After putting a lot of hard work into making it big in the music industry on their own terms, Eddie and his band are very proudly anti-record label. Steve on the other hand is a rising pop star under a huge label and is also managed by his rich parents all seemingly without having to put in much work for it.
Eddie hates the concept of Steve and everything he stands for. He thinks that his admittedly beautiful singing voice is wasted on a music industry puppet who doesn't seem to have his own personality beyond being handsome and selling things to the uninformed masses.
However, when they have to be in the same space for a few days' work on a charity single with a bunch of other artists, Eddie's eyes are suddenly opened to just how little he really knows about Steve. How much of his life is relentlessly controlled by his parents and the people he works for.
Steve is such a sweetheart, he's so kind to the staff and supportive of the other artists. He’s also extremely dedicated. He does take after take at his bosses' requests without a single complaint, even when Eddie fails to see anything wrong with his previous ones. There’s this little notebook he always has with him where he meticulously writes down every single miniscule thing he needs to work on.
Eddie doesn’t think Steve’s gone home at the same time as the rest of them a single day this week; he always stays to listen to everyone else, then moves to one of the rehearsal rooms to go over some tracks for an album he’s due to start recording. He had no idea so much work went into making cookie-cutter pop music.
Something in Eddie's chest pangs when he sees the look on Steve's face as he finishes a perfect take only for his dad to frown and say, “He was pitchy. Have him do it again.”
He experiences the same feeling as he watches Mrs. Harrington literally slap an item from the snack table out of Steve’s hand. Steve picking it up from the floor and disposing of it with a frown a few seconds later so the cleaning staff don’t have to do it.
Something surprisingly like anger on Steve's behalf is bubbling under the surface like water about to boil over. And Eddie has never been the best at minding his own business when something he believes is unjust is happening. So, Eddie waits until Steve’s parents have stepped out for a while, sets a few of the pastries from the snack table onto a plate and cautiously approaches an unsuspecting Steve, who’s got his head buried in that notebook again.
He taps him on the shoulder and says, "Hey! Wanna sneak off somewhere and split these with me?"
To his astonishment, Steve doesn't look at him weird or tell him to fuck off and mind his own business. Instead, a conspiratorial grin spreads across his face.
"You're on." He says, slamming the book shut and setting it aside.
Good. Eddie kind of wants to throw the thing into an incinerator at this point.
Five minutes later they're sitting in the nearest stairwell, slouched across the steps and breaking pieces of pastry off as they get to know each other. Eddie makes sure Steve gets most of it, noticing how he eyes the baked goods with all the desperation of a thirsty man in the desert gazing upon an oasis.
"Never thought I'd see the Steve Harrington, prince of pop, sitting with bad posture. It's almost uncanny valley." Eddie teases. "Think I'm gonna have nightmares later about you slouching."
"Shut up," Steve laughs, playfully shoving him.
And that’s the thing, he thought talking to Steve was going to be like trying to squeeze blood out of a stone, but they have this natural banter right from the jump that has Eddie completely blindsided.
"Seriously though, Harrington," Eddie says, shifting his tone to one of sincerity and looking Steve straight in the eyes. "It's so much better seeing you like this than seeing you all polished and perfect. It's good to know you're a real human being."
"Thanks," Steve says, then sighs. He fidgets with a chunk of glazed dough absentmindedly before popping it in his mouth and chewing as he processes his thoughts. "I would be like this more often, but perfect and polished is what sells apparently."
Eddie sits up a little at that, intrigued by the bitter tone in his voice and the little eye roll he follows up his statement with.
“You say that like you hate it.”
“I do hate it,” Steve admits. “I don’t want to be used to push a standard that even I can’t live up to. But that’s what you get when you're handed a contract as a child, don’t bother to read it and you have asshole parents who only care about money.”
“Damn,” Eddie whistles low. “And there’s nothing you can do about it?”
“Not for now,” Steve says. “But lucky for me I have a cool uncle who’s a lawyer and hates my dad as much as I do. He’s looking over it all for me. So maybe things will be different soon.”
Well shit. Now Eddie feels like a bit of an asshole for making assumptions.
“If it’s any consolation, I also have a very cool uncle and an asshole dad. So you aren’t alone in that department,” he offers. “Seems like we have all kinds of things in common.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a little smile that causes his nose to scrunch ever so slightly. “Seems like we do.”
Suddenly Eddie is acutely aware of how hundreds of thousands of pop fans all over the world feel when they look at this man. Particularly when they turn on the music channel and Steve’s there singing about some romance or another. Eddie’s sure it's entirely fictional because practically everyone in the industry knows Steve’s label enforces dating bans and other such bullshit.
Feeling the urge to swoon over a random cute thing Steve Harington did is not one of Eddie’s proudest moments, but he’s chalking it up to Steve being a master manipulator who knows how to make an audience feel things for him.
He needs to change the subject. Fast.
“So, what got you into all this in the first place?”
“I just love performing,” Steve answers simply, honestly. “The stage, the lights, the adrenaline, taking everything I feel and putting it into that one moment. It just feels like I’m untouchable when I’m in it, you know?”
“I do know,” Eddie confirms. It’s one of his favourite parts of the job too.
“I also like creating songs,” Steve continues. “It’s nice to hear the finished product for the first time and think ‘I made that’, even if a lot of the ones I write end up as B-sides or get sold to someone else.”
Eddie hums thoughtfully for a second then says, “Why don’t you sing about it, sweetheart?”
Steve pauses, frowning in confusion. “What?”
“What you’re feeling about all these shitty adults around you and the role they’re making you play. Why not try writing some songs about that?”
Steve seems to be deep in thought, so Eddie continues.
“Your contract probably includes something about having to produce a certain number of singles or albums, so you can’t just stop and wait it out. Am I right?”
Steve nods, a crease appearing between his eyebrows that makes Eddie want to reach out for him.
“So, make the music they want so desperately, but use it to expose instead of comply,” Eddie explains. “Make everyone else see what you’re seeing and do it right under the noses of the people who’re exploiting you. Make them applaud you for it without even realising they’re applauding you showing the world their poison.”
“That’s an interesting idea,” Steve muses, “but they’d never let me release songs like that.”
“So, wrap it up in a nice package. Make it catchy and just vague enough that they’ll never know any better, but people will theorise and figure it out. They’ll know what you’re trying to warn them about. There are a lot of scumbags in this industry. You could destroy all of yours with that pretty voice if you wanted to.”
Eddie’s train of thought is suddenly captured, derailed and held hostage by wide brown eyes and a slow growing smile.
“You think my voice is pretty?”
There are these tiny dimples that materialise at the corners of Steve’s mouth for the sole purpose of being Eddie’s personal undoing. Unable to look away, Eddie can only nod in response.
"Yeah. I do."
Steve leans in ever so slightly, his captivating stare flitting to Eddie’s lips.
Eddie’s drawn closer like a moth to a flame.
The door to the stairwell slams open, forcing them to pull back.
“Steve! Eddie! There you are.” A rather frantic looking PA says. “They need you both back in the studio.”
They give the woman an awkward nod and rise from their seated position. As Steve dusts off his jeans, Eddie grabs the now empty plate that was perched on the step between them like a bridge, a successful olive branch.
Eddie’s heart sinks when he sees the way Steve’s posture straightens up, his shoulders settling into their usual down and slightly back position as his expression switches from relaxed to practiced and professional.
He reaches out and touches Steve’s arm gently before he can get too far out of reach.
Steve casts a curious glance back at him.
“Just think about it. What I said,” he says softly. “You have more power than they realize.”
“I will,” Steve promises, the real him bleeding through in his body language again just enough to give Eddie hope.
Later, Steve calls out to him as he’s leaving.
“Hey! Eddie!” He shouts, voice wavering ever so slightly from constant use.
The sound snatches Eddie’s attention away from thoughts of dinner and a warm, comfortable bed.
Steve parents are standing nearby, confused and judging stares equipped. Eddie pays them zero attention.
“Thanks for today.” Steve says with the same arresting smile from earlier. “I mean it.”
This time, Eddie’s ready for it, having already been exposed to the intensity of it once.
“No problem,” he says with a slow grin. “Just mention me in the next album.”
A few months later, a signed copy of Steve’s new album comes in the mail. It’s clever and emotional and thought provoking. And more importantly, Steve has written a lengthy thank you message on the cover of Eddie’s copy in gold permanent marker, followed by his phone number and a small heart.
It sits proudly in the collection of his most prized albums on his shelf as Steve kisses him on his doorstep after their third date.
It's the only pop album Eddie would ever go to war over.
Sorry to do this to you on a Tuesday evening but imagine the framing of Steve and Jonathan's dynamic in season 5 from Steve's POV being that Jonathan is lucky to be with the person he wanted to be with and he doesn't realise how lucky because he's miserable and making her miserable. Meanwhile, the person Steve thought he could possibly have something with is gone and he's never going to get them back and never got a chance to see what would happen so of course he's pissed off at Jonathan for wasting all this time he has with Nancy when Steve doesn't get another second with Eddie.
He's angry about how unfair it feels so he's not letting Jonathan have an easy time of things, but Jonathan never spent time with the group when Eddie was in it so he has no idea.
When Jonathan calls him out for trying to win Nancy back, Steve can't take it anymore. He gets about a quater of the way through his rebuttal when it starts feeling hard to breath and he can barely see through the tears he's trying to hold back. Then Jonathan makes the huge mistake of looking concerned and asking if Steve's ok. He went into this interaction prepared for a fight that would hopefully take his mind off things with Nancy, but ends up awkwardly trying to drive back to the radio station while Steve cries his heart out in the passenger seat and makes these noises like he's dying because he just can't hold the grief anymore. He doesn't know how to mourn for an entire future as well as a person.
Maybe it would be more accurate to say that he gets obssessed with Mexican food in general.
Gareth can't quite understand why his friend had this change of heart. Granted, Eddie never hated Mexican food; he'd always liked Taco Tuesday as much as any other person when they were in school, but he had never shown any kind of profound love for it.
But now that's basically all that Eddie eats.
"Seriously, man? You had enchiladas for lunch four days in a row. What's up with that?" Gareth asks one day, during their lunch break in the garage.
"I like it."
Yeah, Gareth isn't buying that for a single second, but Eddie refuses to explain himself any further.
Takes Gareth a couple more weeks to find out what is happening with his friend, but everything becomes quiet clear to him when he steps into the new Mexican place across from Melvald's to buy the tacos his mother asked him to.
From the door, Gareth has a perfect view of the whole restaurant and it's not difficult for him to spot Eddie draped over the counter, chatting with a cute employee.
The guy laughs at whatever Eddie is saying, his hand coming up to brush a lock of his beautiful, shiny hair behind his ear before saying something back.
Gareth doesn't miss the blush on the guy's face. He bets Eddie is blushing just as much.
Late bloomer Alpha Steve that only presents after his breakup with Nancy, and whose nose got really fucked up after his fight with Jonathan.
Thing is, Steve can't smell shit unless he has his nose literally buried into whatever he's trying to smell.
That's horrible because he can't distinguish almost anyone's scents and he feels super lost. He also can't tell when his scent is getting too strong, and this makes things a little awkward in a lot of different ways.
(Steve will never forget the mortification he felt when Coach Diaz sent him home earlier because Steve had entered pre-rut and hadn't noticed it. He got the whole gym stinking of aroused alpha for hours and Steve skipped a bunch of gym classes until he could look at Coach Diaz again.)
It's also horrible because his fucked up nose doesn't let Steve find ou that his scent mate is right there close to him.
Eddie Munson got a single whiff of Steve's scent after presentation and went into heat almost immediately.
That turns his life upside down.
He knows what it means; Eddie isn't dumb, he knows that only a scent mate would cause such a reaction on him. But he's so confused because Harrington doesn't seem affected by Eddie’s scent at all.
He doesn't even look at Eddie twice when their paths cross.
His inner omega isn't happy. It craves Harrington's presence, his scent, and it wails in distress when this is not reciprocated in the least.
Is Harrignton rejecting him? Is this cold shoulder his way of saying he has no interest in Eddie?
It hurts. And it's also stupid. Eddie shouldn't feel like shit because some stupid alpha he isn't even friends with doesn't want him, but his inner omega is frantic, desperate.
The first signs of rejection sickness start to show their faces, even though Eddie is doing his best to ignore it and just go on with his life.
And then.
Eddie is running down the school hallways, trying to escape Carver and his lackeys, when he suddenly runs into someone and they both topple to the floor with an oof.
Eddie feels the exact moment the person grabs his jacket and pulls him close, sniffing him deep before letting out a low growl.
His first instinct is to get the hell out of there. But then the scent of pine and herbs hits him and Eddie's whole body goes lax.
Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. His inner omega keeps roaring in joy.
"Mate." Harrington's voice is way deeper than normal and muffled by Eddie's skin as the man keeps burying his face into his neck.
Eddie shivers.
Slick trickles down and into his briefs and Harrington growls again.
When their eyes finally meet, Eddie finds out Harrington's eyes are deep red.
Vampire!Eddie who's always felt guilty about feeding off humans tries to change his diet to animal blood.
It doesn't work.
He's always starving, always weak and vulnerable to attacks from hunters.
After months like this, he finally caves and goes after human prey. Eddie knows he could try stealing blood bags from a hospital bank, but hospital blood always tastes stale and never satisfies him completely.
As much as he hates it, Eddie knows that right now he needs fresh, warm blood.
So he hides in an alleyway and waits for an opportunity.
It's a little past three a.m. when a guy passes by the alley. He's alone, and seems sort of unsteady on his feet, as if he's drunk or something. There's no one else around.
Eddie doesn't think too much. He pounces; tackles the guy to the ground, then drags him into the alleyway, where they'd be covered by darkness.
Sharp teeth sink into soft flesh, the guy doesn't offer any kind of resistence.
That should have tipped Eddie that something might be wrong, but as starving as he is, the information doesn't register.
At least not until after a few mouthfuls, when he starts to actually taste the blood he's drinking.
It taste so fucking weird.
So bitter and sharp, a far cry from the usual coppery sweetness Eddie remembers.
Eddie stops drinking. He pulls away and looks down at the guy beneath him and, suddenly, he's stuck into place.
The guy is wide awake. He's shaking like a leaf, there are tears silently spilling from his eyes, but he doesn't try to scream when Eddie puts distance between them.
On the contrary. The man grabs the front of Eddie's shirt and pulls him closer again, his eyes growing with desperation.
"Please, no. Don't stop, please. Just finish it, I can't take this anymore. Please, please, please."
"You- you want me to kill you?"
The man nods, keeps pleading him and pulling his shirt with surprisingly strong hands.
Eddie grabs the man's wrists and pins them down on the ground, forcing him to stop.
"Why? Why do you want me to kill you?"
"Because I can't kill myself," the man cries. "The pills didn't work and I'm too much of a coward to do it any other way. I am useless, I have no one. No one needs me, so what's the point? "
It strikes Eddie, then, that the bitter taste in the man's blood must be the pills he took when he tried to take his life, the funny way he had been walking must be the after effects of said pills too.
A tight, heavy guilt settles in the pit of Eddie's stomach, and the residual bitter taste on his tongue makes him nauseous. At the same time, he feels a strange protectiveness bloom in his chest.
Eddie knows what it is to feel unwanted. Knows what it is to search for a place to call home and never find it. He knows what it is to live with loneliness always weighing down in his chest, mixed with that stifling feeling of not being good enough for anyone to stick around.
And it's exactly because Eddie knows all this that he asks, "What's your name?"
The sudden question takes the man aback, but he still answers.
"Steve."
"Hello, Steve. I'm Eddie. If I let go of your wrists, will you try to escape?" Steve shakes his head. "Good boy."
The slight shiver that runs down Steve's body is not lost on Eddie.
He lets go of the man's wrists, then helps him sit up on the ground, gentle hands brushing off dirt and gravel from Steve's shirt.
"I'm very sorry, Steve, but I can't kill you," Eddie tries to explain. "In reality, I usually don't even attack people like this, but it's been a while since I last ate so I was kinda desperate, you know."
There's no answer from Steve; he just cries silently, holding himself in a pitiful embrace, flinching with each word that leaves Eddie's mouth.
Eddie feels like the biggest asshole in the world. First he tries to feed off the guy, and when he willingly offers himself Eddie decides to grow some conscience and refuses.
Why can't he be like every other vampire and just drink without guilt? Why can't he just build his own blood bank and keep some livestock in his den like-
Eddie's eyes widen.
"What if I needed you?" Eddie blurts out, and his eagerness startles Steve enough for his tears to stop.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you have no one, that no one needs you. But what if I need you?" The drugs in his blood must still be making him slow, because Steve blinks owlish at Eddie as if not comprehending what he was trying to say.
Against his better judgement, he cups Steve's face; leans in until they are very close, breathing each other's air. Up close, Steve's much prettier than Eddie gave him credit at first, even with all the tiredness and tears and snot.
"I'm a vampire, Steve. I need blood to live," he explains slowly so Steve's hazy brain can keep up. "You're human, you have blood. You have exactly what I need. Would you give it to me? Not just this one time, I'm talking about a long term deal here. You'd have to come back to my den with me. I travel a lot because of the hunters, so we'd be on the road a lot. It's not a perfect life, but it's not bad, and we'd have each other."
"But what if I don't like it? What if after a while, I realize this life is not enough? That I still feel alone and still don't want to keep going? What happens then?"
Still cupping the man's face, Eddie brushes his cheeks softly with his thumbs. When he talks, though, his voice is dead serious.
"If it comes a day that you don't want to keep our deal anymore, I promise I will kill you. You have my word."
It's not how he usually operates, but Eddie thinks it's only fair.
And for the first time since they met, Steve smiles. "Then I accept."
He learns that monsters exist and that they’re called the same thing as a creature from the weirdo creature board game that the kids play. He’s gonna assume creatures from that game are real.
And they came back.
He’s gonna have to learn about this nerd game and it simply cannot be from Dustin.
Love the kid to death. He’d make a terrible teacher. (It’s the tone)
So, he does the next best thing and finds the biggest freak in school and - “What’s it stand for?”
“Huh?”
“D&D,” Eddie says slowly, arms crossed. “What’s it stand for?”
“Dragons,” Steve replies and then frowns. “And um. Ditches.”
“Dungeons.”
“A ditch is a kind of dungeon if you think about it,” He says and then more to the point. “Are you gonna help me or not?”
“Not.”
“What?”
“No,” Eddie says. “Ever heard of it, big boy? First time in your life not getting what you want?”
Steve blinks.
Well, “Okay.”
Eddie isn’t a one-man nerd band. There are other people in Hellfire so he just…asks someone else.
Now Jeff has fifty bucks and plans to meet the king of Hawkins High after school, and Eddie is seething with jealousy and rage.
Picture this: Steve and Eddie are living together, happily in love and disgustingly domestic.
To make them even more domestic, what do they do? They adopt an orange cat.
They live in a small house, with this cute backyard where their cat loves to spend the day exploring or napping in the sunlight.
One day, Eddie gets back from a grocery run and finds it weird that Steve isn't in the kitchen. The stove is still on, the pot of curry he had been making is on a slow simmer and the kitchen smells divine but is Steveless.
After a moment, Eddie spots Steve in the backyard through the glass door. As he gets closer, he notices Steve has Pumpkin in his arms as he slowly rocks the cat like a baby, but it's when Eddie finally reaches the door that he can hear what his boyfriend is saying.
"I know you're always hungry, Pumpkin, but birds aren't food. Birds are friends," he says, and Pumpkin meows back as if in protest. "No, you can't eat them."
Eddie has to bite his own fist to stop himself from screaming. That man is too damn cute.
Steve: Type? I don’t have a type. Well, maybe badass brunettes who absolutely can take me in a fight. Bonus points if they’ve pulled a weapon on me. But I don’t know, nothing super specific.
Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie:
Robin: Oh thank god.
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