Steve learns how to crochet mostly to cope with the stress of feeling responsible for the safety and wellbeing of so many kids who never seem to want to listen to him.
The first person to find out about this secret hobby is Robin. His parents stop helping him out financially when they realise he's not just taking a gap year to figure things out and has in fact decided not to go to college. Steve doesn't have the money to get her something fancy for her birthday so he instead buys wool and buttons in her favourite colour and crochets a cardigan. He's never seen someone react so enthusiastically to a present he gave them before and every time he sees her wearing it he feels a surge of pride at the fact that he created something she loves so much.
The second person is Eddie, who complains everyone's ears off about how thin the hospital blankets are and how cold his room is while he's recovering from the demobat attack. Steve crochets a blanket for him. It's basic, black with thin red stripes, and the entire time Steve is wondering why he's even spending so much time making it when Eddie will be discharged before he knows it. He hands it to him one day when he's visiting with Dustin and Robin.
"Oh nice, you bought me a blanket," Eddie says, immediately opening it and spreading it out over his lap.
"Actually I made it," Steve corrects. "I'm still a beginner so it's not the best but it should be pretty warm for-"
Eddie's gaze snaps up from trailing over the intricate little knots of wool.
"You made this?" Eddie asks, his eyes wide.
Steve nods.
"You made this?" he repeats, holding up the corner of the blanket and pointing at it as if it wasn't obvious what he was talking about.
"That's what I just said, yeah," Steve responds.
"Sir Steven Harrington," Eddie grins. "You continue to surprise me. Who knew jocks could knit?"
Steve rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated huff.
"It's crochet not knitting. And if you don't like it I can-" he reaches to take it back, but Eddie snatches it away in a tight grip, pulling the edge of it to his chest like he's protecting something sacred.
"No way, Big boy." He refuses. "You've bestowed this precious gift upon me and I have accepted it. No takebacks. I will take care of it and protect it with my dying breath." His expression changes to something unsure. "Wait, is it okay for me to keep this or did you want it back when I leave?"
"Please don't talk about your dying breath when you're sitting in a hospital bed after almost bleeding out," Steve chastises, crossing his arms, unimpressed. "And yes you can keep it. I made it for you."
Before he can say anything else, Eddie drags him down into a crushing hug, not giving a shit about the tube attached to his wrist or his fairly recently stitched sides. Dustin later describes the noise Steve made as sounding like a cat having its tail stepped on. Robin points out in a teasing way that it took Steve a suspiciously long time to disengage from that hug, just making a perfectly casual observation.
The next one to get a handmade gift is Dustin. He wouldn't let go of the fact that Steve had made something for both Robin and Eddie before him even though he was supposed to be Steve's best friend. That christmas Steve gifted him a handmade sweater with a lightsaber design on the front, which meant he had to make things for the rest of the teens not long after because of course Dustin went around wearing it and bragging at every possible opportunity.
Soon all the people Steve cared about the most had something made by him.
Then one day Eddie asks him to teach him how to crochet so he can make something for Wayne to show how much he appreciates him. Steve thinks it's a really sweet idea, so he agrees. Eddie found a photo of a sweater he wanted to try and make for him, but he's finding it really tricky even with Steve's help. So in the end, Steve makes the sweater and they both work on a much easier blanket pattern together.
Steve's spending a lot of time in Eddie's room, sitting very close to him and occasionally gently taking hold of his hands to guide him when he gets stuck. This is how he finds out that Eddie still sleeps under that blanket Steve made for him over a year ago. It's also how he ends up making out with him on top of said blanket.
Wayne is so touched when he gets his handmade gifts that Christmas that he cries. Eddie teases him about it until Steve, who's spending his first Christmas with the Munsons as Eddie's boyfriend, reminds Eddie that he practically ripped Steve's hand off at the hospital when he tried to take that first blanket back.
"Yeah, well, it was important to me. You made it." Eddie shrugs. Then he picks up a large, slightly lumpy present and shoves it into his hands. "And you still haven't opened your gift. Less talking, more opening."
After that Steve is the one trying not to cry, because the second he pulls back the wrapping paper, a blanket pours out onto his lap, navy with white stripes. It was clearly made by Eddie because it smells like him, and some of the stitches show mistakes that he made when they were working on Wayne's gifts together.
He gently takes the material into his hands and runs his thumbs over each bump in awe. No one's ever put this much effort into a gift for him before. "I love it," he says, his voice slightly shaky.
"Are you sure?" Eddie replies, self-conscious. "I made a few mistakes, and I ran out of wool at one point, but the store didn't have any left in the same shade of blue so there's a small part at the bottom that looks slightly different. I can get you something else if you want. I know it's not as good as yours."
Steve leans over and shuts him up with a kiss on the lips, something he's learned is extremely effective over the course of their relationship.
After putting a lot of hard work into making it big in the music industry on their own terms, Eddie and his band are very proudly anti-record label. Steve on the other hand is a rising pop star under a huge label and is also managed by his rich parents all seemingly without having to put in much work for it.
Eddie hates the concept of Steve and everything he stands for. He thinks that his admittedly beautiful singing voice is wasted on a music industry puppet who doesn't seem to have his own personality beyond being handsome and selling things to the uninformed masses.
However, when they have to be in the same space for a few days' work on a charity single with a bunch of other artists, Eddie's eyes are suddenly opened to just how little he really knows about Steve. How much of his life is relentlessly controlled by his parents and the people he works for.
Steve is such a sweetheart, he's so kind to the staff and supportive of the other artists. He’s also extremely dedicated. He does take after take at his bosses' requests without a single complaint, even when Eddie fails to see anything wrong with his previous ones. There’s this little notebook he always has with him where he meticulously writes down every single miniscule thing he needs to work on.
Eddie doesn’t think Steve’s gone home at the same time as the rest of them a single day this week; he always stays to listen to everyone else, then moves to one of the rehearsal rooms to go over some tracks for an album he’s due to start recording. He had no idea so much work went into making cookie-cutter pop music.
Something in Eddie's chest pangs when he sees the look on Steve's face as he finishes a perfect take only for his dad to frown and say, “He was pitchy. Have him do it again.”
He experiences the same feeling as he watches Mrs. Harrington literally slap an item from the snack table out of Steve’s hand. Steve picking it up from the floor and disposing of it with a frown a few seconds later so the cleaning staff don’t have to do it.
Something surprisingly like anger on Steve's behalf is bubbling under the surface like water about to boil over. And Eddie has never been the best at minding his own business when something he believes is unjust is happening. So, Eddie waits until Steve’s parents have stepped out for a while, sets a few of the pastries from the snack table onto a plate and cautiously approaches an unsuspecting Steve, who’s got his head buried in that notebook again.
He taps him on the shoulder and says, "Hey! Wanna sneak off somewhere and split these with me?"
To his astonishment, Steve doesn't look at him weird or tell him to fuck off and mind his own business. Instead, a conspiratorial grin spreads across his face.
"You're on." He says, slamming the book shut and setting it aside.
Good. Eddie kind of wants to throw the thing into an incinerator at this point.
Five minutes later they're sitting in the nearest stairwell, slouched across the steps and breaking pieces of pastry off as they get to know each other. Eddie makes sure Steve gets most of it, noticing how he eyes the baked goods with all the desperation of a thirsty man in the desert gazing upon an oasis.
"Never thought I'd see the Steve Harrington, prince of pop, sitting with bad posture. It's almost uncanny valley." Eddie teases. "Think I'm gonna have nightmares later about you slouching."
"Shut up," Steve laughs, playfully shoving him.
And that’s the thing, he thought talking to Steve was going to be like trying to squeeze blood out of a stone, but they have this natural banter right from the jump that has Eddie completely blindsided.
"Seriously though, Harrington," Eddie says, shifting his tone to one of sincerity and looking Steve straight in the eyes. "It's so much better seeing you like this than seeing you all polished and perfect. It's good to know you're a real human being."
"Thanks," Steve says, then sighs. He fidgets with a chunk of glazed dough absentmindedly before popping it in his mouth and chewing as he processes his thoughts. "I would be like this more often, but perfect and polished is what sells apparently."
Eddie sits up a little at that, intrigued by the bitter tone in his voice and the little eye roll he follows up his statement with.
“You say that like you hate it.”
“I do hate it,” Steve admits. “I don’t want to be used to push a standard that even I can’t live up to. But that’s what you get when you're handed a contract as a child, don’t bother to read it and you have asshole parents who only care about money.”
“Damn,” Eddie whistles low. “And there’s nothing you can do about it?”
“Not for now,” Steve says. “But lucky for me I have a cool uncle who’s a lawyer and hates my dad as much as I do. He’s looking over it all for me. So maybe things will be different soon.”
Well shit. Now Eddie feels like a bit of an asshole for making assumptions.
“If it’s any consolation, I also have a very cool uncle and an asshole dad. So you aren’t alone in that department,” he offers. “Seems like we have all kinds of things in common.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a little smile that causes his nose to scrunch ever so slightly. “Seems like we do.”
Suddenly Eddie is acutely aware of how hundreds of thousands of pop fans all over the world feel when they look at this man. Particularly when they turn on the music channel and Steve’s there singing about some romance or another. Eddie’s sure it's entirely fictional because practically everyone in the industry knows Steve’s label enforces dating bans and other such bullshit.
Feeling the urge to swoon over a random cute thing Steve Harington did is not one of Eddie’s proudest moments, but he’s chalking it up to Steve being a master manipulator who knows how to make an audience feel things for him.
He needs to change the subject. Fast.
“So, what got you into all this in the first place?”
“I just love performing,” Steve answers simply, honestly. “The stage, the lights, the adrenaline, taking everything I feel and putting it into that one moment. It just feels like I’m untouchable when I’m in it, you know?”
“I do know,” Eddie confirms. It’s one of his favourite parts of the job too.
“I also like creating songs,” Steve continues. “It’s nice to hear the finished product for the first time and think ‘I made that’, even if a lot of the ones I write end up as B-sides or get sold to someone else.”
Eddie hums thoughtfully for a second then says, “Why don’t you sing about it, sweetheart?”
Steve pauses, frowning in confusion. “What?”
“What you’re feeling about all these shitty adults around you and the role they’re making you play. Why not try writing some songs about that?”
Steve seems to be deep in thought, so Eddie continues.
“Your contract probably includes something about having to produce a certain number of singles or albums, so you can’t just stop and wait it out. Am I right?”
Steve nods, a crease appearing between his eyebrows that makes Eddie want to reach out for him.
“So, make the music they want so desperately, but use it to expose instead of comply,” Eddie explains. “Make everyone else see what you’re seeing and do it right under the noses of the people who’re exploiting you. Make them applaud you for it without even realising they’re applauding you showing the world their poison.”
“That’s an interesting idea,” Steve muses, “but they’d never let me release songs like that.”
“So, wrap it up in a nice package. Make it catchy and just vague enough that they’ll never know any better, but people will theorise and figure it out. They’ll know what you’re trying to warn them about. There are a lot of scumbags in this industry. You could destroy all of yours with that pretty voice if you wanted to.”
Eddie’s train of thought is suddenly captured, derailed and held hostage by wide brown eyes and a slow growing smile.
“You think my voice is pretty?”
There are these tiny dimples that materialise at the corners of Steve’s mouth for the sole purpose of being Eddie’s personal undoing. Unable to look away, Eddie can only nod in response.
"Yeah. I do."
Steve leans in ever so slightly, his captivating stare flitting to Eddie’s lips.
Eddie’s drawn closer like a moth to a flame.
The door to the stairwell slams open, forcing them to pull back.
“Steve! Eddie! There you are.” A rather frantic looking PA says. “They need you both back in the studio.”
They give the woman an awkward nod and rise from their seated position. As Steve dusts off his jeans, Eddie grabs the now empty plate that was perched on the step between them like a bridge, a successful olive branch.
Eddie’s heart sinks when he sees the way Steve’s posture straightens up, his shoulders settling into their usual down and slightly back position as his expression switches from relaxed to practiced and professional.
He reaches out and touches Steve’s arm gently before he can get too far out of reach.
Steve casts a curious glance back at him.
“Just think about it. What I said,” he says softly. “You have more power than they realize.”
“I will,” Steve promises, the real him bleeding through in his body language again just enough to give Eddie hope.
Later, Steve calls out to him as he’s leaving.
“Hey! Eddie!” He shouts, voice wavering ever so slightly from constant use.
The sound snatches Eddie’s attention away from thoughts of dinner and a warm, comfortable bed.
Steve parents are standing nearby, confused and judging stares equipped. Eddie pays them zero attention.
“Thanks for today.” Steve says with the same arresting smile from earlier. “I mean it.”
This time, Eddie’s ready for it, having already been exposed to the intensity of it once.
“No problem,” he says with a slow grin. “Just mention me in the next album.”
A few months later, a signed copy of Steve’s new album comes in the mail. It’s clever and emotional and thought provoking. And more importantly, Steve has written a lengthy thank you message on the cover of Eddie’s copy in gold permanent marker, followed by his phone number and a small heart.
It sits proudly in the collection of his most prized albums on his shelf as Steve kisses him on his doorstep after their third date.
It's the only pop album Eddie would ever go to war over.
Eddie Munson and the mortifying ordeal of finally managing to kick the ball in gym class and sending it flying into the face of the recently concussed King of Jocks.
Steve who struggles to read people. Who ended up in the popular crowd cuz he’d occasionally make blunt remarks or answer a little too honestly, and people mistook that for haughtiness.
Steve who was seen as ‘cool’ because if anyone tried to bully him he’d shoot back wise cracks, not realizing the other was trying to belittle him. And people ate it up. Thought he was funny. Steve who serves as good as he gets, who can take a joke. Steve who’s cool.
Steve who struggles to know when someone is truly mad or just playing around. Who doesn’t pick up on someone being passive aggressive.
And Eddie who never beats around the bush. Who wears his heart on his sleeve, who says exactly what’s on his mind. Who’s so expressive and real that Steve doesn’t have to wonder if he’s missing something, if Eddie is saying one thing but means the other.
Robin who is just the same. Who doesn’t belittle him when he asks what people mean, or takes something literal. He doesn’t feel like he’s an idiot when she corrects him either.
eddie asks if steve would still love him if he was a worm, to which steve obviously says yes, because steve would still love eddie if eddie were a sweet gum ball stuck in steve’s big toe.
anyway, steve wakes up the next morning to a worm wiggling across his chest. at first, he almost screams, but then he remembers eddie’s question from yesterday.
oh shit...
did eddie turn into a fucking worm??
after a few seconds of contemplating, steve carefully picks the worm up. “eddie? is that you?”
unfortunately for steve’s ego, the real eddie can’t control the volume of his laughter from outside the bedroom door, and steve’s face is redder than red when eddie stumbles into the room.
now steve wants to know why the fuck eddie put a worm on his chest.
I love steddie. I do. With all my heart. It's my favorite ship of all time. 100% real no clickbait 1 link mega.
And I love the fandom adopting the idea that Eddie is gay, and Steve is bisexual (and often Eddie is Steve's bi awakening, that feels accurate), but I'm also very hyped about the idea of Eddie learning he's bi because he has a brief crush on Chrissy.
I can picture him so easily after spending half an hour with Chrissy in the woods his mind going like "I thought I was into guys?!?! what's happening???", and then blushing because she was adorable all the time and then learning that he was wrong all along for sterotyping her for being a cheerleader, thinking to himself "well I think it's time to rethink a few things", and then everything goes holy shit and he gets to know Steve and he goes like "ok, yup, so apparently I've got a type and that happens to be layered jocks with unfitting reputations, hearts of gold, 80 pound sweet pupper energy, impossibly huge eyes and smiles that can eclipse the sun. I'm fucked."
izzy806
blakekathryn
vaporwave
tangentwithtanner
jacobvanloon
