A Place for Fic Recs

[onirislanding]

🚬 Shiner, an S1 AU 🚬

Shiner | Rating: T | Steddie Season 1 AU | 14,470 words

It's done! Thanks to everyone who followed along on WIP Weekends. Special thank you to @dodger-chan who was a great beta and supported this story from the start. The beautiful S1 moodboard by @camouflagedlove that inspired this is here and below.

Snippet:

Eddie jabs a finger in the direction of the front door, but Steve only wildly pantomimes opening the window in response. Eddie rolls his eyes and opens it all the way with a creak. 

“Why didn’t you knock on the door like a normal person?”

“I did! A lot! But you didn’t answer. I didn’t want to keep knocking and make your uncle mad.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. He rubs at the side of his head. Hell of a way to wake up. “He’s out. I’ll let you in.”

“Not necessary,” Steve says and starts climbing in the window like a maniac.

“Harrington, holy shit, what are you–” Eddie starts as Steve slings a leg inside, not managing to get his sneaker grounded on the floor.

“I do this all the time,” Steve says with all the stupid confidence in the world. Then he sticks his whole upper body through, loses his balance, and topples in, face first. 

Eddie tries to hold it in, he really does. That just makes the laugh tear from his mouth, nearly howling until he’s gasping for air. 

From the floor, Steve smiles up at him, his usually coiffed hair flattened against his forehead, bloodied eye now fading to purpling blue. He’s never looked like this, as far as Eddie can remember. None of that hard fakery in place. 

“Ta da,” he says. 

Read it on A03

[evillittleguy]

Bark At The Moon

Part 20 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Ao3

1023 words

Eddie has never really been the best of swimmers, sure he did just fine the last time he was in this lake, but that had been fueled by his need to run away rather than to. Right now, as he continues to go down further into the darkness, he is acutely aware of everything around him. The water is frigid cold and heavy against his skin, almost as if trying to push him back to the surface. He can’t see, blindly following where he hopes Nancy and Robin had gone. His smoker lungs burn at the lack of oxygen and his eyes prickle with water that is instantly swept away from him. Despite all this, he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t go back. 

About forty seconds into his dive he spots the light of the discarded flashlight just as it feels his lungs are about to cave in. He swims to it, kicking as fast as he can. So that’s what a gate is. Something grabs him just as he reaches the terrifying glowing red and drags him through. The something just so happening to be Robin much to Eddie’s relief. Eddie gasps for breath as he nods at her in thanks but she doesn’t stay any longer than that, sprinting away to wear he can hear Nancy screaming Steve’s name. Eddie nearly falls over as he struggles into a sprint himself, getting there just in time to see Nancy lodge an oar out of the rotting boat and swing it at one of the horrifying monsters eating Steve’s sides.

Eddie stumbles, gagging at the sight of Steve writhing on the ground with one of the thing’s tails around his throat. The monster Nancy hit goes flying and before Eddie can react Robin is stomping on the one choking Steve- his eyes starting to roll to the back of his head. Eddie scrambles for the oar that Steve had dropped, yelling as he swings at one of the flying little demons himself. His inexperience is clear but the hits are accurate, his only focus on getting Steve safe to run. 

The hair on the back of his neck stands up as it slowly dries, his nerves alight with wrongness. He turns just in time to see the swarm coming their way. “Shit!” He screams, swinging with all his might- now to defend himself as well. He misses one and watches in horror as it hurtles towards Nancy from where she and Robin are trying to get the monster away from Steve’s neck. “Nancy, behind you!" He screams seconds too late, watching in horror as it latches onto Nancy’s back and Robin goes to try and yank it off of her- leaving Steve alone to continue to writhe against the tail choking him.

Eddie goes to run to him but another of the monsters gets between them, for the first time Eddie actually sees it in all its horrifying glory. A red scaled slimy little rat with giant wings and a screeching mouth. He hits it, satisfaction pulling at him as it slams into the ground and stops moving. Breaking his weapon was worth that.

He turns his attention back to Steve, his mind racing on how he’s going to kill the thing hurting him with the half-broken oar in his hands. But it doesn’t seem like Steve needs any of their help as he manages to rip the tail from his throat with a growl, hand gripping the tail as the monster seems to try and flee away from the dangerous look in the man’s eyes. Eddie stops; breath stuck in his throat as the skin on Steve’s back seems to ripple as he yanks the flying monster back towards him before slamming it on the ground. 

A bat barrels itself at Eddie in his distraction and he’s forced to look away from Steve, using the splint end of the oar to impale it in the monster’s neck. A horrified laugh escapes him as the thing drops dead. Eddie drops the oar, spinning around to see-

The bat like monster is on the ground stuck under Steve’s feet, both of his hands around its tail as he yanks the monster apart like its fucking taffy. Blood drips from Steve's mouth.

Holy fuck.

Holy fucking fuck. 

Eddie is left staring like an idiot as Nancy rushes over to Steve to check on his bleeding sides, like something a normal person would do. Robin says something stupid about rabies and doctors and death of all things but it's all mud in Eddie’s ears. The warmth in his lower stomach as the memory of Steve killing the bat- as Robin called it- floods his mind in a loop. 

That should not have been as hot as it was. Steve had been hurt and bloody and ripping a bat in half with a strength Eddie had never thought a human could possess and- Eddie should not be having to turn away from the group as his blood rushes embarrassingly south. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus on something else. 

But when he sees their surroundings, he sobers up immediately. 

He’s never seen so much death in his life. 

It’s not even the gore covering the long Hawkin’s mirrored landscape of the dried-up lake, but the taste of the air, the gagging smell. The darkness flashes with red like a mock streak of lightning. “Guys-” Eddie starts, backing up as he sees them- the small black dots of more monsters flying towards them.

He stumps back into the group, shoulder brushing Steve’s as the four of them prepare. 

“That’s not that many.” Steve breathes as they land in front of them, about five from Eddie’s quick counting. “We've got that.”

“Um-!” Robin squeaks, pointing at the sky as a lot more start appearing at an alarming speed.

“Okay, so maybe we don’t got that.” Eddie hears Steve whisper; he nods in agreement. 

“This way!” Nancy yells at them, grabbing Steve’s and Robin’s arms and sprinting into the terrifying woods behind them. Eddie shrieks as he follows them, stumbling as he races to catch up.

___

Tag list:

@sofadofax @tartarusknight @danadaria @tinyplanet95 @yesdangerpls

@gutterflower77 @ollyxar @i-amthepizzaman @d-isenchxnted @devondespresso

@queenie-ofthe-void @chaosgremlinmunson @here4thetrama @finalmoondragon @theohohmoment

@estrellami-1  @asquareinverona  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @ajeff855 @eriquin

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@kuamo-mrqzi @abstractnaturaldisaster @what-is-life-but-an-empty-void @living-force @too-much-tma-stuff

@nebulaoz @geekymagicalpotato @mydysfunctionallife

[livwritesstuff]

part 3 of my artist!eddie, financeguy!steve divorced-dads steddie saga, written for the @softsteddieseptember week two prompt "secret" | rating: T | wc: 2219 | cw: n/a

parts 1, 2

Rozzy’s dads are acting weird.

Weirder than normal, at the very least, or a different kind of weird than the way they’re usually weird.

She’s pretty sure Dad’s got a boyfriend, so that explains him at least. He’s always smiling and he’s always got one hand on his phone and he’s been using all this bright, vibrant paint (a lot of yellow).

Plus, her dads had always followed their schedule of weeks with her to a capital-T, but this fall…yeesh. They were a mess.

It was embarrassing, honestly, how many times they asked her whose week it was supposed to be (and how is she supposed to know? She’s ten).

At first she thought it was just because of all the holidays and everything – Rozzy herself couldn’t have told you what day of the week it was during winter break – but it’s the new year now, and she’s back in school again and already there’s been multiple times both her dads were there at pick-up, acting all sheepish about not remembering whose day it was, so it’s gotta be more than just that.

Daddy’s in a good mood too, and his face always gets, like, ten times brighter every time his phone buzzes, so maybe he’s dating someone now too. It’s that or his new-ish job, because Daddy’s been happier ever since he stopped working with Grandpa, so it could totally have something to do with that, but Rozzy can’t tell, because she’s pretty sure Daddy’s deleting their messages (or maybe they’re using Instagram or something – hopefully not though because it’s cringy her dad even has an Instagram) because she peeked over her shoulder once and the top text thread in his messages is just Dad, just like always (because, besides Aunt Robin, it’s not like Daddy’s got friends or anything).

So, yeah, they’re both being weirder than usual, and Rozzy still can’t figure out why.

Unless…

———

“I think Rozzy might be onto us,” Steve says.

He’s on FaceTime with Eddie the way they usually are after Rozzy goes to bed – Steve has her this week, so Eddie had called him from his art studio, his phone propped up on a paint can, probably, so Steve can see Eddie, can see that he’s painting on a canvas, even though he can’t see the canvas itself.

“Why?” Eddie laughs, “What’s she saying?”

“Uh, well, earlier today she asked if I would be sad if you started dating someone,” Steve says, leaning his phone up against the mirror in his bathroom as he starts getting himself ready for bed, “and then right before dinner she asked if I knew your buddy Jeff’s favorite color.”

“Sounds like she thinks I’m dating Jeff,” Eddie comments, “Hope he doesn’t take it too hard when I tell him I got my eye on someone else.”

Steve hides a grin as he hums his own feigned disappointment for Jeff, because he knows Eddie’s got his eye on someone else, because it’s him, because it’s been nearly a year since the night Steve and Eddie admitted they’d mutually been painfully in love with each other for ages, eight-year-long divorce be damned.

They’ve been taking things pretty slow, mostly for the sake of their daughter, Rosalind, and it’s only been four-ish months since they made things “official”, even if they still haven’t told anyone about their rekindled relationship yet, hence why their ten-year-old has been asking some probing questions.

“She’s getting too smart for us,” Steve says.

“Eh, it was always gonna happen eventually,” Eddie shrugs.

“Hey, uh, that reminds me,” Steve says, palms feeling a little sweaty, heart beating a little faster than it usually does, “My mom’s floating around ideas for this year’s trip – she’s shooting for Greece, I guess. In April.”

“April’s early,” Eddie comments, “Don’t they usually like to do the trip during the summer?”

“Yeah, but she needs to see Greece in the spring – because summer, winter, and fall weren’t enough, apparently. She wanted us to go in May and then when I reminded her that Roz wouldn’t be missing school for a vacation, she got all weird, because…why prioritize her education? Anyway, she’s aiming for Rozzy’s spring break now.”

Eddie gives a sardonic laugh, “Christ, babe, your friggin’ parents.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head, and something about the exchange reminds him of a conversation they’d had last summer during one of those midday playground custody swaps. They didn’t know it at the time, obviously, but it was only a couple weeks before they’d get back together, still dancing around each other in a way neither of them had picked up on.

“Hey, uh, any chance we could swap weeks around in August?” Steve had asked Eddie, eyes still on where Rozzy was playing on the swings a few hundred yards away from the park bench he and Eddie were sharing, “My parents nailed down the annual vacation plans.”

“Jesus, that’s still happening? Your parents still pretending to stand each other?”

As if Steve had needed Eddie reminding him that there’s some serious irony in his parents’ marriage remaining intact all these years later while his own had imploded in a fiery car wreck, (especially since proving that his parents were the ones who had it all wrong had been a pretty significant factor in why Steve wanted to get married so badly in the first place).

“You said that last year,” he’d replied drily.

“Fuck, man,” Eddie shook his head, “I dunno why you put yourself through that shit.”

Steve only shrugged because he didn’t really have any answer.

“I’m like a glutton for punishment or something, I guess. I hate putting Roz through it though. Every year I get this close to leaving her home with you until I remember that just means I have to listen to my mom’s passive-aggressive comments about how you’re “withholding her granddaughter,” or whatever, and it’d be a whole thing I’d have to deal with.”

“Aw, you’d defend my honor, Stevie?”

“Obviously,” Steve had immediately replied, because it’s true.

It’s true now that they’re together again, obviously, but it had never not been true, even during the years they’d put their relationship on ice. Don’t get him wrong – there was a lot about their relationship back then that needed fixing, but it never had anything to do with Steve thinking Eddie was one of, if not the greatest person on the planet.

By the time last summer’s family vacation rolled around, Steve and Eddie were well into the process of sorting out their shit, so Steve had spent the entire week texting Eddie and sending him pictures (of Rozzy building sandcastles and playing in the waves, obviously, but also of “candid” ones of himself all tan from the sun and hair dripping ocean water that Eddie always replied to with shit like “our child DID NOT steal your phone and take that photo you fn bastard”), and Steve’s always been obvious when he’s in love, so his mom had immediately noticed, asked who was making him smile like that, saying that he must be seeing someone, trying to pry details out of him (if only she knew who was on the other end of the phone).

But…that’s kind of what Steve’s trying to get at here.

“So, what, we gotta move weeks around?” Eddie asks, “That’s fine, just–”

“Actually,” Steve gently interrupts, “I was gonna maybe suggest that you might…come with us? Maybe?”

He watches Eddie freeze a little, eyes flicking over to him for a second before he sets his paintbrush down.

“Uh…what?” he asks, eyebrows raised up practically into his hairline, “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, “Seriously. And, look, it’ll probably go one of two ways – my parents will be all polite society and pretend everything’s fine and say you’re welcome to join, and then I get to go with you, which would be awesome. Or, they’ll flip out about it, and in that case, I just won’t go, like, in protest or whatever.”

“Steve, you wouldn’t have to–”

“Love, I hate that trip. I mean, it’s not like you’ve never gone before – my parents’ relationship is basically like the Cold War, so they’re not the best company, and they make all kinds of snarky comments about me and my life, and Rozzy’s bored out of her mind because all they want to do is go to vineyards and museums and shit. So, like I said, I either don’t have to go, or I get to go with you. Win-win, in my opinion.”

“Well…I mean…”

“Eds,” Steve says, leaning against the marble counter to get even a little bit closer to Eddie, even if it’s really just to the phone balanced against the bathroom mirror, “If you don’t want to or you’re not comfortable with it, that’s totally fine.”

“Not, it’s not that – at all. You know how I love to terrorize your dad.”

(Steve does, and he’s effective).

“I just – you’re ready for that? For people to know? Your folks to know? They’re – I mean, some people are gonna have a lot to say.”

By now, Eddie’s clearly abandoned his painting based on how he’s moved his phone so it’s leaned up on the easel now, leaned up on the canvas, actually, if Steve had to guess, which means his phone’s probably got even more paint on it, and the canvas will have some suspiciously phone-shaped splotches, not that it’ll stop Eddie at all – he’s always taken an ‘improvise, adapt, overcome’ approach to his art.

(A couple months back, Eddie had accidently stuck his hand on a mostly-wet canvas during an evening of phone sex, and a few days later had bashfully presented the painting to Steve, the handprint barely distinguishable amidst an explosion of color and texture.

“I wanted to call it Ode to an Orgasm,” Eddie had told him, “But…that’s a little histrionic. Even for me.”

The painting hangs in Steve’s office at work and Steve can’t deny by now just how head over heels he is).

“Christ,” Eddie adds, shaking his head, “Feels like this is a conversation we should be having in person or something.”

“Wanna come over then?” Steve asks simply, because it’s easy to ask, because Steve wants Eddie by his side for the rest of this lifetime, if possible, thanks.

“I mean, yeah, obviously.”

“So come over,” Steve shrugs, “Look – I know we’ve been taking things slow this time around, mostly for Rozzy, obviously, but also for, like, us because, I mean, fuck, we took things so fuckin’ fast last time around and I don’t want the same shit to happen again because I’m so in love with you, Eddie. It’s fuckin’ crazy, and I’m with you, Eds, one-hundred percent. If it’s too soon still, it’s too soon and that’s fine and we wait until we’re ready, but if you’re ready, if you wanna come over and stay over and we tell Rozzy in the morning and we tell our friends and Wayne and my fuckin’ parents, then…I mean, like I said. I’m with you.”

Eddie nods as he picks up his phone, holds it closer to his face.

“I’m with you too, Stevie,” he says, “In all of it. I wanna tell Rozzy and I wanna tell my friends because, Christ, they know something’s up, man, I swear, and Wayne’s gonna make so much fun of me because he’s been waiting for this to happen, and I wanna be a nightmare for your parents again, and I, like, I want more, Steve. I want you, all the time, baby. I want to figure out whose house we’re selling–”

(It’s Steve’s, obviously, because there’s no way on earth Steve would ever let Eddie sell his old carriage house in Bushwick he’s spent years basically curating – all kinds of paint and custom masonry on the walls and tiling the floors with colorful mosaics and tracking down vintage appliances and installing crazy shit like a bright red spiral staircase up to the second floor and a koi pond in the backyard – Steve has no idea how Eddie even got a permit to do that last one)

“– I wanna drop our fuckin' custody schedule, I wanna...I mean, shit, I wanna figure out if it’s an un-divorce or a re-marriage, but, I mean, you’re right. It hasn’t been too long, all things considered, and…yeah, you and I are two people who clearly lose all rationality when we’re in love, so it's a dangerous combo, but for now, yes, please, I wanna come over tonight and I wanna tell our daughter, so she can have as much of her childhood as possible knowing how much her dads love each other and love her, but, Stevie, I just need, like, thirty minutes because this paint’s drying and I gotta get this shit out the door in, like, two days, and the second I have you I’m gonna lose all sense of space and time so…” Eddie trails off, eyes flitting around like he’s looking for whatever point he was leading up to.

“So, like, thirty minutes?” Steve finishes for him, feeling something like laughter bubbling up in his chest from just how much he loves Eddie, how much good the past near-decade has done for them both because he got them to here.

“Yeah,” Eddie grins, “Thirty minutes.”

[ataliagold]

There and Back Again

Full fic now on AO3 and fic bind art here

Banner Art and Fic Bind by @jaytriesstrangerthings

Written for the @steveharringtonbigbang

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 41k Warnings: None

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Background Dustin/Suzie

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham, Suzie Bingham

Tags: Modern AU, No Upside Down, Road Trip, Steve and Eddie in love (it just takes them a while to work it out), Smut, Travel, Steve and Dustin friendship, Migraines, Fluff and Angst, Steve has bad parents, LOTR References

Summary:

“You can be my trusted adult,” Dustin cuts in.

Steve blinks several times. “Huh?”

“You’re an adult,” Dustin says, like he’s talking to a three-year-old.

“…yes, Dustin.”

“And my mom trusts you.”

“Yeah, but…wait.” Steve sits back up, ramrod straight in his chair. “You’re not suggesting…”

“Come with me to New Zealand,” Dustin finishes, then adds a quieter: “Please?”

___

When Dustin Henderson parent-traps Steve and Eddie into taking him to New Zealand for a holiday and some Lord of the Rings sight-seeing, Steve's forced to confront the reality of what he really wants out of life. Is it working for his father in a job he despises to afford his sky-rise apartment in Chicago and the status that comes with it, or is it something else, something simpler, something truer to himself? On the windy back roads of New Zealand, amongst the most stunning scenery he's ever seen and with old flame Eddie Munson in his passenger seat, he figures it out.

[steddiebbang]

Restaurant AU | 45k | explicit 

Author: (tumblr) @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, (ao3) Just_my_latest_hyperfixation

Artist:( Bsky) sammiches

[steddieunderdogfics]

Anything For You by ApomaroMellow

@apomaro-mellow

Rating: Explicit

12,742 words, 6/6 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Demon Summoning, Human Sacrifice, Blood Kink, Teeth, Demon Sex, Unsafe Sex, Self-Lubrication, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting

Summary:

Steve’s parents are in a cult and sacrifice him for their own gains.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @apomaro-mellow. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[ao3feed-steve-eddie]

by cloudsurfing

Steve’s been looking at Eddie for long enough he thinks that surely he must have noticed, on some level; he thinks about him and dreams about him and fantasises about him when he slicks up his palm and gets himself off — Steve has no revelation left to find in this.

But he doesn’t know what it could mean to him, to go all in for this thing that he wants so badly, that he can’t stop thinking about. He’s scared of the unknown place that this path takes him to, raised his whole life for the well paved road with a wife and kids and a white picket fence at the end of it, and he doesn’t know if it would be better or worse if Eddie were to turn him down with that pretty mouth twisted into disgust.

Steve doesn’t know how to be scared, like this. Scared so much he freezes with it.

Words: 6438, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of tide to turn

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Blow Jobs, Secret Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Angst, Bisexual Disaster Steve Harrington, Internalized Homophobia, Underage Drinking, something-not-exactly-friends with benefits to lovers, Steve needs to work his shit out, ONLY happy endings in this house

[evillittleguy]

Bark At The Moon

Part 18 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Ao3

2,445 words

Eddie makes his way into the crevice of the stone, back pressed against it as the tears on his face dry with the rest of him. He’s shivering, cold wet hair sticking to his skin. If he had the energy, he’d tie it up, take off his vest, let it all dry quicker. He doesn’t sleep, doesn’t think, just sits there against that rock with an almost delirious calm inching through him. It’s heavy, heavier than any emotion he’s ever felt before. His hand twitches where it lays on the ground and he looks at it, a miserable frown finding his face as he wipes his hand over the dirt as if he’s petting it. He thinks back to when Ozzy showed up bloody and bruised, how Eddie had nursed him back to health only for the wolf to leave once more.

The smallest bit of anger flares up within him, his hand bunching up the dirt into his palm. If Ozzy came to him hurt, why can't he come and help Eddie? But the anger leaves him like the wind as he thinks of Ozzy coming, helping, staying. He wonders briefly if the wolf is even alive still, heart breaking at the thought. With a broken yell he tosses the dirt into the dark, not even caring to watch as it disappears back onto the ground. He pulls his knees to his chin, hugging them. He feels like a child.

As the sun inches up in the horizon through the trees Eddie begins to try and plan. He has no food, no water, no form of communication. He lost the walkie in the boathouse, and he knows it’s a dumb idea to go back. The entire town is probably there, listening as his name is said over and over in condemnation. 

He wants his uncle. 

He wants Ozzy.

He wants his mom. 

He needs to contact the party- let them know that their NPC was forced to go rogue. For the first time all night he moves from his hidden position, hair and vest now all dry. He stretches out his stiff limbs, cringing at the many pops they emit. 

Okay Eddie, time to think.

He’s just finished forming his plan of snatching a walkie-talkie from a construction site when he hears movement behind him. He scurries back into his hiding spot with his heart in his ass and a hand over his mouth. 

“-you sure he’s here?” Dustin asks in his usual bitchy tone.

Whoever he’s talking to doesn’t respond in words but with a low sigh that’s plagued with familiarity. Eddie’s heart stutters. It feels like he’s stuck to the rock and peeling himself away as he moves to respond to Dustin’s calls, legs like liquid as that sigh replays over and over in his mind.

There’s no way…

Ozzy. . .?

“Munson?” Steve asks into the woods, not a question like Dustin’s many 'Eddie?''s but instead something full of worry. Like he already knows Eddie’s here. Something in Eddie breaks. 

“I’m- I’m here. I’m here!” Eddie plasters on a wide fake smile, stepping out from his spot just in time to see Steve shrug on a jacket over his shirt. Dustin barrels into him, nearly knocking him off his feet as sentence after worried sentence falls all at once out of the kid’s mouth. Eddie laughs nervously, eyes stuck on Steve’s unreadable expression. He tries to make sense of what Dustin is saying, but apparently not well enough. “-ddie. Eddie!”

Eddie glances down at Dustin, returning the kid’s frown with a smile.

“You okay?” It’s not Dustin to ask, but Steve. Eddie’s head jerks up, eyes catching with Steve’s brown ones. His hair shines like the sun in the woods, familiarity chokes at him. 

“Yeah- yeah- I-.” Steve frowns and Eddie can’t help but mirror it. “How did you find me?”

Dustin lets go of him. “We heard about Patrick after pulling up to Rick’s… the cops were there.”

“What happened?”

Eddie flinches slightly at the soft tone Steve had used, heart beating as fast as his mind is spiraling. “Um-”

Dustin interrupts him. “Did anything different happen? Was it the same as Chrissy?” Eddie flinches slightly at her name but the kid doesn’t seem to notice. “Did you talk to him?”

“Dustin.” Steve sighs- it sounds the same-, an annoyed clench to his jaw. 

Dustin looks back at Steve, seeming to realize what he’s doing. “Shit- sorry Eddie, we should wait to talk about it for when everyone else gets here.” Dustin digs in his backpack, pulling out a walkie and alerting the rest of the party that they're at Skull Rock. 

“I told you Steve would find him.” Robin’s voice comes through, altered by the technology. “His nose is not to be messed with.” After that Dustin scrambles away into the woods, hissing quietly into the walkie something Eddie can’t hear. 

“Your… nose?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed in confusion. 

He watches as Steve opens and closes his mouth, for the first time in the history that Eddie had known him, seemingly lost for words. “Uh- she meant she knows that we’d find you.”

Eddie blinks, narrowing his eyes. “How did you find me?”

“Skull Rock is one of the more popular hiding spots.” Steve says a bit too quickly. 

Eddie remembers why it is and can't help but laugh. “Of course you’d have the path to it memorized.” 

Steve’s tense shoulders deflate and he gives a breathy chuckle of his own, though it sounds more relieved than anything.

“They’ll be here soon Steve.” Dustin says as he comes back into the clearing. “They don’t know the way, I’ll stay with Eddie if you…”

Steve gets the hint and sends the boy a double thumbs up as he happily jogs into the woods and away from his conversation with Eddie. Eddie frowns at his disappearing back, catching only the beginning of Steve shrugging off his jacket before Dustin is catching his attention.

“You lost your walkie-talkie.” It’s not a question and Eddie feels himself cringe away from the boy’s near glare.

“I didn’t really have time to pack anything up.” It would have all been lost in the water anyways. 

“News flash, Eddie- they don’t grow on trees. If it wasn’t for Steve we would have never known if you were still alive!” Okay, so Dustin’s mad mad. “And if you were-” Dustin doesn’t say the word. “-then by the time we’d have found you- Max would be gone too!”

Eddie feels himself deflate. “I was planning on stealing one from a construction site if that’s any help.” 

Dustin opens his mouth to speak but then closes it as he processes what Eddie just said. “How the fuck were you planning on doing that?”

Eddie smiles, a small thing. “Roll for stealth and hope for the best?"

Dustin- surprisingly- laughs, a near hysterical thing erupting from his mouth and forcing him to hold onto his knees, his eyes are wide and almost disbelieving. When he stops laughing he looks at Eddie, really looks and whatever he sees makes him not say anything, an understanding crossing the boy’s features. Eddie fidgets under the scrutiny, wishing he had his DM power to make Dustin stop. But Dustin is the more experienced one here, from the pieces he’s been able to pick up- Dustin has been here through everything. It’s weird, to not feel like the adult in the (metaphorical) room when the only other person around is fourteen years old. 

‘Fifteen’ the Dustin in his mind corrects. The Dustin in front of him stares at the dirt.

They don’t speak for a while.

When Steve returns it’s with the rest of the party and bags full of food.

“Oh, Jesus H. Christ, I could kiss you.” Eddie near moans as Steve hands him a bag digging into the contents and cracking open the first lukewarm coca-cola he sees. He chugs it, hiding a burp with his hand as self-consciousness creeps up his spine.  Steve is watching him with a strange wide eyed expression, and the realization of what Eddie just said hits him. He does his best to play it off however. “What? You want some?” 

Steve sighs and shakes his head, walking over to where Dustin is staring with a frown at his compass.

They let Eddie eat before asking him any question, but when they do they don’t sugar coat it. 

“Uhhh, I saw Patrick die and then I did what I’ve seem to become really fucking good at: running away.” A heightened laugh escapes weakly from his lips, guilt still eating at him. 

“Do you know what time it was?” Nancy asks, arms crossed in her typical Wheeler fashion. Her and Mike are so similar, and that’s why Eddie knows they’d kill him if he ever pointed it out. “The attack?”

“Yeah uh-” Eddie looks down at his watch, suddenly glad he was wearing the damn broken thing. “I’m not the only thing that got soaked- here.” He takes it off, tossing it to her.

“Nine twenty-seven.”

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin takes the watch, examining it and then knocking her knuckles against the clock-face before tossing it back to Eddie.

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve asks with his hands on his hips, his shirt ridden up slightly where it’s scrunched by his hands. Eddie pointedly doesn’t look as he puts the watch back on. 

“That’s when the lights went crazy at the Creel house!” Dustin exclaims, looking vaguely similar to how he always does before figuring out whatever malicious plot Eddie had put him through in a game. “That means we were right below him when he killed Patrick! Just on the other side.”

The others look pale in comparison to Dustin’s proud ‘I figured it out’ grin, though at Dustin’s realization the others aren't in fact thrilled about this his- smile falters into a grimace.

“I just don’t get it!” Lucas huffs as he glares holes into his shoes. “Why Patrick?”

“He targets people with secrets, right?” Nancy muses, glancing at Max who is looking at Lucas with an unreadable expression on his face.

Steve shifts on his feet and when Eddie glances up at him he finds that Steve is already looking at him, a pained look poorly hidden in the strain on his face. Eddie watches, confused as Steve lets out a low miserable sigh, looking away from Eddie’s probably dumbfounded expression and to the rest of the group. He crosses his arms. “If that’s the case wouldn’t the rest of us be at risk too?”

“I think it has to do with the emotion behind the secret.” Max finally speaks, her earphone perched on her shoulders as the sound of Kate Bush coming from them lightly fills the silence that follows, the party waiting for her to explain. She seems to clam up at the undivided attention. “I- um- I-”

“And if I only could I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get him to swap our places.” Kate sings mournfully from Max’s headphones. And- oh. Steve inhales a sharp breath next to Eddie, eyes wide.

“Max-” Lucas’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, taking everyone's attention. Eddie feels his own heart give a small crack as he watches Lucas’s shatter.

She pointedly ignores his outburst, shrugging off his touch when he tries to reach for her. “I walked in on Chrissy puking in the bathrooms before the pep rally.”

Eddie blinks, a horrible suspicion making itself known. “Oh. Fuck.” He wants to puke himself, feeling altogether sick at his realization.

All eyes turn to him, but it’s Steve who he makes eye contact with.

“When she d- got Vecna’d, she was at my place for the strong stuff.” Eddie runs a hand up his face and into his hair, wishing to hide away as he watches Steve’s mind slowly understand. He turns to the others, the brown eyes that feel far too much like home overwhelming him, he doesn’t deserve the comfort that they bring him. Especially not when- “she was probably going to kill herself with it.”

“So you have to want to die for Vecna to come after you.” Robin breathes, breaking the silence before it even begins. 

Eddie glances back at Steve, following his gaze to Max who now has her earphones over her ears again, eyes looking wet as she glares at the rock behind Eddie. Lucas is still staring at her, his hands visibly trembling. 

“Patrick had a bad home life.” Steve says, grimacing slightly as the party all looks at him with varying expressions. “He never talked about it, but it was obvious. Once you know the signs it’s hard not to tell.” 

Eddie fidgets slightly with his sleeve, the burn marks below nearly gone from the years between then and now. 

“What about Fred then?” Nancy asks, her journalistic mind clearly at work. “He seemed fine for the most part.”

“What about his scar?” Robin points out, both figuratively and literally, her finger raised slightly. “I caught him glaring at it a few times, maybe whatever caused it is his reason.”

“But we don’t know for certain-” Nancy begins, only to be cut off.

“That’s still three out of the four people, Nance.” Steve interrupts, the nickname licking fire through Eddie’s insides. Despite his little plan, he feels miserable imagining them back together. “I’d take that shot.”

“Steve’s right.” Dustin pipes up, everyone but Eddie turning to gawk at the kid. Hey, Eddie’s the one who had to hear the little prick sing near love songs about the jock, so forgive him if he’s not surprised. “It’s a lead.”

“I still think we should check.” Nancy sighs, brows pinching as she thinks. “I’m worried about what Max said about him seeming stronger, what if he opened a gate?"

“A gate?” Eddie asks the same time Dustin makes a strange choking sound.

“Of course!” Dustin waves his compass in the air. “Electromagnetic fields!”

Everyone stares at him like he has grown two heads, except Lucas who seems to understand exactly what Dustin is saying. “There’s a gate! Where?!”

“Steve, you’re the one who said you invented Skull Rock. What’s directly in that direction?” Dustin points into the woods.

Eddie looks at Steve just in time to see Steve’s eyes widen, understanding dawning on him as he and the rest of them catch up- he must know what a gate already is then at least. But then all of Eddie’s wandering thoughts are squashed as Steve answers the question, a dark expression blanketing the man’s beautiful face. 

“The lake.”

Eddie once again wishes he could run.

___

Tag list:

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@gutterflower77 @ollyxar @i-amthepizzaman @d-isenchxnted @devondespresso

@queenie-ofthe-void @chaosgremlinmunson @here4thetrama @finalmoondragon @theohohmoment

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@nebulaoz @geekymagicalpotato @mydysfunctionallife

[recklessandlazy]

All I ever want is a little touch starved Steve Harrington and a little tactile sensory seeking Eddie Munson—just, as a treat, anyone?

[felixir-of-moths]

Here you go @recklessandlazy ✨ I hope you'll like it!! It's more like a prequel to something that a whole fic, really

1k | r:G | Open ending | Post-canon, TouchstarvedSteve, TactileEddie, pre-Steddie, Feeling Realization, Steve needs a Hug but doesn't know it yet, Eddie is a Sweetheart and somebody needs to tell him, Will has a crush on Eddie.

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair.

It's not that he doesn't like Eddie — that would be easier to explain why he never lingers. Why he waits by his car until the kids jolt out of the trailer in a hubbub and never comes inside.

"Dude, stop being awkward," Mike says once. "At least wave at him or something."

So Steve waves. Eddie watches the kids arguing, laughing, hauling inside Steve's car and his eyes trail to reach Steve's. Who waves. With the tiniest ghost of a smile, and as Eddie beams in response Steve feels his own chest clutching. A cold fist closes on his heart and doesn't let go.

"Well… what do you know? That was even worse," Dustin grouse once they're finally driving away. "Are you still scared of him or something?"

"I'm not — what do you mean, am I still — I was never scared of Eddie," Steve snaps. "Not scared then, not scared now."

"So why are you always so weird? You could come in, watch us playing — or even just say hi. Normal stuff."

Normal stuff. Yeah, right. Except there's nothing normal about Eddie.

"It's just that…" Steve drawls, eyes on the road, mouth still open as he ponders how to say it without creating a diplomatic incident. Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Will are completely silent now, staring at him expectantly. "… he can be a bit — you now."

"Loud?"

"Talkative?"

"Dramatic?"

"Intimidating?"

Steve groans in frustration once every kid is done with their suggestions. "No, it's not — it's the way he's always, you know. In your space."

"Oh — yeah, he's affectionate," Lucas chimes. "Before the Upside Down, he was always roughhousing with us, but now he's more… grounded, I think. More chill."

"Yeah, he hugs us and everything," Dustin agrees.

"And none of you find that, I don't know, weird? Clingy? It's not making anybody uncomfortable?"

Mike, Dustin and Lucas shake their head, frowning and squinting their eyes, and Steve feels like an idiot. But then, Will is staying awfully still. Like, maybe if he doesn't move, nobody will notice he dodged the question.

So Steve turns the car around and change his itinerary, dropping everybody but Will. The boy is nervous as hell, hands fidgeting on his knees, his lanky silhouette now almost too big for the car seat. When Steve parks in front of the Byers' house, it's already pretty late in the summer night.

"So?" he says simply as he puts the car to a stop. "You're gonna tell me, or do I have to interrogate you?"

"It's nothing," Will mumbles, averting his eyes. "I don't like when people invade my space, that's all."

"But there's something specific about the way Eddie does it," Steve guesses, and Will nods sheepishly. "I'm not gonna make fun of you or anything, Will — I don't even understand why it makes me uncomfortable."

"I'm sure we have extremely different reasons to feel uncomfortable when a hot guy is hugging us, Steve," Will replies with pink cheeks.

"Oh."

"I can't say anything because then Eddie would feel awkward. So I just… I try to remember that it's his way of being friendly. That it doesn't mean anything."

"That's — yeah, that's not what I feel, I'm pretty sure of that. But that sounds difficult. For you."

Will shrugs and takes his seat belt off. "I'll live. Like I said, I can't really tell him to back off without being obvious with my dumb pathetic crush —"

"— hey, stop that," Steve cuts him with a frown. "Don't talk about yourself like that, man. You're great. It's okay to have feelings, especially when you're, well… in your, uh, situation. Crushing on a friend is not the end of the world, you'll get over it. You'll see."

The next week, Steve has made up his mind. Since he's not crushing on Eddie, there are no reason for him to be anxious about a little physical contact. The kids are never gonna stop bugging him if he doesn't try. So this time, he shows up early at the trailer park.

Eddie is smoking outside, sitting on the porch, while the kids are packing their dices and notebooks and everything. Steve walks toward him as casually as he can, bracing himself for the moment Eddie will hug him or lean his face close to Steve's or squeeze his shoulder…

But nothing happens. Steve stands right in front of him and Eddie doesn't even stand up, just gives him a wide smile.

"Still playing taxi, Harrington?" Eddie teases. Steve nods quietly, crossing his arms on his chest. He feels absolutely stupid now. "They're gonna be done in a minute."

Eddie pats the spot next to him and Steve diligently sits besides him. Eddie is still smiling, and the constant buzzing energy that he's usually wrapped in is somehow gone. He looks calm, serene. The silence stretches. Steve can feel the heat of Eddie's body next to ease — he was so sure Eddie was gonna be as clingy with him as he is with the kids. Or Robin. Or Nancy.

So… why?

Maybe he knows I don't like touching, Steve guesses. Maybe he's being considerate. But… Then Eddie would surely had notice how Will turns into a crimson mess when Eddie pulls him into a bear hug or ruffles his hair. No, there must be something about Steve that keeps Eddie from being his natural touch-junkie self.

And that shouldn't bother Steve, really, since he doesn't want Eddie's hand all over himself. He should feel glad. Relieved. Thankful even.

Yep. That's how he feels.

No, that's not — that's not at all how Steve is feeling right now, because neither relief nor gratitude make your chest crumble on itself like your lungs were crushed. The distress raises at an alarming speed — his breath is uneven now, and he has to wipe his forehead where his hair are stuck by dampness. He can't name that feeling but he recognizes it. That's how he felt when he was forced by strange and stranger circumstances to spend time next to Nancy Wheeler while they weren't an item anymore. The constant pull toward her, the persistent buzzing under his skin telling, screaming at him to touch her. And the thick, impermeable yet invisible wall between them, forbidding him to get closer, to hold her hand, to smell her hair.

"Dude — are you alright? You look like you're gonna puke or something," Eddie asks softly, and doing so, he reaches a hand to feel Steve's forehead.

Steve melts instantly, shamefully into the touch. His eyes flutter close instantly and a small, high pitched whine escapes his parted lips. That's when the door of the trailer slams open, startling them both. Eddie draws his back and Steve stands so quick their head almost collide together.

The kids talk — Steve can't even comprehend a single word they're saying as they all hop in the car. He follows them, then turn around to stride back toward Eddie who is still staring at him, dumbfounded.

"Sorry," is what Steve manages to drop before strutting back to the car, jumping on the driver seat and turning the ignition faster than he ever did in his life.

[malikat24601]

“I don’t know how to be romantic like that. How to show her that I’m more than just a friend.”

“I’ll help you,” Eddie answered without thinking. “I can give you the words.”

Steve turned to him, eyes shocked wide. “How?” he asked incredulously. “Why, Eds?”

(Because I love you.)

“Because you’re my best friend,” Eddie said instead.

“You’re the best,” Steve replied, visibly pleased. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to write love letters.”

So excited to finally share Dear Steve, a Steddie love letters fic. A birthday collab made with ❤️ for @mbeebinds

Rated: E

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Chapters: 10/10

Words: 75,361

Tags: Post S4, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Scars, Visual Impairment, Eddie Lives, Eddie as Cyrano de Bergerac, Eddie is a Hopeless Romantic, Epistolary Fic, Steddie Summer Vibes, Steve and Eddie are BFFs, Painfully Clueless Steve, Painfully Mismatched Stancy, CompHet, Angst, Slow Burn, Stolen Kiss, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Amnesia, Vecna Battle 2: Electric Boogaloo, Phone Sex, There Was Only One Bed, Tender Smut, Virgin Eddie, Top Eddie, Bottom Steve, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Tooth Rotting Fluff But You Have To Work For It, Found Family, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Happy Ending Guaranteed, Blindness, Finding Your Way When You Thought You Never Would Again

Link: Dear Steve

Link to Podfic: DS Pod Edition

And finally, on a personal note: I want to thank everyone involved in the creation of this project. The past 3 months have been NUTS, but it's also been the funnest, most satisfying project I've ever done. It brought me so much joy to sit down and make art with my friends for our friend. It's everything I've loved about being in this fandom. So from me to you, endless thanks

💌 @staymagical for coming up with the idea, betaing, designing and binding it

💌 @tone-mariie for the gorgeous art

💌 @celestial-abyss-ay for the incredible podfic

💌 @ok-peepaw for betaing and brainstorming (and in general putting up with me on the daily)

💌 @mbeebinds for being born 😘 Sorry we all been lying to you for months and months hehehe LOVE YOU

[stevieschrodinger]

The Adventures of Edwin Munson

Part One FortyFive

“Missed you,” Eddie leans really close, watching as Stevie frowns, then wrinkles up his nose.

“Was right here,” Stevie answers, still sleepy, eyes still closed. Stevie yawns, and Eddie tilts his head to see right to the back. Stevie’s teeth are there, and he’s pink on the inside, but then his tongue gets in the way and Stevie closes his mouth again.

“No, you go somewhere else when you’re dreaming.”

Steve blows air out of his nose, then a small laugh, “okay baby.”

Half packet of goldfish.

Eddie sprinkles them into the lunch box.

No, whole packet.

Eddie sprinkles the rest.

Stevie Love likes goldfish.

Apple, sandwich, goldfish, Eddie stares down at it a little longer. Stevie Love really likes fruit, so Eddie adds a pear. The he decides he wants the pear himself, and swaps it for a banana. He views their lunch boxes, sitting next to each other on the counter. Eddie is pretty sure he’s not missing anything.

He tears off the corner of a cereal box flap, carefully drawing a heart on it before he drops it into Stevie Loves lunch box.

There. All done. Finished.

Eddie lets himself into the back of the flower shop. There’s been a delivery, Eddie can smell it. There’s new scents of flowers since yesterday. It was the delivery man that Eddie likes. He looks old, like Hopper, and smells like a kind of cigarette Eddie’s never smelled anywhere else, and Eddie can still smell the shadow of it in the air. They’re made with brown paper, Eddie has seen. But he always whistles wherever he goes, and Eddie likes that.

“Eddie? That you hon?”

“It’s me!” Eddie calls back. He pauses, still gripping at his hung up jacket, pursing his lips. He blows. Nothing happens though, no noise comes out.

“Just sorting a delivery!”

Eddie puts his lunch box in the tiny fridge, he gets his apron, popping it over his head, crossing the strings behind his back and tying a careful bow in front, twist, over, loop loop, pull.

Eddie goes through his morning routine, carefully watering and tidying and rotating the buckets. Some get topped up, but some get swapped out for fresh water, Eddie carefully scenting the flowers and the water as he goes, “more sugar, I think.”

“Sure honey, you do it,” Chrissy answers absently, putting all the new deliveries carefully into their buckets for Eddie to rearrange. “I’ll start on the orders for today in a minute, okay?”

“We will be fine out here,” Eddie replies, “Chrissy, this one needs the medicine!” Eddie carries the bucket out, his nose itchy and twitching. Eddie drains the water, swapping flowers out into a fresh bucket, scrubbing and rinsing the old one.

Chrissy tuts, "I said don't lift them, they're heavy!"

"Not so bad," Eddie tells her, but she's shaking her head at him. It's hard to get used to, sometimes Eddie forgets that the baby is there.

Chrissy comes to do the medicine for him, “how many drops?”

Eddie hums, pretending like he’s thinking. Chrissy always questions him if he answers too fast, “four?” he volunteers.

“Sounds good to me,” she adds a few drops of the chemicals to some fresh water, this bucket smelt a little musty, and Eddie knows it means something is growing in the water that shouldn’t be, so it’s Eddie’s job to make sure it gets tipped away and cleaned and the flowers all get a fresh bath.

But Chrissy won’t let him touch the chemicals any more; not since the baby.

Eddie sweeps up the dust and lost leaves, arranging the new buckets and all their little name and price signs. He pauses, trying to blow again. No noise. Eddie wets his lips, pursing them and trying again. Still nothing. He frowns, “Chrissy do you know how to whistle?”

“I know,” she calls from the back room, whistling a few wavering notes, “but I’m not very good.”

“Can you teach me?”

“I can try! Can Steve whistle?”

“I...yeah. He does a bit sometimes. He makes like a…” Eddie struggles to communicate the noise, “like a woo wooooooo noise?”

Chrissy immediately bursts out laughing, she looks happy though, when her head pops through the doorway, “Eddie that’s a wolf whistle. It means he...well, when does he normally do that?”

Eddie frowns, thinking, “not sure,” he goes to his knees to shift the front row of buckets along, “sometimes when I’m getting changed?”

“Uh hu,” she waggles her eyebrows.

Eddie knows what that means. It means she means something about sex. “Oh. Oh is it when he thinks I-”

Eddie struggles to articulate it for a second.

“It’s when he thinks you’re being extra hot, hun.”

“Yeah,” Eddie grins, “Stevie Love is always hot. If I learn how to whistle, I’ll have to do it all the time.”

Chrissy disappears back through the door to the back, cackling. “Don’t forget we’re closing early!” she calls once she’s stopped laughing.

“I know,” Eddie calls back absently, “car needs to go to the hos-pital.”

“It’s called a garage, Eddie!”

I know it. Garage.

Eddie checks the list he has in his head; Buckets and flowers and labels all neat. Floor tidy. He checks behind the register, quickly straightening everything, making sure the ribbons and twine and wrapping paper are all right. The pens are where they should be; two on top of the register drawer. The note cards are stacked, clean and neat and tidy, and the little clips to hold them. Business cards. Everything looks right.

Eddie pulls the blinds up, unlocks the door, and then flips the sign. The pink princess watch says he’s done it five minutes early, but still, the cheery little bell above the door tinkles, and Eddie smiles at their first customer.

Eddie waves to Chrissy as she pulls out of the driveway, watching as her car gets smaller and smaller as it travels away up the street. He hopes the garage can fix the strange squeaking noise. Chrissy can hear it, but it doesn’t hurt her the way it does Eddie.

Eddie waits until she’s all the way gone, turning, crunchy something makes a noise under his foot. A little card. There’s a blue eagle on it, and it has a red and white boarder. Eddie picks it up, turning it over; “they missed me. They have a parcel,” Eddie works it out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a card like this before.

It says it’s something for Stevie Love.

It says it’s at the post office. Eddie knows where that is, he’s walked past it before. Eddie frowns, thinking, he’s pretty sure it’s somewhere between the flower shop and the library. One of those streets.

It says he needs identification. And something with an address.

The drawer in the little table in the hall has loads of things with the house address on it. Bills. Stevie Love has to pay them, to keep on the water and the lights and the quiet thrumming humming noises of the power in the walls.

And maybe the nice people who take away the trash, but Eddie thinks that maybe that’s tax. Like the roads. And Hopper.

It’s been a long time since Stevie Love explained it.

Stevie Love isn’t home until after half four, Eddie checks his watch. He thinks he has time to walk there and back.

And it means Stevie Love won’t have to go out again, so that’s good.

Eddie considers, briefly, calling Stevie at work so he can collect it on his way home but...Eddie thinks maybe he needs the little Eagle card. And maybe the Bills.

Decided, Eddie heads back out, locking the door behind him.

Eddie scowls into the wind. He doesn’t like it. It makes things move sometimes, and produces funny noises in the house. Also you can’t see it, which just seems...not right. He knows there was wind in the before, because there must have been, but...he can’t remember it ever bothering him like it does now.

It’s also full of smells, some of them confusing and from far away. It makes it even harder to find the post office. A lot of buildings on this street, and the one over, look the same. It’s nothing like The Upside Down, where Eddie could follow scent, and the feel of vibrations under his hands would alert him to danger.

Eddie looks around, orienting himself, and he suddenly knows where he is, Family Video is right there. Robin.

Eddie’s pushing the door open without really having made the choice to even head that way, “Hi Robin.”

“Hey Eddie,” she stands from where she was leaning against the counter, “no Steve?”

Eddie shakes his head no. “He’s still at work.”

“Okay well...I kind of wanted to talk to you, anyway,” she goes on tip toe, peering around the store, double checking they’re alone. “So I’ve thought about it, and I know Steve will probably, like, insist it’s him, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Eddie agrees, nodding, unsure as to what they’re talking about. Things usually...work their way out though. Sometimes people have to talk a little more before Eddie figures it out.

“Good. And I have really thought about it, so I mean it, so we can tell Steve together.”

“Yes,” Eddie nods more, “tell Stevie what?”

“That it should be me. My toes.”

No, Eddie still doesn’t understand, he’s pretty sure, “your toes?”

Robin’s nodding, which means yes, “for the baby. Eddie, he can’t lose any more toes, I’m pretty sure you need them for like, balance. So, yeah. If the baby needs to eat a toe or two,” she takes a deep breath, “it’s going to be mine.”

Eddie wriggles his toes inside his boots. He’s pretty sure his toes might not be any good if their baby needs them. And Robin is probably right that Stevie Love shouldn’t lose any more toes. “Okay!”

“Okay, good. And don’t tell Chrissy, she thinks she’s argued me down to us giving one toe each, but her toes are like, really cute Eddie, it would be a literal crime.”

Eddie nods, back on steady ground. This he understands, “Stevie Love has cute toes too. The ones that are left, anyway. Oh! Do you know how to whistle?”

Eddie spots the big blue bird half way down the second street, right where Robin told him. It didn’t take too long. He likes the red stripes in the windows; the stars.

He licks his lips again, makes the shape like Robin showed him, but, still, no noise.

From the flag, Eddie knows the pattern is from the flag. He doesn’t like the flag at the moment though, where it is above the door, sticking out from the building. It makes a harsh snapping noise, and Eddie has to resist flinching.

The buzzer over the door makes a horrible noise too, the buzzing seeming to wait in Eddie’s ears for a little while afterwards. Eddie much prefers the sweet soft tinkle of the bell at the flower store.

Eddie looks around, they sell things here, like a normal store, but there’s also a desk with people waiting, so Eddie joins the back of the queue.

“Edwin Munson,” Eddie tells the lady behind the counter, producing the card and his drivers license and the folded together Bills, “I really like your bird button.”

The lady smiles at him, “it’s a broach. A peacock.”

“I’ve never seen a peacock. Not a real one. Only on the T.V.”

“You don’t get out much? Pretty sure they have them at the petting zoo.”

Eddie vaguely remembers Stevie mentioning the petting zoo, at Christmas, “do they have reindeer?”

“Yeah, two. I take my grand kids there sometimes, they love it.”

Eddie nods. Maybe Stevie Love will take me.

“So, this isn’t for you?”

“It’s not for me,” Eddie grins, excited to tell her, “it’s for my best friend Stevie, I wanted to be helpful and come get this for him.”

“So that means the name here is Steve Harrington,” the lady looks from the card to something else, “well that’s very thoughtful of you Mister Munson...”

Eddie leans up on tip toe, peering over the counter, “thank you ma’am.”

She smiles at him for that. Joyce says manners are important.

“I’m sorry to say though, I need to I.D of the person named on the parcel. I’m afraid you can’t collect for someone else. Here you are Mister Munson.”

The Bills, Eddie’s drivers license, and the little card get passed back to Eddie, “you need proper authorization, so either written consent or you need to be named on the re-delivery request. Sorry.”

Eddie feels sad that he can’t help Stevie Love. And that he’s walked in the wind for no reason.

“Huh. Thought I was the only Munson in town,” a gruff voice speaks next to Eddie. It’s a man, older than Stevie Love. Maybe even older than Hopper. “You new around here?”

Eddie perks up, meeting someone new, “yes! Very new!”

“Oh, where’d you blow in from?”

Eddie frowns, briefly concerned about the wind, but he thinks he understands, “where did I come from?” The man frowns but nods, “Finland!”

“Oh aren't you a little sweetheart,” the lady behind the counter tells Eddie, handing him a plastic wrapped sucker from a dish on the counter.

“Thank you! I like the green ones.”

The Man, the other Munson, holds the door open for Eddie as they head out onto the side walk, “no idea where my family name is from, to tell you the truth. Maybe we’re related,” the man shifts the brim of his cap up and down, chuckling, before offering his hand to Eddie to shake, “Wayne Munson, nice to meet you.”

“Eddie Munson,” Eddie grins, he doesn’t get to shake hands with new people very often, “nice to meet you too.”

“Plans for the rest of the day?” Wayne has a hat on, and he sort of lifts the front part and gives it a little wiggle before settling it again.

“Got to walk home again now. Stevie has the car for work.”

“Harrington, right?”

Eddie nods, “he’s going to be home soon.”

They start walking, Wayne must need to go the same way, “you don’t have your own car? It’s a little tough to get around here without.”

“I know, but, it’s expensive. And,” Eddie struggles, can’t say about the baby. Can’t say about the wedding. Can’t say about maybe needing to move out, “they cost money.”

“Sure, but you got a job, dont’cha?”

Wayne says, ‘don’t you?’ all funny, all smudged together. Eddie nods, “yes! I work at the flower shop with my friend Chrissy. I like it very much.”

“Right so...everyone should have their own things son, if they want them, you can afford it.”

Eddie shrugs again, not sure, “I’ll talk to Stevie,” Stevie says we mustn't tell lies, but he knows they need to save as much as they can, and Eddie doesn’t really need a car right now, Stevie takes him to work and Chrissy brings him home. And Stevie Love takes him to band practice on his way to basketball, “Stevie keeps all my money safe.”

Wayne stops walking, so Eddie does too. He does that thing again, with his hat, “he does, does he?”

Eddie nods, “Stevie is the best!”

“Right and...what about your family? Are you going to go home to visit or..?”

“Oh no. I live here now! I don’t have any family.”

Wayne does the hat thing again, “but you...have your passport right?” Wayne’s voice sounds different, but Eddie doesn’t know what it means. Wayne is frowning, and that...sometimes isn’t good.

“I have one, Stevie keeps it safe for me.”

Wayne makes a noise. “I...listen, kid...tell you what, lets go and get a coffee?” Wayne points to a diner across the street.

“Oh no, I’m not allowed coffee.”

Wayne’s eyes go bigger, and then he sighs even bigger than that. He mumbles, ‘holy shit’ very quietly, but Eddie’s pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear. The wind blows again, and Wayne smells like dusty old cigarette smoke and a tiny bit like old sweat. “Okay, how about I get whatever you want to drink?”

Eddie perks up, “I really like milkshakes,” and the wind blows again, and Eddie would like to be inside.

“Okay son, whatever you want, on me.”

"Whatever I want? Do you know how to whistle?"

The diner is noisy, and full of smells. This place has the kind of milkshakes that are made from the ice cream, so you can pick any flavor. Eddie has mint choc chip.

Even though it’s noisy, Eddie can still pick out what Wayne is saying from all the way over here. The funny material of the bench is a little creaky under Eddie’s butt, and he wriggles side to side to make it creak and squeak more.

The lady behind the counter seems nice, and when Wayne begs use of their phone, she shrugs and says ‘sure hon,’ before pulling it out and resting it on the counter.

Eddie perks up when Wayne says ‘Hopper,’ and he wonders if he’s talking about the Hopper Eddie knows, who maybe a Grass Hopper, like from the lawn.

Eddie slurps on his drink, and Wayne says, 'I really think this kid is in trouble.'

Eddie wonders who is in trouble, maybe Eddie can help.

“Listen son, uhm, do you want a ride home?”

Eddie looks out the window, the stars and stripes across the street is still wriggling madly in the wind, “okay!”

“I just need to swing in somewhere on the way, is that okay?”

Eddie does up his seat belt. Safe. “Okay! Robin said I have to lick my lips and make a little doughnut."

"Yeah..." Wayne pulls away from the curb, driving along the street, "you kind of curl up your tongue and keep it to the back of your teeth."

Eddie tries again, but Wayne stops him almost right away, "don't blow so hard. Go softly."

Carefully. Gently.

Eddie tries again, and makes a small thready sound, almost starling himself, he looks over at Wayne, wide eyed.

"Now you're getting it," Wayne laughs.

Eddie presses his nose to the glass, he’s almost certain he’s never been here before, new place.

“You want to come in a minute?”

“Sure,” Eddie slides out of Wayne’s truck, following him in. There are some signs around the long low building, Eddie knows, ‘county,’ but he sounds out, 'pre-cinct' slowly in his head.

There’s a lot of smells, but Eddie picks out Hopper pretty much the same time he sees the sign for Police.

There are people through the double doors, and some sitting at the untidy desks, and Wayne is talking to someone, asking for Hopper. Eddie grins, he’s getting to see where Hopper works! He follows along after Wayne, and Hopper even has his name on a door, which is nice for him.

Wayne talks to Hopper, Wayne sort of holding the door almost all the way closed, so Eddie listens through the gap, “so you think this kid is being held against his will?”

“Yeah but...he might not know it because he’s kinda’...different.”

“He might not know he’s being held against his will?” Hopper says, very slowly, “look, Wayne-”

“You never know what those Harrington’s-”

“Harrington?” Hopper sighs, “Eddie, get in here!”

Wayne moves a step to the side, and for the first time ever, Eddie gets to see where Hopper works. It smells very strongly of cigarettes. “Hello Hopper,” Eddie waves.

“Don’t tell me you’re...involved in this somehow Hopper-”

Hoppers already pulling a little bottle of something dark colored out of a drawer, “I really, really, wish I wasn’t.”

“Hopper, I’m not above reporting you as well when I-”

Hopper pours two glasses, “Jesus Wayne sit down, Eddie close the door.”

Wayne is staring off across the street and, sort of, chewing on nothing. Sometimes he mutters something to himself.

“Hopper’s going to take me home,” Eddie finally tells him.

“Yeah. Okay.”

But Wayne doesn’t really move, “are you okay?”

“I...I mean.” He takes a deep breath, “kind of hard to be, when you find out something like this. Always knew there was something going on with that place. And when that kid went missing, that didn’t add up, neither. Russians under the mall…” Wayne shakes his head, muttering to himself.

Wayne looks...sad. Eddie can’t tell exactly, because he doesn’t know Wayne that well. But he doesn’t look like Chrissy did when they told her. Hopper left out a lot of stuff though, El’s mind powers, the toes, Eddie and Steve being engaged, some other stuff. Hopper said he’ll tell Wayne the rest the next time they go fishing.

“Do you...do you want to come to a pot luck, at the weekend?”

Wayne finally turns, frowning, “pot luck?”

“Yeah,” Eddie brightens, “Hopper’s coming, and Joyce, and all the kids. It’s at mine and Stevie’s, and it means you can meet everyone and...Stevie's really nice. You’ll see.”

“I...suppose I will.”

Eddie gives a little whistle.

[ao3feed-steve-eddie]

by Jordyn_Undead

Eddie’s breath hitched once he registered who the voice belonged to, someone he’d never expected to crawl into his bed and scruff him. An alpha who wouldn’t even cast his beautiful hazel eyes in the freak’s direction for fear it’d taint his reputation. Someone who blossomed into a ‘good dude’ after high school and would chauffeur around the younger members of Hellfire each D&D session.

“Harrington?” Eddie pressed out, cheek squished into the mattress.

Chuckling, Steve planted a kiss on the side of the omega’s head and tightened his grip on the back of his neck. “The one and only, sweet boy.”

OR

Eddie couldn’t wait to lose himself in the excitement at summer camp; hanging with his pack, long hikes in the wilderness, swimming in the lake. However, an unexpected visitor crept into his cabin during the night and changed his life forever.

Words: 10268, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Gareth (Stranger Things), Jeff (Stranger Things), Dustin Henderson, Hellfire Club (Stranger Things)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Fast Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Fluffy Ending, Acquaintances to Soulmates, Summer Camp, Recreational Drug Use, smoking weed, Cabins, Storms, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates, True Mates, Top Steve Harrington, Bottom Eddie Munson, Alpha Steve Harrington, Omega Eddie Munson, Creep Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Delusional Steve Harrington, Virgin Eddie Munson, Steve “The Oral King” Harrington, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Very Mild Dubious Consent At First, But Eddie Eventually Gets Really Into It and Gives Full Consent, scruffing, Scenting, Knotting, Mating Bites, Intersex Omegas, Kissing, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Hair-pulling, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Steve Harrington Has a Breeding Kink, Biting, Marking, Blood, slight virginity kink, Wet & Messy, Steve Harrington Has a Big Dick

[malikat24601]

Inspired by: And They Were Roommates by kdqt314 🖤🖤🖤

Robin heaves another sigh, well aware that no one will pay any attention to it, like she isn’t a full one-third of this household. If someone didn’t know any better, they might think that she was at least partly to blame for the insufferable situation in which she had found herself. Well, they were wrong. After all, how could Robin possibly have foreseen the way two idiots could pine after one another, missing stolen glances by only seconds? How could she have known that living with two dudes was somehow so much grosser than just the one? It was like, exponentially worse since Steve had come to live with them. And she loved him, she did—platonic soulmates for life—but she really, really hated the way her dingus had changed the vibe.

Here's the thing...

Surprise? And happiest birthday to my beloved @ladydarklord angel of my life. Thank you for all the laughs and the unhinged voice notes and writing and creating together and and and!! 🎉🥳🎂😘✨️

Now everyone go read their fics and give them some steddie birthday love DO IT 🫵

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

Part One, Part Five, Part Six (you are here)

Also on Ao3

We got a long one, boys!

Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie is, by every measure, freaking the fuck out.

Thursday had been crazy. Bat shit. A fever dream if he ever had one.

He had been determined to seek Steve out. Eddie might not consider himself very brave, but he wasn’t about to squander even the smallest chance he had with a guy like Steve. Yeah, they didn’t know each other very well, but even outside of his unprecedented lust for the guy, something about him made Eddie want to reach out. To grab his hand and never let go.

But then Steve came in late, setting up in the same spot as normal college-esque rules of ‘everyone has a seat even if there are no assigned seats’ persisted in Chrissy’s jock classroom. And then he was up and across the room before Eddie could finish cleaning his mat. And then he was locked in conversation with Chrissy.

Did it start a strange gurgling feeling in his stomach, as if his body was physically digesting any kind of hope he had built up as an act of self preservation?

Yes.

Until Chrissy was turning his way, telling him that Steve had invited them to go out after class next week.

Which quickly devolved into a one-in-a-lifetime act from God’s most beautiful mime, some truly terrible lying, and unspoken promises of violence from his best friend.

It turned out that not only was Steve beautiful and kind enough to pick up unfit men off the floor, but he was also clever and giving and just a little bitchy in a way that made Eddie feel feral. He went home that night and wondered if that little bout of defensiveness, Steve’s unimpressed but not unkind regard for his dramatics, was more his personality than Eddie initially thought.

God, he hoped so.

He’d been so blinded by biceps and smiles and wide hands on sturdy hips that he’d put himself in a situation.

—--

“What if I told you I had a bit of a proposition for you, Stevie?” Jesus H. Christ, Steve was letting him get so close. Eddie could smell him again. Cedar and sweat. Mmmmm.

“What kind of proposition?” Steve was saying something. He should tune back in.

“Huh?” He asked, completely distracted. Was that vanilla? Maybe some spices?

Oh, the crossed arms were back. Eddie liked those. Really showed off the biceps. And the moles on the biceps. And the dark hairs and the - “You just said you had a ‘proposition’ for me.” Steve said, air quotes implied in his tone of voice. That lilt of delicious bitchiness back. Yummy. Aaaaand he’s still talking. Focus! “You alright, man?”

Eddie blinked back to himself, leaning back out of Steve’s space to preserve his own sanity and whatever was left of his dignity. Get it together, you perv. “Yes, ah, of course, my proposition,” he spluttered. In all honesty, he had kind of lost the thread. Oh, right. “Seeing as you and I both have a vested interest in the happenings of two young scholars, I think a little sleuthing might be in order.”

Eddie got to watch in real time as Steve’s brow furrowed, making one adorable little caterpillar Eddie really wanted to bite. He never really got it when people said scrunched noses were cute, but he was very quickly learning. 

“What?”

He smiled, the familiar buzz of impending trickery bubbling up under his skin.

“We should spy on their date,” he said, smile stretching across his face. The one Wayne always said meant trouble.

Steve’s face cleared, a smile of his own blooming under Eddie’s watchful eye. If Steve was the kind of guy who enjoyed a bit of mischief, Eddie was really a goner.

“Hell yeah, man.”

Oh boy.

—--

Now it’s the day before class, and he’s freaking out.

It’s not a date. He’s not delusional enough to think that, but it’s something. Real time spent with Steve outside of yoga class. Does he dress up? Should he bring some kind of offering? It’s not a date, but if he plays all his cards right and emulates his most charming self, maybe it could turn into one.

Chrissy is already suspicious, so he’ll need to pack an extra set of clothes if he wants to look nice, which he does. He’s on thin ice with her as is, if she suspects that he’s got non-Wayne related plans later that evening, she’ll have his ass, and there’s really only one person he’d like to hand his ass over to at the moment.

So he’ll need to bring some kind of gym bag. He could barf. Him, with a gym bag. His own mat that Chrissy bought him, complete with strap. High ponytails, Walmart gym shorts, and a fucking gym bag with a water bottle and a change of nice clothes for after his workout.

Who has he become?

But it’s all worth it. The exercise, the lying to Chrissy, the betrayal of his ideals, for one prize beyond price.

Steve’s phone number. Saved in his shitty Motarolla, upping its resale value by at least a million dollars.

Eddie would sell his soul any day for that phone number. Who needs ideals when they have a direct line to Venus?

And he’s going to make good use of it. Not to be creepy, no, but a little conversation never hurt anyone, and Eddie has questions. Pressing, immediate questions. And he and Steve are practically friends now. Aquatences with plans to hang out and spy on their lesbian best friends. It’s a romance that practically writes itself.

Eddie: What’s the vibe of the restaurant? Fancy? Lowkey? Fast casual dining? Bar?

Eddie: Do I need to break out the wingtips?

Cool. That was cool, right? Casual. Just a little funny. Cheeky even. Boys liked cheeky, he’s pretty sure he read that once. Steve is going to be eating out of the palm of his hand in no time.

He is decidedly not prepared for Steve’s swift response. The buzz of his phone in his hand making him panic. Throwing it across the room is a perfectly natural response. Thank Dio for off-brand OtterBoxes.

Steve Munson <3: This Eddie?

Steve Munson<3: I let Robin pick. It’s a vegan place, real cutesy. Kind of a bistro without the brooding vibe. Jeans and a clean shirt should be fine.

Cutesy, Chrissy loves a cutesy vegan vibe. Eddie can hear wedding bells. Maybe a double wedding, then. Eddie and Chrissy in matching dresses and Steve and Robin in matching suits. It could be cute.

Eddie: Damn, so no slutty shorts? 😔

Too much, too much, too much. Steve does not want to think about him in slutty little shorts. It’s a well established fact that he’s got a pancake back there.

Steve Munson <3: Sorry. Next time we’ll hit the club

Next time. Next time. Implying future outings. Implying future instances in which Steve will bless him with his presence outside of a 45-minute yoga course he was forced into. Maybe in a slutty outfit. Maybe he’ll let Eddie talk about DnD and the book he was reading and —

Bzz

Steve Munson <3: I’ve been looking for an excuse to break out the mesh crop top anyway.

Jesus H. Christ on a cracker. Eddie was going to explode. Or melt on the floor. Or pass out from lack of blood flow to his head.

He scrambled for a reply, not wanting to give Steve any reason to backtrack.

Eddie: Promises, promises. I’ll hold you to it, big boy

Thirty seconds, then a minute, then two minutes pass, which in virtual time might as well be an hour, pass without a response. He’s in the middle of typing out a rushed apology, complete with insistence that a demon had possessed him for a brief moment, when his phone buzzes again.

Steve Munson <3: I keep my promises, Munson.

This can’t be real.

Eddie: Good 😜

—---

Thursday dawns bright and sunny, a perfect spring day primed for romance.

Eddie starts his day with a call to Wayne. Eddie had clued him in to the plan as soon as he left with Steve’s number last week. Chrissy was sure to call and confirm his alibi for herself. Wayne loved her and they were in consistent contact. He’s pretty sure Wayne answers more of her texts than his.

Luckily, that love was something Eddie could play off. Wayne wanted them both to find partners, and he was more than willing to play along to set her up with someone Eddie approved of. Technically, he’s never met Robin himself, but there were enough glowing reviews from Steve and Chrissy that he felt like he could give her the stamp.

Eddie makes sure to project his voice just a little bit more than usual. He knows Chrissy is listening in.

“Yeah, yeah, old man. I’ll be there. 6 PM sharp.” His voice is too loud, he knows. High school theater didn’t prepare him for this.

“Boy, I don’t know if I should be disappointed or proud that I raised such a bad liar,” Wayne gripes. They both know this phone call is bullshit.

“Shut up.” That one was real.

“You gonna let me get off this phone any time soon?” Wayne grumbles. The man is semi-retired and spends all his free time out in the garden. He’s probably thinking about the “dew point” and “getting out before the sun peaks” or whatever. No time to spare for his only son. What a grouch.

“I’ll tell Chrissy you said hi. And thank Jeremy for me. Appreciate him dropping you off.” There, natural. Ms. Willson would be proud.

“You better. I want to hear about this date. You’re calling me tomorrow,” Wayne says.

“Alright, old man. See you later.” He hangs up with little flair.

He’s got an outfit to plan.

—---

Class progresses as normal. Chirssy spent the whole morning giving him the side eye, but she didn’t say anything before she left for work. All in all, the best he could have hoped for from his nosy best friend. She was probably too busy thinking about her own outfit to impress Robin with.

He got to watch Steve come in to class from his spot on the floor. He was wearing the yoga pants again. Everything was tucked away properly, but nothing could fully hide that bulge. Eddie knows he has a big dick, he just knows it. He may have never seen any besides his own outside of porn, but he has a sense for these things.

Steve gives him one of those little waves again before turning around to set up. The lady next to him gives an audible sigh as he turns around, peachy ass on full display. 

Solidarity, sister.

To his utter dismay, the class is actually getting easier. He can feel the muscles in his arm firming up and the ever present ache in his hip loosening with every class. He will never, ever tell Chrissy she was right.

He makes a show of silently packing up his mat as they go into the cool down. It’s usually his favorite part of the whole afair, anything called corpse post was bound to speak to him, but he told Chrissy he had to leave early to make it back to Hawkins in time. It serves the dual purpose of selling the ruse and saving both him and Steve from potential scrutiny when they left together. Eddie would be parked down the street in his van, where Steve would meet him.

For their not date.

He cranked the AC and jumped in the back. He didn’t risk stopping for a shower and taking too long, but he came prepared with his gym bag in the back. He stripped down, changed into his dark red, plain t-shirt with a little pocket on the front with no utility, and his nicest black jeans. A fresh application of deodorant, the return of his rings and guilar pick necklace, and the addition of his favorite sword earrings made the look complete. 

He looked pretty hot, if he did say so himself.

He only had to wait a couple of minutes, drumming out the beat of Rainbow In The Dark before the passenger door was yanked open.

Steve out of his workout clothes is bad for his heart. He’s exactly as pretty and jockey as Eddie imagined him to be. 80s style polo, light wash Levi's, perfectly white sneakers. If Eddie thought he smelt amazing after the workout, it was nothing compared to this freshly touched up version of him.

Spice and vanilla and cedar. Eddie hopes it lingers on the seat.

“Man, you should have seen Chrissy’s face. Red as a tomato, I swear. This is going to rock.” Steve was animated, clearly excited by the success of their plan.

“Don’t celebrate too soon, my good sir. There is much merriment yet to be had this night!”

Steve laughs. Full bellied and definitely too much for the half joke. He’s different from how Eddie has seen him before. Looser. Last week, he’d been stressed. Most weeks he was focused, in the yoga zone, and after Eddie’s little tumble, he had been gentle.

This Steve seemed boisterous. Fun. Eddie really hopes he got to see more of him tonight. He’s so lost in his own admiration that he almost, almost, missed the appreciative look Steve sends him from the corner of his eye.

Score.

“I reckon we got twenty minutes before Chrissy heads out. She’s probably going to touch up her eyeshadow and let her hair down. Robin is going to be begging on her knees.” He doesn’t acknowledge the look. Not too fast.

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve says, laughing as he pulls a sturdy brown leather watch from his pocket to fix back on his wrist. Eddie can’t help but be charmed by it. Not a lot of people are out there wearing watches these days, not with phones always close at hand. Eddie, perpetually late as he is, has worn Wayne’s old piece since he was 11.

It makes him think of a future with ten-year anniversary gifts. Matching watches, their anniversary etched into the back. Maybe it won’t be with Steve, even if he isn’t letting go of the absurd hope that it will be, but he thinks the sentiment will stay with him. Something to hold on to, even if it’s doomed to crash and burn.

“Alright,” Steve snaps him out of his reverie, bringing his hands together in a single loud clap. “Let’s get this show on the road. I want to get the perfect spot in the bar room. Robin always picks a place in the dining room. Should be a perfect view.”

“Let’s get this chariot on the road!” Eddie puts the pedal to the metal, Steve grabbing for the 'oh shit' handle and cursing him out. Eddie cackles, easing off the gas. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to spook ya.” Eddie feels giddy.

“Whatever, Munson. Just don’t kill us before we get there. Robin is my emergency contact, and that would totally kill the vibe.” His tone is annoyed, but that beautiful smile hasn’t left his face.

—---

Steve was right. Roots is all pink walls, light wood, and hand painted signs. It’s cute in that pretentious “we charge $20 for our cocktails” kind of way. AKA, the kind of place Chrissy will love. Eddie is going to love it too, because Steve insisted that dinner and drinks were on him tonight.

The hostess walks them to the actual bar, but Steve asks for one of the little tables in the corner. It’s a little thing, but it makes Eddie’s heart pitter-patter. For all his bravado, he’s the kind of guy who won’t send things back to the kitchen even if they’re raw. Steve makes his request with ease and kindness.

Their table is tucked away, but has great sightlines to the main room. It’s even got some conveniently placed plants in various sizes, hopefully enough to hide them from early detection. He makes a show of pulling out Steve’s chair. Enough of a gesture to be kind, goofy enough not to be taken too seriously.

“I get the chickpea faux chicken sandwich. It’s amazing. Doesn’t taste like chicken at all, though, so be warned.” Steve says, looking down at the menu after they’ve settled in and gotten the spiel from their server.

Luckily, Chrissy has been vegetarian since they graduated high school. He’s been to his fair share of vegan and vegetarian spots through the years and knows his way around these coded menus.

“I’m eying this coconut kung pao. Seems weird.” Eddie likes to try strange foods every now and then. Keeps him young and alive.

“Whatever you want, man, but I’m not sharing if you hate it,” Steve says. There’s no sting in his words, just light teasing.

“Oh, ye of little faith. If it’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, I’m not giving you a taste. How about that?” Steve gives him a pointed look. Eyebrows raising a little like he wants to make an inappropriate comment but is holding back.

Uh oh, too much. Abort. His brain can not handle hearing a dirty joke come out of Steve’s mouth. It would kill him.

He coughs loudly, making a show of thumping his chest. “Uh, anyway! How long have you known Robin? You said you live together?” Steve is kind enough to give him the out.

“Summer job. Well, it was a summer job for her. It was a normal job for me.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, eyes distant as he pulls up the dusty memories. “We went to high school together, but we didn’t talk or anything. I was kind of a dick, and she was a band kid.” It’s a familiar story, in a way. Chrissy and him only collided in Eddie’s last senior year, two people on opposite sides of the social scales.

Steve talks with his hands. Waving them around to emphasize his point, his mood more discernible by his movements than his face. “Anyway. We didn’t get along at first. Then there was this whole…thing. A fire while we were closing. Got trapped together for a while and became best friends, Soulmates, really.” He averts his gaze, looking out into the bar to avoid Eddie’s gaze.

That was…a lot. Like, Jesus. Eddie’s no stranger to trauma, but trapped in a burning building on the clock is kind of next level.

“That’s rough, man. I mean, I’ve been through some shit but that’s heavy.” Was that condescending? Is he making it about himself? Not-dating but trying to date is hard. “But, at least you got Robin out of it. She seems cool.” That, at least, seems to be the right thing to say. Steve brightens up, the distance in his eyes closing.

“She’s the best. Like, so smart. She’s one of those, fuck I forget, a polymorph? Someone who’s crazy good with language.” He’s so cute, Eddie could just eat him up.

“A polyglot?” He asks. One of his NPCs two campaigns ago had been a polyglot.

Steve snaps his finger, giving him that dorky finger gun again. “Yes, that’s it. She’s studying –” He’s cut off by their waitress coming around to take their orders. He has to resist the urge to glare holes into the side of her face. Steve was in the middle of talking, rambling even, and Eddie had been happily soaking it in.

They placed their orders. Steve getting his sandwich and a fruity peach cocktail and Eddie pairing his kung pao with a huckleberry mule. 

“You were saying?” Eddie suddenly feels like his time is running out. This feels so much like a date. Steve, so handsome, sitting across from him, paying for his meal, and telling him about his life. The girls will be here any minute, but he wants to sit in this moment for a little longer. Make the most of it before the bubble bursts and their focus turns to their friends.

“Oh, yeah.” He seems surprised, like maybe he expected them to drop it. “She’s getting her degree in linguistics. I didn’t even know, but apparently there’s a bunch of native languages are like, going extinct. She wants to work with a bunch of tribes to keep the languages alive.” He looks so fucking proud of her, it makes his heart clench. He hopes he looks half as proud of Chrissy when he talks about her. She deserves it.

“That’s really cool.” He knows he must have a love sick look on his face, but at this point, he doesn’t care. Let Steve see.

He gets to watch as Steve’s face flushes, just a little. Freckles shining sweetly on top of pretty pink cheeks. Eddie lets himself lean in, letting the silence build as he leans his head on his hand, content to stare at the man in front of him.

It’s Steve’s turn to cough, lifting his fist to his mouth like a cartoon character. Eddie just smiles more. “So, uh, how’d you meet Chrissy?” He’s so cute, not looking Eddie right in the eye. Just a little childish. 

“Kind of similar story, actually. Chrissy was –” and then it’s his turn to be cut off. Not by their waitress, but by Steve’s own hand, covering his mouth.

“Shit, sorry. But also, shhh .” Steve brings his finger up to his lips, and suddenly Eddie doesn’t give a shit if Steve is pushing his top lip into his teeth. What a view. Perfectly plush. “They’re here.”

Oh, right. Eddie had just about managed to forget. This is a mission. Not a date.

He turns his chair sideways, peering his head around their convenient potted plant.

Chrissy came ready to kill. She’s in one of her favorite pleated skirts, the blue one with the loop she had Eddie sew on so she could put cute charms on it. She’s got her lesbian flag, the Keroppi charm Eddie harvested from an old earring, and their school mascot. She’s wearing one of those high-neck shirts without sleeves that makes Eddie wonder about bras and where they disappear to.

She’s smiling. The perfect one that made half the school leave love letters in her locker and had Eddie questioning if he wasn’t as gay as he thought for a fleeting moment in senior year. You got this, Chris.

Robin isn’t exactly what he imagined, but upon further thought, she’s exactly the kind of girl he could see Chrissy with. She’s tall, at least half a foot taller than Chrissy. She’s toeing so many lines, Eddie is happy to admit he’s impressed. Stunning and mousey. Masculine and feminine. Confident and unbearably anxious.

Even from far away, he can tell Robin is freaking out. Her mouth hasn’t stopped moving and she’s already downed half her water, almost tipping over the rest with a wave of her hand.

Steve has sooted closer, leaning his head in near Eddie’s for a better view. He can feel his breath on the back of his neck, raising the hairs there. He can also hear his pained groan loud and clear, even as he collapses back into his seat to hide behind one of his large hands.

“She’s doing the thing again,” he groans.

Before he can ask, their waitress comes back with their drinks. She gives them a bit of a look at their strange seating arrangement, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie gives her his most winning smile.

He takes a sip, amused by Steve’s distressed muttering. The drink is good. He has no idea what a huckleberry is, but it makes a nice $17 beverage. 

“So what’s the thing?” He asked, letting his amusement leak into his voice. This is fun.

Steve lets out another loud groan. Luckily, the crowd had picked up enough that there’s no way the girls heard him across the room. He takes another look, smiling as he sees Chrissy twirling her hair around a finger. She’s definitely into whatever Robin’s deal is.

The pursuit of alcohol is enough to get Steve to unveil those pretty hazel eyes again. He makes a face. Guess the peach drink isn’t that great. 

“It’s the rambling. When she’s around a pretty girl, she gets nervous. Can’t make herself stop talking. I thought, since she sees Chrissy in class, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.” He lets out a little breath, a reluctantly fond smile tickling the corners of his mouth. “It would be cute, but sometimes people think she only wants to talk about herself.”

Eddie looks back again. Chrissy is smiling and talking animatedly, while Robin looks at her with stars in her eyes. He pulls the foliage aside a little, clearing the view for Steve. “I don’t know, man. Chrissy doesn’t seem to mind,” he says. 

Steve looks at the duo with soft eyes, love for his best friend shining through his every pore, shoulders relaxing into his seat.

Eddie is so deeply fucked

And he loves the feeling.

------

Next time: Part two of the "not-dates"

Tag List

@aroseandherthorns @child-of-cuthulu @lumoschildextra @warlordess @zzzzesty @watermelonmite @ignoretenderness @pretend-theres-a-name-here @waelkyring @irishbeings @dontslayfay @depressed-andobsessed @exasperatedsighohmy @imacowboy3 @that-one-gay-crow @stranger-things-yapper @wheneverfeasible xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @practicallybegging @yesdangerpls @glitterytyrantchopshop

[steddieunderdogfics]

Is it ok to self-promote?? I wrote this one recently and it’s very near and dear to my heart, and just wish it got into the hands of more Steddie fans. ❤️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64081951/chapters/164413234

40 Year Old Virgin by SteveLovesEddie

@katethetank

Rating: Explicit

23,697 words, 8/8 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Eddie Munson is a Mess, Reunions, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Virgin Eddie Munson, Divorced Steve Harrington, Confessions, Touch-Starved Eddie Munson, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, POV Eddie Munson, Post-Divorce, Infertility, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Grinding, Coming In Pants, Hand Jobs, Steve Harrington Has a Big Dick, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Anal Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Anal Sex, Loss of Virginity

Summary:

In 1986, the world was saved by a ragtag group of misfits. After the dust settled and the town healed, the unsung heroes of Hawkins started trickling out and chasing their dreams. Before he knew it, Eddie was the last one left. A high school dropout, gay virgin, littered with scars and trauma, with no means to get out and nowhere to go. He resigns himself to a life of solitude and his right hand. Twenty years later, and nothing has changed. Until Hawkins' prodigal son returns. Recently divorced, openly queer, and bringing back all the feelings that Eddie had for him when the world was ending. He survived hell. Can he survive reuniting with Steve Harrington?

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

[yesdangerpls]

Try, Try Again Pt 3: The Van

Attempt number three in Eddie's Van.

rating: E | cw: none | tags: 5+1, pwp, virgin Eddie, POV Eddie, coitus interruptus

Pt. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Also on AO3

⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️

Eddie is many things. He’s smart, despite what O’Donnell says. He cares about people, just not the people who don’t care about him. He’s resourceful as all hell.

Patient, Eddie is not.

Now that he knows Steve is willing to help him out, so to speak, and that Eddie is sure he actually means it, Eddie’s libido is off to the races, so to speak. He’s never come so many times so closely together, that day after Steve left, with the promise of figuring it out later. Of hooking up in Eddie’s van. Or Steve’s car, he’s not picky.

The van will definitely have more room, but hooking up in Steve’s backseat… Now that’s a fantasy, right there.

It’s even more of a fantasy when Steve calls him. It’s not like Steve’s never called Eddie before, they call each other all the time—to check in after a nightmare, to figure out plans for the weekend, to check if the other’s home before driving over—it’s just that figuring out plans had never been quite this intense, at least on Eddie’s side. He’s practically vibrating, curling the cord around his finger like a damn teenager, biting his lip to keep from giggling as they talk it through, and talk it through they do.

Eddie is in no way happy to wait until Steve’s parents leave again. Their travel schedules are irregular at best, and they never tell Steve when they’re leaving or will be back, barely remembering to leave their contact numbers half the time. They’re supposed to leave in a couple weeks, but that’s far too long to wait, now that the end to his virginity is in sight.

They could try the trailer again, but—well. Eddie isn’t willing to risk Wayne coming home again, not during their first time together.

The thought of more times later sends a thrill up his spine. Something to aspire to.

Anyway, Eddie is willing but not exactly eager to wait until Steve’s folks leave again, the trailer is a no go, so that leaves their cars.

Car or van…

The car is hot as hell. A classic Harrington experience, if the rumors are true.

On the other hand, it’s not Steve and some smaller girl, it’s Steve and him, another boy, one nearly the same height and twice as gangly. The chances of Eddie taking another spill, this time into a headrest or the gear shift or something, is not out of the realm of possibility, and taking another pause to clean up a nosebleed or cut does not appeal to Eddie, not at all.

Then there’s his van. An obvious choice, one Steve’s been in before. Enough room for them to roll around a bit, maybe make out some more, rub off on Steve’s thigh a bit—

But it’s, well, not exactly romantic.

Not that their hookup needs to be romantic!

That’s what Eddie tells himself, at least, as he cleans out the back of his van. He throws out what trash he finds: several beer cans, half-smoked joints (he pockets those), receipts, fast food wrappers, at least six or seven assignments from high school he’d completed, but misplaced. No use to him now, and they’re a papercut risk. There’s no mattress he has to spare to make it a proper bed, but he adds as many blankets as he can surreptitiously liberate from the trailer. His pillow, too.

This has to be the cleanest the back has been in years, maybe since he got the thing.

Even still, the van smells like weed, so he airs it out as best he can, even adds a few spritzes of a cologne he’d bought overly-optimistically back in junior year. It doesn’t really cover it up, more adds a layer of desperation, but that’s fine, and kind of accurate, so.

In the end, the back of the van doesn’t look that different, which is honestly for the best. Steve is doing him a favor, and Eddie is just trying to make him as comfortable as possible while doing that favor. Which is fucking him. Or Eddie fucking Steve.

Oh my god, what if he gets to fuck Steve?

Eddie comes embarrassingly fast thinking about that idea. And about Steve fucking him, for that matter. It had all been kind of abstract until he’d had that thought; it’s still kind of abstract, his fantasies jumping around as he jerks off, it’s all Steve Steve Steve.

The night before their planned rendezvous, Eddie jerks off three times to the jumble of fantasies in his head, until he lies panting in a massive wet spot on his bed.

He checks his watch and sighs. Just twenty hours to go.

The next day comes slowly, then all at once. Then slowly again, then way too fast.

Days can be annoying like that.

Either way, it results in Eddie, despite having prepared carefully for every moment this evening, running late to pick Steve up.

He’s drumming his fingers along the wheel, turning with a little more force than is ideal up into the Harringtons’ drive, taking a deep breath as if he’d just been running a mile. It’s already nearly half an hour past when they’d arranged for Eddie to pick Steve up; what if he got bored of waiting? What if he got dragged into some dinner with his parents or something? What if—

The passenger door opens, and Steve swings into the seat, grinning. He slams the door shut just right so it latches, but not so much that it’ll jam, and clicks the seatbelt in place. Should Eddie be wearing his? He never had in the past, but if Steve’s doing it—maybe it’s a sign that he thinks Eddie’s not being safe, or that—

“Thought you’d never get here, man.”

Eddie pulls at a curl nervously. “Yeah, sorry about that, I—”

Steve’s hand is on his thigh. His hand is on his thigh and a glance at his home shows curtains rustling a bit, and Eddie is suddenly reminded that Steve’s parents are home and they probably are not thrilled at seeing their one and only son getting picked up by the town pariah and Steve’s hand is on his thigh.

“Hey,” Steve squeezes his thigh, which cuts his train of thought short. Short-er. “You okay? We don’t have to do this today.”

Eddie giggles uncontrollably. He didn’t know he could make a sound that shrill, but here we are, because there is no way Eddie wants to put this off again. He didn’t want to put it off the first two times, either, but the universe hates him, clearly.

The warmth of Steve’s fingers is starting to seep through his jeans. Maybe the universe doesn’t entirely hate him.

Eddie squeezes the steering wheel with both hands in an effort to not do something entirely stupid like throw himself at Steve face-first in full view of his parents. “I absolutely want to do this today. As long as you’re still good to do this today? I am good to go. Raring, even.”

“Well, if you’re raring… You gonna start driving anytime soon, Munson?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, yes, yep.”

A quick back-and-turn, and they're off.

The drive to the quarry overlook is quiet—Eddie’d turned his music way down in deference to Steve’s occasional headaches—and both slower (he can feel the heat radiating off of Steve in the passenger seat, feel his gaze when he’s not watching the trees go by, is already half-hard by the time they arrive, he’s been waiting for this for three days and his whole life) and faster (he blinks and they’re there) than Eddie anticipates.

They’d picked here because, well, it was out of the way, at least vaguely romantic, and given the time of year, not exactly populated. The gravel grates under the wheels of the van as they pull up, the only car in the lot, as they’d hoped.

There were backup spots, at least in Eddie’s head. Just in case. Skull rock is too obvious, but the far side of Lover’s Lake would do. If they wanted to be really careful, they could go a town or two over.

If nothing else, Eddie knows Wayne is waking up now-ish, and his route to work is in the opposite direction of the quarry. Wayne seeing him like that once was once too many, if you ask him.

The key turns in Eddie’s clammy grasp, and the van stops its vaguely concerning shuddering. He looks over towards Steve, but can’t help looking away again the second he sees him looking back—smiling back, like Eddie is a particularly charming puppy not understanding a new trick rather than a grown man not understanding but pointedly no longer questioning how he got here.

“So, uh,” Eddie starts, flexing his fingers against the steering wheel, picking slightly at the covering before he catches himself, bringing his hands to his lap and picking at his fingernails instead. “How do you want to—”

Steve leans across the console and silences the thought before it makes it to his lips, cradling Eddie’s chin in a warm, wide palm. Eddie has a passing thought that he should close his eyes, but it doesn’t last long when Steve’s tongue makes its way into his mouth. Eddie had a thought? How silly of him! This is all that matters, the only thought he’ll ever have again.

The kiss breaks, and leaves Eddie's lips warm and lungs heaving as he realizes how much he needs air. Not as much as he needs to keep kissing Steve, of course, so Eddie tries for a moment to pull Steve back in, but the boy in his van retreats the slightest bit. “C’mon, Eddie,” Steve says instead, and moves a hand to Eddie’s wrist, tugging him gently towards the back seat before letting go and clambering over, himself.

Steve’s ass in those jeans notwithstanding, how does he manage to make that look so easy?

Eddie considers, very briefly, climbing over the console to the back himself. Then he remembers the first time he’d tried to hook up with Steve—or Steve had tried to hook up with him? Questions to not ask himself ever if he wants to stay coherent and sane—and sensibly opens the door and shuffles around, half hard in his jeans and all.

He is not risking derailing this again, especially not for something as inconsequential as a nosebleed, let alone the possible concussion if he falls wrong, modest pile of blankets or no.

The moment the van door slams closed behind Eddie, Steve is on him, hands touching what feels like everywhere at once. Cradling his face as Steve leans in to press his lips to Eddie’s; running along his shoulders and down his back; curling around his waist and slipping under the hem of his shirt in a way that takes Eddie’s breath away.

“This okay?” Steve murmurs between kisses, not pausing so much as teasing somehow, pushing the hem up a bare few inches and dropping it down again. He drifts his fingertips along the edges of Eddie’s scars where his skin is far too sensitive, presses into the slight softness just inside Eddie’s hips and pulls at his beltloops in turn.

It’s so much, so suddenly, that Eddie nearly (nearly) forgets to be nervous, forgets how to do anything but gasp and moan into Steve’s mouth, and just nods rather than try to form a coherent response. Hell yes this is okay, more than okay, he feels like he’s on fire. Eddie’s dick is already pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans, as hard as he’s ever been, and all they’ve done this time is kiss.

Even if he’s never been kissed like this before Steve. Maybe especially then.

Steve drags his hand a little higher under Eddie’s shirt, dragging a thumb across Eddie’s nipple as he pushes his shirt up under his armpits, and Eddie can’t help himself, moaning uncontrollably. He feels hypersensitive to every touch. His hips buck forward, searching for anything to provide friction, and again, they’re both still fully clothed and Eddie hasn’t even done anything yet—

A problem to be solved. Eddie is great at solving problems, especially with Steve’s help, clearly.

He takes his cues from Steve and lets him push his shirt up, and up, and up until he has to lift his arms and it comes off entirely. Steve throws it to a corner of his carefully-curated back-of-his-van, but who cares when—when this is the first time he’s been shirtless in front of Steve.

Eddie is suddenly incredibly aware of the skin and scars and puckers where tattoos used to be, but Steve is right there with him, dragging his lips down Eddie’s neck, kissing and licking and sucking until he knows there are going to be marks tomorrow, down and down until he meets his nipple again and Christ how did Eddie never realize how sensitive he is?

Maybe it’s just Steve.

Fuck, Eddie still hasn’t done anything, but it’s so hard to think when Steve is everywhere, when Eddie feels like he’s burning up, when Steve bites down lightly and Eddie almost comes in his damn jeans with a thready gasp.

“Steve—Steve wait, I’m gonna—”

Steve pulls back a little, not enough to stop touching him—barely enough for his shirt to stop trailing against his skin—but enough that Eddie has a chance to come back from the edge.

“Eddie? Is this—is it too much?”

“Just—” Eddie is panting, focusing desperately on anything but the sultry sound of Steve’s voice, raspy and hot like it usually isn’t. “Just slow down? Please? I’m—I’m way too close, man.”

And Eddie refuses to come. Not so soon, not when—

Steve nods, resting his forehead to Eddie’s collarbone, stroking his hands—they’re so big, too, and warm, fuck—back and forth around Eddie’s waist. “Slow down. Yeah. Yeah I can do that,” he mutters to himself before speaking up a bit more. “Sure, Eddie. Whatever you need.”

Jesus.

Whatever he needs, huh? …Okay then.

Eddie palms himself, pressing down on his too-hard cock for a moment and takes a deep breath, and another. “Could you—take off your shirt?”

Steve looks up at Eddie intensely, slowly, smiling, and backs up one knee at a time. He keeps eye contact as his shirt makes its way up and off, throwing it next to Eddie’s somewhere in the back, and smirks. “Whatever you need, Eds.”

Eddie whimpers a bit and presses down harder, thinking desperately about anything other than the incredibly hot boy in front of him, while still attempting to memorize every millisecond. One of those is not working particularly well.

Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, what the hell, Steve‽

“You can touch, if you want,” Steve says, dragging his fingers through his chest hair, tugging it lightly. “You liked this, right?”

Eddie whimpers when he tweaks a nipple and nods, helpless. He likes this, too, his cock twitching against where he’s still pressing against his zipper, soaking through his boxers, he’s sure. Even that little pressure feels amazing, too amazing, but he can’t seems to stop, not when Steve is putting on a show like a damn porn star.

“Then come on over, Eds,” he says, leaning back onto his heels. “And… if I’m going too fast, you’re gonna have to lead. I don’t know—I mean, I haven’t really—it’s kind of hard to go slow when you look like—that.”

It’s nice of Steve to say, but he has to know what he looks like. If Eddie looks good, Steve’s a fucking wet dream.

Literally. He has absolutely come to the thought of what might happen in this van every night for the last few days. Sometimes more than once. It’s not even on purpose, he just—

Steve reaches one hand down to cup himself through his jeans, pressing down around the hard line of his cock, making it look even bigger. Fuck, is he going to take that?

“C’mon Eddie, ’m not getting any younger over here.”

“S-sorry!” Eddie says, shuffling forward somewhat less gracefully than Steve had, and reaches out with one trembling hand before one of the many folded-up blankets catches his knee, and he falls somewhat ungracefully forward. “Oh.”

It is not intentional that Eddie ends up with his fingers curled in Steve’s chest hair again, but it is deeply appreciated. Carefully, he drags a thumb over one of Steve’s nipples and gets a gasp and a twitch against his thigh in return, one of Steve’s hands creeping around his waist, clutching as he does it again.

“Yeah… yeah just like that,” Steve breathes, letting his head drop forward to rest on Eddie’s. His other hand comes up to grasp at Eddie’s hip, bringing him forward just a bit, enough that their dicks are pressed together through two layers of denim and two layers of underwear, Steve grinding upwards gently, enough to press their lips together in something that can barely be called a kiss, and Eddie is—Eddie is—

Eddie is going absolutely insane.

There are far too many layers. Far too few. There’s just so much but still not enough—

Eddie refuses to let go of Steve’s nipple, not when he’s getting a reaction like that, but manages to squeeze his other hand down between them, shaking. He pulls away just a little bit, just the smallest possible amount that lets him reach between them and fumble at Steve’s fly. He must be shaking more than he realizes, because no matter how hard he tries, that damned button just won’t open.

Steve chuckles, the rumble of it sending dizzying waves of lust through Eddie. It takes him a moment to realize Steve is talking.

“Here, let me.”

The beautiful boy below him gets his fly undone with a flick of the wrist, then reaches forward to Eddie’s. Even that gentle pressure is enough to get him right up to that edge again, so he pulls his hips away again before Steve manages to unbutton his jeans.

“I don’t—I can’t—Steve,” Eddie pants into his mouth, his hips stuttering forward even as Eddie tries to hold them back. He screws his eys shut, concentrating as much as he can. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Mrs. Click. Wayne having sex. Scales, B, C, D-sharp, B, E minor—okay. Okay.

Steve was onto something, he just—he can’t just touch Eddie like that, not without, without warning or something to prepare himself.

Eddie reaches down and, still shaking and with both hands this time, manages to undo his own jeans, letting them fall loose around his hips. Steve is immediately there, sliding his hand down past the waist and cupping Eddie’s ass through this boxers.

Eddie lets out an embarrassing whine. It feels so good, so, so good, the warmth of those fingers teasing him, testing him, massaging his ass, gripping and pulling him forward and—shit he can feel Steve. He can feel Steve, can feel the head of his cock through their underwear rubbing against his, can feel the wet spot on his—their?—last remaining layers. It’s so hot, Jesus—

His hands reach down, mirroring Steve’s. Considerately, Steve lifts his hips a bit, grinding up and letting Eddie paw at his hips and ass in turn, panting like an animal all the while. It’s everything he’d ever dreamed of and more. “Steve,” he moans, and it’s not enough to convey the rapture Eddie is currently in. Even so, he tries again. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve replies, breathless. “Yeah, what do you need, baby?”

“Fuck, I just—I gotta—” It’s nearly impossible to think, but one thing stands clear: “I gotta touch you, man.”

Steve pulls back, grappling with his boxers, pushing them and his jeans down to his thighs, “Yeah, yeah, do it Eddie, touch me anywhere you want—” and there’s Steve’s dick.

There it is, bobbing in the open, in Eddie’s van, and his eyes widen. Eddie swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

It’s gorgeous, perfect in every way. He didn’t know what he expected Steve’s dick to look like, but... Fuck, he needs that in his mouth now, he needs to—to taste Steve, to swallow him whole—

To start, though, Eddie just… touches him. With his hand.

He’s warm. He’s hot, under Eddie’s palm. Hot, and mostly dry, though the flushed head of Steve’s cock is wet with precome, and gets wetter as Eddie gives a tentative stroke.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, pressing his hips forward into Eddie’s grip once, twice. “Here, let me—” he doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling Eddie’s hand from his dick. Eddie has the fleeting thought that he was doing something wrong, but having thoughts is for people who aren’t hooking up with Steve Harrington in their van, and Eddie is fully reset when Steve brings his hand up to his mouth and licks.

He licks enthusiastically, Steve’s tongue swiping against Eddie’s palm, between his fingers, sucking briefly on his thumb, and then Steve pulls back a bit and spits. It should be gross, drool dripping down Eddie’s wrist, but all he can do is want.

Steve, naturally, lets him have, bringing Eddie’s now-soaked hand back down to his dick, wrapping his own hand around Eddie’s and guiding him down and up and back down again, showing Eddie how to be good for Steve, and Eddie is helpless to do anything but his best, slowly gaining confidence.

It’s kind of like jacking off, which it kind of is, so that makes sense, but it’s still somehow different. Better. It’s Steve, of course it’s better, there’s the warmth outside his thighs where Steve lays below him, there’s the moans tumbling from Steve’s throat as Eddie speeds up just a little, squeezing tighter at the tip like Steve showed him.

“God, Steve, you’re—you’re so hot, I can’t believe you’re letting me do this—”

“Eddie,” Steve breathes out, and it’s the hottest thing Eddie has ever heard.

Then he feels the pressure of Steve’s hands below again, working at his fly. After just a moment, the button and the zipper fall open at Steve’s touch, and he reaches in, and Eddie feels the first touch of Steve’s hands on his dick.

“Oh, oh shit—”

Eddie screws his eyes shut when he comes, despairing that he’s unable to hold it back any longer, and comes between them, all over his boxers and Steve’s hand and Steve’s cock, bursts of light flaring behind his eyelids so much more vivid than any time it’s ever been and Eddie knows it’s because it’s Steve touching him, holy fuck—

Then he hears the siren and a knock on the front window.

His eyes fly open and meet Steve’s, wide and panicked. Those flashes of light were less metaphorical than he thought, blue and red shining outside the tinted windows in the back.

“Shit.” He’s not even sure who says it.

Another knock.

Steve shoves Eddie’s swiftly-shrinking dick back into his come-wet boxers and closes up his pants, ignoring the mess contained, and hisses under his breath, “Go on!”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“Well, I sure as shit can’t talk to them like this!”

“What? Why not?”

“Eddie,” Steve says, gesturing at himself, “look at me.” He’s laying down on Eddie’s blankets, leaning against Eddie’s pillow, almost lounging, with so much skin on display, from his golden shoulders and lush chest hair splattered with Eddie’s release all the way down to his still-hard (though, admittedly, flagging) dick, his jeans and underwear shoved down to his thighs, spots and streaks of white all across him.

Eddie’s come got everywhere.

He looks incredible, and Eddie’s dick gives a valiant twitch. Give him ten minutes and he’ll be back in the running, but—

A third, more insistent knock on the front window.

—maybe Steve has a point.

“What do I tell him‽” Eddie asks helplessly. He’s still coming down, okay? He’s not running on all cylinders quite yet.

“I don’t know, what do you usually say when you’re caught dealing or something?”

“I don’t—”

“Just go!”

A light shove sends Eddie back enough that Steve can start wiping away at the come on his chest—a travesty, really—and enough that a fourth irritated knock firmly smacks the window, and a deep voice makes itself known.

“I can see you in there, Munson.”

Steve pauses and groans quietly. “Oh, god.”

“Is that…?”

Yep. It’s Hopper.

Eddie sighs, covering his face with his hands. First he comes at literally the first touch to his dick by another person, bringing fucking attempt number three to an all-too-quick end, and now this?

“C’mon, Munson, up and at em. Out of the van.”

“Officer, am I being detained?” Eddie shouts, strangled, watching Steve quietly struggle with his own pants.

“Stay inside much longer, answer’s gonna be yes,” Hopper replies dryly.

Okay. Okay. He can crawl over the console without Hopper seeing Steve, probably, if he stays down. Even better if—

Without a second thought, Eddie reaches out and grabs Steve’s shoulder, shoving him down. He gets an indignant grunt, but Steve goes along with it after a moment, sending a confused glance at Eddie when he reaches over Steve, fumbling a bit, and grabs a joint, handing it to Steve.

“Light it up, and stay down,” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear, feeling him shudder under his palm and nod, and raises his voice a bit. “Just a sex—sec! Just a sec! Please!”

He doesn’t want to let go of Steve’s smooth, warm skin, but at this point he kind of has to. He pats his shoulder awkwardly—what is he doing—and makes the decision to hop over the console. He and Steve are already derailed, again; if he gets another nosebleed, at least it’s in the service of not getting caught by the former sheriff in flagrante delicto.

Fortunately, he manages to stumble only a little bit, though the movement of his clothes against the drying come in his boxers is—it should be gross, right? But Eddie can’t help but find it hot. At least, it would be, in maybe a more-intentional situation.

Either way, he successfully scrambles to the front sans injury and throws open the front door with a strained grin. “Officer.”

“Munson,” Hopper growls. His arms are crossed over his chest, looking down on Eddie like he always has. “Are you dumb?”

What? Sometimes, but, “Rude,” Eddie scoffs.

Hopper sighs and frowns, wrinkling his nose at the mild stench of weed starting to eminate from the van. More than its ambient amount, at least, and overcoming the cologne he’d sprayed. At least Steve had enjoyed it. He hopes he’s enjoying the joint now, especially since he—fuck, he didn’t get to come. Shit, he’ll have to make it up to him.

“Y’can’t be out here alone like this, Munson, not while half of Hawkins is still out for blood.”

Eddie snorts. He’s been going out alone since he was eight and a half, he’s hardly going to let—

Somehow, Hopper surprises him again. “I’m serious. You’re off the hook legally, but a lot of that misinformation is still out there. You have to be more careful. Stay with one of us, when you can.”

“What, are you instituting a buddy system?” Eddie asks incredulously.

“Eddie. Not—officially.” He sighs. “Look, I know you’re an adult, but—”

“Hey, Hopp.” Steve leans forward over the driver’s seat, his shirt rumpled but on, not making any effort to hide the joint slowly burning in his hand. “Don’t worry. I got him.”

Hopper’s shoulders relax a hair. “You got your bat, kid? Walkie?”

“Yep,” Steve assures him, pulling a walkie-talkie from somewhere and wiggling it a bit.

“You’ll call if anything happens?”

“You know it. We’ll check in in a few hours, if it’ll make you happy,” Steve says, taking a long pull from the joint.

Hopper nods, edging back towards annoyance. “Okay, well. Try to stick together, is all,” he says gruffly. Then, faster than Eddie can react, he reaches forward and grabs the joint right out of Steve’s mouth, crushing it into the dirt. “And stop smoking that shit where I can see you.”

He walks off, grumbling, and Eddie watches as Hopper’s car drives away through the trees.

All at once, Eddie collapses back into the driver’s seat, the adrenaline from it all hitting him at once, and lets out a strangled laugh.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Eddie sits up. “He almost—we—”

Steve groans at him, laughing even so. “I know, he’s like my dad, what the hell?”

“I don’t…” he swallows heavily. “I don’t know if I can take that, again. Holy shit, I—that was way, way too close.”

“At least you got to come,” Steve says playfully. At least, Eddie thinks it’s playful. Maybe he just wants it to be playful, because the alternative is… embarrassing.

“Yeah, I’m—jeez, I’m so sorry, Steve,” he groans. “I—I tried, I swear. Actually…” Eddie twists to face Steve again, cradling his cheek hopefully, “Do you… I mean, I could…”

“Ehhhh, I think the mood is pretty ruined, Eddie,” Steve says with a soft smile. “It’s okay, you’ll get me next time, right babe?”

Babe. Steve Harrington called him babe and still wants to fool around.

“Plus, I don’t know about you, but, uh, I kind of need a shower like, yesterday,” Steve grimaces, plucking at his shirt.

“…Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie. Seriously.” Steve smiles at him again, and crawls up to the passenger seat. “Though, uh, might have gotten some come on a few of your blankets back there. Want to come to mine? Could do laundry, watch a movie?”

“Aren’t your parents home?”

“…Right. Raincheck, then.”

“And, uh. Let’s maybe not try the van again.”

“God no.” Steve shudders at the thought of getting caught by Hopper again, or worse, anyone not in the know. “We’ll just have to wait until my parents are gone. They’re flying out in maybe ten days, if you can wait that long.”

He really doesn’t want to wait that long, but if that’s the price he pays to try again…

“It’s a date.”

⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️

Gdi, Hopper. Bad timing!

Next time: The Harrington Residence! Or is it?

Pt. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Also on AO3

Tagging @tinytalkingtina!

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

Part One, Part Five, Part Six (you are here)

Also on Ao3

We got a long one, boys!

Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie is, by every measure, freaking the fuck out.

Thursday had been crazy. Bat shit. A fever dream if he ever had one.

He had been determined to seek Steve out. Eddie might not consider himself very brave, but he wasn’t about to squander even the smallest chance he had with a guy like Steve. Yeah, they didn’t know each other very well, but even outside of his unprecedented lust for the guy, something about him made Eddie want to reach out. To grab his hand and never let go.

But then Steve came in late, setting up in the same spot as normal college-esque rules of ‘everyone has a seat even if there are no assigned seats’ persisted in Chrissy’s jock classroom. And then he was up and across the room before Eddie could finish cleaning his mat. And then he was locked in conversation with Chrissy.

Did it start a strange gurgling feeling in his stomach, as if his body was physically digesting any kind of hope he had built up as an act of self preservation?

Yes.

Until Chrissy was turning his way, telling him that Steve had invited them to go out after class next week.

Which quickly devolved into a one-in-a-lifetime act from God’s most beautiful mime, some truly terrible lying, and unspoken promises of violence from his best friend.

It turned out that not only was Steve beautiful and kind enough to pick up unfit men off the floor, but he was also clever and giving and just a little bitchy in a way that made Eddie feel feral. He went home that night and wondered if that little bout of defensiveness, Steve’s unimpressed but not unkind regard for his dramatics, was more his personality than Eddie initially thought.

God, he hoped so.

He’d been so blinded by biceps and smiles and wide hands on sturdy hips that he’d put himself in a situation.

—--

“What if I told you I had a bit of a proposition for you, Stevie?” Jesus H. Christ, Steve was letting him get so close. Eddie could smell him again. Cedar and sweat. Mmmmm.

“What kind of proposition?” Steve was saying something. He should tune back in.

“Huh?” He asked, completely distracted. Was that vanilla? Maybe some spices?

Oh, the crossed arms were back. Eddie liked those. Really showed off the biceps. And the moles on the biceps. And the dark hairs and the - “You just said you had a ‘proposition’ for me.” Steve said, air quotes implied in his tone of voice. That lilt of delicious bitchiness back. Yummy. Aaaaand he’s still talking. Focus! “You alright, man?”

Eddie blinked back to himself, leaning back out of Steve’s space to preserve his own sanity and whatever was left of his dignity. Get it together, you perv . “Yes, ah, of course, my proposition,” he spluttered. In all honesty, he had kind of lost the thread. Oh, right. “Seeing as you and I both have a vested interest in the happenings of two young scholars, I think a little sleuthing might be in order.”

Eddie got to watch in real time as Steve’s brow furrowed, making one adorable little caterpillar Eddie really wanted to bite. He never really got it when people said scrunched noses were cute, but he was very quickly learning. 

“What?”

He smiled, the familiar buzz of impending trickery bubbling up under his skin.

“We should spy on their date,” he said, smile stretching across his face. The one Wayne always said meant trouble.

Steve’s face cleared, a smile of his own blooming under Eddie’s watchful eye. If Steve was the kind of guy who enjoyed a bit of mischief, Eddie was really a goner.

“Hell yeah, man.”

Oh boy.

—--

Now it’s the day before class, and he’s freaking out.

It’s not a date. He’s not delusional enough to think that, but it’s something. Real time spent with Steve outside of yoga class. Does he dress up? Should he bring some kind of offering? It’s not a date, but if he plays all his cards right and emulates his most charming self, maybe it could turn into one.

Chrissy is already suspicious, so he’ll need to pack an extra set of clothes if he wants to look nice, which he does. He’s on thin ice with her as is, if she suspects that he’s got non-Wayne related plans later that evening, she’ll have his ass, and there’s really only one person he’d like to hand his ass over to at the moment.

So he’ll need to bring some kind of gym bag. He could barf. Him, with a gym bag. His own mat that Chrissy bought him, complete with strap. High ponytails, Walmart gym shorts, and a fucking gym bag with a water bottle and a change of nice clothes for after his workout.

Who has he become?

But it’s all worth it. The exercise, the lying to Chrissy, the betrayal of his ideals, for one prize beyond price.

Steve’s phone number. Saved in his shitty Motarolla, upping its resale value by at least a million dollars.

Eddie would sell his soul any day for that phone number. Who needs ideals when they have a direct line to Venus?

And he’s going to make good use of it. Not to be creepy, no, but a little conversation never hurt anyone, and Eddie has questions. Pressing, immediate questions. And he and Steve are practically friends now. Aquatences with plans to hang out and spy on their lesbian best friends. It’s a romance that practically writes itself.

Eddie: What’s the vibe of the restaurant? Fancy? Lowkey? Fast casual dining? Bar?

Eddie: Do I need to break out the wingtips?

Cool. That was cool, right? Casual. Just a little funny. Cheeky even. Boys liked cheeky, he’s pretty sure he read that once. Steve is going to be eating out of the palm of his hand in no time.

He is decidedly not prepared for Steve’s swift response. The buzz of his phone in his hand making him panic. Throwing it across the room is a perfectly natural response. Thank Dio for off-brand OtterBoxes.

Steve Munson <3: This Eddie?

Steve Munson<3: I let Robin pick. It’s a vegan place, real cutesy. Kind of a bistro without the brooding vibe. Jeans and a clean shirt should be fine.

Cutesy, Chrissy loves a cutesy vegan vibe. Eddie can hear wedding bells. Maybe a double wedding, then. Eddie and Chrissy in matching dresses and Steve and Robin in matching suits. It could be cute.

Eddie: Damn, so no slutty shorts? 😔

Too much, too much, too much. Steve does not want to think about him in slutty little shorts. It’s a well established fact that he’s got a pancake back there.

Steve Munson <3: Sorry. Next time we’ll hit the club

Next time. Next time. Implying future outings. Implying future instances in which Steve will bless him with his presence outside of a 45-minute yoga course he was forced into. Maybe in a slutty outfit. Maybe he’ll let Eddie talk about DnD and the book he was reading and —

Bzz

Steve Munson <3: I’ve been looking for an excuse to break out the mesh crop top anyway.

Jesus H. Christ on a cracker. Eddie was going to explode. Or melt on the floor. Or pass out from lack of blood flow to his head.

He scrambled for a reply, not wanting to give Steve any reason to backtrack.

Eddie: Promises, promises. I’ll hold you to it, big boy

Thirty seconds, then a minute, then two minutes pass, which in virtual time might as well be an hour, pass without a response. He’s in the middle of typing out a rushed apology, complete with insistence that a demon had possessed him for a brief moment, when his phone buzzes again.

Steve Munson <3: I keep my promises, Munson.

This can’t be real.

Eddie: Good 😜

—---

Thursday dawns bright and sunny, a perfect spring day primed for romance.

Eddie starts his day with a call to Wayne. Eddie had clued him in to the plan as soon as he left with Steve’s number last week. Chrissy was sure to call and confirm his alibi for herself. Wayne loved her and they were in consistent contact. He’s pretty sure Wayne answers more of her texts than his.

Luckily, that love was something Eddie could play off. Wayne wanted them both to find partners, and he was more than willing to play along to set her up with someone Eddie approved of. Technically, he’s never met Robin himself, but there were enough glowing reviews from Steve and Chrissy that he felt like he could give her the stamp.

Eddie makes sure to project his voice just a little bit more than usual. He knows Chrissy is listening in.

“Yeah, yeah, old man. I’ll be there. 6 PM sharp.” His voice is too loud, he knows. High school theater didn’t prepare him for this.

“Boy, I don’t know if I should be disappointed or proud that I raised such a bad liar,” Wayne gripes. They both know this phone call is bullshit.

“Shut up.” That one was real.

“You gonna let me get off this phone any time soon?” Wayne grumbles. The man is semi-retired and spends all his free time out in the garden. He’s probably thinking about the “dew point” and “getting out before the sun peaks” or whatever. No time to spare for his only son. What a grouch.

“I’ll tell Chrissy you said hi. And thank Jeremy for me. Appreciate him dropping you off.” There, natural. Ms. Willson would be proud.

“You better. I want to hear about this date. You’re calling me tomorrow,” Wayne says.

“Alright, old man. See you later.” He hangs up with little flair.

He’s got an outfit to plan.

—---

Class progresses as normal. Chirssy spent the whole morning giving him the side eye, but she didn’t say anything before she left for work. All in all, the best he could have hoped for from his nosy best friend. She was probably too busy thinking about her own outfit to impress Robin with.

He got to watch Steve come in to class from his spot on the floor. He was wearing the yoga pants again. Everything was tucked away properly, but nothing could fully hide that bulge. Eddie knows he has a big dick, he just knows it. He may have never seen any besides his own outside of porn, but he has a sense for these things.

Steve gives him one of those little waves again before turning around to set up. The lady next to him gives an audible sigh as he turns around, peachy ass on full display. 

Solidarity, sister.

To his utter dismay, the class is actually getting easier. He can feel the muscles in his arm firming up and the ever present ache in his hip loosening with every class. He will never, ever tell Chrissy she was right.

He makes a show of silently packing up his mat as they go into the cool down. It’s usually his favorite part of the whole afair, anything called corpse post was bound to speak to him, but he told Chrissy he had to leave early to make it back to Hawkins in time. It serves the dual purpose of selling the ruse and saving both him and Steve from potential scrutiny when they left together. Eddie would be parked down the street in his van, where Steve would meet him.

For their not date.

He cranked the AC and jumped in the back. He didn’t risk stopping for a shower and taking too long, but he came prepared with his gym bag in the back. He stripped down, changed into his dark red, plain t-shirt with a little pocket on the front with no utility, and his nicest black jeans. A fresh application of deodorant, the return of his rings and guilar pick necklace, and the addition of his favorite sword earrings made the look complete. 

He looked pretty hot, if he did say so himself.

He only had to wait a couple of minutes, drumming out the beat of Rainbow In The Dark before the passenger door was yanked open.

Steve outside of his workout clothes is bad for his heart. He’s exactly as pretty and jockey as Eddie imagined him to be. 80s style polo, light wash Levi's, perfectly white sneakers. If Eddie thought he smelt amazing after the workout, it was nothing compared to this freshly touched up version of him.

Spice and vanilla and cedar. Eddie hopes it lingers on the seat.

“Man, you should have seen Chrissy’s face. Red as a tomato, I swear. This is going to rock.” Steve was animated, clearly excited by the success of their plan.

“Don’t celebrate too soon, my good sir. There is much merriment yet to be had this night!”

Steve laughs. Full bellied and definitely too much for the half joke. He’s different from how Eddie has seen him before. Looser. Last week, he’d been stressed. Most weeks he was focused, in the yoga zone, and after Eddie’s little tumble, he had been gentle.

This Steve seemed boisterous. Fun. Eddie really hopes he got to see more of him tonight. He’s so lost in his own admiration that he almost, almost, missed the appreciative look Steve sends him from the corner of his eye.

Score.

“I reckon we got twenty minutes before Chrissy heads out. She’s probably going to touch up her eyeshadow and let her hair down. Robin is going to be begging on her knees.” He doesn’t acknowledge the look. Not too fast.

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve says, laughing as he pulls a sturdy brown leather watch from his pocket to fix back on his wrist. Eddie can’t help but be charmed by it. Not a lot of people are out there wearing watches these days, not with phones always close at hand. Eddie, perpetually late as he is, has worn Wayne’s old piece since he was 11.

It makes him think of a future with ten-year anniversary gifts. Matching watches, their anniversary etched into the back. Maybe it won’t be with Steve, even if he isn’t letting go of the absurd hope that it will be, but he thinks the sentiment will stay with him. Something to hold on to, even if it’s doomed to crash and burn.

“Alright,” Steve snaps him out of his reverie, bringing his hands together in a single loud clap. “Let’s get this show on the road. I want to get the perfect spot in the bar room. Robin always picks a place in the dining room. Should be a perfect view.”

“Let’s get this chariot on the road!” Eddie puts the pedal to the metal, Steve grabbing for the oh shit handle and cursing him out. Eddie cackles, easing off the gas. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to spook ya.” Eddie feels giddy.

“Whatever, Munson. Just don’t kill us before we get there. Robin is my emergency contact, and that would totally kill the vibe.” His tone is annoyed, but that beautiful smile hasn’t left his face.

—---

Steve was right. Roots is all pink walls, light wood, and hand painted signs. It’s cute in that pretentious “we charge $20 for our cocktails” kind of way. AKA, the kind of place Chrissy will love. Eddie is going to love it too, because Steve insisted that dinner and drinks were on him tonight.

The hostess walks them to the actual bar, but Steve asks for one of the little tables in the corner. It’s a little thing, but it makes Eddie’s heart pitter-patter. For all his bravado, he’s the kind of guy who won’t send things back to the kitchen even if they’re raw. Steve makes his request with ease and kindness.

Their table is tucked away, but has great sightlines to the main room. It’s even got some conveniently placed plants in various sizes, hopefully enough to hide them from early detection. He makes a show of pulling out Steve’s chair. Enough of a gesture to be kind, goofy enough not to be taken too seriously.

“I get the chickpea faux chicken sandwich. It’s amazing. Doesn’t taste like chicken at all, though, so be warned.” Steve says, looking down at the menu after they’ve settled in and gotten the spiel from their server.

Luckily, Chrissy has been vegetarian since they graduated high school. He’s been to his fair share of vegan and vegetarian spots through the years and knows his way around these coded menus.

“I’m eying this coconut kung pao. Seems weird.” Eddie likes to try strange foods every now and then. Keeps him young and alive.

“Whatever you want, man, but I’m not sharing if you hate it,” Steve says. There’s no sting in his words, just light teasing.

“Oh, ye of little faith. If it’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, I’m not giving you a taste. How about that?” Steve gives him a pointed look. Eyebrows raising a little like he wants to make an inappropriate comment but is holding back.

Uh oh, too much. Abort. His brain can not handle hearing a dirty joke come out of Steve’s mouth. It would kill him.

He coughs loudly, making a show of thumping his chest. “Uh, anyway! How long have you known Robin? You said you live together?” Steve is kind enough to give him the out.

“Summer job. Well, it was a summer job for her. It was a normal job for me.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, eyes distant as he pulls up the dusty memories. “We went to high school together, but we didn’t talk or anything. I was kind of a dick, and she was al band kid.” It’s a familiar story, in a way. Chrissy and him only collided in Eddie’s last senior year, two people on opposite sides of the social scales.

Steve talks with his hands. Waving them around to emphasize his point, his mood more discernible by his movements than his face. “Anyway. We didn’t get along at first. Then there was this whole…thing. A fire while we were closing. Got trapped together for a while and became best friends, Soulmates, really.” He averts his gaze, looking out into the bar to avoid Eddie’s gaze.

That was…a lot. Like, Jesus. Eddie’s no stranger to trauma, but trapped in a burning building on the clock is kind of next level.

“That’s rough, man. I mean, I’ve been through some shit but that’s heavy.” Was that condescending? Is he making it about himself? Not-dating but trying to date is hard. “But, at least you got Robin out of it. She seems cool.” That, at least, seems to be the right thing to say. Steve brightens up, the distance in his eyes closing.

“She’s the best. Like, so smart. She’s one of those, fuck I forget, a polymorph? Someone who’s crazy good with language.” He’s so cute, Eddie could just eat him up.

“A polyglot?” He asks. One of his NPCs two campaigns ago had been a polyglot.

Steve snaps his finger, giving him that dorky finger gun again. “Yes, that’s it. She’s studying –” He’s cut off by their waitress coming around to take their orders. He has to resist the urge to glare holes into the side of her face. Steve was in the middle of talking, rambling even, and Eddie had been happily soaking it in.

They placed their orders. Steve getting his sandwich and a fruity peach cocktail and Eddie pairing his kung pao with a huckleberry mule. 

“You were saying?” Eddie suddenly feels like his time is running out. This feels so much like a date. Steve, so handsome, sitting across from him, paying for his meal, and telling him about his life. The girls will be here any minute, but he wants to sit in this moment for a little longer. Make the most of it before the bubble bursts and their focus turns to their friends.

“Oh, yeah.” He seems surprised, like maybe he expected them to drop it. “She’s getting her degree in linguistics. I didn’t even know, but apparently there’s a bunch of native languages are like, going extinct. She wants to work with a bunch of tribes to keep the languages alive.” He looks so fucking proud of her, it makes his heart clench. He hopes he looks half as proud of Chrissy when he talks about her. She deserves it.

“That’s really cool.” He knows he must have a love sick look on his face, but at this point, he doesn’t care. Let Steve see.

He gets to watch as Steve’s face flushes, just a little. Freckles shining sweetly on top of pretty pink cheeks. Eddie lets himself lean in, letting the silence build as he leans his head on his hand, content to stare at the man in front of him.

It’s Steve’s turn to cough, lifting his fist to his mouth like a cartoon character. Eddie just smiles more. “So, uh, how’d you meet Chrissy?” He’s so cute, not looking Eddie right in the eye. Just a little childish. 

“Kind of similar story, actually. Chrissy was –” and then it’s his turn to be cut off. Not by their waitress, but by Steve’s own hand, covering his mouth.

“Shit, sorry. But also, shhh .” Steve brings his finger up to his lips, and suddenly Eddie doesn’t give a shit if Steve is pushing his top lip into his teeth. What a view. Perfectly plush. “They’re here.”

Oh, right. Eddie had just about managed to forget. This is a mission. Not a date.

He turns his chair sideways, peering his head around their convenient potted plant.

Chrissy came ready to kill. She’s in one of her favorite pleated skirts, the blue one with the loop she had Eddie sew on so she could put cute charms on it. She’s got her lesbian flag, the Keroppi charm Eddie harvested from an old earring, and their school mascot. She’s wearing one of those high-neck shirts without sleeves that makes Eddie wonder about bras and where they disappear to.

She’s smiling. The perfect one that made half the school leave love letters in her locker and had Eddie questioning if he wasn’t as gay as he thought for a fleeting moment in senior year. You got this, Chris.

Robin isn’t exactly what he imagined, but upon further thought, she’s exactly the kind of girl he could see Chrissy with. She’s tall, at least half a foot taller than Chrissy. She’s toeing so many lines, Eddie is happy to admit he’s impressed. Stunning and mousey. Masculine and feminine. Confident and unbearably anxious.

Even from far away, he can tell Robin is freaking out. Her mouth hasn’t stopped moving and she’s already downed half her water, almost tipping over the rest with a wave of her hand.

Steve has sooted closer, leaning his head in near Eddie’s for a better view. He can feel his breath on the back of his neck, raising the hairs there. He can also hear his pained groan loud and clear, even as he collapses back into his seat to hide behind one of his large hands.

“She’s doing the thing again,” he groans.

Before he can ask, their waitress comes back with their drinks. She gives them a bit of a look at their strange seating arrangement, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie gives her his most winning smile.

He takes a sip, amused by Steve’s distressed muttering. The drink is good. He has no idea what a huckleberry is, but it makes a nice $17 beverage. 

“So what’s the thing?” He asked, letting his amusement leak into his voice. This is fun.

Steve lets out another loud groan. Luckily, the crowd had picked up enough that there’s no way the girls heard him across the room. He takes another look, smiling as he sees Chrissy twirling her hair around a finger. She’s definitely into whatever Robin’s deal is.

The pursuit of alcohol is enough to get Steve to unveil those pretty hazel eyes again. He makes a face. Guess the peach drink isn’t that great. 

“It’s the rambling. When she’s around a pretty girl, she gets nervous. Can’t make herself stop talking. I thought, since she sees Chrissy in class, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.” He lets out a little breath, a reluctantly fond smile tickling the corners of his mouth. “It would be cute, but sometimes people think she only wants to talk about herself.”

Eddie looks back again. Chrissy is smiling, talking animatedly while Robin looks at her with stars in her eyes. He pulls the foliage aside a little, clearing the view for Steve. “I don’t know, man. Chrissy doesn’t seem to mind,” he says. 

Steve looks at the duo with soft eyes, love for his best friend shining through his every pore, shoulders relaxing into his seat.

Eddie is so deeply fucked

And he loves the feeling.

------

Next time: Part two of the "not-dates"

Tag List

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