ADHD mum to lil 1yr old boy 🖤 Hufflepuff 🤍 She/Her 💚 Demirose 💜 29 🩶 A page for my current hyperfixations... Subject to change: Steddie, Wolfstar, Miraculous Ladybug 🏳️🌈 Multifandom page 🏳️🌈
Loosely inspired by this post from @whereismymonsterlover about Steve being the Yoko of Corroded Coffin.
The first time Steve shows up at a Corroded Coffin practice, he's pretty sure he's the problem. It's a familiar feeling for Steve so he just accepts his presence as a major distraction for Eddie and thus the cause of strife within the band that particular night. However, the fourth time Eddie stops mid-song to steal a kiss, Steve dodges out of the way, moving to a back corner of Garrett's garage as he mumbles, "just pretend I'm not here." He usually only gets to see Eddie strumming at his guitar when he's working on a song, half singing broken lyrics as he furiously writes and then crosses them out. He never actually gets to see him play so he just wants to watch his boyfriend in his element
By the third practice, Eddie and the rest of the band have completely forgotten that Steve is in the room. Like a fly on the wall, he watches as they waste the first hour of practice, shooting the shit, not even bothering to tune their instruments until Garrett's mom sticks her head in and says something about it "being awfully quiet in here for band practice." As a result, the last two hours are spent trying to cram as much practice in as possible. If anyone attempts to take a break for any reason or, God forbid, messes up, Eddie grinds practice to a holt, screaming "does anyone else even care about this fucking band? This is metal! Jesus Christ, show some fucking respect!" It's the first time since they started dating that Steve finds something he doesn't really like about Eddie so he decides to change it.
At first, he's pretty subtle about it. Steve resets all the clocks in the trailer so they're 15 minutes fast. That combined with Steve's insistence that they leave early gets Eddie to band practice with plenty of time to chit chat while Steve subtly plugs in the amps and hands Warlock to Eddie to idly tune as they talk. After practice, he saying things that he used to hear his coaches say, like "you know, all the guys really look up to you. You're like their leader and good leaders lead by example."
This all only gets him so far, Eddie tones down his language but he's still acting like a dictator, not realizing that even he needs to take a break, get a drink, and most of all, eat something. The next time Eddie unloads his gear from the van, Steve removes the cooler he'd packed. Everyone makes fun of him at first, "who brings snacks to band practice." But half way through the second hour, when everyone's patients is at it's end, Steve pulls out the orange slices, peanut butter-filled celery sticks, and string cheese he brought. "I haven't had ants on a log since I was like 5," Jeff exclaims, snatching up half of the contents of the Tupperware.
The last hurdle to overcome is scheduling. They're supposed to practice a few times a week, Eddie would prefer three times, but everyone else has stuff to do. By the time they're packing up and trying to settle on the next practice date, it ends up being a week away or sometimes more. Finally, Steve talks to each of them, figures out their individual schedules and settles on set practice dates and times.
With everyone getting along and double the practice time, Corroded Coffin starts to sound really good. So good in fact, that the next time Eddie, Steve, and Robin go to their favorite gay bar in Indianapolis, Steve can't help up talk them up to anyone who will listen.
"Well, of course you think they're good," the Manager says with a roll of his eyes. He'd only been talking to Steve cause he was so cute but he was kind of over it now that he knew he had a boyfriend.
"No, seriously, I hate that kind of music but unfortunately, they're actually really good," Robin groans, against her better judgement. She'd never wanted to develop a taste for Corroded Coffin but over the last few months, if she'd wanted to hang out with Steve, that usually entailed also hanging out with Eddie so she'd tagged along to a few practices and, much to her chagrin, she'd started to like them.
"We don't really play that kind of music here. It's not very danceable!"
"Yeah, but you have theme nights, right? And have you see how metal fans dress? Lots of leather... well, not lots if you know what I'm saying," Eddie said, shooting Steve a flirty wink.
And that's how Corroded Coffin booked their first professional gig, paid and everything. No one gave Steve credit, he wouldn't take it if they had, but deep down, Eddie knew they couldn't have done it without their Coach.
It was a pretty good idea, if Eddie did say so himself.
In the minefield that was “crushing on your straight best friend”, he’d found a pretty good balance. Keep touching to a minimum without treating Steve like he had cooties, and if he said anything that came across too flirty, he’d turn around and say something similar to Jon or Argyle for plausible deniability.
Now, he was getting it out of his system by making the whole thing part of his next campaign.
Giving one of his characters a crush on a guy who was just enough like Steve to make sense to him, but not obvious enough that anyone else would catch on, was a masterstroke. He got to write down all his feelings from “the character’s” perspective, and get praised for how authentic he was making the setting feel.
He hadn’t counted on Steve finding it.
He’d gone into the other room to get popcorn for the movie, and when he came back, Steve had the paper in his hands. In horror, Eddie realized there was nothing on it that marked it as fictional.
“I—“ he started, but then Steve turned around, his whole face bright with excitement. Before Eddie could form more words, Steve was throwing himself into Eddie’s arms.
“Oh, sweetheart,” and then Steve was holding on tighter, tilting his head up a bit to press a kiss to his mouth. Eddie was struck utterly dumb. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you feel the same way!”
Eddie accepted that he wouldn’t be able to make an intelligent contribution for the rest of this conversation.
“I mean, I hoped you did, but every time I was mostly sure you were flirting with me you’d make it clear it was just a friend thing—“
Wait. Had he been playing with Steve’s feelings. He didn’t even think that was possible.
Either way, it looked like he’d have to rewrite Friday’s campaign. Definitely couldn’t use that letter now.
It’s Halloween 1984 and Steve Harrington has nothing left. Nancy broke up with him. His friends ditched him. He’s storming out of the party with his hands on his face, sobbing when Eddie Munson who’s selling catches him and offers a ride Steve’s about to refuse but figures he doesn’t want anyone else to see him crying.
Steve collapses in Eddie’s passenger seat, shaking and ugly crying. Eddie has no clue what to do, so he just awkwardly pets Steve’s hair like he’s a stray dog. “Shit, Munson,” Steve sniffs, “you probably think I’m a pussy.” And Eddie goes dead serious shaking his head “No, man. I don’t.”
They are parked outside Steve’s dark empty house smoking what’s left of Eddies lunch box and Steve tells him everything. Nancy. Him losing friends and how it feels to be King of nothing. Eddie’s floored they’re even talking, let alone like this. But then Steve whispers it. “I just want to run away.”
Eddie shifts closer, head coming to rest on Steve’s chest. His voice goes quiet and says “I… sleep better when you’re around.”
No teasing, no deflection like he would usually do being honest. And Steve’s arm tightens around him. “Good,” he murmurs. “‘Cause I breathe better when you’re safe.”
Warning: Steve feeling like he can't say no to sex and having it without really wanting to
Steve knew he had a reputation. If he was a girl, he'd be labeled easy. Gagging for it. Slutty. But no one called him a slut. Not to his face, anyway. Instead he got clapped on the back by the boys on the team and told how lucky he was. They thought it was funny to leave condoms in his locker and make bets about whether or not Steve would knock somebody up before he graduated.
It was fun, at first. He liked sex, obviously. He liked how it felt to be close to a girl, the smell of her perfume, the brush of her hair against his skin, her moans and sighs when he touched her right. He liked the satisfaction that came with making someone feel good. He'd felt proud the first time a girl wanted him to be her first. Like he’d earned her trust.
Somewhere along the way, it started feeling less like girls wanted him, and more like they wanted the Steve Harrington Experience. For Steve to show them a good time, so they could brag to their friends about the size of his dick or how many times he made them come. They stopped wanting to go on dates with him. He'd be at a party and a girl would come up to him, start making excuses to touch his arms or his hair, press in close and giggle, and eventually whisper in his ear to take them upstairs.
He couldn't turn a girl down in front of his friends, not when she was so obviously offering sex. They'd never let it go if he did. He could already hear the jokes: looks like Steve's off his game or did you finally catch something, Harrington, or worst of all you aren't some kind of fag now, are you?
So he took them upstairs, and he fucked them, and he made sure they enjoyed it, and then they'd maybe cuddle with him for a few minutes before they went back downstairs to tell their friends. It's not like they were forcing him or anything—he could have said no, he just didn't—but it didn't feel good anymore. He felt gross. He felt used.
That's why it hurt so much when Eddie started coming on to him. He'd thought Eddie was his friend. He'd thought them coming out to each other was bonding, not Eddie trying to get a read on him. If the hangouts, the jokes, the way Eddie always looked pleased to see him—if all that was just to get in Steve's pants, to take him for a ride, well. It was unnecessary, first of all. Everyone knew Steve would fuck just about anybody who asked. Eddie didn't have to pretend to like him. Steve would prefer if he didn't, because this hurt so much more than getting blatantly propositioned at a party.
The way he saw it, he had two options. Number one, he could act dumb and pretend he didn't understand that Eddie was making a move on him. That might get Eddie to back off for a while and earn Steve some more time with him.
Number two, they could have sex. He could show Eddie a good time, give him exactly what he wanted, and then get his heart broken when Eddie promptly dusted his hands of Steve and moved on to better things.
Steve was tempted to go for option one, but that would just prolong the heartbreak. It would always be in the back of his mind that their friendship was just a fat fucking lie. It would be better to just get it over with.
So when Eddie touched his face and looked into his eyes and told him he was pretty, Steve knew what he had to do. He didn't get why Eddie was beating around the bush, but maybe he was shy. Maybe it was his first time. It didn't matter.
Eddie was looking at his lips, clearly angling for a kiss, so Steve leaned in and gave it to him. He still liked kissing, even if the rest of sex had become kind of flat and stale.
Eddie was a very enthusiastic kisser. He clutched at Steve's back and dragged Steve down on top of him until Eddie was flat on his back on the sofa with Steve's tongue in his mouth.
“Fuck,” Eddie moaned when Steve pulled back, and chased Steve's mouth with his own. “Get back here, c’mon.”
Kissing was part of Steve's routine. Kissing, oral, then the main event. It made it easier to pretend it was real. But there was only so long he could drag it out before it was time to move on. Even the shy girls got impatient eventually.
He kissed Eddie until he was hard against Steve's hip, and then he sat up and started taking Eddie's pants off.
“Holy shit,” Eddie said, his head thunking back against the armrest as Steve got his dick out and started touching it. “I can't believe this is really happening.”
That was a bit much. He wished Eddie would just acknowledge this for what it was and quit messing around. He ducked his head to try and hide his scowl but he must not have been quick enough, because Eddie was pushing himself up onto his elbows and frowning back at him.
“What's wrong?” Eddie asked.
“Nothing,” Steve lied. What the hell was Eddie playing at, acting like he gave a shit about Steve? “Do you want me to suck your dick or what?”
“Yeah, obviously, but can we like, call a timeout for a sec? Because I feel like I'm missing something here.”
“Everything's fine,” Steve said. “Look, either you want to fuck or you don't. It's all the same to me.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “All the same to you?” he repeated. “Jesus, Steve. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
As he spoke, he shoved his dick back into his underwear and yanked up his jeans. He sounded hurt, which was baffling. Steve wasn't so blunt with girls, true, but they also had never pissed him off as bad as Eddie was.
“You know,” Steve said, shrugging. He didn't usually talk about it. He didn't usually need to. He'd stopped expecting anything more than sex years ago.
“Can we just, like, pretend that I don't?” Eddie said, shoving his hands into his hair and looking so genuinely confused that Steve felt a little frisson of uneasiness shoot up his spine. “Let's pretend that I have no fucking idea what's going on right now.”
“Can we just drop it?”
“Uh, no, man, we cannot just drop it.” Eddie shuffled closer. “Steve, hey. Talk to me. What's going on?”
He put his hand on Steve's knee, and Steve flinched.
Eddie's face fell, and he snatched his hand back.
“Shit, sorry,” he said. “You don't want me to touch you?”
Steve shook his head. “I can't have sex with you,” he said miserably, and pulled in his knees to hug them to his chest. He should have been happy about that—he’d been mad at Eddie for wanting sex, after all—but it turned out he did want to have sex with Eddie, he just didn't want it to be some empty, meaningless transaction. So now he would lose Eddie's friendship without even getting the fake-closeness of sex with him in return.
“You can't?” Eddie asked, because of course he'd zeroed in on that. “I don't understand.”
“I thought I could do it, but I can't,” Steve said, feeling very small. “I…I like you too much.”
“Right, how stupid of me,” Eddie said, smacking his own forehead with the palm of his hand. “You only have sex with people you don't like.”
He could tell Eddie didn't mean it, but it was uncomfortably near to the truth. He swallowed hard and fiddled with a worn spot on his jeans.
“It's not like that,” he said finally. “It's just…nevermind. It doesn't matter.”
“It does matter!” Eddie said, and from the corner of his eye Steve could see him reach a hand out and then change his mind and pull it back. “Look. If you don't want to have sex with me, that's cool, I get it. We can still be friends, no hard feelings. But there's obviously something else going on here.”
“You still want to be friends?”
“Uh, duh.” He gave Steve a lopsided smile. “You're one of my best friends, man. I'm not gonna ditch you just because you don't feel the same way about me.”
Steve didn't understand. “Oh,” he said. “I thought—”
Eddie waited him out, more patient than Steve had ever seen him before.
“I thought you just wanted sex,” he said. “That's all anyone ever wants from me.”
“But you like me too much to have sex with me,” Eddie said, like he was trying to confirm it, and when Steve nodded his eyes went all soft and sad.
“Steve,” Eddie said in a very careful voice. “When was the last time you had sex with someone and you actually wanted it?”
Steve tried thinking back, but he'd been in a dry spell for a while. He'd stopped going to parties after what happened with Billy, and it turned out that girls were only interested in Steve “the Hair” Harrington, not so much Steve “the Loser” Harrington. Before that it was all just a blur of faceless girls at parties and the sinking feeling he got when they approached him.
Eddie wasn't going to like the answer, he knew that much. He felt like he was in trouble, which was stupid, but knowing it was stupid didn't change how he felt.
“I can't remember,” he mumbled, looking down at his knees and not at Eddie.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Eddie swore. “Why? If you didn't want it, why didn't you say no?”
“I guess…I didn't feel like I could,” Steve said. His face was hot. He kind of wanted to cry, except Eddie was there, and he didn't want Eddie to see.
“Okay,” Eddie said. “Shit, okay.”
“Sorry.”
“Don't fucking—” Eddie pushed his hands back into his hair and yanked on it. When he spoke again he sounded calmer. “You don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong.”
“Didn't I?” Steve said. He felt like he'd done a lot of things wrong. He'd made some pretty shitty assumptions about Eddie, for starters.
“No, man, you didn't. But I think maybe I owe you an apology.”
Steve had no idea what Eddie could possibly have to apologize for. He was chewing on a lock of his hair, which was gross and definitely going to give him split ends, but he spit it out and straightened up.
“I'm, uh, I'm really fucking sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't say no to me,” Eddie said, his eyes darting over Steve's face.
“You didn't,” Steve protested. Eddie had been sweet, really. And he hadn't even mentioned sex until Steve brought it up. This was all Steve's fault.
“Then why—”
“I forgot that I could!” Steve said, nearly yelling, and put his hands over his face when he saw Eddie's look of shock. This was it, he was going to die of mortification right here and now.
“Steve,” Eddie said softly. “Fuck. Do you, uh, do you want a hug?”
Steve nodded, and Eddie put his arms around him just like that, even though Steve was still all scrunched up with his knees to his chest. After a minute Steve uncurled enough to hug Eddie back. Eddie's shirt was soft against his face and his hair tickled Steve's neck.
“Sorry if I ruined everything,” Steve told him.
“You didn't ruin anything. We're good, okay? We had a misunderstanding and we sorted it out.”
“Do you still want to kiss me?” Steve asked, and Eddie's hands paused where they were stroking his back.
“Full disclosure? Yeah, I do. But I'm not gonna let it mess up our friendship, I'm gonna repress that shit so hard—”
Steve cut him off. “I like kissing,” he said.
“Oh!” Eddie said, and his arms tightened around Steve. “Okay, so maybe…maybe we skip the repression?”
Wayne is 26 when his kid brother becomes a father. When he holds Eddie for the first time and promises to do better by him than he managed for Al.
At 32, he steps in to keep Eddie from breaking to pieces after Liz died. Only for Al to get territorial and send him away.
He’s 37 when Eddie shows up on his doorstep with his things shoved in a black trash bag, now Al’s got his third strike. It takes nearly a whole year for Eddie to get comfortable, only for it all to be undone two years later when Al makes parole and acts like nothing changed.
When Eddie’s 17, Wayne finally gets his boy back. It means he’s there to hold him as he rages and cries his heart out over being held back. There to tell him that sticking it out and really trying is what matters, even if he needs more time.
Wayne cries his own eyes out two years later when he nearly loses Eddie for good.
Later that year, his close eye on Eddie even closer as he heals, Wayne sees just how close the Harrington boy has gotten. Sees how protective Steve is of Eddie. How he looks at him like he’s precious.
He sees how Eddie reaches for him like he knows he’ll be there.
He sees that Steve always is.
Wayne is 50 when he spots one of Eddie’s rings on Steve’s finger. When he asks, Eddie mumbles, “We made it as official as we can.”
They hug and Wayne tells him how happy he is for them. “You chose well,” he says softly against his hair.
At 55, Wayne’s knees hurt and his back hurts, his body tired after years at the plant. But it doesn’t bother him. He still gets down on the floor to play with his granddaughter, the adoption paperwork finally complete now Rosie’s three.
