I just wanted to put down somethings for this blog for people's information!
These are stories that I have found either through the steddie tag, my own dashboard, and even sometimes from when my For You isn't a graveyard of the people I follow's recent posts. So this is all steddie, you won't find other fandoms here.
I quick reblog from my phone, so there aren't any tags. Sorry about that. I recommend reading the tags and notes on the stories themselves before diving in.
On the off chance I do tag it will be #ladykailithasrecs
There will be some NSFT stuff here, but the stories I reblog tend to warn for that. So just a head's up.
You can always send me asks of stuff you think I should reblog and if I like it well enough, I'll reblog.
I hope this brings some much needed attention to some really great writers in our fandom. Because I love them all.
rated: E | wc: 4.714 | tags: Established Relationship, Light Angst, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Boys In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Found Family, Self-Doubt, Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff | complete fic on ao3
Ever since moving into his own place, Eddie has found a new appreciation for spending his Sunday mornings at the trailer with Wayne.
It always feels like coming home, when he's hit with the familiar scent of coffee and cigarettes lingering in the small but cosy space he shared with his uncle for so many years.
And while so much in his life has changed – in all the good ways he'd never dared to dream of – it's still nice to know he has a place to come back to, to reset and recalibrate his inner compass whenever he feels a little lost.
Usually, Steve would be here with him. Would catch up on the latest sports news with Wayne while Eddie gets busy making breakfast (and secretly checking the trailer for needed repairs so he can offer his help because the old stubborn man would never actively ask for it), and they'd stay until late afternoon, watching some old show re-runs, just enjoying each other’s company.
It's just the two Munson men today, not because Steve didn't want to come but he wasn't feeling well. So Eddie bribed him into staying in bed to rest with the promise to bring back a piece of Wayne's homemade apple pie as a treat, because he knows how much Steve likes it (and because Wayne knows it, too, there is already a plate ready and waiting to be taken back to him).
The trailer is always a little bit quieter when Steve’s not around. Not because they don't have anything to say to each other; less talk never meant a lack of interest in each other’s lives. It’s just how Eddie and Wayne have always been, both happy to coexist while drifting in their own worlds side by side.
Wayne is reading the newspaper and Eddie watches him absentmindedly while chomping down another pancake, trying not to make too much of a mess with the syrup dripping everywhere.
Sometimes Eddie forgets how much time has passed since he first showed up on the trailer’s doorstep, how much he’s grown since then. But as he takes in Wayne’s features, he finds a reminder in the new lines he discovers on his uncle’s face, little signs of age that make his heart grow and sink at the same time.
It hits him then, out of nowhere, how much of his life Wayne has given up for Eddie. To raise him and help him become the man he is today. How much love he poured into his upbringing, despite all the trouble he put him through.
He’s more than just his uncle; he’s a friend, a father figure, the only worthy connection tying him to the Munson name. And for all the struggles Eddie’s early childhood entailed, he couldn’t have been luckier than to end up right here.
Wayne was always accepting of all of his choices, even the ones he didn’t condone or understand. Always making sure Eddie knew he’d have his back no matter what.
Even when Steve eventually came into the picture and Eddie was sure this would be where he’d draw the line and send him to hell, Wayne once again proved there was nothing in this world that could change his unconditional love for him.
Thinking back on it now, Eddie can’t even remember why he was so scared to introduce Steve as his boyfriend. Why he ever doubted that his uncle would do anything other but embrace the fact that Steve was now part of their unconventional little family. Treating him like a son, just like Eddie, like it was the easiest thing to do.
And it makes him wonder, how a man who has so much love to give never ended up with a family of his own.
"Can I ask you something?”
Wayne looks up from his paper with raised brows, waiting for Eddie to continue.
“Did you ever regret not having kids?"
Wayne takes a long sip from his mug before he answers, "What do ya mean? I got you, son."
Eddie immediately chokes up, swallows roughly to regain his composure. It never not makes him emotional whenever he’s reminded that Wayne sees in him more than just a life-long burden, a blood relative that got dropped on his door step for him to take care of. Wayne always called him his own. Made him feel like it, too. But that’s not what this is about, not the point of his question.
"That’s- not what I mean. Did you never, like, think about getting married? You know, find a wife, have a family, all that stuff."
Wayne sets down his mug and thinks for a moment.
"Sure. I thought about it once or twice. Had a girl once, when I was younger, thought maybe she would be the one. But I guess it just didn’t happen. And then my priorities changed.”
Meaning he took up guardianship for Eddie. Put all his spare time and energy into raising a traumatized boy instead of following his own dreams.
“Don’t you give me that look, boy. I chose to take you in and I haven’t had a single moment of regret for doing it.”
Eddie’s throat feels tight, nose and eyes burning with tears he refuses to spill.
“But if you hadn’t, do you think your life would be... different?”
He doesn’t say better because he knows Wayne wouldn’t tolerate him even thinking that.
“Who’s to say? I’ll never know and I don’t care. I’m happy with my life as it is. I have you. And Steve. You're my family, that's enough."
Eddie can feel tears trickling down his face, tries his best to subtly wipe his eyes before Wayne sees it, but of course he notices it.
"Hey now. Where's all that coming from? Is this about you and Steve?”
He doesn’t know why he’s even surprised that his uncle instantly came to the right conclusion despite not having mentioned Steve’s name once. It’s not like he could ever hide anything from him; Wayne always knew what went on in his head.
“It’s- nothing,” Eddie lies but knows the moment he says it, that there is no use to deny it. Wayne would never push but one stern look from his otherwise gentle eyes is enough to make Eddie crumble.
“It’s just- One of Steve's colleagues from work recently became a dad and it's all he's been talking about."
It was one of the things Eddie often joked about after his secret was finally out. Telling Wayne he’d save him from becoming a grandpa, that he wouldn’t have to worry about Eddie accidentally getting Steve pregnant and having to take care of another abandoned child so he wouldn’t lose any more hair. Wayne did not appreciate his dark sense of humour, just rolled his eyes and told him to shut it but that never stopped Eddie from bringing it up.
But lately, the same subject has been haunting Eddie every waking hour of the day and in his sleep.
“I see,” Wayne says and rubs his scruffy chin in thought. “So now you’re worried Steve feels like he’s missing out, is that it?”
Eddie wishes he could tell himself that he’s just jumping to conclusions. That it’s not as deep as he makes it. But he knows how much Steve loves kids.
They have a whole gaggle of now young adults to prove how good he is with kids, too, because the ones he’d been babysitting as a teen still worship him like he’s their own personal hero. Still regularly call and visit and ask him for advice and guidance because they know he’s always there for them.
And in the past, Eddie thought that this might be enough to compensate for something they’ll never get to experience first-hand. That the family bond they have with all these wonderful people around them would be all they need to make their life complete. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe it isn’t enough.
"Did your boy ever say he wants kids?"
He did, once. But that was long before they started dating, back when they were just friends and Steve was still hung up on a past relationship with a girl he thought he’d marry one day, and have kids with, and be the good version of a father both of theirs never lived up to be.
They were still so young then, foolishly caught in the illusion that they’d had their future paths all figured out, unaware of the crossroad waiting for them down the line, offering a choice they hadn’t yet considered optional.
And then, suddenly and unplanned, friends became lovers, and everything changed. And maybe it was selfish of Eddie to think all these ideas Steve had of a perfect life would simply change with him. That falling in love with another guy automatically came with the acceptance that some things just wouldn’t be in the cards anymore.
But much like Wayne chose not to get married and start a family, Steve does have a choice. And it kills Eddie inside to think that maybe he wasn’t the right one. That maybe Steve will wake up one day and realise he wasted years on something that leaves him unfulfilled. He’s not bound to the circumstances he’s in, so what if-
“What if he does? Maybe not right now but what if he changes his mind and realises he wants something he can’t have? Not with me.”
Wayne gets up and rounds the table, makes a come here motion with his hands and pulls Eddie into his arms the moment he stands. He doesn’t comment on the sob Eddie can’t hold back any longer, just holds him tight.
“You listen to me, Eddie. If I know anything, then it’s that Steve loves you. I could see it in his eyes the first time I met him and I still see it now, every time I see you together. The way he looks at you? Like you’ve hung the fucking moon. And I’m sure, if there’s ever anything missing in his life, he’ll move heaven and hell to make it right, together with you.”
Eddie can probably count on one hand the times he’s allowed himself to cry in front of Wayne, and that was only shortly after his old life had fallen apart. But right in this moment, he needs it more than ever. Feels like a kid again, despite his 26 years of age, as he buries himself deeper into his uncle’s embrace and lets his soothing words sink in.
Wayne is right.
Whatever it is, whatever problems they face, Steve would always try to make it work, proved it time and again in the seven years of their relationship and even before.
“But you gotta talk to him. Can’t just keep it to yourself and hope it all goes away. We both know it’ll eat you up and then you’ll just end up doing something stupid.”
Eddie sniffs but huffs a laugh, remembers that one time Wayne had to give him a buzz cut as a kid, because he acted on impulse when he couldn’t take the teasing anymore from the boys in his class that kept calling him ‘an ugly girl’ for having long, wavy hair. Took the kitchen scissors and cut it so badly, shaving it all off was the only way it could be saved.
It wasn’t the first time he’d let his suppressed feelings boil up and explode, not the last time either, but he’s older now, maybe even a little bit wiser, knows there’s no shame in asking for help if he can’t do it alone.
“Thanks, Wayne,” Eddie mumbles against the old man’s shoulder, gives his uncle one last squeeze before he’s ready to let go again.
Eddie had promised that it would only be a last resort. They weren't exactly overflowing with an abundance of good parents around them as examples, and frankly, Eddie wasn't sure he counted her among them. Still, they'd never tried to keep a very tiny human being alive, and he'd pinned her number to the corkboard with a sigh. Teenagers, he told Steve repeatedly, were not the same as infants. And although he understood arguments that their teenagers were a special kind of stupid, who had actually been very hard to keep alive, Eddie maintained they should have a backup plan available in case something got tricky when the baby arrived. He was, after all, only three months old. They might need help.
And here they were. At last resort. And earlier than he'd expected.
He sighed and dialed, hoping that Steve wouldn't hear the phone from the other room where he was in the rocking chair beside the crib.
"Help," he said.
"I'll be there in six minutes."
When Joyce arrived, she shoved a glass casserole dish into his hands and immediately went to the kitchen to wash her hands. She looked at Eddie expectantly.
"He won't sleep," Eddie said simply.
She smiled. "Well, babies not sleeping is—"
"No. The baby sleeps fine. It's Steve. Steve won't sleep."
Confusingly, Joyce smiled wider and patted him on the shoulder. "Ah," she said. "The firstborn problem. Where is he?"
"Nursery," Eddie sighed.
"On it. Why don't you go grab a shower?"
The suggestion was gentle, but Eddie still chuckled. He definitely needed that, even he could admit it. When he reemerged from the bathroom in a waft of cinnamon-scented soap, he found Steve, sprawled fully clothed on top of the duvet.
"Joyce said she'll watch him," Steve murmured, exhausted.
Eddie frowned. He moved to Steve and started pulling layers of clothing off of him. He offered Steve the soft grey tee he preferred to sleep in, but let him keep his boxers. It felt like more work than it was worth to get him into different pants. He was disappointed; he'd been hoping that Joyce would offer a better solution than someone else pointlessly watching the baby, but. Still. Sleep was sleep.
They both fell asleep immediately; Eddie dreamed of a unicorn that fed off the native honeysuckle in their yard. Just as the Protect Unicorns Society was telling him the house was going to be taken over by the government, Eddie awoke to a sharp cry, followed by the sound of Steve bolting out of bed.
Eddie followed at a more sedate pace, curious and also alarmed by Steve's movement. In the nursery, Joyce stood in the middle of the room, holding the baby, a bottle of formula in one hand as she rocked.
"Oh, look at that. Less than two minutes and you're both here," she teased with a grin. "It's almost like you're going to hear your child no matter how tired you are. Eddie, I declare you on shift. Steve, go back to bed. He's safe. He's got two great dads. Shifts, boys. You'll survive this."
Eddie took the baby and smiled at Steve. Joyce put both her hands on Steve's shoulders and squeezed.
"It's hard. It's scary. It never gets less hard or less scary," she said gently. "But you've got this. Don't make Eddie call me again. He hated it."
Steve looked at Eddie over Joyce's head and gave him a small smile at the sight of the baby, curled into his chest, quietly calming down. She patted him once more and left.
"We've got this?" Steve asked quietly.
Eddie grinned. "We've got this.”
He shifted the baby to a more comfortable position. The tiny weight in his arms felt both impossibly fragile and remarkably sturdy. He watched Steve's shoulders drop, the tension visibly draining away.
"Joyce is right about shifts, you know," Eddie continued, keeping his voice low and soothing as much for Steve as for the baby.
Steve ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "But you have that commission due next week. You need sleep, too."
"Hey, I've pulled all-nighters for way less important reasons." Eddie smiled, carefully settling into the rocking chair. "Remember when I stayed up three nights straight to finish that D&D campaign for the kids?"
"That was different. This is…" Steve gestured vaguely at the baby, who had started to drift off again, tiny fingers curling around Eddie's shirt.
"This is everything," Eddie finished for him. “This is everything."
Steve’s trying to woo a girl from his math class. Her locker’s next to Eddie’s, and Steve’s running late. He shoves a mix tape through the slats reading “For Amy You said you liked The Police, so. -Steve”
Problem He can’t read locker numbers for shit. It’s Eddie’s locker.
Eddie gets home, with a tape full of soft rock, Journey, and a painfully earnest voice memo “Hey Amy, it’s Steve. I, uh, thought of you when I heard track 2. Call me?”
Eddie’s so secondhand embarrassed he nearly dies. Then he laughs for 10 minutes straight. Then he gets annoyed at his choice of “music.”
So he records his own tape. Labeled “For Steve Since you clearly need help. -E”
Tracklist Sabbath, Maiden, Misfits, and Eddie going “Track 2, Harrington? Really? This is what we’re doing? Jesus.”
He leaves it in Steve’s locker. Steve listens to it on his way to pick up Amy.
june prompt: pride | wc: 481 | rated: G | tags: eddie reflects on past mistakes and lessons learned, post vecna - everybody lives, established relationship | also on ao3
If Eddie had to name his own most toxic trait, it would have to be the false sense of pride he's worn like an armour for years. This performative act of freakish superiority that carried him over the table tops of the high school cafeteria, presenting his personal agenda as the only valuable truth in condemnation of society's conformity doctrine.
The pride of being a herder to his flock of lost sheep, a leader to all those young, susceptible minds that would've followed him blindly because they believed in him to have it all figured out. Believed that he'd always look out for them, watching over them from high up the pedestal he'd built on the lies he kept telling himself.
A pride that nearly cost him everything. First his freedom when he ran instead of asking for help, then again when he didn't run and almost paid with his life for it, overconfidently ignoring his limits and fears when he should've accepted his weakness.
He's learned his lessons, most of them unwillingly, has the physical and emotional scars to remind him whenever he threatens to slip back into old patterns.
He still finds it hard sometimes not to let his pride get in the way of his happiness, is still learning to accept these new truths life taught him.
You can be a cog in a machine and still fight for what's right; you don’t have to do it alone.
People can enjoy stupid ball games and be a nerd at the same time.
Heroism isn't defined by strength or status or age, it's what you do when push comes to shove.
Friendship comes in all shapes and colours and sizes. From the bossy little girl that has more courage in her little finger than any soldier wielding a gun. Over the curly haired teen whose heart is even bigger than his brains. Right to the guy Eddie always wanted to hate on principle but fell hard and fast for once he allowed himself to really get to know him.
"What are you thinking about?" Steve's voice filters through Eddie's thoughts, pulling him back from wherever he drifted off to.
"Hm? Oh, um, just- how lucky I am."
It's not the whole truth but it’s part of it. Because Eddie is lucky to have been found by this group of mismatched characters he couldn't imagine his life without now. Especially the man in his arms, who keeps him grounded while simultaneously lifting him up to the greatest heights.
"Because you have me?" Steve teases, smiling against Eddie's lips when he kisses him.
"Because you make me a better person," Eddie agrees and pulls Steve back against his chest, letting his fingers glide over bed-warm skin.
"You make me a better person, too," Steve whispers back, sleepy and content, and it makes Eddie's chest swell.
Modern AU where Steve accompanies Robin to Pride, convincing himself he's going as an ally. Then, he catches Eddie's eye, and suddenly his little existential crisis from last week comes flooding back. Maybe he's not just there as an ally after all...
He has another little existential crisis and then tells Robin, “I think I'm bisexual,” and Robin is like, “Uh??? yeah…” and Steve is like, “What do you mean, ‘uh??? yeah...’???”. It's so obvious; Robin has noticed the way Steve looks at guys for weeks (months). Besides, he keeps glancing at Eddie (and Eddie looks back at him).
I like the idea of steddie trying on each other's clothes as a fun surprise or a sexy thing and them being like, "ugh, ew. No."
Steve shows up to band practice in black skinny jeans, eye liner, a black leather jacket, and one of Eddie's band shirts. Eddie's eyes go huge but not in a good way. He can't help the way his nose scrunches up in distaste. "Please go put on a polo and a puffer jacket this is not my boyfriend."
Eddie tries to dress nicely for some event, maybe a work thing for Steve, but instead of doing it his own way, he just raids Steve's closet. He's wearing a white button up under a beige sweater, light wash jeans, and his hair in a slick bun. Steve immediately pulls a face like he wants to be sick and makes Eddie at least take off the sweater and undo some buttons so at least he can roll up the sleeves and show off his tattoos.
They love each other exactly as they are and don't want the other to change for them at all.
They both get horny if the other borrows Robin's clothes, though, which is why they are both banned from her closet.
Steve thinks friends are like the embers that float up from a firepit. Tiny bright specks against the dark, beautiful and a little scary. They drift for a while, and then they start falling, straight toward him, and that’s when his stomach knots up.
He’s been burned before. That’s what it feels like, anyway. People get close, closer, closest, all that light right in front of his face—and then they’re gone. The light fizzles out. And he’s in the dark again. So when an ember starts dropping into his orbit now, his whole body tenses on instinct. He doesn’t even know if he’s afraid of getting burned or afraid of watching it go out when it finally reaches him.
Eddie lands softer than anyone he’s ever met. One day he’s just this bright thing across a cafeteria, across a trailer park, across a field full of kids. Then he’s on Steve’s couch. In his kitchen. In his passenger seat. On the floor of his bedroom, laughing at his own joke. Right up against Steve’s skin.
It should burn. This ember on his skin. Steve waits for it to. His brain keeps insisting, any second now, this is going to hurt. He keeps his shoulders up around his ears, keeps a little distance tucked inside his chest, like that’ll make it easier when Eddie fizzles.
But it doesn’t hurt. He looks at the ember, bright against his skin, and it doesn’t hurt and it doesn’t dim.
It just…glows. It’s warm where Eddie presses up against his life, not scalding. It’s the kind of heat you lean into without meaning to. A hand on his shoulder. A knee against his on the couch. A voice at his side going, ‘Hey, you awake?’
Sometimes, when it’s late and they’re the only ones left by the dying fire in the Harrington backyard, Steve looks down and realizes he’s stopped bracing. Eddie’s light is right there on his skin and he isn’t flinching; he’s just admiring and holding his breath like he’s afraid to accidentally blow it out.
The thing is, embers always go out. Steve knows that. He can feel that fear like a ghost burn under the surface, even while he’s sitting there, bathed in Eddie’s warmth. He doesn’t know how to believe in an ember that might stay.
Eddie doesn’t know any of that. He just knows that every time Steve looks up, Eddie will still be there—falling closer, landing softer, refusing to drift away.
for @corrodedcoffinfest million words celebration!
also on ao3
rated t | 2248 words | no cw | tags: established steddie, band breakup, birthday party, marriage proposal, grieving a loss of a future that never was so the future that was meant to be could exist and other such dramatics
🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻
There’s a million reasons that things didn’t work out for them. They argued about everything, had no money, their van broke down too much, and they never quite understood what sound they wanted as a group to name a few.
But they wanted it. God, did they want it.
Wanting it wasn’t enough.
Eddie always thought if they wanted it bad enough, and worked hard enough, they’d get there. Turns out, you need a lot more luck and hope. And talent. That, too.
He’s not an idiot, or oblivious. He knows they’re good for Hawkins, maybe even Indiana. But they aren’t “go to California on a dream” good. They probably never will be.
And now they won’t.
Steve wraps his arms around him from behind, kissing his neck and then his shoulder, resting his nose against his pulse.
“You should come to bed, babe,” he whispers.
He’s right. He’s barely slept for days, and getting into bed and cuddling up to Steve will help his morose mood. It’s just that he’s twitching to grab his guitar and write something. He’s dying to get in his van and drive to Gareth’s house a mile up the road and come up with a new plan that’s doomed to fail. It’s a habit now, one that’s going to take a while to break now that they aren’t a band anymore. Not officially, anyway.
“Eddie? You okay?” Steve asks, voice louder now, laced with concern. He picks his head up, but Eddie quickly reaches back to tug him back into place.
“Don’t let go,” Eddie tells him. “Stay.”
And because Steve is an angel, and Eddie doesn’t deserve him, he does. He doesn’t ask any questions or try to say anything to make him feel better. He doesn’t push him towards the bed to try to make him sleep. He just holds him.
Eventually, Eddie turns in his arms and cups his face, kissing the corner of his mouth and giving him a small smile.
“Can I play you something?” Eddie asks.
Steve grins. “Always.”
He plays for a while. Too long, going off the yawns Steve tries to hide after a few songs. He’s slowly sinking down into the bed while Eddie strums and hums, occasionally pausing to write in his notebook.
Eddie plays until Steve’s asleep, light snores coming from where he has his face buried in the pillow. When he looks up, he finally notices Steve wearing his cropped Corroded Coffin shirt.
It makes him cry. He’s quiet about it, not wanting to wake Steve and see that worried look on his face again.
He wishes things turned out better for them. He wishes that Steve was visiting him on tour instead of sleeping in a trailer he promised he’d never come back to. He wishes he could say he accomplished what he set out to do, just one time.
—
He writes songs often, but the inspiration isn’t there. It’s harder without Gareth banging on his drums, trying to find any beat that works with the melody Eddie has in his head. They could try Gareth coming up with a beat first, but that’s just not how they do things.
How they did things.
Eddie looks around the record shop. He doesn’t mind this job. The owner’s pretty cool, knows a lot about every genre of music. He plays guitar and bass, too. Sometimes on payroll days, he sets aside some time to jam with Eddie after they lock up.
It’s fun as far as minimum wage, unskilled labor goes.
Jeff comes by every Friday when he’s done with his classes, flips through the new releases, even if he doesn’t like the artists. He just likes shooting the shit with Eddie. They’ve always been like that. Even when they argued about band stuff, they’d find common ground with something else.
Gareth practically lives at the trailer on Sundays, a desperate attempt to escape his own house. His grandparents visit every Sunday and turn it into a miserable place. Eddie doesn’t mind. Steve gives them space for hours before he usually yells for them to come eat. He always gives Gareth a long hug before he leaves, like he knows that Gareth’s grieving, too.
Frankie mostly makes Eddie come to him, but he doesn’t mind. He knows it’s because he had a falling out with his parents and doesn’t want to step foot back in Hawkins if he can help it. He’ll go wherever he has to to see his friend.
But it’s tough not getting together anymore. He wishes they could all just hang out, not as a band, without the pressure, without the commitment. He wants them to be friends again, real friends.
He just doesn’t know how to make that happen.
—
“Cake is in the oven. Wayne will be here in ten to help me set up the tables and chairs. Robin’s got beer. Don’t ask me how,” Steve shakes his head as he runs down his checklist for Eddie’s birthday party. “Dustin might be late. Said he’s bringing his girlfriend and she takes forever to do her hair.”
“Sounds familiar,” Eddie teases, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing his neck. “You want any help?”
“It’s your birthday, you’re not allowed to help.” Steve turns to kiss his cheek. “You should go get changed, though. Pretty sure Gareth said he was coming early to avoid his grandma asking if he’d found a wife yet.”
“But he doesn’t even have to lie anymore!” Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. You wanna help me?”
“You don’t need my help to get dressed,” Steve rolls his eyes.
“But I could use help with…other things…” Eddie wiggles his brows and winks. “You said for my birthday we could-“
“I know what I said. I meant after your party,” Steve’s face is bright red as he looks back down at his list. “Plus, I’m not wearing that under these clothes. I’ve got too much to do still.”
Eddie smacks a kiss to his lips and rushes off to get ready for his party.
Everyone’s coming.
Even Frankie.
It’s not the first time they’ve all been together since the band broke up, but it’s the first time it’s happening under Eddie’s roof. It feels like there’s more potential for something to go wrong here.
It’s the biggest party he’s ever had for himself, but 30 is a big number according to everyone who cares about him. There’s a cake that Steve made sitting on the table surrounded by cards and gifts from everyone who loves him.
Jeff, Gareth, and Frankie are all standing together on the porch. They’re not arguing as far as Eddie can tell.
He joins them hoping it stays that way.
“There’s the birthday guy!” Jeff slaps his shoulder, nearly spilling the soda in his cup when he does. “Heard we’re cutting the cake in a few minutes.”
“Yeah, Steve’s got a pretty strict schedule for that apparently,” Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. He’s never been much for a schedule, but it makes Steve happy and he’s a big fan of that. “Enjoying the party? Need anything?”
Gareth snorts. “It’s your party. We don’t need you to take care of us.”
“I know, but-“ Eddie freezes. He swallows back the sudden lump in his throat.
The final thing, the one thing out of the millions of things that ruined their band, was no doubt that Eddie could be a little overbearing and overprotective about them. He wanted things to work so badly. He pushed on things he shouldn’t have because he thought it was best for all of them. He turned down things that the others wanted to do because he thought it wouldn’t be right for their sound. He fought with Frankie to protect Gareth, he fought with Gareth to protect Jeff. He fought with Steve to protect all of them.
In the end, he tried to be too in control.
Happens to all the greats, right? It’s just not a good story when you aren’t great first.
“I know.” He says again. He gives them a smile before he rushes off to find Steve. They don’t stop him. He’s sure his realization was written all over his face.
When he finds Steve, he’s pacing the kitchen floor, Wayne trying to calm him down about something quietly. It’s a bit unnerving for a birthday party, especially when everyone’s outside.
“Steve?”
Steve’s head snaps up and over to Eddie, eyes widening comically. Wayne mumbles something about idiots and walks out the back door to rejoin the party.
“Hey. Everything okay? Cake in a few minutes,” Steve says, plastering on a fake smile. Eddie steps closer, watching the way Steve’s hands are shaking as he tries to shove them in his pockets.
“I’m good. Are you okay?” Eddie cups the side of his neck, searching his face for any other clues about what could possibly be wrong. Could he be sick? He mentioned a headache yesterday, but he seemed fine this morning.
“I’m good! I promise,” Steve reaches up to wrap his fingers around his wrist, smile changing to something more comforting and real. “Are you happy?”
The question isn’t entirely unusual, but it still makes Eddie worry again.
“Of course I am. You brought everyone I love together and made my favorite cake. And we’ve got naked plans tomorrow. How could I not be?” Eddie tries to push his worry away as Steve leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth.
It’s probably nothing. Steve’s a bit worried that the weather won’t hold up for them and he doesn’t want everyone in the house, so maybe that’s what he’s so riled up about. Wayne was probably just offering to help bring stuff inside if the storms start earlier than they’re supposed to.
“Good. That’s all I want,” Steve kisses him again before he leads Eddie back outside.
He brings him over to the cake and yells for everyone to come sing. He didn’t think people did that for adults, but he goes along with it because it’s entertaining watching a bunch of mostly tone deaf adults try to sing together. He’s beaming by the end, almost forgetting he needs to blow out the candles until Steve nudges his arm.
When he blows them out and turns, Steve’s not there.
Well, he is there.
He’s just not standing up.
He’s on one knee, holding a very simple silver band. Everyone around them is quiet.
“I knew you weren’t just throwing a birthday party!” Eddie laughs, leaning down to tug Steve up off his knee. It’s his bad knee, because he’s an idiot. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Let me say this.”
Eddie grins at him. “Carry on.”
“I know life’s been different than what you wanted. You hoped to be the next big rock star and it didn’t work out. You didn’t wanna stay in Hawkins. You probably didn’t even think you’d end up with me, but here we are,” everyone laughs as Steve smirks. “I think we’ve got a pretty great thing going here. Even when it’s not perfect, and when we still hope for more, we’re together. That’s enough for me. And I’m hoping that maybe that’ll be enough for you, too. We can’t file the papers to make it legal, but Wayne’s already got a speech ready for us to get married right here in this backyard someday if you say yes.”
Eddie wipes a stray tear from his cheek. “You have to ask me first.”
“What?” Steve’s brows raise before he realizes. “Oh. Right. Eddie, will you please spend forever with me? Wherever that may lead us?”
“Yes. Of course I will. I’d follow you anywhere.”
Everyone cheers. They kiss. It’s like a movie if movies ever showed the kind of love they have.
“Best birthday ever?” Gareth claps him on the back. His girlfriend is standing off to the side. She looks like she was crying. “Guess that puts more pressure on me, huh?”
“Guess so. Surprised you needed any,” Eddie jokes, turning to give him a hug. “Surprised she’s waited this long.”
“I’ve got a way with my hands, what can I say?”
Jeff playfully shoves him and fake gags. “Sure you do. Congrats, Eddie. Steve’s been stressed about this for months.”
Eddie turns to see Wayne hugging Steve close, patting his back.
“He should’ve known I’d say yes,” Eddie smiles fondly as he turns back to them.
“He’s just worried about tying you down for real,” Frankie says as he steps closer. “You’ve never been much for staying in one spot forever.”
“I don’t mind if it’s with him,” Eddie admits. He’s not even lying.
Saying yes doesn’t really change anything for them. They’ll wear rings, have a little ceremony in their backyard, maybe they’ll refer to each other as husbands with their friends. But they’ve already been living together for years, seen each other through so much. They make plans together, they pay bills together, they struggle and win together.
He doesn’t think he’d have that if he had become a rock star. Sure, Steve supported him while he tried. He probably would’ve stuck around for a while if they’d made it. But who knows what would’ve happened a year down the road. Two.
There’s a million reasons why things didn’t work out for the band.
One of them is so he could have this life, this future with Steve.
Steve watches Eddie try to fix his hair after they see a concert.
Steve sits on Eddie’s desk chair and watches across the hallway as Eddie wrestles with a wide toothed comb at his bathroom sink. He’s feeling good—tired, but not like the night should’ve been over hours ago—and despite the drying sweat and sobering up, he thinks he’d be happy just endlessly hanging out, drawing lines up and down Eddie’s body with his eyes, zoning out to the tendons in his hands.
Eddie had backcombed his hair earlier, because he wanted it BIG for the concert. That was good—he and Eddie had stayed at the edge of the pit. He’s a natural wall, and Eddie lit up like a dog chasing a car as he got to shove people. When Steve found a loose shoe and handed it to a tall guy, Eddie had caught his eye and beamed at him like he was being useful and fitting in. It’s easy, somehow. He was worried, looking like himself, in line at the thing, but there were other guys who looked regular too, and he’s not that preppy these days. Dressing for monster guts had changed him.
Eddie’s using oil on the knots in his hair. If he just got in the shower and used conditioner it’d go better, but Steve’s not going to suggest that because then he would have to find something else to look at while he simmers pleasantly under the echoes of their night out. Eddie’s gonna have to shower anyway, he’s not going to want to go to sleep with all the cooking oil in his hair, but that’s later. Maybe Steve can time it so he suddenly has to piss when Eddie’s in there and then maybe they can hang out, like he and Robin do, with the curtain shut tightly but trusting each other to be cool.
Watching Eddie work at his hair is not like watching Robin get ready, though. He doesn’t stare her down from wherever he can and catalogue the cut-out of her body like he does to Eddie—like he could take scissors and take him and put him on top of whatever picture he wanted to.
He could make a whole book of Eddie. Cut-outs of any second like a freeze frame in a movie and he could—
“Jesus FUCK!”
Steve jumps up and has to take a few breaths, watching Eddie’s frustration—boiled over; pasta water all over the stove—before he can swallow down his heartbeat and go into the bathroom.
“Alright. I’m taking over,” he declares, Coach style, like he never does with his friends but Eddie just gives him big eyes and holds the comb out. “Take off your shirt.”
Eddie eyes get even bigger but he does, flinging it across the hallway to the corner where his laundry basket is buried under dirty clothes. Maybe later Steve will declare something about that too.
Steve surveys the bathroom and takes Eddie’s wrist for no good reason, guiding him into the kitchen with its big sink.
“Run the warm water,” he says, lingering until Eddie nods, and even then he waits until the air gets awkward before he lets go. “Not too hot.”
He grabs conditioner and a towel, folding it to cushion Eddie’s naked back against the counter.
“How do you want me?” Eddie grins, toothy—funny. Steve wants to bend him face down and fit his hips to his ass, sink his fingers in his hair. That’s how.
“Face up, I’ll be careful.”
Eddie lays himself back, waiting, and Steve’s mouth fills with spit with anticipation.
Max knows Eddie likes Steve. Max knows Steve is oblivious. So what's a girl to do when her very overprotective friends are orbiting each other? Set them up and watch as they either figure their shit out or crash and burn.
She had demanded Steve take her to this music festival since he needs "to discover better music" and Eddie was a part of that demand since it was apparently a "Rock and Metal" festival, now she'll never admit this but Eddie got her hooked to Anthrax, but she's a diehard Joan Jett fan and she will fight anyone of they say otherwise. But now she's sitting in the backseat watching Eddie fail to be subtle while it all flies over Steve's head.
"y'know Harrington this is a great place to meet people." Eddie said jokingly.
"I'm not gonna meet someone at a concert, love the confidence Ed but that's not me anymore." Steve said with a small sigh.
The rest of the ride was pretty much silent except for the occasional, "that's not a bad one" or a "ok that's sick I like that one" from Steve as Eddie had brought some cassettes to expose Steve to the music he'd be hearing.
When they arrived Max soon realized just how out of place her and Steve looked. Everyone else was in leather jackets band shirts and ripped jeans. Max only matched them with her wild hair but after that she looked like a princess compared to these people. Steve didn't look all they intimidated by this sight rather he smiled. Eddie was used to the sight considering he got right into the crowd.
"c'mon you two let's get you fitted in some appropriate attire!" Eddie said as he grabbed Steve's hand and dragged him away, Max sprinted after them. Once they reached a tent that was suitable for their needs Eddie let go of Steve's hand his face somewhat red.
"Shit sorry man didn't mean to just latch myself onto you." Eddie said sheepishly. Steve just chuckled a bit.
"Relax man it's fine glad you're excited." Steve said casually.
"Yeah but maybe slow down? I'm already out of breath and we haven't seen a performance yet!" Max gasped for air. Eddie laughed nervously but they entered the tent and looked around, Eddie was helping them both find stuff, he grabbed an Anthrax shirt along with a denim vest that he quickly found pins to put onto. She was already wearing jeans that he refused to cut up since they were still good, Max just took his knife and did it herself. After that he helped Steve who had found an Iron Maiden shirt he liked and Eddie once more gave Steve his Dio vest. Steve had grown attached to it after the upsidedown jokingly saying he'd have to make his own. Eddie had brought an alternative vest instead and put that on after. They paid and left to go see who was performing.
Max had stuck herself next to Steve that way Eddie was on the other side of Steve. They were walking for a while since the festival was packed full of people, Eddie managed to get around just fine while Max and Steve struggled a bit but caught up to Eddie as the first band was performing. Eddie was having the time of his life, Max was starting to get into it, while Steve just kinda stood there. After a few songs they got off stage and a small break ensued. People began pushing and shoving their way towards them as they made their way out. Eddie managed to get out and dragged Steve with him but Max unfortunately got split from the group. Max had gotten shoved to the ground after someone told her to move out of the way. She thought she was about to be trampled by people but a sharp voice yelled out.
"The fuck are you animals!?" Eddie yelled from above. People's heads snapped up at him. Steve lifted Max up and Eddie proceeded to yell at the people near.
"I get wanting to get some beer and food but Jesus Christ watch where you're fucking going next time!" Eddie yelled with fury. Eddie motioned them forward so they could get close to the stage. They waited and chatted as the next band was setting up. Max turned her head to see that it was her favorite band. Anthrax was getting ready and Eddie and Steve were unaware as they were talking to each other. Max didn't pay attention as she had her eyes glued onto the scene unfolding in front of her. Soon a sound came from the mic making Steve and Eddie shut up and look in front of them.
Anthrax put on a killer show and Max will admit she went wild during the whole thing. But she couldn't help but notice Steve was holding Eddie's hand during one of the songs. After a few more bands they packed up and left. Max was beyond satisfied for the day but what happened back at the car made her day even better. She had gone to the bathroom and told the boys to wait for her. When she got back Eddie and Steve were kissing subtly. They split apart as soon as she cleared her throat.
"oh uh hey you ready?" Steve said nervously.
"yeah as long as you and your boyfriend are done making out" Max said with a smirk. Their faces went red as Max slid into the backseat and laid down.
Needless to say her mission was accomplished. With the benefit of seeing an amazing show.
pairing: steddie | rating: G | WC: 746 | ao3
tags: platonic stobin, meet cute, alternate first meeting, kiss cam
⚾️ 🎥 💕
Robin wasn’t especially happy to come to the game with him, but Steve is grateful for her making the best of it. He knows she’s only there because Lucas had an unexpected family obligation, and she felt bad for him when he was lamenting either missing it or going alone.
At least she seems to be having an okay time. She and Steve periodically lean in close to make each other giggle about the dude three rows down who’s definitely not getting another date. To everyone around them, they must look like they’re having the time of their lives.
Unfortunately, they’re also two young adults of opposite sexes, which puts them on a very particular radar.
Content to chatter with Robin between plays, Steve hardly pays attention to the music the stadium organist is banging out, nor is he really aware of what’s happening on the giant screen beyond second base. The danger doesn’t even occur to him when he sees the camera over the dugout pointed right at them.
The first sign is the look on Robin’s face. One second she’s laughing at one of Steve’s dumb jokes; the next she’s staring across the diamond, aghast. It has Steve whipping his head around to see what’s so shocking, and his eyes land on the screen just in time to see a version of himself doing the same, on a moment’s delay. A gaudy pink frame, made up of heart-shaped bubbles, surrounds the two of them.
Steve turns back to Robin, her eyes as wide as he’s ever seen them. That expression communicates two important things to him.
One: She does not want to kiss him. That’s nothing new, and it doesn’t bother him at all. If anything, he’s a little grossed out by the fact that he ever entertained the thought, even if the last time he did was a million years ago.
Two: They’re watching. Steve, they’re watching us. It’s a silent plea to make them stop watching. He knows how she feels, because there’s a chittering murmur starting up in the crowd, and suddenly he feels surrounded by strangers who are desperate to witness their embarrassment.
What Steve does next isn’t an idea—it’s more of a reflex. He turns away from Robin, and before he knows it he’s got his lips locked with the guy sitting on his other side.
He didn’t clock it until he was already yanking him in by the front of his shirt, but the stranger he’s kissing is a guy. Even though long curls tickle his cheeks, Steve has enough experience to know the difference in an instant. The problem is, he can’t bring himself to care—partly because the guy is starting to recover his wits, and instead of shoving Steve away and kicking his teeth in, he’s kissing back.
He’s a good kisser, too. A great one. As suddenly as he initiated the kiss, Steve loses control of it, and he fucking melts. He feels his shoulders droop as all the tension falls out of them. He somehow manages to cup the guy’s jaw with his palm, despite his arms going all numb and tingly like he’s been lying on them for a while.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve is aware of the fact that he basically just outed himself to an entire stadium full of people, many of them now laughing and wolf-whistling. That’s not what breaks the kiss, though. Instead, it’s Robin tapping him on the shoulder and gently clearing her throat.
“Uh, dingus? They’ve moved on.”
Steve isn’t the one to pull back, either. The stranger’s smirk disconnects from his lips and murmurs, “Wow. Turns out I love baseball.”
Eyes fluttering open, Steve spots an older man in the seat beyond him, suppressing a grin.
Robin leans across and says to the stranger, “Thanks for taking one for the team.”
Blushing, Steve mumbles, “Yeah. Thanks, man.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, big boy,” the stranger replies, still smirking.
The last couple innings go by without further incident. But as they stand up to leave at the end of the game, Steve feels a folded scrap of paper being slipped directly into his hand. He opens it slowly as the stranger departs with a coy look over his shoulder.
Steve has to blink several times before his eyes can focus on what it says. Once he manages it, his breath catches when he sees seven digits and a single word: Eddie.
Card: 1990s | Prompt: Spice Girls | Song: Wannabe | Word Count: 1990 | Rating: T | POV: Steve | Relationships: Steve & Corroded Coffin, Steddie | CW: Drug Use (Weed) | Tags: Canon Divergence, Pre-Season 4 | Read on ao3
for @corrodedcoffinfest
Steve loves Eddie. Sometimes he can't quite believe that they're together. It took him a month to ask Eddie out and they almost didn't go on a date because Eddie just stared at him for a minute before he blurted out yes. Eddie's been a great boyfriend, but there's one thing Steve has struggled with.
Corroded Coffin.
Steve knows how important Eddie's bandmates are to him. That's one of the first things he brought up on their first date. Eddie talked about them becoming friends, Gareth joining the band, and how they hope someday they can make it out of Hawkins. Steve knows how important friends are. Realizing that your friends are assholes who you don't want to be around gives a person a greater appreciation of making friends. Which is why for the past month he's been worried about what he'll say to them.
He's seen them a couple of times when he drops the kids off for Hellfire and given a head nod and 'hey' after attending one of their gigs. But he's never had a full-fledged conversation with any of them. Gareth, at least makes sense, he was a baby freshman when Steve was a senior. Jeff and Les were only a grade behind so he must of had at least one class with them.
Eddie told him he had nothing to worry about. The guys were sure to love him because Eddie loved him. It's a sweet sentiment, but not something that Steve is going to keep his hopes up about it. He's decided that he'll get to know each of them one on one. Surely, then they'll see that he's a good boyfriend and perfect for Eddie.
—
Steve decides to call Jeff first. He seems to be the most open to Steve hanging out with them.
"Hello?"
"Hey, is this Jeff? It's Steve."
"Uh, Steve? Eddie isn't here," Jeff replies.
"I know," Steve bounces his knee. "I thought we could hang out sometime. I want to get to know you better."
"Really?" Jeff's confusion comes across clearly and part of Steve is kicking himself for not having the conversation in person.
"Yeah. You can come over to my house or I can go to yours. Or, we can go somewhere else?" He sounds desperate and in a way he is. He wants to be a good boyfriend, damnit.
"You can probably come over to my house. Does Saturday at two work?"
Steve lets out a heavy exhale. "Sure. I'll see you then."
Steve is anxious when he gets to Jeff's house. The front lawn has roses bushes under the windows and there's an abandoned trike and bike. When Jeff answers the door, he hears little kid screams.
"Don't worry that's just my siblings." He nods towards the back of the house. "They've been competitive shits all day and I need a break from being referee."
Jeff guides him to the garage, where amongst all the outdoor toys, folding chairs, and a space where presumably a car would go, is a small card table with paints, a magnify glass on a stand, lamp, and little pieces, that upon further inspection, might be people.
Steve sits down on one of the metal folding chairs. "What's this?"
Jeff sits down and begins pouring some paint into a little palette. "You've seen our game table when you pick up Dustin, Lucas, and Mike right?"
Steve nods.
"These are mini figs. They're the characters and creatures that we use to represent us."
"Why do you have to paint them?"
Jeff picks one up and hands it to Steve. It's a man wielding a hammer.
"You can buy them pre-done, but people like to customize. It makes character design more fun."
"Do you paint all of them for Hellfire?"
Jeff shakes his head. "Nah, Eddie does it for most of his that he uses for our campaigns so it doesn't spoil anything. Except sometimes he gets behind so I help."
Steve watches as Jeff mixes paints and picks out a brush. It's slow, methodical work and Steve doesn't think he would be cut out for it. He occasionally asks Jeff questions, but for the most part keeps quiet. The only time Jeff gets up is because his siblings stop shouting.
He returns with a shrug. "It's when they're quiet that you know they're doing something they shouldn't."
Steve thinks about Dustin and The Party with Dart and is glad that Jeff's siblings can't get into any trouble like that.
A few hours later, Steve is sore from sitting in the metal chair and trying his best not to grimace.
Jeff looks up from his work, eye large in the magnified lens. "Oh shit, I guess that's not really comfy is it?"
Steve huffs a laugh. "Not really."
"Sorry, dude. I got so in the zone I forgot you were there."
Steve stands up and shakes his legs out. "I could have said something." He didn't really want to though. The last couple of years have been hectic and just sitting for a couple of hours and not expected to do anything is quite the relief.
Jeff stands. "Next time you come over, we should do something that's a little more active."
Steve smiles. There's going to be a next time.
—
After nailing it with Jeff, Steve's more confident when he calls Les. Les easily accepts and Steve heads over the following Friday. He's confidence falters when an older woman answers the door.
"Uh, hi? Les invited me over."
The woman's face lights up. "Ulysses your friend is here!"
Steve hears quick footsteps and then Les appears down the hallway.
"Thanks, Grandma," Les says as he jerks his head forward, "Follow me," he tells Steve.
They walk back the way Les came and enter his bedroom. It reminds Steve of Eddie's a little. Band posters cover the wall and there's a bookcase heaving under the weight of the books strategically shelved there. It's not as messy though, or maybe Les tried to tidy up before Steve arrived. He flops down on the bed, hands running over a handmade quilt.
"So, Ulysses?" Steve says.
"Ugh," Les groans. "It's a family name. Did you know that people used to looooove naming their kids after presidents? My grandma is really the only one who calls me that anymore." He sends a pointed look to Steve.
"Got it." Steve replies. He watches as Les moves around the room. Les grabs an album, cat eyes staring back at Steve, as he puts the record on. Tinkly music starts to play and then trumpets join in.
Steve does his best to suppress a grimace. "What's this?"
Les smiles and then lights a joint. As he exhales he hands the joint to Steve. He happily takes it. "It's a musical. Cats. The guys don't really like this kind of stuff."
Steve's knowledge of musicals starts and ends with The Sound of Music. He doesn't even remember much, just some happy, bouncy songs and thinking Julie Andrews looked pretty. He takes another hit before handing the joint back to Les. Hopefully, this one isn't too bad.
Steve doesn't know if it's his high or the musical itself, but it's odd. Firstly, everyone seems to be cats and the names are just long enough he can't keep track of everyone. Les seems to be having a good time though. He sings most of the songs and it's been interesting to hear him. Usually he sings backup for the band. His voice is nice, a smooth tenor, that occasionally breaks out into giggles.
Les gets up to switch records. "Hey, do you want to stay for dinner? My grandma is making meatloaf."
His high is starting to wear off and his stomach growls. "Sure."
—
Scheduling Gareth's one-on-one was easy. Gareth had invited Steve over himself. Clearly Jeff and Les had filled him in and he decided to take the first step. Steve hopes that means good things. He rings the doorbell. Gareth opens the door.
"Hey, thanks for inviting me over man," Steve says as he steps inside.
Gareth scoffs. "You've already talked to Les and Jeff. Clearly I was the last person on your little list."
Steve grimaces. It wasn't like he was hiding what he was doing, but he thought he was a little more subtle. Gareth leads him to the kitchen where ingredients are all lined up on the counter.
"What are we doing?" Steve asks.
Gareth picks up a spoon. "Making cookies."
Steve relaxes, he can do this. He grabs an apron off a hook and ignores Gareth's smirk.
"What do you want me to do?"
Gareth hands the spoon to him. "Measure out the dry ingredients. The sugar goes in one bowl and the rest goes in the other."
He takes the spoon and follows along with the recipe. It's quiet, minus the whir of the stand mixer, and there's something amusing about the fact that all the guys seem to like to the quiet. Steve doesn't think it's a tactic to freak him out.
He and Gareth actually work well together. Whenever Steve hands over a utensil or the next ingredient, Gareth's brows furrow for a second before accepting. When Gareth speeds up the mixer too soon and flour goes everywhere, Steve laughs and helps wipe the counter. It isn't until the cookies are in the oven that Gareth leans on the counter and gives Steve an assessing look.
"Jeff, Les, and I have talked about what you're doing."
Steve sits on a dining room chair and grips his hands on his thighs.
"When Jeff first told us that you wanted to hang out with him we didn't believe him. We know you love Eddie, you can't hide that from us."
Steve smiles.
"But, we just assumed you would hang around us enough to keep the peace." Gareth pauses and looks at Steve expectantly.
"You're right, I do want to keep the peace," Steve begins, "but I also know how important you all are to Eddie. I know we don't have to be friends, but I think we should be friendly. I've had friendships fail and I didn't want you all to think I would come between you and Eddie. I want to be a good boyfriend."
Gareth's face softens. "We know you're a good boyfriend. Even before all this 'getting to know you' shit. If you weren't good do you think we'd let you stay?" The timer beeps and Gareth quickly opens the over door to peek through. He grabs an oven mitt and brings the sheet tray out and sets it on the stovetop. "Now, stop worrying about your boyfriend's friends and eat a fucking cookie."
—
Steve laughs over the sound of Gareth's Bugs Bunny impression. They're in the kitchen, ostensively to make lunch, but the pasta reached done a long time ago, and the sandwiches are half made. Jeff and Les are grabbing dishes down, playful bumping into each other as they sing along to the radio.
None of them notice Eddie until he clears his throat. They all stop and stare at him.
"It sounds like you're all having fun."
Steve sidles up to Eddie and kisses his cheek. "Yeah. I like when the guys come over."
Eddie wraps his arm around Steve. "Is this what happens when you use the ol' Harrington charm? My friends suddenly ditch me for my boyfriend?"
Steve rolls his eyes. "As if I didn't have to work for it. You're friends have high standards. I'm surprised you passed the test."
Eddie lets Steve go and dramatically flings himself onto the barstool. "Well, go on then. Have fun while I waste away over here."
The guys all laugh as they go back to their tasks. Steve leans over Eddie gives him a kiss. "As if you don't love having us all together," Steve says.
Eddie looks at Steve with the purest expression of love. "It's the best."
Bingo Card: 1990s || Prompt: Nirvana | Song: Come As You Are | Word Count: 8858 | Rating: E | CW: Past Trauma | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Omegaverse, Meet Ugly, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Alpha Eddie, Omega Steve, Knotting, Happy Ending
Also available on ao3.
It's sweltering. Eddie lifts his shirt, wiping his face. He knows he's only got about three or four good hours left to get this project finished, before he's gotta head home. Hunker down and ride this out.
He stinks. He can smell himself inside the shop, and that's saying something.
Eddie has never enjoyed his rut. Not as a teen right after he presented, and definitely not now that he's got a business to run, with paying customers waiting. It's an annoyance. An inconvenience. And if he could, he'd just skip it. Being a beta sounds pretty damn nice to him.
Unfortunately, he can't change shit about his life, never has been able to, but he promised Wayne he'd get more done before closing up. That much he can make good on. If he's gonna be out of commission for the next three days, he's gotta get ahead.
Problem is, Eddie's never been ahead a day in his life.
Eddie catches the movement from just outside the shop, making him curious. There's a man loitering around, jacket slung over his arm, working his fingers against each other. Eddie's hackles rise, and then go down again.
This guy doesn't look mad. Nor is he slinking around, being shady.
He looks like he's patiently waiting for something. Eddie definitely doesn't have any appointments scheduled, and he doesn't see any cars in need of attention.
"Can I help you?" Eddie hollers. No matter how good looking this guy is, Eddie doesn't have time for anything else. He can't add anything to his plate. He's got maybe an hour before he'll be unfit to be around the public.
Not that Eddie's ever really fit to be around the public. But that's how he likes it. Eddie would prefer it if he never had to actually interact with the customers at all.
This dude included. Maybe especially this dude, because he looks like another alpha. A preppy motherfucker. That's just asking for trouble today. And Eddie? Eddie's been in enough trouble to last a lifetime. He's on the straight and narrow now.
He did his time, and he's never going back inside.
"Just waiting," the guy calls back, not budging. As if he's stuck to the concrete under his feet.
"For what?" Eddie shouts.
"You, I think."
And then he wiggles his fingers in Eddie's direction. A little taunt of a wave if Eddie's ever seen one. Eddie bristles.
He's not buying whatever this dude is selling. He puts down his socket wrench, and steps outside the garage. When he does, it's not his own smell that fills his nose. Nor the familiar one of the garage. His safe haven. His home away from home.
No, now it's him.
Omega.
Fuck. That's not. He's not doing that. Not again.
He's a confirmed bachelor for a reason. He tried the love thing once. Didn't work out so good. And he paid the price for getting entangled like that. Now, he's quite alright with being a lone wolf. Wayne's the only pack he needs.
Eddie yanks down the garage door, slamming it to the concrete, twisting the handle, and jamming his key in the lock. He's left every light on, and his music playing. Wayne's gonna gnaw on his ass later.
Worth it. Because right now, he's leaving. Eddie damn well ain't looking for trouble. Trouble has always been able to find him easy enough as is.
"We're closed," Eddie says, giving this omega a wide berth.
"I'm not here for the shop. I'm here for you," he says, falling in step with Eddie as he heads towards the van.
"For what?" Eddie says, whirling around, holding up his hand, desperate to put some distance between them. Defensive. Suspicious. He doesn't need no more trouble. "Who the hell are you?"
"Steve," he says, cocking his head to the side like Eddie's an idiot, "I moved in recently."
Steve nods down the block. It's too vague to pinpoint where he means. Eddie hasn't exactly been scoping out the other businesses on the street. He keeps to himself. It's smarter to mind your own goddamn business.
"And?" Eddie asks.
"I've been catching whiffs of you all week. Today, you were strong enough to lead me here."
Eddie laughs, kind of meanly, "You sure you ain't an alpha? Hunting people down because they smell good? Like some kind of pervert."
Steve laughs, like he isn't offended by this accusation, holding up his hands. A sign of coming in peace. Eddie doesn't feel peace at all.
"I wasn't expecting someone so surly," Steve says, but seems absolutely unbothered that Eddie is clearly very bothered.
"Yeah, well. Here I am. I'm surly on a good day, and this ain't a good day. Now, I gotta go," Eddie says, making a move towards his driver's door.
Steve slides forward, closing in on Eddie again. He's even taller than Eddie realized. Bigger. As tall as Eddie is, and definitely sturdier. An outlier of an omega.
"You smell good."
"I smell like motor oil and multi-generational disappointment. Move," Eddie says, and Steve smiles, barely stepping to the side, as he grins like an idiot. Eddie doesn't return the gesture.
Eddie's never been cornered by an omega before. It's fucking bizarre.
Steve lifts his chin, takes a deep breath, sucking in a lungful of air through his nose. Like he's trying to catch even more of Eddie's scent. It feels invasive. Intrusive. And Eddie does not like intrusiveness.
"You're going into a rut."
"The fuck is that to you?" Eddie snaps. What a freak.
"You want some help?"
Eddie slams the van door, and Steve curls both of his hands around the open window frame, hanging on. Maybe he's a prostitute. He doesn't look like one, with his stupid, little polo shirt tucked into his jeans, but Eddie doesn't fucking know. You can't judge a book by its cover, and all that shit.
There ain't no way in fucking hell Eddie would ever fall for whatever this trap is. He wasn't born yesterday. He's been around every block, and he ain't going down that road again for love nor money. Definitely not for omega pussy. The State of Indiana can fuck right off.
"No means no," Eddie says, turning over the key, jamming it into reverse. Steve lets go, and Eddie kicks up gravel as he peels out.
Five days, and a whole lot of chaffing later, Eddie's back at the shop. That was the worst rut he's ever had, and he's had some doozies. Now, he's slid under a pickup with a leaky oil pan, and about two extra days behind on work. Of course he is.
"Hey, uh, you…under there," a voice calls out.
Eddie creeps out from under the truck and it's Steve. Fucking Steve. The pushy omega.
Steve is squatted down. Smiling awkwardly. Eddie pulls off his mask, and now he can smell him. He's throwing off a whole lot of confusing scents.
Mainly shame.
So, probably not a prostitute.
Eddie is still flummoxed by that interaction they had, but he wouldn't have forgotten his scent. It was burned into his nose for days. Eddie blames it for his horrendous rut, honestly.
"Hi," Steve says, "uh, I think I owe you an apology."
Eddie waves him off. It's fine. No harm, no foul.
"It's fine," Eddie says.
"It's not. I don't even think I got your name before I tried to lure you into bed," Steve says, looking sheepish.
Eddie laughs, more amused today than he was the other day. Not being on the precipice of going into a rut will do wonders for his general disposition.
"I'm Eddie," Eddie offers.
"Well, Eddie, I'm sorry. And embarrassed. I'm not usually so…"
"Forward?" Eddie supplies.
"I was gonna go with whorish, but forward is sure nicer."
Eddie laughs.
"It's fine. Never been stalked by an omega before. That was a new one."
Steve smiles, "Yeah, well. I'm not exactly conventional. I didn't even know I was going into heat. I wasn't due. Not that I'm regular. But still. You just," he says, looking away, "you smelled so good. And apparently that means I thought it was a good idea to do whatever the hell that was. Sorry."
Nobody ever tells Eddie he smells good. Off-putting, yes. Good? No. This guy's nose is clearly malfunctioning.
"It's fine, I mean. It happens. Probably. Not to me. But I know you didn't really want me. You don't even know me. You can do much better than this."
Steve huffs out a rueful laugh.
"I don't know about that," Steve says, eyes cutting away. Scent giving off distressed omega, which is alpha kryptonite, at least to Eddie. That's why Eddie tries to just keep his distance.
But that's not an option today.
Honestly, though. Is Steve nuts? He's gorgeous. Eddie has the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand, but his hands are greasy, so he stops himself. However, Steve looks so pale and clammy, Eddie changes his mind and does it anyway. Hands will wash.
He gives Steve's hand a squeeze, and Steve squeezes back. His hand is far too warm.
"It's really fine."
Steve sags, like a relief has washed over him. Eddie laces his fingers with Steve's, holding on. Pressing their wrists together awkwardly. Trying to soothe him. Eddie's not good at this. Comforting omegas. Comforting anyone. He's out of practice, if he was ever in practice in the first place.
But Wayne would have his ass if he didn't at least pretend to act like the gentleman he's most certainly not.
"Are you okay?" Eddie asks.
"Yeah. I'm just fucked up. My body," Steve says, and he reaches up and wipes his free hand all the way down his face. "I think the other day threw me into some kind of temporary rejection sickness. From an alpha I didn't even know the name of, and chased down like a lunatic. How fucked up is that?"
Eddie swallows.
Steve keeps talking.
"They warned me things would go fucking haywire if I didn't find someone, anyone, to mate with. That time was ticking. That I was too picky for my own good. That this is my own fault. If I'd just take a knot, everything would settle down. Like I'm some sort of ancient, old hag at forty-one for not being mated."
Eddie moves closer, touching Steve's cheek with his other dirty palm. Steve doesn't seem to mind, not with the way he leans into it.
"You're definitely not an old hag."
"And you're not so surly now," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.
"Yeah, well. Let's keep that between us?"
Steve nods.
"I'm sorry I was so forward," Steve says. "I'm unconventional. Just ask my parents and my doctors. It's a nice way of saying I'm a freak."
Eddie smiles, "Well. That makes two of us."
Steve grins at him. So, Eddie continues.
"There's nothing wrong with waiting. It's smart. I didn't get mated, but I got real close once. It was a bad idea. Beyond bad. And when the dust settled, I knew I'd never do it again. Not getting yourself into that position is smart, Steve. You've been smart."
Steve nods, "I'm not even looking these days. Maybe I was being picky at first, and then I just got used to being independent. Perhaps to my own detriment. But I swear I've never acted like I did the other day. I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be," Eddie says, "biology is fucking weird sometimes. No hard feelings."
Steve nods, and pulls his hand out of Eddie's and Eddie lets him go. Steve looks exhausted.
"Thank you, for not taking advantage."
Eddie's heart squeezes.
"Not that I wasn't willing, I was, but that definitely wasn't me. Not the normal me, anyway."
Eddie nods. Steve's surprise heat probably zapped him, just like Eddie's rut did. Eddie's not really one for company, or for an audience while he works, but, well. A sucker is born every minute. Eddie has always been proof of that.
And he wouldn't mind getting to know the real Steve. He seems like an okay dude after all. So, Eddie makes an offer.
"Listen, I got some more work to do, but if you wanna hang out around here you can."
"Yeah, definitely," Steve says, smiling like Eddie's really offered him something, so Eddie rolls out his office chair, the nicest thing they've got around here, so Steve can sit right next to the pickup slides back under.
And Steve talks, asking Eddie questions. About the shop. About his life. About everything. He tells him that his parents didn't expect an omega son, and kinda fucked him up about it for a long time. By the time he'd gotten his head on straight, he was already old by unmated omega standards. Set in his ways.
It snowballed from there.
Eddie knows a thing or two about things snowballing out of your control.
And when Eddie rolls out from under the vehicle again, oil pan fixed, oil changed, Steve's got color in his face, at least more than he had earlier, and Eddie kinda feels like he's made a friend.
In perhaps the weirdest way possible. But still. Having Steve's company wasn't half bad.
When he's locking up for the night, Steve standing nearby, Eddie looks at him, "Friends?"
Steve smiles, "Friends. Definitely."
"Need a ride home?"
"Nah, I'm right over there," Steve says, and Eddie quickly realizes he meant that. Because Steve walks right next door to the small house. It's been empty for a long time, until it wasn't.
Steve.
He wasn't gesturing towards downtown, he was nodding next door.
Eddie guesses that means they're neighbors. That explains why Steve must have thought he needed to smooth things over.
They're gonna be in the same vicinity, like it or not.
Eddie thinks he might like it.
After that, Steve Harrington is around on the regular. Eddie finds he doesn't mind. He even misses him being around when he goes missing for a few days in a row, always coming back looking like he's been wrung out. Migraines, he says.
He also suspects that Steve wasn't experiencing rejection sickness, but isolation sickness. Eddie's a loner, but Steve Harrington is alone. He has a beta best friend across the country that he talks about, but that's it.
He's starved for companionship, for touch, and Eddie likes a project. Always has, always will.
Steve always disappears as soon as any other alpha turns up. After the first few times of getting what was clearly unwanted attention, he made it a habit to slink off into Eddie's office and hide until Eddie's alone again. If he hears Wayne's truck pull up out back, it's like he vanishes into thin air.
Just like he just did, moments earlier. Eddie was mid-sentence.
Eddie doesn't really get it. He's gorgeous. But it sure explains why he doesn't have an alpha if he hides from every one he crosses paths with. Eddie's sure there's more to that story, there has to be, but he hasn't pressed Steve to explain why he's so isolated from the world.
That's fine. Eddie hasn't explained all his damage either.
Eddie hears the back door open and close.
Wayne scents the air.
"Okay, kid. I gotta ask if you're not gonna tell me on your own. That omega smell is all over this shop, what's going on?" Wayne asks.
"I've told you. That's Steve," Eddie answers, bent over the car that's pulled into the shop. A customer reported a clanking noise that Eddie's trying to pinpoint.
"Steve, who I've never seen hide nor hair of, not even once."
"Yep. Lives next door. I've told you that."
Wayne makes a noise of disbelief, and Eddie turns his head to look at him.
"What? You think I'm lyin'?"
Wayne shakes his head, but it sure looks like he doesn't believe Eddie.
"No. Just. What's he after?" Wayne asks.
"Nothing. Company," Eddie says, "A friend. I'm his friend."
"And you're sure he's not looking to bring you trouble?" Wayne asks, and Eddie shakes his head. He's pretty sure that's not the case. But his mind obviously thought that, too, at least at first.
"He's not."
Wayne nods.
"Fine, you sure you're not, you know, courting him, then?"
Eddie laughs, "No. We're just friends."
"And yet he hides from me," Wayne prods.
"He hides from everyone. You ain't special, old man."
"Doesn't seem like he hides from you," Wayne says pointedly, but Eddie doesn't take the bait. Just goes back to working on the car.
Steve is allowed to pick and choose who he wants to interact with, and if that list is so short that it's only Eddie, well, then so be it.
"You really don't have anybody? No mate? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Nothing?" Steve asks one night. All the extra shop lights are turned on so Eddie can work late into the night. Steve must have seen him working, because he wandered over an hour ago. Now Eddie's being grilled.
No good deed goes unpunished.
"Nothing. Really," Eddie says.
"Crazy," Steve mutters, but if Steve doesn't have someone, Eddie doesn't know why Steve thinks Eddie should.
"Why? You don't have anybody either. It's not a requirement," Eddie banters back, and Steve laughs, rolling around in Eddie's office chair that he drags out whenever he comes to visit.
If it low-key smells like omega, like Steve, all the goddamn time now, Eddie pretends to ignore it.
"You're just nice, is all," Steve says. "Kind."
Eddie cackles, "If you say so."
The next day, Eddie's patching a tire while Steve organizes a filing cabinet. Eddie didn't ask him to, but if he wants to, well, he can knock himself out. It's nice. Being together, but not feeling the urge to fill all the quiet spaces.
"Eddie?" Steve says, speaking for the first time in an hour, as if he could read Eddie's mind and just wanted to prove him wrong. It makes Eddie smile.
"What's up?" Eddie asks.
"I'm gonna go home. I don't feel good," Steve says, and that gets Eddie to look at him.
Fuck, he doesn't look good.
Eddie stands without realizing he's doing it.
"Here," Eddie says, leading him to the dirty couch in the corner of the office. Steve sits next to him, and Eddie pulls his face closer, until his nose is buried into Eddie's neck, Eddie's hand pressed to Steve's forehead. He's burning up.
It's weird. It's been so long since he's touched anyone like this. He doesn't really understand why Steve, who is so standoffish with the rest of the world, has taken to him. Eddie thought he'd made himself scary and unapproachable. With his hair, and tattoos, and outwardly surly disposition. Steve Harrington just doesn't care about any of that, apparently.
"Better?" Eddie asks after a few minutes. Steve nods, pulling back and resting his head on Eddie's shoulder for a brief moment, before pulling away. Eddie's not his alpha, but he is an alpha.
And if he can help him feel better, he will.
Eddie discreetly scents him. Smells like regular Steve. Now that he's confident that Steve's not in danger, he encourages Steve to go home and rest.
"Go home. Take a nap. I'll bring dinner over after I close. Deal?" Eddie asks.
"Deal."
"Wayne made fried chicken!" Eddie shouts, kicking Steve's front door closed with his foot as he balances the bowls of food covered in foil.
Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, corn, rolls. The works. If Eddie didn't know better he'd think Wayne was trying to woo Steve. Well, maybe he is. Woo him out of hiding.
Steve comes in, and he's riper than usual.
Eddie can't pinpoint what's going on. His first instinct is heat but Steve smells like this all the time. There should be a much bigger change.
"You feeling any better?" Eddie asks, and Steve raises his hand, rotating it in a wishy-washing movement.
"Eh," Steve says, and Eddie's not gonna overstay his welcome. Not if he doesn't feel good. If he's got a migraine, he doesn't need Eddie's loud ass here.
"Eat, I'll see you when you're feeling better," Eddie says, and Steve nods.
Steve doesn't show up. And keeps not showing up. By day seven, Eddie's officially worried sick.
Eddie makes his way over after he closes the garage, and grabs the spare key from the top of Steve's door frame.
In case of emergency. Eddie deems this as such.
"Steve?" Eddie calls out, and there's no answer, so he climbs the stairs, and he smells him before he sees him.
Pushing open the door, Eddie can see that his nest is full of Eddie's things. The whole room smells like oil, sweat and a hint of gasoline. It's. Well, it's a lot.
Under that, Eddie can smell Steve. His sweat, his slick. Eddie flares his nostrils, closing his eyes as he breathes deep. Steve's curled up in the middle of it, hair so wet it's clinging to his forehead, his neck. Curling around the edges. Eddie's never seen him look like that.
"Steve, are you okay?" Eddie asks, and Steve jolts.
Eddie holds up his hands, "Hey. You're okay. It's just me. You haven't come by in a week. I was worried."
Steve nods his head, laying it back down on his pillow, "It's bad this time. It'll let up eventually. Or I'll die. I don't have a preference at this point."
Steve might not have a preference, but Eddie sure does. Steve's not dying on his watch.
"Can I do anything for you?"
"Could I scent you?"
Eddie doesn't mind him doing it, but it feels like he's overstepping. He barged into Steve's house, and now into his nest? While he's in heat? He is in heat, Eddie thinks, but he just smells like Steve always smells.
Still, what choice does he have? Steve is suffering.
"Okay," Eddie says, shedding his jacket.
He sits down awkwardly on the edge of his bed, and assumes Steve is gonna scoot over and press his nose into Eddie's neck.
Eddie was wrong.
Steve crawls around until he's got his nose pressed into Eddie's groin. Where he smells strongest. He's not touching him, but he's close.
Fuck. Eddie's got control. He's not a young pup. But this is asking for a lot.
Steve's fingers grip Eddie's forearm, and the skin on them is pruny, and Eddie knows why. He can't think about that.
Steve's resting his head on Eddie's thigh now, and his purr is vibrating them both.
"That's it," Eddie says, petting Steve's hair.
"I'm tired," Steve says.
And Eddie imagines he is.
"Are you in heat?" Eddie asks.
Steve shrugs, "Always kinda am, I think," he mumbles. That explains a lot. The lack of change in his scent, the fact that he always makes himself scarce around other alphas.
He trusts Eddie. Eddie swallows. Tightening his grip on Steve's shoulder. Fuck. Steve's really gotta develop a plan before it gets this bad again. This can't keep happening. Not like this. It can't be good for him. You aren't meant to always be in heat.
"You're gonna have to line something up for next time," Eddie says gently.
Steve groans at the suggestion, his scent souring around the edges.
"I know you don't want to, but this feels dangerous."
This time, Steve nods ever so slightly
"I know. They're getting closer together and longer. Kinda all the time, on some level."
They definitely are if Eddie's never been able to tell the difference. It feels like Steve must always be on the way into or on the way out of a heat.
Fucking hell.
"It'll be okay. It'll be better. You'll see."
Now that Eddie knows, Steve has stopped hiding it, and Eddie realizes his migraine problem has been greatly exaggerated.
He doesn't have a headache problem, he has a heat problem.
And another fucking heat is already ramping up. Eddie feels like Steve's last one just ended days ago. He can smell the difference now that he knows Steve's pretty consistently in a low-grade heat at best.
"Steve."
"Don't even," Steve says, sitting down at the table.
Eddie's never seen anything like it. He's given him undershirts, and once, his sweaty handkerchief. The last time the shop rag truck came around, Eddie looked in the barrel and realized he really didn't have that many to send out to be laundered. Like, they'd all up and walked away. When the uniform truck came a week later, that's when Eddie realized someone had helped themselves to his stinky things.
Seeing his nest just confirmed it.
He orders more shop rags, and another set of uniform shirts. He'll just have to take at least one home every night, and then bring them back in when it's time for them to send them out to be laundered if he wants to keep them away from Steve's sticky fingers.
Steve clearly wasn't lying when he said he liked Eddie's scent, even if Eddie thinks that's kinda nuts. Eddie doesn't smell good.
Still, Steve needs to find heat help. And sooner rather than later.
And it's not gonna be Eddie. Not that Steve has come onto him again, or asked for that, he definitely hasn't, and Eddie's not about to offer. If Steve didn't try to get anything out of him in his nest the other day, he's pretty sure they're totally past that weird first encounter.
Which is good.
That'd be too messy. And Eddie's not looking for messy. He likes Steve and he doesn't want to fuck up a good thing. They're friends. Great friends, now.
Still. Dude needs laid.
And, well, maybe Steve is being too picky. A heat service, anything, might calm his instincts down. Something is haywire and in overdrive. He can't go on like this indefinitely. He needs a fucking knot. Dirty, greasy shop towels ain't gonna cut it.
But Eddie's definitely not gonna be another person in Steve's life to insist that Steve's doing something wrong with his own body.
"Are you a virgin?" Eddie asks a week later when Steve's only in a mild heat, not the full throes.
Steve laughs, "No? Where'd you get that idea?"
Eddie chuckles. Fuck, he doesn't know. It was stupid.
"Sorry, I don't know. Ignore me," Eddie says, taking a big bite of his sandwich.
"I've never been knotted, but I've had sex. Plenty. I'm not celibate. I'll have you know I was a babe in my youth."
Eddie nearly chokes, and tries to recover with even a trace of dignity. It's impossible. Steve's laughing.
He's still a babe now.
"Just never took a knot. Despite all the alpha whining I had to endure as they tried to cajole me into it."
"Never?" Eddie asks.
"Never," Steve confirms. "I just. I dug my heels in, just because I could. I'm stubborn. And then it went on for too long, that just letting some random alpha knot me seemed stupid. When I find one I think is worth it, if I do, then I'll do it. I'm not a prude. Furthest from it. I like sex. Love it. Am good at it, thank you very much," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. Fond.
"But being tied to some asshole alpha just to get my pussy filled wasn't my idea of fun."
Eddie nods. Fair enough. It's not like he has room to talk. It's been years, nearly twenty, since he's done it himself. There's a vulnerability to it, from both sides, and Eddie's just not into doing that with random omegas he can pick up in the bar on the bad side of town.
But Steve's never gonna meet the one, because the only person he ever interacts with, as far as Eddie knows, is Eddie.
Steve continues. "And right now it feels too dangerous to have casual sex. I'm in a drought, man. Dire times, indeed. But I'm always giving off the scent like I'm in heat these days. Alphas react to that. Well, most of them do, anyway."
It's pointed. It's not that Eddie hasn't reacted. Steve smells good. Always. Of course he does. But Eddie can control himself, and eventually he'd decided that that's just what Steve smells like. Eddie didn't fucking realize he was just always in some level of a heat. That's insane. Nobody lives like that.
Except Steve, apparently.
"I'm not scared of alphas. I know you think I am. But I know I can hold my own. I'd just rather not have to, you know?"
Eddie nods, and brushes his fingertips against Steve's wrist. Lightly marking him.
Steve brings his wrist to his nose, and inhales.
"How long have you been having this many heats?" Eddie's never seen someone have this many. It cannot be good for him.
"Since about the time I moved here. I mean, I was already having them way too often. But there were clear breaks, you know? Now, not so much."
Eddie hums in disapproval.
"Have you ever been in love?" Steve asks, as if that's the next logical part of this conversation. Maybe it is.
Eddie nods curtly, "Once. You?"
Steve shrugs, "It was always pretty one-sided."
"You just weren't that into them," Eddie confirms, or so he thinks. Steve shakes his head.
"No, they weren't that into me. Story of my life."
Eddie can't imagine how that could possibly be true. Steve's a catch. How he hasn't been caught is beyond Eddie's comprehension. If Eddie was in the market…and yeah, that's not a road he's gonna go down. Not now. Not ever.
"Then they weren't worth your love," Eddie states, and Steve smiles, but it's sad around the edges.
"I wish I believed that. I believe in love, at my core. I want to give love, and have that person want me to love them. I want to be someone's mate. Someone's whole world."
Eddie feels his gut twist with guilt that he's blatantly ignoring the fact that he could love Steve. Does love him. Eddie's just not a good partner, or alpha. Hell, if you ask some people in this town, he's not even a good person.
Steve deserves better.
"Anybody would be lucky to be loved by you," Eddie says.
"Yeah, sure," Steve says, like he doesn't believe a word Eddie's saying. It frustrates Eddie.
"No, really. The luckiest."
Steve smiles at him, and Eddie returns it.
"C'mon. It's time for lunch."
The next time Steve comes into the shop, Eddie can smell him first, then he sees his shoes.
"Steven. What can I do for you today?" Eddie teases from under the car.
"You think it's the knot I need or just a big ol' load of alpha come?" Steve asks out of the blue, so fucking bluntly, that Eddie nearly bangs his head on the undercarriage of this car he's working on.
Fuck. Well. That's an image.
"Eddie? Are you listening?" Steve questions.
"I'm listening," Eddie confirms, "I mean. I don't know. Which one is less horrifying to you?"
"Definitely the latter," Steve says, moving to sit down cross-legged by the car. Tilting his whole body nearly in half, so he can see Eddie. "Options I've come up with so far: One-night stand. Hooker. Sperm bank."
Eddie tinkers some more, but isn't really doing shit. He's far too distracted.
"What do you think?"
Eddie swallows, "The last one."
"Yeah, I think so, too."
The universe hates Eddie. Because they are still talking about this.
"The sperm bank said I'm too old, which, rude. I wasn't trying to get pregnant, and I explained that to them," Steve bitches, feet up on Eddie's desk, as he eats his burger. Steve had brought lunch and bad news. "They looked at me like I was some kind of pervert."
"Well, that is rude," Eddie agrees, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.
"I guess I'll have to get black market street sperm," Steve says, and Eddie swallows a bite so big that it scratches his throat, giving him a moment of fear that he's gonna choke to death.
"Don't do that," Eddie quickly says, once he's dislodged it from his throat.
"You have a better idea?" Steve asks.
Well, fuck. If it means they can stop talking about this, Eddie will make a donation to the cause.
"I mean, I could jerk off in a cup. If you want. At least you'll know it's, you know, sanitary," Eddie says, blundering over his words. Sanitary? What the fuck. It's the most insane thing he's ever said, he's certain.
Steve laughs, like he's delighted that Eddie had to force those words out of his mouth. Asshole.
"Sanitary," Steve repeats, taunting him.
"You know what I mean. Don't do anything illegal. That's a bad idea. I've got come. Like, what am I doing with it?"
He sounds like a fucking idiot, but Steve is just staring at him. Looking far too hopeful.
"You really would?"
And even if he knows it's a stupid idea, Eddie nods.
Eddie squeezes his knot, milking another load out of himself into the little plastic cup. This is insanity. Purely chaotic behavior that they're both participating in right now. Eddie has lost his mind right along with Steve.
He draws it up into the baster Steve had given him.
It's still warm when he delivers it to Steve's door. Standing on his porch, waiting for the weirdest hand-off in history.
Steve waves him inside, damp hair plastered to his forehead. Eddie follows, but wasn't prepared for Steve to hike up his leg onto his kitchen chair, sliding the baster up the leg of his shorts, and well. Fuck. Steve's head is tilted back, throat exposed, and Eddie wants to bite.
Eddie wants to bite him more than he's ever wanted to bite anyone. Stupid fucking instincts. They've only ever gotten him into trouble.
He needs to get out of here. The smell of Steve this deep in heat, mixed with the scent of Eddie's own come now coating Steve's insides is too much.
"Better?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods, pulling the plastic out of himself, bringing it to his nose, giving it a sniff, before he licks the end of the empty baster.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Steve," Eddie says, and his dick is rock hard again. He's gotta be too old for that to be the case, at least outside of a rut, but goddamn if it ain't pressing against his zipper painfully right now.
"Figured it couldn't hurt," Steve says. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. See you soon, hopefully," Eddie says, and then rushes out the door, and back across the lawn.
If he jerks off in the garage bathroom like he's a teenager again, that's his own goddamn business.
Steve reports that it helped, but that it was only a temporary improvement. Knot. He needs a knot.
Eddie isn't jealous. He isn't.
Together they look at all the heat services around, trying to find one that seems promising and on the up and up.
Steve has a binder spread out in front of him. Eddie looks over his shoulder. Alphas. Lots and lots of alphas. All vetted. All perfectly safe options.
The best heat service in the state. Expensive. Very expensive.
Eddie hates them all.
"How do I pick one?" Steve asks, thumbing through the pages, like he's disinterested.
"By smell?" Eddie suggests. Eddie thinks that's what you're supposed to do.
Steve scratches at a sticker on the sheet, and Eddie wrinkles his nose. Scratch and sniff alphas. What has the world come to?
"Not that one. Gross," Eddie says, reaching down and flipping the page.
Steve scratches the next one. Worse. It's worse.
"They all smell bad," Steve huffs.
"They can't all smell bad."
"Well, they do!" Steve snaps.
Eddie reaches down and takes the book, flips to the front, and then the back. There. An index. Full of different top notes and the pages they can be found on. Some are obviously far more common than others. There are 24 entries under coffee.
"Cedar?"
"No."
"Whiskey?"
"No."
"Fresh cut grass."
"I'm allergic," Steve says haughtily.
"Well, what smells good to you then, your highness?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks up at him, giving him the look.
Eddie rolls his eyes.
"Well, I'm so sorry my stinky garage notes aren't commonplace," Eddie banters back, and Steve laughs, snatching the book back. Slamming the binder closed, pushing it away.
"I'm not doing this. I don't want to."
Eddie wants to shake him, "Steve. You're gonna hurt yourself."
Steve crosses his arms across his chest, and man, is he a stubborn fucker. He looks like a petulant child, not a middle-aged man with the first streaks of gray in his hair. Eddie's been going gray since he was twenty-two. The stress, Wayne said. Now, his dark hair is peppered with wild, wiry grays that never want to mind.
"What do you want? Me to knot you?" Eddie asks sarcastically.
Steve looks up at him with those big eyes.
Well, shit.
"Steve."
"I mean, ideally, yes. But no means no," Steve repeats back to him. "You've already gone above and beyond. And I'm so grateful. Being friends with you feels like I have an alpha in my corner, without all the stress of finding a mate."
Eddie pulls his hair out of his bun, re-doing it, just for something to do with his hands. He'd do it. Fuck. Of course he'd do it for Steve. He's just scared to death it's gonna ruin the one friendship he has these days. Sure, he has friends. In theory. Out in the world, living their lives. But actively here? Every day? It's just Steve.
And he likes that it's Steve.
"I'm always in your corner," Eddie says.
"I know," Steve answers, with a smile. "Please pick one for me."
Eddie picks up the book, and scans the scents. There's one entry under asphalt.
Eddie flips to that page and hands it over. Steve scratches the sticker, and gets a whiff. It's fine.
"Okay," Steve says. "Number 52 it is."
Eddie sits outside the back side of the garage, smoking a cigarette. He can see Steve's house from here. Mr. Asphalt showed up five minutes ago.
Worry churns in Eddie's gut. He hopes this works out for Steve. That it's a good experience, and that it helps him.
Eddie's stubbing out his cigarette when he hears Steve's screen door snap closed.
Mr. Asphalt is walking back across the lawn, and pulling away. That was fast. Too fast.
Steve comes down the steps as soon as he's gone, and Eddie slinks back into the shop, so he won't be caught spying.
When Steve appears in the open overhead door, Eddie plasters on a fake smile, "Well?"
Steve shakes his head, and Eddie feels relief, and then feels guilty about that.
"No?" Eddie asks.
"No," Steve confirms.
"We'll find a different one," Eddie suggests.
Steve shakes his head, "No. I'll be okay. I'm not doing that again."
And there's no way Eddie can make him.
Steve picks up a socket wrench, and flips it in his hand. Over and over. A nervous habit. He'll fiddle with anything, Eddie's found.
"I'll do it," slips out, Eddie's mouth betraying him.
Steve stills. Staring him down.
"If you want me to. I'd do it. For you."
"I want you to," Steve says quietly.
Eddie nods.
However, Eddie cannot in good conscience go through with this without coming totally clean with all his darkest secrets. All those binder alphas have been thoroughly background checked. Eddie hasn't.
He wouldn't pass one, if he was.
"I'm an ex-con," Eddie blurts out. "I did two years in my early twenties. I'm not dangerous."
Steve just nods along, non-plussed. Eddie doesn't get him. He really doesn't.
"Okay," Steve says.
"Okay?" Eddie questions.
"I know you're not dangerous, Eddie. I do know you. We've spent months getting to know each other. Anything that happened in the past doesn't change how I feel about the version of you I've gotten to know. And, for the record, I've never felt safer with anyone else in my entire life."
Eddie swallows.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Steve asks. "You don't have to."
And, yeah, Eddie does.
"I'm my father's son," Eddie says, "even if I swore I'd never be. I was so cocky about it. That I'd never wind up in prison like him. And yet," Eddie says, looking down. "I had an omega that I really loved, and we wanted to get mated. At least I thought so. My omega's ex-boyfriend had an issue with that. He made sure I got pinched for dealing. A set-up. I sold weed to an undercover cop. They said it was within 500 feet of a public park. I couldn't even see it around the corner. I fucked up."
"I'm sorry," Steve says, stepping closer, fingers brushing against Eddie's tattooed neck. Eddie had done everything he could to keep people away from him after he got out, and yet. Here's Steve.
"I fucked up. I've never forgiven myself for becoming just like my old man instead of like Wayne. I've tried hard to fix that since I got paroled. I'm done. Free and clear, now. Have been for a long time. But it was rough. I couldn't get a job. But I had to have a job for my parole to not get revoked. So, Wayne quit his union job. Cashed out his retirement, and bought this garage."
Eddie gets choked up just thinking about it, let alone talking about it.
Steve is looking in his eyes, right up close. It's kind of intense. Still, Eddie needs to continue.
"We made it work. And those four years were hard," Eddie says with a sigh, "I think the two in prison were easier. You can't convince yourself you're free on the inside. Outside, though? It was just an illusion. I was searched all the time. They wanted to find something. Anything. To send me back. He still had connections, and a vendetta against me. All for falling in love with someone who was never really mine in the first place."
Steve presses his nose into Eddie's neck, and Eddie's hand finds Steve's back, clutching.
"You don't realize how much freedom you have until you're subjected to warrantless searches all the goddamn time for years, at all hours of the day and night."
Steve rumbles against Eddie's chest, throwing off a calming scent that Eddie soaks up, greedily.
"After four years of going from home to the garage and back again, and that's basically it, it was a habit. And I never changed it."
"Understandable," Steve says, cheek brushing Eddie's neck.
"I just wanted to be left alone," Eddie admits.
"And then here I came to bother you," Steve says, fingers grazing the other side of Eddie's neck.
"And then here you came to show me that letting people in isn't so bad," Eddie corrects.
"Mmm," Steve hums against Eddie's neck, sending vibrations through his body, straight to his dick.
"So, if none of that scares you—"
"—it doesn't," Steve interrupts, and his scent says that's true. One of them is distressed right now, and it's not Steve. "Take me home."
"But you're not…" Eddie starts, but he is. He always is. There's constant heat around the edges of Steve's scent, and Eddie shouldn't at all be surprised by that by now.
Eddie takes Steve's hand in his own, and doesn't let go, even as he has to lock up the shop one-handed.
They're doing this.
Steve's body is unreal. Eddie's never seen an omega like him before. Solid, hairy. Honestly more hairy than Eddie's ever dreamed of being. He's an omega, but still extremely masculine in a way that Eddie is definitely digging. Thick thighs that have wrapped themselves around Eddie's hips. Squeezing.
Splayed against the bedding, Steve looks more at peace than Eddie's ever seen him. Eddie runs his hands over Steve's warm, too warm, chest.
"You sure you still want this?" Eddie asks, sweating dripping down his brow. He's showing restraint. "With me?"
He's nervous.
It's not that he's never done this, it's just been a while, and Steve's never. There's pressure to perform, to get it right.
Pressure to hope that this will actually help Steve, and not just be a bad idea that they dove headfirst into together too fast.
Steve nods, breathing ragged, throwing off so much horny scent that Eddie's drunk on it. On him.
Eddie's let someone in again, and he's terrified. They haven't discussed this enough. Eddie knows that. He's doing it anyway, and if he gets burned again, well, fuck.
"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, nudging the head of his cock against Steve's opening. Easily sliding into Steve. He's so slick, so open and ready, that Eddie groans at the sensation. Steve clutches at him, bearing down, as he makes a noise that should make Eddie come immediately. Somehow, he doesn't. That's a minor miracle. But he knows it's not gonna take long. Age, be damned.
Eddie tries to rein himself in as he's thrusting deeper, once, twice, but doesn't take much longer before he's feeling his knot start to catch. He'd be more embarrassed if it didn't feel so good.
Steve keens, squirming, lifting his ass off the bed.
"Sorry, this is so fast," Eddie apologizes, and Steve makes a dismissive noise. "Not a great first experience, I know. Last chance to back out."
"God, no. Fuck. Just do it," Steve whines, and fuck. Eddie's gonna.
Eddie's knot pops past Steve's rim one more time, and that's it. Locked into place, Eddie comes harder than he can ever remember coming in his whole fucking life. Steve's leaning forward, arms wound around Eddie's neck, pulling him close, as Steve mouths at Eddie's neck. Smelling. Tasting.
Blunt teeth grazing Eddie's mating gland.
They are playing with fire here, but maybe they always have been, Eddie realizes.
Eddie comes again, body spasming as Steve clenches around him, pulsing. Steve's so tight. Eddie's instincts are to bite him, to claim him, to keep him forever. He won't, but he's not gonna make it out of this without some additional damage.
Just what he needs. More of that.
Steve's fever breaks, and he's soaked. Trembling, and Eddie pulls him close. He's cooler than he's ever felt any time Eddie's ever touched him. Maybe he has always been running a low-grade fever. Fuck, that'd be awful.
"That's it, sweat it out," Eddie whispers, brushing his lips against Steve's forehead.
The next round is more comfortable, and Eddie tries to shove back the feeling that they are having actual sex here. This time isn't as urgent, it's just learning to move with each other. And they move together damn good.
Steve's no shrinking violet. Not that Eddie really thought he was, but he's an active participant, as into this as Eddie is, and that just fuels the fire burning inside Eddie.
Round three is filthy, Steve running his mouth about getting bred. It should terrify Eddie. It doesn't. It won't happen, they've likely missed their window for that happening on its own by years, even without all the issues Steve's reproductive system clearly has.
Eddie's okay with that. He's never felt the urge to have pups of his own. He's always been far too scared he'd repeat the cycle again.
Steve whines loudly as Eddie eats him out. Steve riding his face, Eddie with two fingers buried in Steve's cunt. The amount of slick might drown him, but at least he'd die happy. Steve's clutching at the headboard, grinding down, and when he comes, the extra slick he releases coats Eddie's face.
Steve pulls up and Eddie licks his lips, still holding onto Steve's thighs.
He's never had sex like this. Not even close. How the fuck was Steve not locked down by someone in the past twenty years? It's absurd. Any alpha worth a damn should trip over their own knot just for the chance to worship Steve.
Steve crawls off, and flops next to Eddie, and Eddie reaches down and takes his hand into his own.
Steve's heat has broken. Honest to god, broken. For the first time since Eddie's known him. Eddie feels relief for him as they rock together one more time. Because they want to. He smells different, and Eddie almost feels like he's meeting Steve for the very first time.
Eddie's knot catches, and they're tied together once more.
Steve turns his head, nudging his neck towards Eddie's mouth. Eddie runs his tongue over the swollen gland, and Steve sighs. His scent is still heavy, but much less horny.
It smells a lot like pack.
Like love.
As if Eddie's found a home again.
Eddie moves to suck on the swollen bulge, and it bursts in his mouth. Eddie freezes. He wasn't anywhere close to biting him.
"I'm sorry," Steve says, fingers pressing into Eddie's back, like he's scared Eddie's about to bolt. How? They're tied together. And what the fuck is he sorry about? This is on Eddie. Maybe he was being too rough. Too careless.
Eddie needs to spit or swallow, and he can't exactly ask Steve which he prefers. He pulls back and meets Steve's eyes. Trying to find out what he should do, what Steve wants him to do. If he spits it out, if he doesn't follow up on the broken gland with a bite, it will likely eventually heal.
They do get broken sometimes. Accidents happen, sexual or otherwise.
Or, he can swallow, bite him, and complete the bond.
"I want you," Steve admits, like it costs him a lot, eyes big and damp, "but I know you said you don't want a mate. No means no. Spit it out."
Eddie growls, a low rumble in his chest. All Eddie wants is Steve. He's just fucking terrified of that. But now he's far more terrified of not having him.
Steve's eyes fall soft and hooded. He touches Eddie's cheek. "Okay. I hear you, honey. Alpha. Yes. Swallow."
That's all Eddie needs. He swallows, then tilts Steve's neck and bites him. For real, and with purpose. Steve keens, clamping down on Eddie's knot, making Eddie come again.
Eddie runs his hand over Steve's hair, over his face, thumb brushing his damp cheek. Eddie presses his own cheek to Steve's, sure his own is wet, too.
Then, Eddie pulls back, tilting his head to the side. Offering. It's not needed for the bond to take. Most alphas don't want marked up like that. Eddie's not most alphas, and thinks it can only make their bond stronger if Steve wants to bite him back.
Steve sinking his teeth into Eddie's neck sends a flood of relief through Eddie's system. A release of tension he didn't even know he was holding, has maybe always been holding.
He comes again. Into his omega. Into his mate.
Steve is his, for real. Forever. And he is Steve's.
Eddie never thought he'd be anybody's anything.
"That's it, sweetheart," Eddie says, throat working hard around the words, still feeling Steve's teeth clamped down, "Make me yours."
Steve growls.
Unconventional, most definitely. Eddie smiles.
Steve is latched on pretty good, and Eddie refuses to rush him.
They've got all the time in the world now.
One Year Later
Eddie changes the rim on a car that drove a little too far on a flat tire. The whole place stinks of burnt rubber.
Until it doesn't. He smells Steve before he sees him.
"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie calls out, and Steve walks his way. Leaning down to kiss him.
Steve moves around the shop with confidence now. Waiting on customers of all kinds, taking on a huge share of the business end of the garage. Wayne was relieved. One, that Steve was real, and good, and not just more trouble knocking at Eddie's door demanding to be let in.
But also for the help. He needed it. The bookkeeping is not Eddie's thing, but Steve's good at it. He's already collected on some overdue accounts, just using his blunt directness. Eddie's impressed.
Steve Harrington takes no shit. Not from Eddie, and not from the customers. Not now that his heats have leveled out to a very normal amount for an omega his age.
And Eddie knows without a doubt that while they were both scared to jump into this thing, because the baggage they've both carried around for decades is heavy and cumbersome, that they made the right decision. Together.
Eddie has a mate.
He has Steve.
And he loves Steve, just how he is. There's no box Eddie would ever want to shove him into. This is the omega he wants. Loves. The one that's perfectly Steve, just as he is.
Eddie's happy. It's weird, still foreign and novel. That he's allowed himself to be happy with Steve, guilt-free. The past, the past. The future, wide open.
As Uncle Wayne would say, good things come to those who wait.
Bingo Card: 1990s || Prompt: Free Space (Tracy Chapman) | Song: Fast Car | Word Count: 4377 | Rating: E | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Smokey and the Bandit Inspired, Road Trip, Trucking, Corroded Coffin Boys, Schemin' and Dreamin', Strangers to Lovers, Meet Cute, Love at First Sight, Happy Ending
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"This is a bad idea," Gareth says, arms crossed tight against his chest.
Yeah, well. Most of Eddie's ideas are bad. Nothing is new about that. At least this one has the promise of a pot of gold at the end of the stupidity.
Eddie splays the map out on the table, smoothing his hands over it, trying to work out the wrinkles. "Just look at the route. It's doable. And think of the money. It's a lot of money. Record an album money. New guitar money."
"Quit our jobs money," Goodie adds. "Or, at least take a sabbatical."
Jeff is being quiet, but Eddie expected nothing less. Jeff will hear the pitch, let Eddie sell the idea, fair and square. He always does. No matter how outlandish the proposal.
Eddie points at where they are, as if these chuckleheads don't already know, and then traces his finger towards Washington. Through Illinois and Missouri. Up through Nebraska, South Dakota, and then they'd head on west. Goodie, Jeff and Gareth all have trucks. They've been long-hauling for a few years, after Wayne got them into it. A way to make good money. The trade-off is that they just aren't home a lot, and that kind of sucks for Eddie.
Eddie wasn't interested in driving a truck. He's not the best driver, historically. A 40 ton truck seemed like a bad idea. That, and they wouldn't give him a CDL after he flunked the test three times.
But he didn't want to do it anyway. Honest.
"We can do it in about 72 hours, if we haul ass," Eddie says. "You two in your trucks. Gareth and I, running blocker."
Goodie scoffs, "You're overestimating how fast our rigs can roll, Ed. Maybe you two can run it in three days in your four wheelers. But I'm doubting even that. Your van isn't exactly a sports car. And we all know the El Camino is a piece of shit."
"Hey!" Gareth snaps, offended. Goodie's not wrong. That car of his will top out at 90 on a good day. And its good days are far behind it.
So, Goodie's got them there.
Gareth and Goodie keep bickering, and Eddie finally waves his hands in the air, trying to get the room back under control.
"We'll be traffickers," Jeff says, finally speaking once order is somewhat restored. He's not wrong. It's a lot of weed.
They've never done anything this risky.
"This isn't Smokey and the Bandit, you know that, right? This isn't a movie. We shouldn't run too hot. That's just asking for trouble. Prison trouble," Jeff adds. "Nobody's just gonna watch us drive away, scot-free, in the end if they catch wind of what we're doing."
Reefer Rick is gonna want it delivered fast, he's never been the most patient of men, but he's also gonna want to get it without it being seized somewhere in the middle nowhere more.
"Faster on the way up while we're empty, and then slower on the way home when we're loaded," Eddie concedes, and they all nod in agreement.
That will help, but it's still a risk they're taking.
"Wayne might shake the trees for us," Eddie suggests, because Eddie bets he would for a small cut of the product. He's an old hippie at heart. Definitely isn't a drug runner of any sort, and Eddie wouldn't ask him to start now, but smoking grass is something Eddie came by honestly. Wayne would probably try to keep them out of trouble. He's done that for Eddie as long as Eddie can remember.
"Yeah, a decoy on the way back might be handy if we're about to get pinched, we can use him to pull focus," Goodie suggests, and yeah. They definitely could. A speeding ticket ain't nothing on a trafficking charge.
"Okay, so if we can do it in four days, we're still good, right?" Eddie asks, and they all kind of murmur in a not entirely convinced fashion. Oh, they're good.
They aren't good. Goodie and Jeff are out ahead in their trucks, and Eddie's supposed to be running lead blocker, and well, now he's sitting on the side of the road with the van rolling smoke out from under the hood. Fuck.
This was not the smoking they were hoping for when they started this run. He should have known it wasn't going to go smoothly. Nothing ever does for them.
Gareth slows, and Eddie waves him on, picking up the mic of his CB radio before they get too far out of range, "Uh. It's Banished. Keep going. I've just got a little delay."
Goodie cusses him when he comes through, but he'll be fine. Gareth's still running with them. Wayne's supposed to rendezvous with them in Omaha. Eddie'll just have to catch up, somehow.
Eddie can see the nearest town, and he starts walking, hoping for a mechanic's shop on the outskirts. A draggin' wagon. Anything. Instead, he sees a black sports car sitting on the front lawn of a house. A Trans Am, with a hastily handwritten 'for sale' sign in the window and 'best offer' on the windshield.
It's beautiful, and it looks fast.
Plus, it has an antenna on top, so clearly there's a CB already inside. Perfect.
Peeking in the driver's side window, the odometer is low. Low, low. There's no way he can afford this car, but it's exactly what he needs. His best offer can be a charming smile. He walks up and knocks on the door.
The guy that answers is in a polo shirt, all tucked in, neat and tidy. He doesn't at all look like he belongs in that car. Eddie looks to his left. This guy definitely belongs in the executive BMW that's sitting in the driveway.
"You here about the car?" the guy asks, and Eddie nods.
Then he leans over, grabbing a set of keys off the table, and giving them a toss to Eddie. Closing his front door behind him, "Test drive?"
Eddie nods dumbly. He doesn't really have time to bullshit around, but the car is gorgeous and the guy is stunning, and well, the other guys can surely handle this until he can catch up. Ten extra minutes won't hurt. He's already late.
He watches the guy unlatch the removable t-top panels from both doors, stowing them in the trunk. That's a neat trick.
"I'm Steve," he says, holding out his hand for Eddie.
Eddie grips it, giving it a firm shake, "Eddie."
"Let's take her for a spin," Steve offers, and Eddie isn't going to turn that down, no way in hell.
He peels out of the driveway, and Steve doesn't chastise him. Instead, he laughs, throwing both of his hands up in the air. Like he's having fun. If Steve enjoys this feeling, this rush, shouldn't he just keep the car?
Eddie wants to show off, and wishes this hot rod had four on the floor, but has to settle for just buzzing around an old man out for Sunday drive on this sleepy town's empty main street.
When Steve smiles at him, Eddie can no longer try to make sense of this. Because, oh, Eddie's gonna be in trouble with this one. Fuck the car. He just may want to keep Steve.
Eddie opens it up on the highway. It is fast, and the wind is blowing in both of their hair. Steve is giggling beside him, like he's delighted, and Eddie can't help staring at him.
He's gorgeous. All that hair, and those moles. Preppy or not, he's definitely Eddie's type. He doesn't know whose type he wouldn't be, though.
"You wanna go on a little adventure?" Eddie suddenly asks, because he can't think of a better shotgun rider to have with him for these next few days. He's pleasantly surprised when Steve laughs some more, like Eddie's crazy, but in a good way. There's a difference, and Eddie's learned it well over the years. He can easily determine if he's been laughed at or laughed with.
Steve's laughing with him, absolutely.
"Where to?"
"Washington state."
Steve seems to contemplate it, as though he's running through his schedule, trying to figure out what thing, if any, is holding him back.
Eddie waits.
And waits.
Finally, Steve smiles, "Best offer I've gotten on it yet. Put the hammer down."
"So, what's the deal with this car?" Eddie asks. It's nice. Hell, it's practically brand new. And Steve's letting Eddie drive it like he stole it.
"It belonged to my ex. He was an asshole. I ditched him, but since I paid for the car, it was mine, and I just wanted it gone. Of course, I didn't assume I'd go with it," Steve says, giving Eddie a soft smile.
"Glad you did," Eddie answers, meaning every word. This is a good car, but Steve's great company.
"How long until we catch up to your friends?" Steve asks, looking over at Eddie.
"Shit," Eddie says, "They probably got an hour out on me. If they're running sixty, we should catch up in two hours. Every five miles faster they're going, add an hour?" Eddie guesses. He thinks that math is basically right. He figures they could catch up in as little as two hours or as many as four.
"Are you a genius or what?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs.
"Hardly. Unless geniuses take three times to graduate high school."
"But you did that math in your head?" Steve questions.
"That math benefits me. I can only learn about what interests me," Eddie says, looking in Steve's direction. Steve seems to understand what he means.
"So, we'll catch up in a few hours?" Steve asks.
They're supposed to stop in Omaha to meet up with Wayne. Eddie figures that'll be where he catches up to them, at the latest.
"Faster if we hurry," Eddie says.
"I'm not opposed to a little hurrying," Steve says.
Eddie puts his foot down, ready to see what she can really do. And do, she can.
"Holy shit, is this not governed?" Eddie asks, looking over at Steve.
"He had it removed, I think. Just don't wrap us around a tree, okay?" Steve says.
"I won't, sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes. It's endearing.
The universe has never been overly kind to Eddie, but maybe, just maybe, Steve was put in his path to make up for all that.
And so, Eddie keeps speeding along until he hears a report of a Smokey ahead, and eases back off. When they pass the car on the side of the road, partially hidden by some bushes, Eddie's going a respectable five under the speed limit like a perfect angel.
Steve reaches over and squeezes Eddie's thigh, laughing wildly, like they really got away with something, and Eddie is definitely in trouble.
"The Great, you got your ears on? This is The Banished. Over," Eddie says into the mic. Waiting. He's not sure if he's close enough to them yet to be heard.
But a few seconds later, the radio crackles to life, "That's a big 10-4. You finally got that hunk-a-junk running?"
Eddie laughs, "Just give me your mile marker, smart-ass."
They're six miles ahead. Eddie will come up knocking on their backdoors soon enough.
Eddie presses his foot to the ground, moving the needle even further to the right.
"Why are they calling you The Banished?" Steve asks.
"It's my handle. We've all got 'em. The Duke, The Great, The Freak, The Old Man."
"Your uncle doesn't get mad that you call him an old man?"
Eddie's laugh is a loud bark.
"I mean, he might. But he's The Duke. You know, 'cause his name is Wayne. Jeff's our Old Man."
Steve smiles, "Is Jeff old?"
"Nah, younger than me. He's just old at heart. Normal kinda guy surrounded by a bunch of chuckleheads," Eddie says fondly.
Then, he has an idea.
"You know, you probably need a handle yourself, now that you're coming along on the road."
Steve's eyes are wide with what appears to be realization.
"Oooh, you just thought of what it should be," Eddie accuses, "Tell me. Tell me. Tell me."
"No," Steve says.
"Steven…" Eddie says, hedging a guess that that's probably his full name. But he doesn't know his last name. Steve helpfully provides it.
"Harrington."
"Steven Harrington, what were you thinking?"
Steve tilts his head back against the headrest, "You'll never get it out of me."
Oh, the hell he won't. Eddie loves a challenge.
Eddie lets up on the gas, just a little. Keeping Steve to himself a little longer doesn't sound so bad.
They're gonna catch them, and soon, he doesn't need to be a show off to do it.
Well, maybe a little bit of a show off.
He spots them up ahead, and puts the hammer back down, weaving around them, then pulling alongside Gareth, matching his pace.
Gareth looks over, sees Steve, and flips them off.
Eddie picks up the mic, pressing the button, "Now, now, The Great. That isn't very nice."
Gareth looks again, and Eddie throws his hand up out of the open top, flipping him off.
"Fucking hell, Banished, where'd you get the car and The Hair?"
They both laugh. But Steve laughs harder and longer.
"What?" Eddie asks.
"So, funny thing. In high school? They called me Steve "The Hair" Harrington and that's what I thought of when you asked me."
Eddie cackles. It's so perfect he should have thought of it himself. But unfortunately for Eddie, a bunch of high schoolers, and Gareth, beat him to the punch. Still, he loves it. It's fitting, as the best call names are.
Eddie doesn't answer Gareth, just zooms ahead, slotting into the convoy in front of Jeff.
"Was that Banished in that hot rod?" Goodie asks.
Eddie presses the talk button, "Don't you worry about it, Freak."
"Goddammit," Goodie says across the crackly speaker, and Eddie just laughs.
They're not far outside of Omaha. There's a truck stop ahead where Wayne should already be waiting. Or soon to be arriving.
Gareth and Goodie are fighting over the radio. Eddie feels sorry for everyone listening to their channel. It's just nonsense, and has to be annoying for anyone listening.
"Freak, you leave him alone," a voice comes across, and Eddie grins.
"Never," Goodie answers.
"Shut up, Goods," Gareth says, so flustered he reverted to Goodie's regular shortened name, and not his handle. Then, Gareth's voice changes, "Dirty Di, you still ready and willing for us to make a stop?" Gareth asks, flirting with her like he always does. Steve cuts Eddie a look.
"You know it, darlin'," she replies, then adds, "The Duke is waiting."
And that's excellent. They are running on schedule. Then it's blissfully peaceful on the radio for the first time since Eddie caught up with the convoy.
"Diana picks up shifts at the truck stop up ahead. For some reason, she's taken a shine to Gareth. None of us can explain it," Eddie says.
Steve just laughs.
Eddie makes all the introductions to Steve, and Wayne is looking at him like he's no damn fool. He can read Eddie like an open book.
Oh well.
Eddie doesn't mind. He'll take a ration of shit about Steve. He's got Steve in the car with him. He wins. Hands down.
They all stretch their legs, get a bite to eat, Gareth disappears into the employee's only bathroom for a bit, and then they get right back on the road.
Steve sleeps in the passenger seat, and Eddie can't help but sneak looks at him when passing cars illuminate the interior of the car. He really is pretty. And for some reason, he was willing to trust Eddie enough to skip town with him. No real questions asked.
When the sun comes up, they stop at a choke and puke for a quick bite to go, and Eddie has a breakfast biscuit in one hand, his other on the wheel as they haul ass. He keeps his eyes peeled, and his ears on, making sure they don't get pinched by a county mountie looking to make his quota.
Eddie's mouth is full, chewing, when Steve speaks, "So, you ever gonna tell me what we're going after?"
He takes the time to swallow. Buying himself a little extra time.
"Uh, you sure you wanna know?" Eddie questions. He doesn't have to get involved more than he already is.
Steve looks at him like he's an idiot, "Uh, duh. Of course."
"Weed," Eddie admits, "and lots of it."
Steve doesn't seem phased. "Oh. That's cool."
That's very cool indeed.
Pulling up to the farm in Washington is an experience. They are waiting on them, and usher them to the loading area, where it all happens so fucking fast after that. Box after box full of plastic bags. It's professional and orderly, something none of them are. Eddie's never had anything run this smoothly. It's almost scary.
The trucks are loaded, in the most efficient way Eddie's ever seen. The money is exchanged, and Eddie shakes hands. Then, it's time to run it all back home.
Easy as pie.
Except, halfway home, Goodie gets pulled over alongside the road, the lights flashing behind his truck. The rest of the convoy is waved to the shoulder as well.
Well, fuck. He knew they'd been far too lucky so far.
Eddie isn't sure what their play is, but he doesn't have time to think about it. Steve gets out, and stands by the back of Goodie's truck, hands on his hips.
The small town cop approaches, looking flummoxed.
"You're not supposed to get out of your car?" he says, voice lilting up like it's a question.
"Just what are we doing? He wasn't speeding," Steve demands. And Goodie wasn't. None of them were. They were all being perfect angels.
Smokey straightens up, stopping in front of Steve.
"And who are you?" he asks.
Steve holds out his hand, "Steve Roebuck."
"As in…?"
"Exactly. My grandfather started it, god rest his soul. But right now my father left me in charge of getting this purchase order to Hoffman in," Steve says, looking down at his watch, "four hours. My father will lose his mind if I'm late. This is my last strike. So, if we could hurry this up. Do you need to see inside?" Steve asks.
Then, Steve bends down, hand curling into the back handle of the trailer, looking up at the cop. Challenging him to call Steve's bluff. Holy shit.
They stare at each other, and Steve starts pulling up the gate. They did put some of Wayne's load at the back of each truck, but if they probe further than a glance, things are gonna go south. Fast.
The cop folds, "No, it's fine. It was just a little suspicious. This convoy. I mean, even blinkers were being used."
Steve slams the door shut, flipping the handle, latching it again. Laughing along with the cop, smiling a charming as fuck smile. Like he's cool as fucking cucumber.
"The Sears family takes safety very seriously. And, sure. Everybody has a Smokey and the Bandit fantasy from time to time. But, this is just boring business. If you want some free tools, just give me your card. I'll ship you a whole crate of Craftsman. Lifetime warranty. You'd be set."
The cop laughs, "I'm not supposed to take anything. Bribes, you know."
Steve just smiles coyly, like he's flirting without actually flirting. It's honestly kind of impressive to see him turn on that kind of charm, instantaneously.
Then, he tells the cop, "No bribe here. Who's in trouble? Not us. And who's gonna tell? Not me."
And while the two of them are having a grand old time, Eddie's certain he's sweated through his t-shirt. The cop fishes out his card, and writes an address on the back. Steve takes it, and puts it in his wallet with a nod.
"Okay, boys! Let's roll!" Steve yells, and walks towards the driver's side of the Trans Am. Eddie scrambles over the console and flops into the passenger seat. Making a big show of tugging his seatbelt over his shoulder. If Steve wants to drive, he's earned it.
They all pull away from the shoulder, and as Steve passes Goodie's truck, he sticks his arm out of the car, pumping his arm. Goodie complies, laying on the horn.
And then, they're off again.
"Are you really part of the Sears family?" Eddie asks a little later.
Steve giggles, loud and wild, "Nope."
Oh. Eddie wants him. Eddie needs him. Eddie leans over and cups Steve's crotch with one hand, and picks up the mic with the other. "Keep going. We'll be right behind you."
Goodie just groans in disgust over the radio. Fair enough.
Steve pulls them off on a dirt road, and once they're hidden behind a row of trees, Eddie leans over and starts fiddling with the button of Steve's jeans. He's gonna suck his dick so good for keeping them all out of prison.
Oh, fuck yes.
His dick is as beautiful as he is, and Eddie relishes sliding his mouth against Steve's warm skin, Steve's hand resting on the back of his head. Head tossed back against the headrest, moaning the same way that Eddie feels.
Eddie's got his mouth, and one hand on Steve, and his other hand down his own jeans, working them both over until he comes in his own hand and Steve comes in his mouth.
Eddie pulls back, slumping into his seat, breathing hard. Steve's pulling his own hair upward in a way that only makes him look hotter, and Eddie has a handful of come and nowhere to go with it.
Steve reaches in the backseat and grabs a plain white tee, handing it over. Eddie wipes his hand, "Thanks for donating your shirt to the cause."
"Wasn't mine," Steve says, and Eddie laughs at the implication. So far, by Eddie's math, Eddie has taken possession of his car, his guy, and now his shirt. Steve's ex really got the shaft. Good.
They both straighten their clothes back up, and Steve asks, "You gonna kiss me?"
Fuck yes, Eddie's gonna kiss him. He just got the cart a little before the horse. Who could blame him?
Eddie plants his hand on the console, pushing himself over into Steve's personal space, slotting their mouths together in a kiss that would curl Eddie's toes if he hadn't just blown his load.
When Eddie pulls back, Steve smiles, "You wanna drive now?"
"Not unless you don't want to," Eddie says, and Steve shrugs. Turning the ignition back over, and peeling out, kicking up gravel.
"You really aren't the best driver," Steve says, but he's smiling.
"Took you long enough to figure that out," Eddie banters back, resting his hand high up on Steve's thigh, blunt fingernails grazing denim.
A little later, they pull back out onto the highway, and Steve looks over, declaring, "We'll catch them in thirty minutes."
Eddie smiles. They won't. Steve's math is bad, but Eddie couldn't give a flying fuck, especially not after that.
When they do catch up nearly an hour later, they buzz around, and retake their spot in the convoy.
"You get your snake charmed?" Gareth asks over the radio, and Eddie laughs.
"That's a big 10-4, good buddy."
The rest of the trip is uneventful, and Eddie just sits back and watches Steve drive. When they roll back through Steve's hometown, Eddie gets a little tense. Steve just keeps driving. They pass the van outside of town that they'll have to deal with later, but Steve's seeing it through.
Eddie couldn't be more happy.
He reaches over and squeezes Steve's thigh, and the smile Steve gives him is a heartstopper.
They drop Jeff off at the house, their own personal load secure with him, and take what Reefer Rick ordered up out to the lake. They unload it fast, get the rest of the money they were owed, and that's that.
Job over.
Eddie drives them back to the house, and Steve climbs out, looking around at his new surroundings.
"So, this is where we live?"
"We?" Eddie asks, amused. Steve's crazy. Batshit fucking crazy.
Eddie loves crazy.
What doesn't kill him, only makes him stronger and more annoying.
"Yep. Home sweet home."
Steve nods like he approves, then looks over at Eddie, "So, is there a Sears around in this town? I made a promise."
Eddie chuckles, "You're not seriously gonna follow through on that, right?"
"I said I would, and hell, he was cool enough to not cause us any trouble. I can buy some tools. I haven't quit yet. I've still got my employee discount."
Eddie looks at him, "You work at Sears?"
"With my best friend. She's gonna be super mad that I up and disappeared without a word, so buckle up for that."
Eddie shakes his head. Life's gonna be more interesting with Steve around, that's for damn sure.
A few weeks later, the van has been towed back home, Steve has moved in, and Robin's mad, but settled into a rental house a few blocks away. Eddie has learned they are a matched set: do not separate. They haven't had jobs that weren't working together since they were teenagers.
The next order of business was taking the car into the body shop. Eddie has them put the gold Screaming Eagle decal on the hood, a nod to their adventure, as well as both of their handles on the doors.
"The Banished" and "The Hair" in gold lettering on each door, glimmering as they catch the warm sunshine.
Eddie wheels it out onto the street, and finds Steve waiting along the curb. He holds out his thumb, and Eddie tosses his head back, laughing. Steve hops in, smiling about the new decals, and Eddie heads for the highway.
The wind whips through the car as Steve laughs, hands raised over his head. Delighted and delightful.
Eddie is grateful for that run, the best one he's ever had, with the richest payoff he could have ever imagined.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
Notes: Nancy wouldn't let Steve turn on his, like, charm — but Eddie was more than happy to let him cook. 🤣
Sears was headquartered outside Chicago at Hoffman Estates. Steve really paid attention to the employee training video.
Maybe it’s because I have camp counselors on the brain (thank you @rabidaly ), but this actually starts as a prank bit.
Harrington goes for a morning swim in the camp lake at the, like, the ungodly hour of 4AM—which Eddie only notices because he ends up not sleeping two weeks into the counselor gig, too busy hyper fixated on a song to notice the moving night sky.
And he’s been fine so far, Harrington has. A little uptight and too rules oriented to Eddie’s liking, but everyone usually is for Eddie. So he’s not sure what compels him to do it that first morning.
Maybe it’s the part where Harrington’s movement is disturbing an otherwise quiet ecosystem. Or the part where Eddie can see one of his sneakers haphazardly kicked off on the dock, a shoe lace dangling over the edge.
Or maybe it’s because when they were in the sixth and eighth grade, respectively, Steve Harrington got put in time out with him at recess. He wore his dumb little polos and his cheeks were tear stained from pleasing his case to the recess monitor Ms Meyers, and his dusty face was turned up towards the sun and Eddie, who was so angry at the world it sometimes felt like he would explode, had a moment of brief and impossible relief, staring at the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.
But that boy had opened one eye from where he was soaking up the sun, peaked over at Eddie, and demanded, “What are you looking at, freak?”
So now Eddie is a grown ass man, less angry but certainly never calm, and before he even realizes what’s happening—he’s tearing his shirt off and throwing it on Harrington’s pile of clothes, snatching up the very sensible plain white t-shirt for his ratty, ripped up Dio one.
And it’s not like Eddie does it every morning—he likes sleeping too much for that— but he does it regularly enough. Steve never, ever says anything to him (it’s pretty apparent whose shirts they are, after all) and Eddie isn’t sure why he keeps doing it. Until, of course, he realizes what the real problem is one fateful morning:
Eddie runs out of band t-shirts well before Steve runs out of his little preppy boy outfits. He’s yet to see Harrington actually wearing one of his shirts at breakfast, something that’s making the back of his brain itch something awful.
So his options are to go to breakfast shirtless (impossible, he has too many tattoos that will attract too many questions from curious gremlins), or to choose between white t-shirt or blue and white striped polo. And Eddie is nothing if not committed to a bit, so polo it is.
And it’s only then, when Steve spots him from across the room being all but swallowed by a cocoon of collar and stripes and prep—that Steve finally breaks.
He saunters over with a little smirk on his face that Eddie wants to smack off (in a not at all sexy way thank you very much) and looks down at where Eddie is picking at his pancakes in shame.
“Hey Munson, looking a little different today.” And his voice is teasing, but not mean, and Eddie feels insane.
“You want some help with styling that shirt better?”
Eddie stares up at him with wide eyes and nods.
Steve smirks, winks at Eddie in a way that makes his jaw DROP, and tells him, “Come by my cabin tonight, then, big boy.”
His voice was flat, unimpressed, the barest hitch to it that no one would ever catch.
Steve just grinned, kept tracing his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand, figure-8s around the knuckles, the barest trace of maddening pressure that made Eddie's throat click around a swallow.
"Eddie," Steve said, solemnly, a tiny quirk of a grin hidden at the edge of his mouth.
"Hospital hand-holding," Eddie said, going for his most maddeningly pedantic, "is for coma patients and grandparents. Siblings, possibly. Spouses, I'll allow."
The grin wasn't hidden any more, curling Steve's mouth up into something indescribably soft. Eddie'd look away, look at the damp-stained ceiling, if that didn't feel like admitting defeat.
"So more than friends, is what you're telling me," Steve said, squeezing Eddie's hand a little tighter. Eddie had to bite back a soft noise - almost managed it, too.
"Are we even- " Eddie started, then redirected, to avoid the line forming between Steve's eyebrows. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"You got a problem with me holding your hand, Munson?" Steve asked, leaning in too close, his grin lost to the brightness of his hazel eyes, his weight leaning on the bed sheets and pulling them tight against -
Eddie failed at biting back a noise again. Closed his eyes as Steve looked down.
"Look," Eddie said, shake in his voice, hopelessness in his tone, "look this is progress, okay?"
"I guess boners require blood pressure," Steve said, his tone a little off.
"It's not my fault you're some kind of fairytale hero," Eddie said helplessly. "I can't help it if my dick's kind of in love with you now."
A pause, then another tightening of Steve's fingers.
"Just your dick?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that sounded like it wanted to be hope.
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