[geek-ramblings]

Pure Kenergy

[silentturtle]

This.

[littlefreya]

I will forever reblog this every time it’s on my dash because it should be this loud and simple. 💖

[khantoelessar]

YES!!!

[ctntduoarchive]

falling in love with someone is problematic because then you are promoting queerbaiting (showing romantic interest without any explicit moments) and forcing the other one into a corner before considering their boundaries. it's also problematic to daydream about them being in love with you because that's rpf

[emchant3d]

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week. 

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it. 

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger. 

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing. 

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?" 

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep. 

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching. 

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2 coming soon 🥰

[winterbuckwild]

As soon as they find out that Eddie will most likely be taking the fall out for the murders, Steve and Eddie make a plan. Made in hushed whispers in the dead of night in the hospital, before the government declared Eddie legally dead and spirited him and Wayne away in the middle of the night.

In two years on Steves birthday they would meet in Seattle. When the heat had died down and the spooks let their leashes go a little.

For Steve the two years was long and painful; having Eddie and then having him stripped away, leaving a great gaping hole that never healed. They had been in love for a week, and when he stared at the empty bed in the hospital room next to his he felt like his life had ended.

He made the trip out for his birthday, not telling Robin or the kids. He never uttered a word of their plans, had come to distrust them a little himself. Eddie wouldn't be there, he would have forgotten him.

Two years is a long time.

They had never set a time he realised as he approached the needle a minute after midnight of his birthday. He planned to wait all day. Just one day before he put the whole business to rest. Before he would force himself to move on whether he wanted to or not.

He was so tired.

There was already a figure there and his heart lifted. Eddie's hair was shorter with a harsh undercut exposing delicate ears. His shoulders were broader and hunched up to his ears with stress. A vibrant tattoo ran up his exposed neck and disappeared into the neck of his t shirt.

"Steve?" His eyes filled with tears at the beautifully familiar voice and as Steve turned twenty one he ran into the arms of the other half of his soul.

"I've got you, Steve." Eddie's voice shook. "Not letting you go again."

[obiwan]

[steddieas-shegoes]

“Steve! We have to go!”

“I’m coming!” He yelled back to Robin, still searching through his closet for the pants he planned for their night out. “Where the hell are they?”

He was throwing things out of the way, not caring where they landed.

That was a problem for future Steve.

Current Steve needed to look as hot as possible.

His dry spell would be over tonight. He wasn’t leaving the bar until it was.

“Steve!”

“Robin! Where are the jeans?”

“What jeans?”

“The jeans! The ones that you told me to wear!”

“Didn’t you wear them yesterday?”

“No! I saved them!”

But Steve looked over at his laundry basket where his shirt was hanging over and the pair of jeans he was looking for peeked through.

He did wear them yesterday.

Fuck.

Okay, back up options.

The dark jeans that actually probably belonged to someone else and didn’t fit his thighs right? No, he needed to show off his thighs.

The light jeans he hadn’t worn in at least a year because there was a questionable stain that wouldn’t come out? Well, it would be dark in the bar, but no. He’d know about it.

The jeans he wore earlier that weren’t special but also weren’t bad? How would that help him get laid? No.

So he looked back the jeans in his hamper, ignoring Robin’s angry yelling from outside his door.

“Found them! Two minutes!”

He put on the jeans, hoping they didn’t smell or have any stains on them.

He ignored Robin as he threw on his coat that was hanging on the back of the couch and ignored the dull headache blossoming across his temples.

He opened the door and started to leave.

“You coming?” He asked over his shoulder, laughing when Robin smacked his arm as she passed by him.

“Don’t act like you’re waiting on me. I’ve been waiting on you for 30 minutes!”

They barely spoke on the way to the bar, Robin already sensing his headache and probably hoping the silence would make it better before the night got started.

She was amazing.

Steve couldn’t live without her.

But hopefully, they’d both find someone tonight. They needed it.

— — — —

Steve wasn’t having any luck. In fact, he’d never had worse luck.

His head was pounding at this point, music much louder than usual, more people crowded around his usual spot. The three men and one woman he’d danced with so far were fun, but not really his type. He’d been a little upset about seemingly wasting his time, but swallowed down the bitter feeling when he saw Robin dancing with the same girl for three songs, huge smile on her face.

At least one of them was getting something from tonight.

He stood at the far corner of the bar, trying to be out of the way as best he could. He needed to have some water, but he knew the bartender wouldn’t be pleased about getting pulled away from actual paying customers. He would wait for a lull and then get his attention.

It was a new guy, or at least one who didn’t normally work the shifts Steve was here. He was pretty.

There was no other way to describe him; long, curly hair, tattoos everywhere, wide Bambi eyes, tall and thin frame that still held hidden muscle. Steve’s dream, really.

Too bad his vision was getting blurry from the headache.

He had to reevaluate his plan and get water now before he went into full migraine territory. He couldn’t pull Robin away from her night just because he had to get home safely with a debilitating migraine.

He started trying to wave to the bartender anytime he looked over towards Steve’s end of the bar, but it didn’t work.

He tried yelling over the crowd and music, but it ended up making his head throb worse.

He finally managed to throw a napkin at him when he was standing a few feet away.

Not his finest moment, but he’d apologize when he had water.

The bartender looked over at him with raised brows.

“Need something?”

Steve couldn’t help the shame he felt about literally everything happening at that moment.

“Water please?”

The bartender nodded once and grabbed a cup to fill with ice and water. Steve felt some of his muscles relax knowing that he was going to be able to hydrate a little.

When he placed it in front of Steve, he slid a small cup of lemons with it.

“Squeeze a little in there. Helps with headaches.”

Steve knew he was looking at Eddie like the sun shone out of his ass. It would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so dreadfully miserable from the almost-migraine.

“Thanks.” Then he realized how shitty he must look if the bartender knew what was going on from just looking at him. “Wait. How’d you know?”

“My uncle gets them bad. He always gets pale and his eyes get bloodshot when one’s coming. You looked in the mirror lately?”

Steve shook his head, then winced at the way it made his head pound.

“You here with someone?”

“Yeah. She’s dancing.”

“Need me to have an announcement made for her?”

“No, let me drink this first.”

The bartender nodded, but Steve noticed he kept checking on him between serving other drinks to people.

Steve used more lemon than he probably should have, but he had a whole cup of it, and it couldn’t hurt to use more.

He rested his head against the wall next to him, wincing at the excessive vibrations from the music.

Normally, he loved that their hole in the wall bar got loud and fun once a week. Tonight, he wished he could be surrounded by silence.

He knew he was getting worse, but he didn’t want to bother Robin, who was still dancing with the same girl. She’d probably go home with her as long as Steve didn’t interrupt.

He felt a hand on his forehead, slowly brushing sweaty hair away. He tried opening his eyes, but even the small amount of light seeping through his eyelids was too much.

“Hey, I’m Eddie. I’m the bartender. My relief just walked in so I’m gonna help you to the back, okay?”

Steve could barely nod, the pain in his head throbbing down his jaw and neck. He reached his hand towards the voice and managed to make contact with Eddie. Hopefully, Eddie understood he was not gonna be able to do anything helpful at this point.

He felt an arm around his waist, guiding him away from the bar, but Steve still didn’t want to try opening his eyes. He had to trust Eddie.

He should’ve stayed home. He knew the dull pain he felt earlier would turn into worse, but he was so stuck on getting in bed with someone, he came anyway.

Eddie was walking slowly, keeping a firm grip on Steve so he wouldn’t jostle him around too much. Maybe if Steve weren’t getting his brain attacked by hammers and knives, he’d be trying to get Eddie in bed.

That thought came and went though as he realized how pitiful it was that a grown man couldn’t even walk himself home because he had a migraine.

Eddie would probably tell this incredibly embarrassing story to everyone here and laugh about it for weeks.

Steve was in and out of it for the next few minutes, unable to really focus on anything around him besides the warm hand on his hip. Despite being sweaty enough to wring water from his shirt, he still felt cold, shivers occasionally wracking his body.

This was a really bad one.

He was so stupid for being stuck in a bar for this.

His brain registered a door closing, then a fan turning on. It wasn’t completely silent, but the outside noise was a small echo in his brain compared to the banging it had been previously.

“Gonna set you on the couch in the corner and get some ice.”

Steve didn’t acknowledge him, but he let out the most ridiculous whimper when Eddie set him down on the couch, slowly laying him back so his whole body was flat. He heard the door open and close, but was so focused on how nice the air from the fan felt, he didn’t hear the door open and close when Eddie came back in.

“Alright, gonna put this on your head. Where’s it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

Eddie sighed, but placed the bag of ice on his forehead to start.

“Get these often?”

Steve appreciated his very low voice, knowing that anything at a regular volume would probably be too much in this quiet room.

“Mhm.”

“I grabbed you more water too. Think you can have a sip?”

“Mm. No.”

He heard Eddie laughing quietly, but he couldn’t smile back at him.

“You live close?”

“Mhm. Mile.”

“I live closer.”

“Hm?”

“Welcome to my humble abode. I own the bar, work at the bar, and live at the bar. Technically this is the staff office, but upstairs is my bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. If you think you can handle the stairs, you can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch. I’ll let your friend know you’re here too if you give me a name.”

“Steve.”

“Your friend’s name is Steve?”

“No. Mine.”

“Okay, what’s your friend’s name, Steve?”

“Robin.”

He tried opening his eyes so he could see his surroundings, but they were so heavy. Leave it to Steve to end up suffering with the worst migraine he’s had all year at a bar with a hot bartender taking care of him and he can’t even open his eyes to fully appreciate it.

He distantly heard the door again, but must’ve fallen asleep for a bit because the next thing he knew, he felt hands on his face.

“You’re sure he can stay here?”

“Robs?”

“Steve. You idiot. You should’ve told me it was getting worse.”

She was whispering, but she was angry with him and he knew she would be yelling if she was a worse friend.

“Sorry.”

“Eddie’s gonna handle it. I’m gonna take Chrissy home. You call me as soon as you’re up, got it? I’ll send the cops here to break down the doors if I don’t hear by lunch time tomorrow.”

“Got it.”

He was gonna forget, but hopefully Eddie would remind him.

When he had bad migraines, he pretty much forget everything he did or said. None of the doctors could explain it. He’d had scans done, and there were no signs of memory diseases, so it was just a part of the trauma from multiple concussions.

He could hear Robin telling Eddie the same thing. If he could make his face work, he’d probably smile.

He drifted again, but he could hear Robin still talking to Eddie as he did.

The next time he was fully aware, he was in a bed. The bed was huge, and there were so many pillows around him, it felt like a fort.

Two blankets were on top of him, one so soft he couldn’t help rubbing his cheek against it. He was surrounded by a cozy, light cologne smell.

He was also fully clothed.

His jeans were itchy, and he suddenly felt claustrophobic as he realized the sun was up and he was alone in a stranger’s bed.

He sat up and looked around.

The room itself wasn’t that big, the bed taking up most of the space. The door was closed, but he could hear someone moving around outside of it. He looked to the right to see a door that must lead to a bathroom.

He quickly got out of the bed, shoving his shoes on and grabbing his wallet off the table. He opened the door and saw the back of a man with long, curly hair.

The bartender.

Eddie.

Eddie had taken care of him during his migraine. His migraine that he should’ve known was coming and stayed the hell home.

He was an idiot.

When Eddie turned around, he felt his heart stop.

God, he was pretty.

Like, Steve might have to change up the nights he comes to the bar just to get a glimpse of this beautiful man.

“Hey. Feeling better? Must be since you’re standing without support.”

Steve blushed. He’d never been in this position before, and he had no idea what the proper etiquette is for thanking someone for taking care of you when you’re unable to even move or talk.

“Uh. Yeah, much better. Um.” Steve awkwardly stood by the counter while Eddie continued mixing coffee in a mug. “Thanks for. All that.”

Eddie was laughing. In another circumstance, Steve may have found it cute, maybe been proud of himself for making a hot guy laugh.

But he was dealing with a migraine hangover, which usually left him grumpy.

Eddie must’ve noticed because he stopped laughing abruptly.

His head tilted to the side as he looked Steve up and down.

“You know, Robin called four times already this morning to check on you. You should probably call her and let her know I didn’t murder you and hide the body already.”

“Okay. Yeah. I.” He felt around in his pockets and couldn’t feel his phone. Shit.

“Over there. Charging.” Eddie said as he pointed towards the table by his front door.

“Thanks.”

Steve walked over to his phone to see 33 missed calls from Robin.

He called her back immediately, not wanting her to actually show up with a SWAT team.

“Thank god! Steve, I told you to call by lunch. I was just about to call Hop.”

“You’re the one who left me here.”

“Yes, assuming you’d wake up early enough that I wouldn’t assume you’ve been murdered!”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 3:00, Steve!”

“Fuck. Okay. I’m leaving now.”

Eddie cleared his throat and nodded at the counter, which now had a plate of fried eggs, toast, bacon, and sausage on it.

“Okay I’m eating, then I’m leaving.”

“You better text me. I’ll show up with Hop!”

“Robin. Jesus.” Steve felt a bit lightheaded. “I am literally at the bar. You know where I am and who I’m with. Chill.”

“You were incapacitated.”

“And now I’m not. I can escape if I have to.”

“You’re not as strong as you think you are!”

He hung up before she kept going. She would stay on the phone for hours if he let her, and he wasn’t in the mood.

He made his way to the counter and sat down, smiling at the steaming food.

“You didn’t have to cook all this. Especially this late in the afternoon. You probably have to head down to the bar.”

“Nah. I own the place. I just work there to keep myself busy. I’m all yours until you’re good to go home.”

Steve didn’t have much of a response for that, his brain still firing on the bare minimum. Migraine hangovers were worse than actual hangovers.

He ate a few bites silently, then looked up to see Eddie setting a cup of tea in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“Technically, sleepy time tea. But it works really well for headaches.”

“Oh. Thanks. It won’t like, make me fall asleep?”

Eddie laughed and Steve decided he was happy to hear it now.

“No. It has relaxing properties to it, but it doesn’t actually make you drowsy.”

Steve took a few small sips and smiled.

“It’s good.”

“My uncle says I make the best.” Eddie leaned over the counter with a smile. “So, you thought going to a bar was a good idea with a headache? On our DJ night?”

“It wasn’t that bad when I left. Thought I’d be okay.”

“Mhm. So you get these a lot?”

“Well. I mean I do get migraines a lot. But that one was one of the worst I’ve had in a while. I can usually still talk and walk enough to get to my own bed.”

“Do you remember everything?”

Steve knew he had a lot of blank spots in his memory from last night. If Eddie wasn’t such a nice guy, he’d probably be more worried about it.

“No. I have memory problems when I get them.”

“Ah. Well that’s okay. I got you into bed pretty easily. You only woke up twice. Once to use the bathroom, which you managed to do alone. The second time you were crying about having to sleep alone? I couldn’t understand all of it, but that seemed to be the gist.”

“Oh.” Steve sighed. “That’s super embarrassing. Guess I’ll never come back here. Maybe never leave my house again.”

Eddie smirked. “I dunno. I think maybe I could fix the sleeping alone thing. You know, when you’re not incapacitated from a migraine.”

“You’re serious?”

Eddie nodded.

“You saw me like that and would actually want to be around me again?”

“I was hoping for more than around you. Maybe on you? In you? Next to you? All of those sound good.”

Steve choked on his next bite.

“Uh.”

He took a sip of the tea to help clear his throat, ignoring the way Eddie was moving around the counter.

“You know, Robin kept me on the phone for about an hour earlier, telling me all about how you’re the best guy she’s ever known and she’s a lesbian for a reason so that means a lot. Said you guys come here once a week because it’s the best place to find decent people, not just anyone. Said you’ve both had a bit of a dry spell.”

“She’s exaggerating.”

“Oh, so it hasn’t been eight months since you’ve taken someone home?”

“No.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raised in a challenge.

“It’s been ten.”

“My bar hasn’t been good to you, I guess.”

“Up until last night, I guess not. But I still prefer it over the clubs.”

“Until last night?”

“Yeah. The guy who owns the place kind of rescued me and let me sleep in his really comfy bed. He probably deserves something for that.”

“Oh? What does he deserve?”

“Well, I’d offer a blowjob, but I’m out of practice and might disappoint.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“But maybe he’d be okay with a real date?”

“When would this date be?”

“Maybe tonight?”

“Hm. He has to check the bar schedule, make sure no one needs coverage.”

“He can text me later to confirm.”

“I sure hope you’re giving me your number to do that.”

Steve laughed and held his hand out. Eddie placed his phone in his hand and waited for him to type his name and number in his contacts.

When Steve handed it back, their hands grazed each other. Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, squeezing for a moment.

“Dinner here? Maybe 8?”

“I thought you had to check the schedule.”

“Nah, just needed your number. I make the schedule, I know it like the back of my hand.”

Steve shook his head.

“Can’t start a relationship on lies.”

“Oh, a relationship? You move quick don’t you.”

Steve did. He knew he did. It’s why he’d never been able to keep anyone around. He moved like he was ready for marriage on the first date, and usually people didn’t like that.

He looked down at his lap, already prepared to lose Eddie’s interest.

But he felt a hand on his cheek, slowly guiding him to look up.

“Dinner here at 8?”

“Uh. Yeah. Please.”

Eddie smirked at him before he placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“Just be yourself, Steve. I like you just fine. And I’ve already seen you at your worst and your crazy best friend. It’s all uphill from here.” Eddie pulled away and moved back to start cleaning dishes from his cooking. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll end up married by the end of the year.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“Am I?”

Eddie looked over his shoulder, serious look on his face.

“Are you?”

“No. Stranger things have happened.”

[izzy-hands]

STEDDIE + texts

[apuckishwit]

When Your Boyfriend's a Reformed Mean Girl

100 percent inspired by this tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR75sjkf/

Time seems to do wierd things for Eddie Munson.

It's something Steve has gotten used to, in the year they've been dating. Eddie is attentive and affectionate, always makes sure Steve needs are being met, always goes the extra mile to let Steve know how much he loves him, how much he cherishes their time together. In many ways, he's the best partner Steve's ever had.

Just...sometimes things like approaching deadlines and important dates seem to literally not register in his brain until it's almost too late. And not even then, sometimes.

Eddie acknowledges that it's a problem. He puts every effort into finding workarounds. There is a calendar hanging at both his (brand new, government-funded) trailer and Steve's house, hanging right by the door with color-coded schedules and a pack of Post-It notes and a cup of pens sitting on a little table below it in case something changes or comes up. Steve has a dedicated half hour every night where he's allowed to remind Eddie of things they have coming up, or ask if they've been added to the calendar and Eddie is one hundred percent not allowed to gripe about being nagged in that thirty minutes. Not that he would, because most of the time there's at least one, "Oh, shit, forgot about that." When something slips through the cracks, he apologizes promptly and sincerely if it's something that affects someone other than him and he is always trying to do better.

Steve understands. Hell, after as many concussions as he's had, details get away from him too sometimes. There's several color-coded blocks on the calendar for Steve, as well. Sometimes, Eddie just forgets things despite his best efforts.

But their anniversary? The date that Steve has been carefully planning for almost a month to celebrate their first (of hopefully, many) year together as a couple? Really?

Eddie is going to be horrified.

He is going to feel so bad, and so guilty, and he is absolutely going to go all out to make it up to Steve. Steve knows this. He knows Eddie loves him, and that Eddie was looking forward to tonight as much as he was, and that this is just an instance of Eddie's brain betraying him, and not him actively trying to hurt Steve, or be dismissive of him. Eddie is going to feel awful when he realizes that he stood Steve up on their one-year anniversary to fight imaginary dragons with the boys. Hell, the boys are probably going to feel awful when they realize they gave Eddie something else to focus on in the lead-up to his one-year anniversary.

Well. Dustin, Lucas, and Will are going to feel awful. Mike will probably think it's hilarious.

The point is, Steve knows Eddie didn't do this on purpose, and it's not that Eddie doesn't value his time with Steve enough to remember the date, and so he's merely irritated. Maybe a little exasperated. Not truly angry.

All he has to do is radio over to Wheeler's place and remind Eddie what the date is. His boyfriend will literally drop everything, will probably not even bother to pack up his precious miniatures and dice before he's tearing out of the driveway and breaking every traffic law imaginable to get to Steve's house. Steve doesn't actually want Eddie to get a ticket or anything, though. Besides.

He's feeling a little petty.

There's steaks waiting to be tossed on the grill, twice-baked potatoes in the oven, and a fucking homemade chiffon cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream chilling in the fridge. Eddie's gift is sitting on the counter, in an elegant little gift bag tied with black ribbon.

"Hey Rob, you wanna come over for dinner?" he says into his walkie, deciding to let Fate decide if his boyfriend is listening and catches a clue.

"Do I get a piece of that cake you made?" Robin replies immediately, amusement already dancing in her voice because she's his (platonic) soulmate and she can read his mind.

"You can take the leftovers home," he says.

And then his (romantic) soulmate, who can usually read his mind, comes over the channel as well. "Have fun, babe!" Eddie says brightly. "This is probably going to run later than I thought. I'll probably just pick you up for breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Okay."

"Love you!" Eddie says, and signs off.

Robin brings a bottle of wine she stole from her parents' pantry and they demolish the dinner and half the cake. Steve does get another package of steaks out to thaw in the fridge for tomorrow, though, and blows out the fancy candles he'd lit before they burn too low to be used again. Fuck if he's making another chiffon cake, though, persnickety little thing. He calls Enzo's and orders a chocolate marble cheesecake to be picked up tomorrow.

"So you gonna milk this for a nice present or what?" Robin asks as Steve is packing the remains of the cake for her to take home, as promised.

"Nah. He's fucking perfect like 90% of the time...I'm not gonna get mad at him for the other ten." Robin smiles at him, a little gooey-eyed. Steve returns it with a smirk. "But I'm not letting him off the hook entirely."

He has just finished putting the dishes away when he hears the rumble of Eddie's van in the driveway. He glances down at his watch, laughing to himself a little when he notes that while late, it is far, far too early for a gaming session to be done. He scoops his little gift bag off the counter and saunters to the front door just in time for a frantic knocking to sound. He schools his features and opens the door.

"Steve! Stevie, baby, I am so, so sorry. I swear to God, I had tonight written down in like five different places, but Dustin wanted to try a new character class and we haven't done this campaign yet, and I got so excited...I'm so sorry I forgot, but I'm here and I SWEAR I will make it up to you!" Eddie pauses for breath, wild-eyed and panting.

Steve holds the silence for a moment, and then shakes his head, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Eddie's cheek. "You're such a nerd," he says, affection dripping from his words. He sighs. "I hope you know, now I'm expecting flowers tomorrow. And I get to pick the movies for, like, two weeks with no complaints."

Eddie almost wilts in relief. "Absolutely none," he promises, reaching out to grip Steve's hand. "I will make tomorrow night AMAZING. I promise."

Steve smiles at him, his chest aching with the love he feels for this man. But he's still feeling just a little bit petty. He holds the bag out to Eddie, tilting his head coyly. "You can still open this tonight, though."

"Babe! I thought we said no gifts." He takes the bag in his hands, plucking at the ribbon.

Steve's smile turns just a little sharper. He worked fucking hard on that cake. "It's kind of for both of us, really. It's what I was gonna wear up to bed tonight."

Eddie peeks in the box, his brow furrowing. "Stevie...there's nothing but strawberry lip gloss and a bottle of lube in here." He looks up, and freezes as his brain catches up with what his mouth just said.

Steve leans forward and kisses him, hard, long, and absolutely filthy. "Suffer," he whispers against his boyfriend's lips.

Then he shuts the door in his face.

[fizzigigsimmer]

To B, With Love: Chapter 8

Moodboard by  @prettyboylikeyousteve

Genre: A/B/O Mail Order Bride Au!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Harringrove

Summary:  Steve, a society omega, puts out an add in the paper looking for an alpha among the lonely hearts expanding the west.

Preview:

He was ready for the omega to try and slap him, but Harrington didn’t. He ripped the blanket off of his shoulders and shoved it into Billy’s arms instead before turning his back on him. Which was either very brave or very stupid depending on whether you classified alphas as predators. Billy had never felt more like one as he stared at the patch of skin visible above the omega’s collar, soft and clean where his necktie had once rested. It would be saturated in his scent… Billy wondered what Harrington had done with it.  

Read on A03

[legitcookie]

Of course this would happen today. The universe is definitely out to get him, and this only confirms it.

Steve was holding a box filled with everything he had at his desk. Well, his former desk. At his former job. That he just got fired from. All he wanted to do was go home to his crappy apartment and drown his sorrows in Ben and Jerry's and watch some shitty reality tv. Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is.

Yes, because it's when he's making plans to cocoon himself on the couch for the foreseeable future that the elevator stops. Typical thing for elevators to do, but not usually between floors and with the emergency lights coming on.

Throwing his head back in exasperation, Steve let's out a deep groan.

"You have got to be kidding me." Steve's head lolls to the side and he notices another passenger. He's seen him before in the building, usually arriving as Steve is leaving, or occasionally in this same elevator, but they've never done more than a polite nod and closed-lip smile at each other. He didn't even know his first name, just that Munson was written on his mailbox (that was usually about to burst at the seams).

He had a guitar case with him, and he looked like he had been out all night. His hair was all over the place, and the white shirt underneath his leather jacket/denim vest combo was wrinkled heavily. Must be a busker or something that plays his guitar for tips. He seems like the type.

The man, Munson, slid to the ground and hit his head against the wall a couple of times.

"Stop doing that," Steve says, irritation dripping from his voice. Munson just glares at him, and without breaking eye contact, he thumps his head against the wall again. Steve rolls his eyes and shifts his box under one arm. He moves to the elevator console and starts pressing all the buttons.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"The elevator's stuck and probably thinks no one is on it, so I'm reminding it," Steve says as he finishes pressing the last row before his eyes land on the red emergency button. Aha!

"The elevator isn't sentient, man. It can't forget how to be a damn elevator." Munson stands up just as Steve hits the red button.

Steve huffs and turns towards the other man. "I know that, I'm not an idiot."

Munson brings his hands up in mock surrender, eyebrows raised. "Never said you were. I just implied it." He smiles widely at Steve, and damnit. Steve's annoyed at himself now for thinking this guy is really cute when he does it.

Not the time.

A tinny, bored voice comes out of the speaker saying, "What's the problem?"

Steve turns back to the console and keeps his face close to the speaker. "Hi, yeah, the elevator is stuck between floors," Steve moves back to double check the little arrow above the door, "five and six. There's just me and another guy in here."

The speaker sighs. "Okay, we'll send someone up to help shortly."

"How long is shortly?" Munson asks.

Another sigh, and Steve bristles at the sound. "Shortly. I don't know, as soon as possible. Keep your pants on, geez." And then the speaker goes silent.

Groaning, Steve drops his box to the floor before sitting down beside it.

"This day just keeps getting better and better." The bitterness is clear in his voice. If things worked out the way Steve wanted them to, he would be sitting in his cubicle, probably playing solitaire by himself, and making call after droning call to housewives hoping they'll buy whatever product he's supposed to be selling. It isn't glamorous, but at least it wasn't being stuck in a goddamn elevator for who knows how long.

Steve let's out another groan. A moment later, he sees Munson in his peripheral vision sit on the opposite side of the elevator and let out a similar groan. So, Steve groans again, louder. And Munson does another, even louder.

Steve levels a look at him. "It's not a contest, dude."

"No, because if it was, I'd be winning." There was that same smile, and Steve couldn't help the corners of his lips quirk up.

"What's your name?" Munson asks, apparently not as observant of his neighbors as Steve was.

"Steve Harrington."

"Ooooh, Steve Harrington. I can see the silver spoon hanging out of your mouth from here." Steve furrows his eyebrows at the man and gives him his bitchiest look.

"Yeah, silver spoon. Exactly why I live in this dump."

"Hey, this isn't a dump. It has an elevator and everything."

Munson laughs at his own joke, relieving some of the tension floating between them. "I'm Eddie." Eddie.

"Munson." Eddie's eyebrow raises and he looks at Steve. He gives a smug smile back to Eddie and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I've seen you at the mailboxes. I'm observant. Your name's on it."

"Oh yeah? Have you been observing me for a while, Steve-o?" Eddie smiles widely, showing all his teeth, and leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs.

A blush creeps up Steve's neck and cheeks, and he huffs a laugh, uncrossing and crossing his arms again. "Uh, no. I'm just being neighborly. Don't cream your pants."

Eddie sits back again and laughs. There's a twinkle in his eye now that makes Steve want to fidget with something. He remembers his box then, and shuffles through it until he finds what he's been looking for. He sits up straight and holds up the pack of cards between two fingers.

"Wanna play something?"

They pass the time playing War, Go Fish, and Eddie even attempts a few card tricks (which turns into 52 Card Pickup). Steve isn't sure how long they've been stuck in there, but it's actually turned out to be...fun. Eddie is pure energy. He's constantly talking, eyes lighting up over subjects Steve normally couldn't give a shit about, but Eddie makes them interesting. He realizes then that he'll be a little sad when the elevator finally gets fixed and this bubble will pop.

Without realizing it, they've moved from opposite ends of the elevator to where their knees are a hair apart, knocking gently into each other with each laugh, and making a shock of electricity shoot up Steve's spine.

"So," Eddie starts while shuffling the deck between his dextrous hands again, "what's your deal?" He's not looking at Steve, eyes fixed on what he's doing.

Steve clears his throat and shuffles slightly on the ground. "What do you mean?"

Eddie looks up at Steve through his eyelashes. His eyes are molten lava cakes and Steve can't look away.

"I mean, are you seeing anyone?" There's a casualness to how Eddie says it, but his eyes never leave Steve's own as he waits for the answer. It makes Steve feel like he's pinned to the spot and his brain doesn't want to cooperate.

"Uh," Steve starts and clears his throat, "no, I'm not seeing anyone." Eddie smiles softly at him and looks back down at the deck.

The dusting of pink Steve sees on the other man's face pushes him on. "What about you? What's *your deal*?" Steve asks teasingly.

"Free as a bird, big boy." And oh. Okay. That shouldn't be doing it for him, but apparently it does. Right.

The cards should definitely be shuffles by now, but Eddie continues and Steve is mesmerized by the movement. He found out while talking that, yes, Eddie does play guitar, but he's in a band instead of being a busker. So, he has calloused fingers from years of practice, and Steve wonders how they'd feel on --

"See something you like, Steve?" His thoughts are cut off, and Steve looks up at Eddie. He honestly looks like the cat who caught the canary, and Steve has the urge to wipe that look off his face.

"So what if I do?"

Eddie's smile widens, and Steve can't help but mirror it. He slowly moves his hands to the rips in the knee of Eddie's jeans and plays with the loose threads. Eddie's eyes are staring at Steve's hands, a look in his eyes like he's short-circuiting. Feeling emboldened, Steve moves his other hand to gently cup Eddie's cheek, rubbing gently over his cheekbone. Eddie's eyes find Steve's again, and Steve sees exactly when his eyes flick down to Steve's lips.

"See something you like?" Steve whispers in the space between them.

"Definitely," Eddie say breathlessly, eyes never moving from Steve's lips.

The both lean in, ever so slowly, getting closer and closer. They're a breath apart when the sound of cogs turning goes through the room and the elevator starts to move.

They both startle at the sudden movement, moment broken. They look at each other and share a smile and a chuckle each. Steve stands up and reaches down to help Eddie up, pulling him into his space and not letting go of his hand.

"Hi," Steve smiles.

Eddie returns it, dimples on full display. "Hi there."

They finally move apart as the doors slide open and pick up their items, exiting the elevator two hours after they each entered it.

"Well, I'm this way," Steve says pointing his thumb to the left.

"I'm this way," Eddie says pointing to the right. Steve perks up when he gets an idea.

"Can I walk you to your door?" Steve asks. Eddie's eyebrows quirk up and he gives Steve a surprised look.

"Think I can't make it all by my lonesome?"

"Doesn't hurt to be safe," Steve says with a shrug and a bright smile. Eddie smiles back and nods his head in the direction of his apartment.

"Onwards." Steve rolls his eyes fondly. What a fucking dork. God, he already likes him a lot.

Eddie's apartment isn't far from the elevator, and they both stand there awkwardly holding the box and guitar respectively. The moment in the elevator had been broken, and Steve isn't sure if the attraction he felt is one-sided now that they're free. That is, until Eddie's eyes linger on his lips again before looking back up to his eyes through his eyelashes.

Fuck it.

Steve drops his box just as Eddie drops his guitar case. Steve moves both hands to cup Eddie's face as Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's waist, and they bring their lips together.

This kiss is different than any other kiss Steve has ever been apart of, and he feels himself melting into it. Their mouths slot together perfectly, and Eddie swipes his tongue along Steve's bottom lip. Steve opens his mouth, inviting Eddie to deepen the kiss. They move closer, chest against chest, and time feels like it's stopped.

When they eventually part, they lean their foreheads together, smiling at each other and trying to catch their breaths.

"Remind me to send a gift basket to the landlord for having such a shitty elevator."

Steve laughs and moves his hand to the back of Eddie's neck, bringing him in for another kiss.

[hellboys]

Nick Offerman Answers the Web’s Most Searched Questions –WIRED, 2020

[suiheisen]

society if sidney crosby let his curls grow out

[willgrahamscock]

In many ways, Hannibal Lecter is a misunderstood character because he was just hungry

[catchymemes]

[lengthofropes]

No one: Absolutely no one: Steve:

[obligatedart]

So… this happened 👀

Sluttiest thing I’ve ever drawn, and I’ve done some smutty shit haha