#beautiful #having just finished writing my Bladerunner inspired chapter of my WIP finding this on my dashboard feels like destiny #steddie #stranger things
Ever since Eddie was released from the hospital, Steve has been avoiding him like the plague.
Not that Eddie expected them to strike up a great friendship or bond over their trauma like blood brothers or something (Eddie imagines telling Steve: get it? because my blood was in your mouth, haha...ha), but it gets to a point where, at the very least, he wants to thank him for saving his ass from certain death.
But these days, every time he gets close to the man, he looks like he's seen a ghost. At Family Video, Steve pushes Robin to the front of the counter the moment Eddie enters, then stumbles into a life-size cutout of Tom Cruise in aviator glasses before disappearing into the back room. Or that time when they accidentally bumped into each other at the grocery store, and Steve just left his cart in the middle of the aisle before sprinting to the exit. When Steve picks up the brats from Hellfire, he doesn't even get out of the car, just honks and honks until the whole throttle of kids climbs inside his bimmer with agonized groans.
Eddie, out of his depth here, asks Dustin, "What do you think Harrington would like to receive as a thank-you gift for saving my life?"
And Dustin, clearly not interested in giving this topic more than a couple of his brain cells' attention while reading his newest X-Men comic, answers, "Flowers, I guess. At least that's what he picked up for Nancy whenever he messed up."
Eddie grimaces at that. He can't imagine handing Harrington a bouquet of roses, not that he even has the budget for it.
But there is a place just south of Forest Hill that he knows has a large field of wildflowers. He ends up there that afternoon, and spends several hours finding flowers that he imagines look similar to those you would find in a real bouquet from a fancy florist.
When he's finally satisfied with the colorful collection, his hands are rubbed raw and pink from cutting them at the stems, and it's getting dark. He finds a rubber band in his truck to keep the flowers bound together, then heads to Family Video.
He doesn't make the same mistake as usual, but waits in his truck until he sees Robin and Steve at the doors instead. They're in some kind of deep discussion while they close up based on the way Steve's hand flail about.
Eddie jumps out of the truck, yells, "Harrington!" realizing a moment too late, he sounds unhinged and like he's trying to murder the guy.
Steve freezes the moment he sees Eddie, then he turns to Robin, whispering urgently into her ear. Robin hisses something back, shakes her head, and pries her arm out of Steve's hold.
"That's on you," she says before walking away, ignoring the pleading look in Steve's eyes.
She throws Eddie a grin when she passes him by.
"Hi, Eddie," she says, "got him finally cornered, huh?"
Steve is pressed up against the glass door behind his back, stands as straight and narrow as if he's a soldier waiting for a command.
Eddie huffs a frustrated breath. "What's up with your attitude, Harrington?"
"Attitude? What attitude?" he squeaks, having intense eye contact with the devil printed on the shirt covering Eddie's chest. He's acting insane. And that's saying something coming from Eddie.
Eddie sighs, rubs his face with his free hand, then pulls the flowers from behind his back.
"Here," he says, pushing the bouquet between them. "For you."
Steve looks a little bit like he was struck by lightning. His hair is always standing up, but it seems as if the whole situation has electrified it even more, his cheeks turning ruddy, his mouth open in a small gasp, his eyes wide.
"Uh."
"Take it," Eddie says, losing his patience, then realizes that this is probably the worst thank you anybody has ever received.
"I- I thought you didn't mean it," Steve stammers, eyes flicking up to Eddie's for just a second before he has to look away again.
Eddie frowns, tries to think very hard about why Steve would think Eddie's thank-you would be anything but genuine.
"Of course, I mean it," Eddie barks, bites his tongue, then says a little gentler, "I mean, duh, how could you think I don't?"
"Oh," Steve says, his entire face burning red. He carefully takes the flowers out of Eddie's hands, still looking anywhere but at Eddie. "No, I just mean- I mean I would get it. If it was just a joke. Like you know, how you laughed right after I agreed to your... uh, proposal. Like, haha, ridiculous, don't fret, Harrington, obviously I'm not serious."
Eddie is lost. He can't remember ever laughing at anything in Steve's presence, nor having a conversation in which Steve agreed to any kind of proposal. Eddie hums, scratches his chin, then says something that makes no sense, but that a whirring, humming part inside his chest insists he says,
"I mean, I was not not serious."
Steve ducks his head, presses his lips into a thin smile, skin flushed to the point that Eddie thinks he might burn his fingertips on Steve's cheeks if he touched him. Eddie's brain still hasn't caught up with his body's reaction to the whole situation, he just knows that whatever Steve is assuming, he wants him to keep assuming it.
"Okay," Steve finally says. And then he looks at Eddie, and the entire world narrows down to that pretty smile on Steve's lips. There's no Family Video, no parking lot, no smell of wet asphalt and exhaust.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay. I mean, I already said so that day in the hospital, but I know you were probably high on all those painkillers, and then you were... laughing, so- I thought, you know what, it might be for the better, right? I mean, there was that whole crisis you threw me into for the last few weeks, but it was just a joke, right? Haha? Steve got the wrong idea again. Not that I'm holding a grudge, or that it would make me-"
"Flee as soon as you see me?"
"Yeah, I guess I did that, huh?"
"Right," Eddie says, carefully arranging the puzzle pieces Steve's laid out for him about painkillers and conversations in the hospital, proposals that were agreed to, and jokes that were made afterwards. His brain feels like it was dipped in molasses, though, and everything makes just kind of sense, but also it really doesn't.
"You're not joking right now?" Steve asks, gesturing around with the flowers. "These are-?"
"Serious flowers," Eddie replies, because that's one thing he knows for sure. "I picked them myself." He lifts his hands, shows off his blistered skin in the spare light.
Steve's nervously chewing on his bottom lip, glancing around the dark, deserted parking lot, and next thing Eddie knows, he's leaning in, and Eddie's mind implodes with a certain, blinding kind of clarity that has him shake in his boots.
It's not even close to how he thought his thank-you flowers would be received, but he takes it, oh, he so fucking takes it. He kisses Steve back just for a millisecond, but Steve laughs against his mouth, and Eddie's heart drops into his stomach. Maybe that's the joke now? Is Eddie the joke?
But Steve doesn't pull away, keeps smiling into the kiss. "I've never been wooed before," he snickers.
"Oh?" Eddie croaks because that's all his brain can provide.
"I like it," Steve says, then leans in to kiss Eddie again, but better.
If someone told Steve a few years ago that he would regularly lift Eddie Munson into his arms, he would have advised the poor soul to take a long vacation at Pennhurst.
But here he is, holding Eddie against the humming fridge in his dark kitchen, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, with not a single inch of space between their bodies, Eddie's wide, dark eyes fixed on his.
"Two is a coincidence..." Eddie mutters, licking his lips, letting the rest of the sentence dwindle out as Steve's eyes fall shut.
It all starts here:
A hot summer day, them sitting on the lounge chairs next to the pool in nothing but swimming trunks, nursing two cold Coke bottles, when Steve notices something off with Eddie.
"What happened to you, man?" He points his bottle at Eddie's ribs, the large purple bruise on his pale skin enough to have him wince in sympathy. Eddie looks down at himself, then flushes, a pretty pink spreading across his sternum, climbing along his throat and into his cheeks.
"Oh, this?" he asks, sheepishly. "Just a little accident."
"What kind of accident?"
"Just, you know..." Eddie shrugs, turns his head away from Steve, hiding the heat in his face.
Steve frowns at him, unsatisfied with the non-answer. Then, it dawns on him.
"You mean that happened during...?"
Eddie blushes even harder if that's possible. Steve's never seen him like this. He's normally so shameless, flaunting his opinions loud and proud.
"Yeah, Steve, it happened during dot dot dot. Satisfied?"
Steve is, and he isn't. Because how would you even get bruised like that during sex? Unless...
"Did somebody do that to you? Like on purpose?" Does Steve have to drive all the way up to Indy to beat up one of Eddie's hookups?
"No, nothing like that." Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. "I fell."
"You fell?" Steve looks down at his Coke bottle. "You fell from what?"
Eddie thumps his head back against the chair, eyes rising towards the sky like he's praying for patience. "From the hot guy's arms I was in, okay?"
Steve chokes on the sip of Coke, he was just about to swallow. "You mean you had sex while standing up?"
"Not exactly sex," Eddie says and shakes his head. "Just making out, I guess."
"Somebody made out with you while lifting you up?" The words feel weird in Steve's mouth, tacky, as if they should have stayed glued to his palate.
"Seems impossible, right? Should've known it could only end in disaster," Eddie laughs. "It was hot in the moment, though. Before he let me fall, and I hit the dresser next to us. Being worried that I might've fractured a rib was kinda a mood killer. Don't think we'll see each other again."
"It's not impossible," Steve remarks, before he can think better of it. "I made out lifting the other person up before. Multiple times."
If possible, the heat in Eddie's cheeks burns even brighter now. Is he getting sunburned? Steve should probably get out the aloe for him later.
"With girls. It's not the same."
"I could easily lift your bony ass, Munson."
Eddie stares at him with raised brows, then scoffs. "Sure, Harrington."
Steve feels his fingers itch with the desire to prove himself, but before he can act on the impulse, Eddie's up and jumps into the pool, splashing water all over Steve's shins.
Steve's determined not to let it drop.
The first time he gets the opportunity is a few nights later when they hang out at the Munson trailer. They climb on top of the roof to split a joint between them, smoking and talking about nothing and everything, about their days, about their friends, about their random shower thoughts.
He likes that about Eddie, how easy things are with him. Eddie's one of those friends who can go on long tirades about the constraints of society, but he never judges Steve, even when they disagree. It's new for Steve, too, to hang out with someone who doesn't think his thoughts and ideas are stupid, even when he tries to estimate how many slices of pizza he's eaten in his lifetime.
So, when he finally jumps off the trailer's roof, a little higher and a little more giggly than before, and Eddie looks down from where he's sitting, worrying his lower lip, Steve doesn't hesitate to open his arms for him.
"Was this always this high?" Eddie asks, and Steve can't help but laugh.
"C'mon, Munson, I've got you."
Eddie doesn't look entirely convinced, so Steve adds, "I would never let you fall, promise."
Next thing he knows, Eddie pushes off the edge of the trailer. Steve catches him around the middle, Eddie's hands landing on his shoulder, fingers digging deep into his flesh.
Steve looks up at him with a happy chuckle, says, "See?" and Eddie's eyes get all wide and startled. He looks kinda pretty, Steve thinks while he keeps Eddie lifted off the ground for a moment longer, what with that star-sprinkled sky behind him.
Then he slowly lowers Eddie down on his feet, showing off his muscles and proving he can indeed lift Eddie without making him fall, even if only for a moment.
They don't talk about it afterwards. Just head inside, cook mac and cheese from the box.
The second time it happens, Eddie's drunk on Steve's couch. They made cocktails with the contents of his parents' liquor cabinet and exotic juices Robin brought from the store while watching Rocky Horror. Steve's not a big fan of sticky-sweet alcohol, so he's mostly stayed faithful to his beer and is thus the only one relatively sober among the three of them.
Robin's already headed up to crash in the guestroom, but Eddie's apparently content with falling asleep right here, in his uncomfortable clothes, without washing up.
"C'mon, Ed, get up," Steve groans, trying to pull him into a standing position by his arm.
"Just leave me here," he grumbles, "don't wanna move."
"Ah, ah," Steve chastises him. "We don't skip the bedtime routine in the Harrington household. You had a lot of sugar, so you have to brush your teeth. Either get your ass up yourself, or I'll carry you to the bathroom."
"Yeah," Eddie laughs, slumps down even further. "As if."
Steve leans down before he can rethink his decision, guiding Eddie's arms around his neck, then sliding one hand below his thigh, and the other around his middle, holding on fast. He lifts him up and into his arms with a grunt, jostling him up and resettling his grip by holding onto both of his thighs.
Eddie's not exactly heavy, but his drunken wobbliness makes it a bit of a challenge to carry him up the stairs to the second floor, still.
"What the fuck, Harrington?" he mumbles into Steve's shoulder, arms curled tight around Steve's neck. Steve turns his head, inhales Eddie's musk- tobacco, and something a little more spicy- tries to ignore the demanding beat of his own heart.
He kicks open the door to his bathroom, sets Eddie on top of the marble countertop, then searches for the spare toothbrush under the sink. He wets it under the tap, then squeezes a bit of toothpaste onto it and hands it to Eddie, who looks at it as if Steve just handed him a weird insect.
Steve ignores his skeptical look in favor of brushing his own teeth, then hands Eddie a cup of water to rinse his mouth. There's no logical reason for Steve to lift Eddie in his arms again afterward, besides wanting to do so.
Eddie curls around him like a koala, not even questioning Steve's motives anymore, holds on like he never wants Steve to let him go. Steve's stomach flips when one of Eddie's hands buries inside his hair at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his strands, one of his rings snatching on a stand, the sharp pain enough for Steve to have to suppress a moan.
He puts Eddie on his bed before he does something he will regret later, tosses some clean sweatpants at him, then goes downstairs to clean up the total mess Robin and Eddie left in his kitchen. When he comes back, Eddie is already asleep, face pressed into Steve's pillow, like he's trying to soak up every bit of Steve's scent.
It gets a little more complicated for Steve after that. The kicking of his heart, the nervous flutter in his gut, are still there, and they're getting harder to ignore. There's not much chance to lift Eddie up, and Steve's feeling a little desperate to hold Eddie in his arms, to feel his breath against his neck, those strong fingers digging into his skin, holding onto his hair.
Opportunity finally arises a few weeks later, when they're in Steve's backyard again, playing Badminton (the only sport Steve could convince Eddie to give a chance).
Suddenly, Eddie yelps, tugging his bare foot around to inspect the sole of it.
"Shit, fucking ouch," he hisses when Steve hurries over, "I think I stepped on a bee."
Steve doesn't hesitate to pick Eddie up, just this time, he puts an arm beneath his knees and the other around his shoulders.
"Did I hit my head, too?" Eddie wonders, but is still holding onto Steve's neck as he always does. "I think I'm getting carried princess style by one Steve Harrington."
Eddie swoons and puts the back of his hand against his forehead. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes in answer, doesn't know what to say to make it less weird. He carries Eddie into the kitchen, sets him on the kitchen counter, then gets an onion and slices it into half before pressing it to the swollen spot on Eddie's foot.
"Do you think the bee is okay?" Eddie asks, and Steve thinks he's a little bit in love with him.
The fourth time it happens, it's on Eddie. He comes storming into Steve's house, calling for him, calling, "Steve, Steve, I've got the job at the garage!"
Steve steps out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel, when Eddie flings himself at him, arms curled tight around his neck. Steve's got no choice but to drop the dish towel, curling his arms around Eddie's waist and whirling him around until they're both dizzy with laughter.
So.
Two is a coincidence.
Three is a pattern.
Five. Well. Five might be a bit of a problem.
That final time in his kitchen at night, happens like this:
The other side of Steve's bed is empty, even though Eddie stayed over. They haven't felt awkward about sharing a bed in a long time, which Steve realizes might seem a little strange in itself, but since they're both members of the regular nightmares club…
Steve heads down, finds Eddie in the kitchen refilling a glass with water from the tap.
"Did I wake you?" he asks, and turns to Steve, leaning against the counter. He looks so good like this, with Steve's shorts a little too big on him and slung low on his hips, hair all tousled from sleep, slim fingers ringless for once. Pretty eyes, pretty lips, even the exact cut of his chin is pretty.
Steve didn't plan for it to happen like this, didn't plan for anything to happen at all, really, but he tugs Eddie's glass out of his hand, places it on the counter, then bends his knees to lift him into his arms, slowly, fabric sliding against fabric.
Eddie's thighs come around Steve's waist like they've rehearsed this, like they've done this a million times before, will a million times more. Steve takes a few steps to the side, trying to find a surface he can secure Eddie against, finds the tall fridge to be perfect for that.
Eddie gasps when his back comes into contact with the cold metal, and he tightens his arms and legs around Steve. For a short moment, they only look at each other, breathing hard against each other.
"Two is a coincidence..." Eddie mutters, licking his lips. Steve lets his eyes fall shut, leans in until his nose slides against Eddie's. His heart is stuck in his throat at this point, his fingers tingling where they're digging into the naked skin of Eddie's thighs. He slides them a bit higher, high enough that they slip under the hem of his shorts.
"Five?" Steve breathes. "What is five?"
"Five is a confession," Eddie whispers back. Steve can't help but press his smile against the edge of Eddie's jaw. God, he likes him so much.
"Do you have any idea what this does to me?" Eddie groans, fingers curling in Steve's hair and tugging on it until Steve moans against his skin. "Lifting me in your freakishly strong arms like it's nothing? Promising me not to let me fall? Jesus freaking Christ, I thought I was going to spontaneously combust every time."
"Yeah?" He hums, pulls away enough to look at Eddie in the spare light of his dark kitchen. Steve's still grinning, his cheeks aching from it.
"Are you always this competitive, Harrington?"
"I like to be the best at whatever I do. Sue me," Steve shrugs, jostling Eddie in his arms in the process.
"Well, we haven't made out yet, so the jury is still out on whether you can do it without dropping me on my ass."
Steve's mouth lands on Eddie's true and right. Kissing the sass right out of him, kissing him pliant and soft, until Eddie's shivering and sighing in his arms.
True to his word, he doesn't let Eddie fall. Not even twenty minutes later, when their kisses have turned hard and heavy, when his hold on Eddie has gotten so tight, he's leaving his own kind of bruises on him.
That liminal space when you're accidentally stumbling into a pairing you don't know the source material of, and you don't really know what is fanon and what is canon, but after reading about a thousand fics, you know for absolute certain that their love story is written in the stars and that you would die for these fools to get it.
Steve is intimately familiar with jealousy in a way he doesn't think most people are. He's been left before, replaced. He knows the burning, bile-inducing sensation of seeing your person with somebody else.
He is still absolutely blindsided by it when Eddie tells him that he's going to Indy the following weekend to meet his previous hookup from a few weeks ago.
Eddie is not his. Eddie can do with his time, with his body, with his feelings, whatever he wants. There's not a single reason in the whole of the universe for Steve to feel jealous.
And, still, knowing the feeling so well, having endured it for so long, he knows there's no other explanation for it.
It's jealousy that makes him snap at Robin when she makes a remark on how the humidity has made his hair explode into untameable curls.
It's jealousy that has him stewing in front of the TV that night with a bottle of lukewarm beer crushed between his knees. Jealousy that has him take a too-hot turned too-cold shower, and scrub his skin until it's an angry red. Jealousy that has him staring at the ceiling at night, kicking at his blanket.
Jealousy, the green-eyed monster that lurks in the dark corner of his bedroom. Jealousy that twists his stomach into a tight knot.
It's worse the next day, when Eddie's around the WSQK, going through their vinyl collection, planning a special late-night rock show together with Robin for all the freaks in Hawkins.
Steve's not done much to expose how he really feels yet, beyond flicking through a magazine about cars or some shit, occasionally frowning in their direction.
But it comes to a head when Robin leaves first to get ready for her date with Vickie and asks Steve to close up the station after Eddie. Eddie's being his usual chaotic self, pulling out Vinyl after Vinyl and taking them out of their sleeves without putting them back properly, forcing Steve to grumblingly clean up after him while Eddie rattles down the entire history of rock ' n ' roll.
When Eddie leans against one of the shelves with his shoulders, gesturing wildly with his arms while rambling about how Elvis was a truck driver before he became a star, Steve ruffs his hair in frustration, combs it back, then pins Eddie down with a glare.
"Do you ever shut up, dude?" he scathingly asks. Eddie's grin falters, his hands falling to his side.
"Seriously," Steve mutters, turns away because he can't stand seeing that hurt in Eddie's large eyes, "You should come with an off-button."
"What- What's crawled up your butt?" Eddie asks, but he sounds more shocked than angry.
"Nothing," Steve throws back, taking the Vinyls he's just put back in order and sliding them into the shelf next to where Eddie's still standing, frozen. "You're just a lot, man. Not really in the mood to babysit your loud ass every night."
He glances at Eddie from the corner of his eye, sees him clench his jaw, nodding along to Steve's words. They've been bickering before, made fun of each other, but never like this, never with any serious intent to hurt the other.
Steve feels like a prick. He wishes Eddie would just punch him, hurl something back at Steve that would hurt just as much.
"Yeah," Eddie says, laughs an almost inaudible, "Christ," to himself before pushing off the shelves. "I just get out of your hair then, Harrington." Another humorless laugh. "Ha, hair, get it?"
Steve doesn't. Steve doesn't get anything anymore. Especially not himself, and how he can act so carelessly with somebody else's feelings. Again.
He's the worst friend. Hasn't learned any of his lessons.
"Eddie," he calls at his retreating back. "You're not getting out of here before you clean up your mess."
Not what he wants to say, but god, he's still so angry.
Eddie throws him the bird over his shoulder and keeps walking.
"Munson!" Steve bellows, storming after him. He shoves Eddie's shoulder when he catches up with him at the entrance doors. Eddie stumbles around and shoves him back with a palm against his chest, hard. And, yes, fuck that's what he wants, Eddie angry, furious, pushing into his space, breathing hard.
"Don't be a fucking brat," Steve seethes.
"How about you stop being such a dick, then?"
Steve wrinkles his nose, steps in closer. Eddie backs away, colliding with the door behind him. His eyes widen, but Steve doesn't back off, gets right into his space, curling his fingers into the collar of his shirt.
"Jesus, Harrington. You're really itching for a fight tonight, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Steve agrees, sees no point in denying it. "Will you give me one?"
Eddie frowns at that, eyes flickering down to Steve's parted lips where he's panting. Then his hands come around Steve's wrists, and he's pushed backwards, sideways, shoved right into the wall next to the doors, Eddie's rings biting into his skin. Steve grunts at the impact, pulls harder on Eddie's shirt, lifts his chin in defiance.
"You're gonna explain the bruises to Henderson, then?" Eddie growls, and Steve can't help but remember the time he had him pushed against the boathouse, broken bottle at his neck, Steve's heart racing, running away from him, just like now, and still different.
"You're gonna mess me up, Munson?"
"Only if you keep running your mouth," Eddie says, even lower, eyes flicking down again, fingers tightening around Steve's wrists, callouses pressed right into his throbbing pulse in a way that almost hurts.
"Do your worst, asshole," Steve hurls back, tugging so hard on Eddie's shirt collar that a seam pops.
Eddie seems at a loss for words, his frown deepening. Then, he pushes a thigh between Steve's, tilting his head.
"This is what you want?" He pushes his thigh higher, high enough that it comes in contact with where Steve is rapidly hardening, chokes all the air out of his lungs.
He shakes his head, and Eddie's about to move away, eyes troubled with regret, but Steve puts his jock reflexes to good use and grabs him with hands on both sides of Eddie's face. He pulls him back in, muffles the gasping moan that flies from Eddie's mouth with his lips, and kisses him hard.
Eddie gives back as good as he gets, hands still locked around Steve's wrists like a vice, bruising him with a kiss that feels more like an extension of their fight than any confession.
When Eddie's teeth dig a little too hard into Steve's bottom lip, he pushes him away again with a hand against his shoulder.
Eddie looks completely dazed, pupils blown to shit, brows still knitted together.
"What the fuck is even happening right now?" he asks, sounds less angry and more anxious now.
"Don't go to Indy," Steve blurts, then pulls himself away, so he doesn't have to look at Eddie for the fallout of that declaration. He turns away from him and thumps the side of his head against the wall. "Fuck, I'm the worst."
He can't believe how impulsive he still is, that nothing ever brings out the worst in him more than fearing that the person he wants could want somebody else.
Did he just let Nancy go, so he could make the same mistake with the next person he's... he's- well, no point denying it anymore- falling in love with?
"Steve."
Steve cringes, keeps his eyes shut tight. He doesn't want to look at Eddie after making an absolute fool out of himself.
"Jesus Christ, Harrington, you're unbelievable."
Steve shrugs, can't bring himself to answer. Where's Robin to slap him over the head with some sense when he needs her?
He waits for Eddie to leave his stupid ass like he deserves, waits for the telltale sound of the glass door sliding open, then shut, but it never comes. When he finally opens his eyes, Eddie's right in front of him again, leaning sideways against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, mouth open wide in a shit-eating grin.
"So, this is your jealous side?" he asks, grin growing even wider.
"My worst side," Steve huffs, scrubs his hands over his face in embarrassment. Eddie catches his wrists again and pulls his hands away.
"Cute."
"You're unhinged if you think that was cute."
"Yeah, what a couple we make, huh?" Eddie laughs, then his mouth is back on Steve's, softening their fight into something warmer, gentler, until finally it feels like the confession it was meant to be from the start.
Steve and Eddie got this system going, where they use the D20 Eddie keeps in his jeans pocket at all times to decide on things they can't agree on.
It's saved their friendship many times, when they argue about what music to listen to, what food to order in, or who has to get up to grab them another bottle of beer from the fridge.
Tonight, Steve won the movie, so they're watching Beverly Hills Cop. Eddie won the food choice (a pizza that Steve finds apparently "just gross" because of the various toppings Eddie ordered) and the snacks. But the bag of Hershey's is still in the kitchen, and Eddie's legs have no desire to carry him there.
He lifts the dice in front of Steve's face, who rolls his eyes. "What do you want now, Ed?"
"Kisses," Eddie replies before rolling the dice on the glass coffee table. He rolls a nat20, pumps his fist in the air.
"Hell, yeah! Critical hit, Harrington. Gimme those Kisses!"
Steve sits very still, eyes wide on the dice.
"How many-" He clears his throat, scratches his nose, still doesn't look at Eddie. "How many do you want?"
Eddie shrugs. Sure, it was Steve who bought the bag, so it's a fair question, but Steve's not normally known for being stingy enough to count the exact amount he wants to share with Eddie.
"Uh- as many as you want to give me?"
Steve nods, then twists around on the sofa, a determined look in his puppy dog eyes. Eddie grins at him in confusion, then tilts his head. He's not sure what's going on exactly, and before he can figure it out, Steve pushes up and leans in, pressing his lips to the spot right above Eddie's eyebrow.
Oh.
It's a proper light bulb moment.
"I didn't-" A thumb pressing against Eddie's lip shushes him, then Steve kisses him again right next to the corner of his eye.
Eddie's heart combusts in his chest like an overstuffed piñata, his thoughts confetti.
All he knows is he can feel Steve breathing against his skin, the sweet sensation of his lush mouth, the strength of his fingers as they tilt Eddie's chin so he can reach whatever spot he wants to push his lips against.
It's kiss, kiss, kiss along his cheekbone. Then one that lingers against Eddie's temple while Steve's thumb digs between his lips until Eddie opens his mouth on an overwhelmed gasp.
Kiss, kiss, kiss down the slope of Eddie's jaw, lips brushing over his cheek, pushing in again at the corner of his mouth. It tingles. Truthfully, his entire face tingles at this point, but this, that sweet kiss that Eddie could almost reciprocate, is the one that kills him.
He collapses backward against the arm of the couch and gets a glimpse of Steve's flushed cheeks, the way his lashes seem to have grown heavier, before Steve follows him and replaces his thumb with his mouth.
Eddie's being kissed.
Eddie's being kissed by Steve Harrington.
He thinks his brain is melting out of his ears. His fingers twitch against the couch cushions, and he wants to dig them into Steve's skin, curl them around his hair, but he's not sure he's allowed, isn't sure of anything really.
Steve kisses him. Kiss, kiss, kiss. Open-mouthed, but sweet. A kiss to his lower lip, a kiss to his upper lip, a kiss to the other corner of his mouth. A trail over the edge of his jaw, to his ear, one kiss that is wet and persistent against the spot right below his earlobe that has both of them moan.
Eddie's shivering, vibrating, losing his mind. Steve kisses him again, once against his mouth, chaste, then on his neck, with teeth and tongue, sucking on his skin.
"Steve," Eddie gasps because he can't help himself. "What the fuck?"
Not that Eddie doesn't want this. Hell, he wanted this for so long he can't even remember what it felt like not wanting it. But... but, how is this happening? What is actually happening?
"Thirty-two," Steve mumbles against his skin, and Eddie can't help but laugh.
"Are you counting?"
"Hmm," Steve hums against his pulse point, kisses it softly. "Just seeing how many I want to give you."
Eddie huffs another laugh, lets his head fall back, tangles his hands in Steve's hair and accepts his fate.
Steve gets to kiss a hundred-and-twenty-four, a kiss right on top of Eddie's (now shirtless) sternum over his wildly beating heart, when he collapses with an embarrassed groan, forehead rolling against Eddie's collarbone.
"You were talking about the chocolate, weren't you?"
Eddie's floating on another planet. It takes him several blinks up at the warmly lit ceiling to understand the question.
"The kisses?" Steve grumbles, his skin burning against Eddie's. "Hershey's Kisses?"
"Uh," Eddie replies, "yeah?"
"Oh my god."
Steve's trying to pull himself away, but Eddie won't have it. He curls his legs and arms around Steve, holds onto him like a deranged koala bear.
"I'm not complaining," Eddie says, then shakes his head, decides to change his tactics. "I want to know. How many kisses you want to give me. I really want to know."
Steve remains frozen against him for a long moment in which Eddie thinks his spirit might leave his body, then finally pushes up, cheeks glowing with heat, hair a mess on top of his head, and presses another short kiss against Eddie's lips.
"One-hundred-twenty-five," Eddie counts when they separate again, and Steve's answering grin is worth a million chocolate Kisses.
"Keep counting for me, baby," Steve says, then dips lower again and continues his journey down Eddie's torso, "let's see if we can make it to a thousand before the movie is over."
Ever since Steve found out that Eddie's still a virgin, he can't be cool around him anymore. He keeps checking out his ass when Eddie leans forward to insert a VHS. Every accidental brush of arms, fingers, or legs against each other has his blood heat, his brain running overtime with images of all the other places he wants to touch Eddie. When Eddie grins that big goofy grin of his, Steve can't help but imagine seeing him look like that after blowing his mind wide open.
He knows it's weird how obsessed he is with the idea of deflowering a good friend; that wanting to have sex with him just to be his first is not a normal thought.
Cue Robin telling Steve to lie on the couch in the WSQK, sitting across from him with a notebook in her hand, giving her best understanding therapist face.
"So, why do you think it matters so much to you if somebody is a virgin?"
"Not somebody. Just Eddie," Steve answers, because he hasn't cared for a long time if any of the women he'd been dating had experience or not. Most of the time, he'd even preferred it if they knew stuff in the bedroom he'd never tried before.
"Okay," Robin concedes. "Why do you care that Eddie is a virgin?"
Steve shrugs, thinks about it. "I just think it's hot?"
"And why do you think it's hot that your platonic friend has never had sex?"
"I don't know, Robin," Steve whines. "I guess because he looks so badass? So him being innocent in that regard, it's like... a dichotomy?"
Robin hums, clearly not satisfied yet with his answers.
"Okay, let's try a different angle. Why do you keep thinking of deflowering him if you don't like him like that?"
"Who says I don't like him? I do like him."
"As a friend."
"As a human," Steve corrects.
Robin hums again, scribbles something in her notebook.
"So, you want to be Eddie's first."
"Fuck," Steve groans, rubs his face in embarrassed frustration. "Yes."
"Let's try to dig deeper here, Stevie. Why do you want to be his first?"
"Because-" He hesitates, imagines Eddie beneath him, writhing in pleasure, hands buried in Steve's hair, lips swollen with Steve's kisses, pupils all blown with desire. "I just want it to be good for him. First times can be weird, awkward, disappointing."
"And you would make sure it wouldn't be like that?"
"Yeah," Steve agrees, slapping the worn leather beneath his hand. He feels like they're finally onto something. "I would make it so good for him. He wouldn't be able to stop himself from coming back for more."
"And you would want that? Eddie coming back to you for sex again and again?"
He imagines it then, imagines all the ways he could blow Eddie's mind. God, it could take years until they've tried everything Steve wants to try with him, decades if they get creative.
Steve nods, hesitantly, and Robin sighs.
"Steve," she says seriously, "I diagnose you with being a doofus."
Steve sits up, offended. "Hey! You're supposed to be supportive!"
"There's no supporting the willfully ignorant."
Steve frowns at her.
"Lucky for you, there's an easy cure." She points her pen at Steve. "Ask Eddie out on a date. Right now."
He thinks about it, thinks of taking Eddie out for dinner, feels his heart climb into his throat.
"What if he says no?" Steve whispers, fingers curling into the leather of the couch.
"Then you come back for another appointment tomorrow. But I've got a feeling you won't have to. You're not the only doofus in the world, ya know."
"Who's a doofus?" Eddie asks, walking in on them. He looks so good in his worn leather jacket and combat boots that Steve's mouth runs dry.
"You are," Robin declares, getting up to give them space, wiggling her brows as she walks backward and mouths, "Ask him."
Eddie laughs at her weird behavior, then turns to Steve. "What was up with that?"
Steve shakes his head, grins an awkward little smile. "What would you say about going out to grab some dinner?"
"Dinner?" Eddie shrugs, clearly not aware that he's been asked out on a date. "Sure, let's go."
Steddie, where between the two of them, it's actually Steve who is the passionate singer.
On Valentine's Day, which is coincidentally the day Hellfire is about to meet at Steve's for their usual Saturday night campaign, Eddie heads over to his house a few hours earlier than planned.
The front door is open, so he slips inside to the loud boom of the stereo in the living room playing 'Out of Touch'. One of those songs that feel like a personal insult to his person, but that are somehow endurable if Steve's the one playing them on his car stereo.
Just that this time, the song isn't playing in the background, it's being shouted at the top of Steve's lungs. When Eddie rounds the corner, he sees Steve on top of the marble coffee table, duster in hand and held in front of his mouth like a microphone, knee bouncing and head thrown all the way back, as he belts,
"You're out of touch, I'm out of time."
He jumps down from the table, wriggles his shoulders in a way that makes his hair flop on the top of his head, and Eddie feels his mouth spread into the goofiest of grins.
Steve's eyes connect with his, widen as he realizes that he got caught in his little one-man show, but that's apparently not enough for him to stop. No, instead, he slaps a palm against his chest, then points at Eddie as he sings,
"But I'm out of my head when you're not around."
It's THE moment. The one in which Eddie knows that Steve is the love of his chaotic mess of a life, that nobody will ever compare again.
They've been hooking up for months. Casually, as they like to declare every chance they get no matter how much they cuddle afterwards.
Eddie's been fine with it. Honestly.
But not anymore, not ever again.
"Be my boyfriend," Eddie declares, like the total idiot he is, "please?"
Steve drops the hand with the duster, eyes even wider now if that's possible, then runs up to Eddie and almost causes an accident with the force with which he throws himself into Eddie's arms.
The party has no clue at all why the two of them are acting like they're suddenly crushing on each other all over again that night, blushing, and flirting like total goofballs, because everybody thought they've been in a committed relationship since forever.
Drunk Steve listing all the things he loves about Eddie (hands, voice, laugh, tattoos, the very core of your being).
Eddie, who never thought Steve could like him as anything more than a friend, decides to use said attributes to flirt with him and make sure Steve didn't just babble nonsense while wasted.
Steddie season five fix-it inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind where instead of exotic matter they find Eddie Munson locked in a Mindflayer cocoon and hooked up to the hivemind on the roof of Hawkins lab.
Hoping that they can bring Eddie back to consciousness and get information on the whereabouts of Vecna, Steve volunteers to enter Eddie's mind, trying to make up for the guilt that's been eating at him ever since he left Eddie's body behind in the Upside Down.
Eddie's mind, of course, is a treacherous place full of riddles and fantasy inspired worlds, that Steve is hardly adapt to navigate.
Especially when Eddie, assuming that Steve is a figment of his own imagination, starts flirting with him like there's no tomorrow.
Rating: E | Chapters: 5/20 | Tags: Season 5 AU for all those still beating Steddie hearts out there, Eddie is alive but unconscious, Steve journeys into Eddie's mindscapes to save him
Now that the finale is finally here, I feel ready to share my current big project for all those who still need more Eddie in season 5 (or just more Eddie in general because honestly who doesn't):
When they find Eddie's body in Hawkins lab, the only way to know for sure if he's more than an empty husk controlled by Vecna is to enter his mind.
Guided by desperation to protect Dustin from his grief and self-destructive tendencies, Steve volunteers for the job and steps into vast mindscapes inspired by fantasy worlds and Eddie's deepest fears, desires, and traumas.
While Steve has to navigate Eddie's attempt to hide his innermost self to save him, he discovers that the man behind the masks might be worth risking everything for.
OR: Season 5 AU in which Eddie is alive and Steve falls in love with him by seeing ALL of Eddie.
Rating: M | Word Count: ~9k | Tags: Steve Harrington Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, First Kisses, Mild Frottage, Day Trips, Eddie Munson Takes Care Of Steve Harrington, Loneliness
Eddie needs a ride to Indy for a concert. Steve just wants somebody to spend the day with him, so he won't feel so lonely.
Read on AO3
@steddiesmuttyseptember Week 3: Secret, Knees
@softsteddieseptember Week 3: Surprise
If somebody told Eddie a year ago that he would kneel in the middle of Family Video on a random Thursday night in front of one Steve Harrington, he would have declared them the biggest jester of the royal court of Hawkins. Or clinically insane and ready for an extended vacation at Pennhurst.
But here he is. Kneeling. Begging.
Steve’s doing his soccer mom stance in front of Eddie’s antics, hands on his hips, head cocked to the side, lips pressed into a thin line. If Steve’s going to push a hand through his hair, he’s going to look the most Steve he could possibly look, Eddie thinks.
“Please, Harrington? Pretty, pretty, plea~se?”
“Can’t I just lend you the money, and you get your van repaired?”
“No way they’ll fix her before I have to leave to make it in time for the concert.” Plus, Eddie would be loath to owe Steve a financial debt. An emotional debt he can handle, find ways to pay him back, but since he cannot deal drugs anymore, it’s much harder for him to get enough money to pay for the repair of his piece-of-shit car. (Sorry, Berta, I didn’t mean that. You know you're my best girl.)
“What about the bus?”
“Doesn’t come here anymore after all the ‘earthquakes’.”
Steve sighs and clicks his tongue.
“Please, Steve? Won’t you be my saviour?” He flutters his lashes for emphasis.
“It’s not that I don’t want to— It’s just that tomorrow is…”
“You’ve got a hot date?”
Strangely enough, Steve grimaces at that.
“Not exactly,” he says and finally pushes that hand through his hair. It gives Eddie immense satisfaction, like when a marble rolls down the precise path into a hole. “More like the opposite of that.”
“So, you’re free?” Eddie shuffles closer on his knees on the hard floor.
“Well…”
“Steve,” Eddie says more seriously now, making his eyes large and round on purpose. “If you do this for me, I’ll be forever in your debt. I’ll do anything you want me to. Clean your car? Do your dishes for a week? Take Henderson off your hands for a month? Massage your shoulders after your shifts? Anything.”
“Anything?”
Eddie nods, but the weird whimsy smile on Steve’s face worries him a little.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
“Ha!” Eddie claps his hand and jumps back onto his feet.
“Under one condition.”
“Uh? Sure?”
“You’ll spend the day together with me before the concert. As a friend.”
“In Indy, you mean?”
“Yeah, in Indy. We’ll hang out and have lunch together somewhere. That way it won’t be a total waste of my time.”
Eddie must look a little stunned because Steve deflates and lowers his arms.
“Unless that sounds like a horrible idea?”
“No,” Eddie waves him off. “I mean, by all means, Harrington, let’s make a day out of it. I just— Are you sure that’s all you want in return? You could’ve had me service you for a while.”
Eddie cringes, heat crawling into his neck. “I mean, do acts of service for you.”
Steve shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, I don’t need any of that. Just hanging out is fine. As friends.”
Eddie narrows his eyes. He knows he hasn’t been exactly forthcoming with attention after the whole Vecna thing. It had taken a bitch of a time to heal, and well, he never considered that Steve would actually want Eddie to hang around besides the occasional overlap when they spent time with the brats. But the way Steve keeps emphasizing the friends part makes Eddie think that Steve somehow assumes that Eddie’s against the idea on principle.
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