weekend’s events, with more boldness and less freaking out on his part than he’d have expected. But it’s the first genuine connection he’s made with another person (children do not count, thank you very much) since he met Nancy; so whatever comes of it (flirting? potentially dating, holy shit?), as of this Monday, Munson’s is the only face in this entire school he’s been looking forward to seeing.
And speak of the devil, Steve thinks, not bothering to conceal a grin spreading on his face as he spots the familiar mop of dark curly hair under a pair of headphones, bobbing to (probably deafeningly loud) music as Munson makes his way towards the lockers. Steve grabs his bag and scrambles to follow.
“Hey,” he says grinning, leaning against the locker next to the one Eddie’s rummaging through. Just as expected, he can hear the metal riffs blasting through Munson’s headphones from a few feet away, so he reaches for the boy’s elbow to catch his attention; but Eddie must have noticed him, meeting his eyes and pulling his headphones down around his neck in one jerky motion, before Steve’s hand even makes contact.
“Uhm. Hi, Steve.”
Steve can’t quite read the guy’s expression. There’s a hint of a smile there, for sure, but the rest of his face looks guarded, and almost… bewildered. It’s only when Munson’s eyes shift to look around that Steve gets it.
Eddie Munson’s always been a special brand of invisible. With his reputation (much of which, Steve’s been learning, is a whole lot of bullshit), people outside of his dungeon-game clique tended to stay away, pretended not to pay him any attention, even when he was stomping around making loud speeches, but were always aware of his presence in the room. Even the jocks, whatever ugly shit they let themselves say behind Munson’s back, didn’t fuck with him, half being his regular customers and the other half secretly terrified of him. While Steve, following his downfall, felt like a leaf floating down the river of people as he walked through the school, Eddie Munson was a giant rock that waves of students would part around.
And however little mind the students paid Steve lately, him talking to Munson immediately drew some curious glances, the way any disruption to the school’s everyday ecosystem tended to do. Not like everyone dropped what they were doing to stare, but the attention is definitely there, numerous sideways looks and hushed whispers. Something new, a potential for gossip.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Eddie asks quietly as he meets Steve’s eyes again, confirming his suspicions as to why Munson’s being kind of weird.
Steve chuckles, kicking lightly at the toe of Eddie’s shoe.
“Since when does Eddie frigging Munson care what’s a good idea or not?”
Eddie’s expression remains skeptical, but his posture seems to relax a little, the corners of his lips curling just a tad more. He mirrors Steve’s pose, leaning against his own locker, loudly clanging the door of it shut in the process. He juts a hip out as he hooks one Reebok-clad foot around the other ankle, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.
“I’ll have you know, my ideas are always excellent, even if the general audience fails to appreciate them.”
“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, amused, crossing his arms against his chest. “I still remember the sophomore year locker room stink bomb. I don’t know if my nose is capable of ever forgetting, actually.”
Eddie bats his eyes, mock-innocent.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Harrington,” he says before immediately breaking into an absolutely shit-eating grin.
Steve ducks his head for a second, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck, because… well, it’s not like it’s the first time Eddie smiled at him, but somehow, this is the moment his brain decided to formulate a semi-coherent opinion on that. ‘Dimples. Cute.’
“I’m serious, though.” Eddie rolls his eyes and at the same time, subtly nods his head to a group of Steve’s former teammates; thankfully, sans Billy. “See the vultures circling? Really good at smelling blood.”
“I’ll be careful not to bleed, then,” Steve replies casually, eyes suddenly meeting Tommy’s, who actually has the decency to look away then and pretend to be listening to what another guy in their circle is saying.
“Oh, your reputation’s bleeding all over the floor as we speak.”
Steve snorts, turning to look back at Eddie.
“Flattering of you to think I still have a reputation here.”
“It’s more like the kind of reputation you don’t have, Steve,” Eddie says in a low, careful voice.
Steve’s not stupid, okay. He knows exactly what Munson’s talking about. And the fact that Eddie’s warning him… well, it’s kind of touching, but mostly, it just makes him angry. Not at Eddie, obviously.
“Well, I don’t give a shit,” he deadpans. “I’m not gonna pretend at school that I don’t even know you. That’s just dumb, Eddie. What do you always say, fuck forced conformity, right?”
Eddie blinks at him, looking genuinely impressed.
“Damn. Your funeral, Harrington,” he concludes with a shrug and a soft, warm smile on his lips that makes something squeeze inside Steve’s chest.
“So, uh…” Steve clears his throat and hoists the bag that’s started to slide back up his shoulder. “You taking Math?” He asks to change the topic, even though he knows already that Eddie's in his next class. He pays attention, okay?
“Unfortunately.” Eddie stares into the distance for a second. “Ah shit, we had homework, didn’t we.”
“Unfortunately,” Steve parrots him, chuckling and already reaching for his bag’s zipper, ready to offer his own homework to copy from while Munson hurriedly opens his locker again.
Steve peeks inside for a second; it looks like a tornado has passed through its contents, and yet it only takes Eddie a moment to grab the right workbook and slam the door shut again. He slides down to the floor, fishing a pencil from one of his jacket pockets as he glances at his watch.
“I’ve got… about nine minutes, alright, could be worse,” Eddie mumbles as he flips through the pages and finds the assigned problems, all circled from previous class but otherwise untouched.
Steve crouches to sit next to him, his own workbook in hand, but he pauses before offering it to Eddie as he watches him write an answer to the first problem. His eyes widen, darting between the side of Munson’s eyebrow-furrowed face and the page.
“Did you just do that… in your head?”
“Mhm,” Eddie responds distractedly.
“I mean. That’s… wow. But you do know you’re supposed to write out the equations or you’re not getting above a C, right?”
“Eh,” Eddie shrugs, chewing at his pencil for a moment over the next problem before quickly jotting down the answer. (Steve glances at his own workbook. It’s the same.) “C’s a passing grade.”
“Yeah, but like… holy shit, if you’re this good, you could easily have an A in this class!”
Eddie sighs, clearly frustrated, although it doesn’t seem to be directed at Steve’s inquiries.
“Nah. I never could, because the old hag hates my guts. You don’t think I tried? She’d always find ways to deduct points, for too many corrections, or illegible handwriting, or some other bullshit. The only thing she can’t do is fail me for giving correct answers, so I’m doing the bare minimum.”
There’s a lot of things Steve could say. That their teacher’s an asshole, that the school system is fucked, that Eddie deserves to get fair marks for his work. Somehow though, he doesn’t think any of these would make the boy feel better. So as he watches Eddie fill one answer after the next, he blurts out the next best thing that comes to mind, making sure to keep his voice down.
“Not gonna lie, this is kinda hot.”
“Huh?” Eddie looks up in utter disbelief. He presses a fist against his mouth, coughing up what sounds suspiciously like a giggle. “What?”
“This.” Steve points to the workbook, grinning. “You know I used to date a nerd, right? Apparently, I have a type.” Strangely, it only stings a little, mentioning Nancy.
Mumbling something like “what the actual fuck, Harrington” under his breath, Eddie hunches over his homework again, pulling a strand of hair to the front and chewing on the tips. It does as good a job of hiding his face as revealing a bright pink eartip.
Steve’s tempted to tease him a little further; glancing around, he notes that nobody’s paying them any attention anymore. Clearly, people were expecting more of a spectacle than what appeared like a casual, boring conversation about homework, and by now they’ve completely lost interest and moved on. Good. Looks like Eddie was being a bit overdramatic with the whole bleeding reputation concept.
Still, he’s not so careless as to blatantly keep flirting with the guy in the middle of the school corridor; so he just watches in silence as Eddie finishes the last few problems. A few minutes later, when Eddie snaps his workbook shut and raises his head, he’s smiling almost shyly, the residue of an obvious flush he’s been hiding still visible on his cheeks.
“About… you know, what I promised. Full disclosure, I’ve got something planned, but I was half convinced you’ve changed your mind until, uh…” He waves his hand vaguely at Steve, chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Jesus,” he mutters, then takes a deep breath, clearly gearing up for the question that comes. “You got plans tonight?”
“Looks like I do now”, Steve replies, easy as breathing, a pleasant, joyful warmth settling in his chest.
Holy shit, this is actually happening. He’s gonna go out with a guy. A cute, funny, smart as hell guy, and Steve might have convinced himself a couple of days ago that this was mere curiosity, but he’s quickly moved past that. He’s excited, as excited as he’s ever been to go out with a girl.
Eddie’s responding grin is almost blinding; just then, the bell rings, but that doesn’t stop him from quickly blurting out as they scramble upwards, his eyes wide and sparkling, “Pick you up at your place around six? There’s some stuff I gotta get ready.”
Steve nods, taking advantage of the commotion around them to quickly squeeze the other boy's wrist before following the crowd inside.
Since the upcoming date has already been voted for (and it's coming!!), here's a little specific character choice poll for this part that will impact the plot down the line. 😈
A single pair of eyes in the crowd lands on Harrington's fingers wrapped around Munson's wrist. It's a quick, blink-and-you-miss it moment, but Tommy Hagan has been stealthily watching the odd pair for the past ten minutes, increasingly bewildered by what he's been seeing.
Does Steve really think he's being subtle? And really, with the goddamn Freak, of all people? Guess two beatings weren't enough to knock some sense into his former friend.
Just then, Tommy hears footsteps running and then a sound of panting right over his shoulder. It's Billy, of course, almost late to class as usual because he's been out smoking.
"What's that serious mug for, huh, Tommy-boy? What'd I miss?"
Tommy...
turns to Billy and smirks. "Guess who Harrington's fucking these days?"
hesitates, then shakes his head. "Nothing. Come on, let's get to class."
Heads up: rating going up to Explicit for this installment!
Eddie is still reeling from his day at Steve's. He curses himself for letting his uncle get to his head and buying condoms when Steve clearly wasn't thinking about them hooking up. On the other hand, he wonders if he could have gotten Steve to admit out loud that while he didn't want to sleep with Eddie yet, he was still interested in him.
Steve Harrington wants to take it slow with Eddie Munson.
Eddie wants to take one of those expensive-looking throw pillows, bury his face in it, and scream. Giggle and kick his feet. Because the prettiest boy he's ever seen wants him. Not even the box of condoms seems to have scared him off, although Eddie is still worried that Steve might think Eddie just wants sex. Which, yes, he does. Anyone with eyes who is even slightly attracted to guys would want that, but Eddie wants more than that.
God, he hopes Steve wants that too.
"Hey. I can still hear you overthinking."
With a small chuckle, Eddie thinks Steve should get used to it. Overthinking is one of his many talents, along with spiraling, rambling, and not thinking before he speaks.
He keeps sneaking glances at Steve, trying to gauge what the guy is thinking, while also trying to look like he's engrossed in whatever's happening on the TV in front of them.
"I just, uh... I'm trying to make sure I don't fuck up here, so... If you say you want to take it slow..." Eddie chews his lip. "How slow are we talking?"
Steve clearly wasn't expecting the question, but to his credit, he barely flinches before recovering quickly.
"Well, I definitely enjoy being wined and dined before I put out," Steve tells him with a grin. Which, okay, honestly surprises him, because according to the Hawkins High rumor mill, Steve Harrington loves to put out. No wining and dining required.
As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he berates himself for it. He knows what the general population of Hawkins High thinks and says about him, and not even half of it is true. And even if it is true and Steve does like to sleep around, who is he to judge him? If Steve wants to be wined and dined, then Eddie thinks he deserves it. He deserves to be treated like the catch he is.
"Oh yeah, of course! I'm not a complete savage," he says, and goes on to list some places he could take Steve. There aren't many that come to mind, to be honest, because for one thing, they're in Hawkins, not Indy. That means the choices are limited as it is, and even more so for two guys. On top of that, he's not exactly rolling in money. But maybe he could contact some of his regulars, see if they need a little extra.
Steve just looks at him with an amused and, dare Eddie say, fond smile on his pretty face as Eddie rambles on.
"How about we start with a movie night at my place?" Steve suggests. "We can order takeout, relax, and just, y'know, talk. Hang out. It doesn't have to be a big deal." Eddie's heart races at the thought of another night with Steve, just the two of them in this big, empty house. No one to interrupt or judge. But that's not what Eddie wants for their first date, and he can't help but smile back at Steve.
Because Steve deserves this to be a big deal.
"That sounds amazing, Steve, really," Eddie says, "but I want to plan a date for us. You deserve to be treated right, and I wanna be the one doing that." His voice is filled with determination, and he hopes Steve can see how much he means it.
Steve looks at Eddie, clearly touched by his earnestness. "You really want to do that for me?" he asks quietly and Eddie feels even more guilty about his initial thoughts about Steve. He clearly didn't expect anyone to go out of their way for him, and that's just sad. He doesn't advocate it, but Eddie is a romantic at heart. Love was always the theme of so many of the stories his mama read to him as a child, and he inherited her soft heart.
"Of course I do," Eddie replies without hesitation. "I want to make this special for both of us."
Steve's eyes soften, and he rewards Eddie with a chaste kiss on the cheek. The warmth of Steve's lips lingers on Eddie's skin, making his heart flutter even more. "Thank you, Eddie," Steve whispers, his voice filled with affection.
As Eddie says goodbye and drives back home, he can't stop grinning. The kiss, though simple, feels like a promise of something beautiful to come. He can’t wait to sweep Steve Harrington off his feet.
When he gets home, he runs into Wayne, who's just leaving for his shift.
"Home already, Eds? Your boy not treatin' you right?" Wayne asks gruffly, and Eddie rolls his eyes good-naturedly. He can count on his uncle to make him feel loved and embarrassed at the same time.
"He's not my boy," Eddie reflexively deflects, before remembering Steve's words and the soft press of his lips against his cheek. He decides to keep what happened between them to himself, at least for now. Until he can be sure that Steve really is 'his boy'.
Wayne hums noncommittally. "Sure, Eds, whatever you say. Just remember to be safe, son. Don't want you to get hurt."
"I will, Uncle Wayne, don't worry about me."
"I'll always worry about you, Eds. Nothing to be done 'bout it, so don't go 'round givin' me any more gray hairs."
With that, his uncle steps out of the trailer and leaves. Wayne isn't one for heartfelt declarations, but he never lets Eddie forget that he loves him.
Humming a tune under his breath, Eddie goes about his evening. There's some chili in the fridge with a note from Wayne saying it's for Eddie, so he heats it up and digs in. With his stomach full of chili and his head full of thoughts about the former king of Hawkins High, Eddie falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Eddie finds himself sitting at a beautifully set table in an upscale restaurant, the kind with crystal chandeliers and a live string quartet playing softly in the background. The kind of place he could never afford but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter. Steve sits across from him, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever, his smile warm and inviting. The ambiance is perfect, and Eddie feels a mix of excitement and nervousness about their upcoming date.
As they chat, the waiter approaches their table with a covered silver platter. Eddie's stomach flutters with anticipation, expecting a gourmet meal. The waiter places the platter in front of them and, with a flourish, lifts the lid. Instead of a delicious entrée, the platter holds a pile of condoms, glistening under the dim light.
Eddie's eyes widen in horror. "Oh my God, this isn't what I ordered!" he stammers, his face flushing crimson. He tries to push the platter away, but it seems stuck to the table. "I swear, Steve, this isn't what I meant to—"
Steve leans back in his chair, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Are you sure, Eddie? Then why are you naked?"
Eddie's heart pounds as he looks down at himself. To his utter dismay, he realizes he is completely naked, sitting in the middle of the restaurant. He frantically tries to cover himself with the napkin, but it is too small to hide his embarrassment. The other diners turn to look at him, their eyes wide with shock and amusement. Fingers point, whispers grow louder, and the quartet's melody seems to mock him with every note.
He looks back at Steve, who is now chuckling softly, seemingly unfazed by the absurdity of the situation. Eddie's cheeks burn hotter, and he feels like sinking into the floor. "Steve, I—" he begins, but the words catch in his throat as the laughter from the surrounding tables grows louder.
Just as the humiliation reaches its peak, Eddie jolts awake, his heart racing and his body drenched in a cold sweat. He sits up in bed, breathing heavily, his mind reeling from the vivid nightmare. He glances around his room, reassuring himself that he is safe, clothed, and very much alone.
"Just a dream," he mutters to himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. But the anxiety lingers, a reminder of how much this date means to him and the pressure he feels to make it perfect. He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment, and lies back down, hoping for a dreamless sleep.
He's naked again, he knows that right away, but at least he's not in a fancy restaurant. Or any public place, really. He's in the back of a car, it seems. An expensive one, with dark leather seats that cling to his bare buttocks and thighs.
When he looks down, Steve is kneeling between his thighs, wedged into the small space between the back and front seats. He appears to be naked as well, but Eddie can't see much more than his broad, freckled shoulders, muscular arms, and wide hands resting on his thighs. The sun-kissed hue of his skin is a stark contrast to the creamy white of Eddie's own, and the image causes heat to pool in his stomach.
"Steve?" he asks dumbly, because didn't Steve want to take it slow? Or is this Steve's idea of slow?
"Shh, baby, it's okay," Steve coos at him and a shiver runs through him at the sound of the word 'baby' in Steve's husky voice. "I'm going to make it good for you. I'm going to take it real slow until you're begging me to let you come."
Fuck, Eddie thinks, or maybe he said it out loud, because the sinful smile on Steve's face changes to a teasing grin.
"You like that, baby? The king on his knees for you, ready to suck you off? You want to come on my face, don't you? The Freak painting the King's face with his cum, what a picture that would be."
Eddie moans deeply, like he's wounded, like it hurts. And it does, he's so hard, the second those wicked lips touch his cock he's going to come, he knows it. He wants to warn Steve, he wants to tell him that Eddie meant it, he wants to take it slow, get to know Steve. He wants to kiss him, his mouth the first thing those lips he has dreamed of so often touch, not his cock.
But it's too late, the wet heat of Steve's mouth devours him, heaven and hell, elation and damnation.
He comes with a scream, jolting awake in his own bed, disoriented. It's mid-morning, judging by the dim light filtering into his room, and he's painfully hard. Eddie's no stranger to wet dreams, he's a healthy teenage boy, but something about the sight of Steve between his spread legs has seared itself into his brain.
Before he can feel guilty, he yanks his blanket and boxers down in one motion and takes himself in his hands. His dick is already wet from all the pre-cum leaking profusely from his cockhead and he uses the liquid to ease the friction of skin against skin.
Stroking himself in the way he knows makes him come hard and fast, he thinks of Steve. His mouth, his hands, his droopy eyes that he has learned are hazel when you get close enough to fall into them.
It's over in a dozen strokes and he can't even be embarrassed. The guilt comes back though, because Steve wants to take it slow and here he is, dreaming about the other boy sucking him off.
This only strengthens his resolve to treat Steve right, to plan a perfect, romantic date for the two of them.
Picnic by the Lake: Eddie packs a basket with homemade sandwiches, snacks and drinks and takes Steve to a secluded spot by the lake to spread out a blanket and enjoy the view from the back of his van. He puts some blankets and pillows in the back to make it cozy and brings his acoustic guitar to play some songs for Steve.
Stargazing in a boat: Eddie asks Rick for his boat and takes Steve to the middle of the lake with it, with a blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate. They can sit there, wrapped in blankets and look at the stars together. Eddie couldn't have known this, but Steve had a great love for the stars as a child, and he used to look at the constellations through a telescope with his grandfather before he died. Steve explains the constellations they see to Eddie.
Movie Night in the Backyard: Eddie organizes everything to set up a projector and a white sheet in the backyard of Steve's house because Steve had suggested a movie night but that way, it's special. He decorates the area with fairy lights while Steve makes the popcorn Eddie brought with and together they settle onto a blanket with some pillows and watch a movie of Steve's choice.
Campfire Evening: Eddie builds a campfire by the lake (with some help from Wayne). They roast marshmallows, make s'mores, and talk while enjoying the crackling fire and the night sounds. They share a blanket and body heat against the cold. The stars twinkle overhead, and the moon casts a soft glow on the water. As the night deepens, their conversation becomes more personal, sharing stories and experiences.
Baking Christmas Cookies: Eddie invites Steve over to bake Christmas cookies together, something Eddie's mom used to do with him when he was still little. He plays Christmas songs, filling the kitchen with festive cheer. Together, they make funny figures from the dough, decorating them with colorful icing, sprinkles, and candy. Eddie shares stories of his childhood Christmases, and Steve listens, adding his own holiday memories. The afternoon turns into evening, and they enjoy their homemade treats with hot cocoa.
Steve's face immediately heats up when he realizes what the box in his hands is. In hindsight, he realizes that it shouldn't have come as that big of a surprise. He blatantly told the guy that his interested looks aren't unwelcome, and then invited him over for a 'party of two'. Jesus Christ. If Eddie was a girl, there would be zero nuance in what such an invitation entails; it's literally code for a hook-up. Of course it would hold the same meaning to a guy who's into other guys.
And it's not like Steve wasn't at least subconsciously aware of what he's doing, and it absolutely wasn't about misleading Eddie, Steve was being absolutely truthful about his curiosity, it's just that… Now, holding the box of condoms in his hand, the whole ordeal suddenly feels… too real. All of a sudden, Steve feels sixteen again, painfully aware of his own inexperience in what he's about to get himself into.
Well, it may not be the condoms themselves that are the issue; at least this time around he wouldn't need to ruin half a box to practice putting them on; it's everything that's supposed to happen after that condom is on someone's dick. His own? Or Eddie's? Steve's not even sure which makes him more anxious. Even though there's a persistent hot tugging sensation in his lower belly, clearly indicative of his body's interest in both options.
Steve glances over at the boy on the couch beside him, white as a sheet and hands fidgeting as he stares at the box in Steve's hands.
"Um. I know I said I was curious," Steve begins in a gentle tone, making sure his speech doesn't sound like rejection. Because it's not that. Oh, absolutely not. "And I know how that might have sounded, but… I'm not sure I'm ready for…" He vaguely shakes the box of condoms. When Eddie blanches even more, he adds, "I mean, I appreciate the enthusiasm and that you want to be safe and all, but is it okay if we take it a little slower?"
Immediately, Eddie's posture visibly relaxes.
"Yeah. Yeah, of course, I didn't— I wasn't— expecting anything like that, I swear, I just—" Eddie rambles, gesticulating wildly. "I-I just realized last night that I ran out, and I stopped by the pharmacy to stock up, and I completely forgot I had them when I headed over, shit, this is really not what it looks like—"
"Hey. Hey," Steve interrupts him, because the guy looks like he's about to hyperventilate. He raises the box and shakes it. "You know what this says about you?"
"What?" Eddie raises those huge Bambi eyes to meet his. Steve gives him a sweet smile.
"Same thing as when you called me last night to check that I made it home alright." He twists to stuff the box back into Eddie's jacket and turning it around to dive into another pocket. "You care about shit that's important, and it's… it's a good thing, Eddie. I mean, I always bring a few myself when I'm meeting a girl. Even if I'm pretty sure nothing's gonna happen, 'cos… better safe than sorry, right?"
On second attempt, Steve retrieves the actual pack of cigarettes from the jacket and takes one out, then holds it up to Eddie. The other boy, still looking a bit shaken but visibly flustered at Steve's words, also pulls out a cigarette for himself.
For a few minutes, they smoke in silence, both looking at the TV without really watching it, occasionally leaning forward to drop the ashes into an empty soda can. Steve kills the cigarette after half a dozen drags; Eddie's stuff is a little too strong for his liking, to be honest. He even gets a little light-headed from the nicotine rush.
Eddie remains uncharacteristically quiet, and Steve shifts closer, nudging their shoulders together.
"Hey. I can still hear you overthinking."
He can hear a quiet chuckle, and when he turns to look, Eddie's eyes are darting between him and the TV.
"I just, uh... Like, I'm trying to make sure I don't fuck up here, so... When you say you want to take it slow..." Eddie chews on his lip. "How slow are we talking?"
Option 1:
"Well, I definitely enjoy being wined and dined before I put out", Steve jokes, but Eddie appears to miss the humorous tone completely. "Oh yeah, of course! I'm not a complete savage," he says, and proceeds to list some diner options he could take Steve to. Steve doesn't have the heart to correct him; he can barely contain his sudden giddiness at the idea of actually being courted for the first time in his life.
Option 2:
Steve's eyes dart down to Eddie's lips. "How about we start with first base?" He asks, mostly confident with his answer, because this is familiar territory, even if the lips involved here would belong to a boy. Eddie, however, looks back at him with a slightly awkward expression. "I'm not great at jock terms, what exactly does that entail?" Steve grins, feeling his confidence only grow. "How about I show you?"
Option 3:
"Someone's eager," Steve teases; he feels a bit bad when it makes Eddie groan and hide his face in his hands. "Oh come on, I'm kidding. Look, I'm sorry if I misled you into thinking I'm just looking to hook up today. I really wanted to hang out with you, but like... I totally get if that's kind of a dealbreaker, or... whatever," he trails off.
Option 4:
Steve looks up to the ceiling, considering his answer for a moment, feeling heat in his cheeks again. "Uhm. Look, I swear I'm not a prude or like, leading you on or whatever, so..." He nudges Eddie in a way that he hopes comes off as playful. "You're the one with the upper ground here, experience-wise. What's fun that you'd do with a guy that doesn't, like, involve going all the way?"
"So… you and the Harrington boy, what’s that about?" Wayne doesn't sound accusatory, not even overly curious. He makes it sound like he’s asking “Yer figure it’ll rain later?” but Eddie knows better. Knows his uncle and his tendency to worry. Not that there's anything to worry about, right? Right.
"I don't know," Eddie answers honestly. "Maybe nothing. It was a fucking weird night, man."
"Language, Edward," Wayne remarks sternly, yet not a single note of anger to his voice.
Wayne must be the only person in their neighborhood who actively dislikes profanity. One of many stark contrasts to Eddie's own dad.
"Sorry," Eddie winces apologetically. "Freaking weird night. Harrington is... not what I expected. We'd never spoken before last night, 'cos I mean, why would we, he's this rich popular jock and I'm... well."
"Smart, creative, honest and way too good for him, I reckon?"
Eddie rolls his eyes, failing to hide the fond smile overtaking his features.
"Oh shut up, old man. Anyways, we ran into each other at Skull Rock and got to talking, then got some pizza and hung out. Turns out he's pretty cool, actually."
"And quite handsome, hmm?"
"Understatement," Eddie sighs dreamily, then catches himself and sputters, blushing, "I mean— what? No, it's not— He's— He's, yeah, he's okay-looking, I guess. I mean, objectively speaking, y’know."
His uncle just glances at him with an amused smile.
"Son, you know you ain't gotta sneak around me. Your business is your business, just promise me you're being safe with the... 'hanging out', yeah?"
"Oh my god. It's not like that, I swear. He's not even— oh my god, I don't know. We barely know each other!" Eddie exclaims with a hysterical-sounding laugh.
"I know you think I'm old-fashioned, boy, but I'm aware that ain't stopping you young folk these days from doing the hanky-panky," Wayne deadpans.
Eddie groans, hiding his burning face in his hands.
"Jesus H. Christ, why would you even call it that?!"
"'Cos last time I said 'sex' in front of ya, you screamed, plugged your ears and ran out on me."
Eddie cringes physically and folds in on himself, head between his own knees. A moment later, he feels something crunchy shoved into his jacket pocket. He reaches and pulls it out, raising his head just enough to see; it's a five-dollar note.
"What's that for?"
"I know for a fact them rubbers I got ya back then ain't good no more. Buy some new ones before you see your fella again."
Eddie's head drops back down between his knees. He doesn't even comment on the fact that he's earning enough for himself to get a goddamn pack of condoms, thank you very much. It's better to say nothing at this point and pray they get to Skull Rock before he goes up in flames. He's half-considering jumping out of the moving car already.
Truly, he's eternally grateful for his uncle's unquestionable acceptance. He knows he's probably the luckiest queer boy in all of Indiana this way. Doesn't make it any less mortifying to be getting The Talk. Again. (Last time it happened, he was fifteen, and yeah, he did run out on Wayne in the middle of it.)
Besides, he can't think about condoms and Steve within the same context without his horny brain unhelpfully supplying various imagery that his dick starts to show great interest in. Worst timing ever, with his uncle sitting three feet away. And seriously, it's not even like that, he doesn't even know if Steve would want... oh god, would Steve want to have sex with him? Is that what he meant by 'curious'?
"Eddie," his uncle prompts, seemingly oblivious to his inner struggles. "Will you promise me you'll be smart about this?"
Eddie sighs miserably.
"If I say yes, will you stop torturing me and let me die here in peace?"
"I'm doing this precisely 'cos I can't have you dying on me, kid," Wayne replies, his tone somehow both heavy and soft. It makes Eddie finally look up.
And he gets it. He gets it.
"Yeah, I promise, okay," he grumbles, leaning back in his seat and putting one foot up on the dashboard. His leg immediately gets a light slap, and he puts it back down.
"Good," Wayne nods, looking satisfied; and thankfully, the conversation is finally over.
Back in his van and on his way to Steve's, Eddie can't stop thinking about what Wayne said. Before their little talk, Eddie would have said that Steve probably only invited him over because that big ass mansion of his is probably a little bit scary and a hell of a lot lonely. Now, however, he can't quiet the voice in his head that insists it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. Just in case.
If there's one thing Eddie is, it's impulsive. Act first, think later. So before he can second-guess himself, he steers the van onto Main and makes a quick detour to the pharmacy.
Inside, Eddie tries to act casual as he enters the small pharmacy. The bell above the door chimes, drawing the attention of the elderly cashier who gives him a polite nod. He returns the gesture, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart in his ears. He navigates the aisles, mentally chanting cool, calm, collected.
The store is mostly empty, save for a couple of middle-aged women chatting by the cold remedies. Eddie ducks his head and makes a beeline for the health section. He pretends to be interested in the vitamins and supplements, his eyes darting to the row of condom boxes lined up neatly on the shelf.
He edges closer, hands sweaty, cursing his uncle for making him feel so self-conscious. Wayne was right, of course. But still, the whole thing is mortifying. Eddie tries to calm himself, picking up a box and flipping it over as if he’s reading the fine print, like he’s scrutinizing ingredients on a cereal box.
Just then, he hears footsteps approaching. He panics, shoving the box back onto the shelf with a clumsy thud and pretends to be engrossed in a bottle of multivitamins. He prays whoever it is won’t recognize him.
"Need any help?" a cheery voice chirps from behind.
Eddie jumps, the bottle slipping from his grasp. He catches it just before it hits the floor. Slowly, he turns to face the source of the voice—a young pharmacist with a bright smile and a nametag that reads "Jessica."
"N-no, I’m good, thanks," he stammers, his face flaming. He knows he looks guilty as sin.
"Are you sure?" she asks, her smile unwavering. "You look a little lost."
Lost. If only she knew how lost he really was.
"Just, um... just browsing," he mutters, inching away from the shelves, trying to make a quick escape.
Jessica’s eyes flick to the shelf he was standing in front of, and her smile widens in understanding. "No worries. Let me know if you need anything."
"Yep, will do," Eddie mumbles, heading to a different aisle, hoping to regroup and return when the coast is clear.
After a minute of pretending to examine dental floss, Eddie gathers his courage and makes another attempt. He peers around the corner—Jessica is back behind the counter, chatting with the cashier. With renewed determination, Eddie strides back to the health section.
He grabs the first box he sees without looking at it, then quickly makes his way to the checkout. His heart pounds louder with every step, his palms sweaty, gripping the box as if it might fly away.
There’s no line at the register, but the elderly cashier from before is still there, giving him a knowing look. He feels his face heating up again as he places the box on the counter. She scans it with a raised eyebrow, but doesn’t say a word.
"Just this?" she asks, her voice calm, betraying no judgment.
"Uh, yeah," Eddie manages to squeak out.
She nods and rings up the purchase. Eddie fumbles with his wallet, nearly dropping his cash as he hands over the crumpled five dollar bill.
"Have a good day, young man," she says, handing him the small paper bag with the box inside.
"You too," Eddie mumbles, snatching the bag and making a beeline for the door.
Once outside, he breathes a sigh of relief, clutching the bag like a lifeline. He throws it into the passenger seat of the van, hoping he hasn’t drawn too much attention to himself. With one last glance at the pharmacy, he drives off, heading towards Steve’s place with his heart still racing.
As he turns onto the road leading to Loch Nora, a new kind of anxiety takes hold. What if Wayne’s right? What if tonight’s the night he loses his virginity? The thought sends a shiver down his spine—half terror, half excitement. But hey, at least he’s prepared.
Parking his van in Steve's driveway, he quickly stuffs the box into his jacket and hops out of the car. He tries not to think about how his beat-up van looks right behind Steve's sleek and shiny BMW. It's still surreal that someone like Steve Harrington would invite someone like Eddie to his house without a wild party raging inside. One that Eddie is supposed to supply with party favors.
He knocks on the door, his mind still racing, and is surprised when Steve opens it just seconds later.
Huh.
"Eager to see me, Harrington?" his mouth asks without his input.
Steve's easy smile falters for a split second before it returns, wider and a touch more genuine. "Hey, Munson. Didn't want to keep you waiting."
Eddie laughs nervously, stepping inside as Steve holds the door open for him. The grandeur of the Harrington household never fails to amaze him, its polished surfaces and expensive decor feeling worlds away from his own cluttered, cozy trailer. They stand in awkward silence for a moment, both remembering the charged atmosphere of the previous night—the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the unspoken promise interrupted by Wayne's untimely arrival.
"So," Eddie finally says, scratching the back of his neck, "what's the plan for tonight?"
Steve shrugs, leading Eddie into the living room. "Figured we could watch a movie or something. There's a new one I've been wanting to see. Thought you might like it too."
Eddie nods, trying to ignore the way his heart picks up speed. "Yeah, sounds good. What movie?"
Steve rattles off the title, but Eddie doesn't catch it, too busy watching the way Steve's lips move, the way his hair falls perfectly into place. He realizes he's staring and quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Cool, cool. Let's do it."
Steve heads over to the large entertainment center in the living room, fiddling with the various remotes until a TV that looks thrice the size of his own flicker to life. Eddie flops onto the couch while Steve is fiddling with the VHS, trying to act casual, but his mind is still racing.
As the movie starts, the room is filled with a comfortable, albeit slightly tense, silence. Eddie tries to focus on the screen, but he keeps stealing glances at Steve. He's sitting a little too close, their knees almost touching. Eddie's fingers twitch, itching to reach out, but he holds back.
Halfway through the movie, Eddie feels the need to break the tension. "Hey, you want a smoke?"
Steve glances at him, a small smile playing on his lips. He must have noticed how Eddie kept fidgeting. "Yeah, sure, why not. Dustin made me throw away my last pack, though."
Eddie nods, wondering who this Dustin was and if Steve was curious about him, too. "I might be willing to share my stack with you, Stevie, if you ask nicely."
Steve's smile widens and there's something in his eyes - something flirtatious, maybe? "Please, asshole," he says with a grin, the asshole coming out sweet as honey. "It's in your jacket, isn't it?"
Eddie laughs, enjoying this side of Steve immensely, before nodding. "Yeah, front pocket."
Steve reaches over to where Eddie has thrown his jacket over the back of the couch and leans heavily against Eddie's side. His body heat seeps into Eddie's body and Eddie's nose is filled with Steve's smell as Steve searches for the pack of cigarettes. Eddie's breath catches in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs. Steve's hand pauses, then pulls out something that makes Eddie's blood run cold - a small, rectangular box with a very distinctive label.
How will Steve react?
Option 1:
Steve looks down at the box in his hand and back at Eddie. He's not sure how to react, especially with what's written on the box of condoms he's holding. "Extra large? Wow… I'm flattered. Or were those for you, big boy?"
Option 2:
Steve almost drops the box he's holding when he realizes what it is. A box of condoms? And a new one, from the looks of it. Was Eddie going to have sex with someone after spending the day with Steve? Or maybe even go on a date? It's Saturday, so it's not unlikely, but the thought doesn't sit well with him. Ignoring the way his stomach is churning uncomfortably, he hands the box to Eddie. "Sorry, I didn't mean to grab that. You got a date later?"
Option 3:
Steve stares at the box for a moment, then looks at Eddie, one eyebrow raised. "Planning something for tonight, Munson? How presumptuousness of you."
Eddie's face goes beet red. "Oh my god, I—no, it's not—"
Steve chuckles, setting the box on the coffee table. "Relax, Eddie. I'm just messing with you."
Eddie buries his face in his hands, groaning. "Kill me now."
Option 4:
Steve's face immediately heats up when he realizes what the box in his hands is. His face is not the only thing that feels hot as the implications of Eddie having condoms in his jacket sink in. Does he… want to have sex? With Steve?
Even as his dick shows some interest in the thought of Eddie underneath or on top of him, he also feels the first flicker of panic in the back of his mind. He's not ready for this. Not yet.
"I know I said I was curious, and I know how that might have sounded, but… I'm not sure I'm ready for…" He vaguely shakes the box of condoms. When Eddie blanches even more, he adds, "I mean, I appreciate the enthusiasm and that you want to be safe and all, but is it okay if we take it a little slower?"
Wayne doesn’t say another word after watching Harrington drive away in his shiny bimmer, but Eddie can feel his uncle’s questioning gaze boring a hole into his back as they head inside. Eddie really doesn’t feel like explaining the whole situation to him tonight though; he can barely understand it himself, so he just mumbles something about being tired and heads directly back to his bedroom, shutting the door.
He collapses backwards on his bed and squeezes his eyes shut. The entire evening fast-forwards behind his eyelids, from the moment he fell on his ass at Skull Rock, to his own awkwardly blurted almost-confession. Honestly, it’s a blessing that Wayne chose to arrive when he did and interrupted their conversation, because who knows what else would have spilled out of Eddie’s weed-loosened mouth. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.’ Eddie groans and rolls over, burying his face in the mattress to muffle a scream. What on Earth was he thinking?!
Except… a little too late, he’s struck with the full weight of the realization that Steve Harrington, in a very weird and subtle way, might have actually come out to him tonight. Because what the fuck else was all that supposed to mean? He’s curious? He doesn’t mind the attention? What kind of straight guy openly admits to not caring that he’s being checked out in a very queer way?
The whole evening feels surreal, and Eddie’s pretty convinced that in the morning he’ll chalk up half of what happened to some drug-induced hallucination. Like maybe the weed batch was laced with something stronger. Highly unlikely; Eddie’s been buying from Rick since he was sixteen, he’d never do shit like that.
Still, the mere thought puts a seed of doubt in his mind, and he immediately thinks of Steve behind the wheel, and of how maybe he shouldn’t have been driving, actually, and his overactive imagination happily supplies a series of gruesome images of a mangled car wrapped around some streetlight, a lifeless body halfway through a broken windshield, blood dripping onto the car hood. Shit. He doesn’t even remember if Steve fastened his seatbelt as he drove away.
Eddie jolts upright, his gaze falling on the phone still on the floor of his bedroom from last night when he talked Jeff through his new character creation; Wayne hasn’t had the chance to scold him for not putting it back yet. However, he doesn’t actually know Harrington’s number, so he slips into the now dark corridor and tiptoes – just in case, even though his uncle tends to sleep like a log – to the table by the front door so he can grab the phonebook.
Eddie finds the number pretty quickly, but as he picks up the handset, he hesitates, staring at the series of numbers on the page. He’s definitely being ridiculous. He’s sold weed to countless people and never thought twice about what they were doing with it. Harrington is going to laugh at him and probably think he’s desperate and borderline stalkerish.
Still, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep before putting his worries to rest, Eddie reaches forward and punches in the numbers, then hugs the handset between his shoulder and ear, and waits, heart hammering in his chest. One, two, three beeps…
“Harrington residence, this is Steve.”
A wave of relief washes over Eddie; and yet, he can’t help the amused snicker that escapes his lips.
“Is that seriously how you answer your phone? Fancy.”
There’s a short pause. Then…
“Oh fuck you, Munson.” There’s no bite to the words, and Eddie suppresses a giddy giggle at Steve recognizing his voice.
“You wish,” Eddie replies on autopilot, then mentally kicks himself in the balls because no, nonono what the fuck, can his goddamn brain-to-mouth filter actually function for once.
Steve only laughs, though. And Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that.
“Everything okay?” Steve asks. “Did your uncle give you trouble for me staying over so late?”
“Nah, Wayne doesn’t give a shit about things like that. I was just checking that you got home in one piece. You know, with the weed and booze and all.”
A long silence on the other end of the line makes him wonder if this was, in fact, a really dumb idea. Just as he’s about to start rambling excuses though, Steve’s voice comes through.
“You know what, I don’t actually remember anyone ever checking in on me like this. Which probably speaks volumes about my former friends, but… what else is new.”
There’s an attempt at humor in Steve’s voice, but it falls flat.
“Or maybe they just aren’t paranoid freaks,” Eddie replies in a weak effort to cheer Steve up. Even though he can’t help but agree; Harrington’s ex-buddies are proper shitheads. “I dunno, man, I just had this image of your bloody mangled corpse inside a wrecked car, and I couldn’t sleep without calling.”
“Wow,” Steve chuckles. “That’s like… both disturbing and somehow one of the sweetest things anyone’s said to me.”
Eddie muffles a giggle against the palm of his hand and falls back, bouncing on the mattress. As nice as it is to keep talking to Steve, it occurs to him that he should probably let the guy go to sleep now.
“Well—”
“So—”
Steve cuts off whatever he was going to say as soon as they start speaking simultaneously.
“Sorry,” Eddie laughs. “Go ahead.”
“I was, um. I was just wondering what you’re doing tomorrow.”
Eddie perks up.
“Why, is there a party at the Harrington castle?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. A party of one doesn’t seem worth planning, I might just cancel that.” There’s an audible smile in Steve’s voice, and he hesitates before adding, “A party of two, though…”
Holy shit. Holy shit, Steve’s inviting him over. Right? Is that what this is? He prays that he didn't misinterpret that.
“Oh that could be an absolute rager, Harrington,” Eddie jokes, his cheeks aching from grinning. He’s twisting the cord around his finger, five seconds from literally kicking his feet. “We might just bring the roof down. Probably gonna have the neighbors call the cops, too.”
Steve laughs, a bright cheerful sound that turns Eddie’s insides into warm goo.
“Sooo… what time does this fancy party start?” Eddie asks, chewing on his lip.
“Well, it can’t exactly start without you, so whenever you get here, I guess.”
Eddie glances at his watch and performs some mental calculations.
“Let’s say… Around two. I probably won’t be up until noon, and I still gotta go fetch my van from Skull Rock.”
“Oh shit. I totally forgot about that. Do you want me to drop by in the morning so we can get it?”
“Nah, it’s okay, I’ll ask Wayne. He’ll probably have something smart to say about my forgetfulness now extending to my own vehicle.”
Steve laughs again.
“Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”
“Bye, Steve,” Eddie says and immediately slams the receiver down in its place, resisting the urge to see if the other boy hangs up first and cause an awkward silence. He’s embarrassed himself enough tonight.
Predictably, his uncle does joke about the whole situation, but Eddie bribes him with pancakes for breakfast, so he’s in a very good mood on their way to Skull Rock. And as he keeps glancing over, Eddie knows a conversation is inevitable, so he’s mostly mentally prepared for the question that comes.
“So… you and the Harrington boy, what’s that about?”
This fandom loves having opinions and headcanons about Wayne, so this poll & the subsequent installment will be featuring our favorite adoptive father of Steddie.
Option 1. Eddie dodges the question and makes up a story about Steve just coming over to his trailer for some weed, strictly business. Wayne doesn’t seem to buy it, but doesn’t push. Eddie feels bad about lying to his uncle, but he's not ready to talk about this, worrying he'd only get his hopes up for nothing.
Option 2. Eddie giddily tells the whole truth, including his crush and his own cautious observation about how Steve maybe possibly flirted with him, unless it’s all in his own head. Wayne assures him that he’s likely not wrong, judging by how Harrington was looking at him when they parted.
Option 3. Eddie tells him the bare minimum of what happened, but Wayne fills in the gaps on his own and assumed that him and Steve are hooking up, which leads to Eddie curling up into a ball on the passenger seat, physically cringing as his uncle reminds him to use protection. Because it's not like that. Or could it be? He refuses to think about this further with his uncle in the car.
Option 4. Wayne doesn’t look happy about Eddie hanging out with Harrington. He’s frowning as he insists that Eddie be careful, because he loves his nephew and doesn’t want to see him get hurt. The conversation leaves a sour taste in Eddie's mouth, making him wonder if Wayne's right and Steve has ulterior motives in trying to get close to him. It all felt too good to be true.
As Eddie's face keeps getting redder, Steve decides to feign innocence and asks, "Hey man, you okay?"
Eddie makes a show of tugging on the collar of his shirt. "Uh, dunno. Is it just the weed or is it awfully hot in here?"
Steve's eyes widen, because… come on, that's such a classic line, he's used this on girls a million times before (well, maybe minus the weed part). Unsure if Eddie realizes that, Steve decides to take the bait anyway. "Yeah, I guess it is," he says and sits up to tug the sweater over his head, leaving him in just a thin white T-shirt underneath.
Eddie's eyes flicker nervously to Steve's now bare arms and the exposed skin of his neck. There's a moment of silence between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Steve’s not sure if Eddie’s aware of the subtle shift in their interaction, but he figures it's now or never.
“Dude, are you sure you’re good?” Steve asks, letting a small, reassuring smile tug at his lips. “You look a little... flustered.”
Eddie swallows hard and forces a laugh, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just... the weed, you know? Gets to me sometimes.”
Steve nods, pretending to believe him, and leans back, letting his weight rest on his hands behind him, knowing that it really shows off the muscles in his arms. The movement also brings him closer to Eddie, their shoulders almost touching. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know. I’ve seen it all, trust me.”
Eddie's eyes dart to Steve's, searching for any hint of mockery or judgment. He must see something that reassures him because he visibly relaxes, letting out a breath he probably didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah? And what have you seen, Harrington?”
Steve chuckles softly. “More than you might think. People aren’t as good at hiding stuff as they believe.”
Eddie's brow furrows slightly, processing Steve’s words. “So, you’ve noticed things about people? Like what?”
“Like how some guys look at other guys the way most guys look at girls,” Steve replies, keeping his voice casual but his eyes steady on Eddie’s. “And how those same guys try really hard to pretend they’re not looking.”
Eddie’s face goes through a myriad of expressions—confusion, realization, and then a kind of cautious hope. “And what do you do when you notice that?”
Steve shrugs. “Depends. Sometimes I ignore it. Sometimes I get curious.” He pauses, gauging Eddie’s reaction. “Right now, I’m curious.”
Eddie’s breath hitches, and he looks down at his hands, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “Curious about what?”
“About why a guy like you would be so nervous around me,” Steve says softly. “I’m not going to freak out, Eddie. You can... you can look if you want to.”
Eddie’s eyes snap back to Steve’s, wide and disbelieving. “You... you don’t care?”
“Why would I care if someone finds me attractive?” Steve replies with a shrug, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. “Like I said, it’s flattering. And if I’m being honest... I don’t mind the attention.”
Eddie’s face breaks into a tentative smile, his shoulders relaxing further. “You’re full of surprises, Harrington.”
Steve grins. “Stick around, Munson. You might find out I’m full of a lot more than that.” The playful tone in his voice is matched by a spark in his eyes, and Eddie laughs, the tension between them easing into something less strained and more curious. Almost exciting.
As the evening continues, their conversation shifts seamlessly from awkward and tentative to relaxed and open. They talk about music, movies, and the ridiculousness of high school hierarchies. And somewhere in between those conversations, the space between them closes, shoulders brushing more frequently, hands accidentally touching and lingering a little longer each time.
By the time they step outside Eddie's trailer, the two of them are standing close under the dim porch light. The air is thick with unspoken words, the tension between them almost palpable.
“So, we good?” Steve asks, a hopeful lilt in his voice.
Eddie nods, a genuine smile on his face. “Yeah, Steve. We’re good.”
But as Eddie walks Steve to his car, he hesitates, turning back to him. His eyes are searching, filled with a mix of uncertainty and something else Steve can’t quite identify. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you…”
Steve’s heart skips a beat, the atmosphere around them suddenly charged with a different kind of electricity. “Yeah?”
Eddie takes a step closer, close enough that Steve can see the nervous flutter of his eyelashes. “Tonight, when I looked at you… it wasn’t just the weed. I—” Eddie’s voice falters, his eyes flickering between Steve’s and the ground. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
Steve’s breath catches, his mind racing. Before he can respond, the sound of a car pulling up startles them both. They turn to see Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, getting out of his truck, his eyes narrowing as he spots the two boys standing close together.
Eddie steps back quickly, the moment broken, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I should go,” he mutters, casting a nervous glance at his uncle.
Wayne approaches, his gaze shifting between Eddie and Steve, sensing the tension. “Everything alright here, boys?”
“Yeah, just talking,” Eddie says quickly. “Steve was just leaving.”
Steve nods, forcing a casual smile. “Yeah, I’ll see you around, Munson.” He heads to his car, his heart pounding in his chest.
As he drives away, he glances in the rearview mirror, watching Eddie and his uncle disappear into the trailer. The weight of unfinished words and unspoken feelings presses down on him, and he grips the steering wheel tightly. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
As the night stretches ahead, Steve knows one thing for certain: he needs to figure out what to do next.
Option 1: The next morning, Steve feels embarrassed about what he said and what he did, coming on so strong to a guy he barely knew. So he tries to avoid thinking about it and wonders if he can avoid bumping into Eddie for the rest of the year. That all changes, however, when Eddie gives him a shy smile hidden behind a strand of his hair during their first class together. Rather than trying to avoid him, Steve sits down next to Eddie, ignoring the scandalized looks and whispers.
Option 2: Steve recalls on his way home that Eddie left his van at Skull Rock, so he'd have to bike to school. Steve decides to show up at his trailer in the morning with an offer to give him a lift to retrieve his car.
Option 3: When Steve gets home, his phone rings. It's Eddie. He wants to check that Steve made it home okay because he doesn't want Steve to crash his car if he was driving after smoking a joint that Eddie gave him. Steve is touched by Eddie's concern and decides he doesn't want to spend his weekend alone in his big house, so he invites Eddie over for the next day.
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You horny dogs (affectionate) just want them to bang asap huh
When Eddie comes back, they light up the joint again. This time, Harrington takes it from him to inhale; Eddie tries not to be upset about it, and not overthink whatever the fuck that was, earlier. (Because it was nothing, okay?) He’s also very normal about the way their fingers brush every time they pass the joint back and forth.
Harrington doesn’t break into any more coughing fits, but yeah, he’s definitely a lightweight. A few more hits, and he already looks dazed, falling backwards on Eddie’s mattress with a goofy smile, all relaxed and boneless. Eddie tries not to look at him beyond a passing glance, the thought ‘Steve Harrington is in my bed’ repeating in his head like a scratched record; but when Steve stretches, the hem of his sweater rising to expose the beautiful expanse of skin skin hair skin, well… Eddie’s only human, and very gay, and also a little bit high.
He’s not sure how much time has passed with his eyes glued to Harrington’s exposed midsection; when he finally manages to kick himself out of that stupor and drags his gaze back up to Steve’s face, he freezes, feeling the beginnings of a cold panic and the urge to run (however ridiculous, it’s his goddamn trailer, after all). Because Harrington definitely noticed; there’s no way he didn’t, with the way he’s watching Eddie, it’s completely obvious. Eddie fucked up.
Except there’s no anger on the guy’s face, no frown of disgust that suggests Eddie’s about to get his teeth kicked in; he looks surprised, and maybe a bit thoughtful, like he's trying to figure something out. And Eddie just stares back, desperately scrambling through his clownish brain for something funny to say and defuse the weird moment, and coming up blank.
Steve's not stupid or clueless. Contrary to popular belief; because of course he's heard people's opinions about himself. How he's self-obsessed, a mindless jock, how he cares only about parties and boobies.
He's never done anything to change those opinions, because... honestly, why bother. He's not a rebel like some people; like Munson right here, the prime example of breaking down stereotypes and constantly drawing attention to himself, rarely in a positive context. Besides, Steve genuinely liked sports, so being a jock was just easy. Society put him in a neat little box with specific characteristics - rich, narcissist, party boy, womanizer, King - and up until recently, Steve was fine with that. It was convenient, familiar, it got him through year after year of school, he had friends - or so he thought at the time.
It also let him make a rather interesting discovery. How easy it is to notice things about people when they don't think you're looking. Because why would the King lower himself to paying attention, right? Except Steve has always been good at noticing.
He’s not sure when exactly he first came to one particular realization. Some girls look at other girls the way most girls look at boys. And sometimes, boys look at other boys the way most boys look at girls. Quietly and subtly, but it’s there.
It was much later that his brain connected the notion to the various distasteful words he’s heard and seen written in bathroom stalls. And while that never sat right with him, it was relatively easy to ignore, to just accept things for what they were. But sometimes, especially when he’d catch similar hidden looks directed at himself from a few guys on the team, he’d wonder about it. About why it bothered everyone so much that those kinds of looks needed to be carefully concealed. Why guys would make gagging noises at the idea of being hit on by a faggot. The thought never made Steve feel disgusted; honestly, he was perplexed. Wasn’t it supposed to be flattering, when someone finds you attractive?
It’s not like Steve had much chance to do anything beyond wondering. Even letting most guys know that he’d noticed them looking was beyond dangerous. Simply not worth it to satisfy his curiosity.
He knew for sure that Tommy was like him. Curious about it. Steve knew it when they’d smoke and casually shotgun each other, lips almost touching. When Tommy would collapse against him and practically bury his face in Steve’s neck as they laughed at some stupid joke. When they’d sometimes fall asleep on Steve’s bed and wake up practically snuggled together, and laugh off the morning boners like it was no big deal.
But it was weird, to think that way about Tommy. He was Steve’s best friend, and he had a girlfriend, who Steve was also friends with, and so the idea of crossing some invisible line between platonic closeness and something more was unsettling.
And now, there’s a guy looking at him the way Tommy would look at him, except he’s not Tommy. They aren’t friends; they’re barely acquaintances, really, even though after tonight Steve weirdly feels like he’s known Munson for much longer. And the guy just checked Steve out, doing a rather poor job at keeping it subtle, and Steve… Steve’s intrigued.
But Munson looks like a deer in the headlights, and Steve doesn’t know what to do about it, how to give him a sign that it’s okay, it’s fine, he’s not one of those guys who’d freak out about it. That he can look... if he wants to.
Soooo what do you think happens next?
Option 1.
Seeing how freaked out Eddie looks, Steve decides to change the topic to ease the tension in the room. He looks around the room and spots a basketball in the corner. Raising his eyebrows, he turns back to Eddie. "So… was it you who stole a ball from gym class a couple of months ago?"
Option 2.
Steve decides to thread carefully, realizing that turning on his full flirty charm he normally uses on girls is probably not the best idea. He casually puts his arm behind his head as a makeshift pillow and looks at the ceiling as he asks, "So, Munson… you ever shotgun before?"
Option 3.
Before Steve can say a word, Eddie starts rambling, trying to sound casual and averting his eyes. "Uh, sorry, Harrington, just don't remember you being so hairy. Did you use to, like, shave your torso or something? Not that I ever paid attention, of course, just saying." With each word tumbling out of his mouth, he's cursing himself inwardly as he realizes he's only digging himself deeper into this awkwardness.
Option 4.
As Eddie's face keeps getting redder, Steve decides to feign innocence and asks, "Hey man, you okay?" Eddie makes a show of tugging on the collar of his shirt. "Uh, dunno. Is it just the weed or is it awfully hot in here?" Steve's eyes widen, because… come on, that's such a classic line, he's used this on girls a million times before (well, maybe minus the weed part). Unsure if Eddie realizes that, Steve decides to take the bait anyway. "Yeah, I guess it is," he says and sits up to tug the sweater over his head, leaving him in just a thin white T-shirt underneath.
Are y'all gonna surprise us for once or is it gonna be a sweep again
And, as promised, a much more timely continuation of our boy's adventure. Y'all wanted Eddie 'gay panic' Munson to touch Stevie, so that's what you get. Pity they are both disasters. Not sure adding weed and alcohol to the mix will help but we shall see what you guys decide should happen next.
Every time Eddie thought this night couldn't get any more surreal, it somehow does. It's actually hard to believe that he went to Skull Rock tonight just to find some peace and quiet, only to find, if not peace, at least some quiet with the King of Hawkins High himself. Former King, it seems, another thing Eddie has trouble wrapping his head around. Who would have thought that Steve Harrington of all people would turn out to be a good guy? Certainly not Eddie.
But all the evidence he gathered tonight points in that direction. Instead of mocking Eddie when he fell on his own clumsy ass, he rushed to his aid. They sat together and talked to each other in a civil and dare he say friendly and open way that Eddie usually only does with Jeff. And then, being the handsome knight in preppy armor that he apparently is, Steve offered to drive him home and buy them a pizza on the way so they could hang out. Like, y'know, friends.
All of which led to them sitting on his bed, awfully close for two guys who had never spoken to each other before today, sharing a pizza and a joint while continuing their friendly chatter. Part of him is still waiting to wake up with one hell of a hangover and realize that this was just a very vivid dream.
This feeling isn't helped by the way Steve still catches him off guard. Like when he casually talks about the next time they're going to hang out, or even more so when Eddie hands him the joint and instead of taking it like any other person would, he just wraps his full lips around it and smokes it out of Eddie's hand like they're in one of Eddie's wet dreams.
It stops being like one of his wet dreams when Steve starts coughing on the exhale, clearly having held the smoke in his lungs for too long. It’s a pitiful sound, wet and deep, almost as if it hurts him. That’s why Eddie pats his back somewhat forcefully to help him, feeling a strange mix of amusement and concern wash over him as Steve recovers.
Normally he would have made a joke about Steve being a lightweight, but something stopped him. Maybe it's the way Steve had tensed up after taking the first hit from Eddie's hand, as if he, too, had realized that this wasn't the way to share a smoke with a near stranger. Eddie knows a thing or two about the fine line between casual guy-on-guy behavior and frowned-upon guy-on-guy behavior, and it seemed that Steve had inadvertently crossed it and was now freaking out about it.
Not that there's any reason to, because Eddie wouldn't mind the frowned-upon version one bit, but Steve couldn't - shouldn't - know that. Eddie looks around his room, looking for something, anything he could use to diffuse any strange tension and make Steve feel at ease again. Because he enjoyed their easy back and forth, the quips and banter, the way they shared things about themselves.
He's so focused on finding a good distraction that he doesn't even notice that he never took his hand off Steve's back after his coughing fit subsided.
It's only when he feels Steve's body shift under his palm that he realizes his friendly helping gesture has turned into the classic move a teenage boy would make on a first date to get some action going. Seeing that this is the opposite of what he was trying to accomplish, he pulls his hand away as if he's been burned, startling both himself and Steve with the suddenness of his movement.
Feeling a flush of embarrassment flood his cheeks, Eddie clears his throat awkwardly, hoping to break the tension that now hangs thick in the air. Steve, catching onto Eddie's discomfort, offers a sheepish smile, his own cheeks tinged pink.
"Sorry about that," Steve says, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "I guess I'm more of a lightweight than I thought."
Eddie forces a chuckle, trying to play it off. "No worries. Happens to the best of us," he replies, his heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events.
Desperate to steer the conversation back to safer waters, Eddie gestures toward the half-eaten pizza on the nightstand. " Pizza's getting cold. Let's dig in before it's completely ruined," he suggests, grateful for the distraction.
Steve nods eagerly, seeming equally grateful for the change of subject, and they both dive into the pizza with renewed enthusiasm, the tension slowly dissipating as they resume their easy camaraderie. Still, Eddie can't shake the feeling of Steve's body moving under his touch, the lingering memory of it being so warm and firm against his hand.
When the last slice has disappeared into their growing and ever hungry teenage bodies, Eddie stretches with a satisfied groan. "Damn, Toni's really is the best pizza in town, say what you will." He rubs his flat stomach as if it were a baby bump. "It's so good, I want to make a whole bunch of baby pizzas in my belly right now."
"Oh my God, you are so weird," Steve laughs next to him and Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own, proud of himself for making Steve laugh. Again. Gone is the forlorn look on his face that had lingered there when Steve had asked him if he ever felt his life was falling apart. Eddie has no idea why, at least none that he's willing to admit, even to himself, but he hated seeing that kicked puppy look on Steve's face. It's such a pretty face, Eddie thinks, especially when smiling or laughing.
"Well, thank you, my liege, I always strive to please," Eddie replies with a bow that causes the empty pizza box to slide from his lap to the floor. He ignores it in favor of reaching for the joint he put in the ashtray after Steve's coughing fit. "How about you get this baby started again and I'll grab us both a beer?"
He jumps off the bed and, without waiting for an answer, walks out of his room and into the kitchen. The truth is, he needs some space between them to think with a clear head that isn't filled with Steve's smell and the feeling of his body so close to Eddie's. Getting high and drunk is probably counterproductive to the whole clear head thing, but it's the best he could come up with on such short notice.
As he looks in their fridge for the cheap beer he knows Wayne keeps in there, he tries to come up with a plan on how he can continue to enjoy this newfound kind-of-almost-hopeful friendship with Steve even with his hormones going haywire from being so close to one of the prettiest boys he's ever seen. How is this his life, he can't help but wonder.
How shall we proceed from here?
Option 1:
It takes Eddie a few minutes to return to his room because he decides to use the bathroom first. When he gets back, he finds Steve asleep on his bed. Seeing Steve curled up there, a mixture of fondness and concern fills Eddie's heart. He can't help but wonder what happened to Steve to end up here, sleeping on Eddie's bed, looking so small and exhausted, as if this is the first time he's gotten any sleep in weeks. He decides to let Steve sleep.
Option 2:
When Eddie returns, he brings beers and a noticeable tension between them. It makes Steve uneasy, so he drinks his beer too fast while they share the joint. Being a lightweight, it hits him hard, and he starts feeling queasy. Eddie finds himself gently holding Steve's hair back as he gets sick, taking care of him in a way no one has in a very long time.
Option 3:
Eddie comes back and they light up a joint again. This time, Steve doesn't cough upon taking a drag, but he does go all relaxed and boneless, falling backwards on Eddie's mattress and stretching lazily. Eddie's eyes are immediately glued to the patch of skin revealed below the hem of Steve's bunched up sweater; and when he kicks himself out of the horny stupor and drags his gaze back to Steve's face, Steve's looking right back at him. There's no way he didn't notice; cold panic starts to wash over Eddie, but Steve doesn't look angry. Just surprised, and maybe a bit thoughtful, like he's trying to figure something out.
Apologies for the big delay in posting! Our respective steddiebangs and some other stuff got in the way. Bringing you this longer installment as a treat & the updates should come more regularly from now on :) you can go through the previous parts via the masterlist if you wanna refresh your memory on where we left off with the boys.
The drive to the trailer park is a silent one. Steve isn't sure if any of his tapes would appeal to Eddie; he briefly ponders turning on the radio, but decides against it in the end, knowing Munson's rather… eccentric music taste. If you could call it music, honestly, the noise that usually blasts out of rolled down windows of his beat-up van whenever it arrives at Hawkins High's parking lot, swerving into an empty spot at a completely random angle. (How did the guy ever get his license, honestly?)
Steve doesn't feel like fighting over music right now. Not when they seem to get along so well. Surprisingly well. And to be honest, the silence feels rather nice, soothing to the loud mess in his head that never shuts up lately, even when he tries to get some sleep. He's actually struck by how it doesn't even feel that awkward, this silence between them, only occasionally interrupted by Eddie giving directions on the shortest route to the trailer park.
He keeps side-glancing at Eddie; he can't really be blamed, Eddie's somewhat of an expert at drawing everyone's attention whenever he steps into a room, with his wild hair, and bold out-of-the-blue declarations, and chains attached to various parts of his attire jingling with every step. And now, he can't seem to keep still in his seat like a normal person his age; behaving more like the kids, honestly. Fidgeting all the time, playing with a bunch of loose change inside Steve's cup holder, drumming his fingers against the dashboard, then drawing his signature bandana out of his back pocket and starting to fold it into elaborate shapes in his lap like an origami sheet.
Steve wonders what's going on through that guy's head. Whether this whole night so far feels as surreal for him as it does for Steve. If someone told him a month ago that he'd be willingly hanging out with Eddie "The Freak" Munson, of all people, he'd openly laugh in their face. Now, that thought makes him wince; was he really such a giant asshole? Or was the whole idea so funny for a completely opposite reason… that there's no way Eddie Munson would ever choose to hang out with Steve Harrington. Eddie, who's weird, and clever, and funny, and most of all real in a way that his former friends never were.
Eddie jumps out of the car the moment it stops in front of his trailer, and Steve is suddenly struck with the thought that maybe the whole ride felt different for Eddie, after all. Uncomfortable. He bolts like he's relieved to no longer be stuck inside the small quiet space with Steve. But when Steve kills the engine and opens the door to step out, Eddie's right beside him, with a grin so wide and welcoming that Steve's doubts quickly fade away, replaced by a feeling of relief that almost annoys him. He's so fucking tired of this, expecting the worst at every corner these days.
Eddie's whole demeanor has changed, Steve realizes, more so as he swings open the door to his trailer. It's obvious that being inside his own space, on home turf, so to speak, immediately puts him at ease. Steve's almost jealous. He's never felt the same about his own house.
"Welcome to my humble abode," Eddie announces loudly, throwing his jacket in the direction of a coat rack, missing, and not giving a damn when the jacket lands across a table behind it instead. He grins at Steve, who's stopped at the doorstep, curiously looking around at the small but cozy space, filled with a giant collection of various hats and mugs, old but clean and well-maintained furniture.
"Shut the door, will ya?" Eddie draws his attention. "You're letting the cold in, and our good old Mr. Radiator is kind of on his last breath."
"Oh… Right, sorry," Steve turns and hurries to comply, thinking about how this was never something he'd be normally concerned about. The inside of his house being warm was always just a given.
"No worries," Eddie waves his hand and kicks off his sneakers; Steve follows his example, with the difference of leaving his own shoes neatly side by side instead of a messy pile in the corner. "Want a beer?" Eddie asks.
Steve nods and follows the guy into a small kitchen area, leaning against a counter as Eddie rummages through the fridge and produces two bottles of cheap beer.
"You live here alone?" Steve asks, although he already suspects the answer is no. The decorations in the room just don't feel like Eddie at all.
"With my uncle Wayne," Eddie replies, quickly opening both bottles and handing one to Steve.
Uncle? But why… Steve suddenly remembers all the rumors floating around about Eddie's dad being in prison, and realizes he probably shouldn't pry any further. In case Eddie doesn't wanna talk about it.
"He works night shifts," Eddie clarifies, mistaking Steve's silence for confusion about the lack of said uncle in the trailer. He runs a hand through his hair, glancing at the corridor behind him and then back at Steve. "Hey, if you don't mind hanging back for a minute, my room's kind of a mess and if we smoke in here, Wayne's gonna be pissed. He doesn't care about the weed but he hates the smell."
"I don't mind a bit of a mess," Steve replies honestly, shrugging. Eddie chuckles.
"Yeah, well, in that case, I'm gonna go and attempt to improve the situation to fit the 'bit of a mess' definition," he announces and disappears down a short narrow corridor, shutting the door behind him.
For a few minutes, Steve hears the distinct sounds of stuff being moved and thrown about, drawers being opened and shut, accompanied by indistinguishable mumbling and grunting. He peeks behind the corner at the door to Eddie's bedroom and leans against the wall, waiting with mild amusement. He's been in Tommy's room, for fuck's sake, and the guy is the least tidy person he knows. Eddie's can't possibly be worse.
Finally, Eddie swings the door open and grins when he spots Steve. He bows and extends his hand out in invitation. Steve turns to grab the pizza boxes he's set on the counter and heads inside Eddie's room. His eyes dart around, taking in all the posters, the music equipment and guitars, the endless books, cassette tapes, figurines, various knick-knacks taking up every surface of the room but the floor. (Which, he suspects, is only the result of Eddie's recent efforts.)
"Oh yeah, that's more like it," he mumbles to himself.
Eddie raises an eyebrow at him from the desk where he already started rolling a joint. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing," Steve laughs. "Just been thinking, in your living room, that the place doesn't really feel yours."
"Well that's Wayne's space," Eddie responds with a smile; Steve notices the warm affection in his voice. "Old man loves his mugs and hats. Although if you look closely, you can identify some of my own additions to that collection."
Steve's tempted, but the joint in Eddie's hands right now feels more tempting. He really wants his brain to shut up.
"Maybe another time," he replies, shutting the door and settling down on the edge of Eddie's bed, beside a giant pile of various books and papers hastily covered with a sweater.
He suddenly realizes, as Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, that it was a bit presumptuous of him to think that there'd be another time; but before he can awkwardly backtrack, the questioning look on Eddie's face is replaced with an amused smile.
"You gonna light it up?" Steve asks, nodding at the joint.
"Have a slice first," Eddie replies, reaching for the pizza box himself. He adds as he chews, muffled by the food in his mouth, "Can't have you passing out on me on an empty stomach."
"Hey, I'm not that much of a lightweight," Steve protests, but grabs a slice for himself.
"Never said you were," Eddie responds with a smirk. He keeps eye contact with Steve for a long moment, and Steve feels like he's being studied, or something. It's a little unsettling, so he turn away under the pretext of exploring Eddie's room again.
For a while, they eat the pizza and wash it down with beer, Steve keeps asking questions about various stuff Eddie owns, first cautiously, then more at ease, as Eddie seems to be perfectly happy in satisfying Steve's curiosity. Steve learns about Eddie's band, some of his favorite books, about being a Dungeon Master for the Hellfire club. Eddie looks genuinely surprised that Steve knows what D&D even is, so Steve tells him about the kids… omitting a whole lot of details, obviously.
Eddie takes genuine interest in the kids as he asks, "When are the little gremlins joining high school, then?"
"Uh…" Steve frowns, taking a quick moment to calculate their ages. "Should be next year? Yeah, pretty sure it's their final year of middle school."
"Fresh blood for Hellfire, huh?" Eddie chuckles. "Well, I'm glad the legacy will live on without me. Provided I actually manage to graduate this time around, of course."
Right, Steve remembers. Eddie was his senior last year, before he got left behind and they became classmates. Despite the humor in Eddie's voice, there's a note of something that makes it yet another topic better left untouched. So Steve just waits silently, watching Eddie finally reach for that joint.
"Let's get this show on the road, shall we, Stevie?" Eddie wiggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Steve feel… something, not sure what, in the pit of his stomach.
"Right," he responds with a nod, sliding down to join Eddie on the floor at the foot of the bed. He watches as Eddie raises the joint to his lips and lights it; the brightly lit end crackles quietly as Eddie inhales, leans back against the bed, exhales slowly. The cloud of smoke rising from his lips is weirdly captivating to watch.
Steve flushes, reminding himself that staring at another guy's lips is not generally something that's… acceptable. He tears his gaze away and waits patiently until the joint makes an appearance in front of his face, held up by Eddie's hand. His turn.
"Thanks," he mumbles distractedly, leaning forward to put the joint between his lips and inhales deeply. Only when he leans back and looks at Eddie and sees his big eyes blinking back at him in confusion does he realize that this is another thing he shouldn't have done. Eddie probably expected him to take the joint from him rather than smoke it out of Eddie's hand.
It's something he used to do with Tommy, but… Steve's not stupid, he's very much aware that a whole lot of things him and Tommy did were also beyond the normal boundaries of friendship. And him and Eddie aren't even friends. (Yet? Hopefully? Could they be, really?)
Steve suddenly realizes he's been holding his breath for a while now, and his lungs are beginning to protest. He tries to exhale slowly and casually, but ends up letting out several coughs in the end.
And we've arrived at another fork in the road!
Eddie shifts beside him, and Steve feels him pat his back with some force, until his coughs subside. As he finally draws a normal breath, he expects Eddie to pull back, but the hand resting in the middle of his back lingers.
Eddie breaks the strange mood by laughing, maybe a bit too loudly, nudging Steve and making a joke about him being a lightweight, after all.
Eddie keeps staring at Steve for another long moment, his expression unreadable. Steve looks frantically around the room and spots Eddie's guitar. He asks Eddie to play it, hoping the topic change will distract him from Steve's weird behavior.
We're really sorry it took so long, between real life and Bigbangs this fun project had to take a back seat. But we're back and so are Steve and Eddie. We recommend catching up on the earlier parts to make sense of this one. Things are finally picking up.
"Dunno.” Steve shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and failing miserably. “Just...needed to get away for a bit, I guess.” He pauses to give Eddie a searching look, like Eddie might hold the answer to whatever it is Steve is wondering. “You ever feel like your whole life is falling apart while you're sitting on the bench, unable to do anything about it?"
Eddie fights the urge to turn this into a joke, as he usually does. It's tempting, but something about the way Steve looks at him makes him pause, makes him really think about what Steve is asking. Because the way he looks at him is something Eddie doesn't get to experience very often, like he really wants to know what Eddie thinks, that whatever Eddie is about to answer is important to him.
He’s not used to people caring what the town freak thinks, and he doesn't want to screw it up now that someone does.
"Sitting on the bench comes quite naturally to me, actually," Eddie starts, aiming for at least some levity, but when he sees Steve rolling his eyes, he quickly adds, "But I get that you're using sports analogies as a metaphor here, very clever." Steve turns to look at him, eyes wide, like Eddie said something he’s never heard before. "What, do I have something on my face? In my hair?" Eddie asks, running his fingers through his hair to remove any stray leaves or wildlife.
Steve, honest to God, giggles. "I didn't want to tell you this, but you look like you're moonlighting as a bush." When Eddie continues to fumble with leaves and twigs in his hair, he adds, "Here, lemme," and untangles them from Eddie.
It brings them even closer together, and Eddie can smell Steve's cologne, his laundry detergent, and something he assumes is just Steve. It's a challenge not to just bury his face in Steve's neck to chase that particular delicious smell, but Eddie manages to keep still under Steve's hands. When Steve is done, he leans back and leaves his personal space. Eddie feels strangely bereft, already missing the warmth of the boy's body.
Faced with an unusually quiet Eddie, Steve tilts his head like an adorable golden retriever and looks at him questioningly. Which reminds Eddie that Steve has asked him a question. One that he actually wants to answer honestly.
"All sports metaphors aside, yeah, believe me when I tell you that Eddie Munson? is no stranger to feeling like his life is falling apart. If it's any consolation, you kinda get used to it, in a really weird and probably unhealthy way."
"Wow, you're really bad at this whole cheering up business, has anyone ever told you that?" Steve teases, and Eddie squawks in indignation. He'd probably be more annoyed if it wasn't for the fact that Steve was smiling at him for the first time tonight.
Eddie Munson, you still got it, he thinks.
"You didn't say you wanted to be cheered up, Harrington. I can do that." Eddie tells him, clapping his hands and standing up with a flourish, only to stumble and catch himself against the tree trunk.
Steve is on his feet in an instant and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Despite what you may think, falling on your ass would not cheer me up." He tells Eddie, still a small smile on his face, and his big hand is a warm and comforting weight on his arm. The warmth spreads from there through Eddie's entire body and pools in his stomach. It's a feeling he could get used to, and he's screwed, because that? Is such an epically bad idea.
Forcibly pushing the dangerous thought aside, he tilts his head and gives Steve a big, almost feral grin. "Not the kind of cheering up I had in mind. I was thinking more of enjoying some pizza, cold beer and maybe... some of my finest dope." When Steve just looks at him, Eddie nudges him playfully. "Whaddya say, Stevie?"
Another long moment passes with Steve just... looking at him and Eddie is not quite sure what to make of it. This is one of the top three weirdest nights he's ever had. And there was the time he woke up with a raccoon sitting on his chest and looking down at him with his underwear in its teeth.
Then, as if shaking himself out of whatever stupor he's been in, Steve refocuses his gaze and says, "Uh, yeah. I mean... that sounds good, I think?"
"Whoa, easy with the excitement, don't want you to strain anything."
"Sorry," Steve winces, sounding chastened, "it does sound cool. I was just... surprised, y'know. I didn't think -" he makes a vague gesture with his hand towards Eddie, half shrugs his shoulders in what he probably hopes is an eloquent way of telling Eddie what he didn't think.
Too bad Eddie doesn't speak 'seemingly reformed jock'.
"You didn't think...?" He prompts.
The look on Steve's face tells Eddie that he wishes he had never opened his mouth. He can read that expression so easily because it's a look his own face is painfully familiar with. Eddie is the kind of guy who always manages to put his foot in his mouth. Mostly on purpose, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how it feels to wish he hadn't.
"I didn't think you'd want to spend, I dunno, time with... someone like me. A jock, I mean." Steve tags on, but Eddie saw the way he avoided his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned down. He wonders if he, like everyone else, has no idea who Steve Harrington really is.
The thing is, Eddie's not really used to being vulnerable with other guys. Or girls. Anyone, really. So instead of doing what he really wants to do - hug Steve and tell him that he really, really wants to spend time with him and anyone who doesn't is stupid - he nudges Steve's shoulder and says, "Well, I'm full of surprises. And I mean, you're not planning on throwing balls or anything, are you? Because then I have to take it back. Not the kind of ball handling I ever want to be a part of".
And this is one of those moments when Eddie's face looks like he wishes he had never opened his stupid mouth.
Steve blinks at him, once, twice, then throws his head back and laughs. It's a magnificent sight, even if it's at Eddie's expense. Because it's not mean or mocking. It's amused, maybe even fond. He wants to hear that sound again, as often as possible.
"Okay, I promise only pre-approved ball handling," Steve manages to get out between laughing. " Wouldn't wanna let you drive anyway, so how about I drive you home and we grab a pizza on the way?"
And that's how Eddie Munson, town freak and high school double senior, finds himself in Steve Harrington's bimmer. Parked in front of Tony's Pizza, waiting for the man himself to pick up their food so they can go back to his place and get drunk and maybe even high together. This could be the best or the worst idea he ever had.
Only one way to find out.
Steve hands him the two pizza boxes through the window and climbs back into the car and off they go. Eddie tries to remember what condition the trailer was in when he left and considers asking Steve to wait outside while he gets the beer and pot.
And here are the options, they are fully different scenarios, so they're a bit longer and under the cut.
Option 1:
As they drive down the empty roads toward Forest Hill, Steve watches out of the corner of his eye as Eddie makes himself at home in the passenger seat, opening the glove compartment and sorting through Steve's tapes. He makes fun of some of his albums, but it's not mean. Steve has been the butt of some hurtful "jokes" and this isn't one of them. So instead of getting defensive and mean, he teases Eddie right back. "Do you insult all the people who save your life and buy you pizza?" Eddie just snorts, still busy flipping through his collection. When his eyes land on the latest Springsteen, Born in the USA, he croons, "Not bad, Harrington," and pops it in.
Option 2:
Steve hands him the two pizza boxes through the window and climbs back into the car. While Eddie tries to remember what condition the trailer was in when he left and if he needs to ask Steve to wait outside while he gets the beer and pot, Steve puts his hand behind Eddie's seat to look over his shoulder through the rear windshield. Eddie is about to ask if Steve has ever heard of the rearview mirror when they hear a loud tapping sound coming from Steve's side of the car. They both turn to look at the driver's side window and find none other than Tommy H. looking back at them with a fake cheerful grin.
Option 3:
The drive to the trailer park is a silent one. Steve isn't sure if any of his tapes would appeal to Eddie, and he doesn't think they'll find a radio station they agree on. And he doesn't want to fight over music, not when they seem to get along so well. He never thought he'd enjoy spending time with Eddie Munson of all people, but he does. Eddie is smart and funny and most of all real in a way that his former friends never were. When they get to the trailer park, he lets Eddie direct him to where he lives with his uncle, and when Eddie goes inside, Steve follows without thinking twice. They settle into Eddie's room with some beer and dope and the still warm pizza.
When Eddie lights a blunt after they've each finished their pizza and beer, Steve doesn't think twice, just puts it between his lips and inhales deeply. Only when he looks at Eddie and sees his big eyes blinking back at him in shock does he realize that Eddie probably expected him to use his hands instead of his mouth to reach for the offered blunt.
Option 4:
They're almost at Forest Hill, Eddie slumped in the passenger seat like he's never heard of sitting up straight, when Steve spots the car following them. It's a police car, and as if the driver realizes he's been spotted, he turns on his lights, signaling Steve to pull over to the side of the road. "Oh no, not again." Eddie groans beside him, but before Steve can ask, there's a knock on his window.
"Harrington?" Officer Moore asks, apparently not expecting to find Richard Harrington's son anywhere near where the poor people of this town live. "What are you doing here at this hour? And with," he adds, shining his flashlight in Eddie's face, "Eddie Munson?" Steve's hackles rise at the contempt in his voice.
Option 5:
When they get to the trailer and climb out of the car, the first thing Steve notices is the cold. The car had been cozy with the heat turned up and their shared body heat in the confined space. But outside, the fall air holds the first harbingers of winter, and he looks forward to being in Eddie's trailer.
Eddie, however, seems to have a different idea. "You know," Eddie begins, and Steve looks over to find him gazing up at the night sky, "the stars are really bright tonight. It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra. But the sky's pretty rad." He looks over at Steve with eyes so bright under the porch light they could be stars themselves.
Steve can still feel the cold in his bones from being outside most of the night, and he has been looking forward to curling up inside with pizza and beer. So the only logical thing to say to Eddie's excitement about the bright night sky is, "Yeah, it really is. Listen, y'know what, why don't we sit outside with the pizza and beer? That way we can still see the stars."
Hmmm actually a bit surprised dramatic!Eddie won over immediate physical contact this time 😂
Eddie flops backwards and starfishes across the forest ground, sighing dramatically, confused and mortified about everything that has just transpired. "I'm clearly mortally wounded. Just leave me here to die, Harrington."
He fully expects Steve to do just that. Well, not leave him to die, obviously; just roll his eyes, maybe, and walk away from Eddie, free from whatever moral obligation made him rush over here in the first place, because Eddie’s not actually dying and Steve can obviously see that.
Instead, Eddie watches, eyes wide, as Steve looks at him for a long moment, his expression mostly unreadable, but Eddie could have sworn he saw a hint of amusement there; and then the boy sinks down to the ground, resting his arms over his bent knees.
"Always noticed you were a bit dramatic, Munson. Just thought it's all a big public act,” Steve actually smirks then, but it doesn’t seem mean. More like… teasing? “But it's really just you, huh?”
Eddie struggles to come up with a quick response to that. For one, his brain is stuck on the fact that Steve fucking Harrington noticed him. Except of course he did, it was impossible not to notice Eddie when he literally walked across tables in the cafeteria, gave loud speeches and made a point of regularly rattling the jock cage with creative insults (most of which that crowd was too dumb to understand, which explains why Eddie didn’t get beaten up on a daily basis). Eddie’s mortified and a little pissed at himself for letting his heart jump into his throat, looking for some kind of subtle meaning in Steve’s words.
Besides that, he can’t quite figure out Steve’s behavior, why he’s still here. Asking questions instead of just laughing at Eddie’s gimmicks like everybody else, or calling him names, like the jocks usually do.
Reluctantly, Eddie sits up, then tries to scramble away as casually as possible, because that put him way closer to Steve than he’d intended.
"Public act?" He frowns.
"Well yeah, isn't it what everyone does in that place?” Steve winces. “Put on a mask, play a role, pretend?"
"That's a really cynical way of looking at things, Harrington." Then it makes him think. "Is that what you do?"
Steve just shrugs, picking at the grass next to him.
"Why?"
"It's just easier that way. Or, I don't know... it used to be."
Eddie looks at him for a long moment, can’t help the sudden feeling of disappointment.
"So is that a role you're playing now?” He asks, bitterness seeping into his voice despite the overall mocking tone. “The grand savior of losers and freaks who can't coordinate their limbs to walk properly?"
"...No. I don't think so.” Frustration crosses Steve’s features, although he doesn’t raise his voice. “Fuck, man, why are you being an ass? I was just trying to help you."
"But you wouldn't help me if your buddy Hagan tripped me up, or slammed me into the lockers." It's not a question, a statement. "Doesn't quite fit the role of King Steve, huh?"
Eddie sees Steve flinch at the nickname, one Eddie always presumed Steve wore with pride. But instead of pride, he sees something that looks suspiciously like genuine hurt on his face before Steve schools it in something more akin to his usual mask. But Eddie saw the cracks now and they can't be unseen.
"I guess," Steve answers, his voice bland. When once Eddie would have thought it sounded aloof, he now hears the defeat in it.
Just for a second, he sees Steve's lips tremble, the movement there and gone in seconds, and he only clocks it because they're so close. Then Steve pinches his nose and looks away, and Eddie knows. Steve is hurt, close to tears from the look of it, by something he said.
And maybe he should be gleeful, after everything guys like Steve did to him and his friends. But mostly, he’s just sad for the boy sitting next to him. Eddie feels like he's seen more of the real Steve Harrington in the past ten minutes than in all the years of high school.
"You know what I think?" He says, trying to keep his voice gentler. "I think King Steve is bullshit."
Steve flinches again momentarily, then smirks sadly. "Yeah, I've been called that before."
By whom, Eddie wonders.
"No, you're not listening to me, Harrington. King Steve is bullshit."
Steve finally looks at him, eyebrows pinched, confused.
"You're not him, apparently," Eddie clarifies. "I can't really imagine that guy talking to me in a civil way, let alone rushing to my rescue."
"Well I thought somethi一 someone attacked you," Steve says, sounding embarrassed. "I couldn't just sit and watch."
"Imagine my surprise. Steve Harrington, actually a good dude."
Eddie sighs and shuffles closer to the tree so he can lean back against the trunk. He fishes a half empty pack of Camels out of his vest pocket; maybe it's not the smartest idea to smoke when his whole brain feels too big for his skull, but whatever. He lights one up, inhales, and upon Harrington's quietly extended hand in an obvious request, passes it along.
When Steve passes it back, Eddie tries really hard not to think about the cigarette just having touched the boy's lips.
"Why were you here at this hour, anyway? Alone?" He asks, partly out of curiosity, and partly to distract himself from a dangerous line of thought.
Steve grimaces. "Oh, you know. I thought about bringing a bunch of friends along, except oh wait, I don't have any." He lets out a bitter laugh. "Actually, weirdly, maybe I do, except they are all currently attending the Snow Ball, because they're literally children. Feel free to mock me, dude, I won't even hold it against you."
"Just keeping an eye out for clumsy local drug dealers. Putting my lifeguard skills to good use." Steve shoots him a smile that’s mostly amused and, if Eddie lets himself be completely delusional, a little bit flirty.
"Dunno.” Steve shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and failing miserably. “Just...needed to get away for a bit, I guess.” He pauses to give Eddie a searching look, like Eddie might hold the answer to whatever it is Steve is wondering. “You ever feel like your whole life is falling apart while you're sitting on the bench, unable to do anything about it?"
"Why do you care?” Steve asks, annoyed. “If you wanna make fun of me you gotta get in line, dude."
Steve turns away and says nothing for a while, long enough that Eddie wonders if it was absurd of him to think he can just make conversation with Steve Harrington, after all.
Eddie sees Steve tense out of the corner of his eye and almost regrets asking. They had just settled into something one could almost call comfortable companionship. “I don’t know. What are you doing here at this hour, Munson?”
Another sweep, who'd have guessed you all want these two to touch on the first possible occasion. 🙄
Staring wistfully at the night sky above him, Steve is about to make a wish upon a shooting star when he is startled by a loud voice from somewhere behind him, cursing up a storm, "Ahhh motherfucker fuck shit goddammit son of a bitch!"
It's a male voice, one he vaguely recognizes, and it sounds alarmed.
Steve is on his feet before he knows it, the adrenaline rush making him hyper-aware of his surroundings, every muscle tensed and ready to spring into action. Looking around in panic, his hands itch to grab his nail-studded bat, but it's not here, it's still in the back of his trunk. He could make a run for it while whatever had startled the owner of that voice is distracted by attacking someone else.
King Steve might (very probably) have done that. Running away, thinking only of his own safety. But he's not that guy anymore.
That guy died a year ago in Jonathan Buyers' house.
Instead of running away, Steve is running toward the voice and the threat it represents.
When he stumbles down the top of Skull Rock, clumsy in his haste, the first thing he sees isn't the otherworldly sight of a fanged maw descending on anyone unfortunate enough to cross its path.
No, Steve stops behind a guy about his age, whose short dark curls look somehow familiar, sitting on the ground and holding his (bleeding?) head. There is no one, and more importantly, nothing around but the mystery dude, so Steve steps even closer and takes a look at the guy's face.
It's kind of pretty, is the first thing he notices. For a guy, anyway. He just looks so soft. Big dark eyes, wide nose and full lips framed by high cheekbones. That's objectively pretty, right?
He also looks like he's in pain, his hand pressed to the side of his face and his mouth pinched in a wince.
"Shit, man, that must have stung." Steve crouches down beside him and reaches for his face without thinking, causing him to yelp again in startled surprise. A hissing gasp follows, the action clearly causing more pain to flare up in his head.
As he turns his face fully toward Steve, the puzzle pieces of his hair, leather jacket, and pretty face finally fall into place in Steve's head.
This is Eddie Munson, Hawkins High's resident freak and local drug dealer. Tommy buys all his weed from Munson, and also Steve's. Most of the guys on the basketball team do too, as far as he knows. But what is he doing here in the middle of the night?
Munson looks at him with wide eyes, a hint of fear in them. When Steve's hand touches his cheek to examine whatever it is that makes Munson look like he's in pain, he finds it blazing. Munson jerks his head back as if Steve had burned him, not the other way around.
"Here, lemme see if you're hurt," Steve says, pulling Munson's hand away and turning his head so he can get a better look.
There are some scratches on his cheek and the skin around his eye looks tender and reddish, the area already slightly swollen. His eyes are very dark with the little light from the moon and stars above, and it's hard to tell if his pupils are dilated or not.
"Do you feel nauseous? Do you see spots of light dancing in your vision? Ringing in your ears? Dizziness when you move your head?" Steve asks him, remembering all the things that ailed him long after Jonathan tried to rearrange his face, and then again when Billy tried to finish the job and Steve's life.
The guy keeps staring at him with his big dark eyes and Steve wonders if he has a concussion so bad that he can't hear what Steve is saying. "Munson?"
Hearing his name on Steve's lips (or reading it, judging by the intense way he's staring at them) does the trick, and his eyes make contact with Steve's.
"'Uhm...'" is all he says, and Steve is just about to repeat himself when Munson visibly shakes himself out of whatever stupor he's been in.
"I... I'm fine. Peachy. Just wanted to sit down for a bit. Didn't know that wasn't allowed, so I'll just..." and he points vaguely in the direction of the path leading out of the woods and onto the road, trying to get up.
Steve catches him as he staggers while trying to get to his feet but plops down again heavily, wincing in pain at the way he jars his head. "Bullshit," Steve snaps, the word still making him flinch slightly, but he pushes on. "You clearly hit your head, man. Believe me, I know a thing or two about concussions and how much they suck. You should get that checked out if you don't want to spend the next few days puking and shaking with the worst headache of your life."
Shit, he didn't mean to say that much, but something about the way Munson looked at him made him babble, words coming out of him unbidden and unwanted. He didn't tell anyone how bad it was after he came home the night Eleven closed the goddamn Hell Gate.
He only notices his thumb tracing the bruise next to Munson's eye when he hisses again and Steve hastily pulls his hand away. "Sorry."
"It's, uh, fine. I just... man, this sucks. I'm glad I only hit a branch and not Hargrove's fist, because that sounds bad. It went away though, right? I mean, you went to school every day and who would do that if they felt like that.”
Steve rubs his neck, unsure how to react. Actually, he would. Because he couldn't fail, and his parents weren't there, but they would have heard if he stopped going to school.
Instead of saying anything, he holds out his hand in a clear invitation for Munson to take it so Steve can help him up. It's eyed as if it's going to turn into a fist at any moment, and Steve is once again reminded of how the people at the school perceive him: an asshole who would hit someone who is already on the ground. Great.
Why it still stings, he doesn't know. Or why he wants Munson to take his hand so badly, to trust Steve that he only wants to help.
And here are your options to choose what happens!
Eddie stares at his hand for a moment, winces and scrambles to get up to his feet on his own. "No offense, dude, but I've seen you pull that move where you pretend to lift a guy off the floor only to let go half-way, and my ass can't take any more."
Eddie eyes Steve's hand suspiciously, then grasps it hesitantly. Steve pulls, hard, completely misjudging how much skinnier Eddie is compared to most of his basketball buddies. Complete with Eddie's sudden light-headedness when he's upright, the inertia throws Eddie forward, slamming right into Steve.
Eddie's face slowly splits into a teasing grin as he takes Steve's hand and is being pulled upright. "Why thank you, my knight in shining armor," he presses a hand to his chest and takes a little bow. Still holding Steve's hand, he realizes, and in the moment of pure madness, he brings it to his lips for a brief kiss.
Instead of taking Steve's hand, Eddie flops backwards and starfishes across the forest ground, sighing dramatically, confused and mortified about everything that has just transpired. "I'm clearly mortally wounded. Just leave me here to die, Harrington."
Eddie looks at Steve's hand, then back up at his face, suddenly remembering every sneer, every scathing remark and he can't help the words tumbling from his mouth. "What, are you looking for a new lap dog now that the old one has bitten the hand that fed it? Are you that desperate that you even take the town freak? How pathetic."
Good job everybody on the loser Eddie sweep last poll! Collect your reward.
Eddie’s in a good mood tonight, whistling quietly to himself as he takes a walk along the shore of Lover’s Lake, the path illuminated enough by the moon so he isn’t at risk of plunging into the cold water. He counts the crumpled bills once more and does some quick mental math his teachers would be impressed with, if it weren’t for the context.
He sold almost all that remained of this week’s stash tonight, which means, after paying Rick back the 200 bucks he owes, there’s plenty left over to help his uncle cover the bills and groceries next month, and even some to put in the jar under his bed. Eddie thinks again of the beautiful red Warlock guitar, showcased at the music store in Indy, and sighs dreamily.
“Soon, sweetheart. Very soon, you will be mine,” he mumbles to himself, smiling and tucking the cash back into the chest pocket of his vest, fastening the button securely. Can’t take any risks.
Just as he’s about to head back to where he parked his van, something catches his eye at the top of Skull Rock. Squinting in the darkness, as the moon picked that exact moment to hide behind a cloud, Eddie spots the obvious outline of a guy lying there on top, motionless.
Slightly concerned, Eddie approaches quietly. There’s a good chance it’s one of his earlier customers, just chilling up there after a joint, but if he fell asleep… the temperatures were supposed to drop that night, and depending how high the guy was, it might not be safe to just leave him there.
Not that Eddie would shed too many tears over any of the jocks buying from him. It’s purely practical. He has a solid, but rather small client base; would be a shame to lose one of his annoying party-loving sheep to hypothermia.
The moon suddenly comes back out, illuminating Skull Rock, and Eddie freezes on the spot. He recognizes the guy’s face.
Harrington hasn’t exactly been a customer of his. The King was just too high and mighty to do his own weed shopping, apparently; so it was usually his lapdog, Hagan, who approached Eddie with a roll of cash.
Former lapdog, Eddie corrects himself in his mind. Hagan was attached to Harrington’s hip for as long as Eddie can remember, in a way Eddie had very specific thoughts on. Then, something happened; Eddie usually didn’t bother following the rumor mill, but… okay, maybe, when it came to Steve Harrington, he actually paid attention. It was goddamn Steve Harrington, okay? Eddie’s fairly sure it’s physically impossible for anyone even slightly attracted to men to not have a crush on the guy, as annoying as it is.
So of course Eddie noticed when suddenly, last year, the King came to school with a split lip and a black eye, and his little group of worshipers no longer followed him around like a bunch of rabid puppies; and then, just a while ago, Nancy Wheeler apparently left him for Byers... Eddie would have chalked it up to stupid teenage drama, if it weren’t for Harrington’s face after Halloween; this time, it was bad, way worse, all purple and swollen. It’s how you look after someone tries to fucking kill you, not just beat you up. Eddie would know.
Anyways… he’d much rather keep seeing Harrington alive, if only for the sake of being Eddie’s daily dose of eye candy. Eddie takes a step forward, intending to call out and check on the guy, when Steve Harrington shifts, stretches his legs, and when he turns his head a bit, Eddie realizes his eyes are open.
Fine, then. Eddie’s job here is done. No need to go through the whole awkward ordeal of having an actual conversation with his embarrassing crush. Turning on his heels, Eddie starts quickly walking in the direction of his van. He glances back for just a moment, checking if the guy spotted him…
A sharp burst of pain in the side of his face stops him as he smacks face first into a low hanging branch; to make things worse, inertia sends him reeling backwards.
"Ahhh motherfucker fuck shit goddammit son of a bitch!" Eddie yells into the night as he flails his arms in the air, to no avail, loses his balance and falls on his butt.
Wincing, Eddie reaches for the side of his face, checking for damage; looks like the skin isn’t broken, or he’d have felt blood on his fingers, and his eye is thankfully intact, but his head hurts like a motherfucker. So does his butt. Of course he had to fall on a thick tree root sticking out of the ground.
And then, to make matters worse, he hears footsteps nearby; jerking his head to the side, Eddie sees Harrington jogging towards him.
Wonderful. Just… fucking wonderful. Not only has he been noticed, he just made a total ass of himself in front of the guy. Eddie closes his eyes, scrambling though his aching brain for some hilarious retort to the inevitable upcoming mockery.
Are Eddie's concerns warranted? Perhaps not? You get to decide what happens!
"Touchdown, Munson! Didn't know you played football," Steve calls out as he's jogging closer, openly laughing.
"What the fuck was that, dude. You really should lay off the weed, heard it's bad for your motor function." Steve's tone is weird. Almost sounding like a concerned, yet slightly annoyed parent.
Steve has a hand over his mouth, mostly containing his amused giggles. "Shit. Sorry, man, that was just... that was epic."
There's a frown on Steve's face as he approaches. He hovers over Eddie, as if unsure if he should step closer. "Munson? You all right?"
"Shit, man, that must've stung." Steve crouches by Eddie, frowning, reaching for his chin and turning Eddie's head to look at the injured side. "Any ringing in your ears? Blurry vision?"
Steve runs up to Eddie, yelling, "Where is it? Where did it go?!" Eyes wild and fists balled, as if ready to fight.
Hi everyone! Thank y'all for your votes on the first poll. The public demanded Steve and Eddie meeting on Skull Rock (S2, after Stancy break-up) and so the public gets it.
"Good luck." Steve says to Dustin, holding out his hand for the boy to shake. Dustin does so before climbing out of Steve's car and walking straight up to the teacher manning the entrance.
From this angle, Steve can't see who it is, but he sees Dustin's smile and the confident way he holds himself, and Steve is...proud. Proud that Dustin got through the first time a girl kind of broke his heart by choosing his friend over him. Proud that he had a hand in that new found confidence. Proud that he might be a shitty boyfriend, but apparently a damn good babysitter.
The warm, happy feeling dissipates as his eyes wander from Dustin to the doors of the gym and fall on Nancy. She looks so beautiful, with her curls up and soft strands framing her face, her petite figure hugged by a red and black plaid dress, a belt showing off her slender waist. He remembers how it felt to wrap his arm around that waist, or to grab her with both hands and lift her up, twirling her in a circle before kissing her full lips.
Taking a deep breath, he tears his eyes away from her smiling face, reminding himself that she's no longer his. She's with Jonathan now, and Steve? Steve is alone. No parents, no friends, no girlfriend.
So he drives away, into the dark and silent night, away from the dancing kids and smiling chaperones. Away from the happy music and the shimmering warm lights. He just drives and drives and drives, for what feels like miles and miles, hours and hours.
Or it could have been just minutes, because the next thing he knows, he's parked on a dirt road leading up to a very familiar place.
Skull Rock.
His favorite place to smoke weed with Tommy when Carol was busy or to take girls for make-out sessions. Well, before Nancy of course. He hasn't been here for over a year. It feels a lot longer.
Still, his feet find their way easily, and soon he climbs up the skull-shaped rock and sinks onto the cold stone. He lies on his back and stares up at the starry sky, marveling at how much has changed since the last time he was here. The Steve of that time didn't know about monsters, or heartbreak, or what it feels like to get punched in the face so hard that his ears still ring some days.
A shooting star races across the sky and Steve wants to wish he could be that Steve again. A Steve whose only problems are a big, empty house and whether he'll pass Ms. Click's class. But he can't, something in him refuses to be that guy again, so instead he closes his eyes and wishes for—
A voice he cannot quite place startles him before he can even finish making his wish.
What will our dear Eddie say? You can choose one of the following options:
"Well, well, well, if it isn't King Steve himself."
"Hey, man. You look like you could use some cheering up from my good friend MaryJane."
(Fake British accent) "Good sir, would you be interested in our finest selection of grasses?"
"Little late to be picking up ladies 'round here, Harrington. Only big bad wolves here this time of the night. Unless that's your thing?"
"Spot's closed for the public tonight, Harrington. Even for royalty. So scoot."
(Pained hissing) "Ahhh motherfucker fuck shit goddammit son of a bitch!"
Everyone, great job! 540 people voted on how our beloved blorbos should meet and the whooping winner is Eddie stumbles upon Steve at Skull Rock after a deal (s2, post-Stancy breakup) with 18 percent of the votes.
Very close seconds were Eddie walks into Scoops Ahoy (s3) (15.9%) and Wounded Eddie recovering in Steve's house (post-s4) (15.7%).
This means that we will be writing a little snippet to set the scene for Steve and Eddie to meet at Skull Rock at the end of Season 2 (yes, the red sweater scene 🤤) and then it will be up to you again to vote how we’ll proceed.
We can’t wait to get started and see where the story (or rather where you) will take us 🫶
