(French-) Canadian potato. Multi-fandom, fan-spazz extraordinaire. Compulsive over-thinker. Writer with a couple of degrees, applying them to the very important over analysis of fandom stuff. Currently obsessed with an 80s scooby gang and the most chaotic pirates in existence~
this is PLATONIC. love can be platonic. and that’s what this is. if i see anything non-platonic stobin tagged in my rbs, i will delete this.
this is inspired of that quote from dolly alderton, “nearly everything i’ve known about love i’ve learned in my long time friendships with women.” i said the word love so many times, it’s not real anymore.
anw, happy stobin month. their friendship means so much to me. so here’s something sappy.🍦
-
“What is love?” El asks him, with that bright eye curiosity that makes her— that makes her the best of them all in more ways than one.
Steve blinks at her, dropping the whisk he’s holding and thinks.
What is love?
It’s easy.
Steve smiles to himself as he thinks of a time where he would have floundered for an answer, searched for it in the empty corners of his heart and home, in the unblinking red light on the voice machine; waiting for something, anything.
Nearly everything Steve Harrington knows about love he has learned from Robin Buckley.
First, Steve learns how to fall in love with the most unlikely person in the crowd. Robin was, and will always be a better person than him. From her, he learns how to fall in love, admit it, and accept the fact that it won’t always get reciprocated. That’s okay, because in exchange of that rejection, would be something better than he could ever imagine.
Love is a friend. A real friend.
Second, Steve learns that love— is love. It isn’t something meant to be put into a box, it isn’t just one thing. It’s not just girls for boys, or boys for girls. It’s for everyone, it’s for anything your heart wants.
And when he finally came to the realization that he didn’t fit that box too, Robin held him for hours. Assured him that it’s okay, that if that’s who he is, she will still love him because of it, never despite it.
Love is being true to yourself. It’s freedom while being held by your person.
Third, Steve learns that love can be quiet. It’s not always hiding under the covers as your parents fight from across the room, it’s not loud pounding music as the love of your life tells you that you’re bullshit.
It can be found in quiet afternoons, while reading a book with your best friend. It can be found in quiet evenings, as you both try to paint in silence. It was sitting, in a field behind a stolen RV, making molotovs in silence, both terrified they’d be dead tomorrow. It can be found in the middle of the night, after a terrifying, too real nightmare, just bundled together holding each other's hand.
Love is quiet. It’s peaceful and content, even when its hard.
Fourth, Steve learns that love— the real one— doesn’t have an expiration date. He once thought that it’s always been like that, that for him it’s always been meant to be like that. There is an end date. That one day day everyone he loves will realize what he truly is… bullshit. Like when his parents started to learn that he was too much, and too little of what they want and needed, they started leaving more often or when Nancy realized she deserved someone better, it’s over.
Maybe, he’s still waiting for the day when Robin finally realizes that she’s so much better than him, that she could find someone better, that Steve can’t really be her platonic soulmate. Because soulmates— God— they’re two halves of one whole. But how could he ever live up to that? He doesn’t think he could ever, not when Robin’s got all the good parts when they were split into half.
But there’s an unspoken trust. A tiny voice in Steve’s head that tells him, above all the noise and self loathing, a voice that sounds so similar to Robin’s says, “Robin won’t do that to you. Not ever.”
He holds onto that voice, clutches at it with shaking hands.
Love is… Love is there. And you will pray, and hope, and beg that it never leaves. But love is also trust, so you hold on with that blind faith.
Fifth, Steve learns that the best love— it’s in the in betweens.
Love is when Steve’s having the worst migraine, so Robin cleans the store for him instead. It’s when his best friend got him a brownie, because she thought he’d like it. It’s when his bestfriend brushed his hair after a rough night, even if it’s drenched in sweat and tears. It’s the scar in his thumb from when the vodka bottle broke as they made molotovs. It’s when she finally snaps and locks him and Eddie in the pantry so they can talk about their feelings. It’s her weirdly proud smile when she opens the pantry, and they’re making out like their lives depended on it.
It’s popcorn stuck in between the couch from movie nights. It’s paint stains in his favorite blue jeans from the one night they painted his room. It’s the chip on the plate when they were eating and she chipped it from laughing so hard. It’s that old post note on the fridge that says, “Got you milk, Dingus!” that he never removed.
Steve Harrington has learned of love from everyone. From Dustin, to Max, to Eddie, to the rest of the kids. Even Hopper and Joyce, from Nancy and Jonathan. In some ways, he’s learned from his parents too.
It’s all different.
But in his core. In his truest core, in his deepest soul.
It’s all from Robin Buckley.
El is still looking at him, with a fond smile, like she can see the montage playing in his head. You know what? Maybe she does see it.
“What is love?” Steve repeats her question.
El hums, nodding.
“Love is a U.S.S Butterscotch Sundae.”
El giggles at his answer as Steve winks at her.
Steve turns to the open window above the sink. There’s laughter coming from the yard, where the kids are playing in the pool. Eddie’s reading Nancy a book, as Jonathan and Argyle lounge around.
Steve meets Robin’s eyes, and she smiles at him, raises a hand to wave at him.
Steve waves back at love personified.
(In Steve’s room, there’s an old recipe book. Given to him by his Grandmother, it’s filled with different recipes, some 50 years older than him, some newer. There’s a piece of paper tucked in between the pages, with a blue and white border and a little sailor hat. It’s stained from use and dirt. It’s not old, it’s not new, it’s from two summers ago. It’s a handwritten recipe with a note at the bottom.
Harrington,
I wrote this down because you kept forgetting the freaking recipe for the USS butterscotch sundae. Keep it with you, you dingus.
Eddie never knew there were moments that would just steal his breath and not give it back even after they passed, lingering in his mind, his heartbeat, his fingertips, making him wonder if the world is suddenly much bigger than before, or endlessly smaller, reduced only to one impossibly perfect moment.
He never knew. Until he met Steve. Steve, with his moments, with his smiles, with his kisses and laughs and gentle voice singing under his breath when he thinks Eddie isn’t listening.
But Eddie listens. He always listens.
And he basks, taking it all in as he’s sitting in the back of his van somewhere at the foot of Weathertop, leaning against the side wall.
There is a steady pitter-patter of heavy summer rain against the roof of the van, a breeze of fresh air coming in through the open doors that occasionally leaves goose bumps along his arms and brings with it the smell of rain and drenched soil, of blooming fields and trees and life, mixing with their own little bubble of life and love and tobacco.
Eddie wants to catch that smell, that sound, that feeling in a mason jar like Steve told him he used to dream as a kid. Maybe he will. He knows there’s one in the driver’s side door for this very purpose.
It would be a good forever-moment, with Steve lying in the back of his van, illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights Eddie installed for him the other week with a hearty but ultimately fake grumble. The warm light dances along his skin, making it look even more golden than usual, complementing the galaxy of moles that is imprinted and immortalised on his skin.
And Eddie watches. He always watches.
Golden light that makes even his dimples shine as he smiles, eyes closed as he’s singing along to the third mixtape of the night. Space Age Love Song, which Eddie pretends to hate. But how could he hate it when it makes Steve look like that? When it thus steals Eddie’s breath, his heart, his sanity?
And then, for a moment, for one perfect, drawn-out moment, all Eddie Munson can do anymore is watch. And listen. And feel. Because what he sees and hears and feels is everything.
His breath is lodged in his throat as he reaches for his little sketchbook — the special one, littered with drawings and doodles and musings of Steve. His face, his hands, the constellations of his moles. The occasional DnD related sketch in there, because Steve just inspires him.
His pencil dances over the page in practiced, familiar movements as he tries to capture the moment on paper. It’s hard, though, because Steve’s nose is scrunched a little with that smile that Eddie’s not even sure Steve’s aware of, and his dimples tell a story of their own tonight. A story of contentment rather than joy or amusement. Eddie has to try and try again, never quite getting it right, this perfection, and he curses a little under his breath.
“What are you drawing?” Steve asks, turning his head and opening his eyes a little, squinting but curious.
“Nothing,” Eddie smiles, pulling the sketch closer to his chest, away from Steve’s sleepy, lazy, slow attempt to reach for it. “Go back to sleep.”
“‘M not asleep,” he sighs, rolling over onto his side, watching Eddie and reaching for his ankle — just to touch. To hold. To feel.
It makes Eddie smile. “No?”
“No,” Steve says, helpless not to smile back, and Eddie wants to kiss him. “Just… I don’t know. ‘S nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Perfect.”
Eddie discards the sketchbook and goes to lie down beside Steve, wrapping one arm around his middle, the other coming up to take Steve’s, their fingers intertwined between their faces.
“Then I think the word you’re looking for is basking.”
Steve hums again, touching his forehead to Eddie’s knuckles before brushing featherlight kisses over them. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Basking.”
Eddie’s heart is ready to beat out of his chest, make a life of its own fuelled by the perfection of this moment. Everything about it. Everything.
Outside, the rain picks up even more, a wave of cold air coming into the van that makes Steve cuddle closer to him, until their foreheads are touching. Eddie closes his eyes, breathes him in, and slowly inches forward, tilting his head to claim Steve’s lips in a gentle kiss.
They trade slow, sensual kisses for a while. Steve’s hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking whatever skin he can find, caressing his cheek, his chin, his jaw, while Eddie plays with Steve’s hair.
In the end it’s Steve who pulls back first, eyes open, just watching Eddie. Taking him in, making him feel seen rather than watched.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Answering is as easy as breathing. And just as difficult. Just as impossible. His love, his breath — they both belong to Steve, completely and entirely.
Steve, who smiles at him like being loved by Eddie Munson means something to him. Like it means everything. Like it can mean Forever. Eddie feels like he might not survive tonight it Steve continues to be so genuine, so honest, so raw, so open, so vulnerable, so pretty, so beautiful, so absolutely breathtakingly everything.
“Can I see what you were drawing?”
“You,” Eddie says, reaching behind him blindly in search for his book, too weak to refuse Steve anything he asks for. “I was drawing you.”
“You were?”
Eddie nods, feeling a heat creeping up on his cheeks.
“Sap,” Steve grins, leaning in to plant a kiss on Eddie’s cheek as he reaches over him for the sketchbook. “Can I?”
“Knock yourself out,” Eddie grumbles, rolling them so Steve’s lying on his back and Eddie can sprawl on top of him. Hide his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, hide the way he’s flushing, hide the absolutely obvious way he’s a goner for Steve fucking Harrington.
He hears the gasps, hears the pages being flipped, the little giggles of surprise, the hums and tiny, secret little ohs. He hears them and he holds his breath, beginning to shiver for a reason that even the cool breeze cannot compete with.
“Eddie,” Steve breathes. Doesn’t say anything else for a while. And Eddie wonders if Steve is in the same boat, in the same condition, if he has these moments, too. Moments like this. He wonders, and he hopes, and he wishes.
But Steve doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Eddie, and the music switches to Springsteen. Tougher Than the Rest. It’s always been too soft for Eddie, but right now it serves to give the word perfect a new melody.
“Dance with me,” Steve breathes.
“Hm?”
“Dance with me. Please?”
“In the rain?”
“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, tightens his hold around Eddie as if he forgot that they still had to get up and get out there.
“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, lifting himself from Steve’s chest and climbing out of the car, warm rain immediately drenching his clothes. It makes him laugh, a boyish little thing that bubbles out of him as he holds out his hands to help Steve out.
Steve takes his hand, jumping out with a small giggle of his own, making for a glorious vision: happy and giddy against the golden light inside the van, his wild hair soon drenched completely, sticking to his face where he shakes his head, showing droplets of water left and right.
It doesn’t fit the song, doesn’t fit the notion of basking, but they’re both laughing and breathless, clinging to each other in the moonlit night somewhere at the foot of weathertop, far away from everyone else that they might just be the only two people left in the world. Two silly boys, giddy and breathless and stupidly in love.
It makes Eddie pause. Swallow. It makes his heart go wild as he stills.
“What?” Steve asks, stilling as well, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was coming, if someone’s watching them.
Eddie pulls him closer, makes Steve meet his eyes again as he rests his hands around his neck. “Dance with me.”
A smile spreads Steve’s lips, breaking through all of Eddie’s walls to let the light in — even in the middle of the night. “Okay,” he breathes.
And if you’re brave enough for love, // Honey, I’m tougher than the rest.
The sound of rain isn’t loud enough to drown out the music, but still Eddie can barely hear it over the sound of his own heart. Over the sound of I love you, I love you, I love you. Over the sound of Is this forever? Can this be forever?
They slow dance to Springsteen, then to Tears for Fears, and eventually to Prince. They dance until Steve begins to shiver in his arms, until the rain has drenched them so completely that none of the day’s heat is left in the air and the breeze is getting uncomfortable. And then, they dance a little longer, because Steve is capturing Eddie’s lips again, slow and unhurried and like he means it. Like he means it all.
“One day,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips. “One day I’m going to marry you. I’ll find a way.”
And it’s Eddie this time who gasps, who falls into Steve because his knees are giving out. It’s Eddie who’s lost for words.
But he doesn’t need words, because Steve is kissing him again, holding him up, holding him, holding his heart and his life and his future in hands so gentle and sure that Eddie wants to fall apart, just a little bit.
“Not if I marry you first,” he says eventually, brushing one last bruising kiss to Steve’s lips before pulling back and climbing into the van, dripping as he is.
Steve, laughing and giggling, follows immediately after him, pulling off his clothes in a hurry to get under the blanket. Eddie watches him with a leer — at least until Steve kicks him in the side and tells him to get out of these clothes and come under the blanket to warm up.
“If you wanted to get me naked, you could’a just said so, Harrington. Didn’t have to propose first.”
Steve grins, helpless against it, blushing a little and hiding his face in the blanket even as he reaches for Eddie to come closer.
But Eddie doesn’t, and awkwardly climbs over Steve to reach for the driver’s side door.
“What are you—“
Steve shuts up when Eddie retrieves the mason jar, his mouth clicking shut adorably, making Eddie grin, vulnerable and nervous and raw as he feels.
“Told myself I’d capture a perfect moment for you. What do you think, does it qualify?”
Steve swallows. Nods. Reaches for Eddie once more, who shuffles closer until Steve can test his head on his shoulder.
“Can’t believe you remembered,” he murmurs, trailing his index finger along the lid.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Eddie grins, making Steve laugh. Alleviating the moment, but not dislodging it. “So?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “It’s perfect. I’m… God, I love you so much, Eddie, shit.”
“And that’s how I’m gonna label it,” Eddie grins.
“Not One day I’m gonna marry you?”
And Eddie’s breath hitches again. He lowers the mason jar, meeting Steve’s eyes this time. He wants to ask; needs to ask. Needs to know.
“Do you mean that?” It’s whispered; he doesn’t have the strength or the bravery to be any louder.
Steve’s hands come up to his cheeks, cradling his face in the gentlest way as he holds Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie Munson,” he says, “one day I’m going to marry you. And I won’t let you marry me first.”
Between them, Eddie opens the mason jar just as Steve leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss that really is nothing less than a promise. Nothing less than Forever.
happy birthday @anzelsilver i have the hugest “pls be my friend” crush on you so i decided to write you a lil thing and hope you enjoy this and the rest of your week 🫶🤍🌷
It's a random Wednesday night, and Steve is hanging out with Eddie Munson. Not that that's exactly a weird thing anymore since the world went to shit and Eddie had this whole "you saved my life and I'm going to annoy you for the rest of yours to show my gratitude" type of thing going on. (And yes, he had said those exact words so many times that Steve had memorized them).
But tonight, they kind of just... sit. Not that Steve is complaining. He hates being alone, and always has, so just having someone next to him is nice.
He glances over at Eddie whose eyes are shut, so Steve allows himself to really look.
He had always prided himself in knowing he was comfortable enough in his masculinity to notice when men were attractive. And Eddie certainly was very very attractive. And strangely... pretty.
He has those nice big eyes that make Steve wonder if it makes girls feel all tingly when Eddie looks at them. If they notice the way he's not afraid to make eye contact and lean into it until it feels like he's got their soul on display and memorized it.
He wonders if the girls stare at his full lips and if their hearts flutter when he runs his tongue over his top lip. If they feel all warm and flushed when they imagine what it would be like to feel their lips against his.
Steve nearly groans at the thought for some reason. He wonders if Eddie would kiss a girl gently as if she were fragile or if he would be rough and enthusiastic with the same energy he usually has buzzing around him whenever he walks into a room. He wonders if the girl would run her hand through his hair, and if it's as soft as it looks or if her fingers would get tangled and pull-
"You've gotta stop looking at me like that," Eddie says, startling Steve out of his thoughts as he notices his eyes are now open and on him.
He takes a moment to collect himself and process what he just said. "Like what?"
Eddie looks at him and turns his head away, and Steve tries not to get lost in his profile and the slope of his nose-
Eddie sighs and shakes his head, muttering something like I guess now is the time under his breath, and Steve has no idea what that means. "I mean," Eddie starts and glances at Steve nervously, "You have to stop looking at me with that Harrington look. The one that charms all those girls out of their pants."
Steve scoffs, "I don't have a look."
"You do," Eddie insists as his hand comes up to fiddle with his rings.
Steve looks at Eddie's hands and pulls his eyes away before his thoughts run a mile a minute. "Okay, so maybe I do, but why can't I look at you like that?" As soon as Steve asks, he knows it's a stupid question, but he hopes Eddie gets what he means.
Eddie raises his eyebrows at him and shakes his head. His mouth opens and closes and he groans, leaning over to grab his beer and chug half of it in one go. Steve tries not to look at the tendons in his neck as he swallows.
"Because I'm not those girls," Eddie says as he puts his can back down, "But I certainly think like them."
Steve tilts his head a little and knows that Robin would laugh at him for doing the golden retriever look as she puts it, but he's confused. He guesses by Eddie's sigh that the metalhead can tell he needs more explanation.
Eddie's knees come up to his chest as he turns towards Steve. "Just don't... punch me, okay?"
Steve nods and wonders what that means.
Eddie takes a deep breath and his damn tongue worries his top lip, and it's almost so distracting that Steve almost doesn't hear him say, "I'm gay."
It takes Steve a while to process, and he feels like for some reason his whole view of Eddie changes but... in an exciting way. Almost anticipatory. But he's also still so Eddie that Steve just kind of shrugs.
Apparently, his reaction is a little too late because Eddie is rambling as if he needs to defend himself as he explains, "At first I thought I was maybe bisexual or something, and I held out hope that maybe some girl would come along and I would be wooed or whatever, but then I realized all these crushes I had on girls were kind of just friend crushes and I didn't want to kiss them but-"
"What's bisexual?" Steve asks and continues, "Like what does that mean?"
"It's when a person like girls and boys," Eddie explains and continues on.
But Steve hears nothing else Eddie rambles on about because all that's happening in his head is little flashes of memories of all these men he's found attractive, and how he thought it was normal for men to feel all fluttery when they see another attractive man. Especially one like Eddie who makes Steve feel like his heart is about to rip out of his chest, but he just thought that's how Eddie makes people feel... especially girls.
Or maybe especially guys. Especially guys like Steve.
Shit. Holy shit.
"Steve?" Eddie asks gently, "Are you okay?"
Steve glances back at Eddie and looks at him. Like really really looks at him. And then he focuses on how he feels.
Like maybe... maybe the girls he always wonders about... maybe they're him. Maybe he wants to know what it's like to kiss Eddie and run his hands through his hair. Maybe he's...
"There's that look again," Eddie teases lightly but Steve can see the thin veil of terror he's trying to hide in his features.
"What was that word again?" Steve asks sounding more breathless than he realized he was.
Eddie furrows his brow and shakes his head.
"The bi... the bicycle type word," Steve explains hoping that'll work well enough since he can't properly say the definition right now.
"Bisexual?" Eddie tries.
Steve nods and mumbles, "Bisexual." It feels... weird. But it feels right. But it also feels almost shameful? And how the hell did he not realize this until now?
"Steve," Eddie says and lays his hand over Steve's. His rings are cold against Steve's hand.
"Eddie, what if?" Steve takes a deep breath and tries again, "What if that was me?"
Eddie stares at him for a moment and just nods slowly looking deeply lost in thought until he suddenly clears his throat and asks, "Have you ever felt... attracted to a man or wanted to kiss one?"
Steve can't help but have his eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips. "Yes," he says without thinking too hard about it.
Eddie's eyes flicker to Steve's lips as he practically whispers, "I told you, you got to stop with that look."
"Is it working?" Steve asks as he leans in.
He doesn't expect the hand to his chest as he's shoved back lightly but firmly. "You just figured out what bisexuality is, you can't just..." Eddie's hands flap about as he gestures between them.
"Says who?" Steve asks and Eddie just gestures more and mumbles some incoherent phrases. Steve gently grabs his hands and holds them still. "Eddie, I really want to kiss you."
Eddie's eyes widen as he mutters out, "The speed at which you're bypassing this gay panic is alarmingly fast."
"Bisexual panic," Steve corrects trying the word out again to make sure he got it right plus to tease Eddie who huffs. "If you don't want to kiss me, you can just say it," Steve says, thinking that's maybe the problem.
Eddie shakes his head and rambles out, "I've wanted to kiss you since you ripped that damn bat's head off, Christ." He flails back and runs his hands over his face before turning back to Steve and inching closer to him. "Just... promise you won't punch me if you hate this?"
"Promise," Steve says with a wide smile as he cups Eddie's face.
"Holy shit, I'm about to kiss Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington is about to kiss m-"
"Eddie?"
Eddie hums in response.
"I'm gonna kiss you now," Steve says, trying not to laugh as Eddie seems to be panicking about this way more than he is.
Eddie nods and leans forward along with Steve.
Their lips meet and Steve can't help but smile slightly against his lips as Eddie treats him like Steve had half imagined - sweet and gentle as if Steve were the most fragile thing in the world. Then, the kiss shifts as Eddie's lips move roughly against his, using that same frantic, manic energy he always has as his hands come up to tug Steve's hair.
Steve groans and realizes he can do that too, and Eddie's hair is just as soft as he imagined, but then Eddie's pulling away and Steve is chasing after his lips before he notices the look Eddie is giving him. Is this okay?
"Definitely bisexual," Steve announces before pulling Eddie back in and kissing him again.
He's going to have a field day telling Robin later.
“Dingus, I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me here, the Russians did a number on how many of my braincells are actually working.”
“How did you know that you liked girls?”
Robin Buckley immediately pushed herself up so she was resting on her elbows, head tilted to catch Steve Harrington’s eyes in the low light of their hospital room.
They weren’t originally even going to go to the hospital, if Robin was being honest. They had just wanted to slip away back to their respective homes, but then Melissa and Richard Buckley caught wind that Robin was hurt. Then the both of them realized that Steve’s parents (if Robin has to use that term to describe them) had less than zero intention of sending anyone to pick up Steve.
Then EMS made the light suggestion of both of them probably needing to go to Hawkins General Hospital… and well, while Melissa and Richard did tend to lead toward more natural remedies… one couldn’t fix a concussion or a drugging with an unknown substance with essential oils and hope.
“Robbie? Did you OD over there?” Steve had himself up on his elbows, easily mimicking Robin. That’s the thing that makes the inside of Robin ache, that he’s so like her. She knows that she’s an only child, knows that, but sometimes Steve’ll just… do something and it makes her question it. Makes her wonder how she spent so long without him, without another brain and two legs and arms and so much hair. “Robbie?”
“No, I am still alive.” Robin slowly spoke, before she let out a soft sigh. “Why do you ask?”
“Like-” Steve huffed as he shook his head from side to side, before he used the one hand that was free from the pulse monitor and saline drip to card through his hair. It’s sleep ruffled, and if he uses product (Robin is sure he does), it’s for sure gone. Steve looks up though, and his eyes are so earnest that it causes something to hurt inside of Robin. “never mind just ignore- fuck - just ignore me.”
“I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, you idiot.” Robin let out a huff, and she winced as the PICC line in her arm shifted as tilted to be able to fully face Steve on her side. “But I just, dingus, this is out of left field for even you.”
“How so?”
“Did you even know that, that people like me even existed until a couple of hours ago?” Robin kept her voice soft, especially as Steve huffed out an indignant sounding sigh. Robin sighs though, and then she cards her own hand through her hair, and forges onward. “I think I’ve just… always known.”
“Always?”
“Yeah like-” Robin shrugged, a careful movement of her shoulders. “When I was like, eight? My uh, parents sent me to this camp thing- like summer camp kind of like what Dustin went to? But with, y’know, with the swimming and archery and dude I was fucking awful at it.” Steve let out a soft and watery laugh at Robin’s rambling, and that gave Robin enough power to continue. “But we uh, had these like songs we had to learn? And there was this uh, girl counselor there that had to teach me because you know, that was her job.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, and uh. She couldn’t have been older than I am now but man…” Robin let out a slow whistle, and allowed herself to fully melt into the hospital cot she’s laid up on. “All I could think was that I just wanted to be with her. Like not even kissing because I thought kissing was gross then, still do now kinda but anyway- I wanted to like, hold her hand and shit. Do the cheesy stuff I’d seen in the movies, y’know?”
Steve huffed out his own laugh, and he tilted his head to lean against his pillows instead of facing Robin. Robin watched though, quiet for once, as Steve swallowed once and then twice- before he cleared his throat.
“I knew it existed before you.”
“What?”
“It.”
“Dingus-”
“Girls liking girls.” Steve’s voice is barely above a whisper, even as Robin can hear him gulp in a lungful of air. “And boys liking boys.”
“You did?” Robin kept her voice quiet, gentle, as coaxing as she could- especially when she could see Steve’s throat bob. “Dingus?”
“I…” Steve doesn’t continue, and that’s enough.
Enough to Robin that she pushed herself up, and ignored the pain that ricocheted down her spine like needles. Ignored Steve’s hurried ‘what are-’, as she stumbled out of her hospital bed and right to Steve’s. She made sure to drag her IV pole and the monitor with her, situating it as best as she could next to Steve’s. Robin huffed quietly as the pain trickled down her spine, and she couldn’t help but smile as Steve curled his hand carefully around her wrist and tugged.
Robin got comfortable, let Steve fret over her as best as he could, his fingers only ever-so slightly trembling as he made sure that the line in her arm wasn’t kinked up. They were pressed close, side to side and hip to hip, and Robin tilted her head down until it was rested on Steve’s shoulder.
“Wanna keep going, Stevie?”
“No.”
“But?”
“I…” Steve huffed again, a small indignant noise that Robin mimicked.
They sat like that then, just the two of them for a moment, before Steve continued slowly.
“I’ve never, told anyone this- like I’ve told Tommy H. so much shit about me - but this is… Robin this is different.” Steve speaks in a hurried and stilted way, like he’s stringing together bits and pieces of sentences, and it shouldn’t work.
But it does because he’s Steve and she’s Robin.
And truthfully, Robin likes that. That they’re Steve and Robin. SteveandRobin. RobinandSteve. Likes that the two of them are so in tune that even her own mother didn’t want to separate them.
That had to mean something in the end, didn’t it?
“Tell me, whatever… whenever.” Robin murmured as she turned her head so she could press a soft kiss to Steve’s shoulder. The hospital gown is thin enough she can feel the heat of his skin from up under it, and that’s grounding. Grounding even as Steve drew in a shaky breath, audibly swallowing again. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”
“I didn’t uh, notice Tammy in Ms. Click’s class or uh, you for a reason.” Steve slowly spoke, eyes wet, and Robin can hear his sniffle as he tried to reign his emotions back. “Ms. Click made him sit uh, right by her desk at the front of the room.”
And oh.
Oh.
If that doesn’t immediately settle something that just usually writhes around in Robin’s chest.
“Him?” Robin is gentle, gentler than she thinks she’s ever been.
“Uh, yeah… Eddie Munson?” Steve huffed out an almost dry laugh, the only thing that he does that ever remotely reminds her of his time as his high school “King Steve” persona. “He uh, got this bat tattoo right before that year’s Thanksgiving break and all I could do was just… gawk at him.”
“And then what?” Robin knew she was pushing, searching for information, but she can’t help it. Not when Steve is right next to her, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. Not when he’s like her. In all the ways that matter.
“I went home and screamed into my pillow.”
Robin immediately smacked Steve’s thigh with the knuckles of her left hand- grinning in triumph when Steve let out a squawk of laughter.
“Eddie Munson?”
“What about him?”
“He’s… he’s a total dud!”
“No he’s not!”
“He stepped in my mashed potatoes once! That is totally total dud material!”
“No way!”
“He wants to be like, like a metal singer!”
“He has a band! Dreams!”
“Do you even know if he can hold a tune?”
“Well, no-”
“Total. Dud.”
Robin grinned wide as Steve launched into a very quick defense about Eddie, and she decides then and there that Steve and her? They’ll be just fine.
Especially if she can get Eddie to come into Steve and her’s orbit just a bit, to see if the crush is still there.
Because while Robin may not have all of the gay knowledge in the world, there is one thing for a complete certainty that she knows.
The black hanky that Eddie kept in his pocket?
Well…
Robin chuffed to herself, before she tilted so she could lay on her side- nose tucked into the place where Steve’s neck and shoulder met.
Right before she falls asleep though, Robin does a very important thing on a mental whiteboard.
You Rule: 1
You Suck: 0
hope you all enjoyed! truthfully think this is one of my favorite things i have written. love platonic stobin. <3
@steddie-week Day 3: First Kiss
Steddie first meeting/kiss with some minor Buckingham. Fun fact: this was a Valentine's ficlet that I forgot to post. :) Enjoy.
For someone who claims to be Steve’s wingman, Robin is doing a great fucking job of keeping guys away from him. The guy Steve has been chatting with for the last few minutes gives him a strained smile before slipping off, and Steve turns to look at Robin, who has basically plastered herself to his side.
“Robin, what the fuck? That’s like the third guy you’ve run off!”
“I know, I know, but he wasn’t right for you! Waaay too douchey and uptight.”
Steve rolls his eyes and takes a sip from his drink. “I’m after a kiss, not a boyfriend, Robbie. Maybe a blowjob in the back if I’m lucky. I’m not exactly looking for a sparkling personality here.”
“I know, but-” She pauses, knocks back the rest of her own drink before turning to face the dance floor. “I just don’t want you to regret your first guy-kiss. I’m not saying it has to be like, fireworks and shit, but you should enjoy it.”
“Honestly, at this point I think I’d rather just get it over with, if it will get you to chill out a little.”
“I’m just trying to help, Steve!” Robin says, and Steve rolls his eyes. She opens her mouth to say something else but stops when a girl walks up to them, her blonde ponytail swishing gently behind her, and Steve bites back a smile when she steps into Robin’s space.
“Hi there,” she says, and Robin’s face instantly flushes with color. “Oh, uh, hi.”
“I’m Chrissy, and you’re like, super pretty,” the girl, Chrissy says, and Steve can practically see the gears in Robin’s brain grinding to a halt as she bats her eyelashes at his best friend. He bites into his lip as Chrissy reaches up and slips a finger under one of Robin’s suspender straps, giving it a gentle tug. “Do you maybe wanna dance with me?”
Robin’s eyes snap to Steve and he gives her an encouraging thumbs up, and after a quick, eager nod, Chrissy is giggling and pulling her off to the dance floor. Steve chuckles and shakes his head before he downs the rest of his drink. He sets the empty glass on the bar top just as he feels someone moving in next to him.
“Your friend is awfully protective of you, isn’t she? I’m not surprised, considering how gorgeous you are.”
Steve turns to face the new voice, and his stomach flips. The guy is stunning, with a riot of curls and brown eyes that look almost black in the dim lighting. He’s wearing a leather jacket over some band t-shirt, paired with ripped black jeans and scuffed black boots. Steve is definitely interested, and he leans in a little as he smiles.
“Mm, she’s supposed to be my wingman, but she’s being a picky little shit.”
The guy grins and Steve’s blood rushes at the bit of silver that flashes behind white teeth. “Yeah, I noticed. I had to get my friend to distract her so she wouldn’t be able to run me off too.”
Steve can’t stop the laugh that escapes him as he beams at the guy. “Chrissy was your idea? Holy fuck, thank you for that. I love Robin, but she’s kind of been suuuuper extra tonight.”
“Well, I’m glad I could give you a break. To be honest, though, Chrissy was already kind of eyeing her before I asked her to step in.” He glances out to the dance floor and Steve follows his gaze, sees Chrissy with her arms wrapped around Robin’s neck, the two pressed close as they dance together.
“Chrissy is gonna eat her alive," Steve says, and the guys laughs.
"Too fucking true," he replies, and turns back to Steve. He holds out a hand. "I'm Eddie, by the way."
Steve takes Eddie’s hand and glances down, takes in chunky rings and nice fingers that have heat swirling in his stomach. "Steve."
Eddie’s thumb swipes over Steve’s knuckles, showing no sign of releasing his hand as he asks "Well, Steve, can I ask what you're looking for on this fine evening?"
Steve hums in consideration before saying "I'll tell you, but you can't make fun of me, okay?" and Eddie makes an 'x' over his heart in a silent promise.
"So, I'm bi, but I just figured it out recently. I've never kissed a guy before, and Robin brought me out here to hopefully get me at least that much, but as you've seen, she's been pretty picky about it. I’m honestly just ready to get it over with at this point."
Eddie’s eyes go hungry and he tugs on Steve’s hand a bit, pulling them even closer together. “Well, if you’re interested, I’d be more than happy to help you accomplish that, baby.”
Steve feels a bit weak in the knees as he nods, and Eddie gives him a lopsided grin before he pulls Steve away from the bar, back into a little hallway that leads to the back door.
The lights are even more dim back here, but the glow from the exit sign feels bright as it reflects off Eddie’s rings, as it bathes the apples of his cheeks in red. It feels like they’re in their own little world now that they’re away from the crowd, and Steve is grateful for the little bit of privacy and quiet.
Hands move to hold Steve’s waist and Eddie guides him where he wants him, moving Steve so his back is pressed against the wall, and he finds that he definitely doesn’t mind Eddie taking the lead like this. Eddie leans in close and Steve can’t resist sliding his hands up into that gorgeous hair, gets briefly distracted when he uncovers Eddie’s ears and sees the jewelry littering them.
“See something pretty, sweetheart?” he asks, amused, and hazel eyes snap back to chocolate brown.
“I like your jewelry.”
“Well, thank you.” Eddie smiles and his grip tightens. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”
Steve nods, says “Please, Eddie,” and the man is closing the gap, leaning in until their mouths are slotted together and Steve melts. Eddie tastes like tequila and lime, and he kisses Steve like he means it, like Steve is something he’s been waiting for. It’s addicting, especially when Eddie’s tongue finds its way into Steve’s mouth and he gets to lick the unforgiving metal of the piercing that runs through it.
Everything feels sparkly and explosive in the best way possible - Robin said something about not needing fireworks, but Steve thinks he's found them anyway, thinks Eddie might feel them too.
Steve quickly loses track of time as Eddie kisses him within an inch of his life. He wasn’t prepared for this, for Eddie, but he knows now that he’s had a taste, it’s going to be hard to just walk away from the other man.
It’s far too soon when Eddie pulls back, pressing a final peck to Steve’s mouth.
“How’s that, sweetheart?” he asks softly, and Steve gives him a dopey grin as he twirls one of those curls around his finger.
“Pretty good, but I think you should do it again, juuust so I can be sure.”
Eddie chuckles and kisses him again, chaste and far too brief, before muttering against his lips. “Why don’t we get out of here, sweetheart? I’ll kiss you as many times as you need, all night if I have to.”
With a grin and a nod, they head back out into the main area. They split up briefly, Steve making his way over to Robin who is still wrapped around Chrissy, and he taps her on the shoulder. When she turns to face him he jabs his thumb towards the door.
“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I’m heading out.”
Her face drops and she grabs his arm. “But we haven’t gotten you a kiss yet! I’m sure we can find someone to-”
“Robs, you already missed it.”
“What?!”
Steve rolls his eyes and grabs her before pointing at Eddie who is currently paying his tab at the bar. He hears Chrissy laugh and he turns to give her a big smile and a smacking kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for your help distracting Robin, Chrissy.”
“No problem. You two have fun,” she says with a giggle and a wink, and Steve looks at Robin.
“You should keep this one,” he says, only giving her a second to sputter in indignation before he’s walking off. He throws a “Don’t wait up for me!” over his shoulder, and grins as he heads back to where Eddie is waiting, eager to taste the fireworks again.
Thinking about a deaf actor Steve Harrington x sign language interpreter Eddie Munson au.
Thinking about them doing interviews together and half the time it's just Eddie rolling his eyes and signing to Steve 'This guy asks really shit questions.' 'He thinks you're hot, can I tell him we're dating?' They weren't even dating yet. A lot of the time, Eddie has to smile and sign, 'He told a bad joke, laugh.' 'Too much, it wasn't that funny.'
Thinking about Steve eventually learning how to lip read and not needing Eddie to interpret as much but still bringing him to every event because having Eddie by his side just feels right, they're best friends after all.
Seeing them together becomes such a common sight that when they're on their own, they're immediately asked where the other is. A popular picture of Eddie features him wearing a shirt that says, 'Steve's not with me. Leave me alone' and it covers magazines for weeks.
Thinking about Steve finally getting the courage to confess to Eddie while he's standing up on stage after winning an award.
They've both been too scared to say anything, scared that talking about their feelings would ruin their friendship, but standing up there on that stage, Steve decides he doesn't want to be scared anymore. He signs, 'I love you' directly to Eddie, who's sat in the front row as Steve's plus one, and Eddie laughs, cries, and signs it right back at Steve.
Boring. Booooring. Borrrring. BoOoRrRINg. No matter how Eddie spelled it, it still sucked. Everyone so prim, so proper, so focused. And yeah, Eddie was over the moon that he had a stable and fairly well paying job, don't get him wrong, but he'd always had a rebellious streak and now he really, REALLY felt the urge to shake things up.
It started innocently enough, with a 1 dollar goggly eye sticker sheet in the display window of the local stationery shop. So sue Eddie, he liked ridiculous crap, no doubt inherited from Wayne Munson and his mug empire. So Eddie bought the sticker sheet and the next day, he secretly stuck a pair of goggly eyes onto Nancy Wheeler's webcam. He really wanted to see if there was anything else to her than the painfully annoying drive and perfection.
He got his wish when Nancy was preparing for her Zoom call and Robin Buckley snuck behind her, pressing a finger against her lips. "Shhhh. Not a word. You're being watched," she whispered and pointed at the webcam.
That was when Eddie learned Nancy had the cutest snort laugh and that Robin grew an even cuter shade of pink when she heard it. Two birds, one stone and all that .
He decided to keep his identity as the goggly eye bandit a secret. No one knew where and when he'd strike.
Meeting invites? If you looked closely enough, you'd see a small goggly eye stuck in the g of the word meeting.
Forgotten lunch in the kitchen fridge? One goggly eye per day, growing like mold.
A directive against use of goggly eyes? Of course there would be a NO spelled out of goggly eyes.
The office became a beautiful, goggly eye-infested place. Not boring anymore, not when the team lead found his stack of business cards gogglified.
But then.
THEN.
Someone started to add puffy cartoon-ish lips to his goggly eyes. Eddie couldn't believe it - his rebellion was being rebelled against. Or co-rebelled. His mockery was being mocked. And the worst part was - no one knew it was him so he couldn't complain anywhere. What would he say to the HR? That he voluntarily took upon himself the responsibilities of the office gogglifier position and someone has been encroaching on his territory?
But that wasn't the end of Eddie's suffering, oh no. Because in his anger, he got sloppy - on Friday he came home, slammed his backpack on the desk...and the goggly eye sheet was gone. He searched for it frantically, retracing his steps, praying he hadn't done the only possible thing - leave it on the pile of paperwork on his desk. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the repercussions would be when he came back to the office on Monday. He was certain he was fucked.
Except...not?
Monday came and Eddie rushed to the office, throwing himself onto the pile of papers on his desk and digging, digging...and finding nothing.
Huh. Maybe he lost it outside? Maybe he accidentally threw it out?
As he moved his chair to start his work day, he noticed an envelope on his work seat, labelled - "FAO Mr. Munson". Probably another directive, notice or something.
Nope. It was his goggly eye sheet. Along with a horrendous lip sticker and a note that said I ONLY HAVE EYES FOR YOU.
You might think that this was the biggest shock of that week for Eddie, but you'd be wrong.
The real shock came the same day, when he attended a joint team meeting in which the office pretty boy, Steve Harrington, was presenting, making notes on the whiteboard, and, after an agonizing half an hour, Eddie finally realized why the handwriting seemed so familiar. Because there was a small twirl in the Os that Harrington wrote and the puffy lip bandit note burned in Eddie's pocket, tempting him to take it out and confirm his suspicions.
As everyone started leaving the conference room, Eddie still stared at the whiteboard, wondering if this was it, if he finally found his arch nemesis.
Harrington just motioned towards Eddie's company badge and touched it, briefly pressing the plastic into Eddie's chest. "Looking nice there, Munson." He winked at Eddie and left.
Eddie's confusion very quickly dissipated when he noticed that the fucker stuck a puffy lip thingy onto his picture in the badge. His lips curled into an evil smile as he exited the conference room.
Eddie Munson is the defacto leader of a coed theater fraternity at his Uni. They’re a close knit bunch who have each others back at all times, even if the rest of their school might see them as a joke.
The only problem is that their meetings are historically usurped by the Alpha Phi frat house who happen to be placed right next to the classroom that they are forced to squeeze their meetings into. Do they get a frat house? No, of course not. It doesn’t help that Eddie has actual beef with the frats vice president, some floppy haired idiot he refuses to learn the name of (Steve Harrington) because he’s stolen Eddie’s parking space like five times since the semester began and he keeps stopping by their class, seemingly looking for Eddie (who definitely doesn’t dip out to hide every time, he’s not about to fight some sports scholarship kid)
It doesn’t help that the animosity between the two groups isn’t new. It doesn’t help that they’ve been fucking with each other years before Eddie even arrived at the Uni. It’s kind of a time honored tradition to try and get under each others skin.
So when Benny the Octopus goes missing one day, naturally, Eddie freaks the fuck out. That’s their octopus made of welded together scrap metal, thank you very much and he’s been in the theater for over a decade. They protect Benny, they love Benny. How did the frat even get their hands on him? And if you, like Robin, are bothering to ask “Why would you assume it was them, Eddie?” Then you can actually just shut the fuck up because it was definitely 100% them.
This entire ordeal leads to Eddie taking one for the team, obviously. Which further leads to Eddie sacrificing himself in the name of Benny to climb the short distance up the back of Alpha Sigmas stupid little frat house and into their second floor bathroom because it’s the only point of entry that Eddie can truly find that won’t get him automatically tackled to the ground. Could he go to a higher up and solve this problem without breaking and entering? Maybe. But that’s boring.
So he goes on his espionage recovery mission, realizing too late that maybe he isn’t the sneakiest person imaginable as he grapples with vines and barely manages to get solid footing on the ledged roof below him. And then he’s in the bathroom, pulling himself through the window and- right. It doesn’t matter that it’s 2 am. This is a frat house, Eddie. These are frat guys, why would they be asleep?
It’s with a big whopping holy fuck oh no what have I done, that Eddie falls through the window and onto the floor of a steamy, recently used bathroom. Because someone had been showering. Because said someone is standing there with a towel held firmly over his crotch, a deer in headlights expression marking his face as brunette hair drips onto his chest.
And Eddie has no clue what to do because being faced with a naked, let alone wet Steve Harrington is doing things to his brain (and his dick) that he can’t really handle.
And then Steve opens his mouth to blurt out “Whyareyouinmybathroom pleasedonthurtme!” And okay, that’s maybe a little dramatic. Which Eddie tells him, before realizing that he is in fact wearing a ski mask. So like, fair. But then it clicks on Steve’s face and he relaxes fast into a bitchy frown. “You’re that fucking theater kid, aren’t you?”
Which, okay. Eddie wasn’t aware Steve even knew him.
He makes his way off the floor and “I’d offer to shake your hand but uh-“ Steve turns bright red and winds the towel around his waist as quickly as possible. Right. Down to business. “I want Benny back.” Which, as it turns out, Steve feigns like he has no clue who Benny even is. Rude. “Big, metal, kind of looks like shit.”
Steve could not get any redder as Eddie tries to explain himself in a roundabout way, not at all going into a tangent about his distaste for the frat while Steve drips onto the floor. And then-
“I have no clue what you’re talking about and it sounds like you have weird one sided beef because I have never intentionally done anything to upset you.”
And that’s just- that is not true. That’s not true. At all.
“You steal my parking space!”
“They’re not assigned!”
“It’s a respect thing and you keep coming to my meetings, looking for me by name! Which is weird by the way!”
“I wanted your number!”
As soon as Steve blurts it out, he clams right up and Eddie just- he just- “You wanted my number?” Because that’s inconceivable. That doesn’t make sense. “Why didn’t you just ask for it?”
“Because you hide every time I try to find you!” Steve blurted out again, eyes squeezed shut like he was genuinely embarrassed and right. He was naked and maybe had a crush on Eddie? Which was- yeah, Eddie wanted to touch him now. But he wanted to be cautious too. So he made his way closer slowly, trying to give Steve an out. He really was so pretty close up, a fact that Eddie had been trying desperately to deny for so long now.
Eddie reached up and pulled his stupid mask off, staring at Steve as his eyes opened back up, tentative and stressed.
“You could ask me for it now,” Eddie said with a small grin, lips upturned as Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “I might say yes.”
Steve rolled his eyes, reaching up to smack Eddie across the back of his head. Eddie caught his hand and pulled him into an unmasked kiss.
what if Steve gets the hiccups all the time and Robin and everyone and the whole party are constantly coming up with “remedies” for hiccups but they’re actually just pranks to make Steve do dumb stuff.
Robin tells him doing a handstand against a brick wall cures hiccups, but his house isn’t brick so he walks to a neighbor’s brick house and asks if he can handstand against their house and Robin is laughing as she watches Steve’s neighbors just baffled and confused as he does a handstand against their house.
Dustin tells him if he holds a frog in one hand and eats a pickle with the other, something about the interaction of the sodium and the chemicals in the frogs’ skin reacting in his body will make the hiccups go away. Steve falls for it, and is shivering in disgust as he holds a poor slimy confused little frog and eats a pickle (which he hates).
Eddie hears about the ongoing prank and gets in on it.
One night they’re at a party and they’ve been hanging out all night together. Eddie loves it. Steve is great. He’s a good friend and he’s fun to be around, fun to talk to. He’s also hot, which Eddie is bummed that he can’t take direct advantage of, but one of his best friends being veritable eye candy is no hardship. Look but don’t touch. Eddie can handle that.
Steve gets the hiccups, and it occurs to Eddie that it would be really funny if he got steve to go around asking girls if he could kiss them to get rid of his hiccups.
and so what if it makes steve look a little foolish, it has to be the worst pick-up line ever, and steve strikes out and just goes back to Eddie’s trailer at the end of the night to smoke and watch movies? It’s not like it’s really hurting steve. Maybe it’s a little selfish. Whatever. It’s gonna be funny.
So Eddie tells steve kisses are a good way to get rid of hiccups.
“Really? I’ve never hic! heard of that,” steve says.
“Yea, man, think about it. Have you ever had hiccups while you’re making out?”
Steve looks deep in thought. “Huh. I guess not. hic! Ok.”
But to Eddie’s surprise, steve grabs his hand and pulls him into the bathroom and shuts the door.
“What-“
“So, you gonna help me out or what?”
Eddie stares, dumbstruck. “W-what?”
“Will you help me get rid of these hic! hiccups?”
“Will m-me?” Eddie stutters. “I? Will I?!”
steve smiles his most charming smile, the stupid one that makes Eddie’s heart slam in his chest and his knees feel shaky and is usually aimed at a pretty girl. Eddie is not a pretty girl. What the fuck is going on?!
Steve’s stupid gorgeous droopy hazel eyes flick down to Eddie’s lips as he backs Eddie up into the door, one hand resting beside Eddie’s head as he leans into his space. “Yep. You.”
Eddie swallows. Feels his head nod as his mind becomes a cacophony of white noise and Steve’s lips descend on his. It’s a soft, sweet press of silky skin against his sensitive lips that makes Eddie’s face and guts and toes tingle, like a cold misty rain leaving pinpricks of sensation all over this body.
Steve pulls back and stares into Eddie’s wide eyes. “Did that just happen?” Eddie breaths, his voice rough like he hasn’t used it in days.
“hic! Damn. Didn’t work. Still got ‘em.” Steve says, but he’s smiling.
“I lied! It was supposed to be a stupid prank, I’m sorry!” Eddie blurts, face heating with shame because he can’t stand the guilt anymore, he just made his straight friend kiss him, he can’t believe what an asshole he’s being, and-
To Eddie’s shock, steve laughs. “Yea, I know.”
oh. Oh, shit.
Eddie blinks. Feels himself relax minutely. He clears his throat. “I think you gotta do it with tongue.”
Steve grins and leans in again, cups one hand to Eddie’s jaw and the other at his hip, and Eddie’s arms go around Steve’s neck and he presses his whole body up against Steve, who presses him back into the door and covers his mouth with his own, his tongue swiping Eddie’s bottom lip and then the inside of his mouth and Eddie is melting into the floor because it’s the best thing he’s ever felt in his life.
The birthday gift Robin gets from her parents is that they’re gonna help her fund a three month solo trip to Paris. Steve thinks she should be delivering this news with much more excitement than she currently is.
“Okay, but you’re going, right?” he says, as she bites her nails for the third time. When she doesn’t reply, he lifts his eyes to the heavens, despairing. “Oh my god, are you kidding? Robin, you’ve wanted this for—”
“Years,” she confirms, so quietly. “I want—” She swallows. “I want it so badly, Steve.”
He pauses, drops their usual teasing schtick. “Okay,” he says, a little softer. “What’s going on?”
“It’s just…” She moves her hand away from her mouth, tugs on a hangnail. “What if—what if something… happens. And I’m not…” She gestures vaguely. “Not here.”
Steve slings an arm over her shoulder. “Rob,” he says, “nothing’s gonna happen.”
Robin nods. “I know, I know.”
But then she sighs, and Steve understands: it’s one thing to know something objectively, another thing to feel the certainty in your bones.
He has a wave of gratitude for Robin’s parents, for them knowing that she needs this, for letting her have a year out, maybe even two, without judgement. It’s something they all need, really, in different ways: some time to let the weight of everything settle, to catch their breath.
Steve’s honestly been relishing the mundanity of it all, the comfort of routine—easy days where the biggest ‘disaster’ is him being late for their opening shift at Family Video.
“Keith’s keeping your job open for you, right?” Steve asks, just in case that’s a sticking point.
Robin nods again, laughing. “Yeah, mom arranged that all before she even booked the flights. Well, I think she just basically told him that—”
“So it’s gonna be a super long vacation.” Steve gives her knee a reassuring little shake, before tickling the back of it. “Jesus, Robin, if you don’t go, I’ll go for you.”
Robin snorts and wiggles out of his grip. “Shut up.”
“And I’ll speak French so badly that I’ll just get banned for life, like, right outta the gate, it’ll be tragic—”
“I’ve got the picture, dingus,” she says, and she’s smiling—finally, finally there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes.
And that excitement only grows as her flight date gets closer, as she calls Steve the week before, begging him to be the one to take her to the airport, because, “My dad took one look at my suitcase and burst into tears, please Steve, the man can’t do this.”
And then Steve’s pulling up to her driveway, and she’s already waiting for him, perched on her suitcase. She’s wearing a cobalt blue beret, and Steve loves her so much he thinks his heart might burst with it.
For a while, it’s all grins and laughter, Steve giggling every time he edges out of the driveway, and Robin’s mom stops him, frantically waving, asking if Robin’s got everything, did you pack that other coat, honey?
Then it feels like time rushes forward—they’re at the airport, and Steve gets out of the car to fetch Robin’s case from the trunk, but she’s already got it, is already standing in the parking lot, eyes wide.
“What’s gonna happen now?” she whispers.
Steve’s heart clenches; the last time she’d asked that had been as they sped to the hospital, Robin gripping his hand so tightly as Eddie lay unconscious.
Steve puts both hands on her shoulders. “You’re gonna have the best time,” he says, deadly serious, “and then you’re gonna come back and tell me all about it.”
She laughs, right on the edge of becoming tearful. “O-okay.” She blinks several times.
“Don’t,” Steve says, faux-warningly, “or you’ll set me off, too.”
And it’s only partly a joke.
“Okay,” Robin says again, and then she’s hugging Steve tight, pressing a damp kiss to his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”
“God, me too. Every day.” Steve rocks her back and forth, makes sure her beret doesn’t get dislodged with the force of the hug.
When they break apart, Robin picks up her case—she pauses, then grins.
“Now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction…”
Steve chuckles. He spins her around so she’s facing the airport, then pats her on the back.
She starts walking.
Steve stays right where he is; he knows she’ll look back right at the last second—ah, there she goes. He shakes his head, laughs. Waves.
He drives back alone.
When he gets home, he barely has time to even think about it, because the kids have biked over after school, clamouring for him to order pizza from the moment he opens the front door, and Eddie’s shrugging apologetically with a grin, and it’s only later that Steve realises that the whole thing was probably coordinated beforehand.
And he’s fine, really, he’s absolutely fine until he steps into the hall to use the phone, and he unthinkingly orders the pizza him and Robin usually share: one half with pepperoni, the other half with mushrooms.
And then he has to finish the rest of the phone call with a lump in his throat, and when he hangs up, Eddie is watching him with a sad kind of smile.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“Don’t. Don’t be nice to me, goddamn it.” Steve shuts his eyes. “I was fine, I was fine.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie knocks their foreheads together gently. “I’ll miss her, too.”
And God, missing Robin does hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the joy Steve feels whenever he receives a letter from her. He laughs himself stupid the first time, because instead of just using sheets of paper, she’s sent multiple postcards wrapped in an elastic band, her handwriting all squished so she can fit everything in.
She writes like she talks, all rambling enthusiasm, and Steve cherishes every word.
He can tell she’s having so much fun. She enthuses about little cafés she’s found, a bookstore near Notre Dame; she spends multiple pages on art galleries, how she has the time to wander, to look at a painting again and again until the meaning reveals itself, it was like when I solved that ‘crossword’ in the mall, it suddenly just clicked, you know? I need you here next time, you’ll look at it from another angle, I wanna know what you think.
She sends Polaroids, too. There’s one of her in a white shirt with a trilby hat at a jaunty angle—Steve can tell she’s been in the sun, because there’s freckles all over the bridge of her nose. On the back of the photograph, she’s written Had a carefree kiss!
And Steve cries when he reads it, because he knows what it means: that Robin’s often spoken wistfully about how she’s never got to have that fleeting summer kind of love, where nothing is all that serious.
But she’s still so young, and life is finally light, and she gets to have it now.
Other photographs are sent to Eddie, with instructions that he should translate the French Robin’s written on them, à force de pratique, on y arrive, mon cher Édouard!
“I said literally once that French at school wasn’t, like, the worst,” Eddie says, pouting. “Didn’t realise that meant she was gonna torture me from across the world.” He frowns at a picture of Robin petting a grey cat, a bowl of food at its little paws. “And I tried translating whatever the fuck she’s written here, but I can’t work it out.”
“Not even a guess?” Steve says.
“I mean, yeah, but it sounds so stilted, man, I know it’s wrong. Like, who actually says where the silver cat feeds—you dick, stop laughing! What’s so funny?”
Two months pass, and Robin’s back soon, but not soon enough to catch Steve’s birthday. It’s not like he wants to have a huge party, anyway—he goes to Wayne and Eddie’s for dinner, and discovers Dustin leading a not-so successful ‘secretly bake a birthday cake,’ meeting at Max’s.
Everyone’s on their second slice of cake when the phone rings, and Steve knows instantly who it is from the way Eddie shouts, “Huh? What?”, like there’s a delay on the line. Then he beams and shouts, “Steve! Got a long distance call for you.”
Steve’s over in a flash.
“I promise I’ve got you something,” Robin says, slightly muffled—every so often a word will cut out, but Steve gets the gist. “I swear, I’m not awful, I was gonna post it, but then I had no idea how many stamps I’d need, and I didn’t wanna risk losing it forever to, like, the nightmare limbo of customs, so I thought when I come back, I can—”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, “you didn’t need to get me anything. This is the best present ever.”
“Oh, gross,” Robin says cheerfully. “You’re all sentimental in your old age. Happy Birthday, Steve.”
“Thanks,” Steve says, and the lump in his throat is back, but it’s not so bad; he can breathe through it. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And then there’s a sound that Steve at first thinks is just from the bad quality of the line, but then he realises it’s Robin trying to stifle a yawn; “Wait, Jesus, isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there? Go to bed!”
She doesn’t listen, of course—they keep chatting, everyone in the room wants a turn on the phone, Robin teasing Eddie relentlessly for his French pronunciation.
And as Steve ends the call, he finds that the hurt of missing her has faded away into something else—knowing that there’ll be comings and goings in their lives all the time, adventures they’ll share and adventures they won’t. But they’ll always, always find their way back to one another.
Steve sets the phone into its cradle, pictures Robin doing the very same so many miles away.
Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine, you and me, Steve thinks, and feels the certainty of it right in his bones.
no but the homoerotic subtext of the jacket scene. like, on paper it’s a third party cutting the rekindling tension between steve and nancy, eddie throws the jacket and a quippy one liner because wow guys we have the world to save keep it in your pants. but it’s the way eddie isn’t smiling, the way his toss knocks steve off balance, the way his joke-for your modesty-is hard and brittle between his teeth. like he’s upset, like he’s jealous. and he does it again, watches nancy and steve dance around each other in the trailer portal, rolls his eyes with an alright, i guess i’ll go. and on paper, maybe he’s just jealous of steve who’s always got wildly pretty girls hanging onto him even after peaking in high school while he’s still the freak being hunted for crimes he didn’t commit but.
but he doesn’t talk to nancy, doesn’t say much more than two words to her before or after the jacket scene. barely even looks at her. no, no he makes it a point to compliment steve about the bats, to reach out and touch steve at nancy’s house, to tease steve in the van. steve harrington, the douchebag ex-jock from high school he was sure was going nowhere. harrington who drives eddie’s dnd kids around, who’s best friends with robin buckley–a girl he knows doesn’t quite live up to what she puts on paper–and who jumps in the lake headfirst. steve, who despite all odds and his own personal wishes, is someone eddie likes.
but. it doesn’t matter that steve is cool now, that he laughs at his dumb joke or that when eddie clutches his arm steve turns to him and reaches back. he knows his role in the story. eddie is the fool, the freak, the villain of the week. no matter what happens, it’s not going to end well.
on paper, eddie throws him is jacket to be funny, to get them moving. under that–the jacket gets thrown, the joke falls flat because he can’t believe he’s got a crush on a jock. because he both hopes seeing steve play dress up will burst that bubble and wants steve to want his jacket. because he’s jealous steve wants nancy and that nancy is the one who’s going to get to keep him.
Eddie gets Steve’s pickles when they go out to eat. Steve gets Eddie’s tomatoes. The transaction is seamless; it requires no words
Most of Eddie’s t-shirts have done time as sleep shirts for Steve. Eddie steals Steve’s hoodies without remorse. Neither of them remember which pair of sweatpants originally belonged to who at this point
No one bothers saving them more than one seat at any kind of movie night or other get-together; Eddie spends more time sitting on Steve than on the couch
They become an interchangeable taxi service at some point. The kids will say they’re getting a ride from eddiensteve, but it’s anyone’s guess if it’s going to be Steve’s beamer or Eddie’s van that rolls up (the only real difference is if they have to listen to Steve complaining about providing rides and then asking how their activities are going, or if they have to listen to Eddie’s music at deafening volume)
It feels so easy, the way their lives mesh, when they finally get together, and maybe it isn’t strictly healthy, but anyone who wants to throw around the word “codependent” must first survive at least one Upside Down Event. In any case, no one else really seems to mind–
“Y’know, when you two got together, I thought it would be weird. Like seeing your two older brothers make out,” Dustin mentions one day.
Steve’s face screws up in disgust. “Ew. Henderson–”
“But,” Dustin cuts in, “I’m actually kind of relieved.”
“I’ll bite,” Eddie drawls. “Pray tell: why?”
“Because you’re not going to make me pick a favorite anymore. You’ve basically melded into the same person.”
There is a beat of surprised silence before Steve and Eddie, almost simultaneously, burst out with “Oh my god, no we haven’t.” – “We have not.”
There is another beat of silence in which the two of them blink at each other as a grin spreads across Dustin’s face.
“See?” Steve finally says, recovering and looking at Dustin but pointing towards Eddie. “The way we said that was completely different.”
“Totally different,” Eddie agrees with a nod of his head.
“And we were never going to make you pick a favorite. What the hell, man?”
“What do you take us for, recently divorced parents?”
“That would’ve been petty.”
“Juvenile, even.”
“Exactly!”
Eddie shakes his head, clucking his tongue. “Where do you get these ideas, Henderson?”
Dustin, who has been watching their exchange like a tennis match, shakes his head right back. “It’s like you have two mouths but only one brain.”
"it's a vhs night, huh?" eddie asks as he comes out of the kitchen, two mugs of decaf coffee in one hand, a box of oreos in the other. steve's on his knees in front of the tv with tapes scattered around him, a mixture of home movies and mashed up concert recordings and episodes of star trek that are bound to get recorded over eventually. he turns around as his husband enters the living room and opens his mouth for a cookie that eddie happily feeds him.
"yeah, why not?" he gives eddie a half smile that makes the crows feet around his eyes crinkle even more. "just feeling nostalgic, i guess."
eddie hums and sits on his end of the couch before pulling one foot up to cross over his knee. he takes a sip of the bitter black coffee and dunks an oreo in to soften it up then pops it into his mouth. steve finally settles on a video and rewinds it to the start, curling up on his side of the cushions with his feet tucked under eddie's thigh. a hand finds its way around his ankle and a thumb strokes at the soft skin it can find. gentle, comforting, home.
the grainy picture on the screen straightens out and the sound clicks on along with it. the greens of the grass are a little faded and the blue of the sky is dull but it's still clear enough to make out steve on the swings at the park down the road from loch nora. steve's mom is behind the camera yelling for him to pump your legs, good job stevie, there you go, wow you're going so high and the grin on the boy's face is a wide as the sky above him.
"you were so cute, what happened?" eddie murmurs with a chuckle causing steve to slap at the thigh currently warming his feet.
"i'm still cute, thank you very much." steve grumbles out his response which makes eddie chuckle again, leaning over with a groan to smash a kiss to his cheek.
there's little voices echoing in the background as steve continues to swing and the video switches suddenly to him on a red check blanket eating a sandwich. he has jelly on his cheek in the same place that eddie had placed a kiss not a minute earlier and it has them both cooing like the old men they are.
but then there's a flash of something in the background. a little kid runs by followed by what's presumably his mother and it distracts little steve, who turns on his blanket to watch the two running.
"is that...?" steve starts, turning to eddie who's staring at the screen with rapt attention. the gasp he gets in return is the only answer he could possibly need. the hand around his ankle gets a little tighter and he watches as a watery smile spreads across eddie's face, salt-and-pepper beard crinkling up on his cheeks.
"that's me, that's-" he breathes out, curling in on himself slightly to peer closer at the video. in the video, steve's still staring at the little boy in the park getting picked up by his mom and being thrown in the air. his little giggles break through the speakers as his mom catches him, cradling him to her chest as she runs off screen. they come back into frame a few seconds later and crash side-by-side onto the grass. their arms start pointing at the sky like they're finding shapes in the clouds and eddie inhales sharply. "-that's my mom."
steve reaches down and clasps his hand around eddie's where it's still on his bony ankle, trailing his fingers over his husband's. eddie looks up and tosses a bewildered grin at steve who catches it easily and returns it with one of his own. as if they have magnets stored in their hearts from where the universe made them for each other, the two move closer to one another instinctually until they have arms around waists and fingers tangled together and heads on shoulders.
they sit in silence for the next few minutes, reliving a time when they were still boys with their mothers, happy and loved, not even knowing their soulmate was right next to them.
Kitty Rose has entered the building @kittyr0se - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
