Eddie's still a wanted man! ... by you AND the mob, Stevie? -- A Stranger things fic sideblog. Main is do-what-the-knight-tells-you . On AO3 as SSLeif. he/they/she
If Steve and Robin are squatting at WSQK, I need an entire book of Robin and Steve coming up with the idea to take over WSQK, scoping out the station until they’re sure it’s abandoned, cleaning it up and redecorating and trying to figure out how the hell to go on air. How excited do you think Steve was when he realized the owners left the keys to the WSQK van there? How many times did one of them electrocute themselves trying to fix shit? I bet Robin made little posters and they drove around stapling them to every light pole in town. I bet she made a script for the first show and did not stick to it.
So you guys have heard that song edit trend thing I think that goes like:
"A pity she does not exist, a shame he's not a f*g, the only girl I ever loved was Andrew in drag."
So in his sophomore year, Steve Harrington lost a bet.
He had to go to prom, dressed like a girl, because Tommy is an asshole and Carol is too excited to do Steve's make up.
They get him a pink sparkly dress, some lipstick, a long brown wig from a store in Chicago, they were strangely dedicated to making this happen. Steve was going to prom as a woman and he was going to be convincing enough that no one would know it was him. This was before he was super beefy, so honestly, he could pull this off. His name is Stephanie, and according to the rules of the bet, he has to dance with one guy before the night is over.
Steve wants to kill himself when he walks into that dimly lit room.
Eddie was dragged to prom because all of his friends begged him, and sure he was weird, but he wasn't a prick, if it would make them that happy to see him in a tux for a night, so be it. He was just gonna sit by this punch table, maybe y'know, pour just a hint more of vodka in it every thirty minutes.
He agreed to go to prom not to behave.
Then he saw something he'd never ever thought he'd see. A woman, yes, a woman within a fifteen foot radius of him, it's hard to believe, but also, she was skirting along the wall like it was her only hope. He didn't know who that was, but he didn't talk to a lot of girls, this one was... Pretty.
Eddie thought he was having a heart attack, he'd never seen a girl and felt like that before. He spent the entire night just... Watching this girl curl into herself. She was kinda tall for a chick, but that definitely didn't bother him. Eddie didn't know what possessed him when the songs turned slow, but before any other asshole could, he marched right over to the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.
"Do you want to dance?" Eddie blurted, holding out his hand to her, praying that she didn't laugh in his face.
Steve- Stephanie on the other hand, was freaking terrified, because uh, obviously Munson knew. He totally knew right? He was going to hold this over him forever and he'll never be able to show his face in town again- He was about to say no and scurry away before he caught Tommy's eyes on the other side of the room. Fuck.
"Uh... Sure." Steve tried to make sure his voice was a little softer and higher, it killed his throat but it was part of the rules. He took Munson's hand, and... suddenly they were locked in a soft, nervous sway. They both kept stepping on each other's toes, Steve had never been on this side of a dance or worn heels, and Eddie had never danced before.
But somehow it was actually kind of nice? Steve had only ever talked to Munson to get Tommy drugs, but right now, he was all nervous and joking, murmuring pretty compliments under his breath. It made him laugh. Eddie was losing his mind because this girl, with the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, was laughing at his stupidity. He grinned, his cheeks flushing red.
The girl said her name was Stephanie, but before Eddie could really get to know her or anything the song was over, and she'd scampered away like a scared little bunny. He never saw her again, nor heard about her, he'd asked around, nobody knew her.
Until '86 when he's sitting with Steve in the hospital, Steve had fought to be put in the same room as him after they stitched him up. Eddie had just woken up from all the drugs they had him on, looks over at Steve, the guy who saved his damn life.
"How're you?" Eddie croaks, flashing a grin at the brunette. Steve scoffs slightly, "Somehow, still better than the time Tommy made me dress like a girl." He shrugged, letting it slip. He figured Munson had knew it was him back then anyway.
Eddie did not know.
He cocked a brow and shirked a chuckle, "What? When did he pull that shit?" Eddie questioned from his beside, looking at Steve with amusement. The thought was silly, Steve as a girl. Steve paused, and just blinked at Eddie, "Sophomore year at prom? We... Danced?" Steve furrowed his brows and Eddie sat there in silence for am moment.
"YOU WERE THE FIRST GIRL I EVER LIKED ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME-"
So is this Eddie figuring out that one of his very first crushes was actually secretly a boy... And maybe he is way less straight than he thought he was...
Or is this Eddie figuring out that he's Not bi, like he thought, or not Very Bi, since whenever he told himself he was completely gay he remembered meeting Stephanie and was like no I can't be completely gay because of Stephanie...
Lol thinking of him blurting some of that out and this being one of those "Steve only thinks he's straight cuz he doesn't know bi exists"
So when Eddie is like "back the fuck up, you as Stephanie was like the main reason I thought I was bisexual! Does this mean I'm not???" Steve is like. Out of RAM going. Wait. So he liked this boy who dressed up like a girl at prom and so he thought he was into boys but then he's actually straight because wait no that doesn't work... Wait if he thought I was a girl then and so then he thought he liked girls and the only reason he thought he liked girls was because he liked Stephanie then does this mean Munson actually likes guys? And thought what, that he liked both before that? Is that what bisexual is? Why has Robin never mentioned- Wait. Bisexual... WAIT
Lol them chatting about it after tensions come down and Steve admitting that Eddie was the or one of the first guys that he liked, too, and Eddie like "wait since when are YOU bi?" And Steve is like "if I correctly understand that that means liking more than just one kind, then since 10 minutes ago or since sophomore year, depending on how you count".
Famous!Eddie, maybe a rockstar, maybe an actual-play ttrpg GM, who cares, Just telling anyone who will listen in interviews etc the mostly actual truth about how he and Steve met when the earth tore open and hell crossed over and how he died and was reborn in Steve's arms as he literally carried him out of the underworld...
And maybe no one believes him because his band writes wild fantastical stuff or maybe no one believes him because he's a fantasy author or maybe no one believes him because he is a great and highly imaginative DM, But just Eddie endlessly delighting in the fact that he can absolutely 100% tell the truth about the wild freaky beginnings of their relationship, and everyone's going to assume it was like a metaphor for being gay and stuff in a small conservative town in the 80s.
Can't decide if it's better if Steve just sits there going. Yep. It's true. Bit dramatic, but true. And everyone is very thrown off by the deadpan...
Or if it's better if Steve is like trying to ratchet it back a little bit and use the cover story "it was an earthquake" "feral dogs" "serial killer broke out of the hospital" And that somehow sounds even less plausible than whatever the fuck romantic shit Eddie is saying.
Masterpost for my part in the Lake Kane 'verse, which I co-created with @omg-elledubs-things and @ramblingcompany
Androgynous - 1.5k - a prequel ficlet, podfic included, about Robin in a music store, and queer stuff.
Lake Kane - 25k - Now complete at 3 hours, the originally planned story about Steve, Eddie, And Robin getting jobs as firewatches over the summer Starcourt Should have opened. Structured mostly as ambient sound and conversations over radios (and flirting by way of cassettes).
Your Demons Let You Go - 1.5k- no podfic, just plain narrative ficlet coda to Lake Kane.
Season 5, and something has been leaving... Bits for Steve. A demobat wing, pieces of demodogs and actual wildlife, several demogorgon mouth-pegals one time.
At first Steve thought it was some kind of threat, but he's sort of come around to the idea it might be... They might be, like, Presents, like cats do.
And then Eddie turns up, ALIVE, apparently normal and fine except he's even weirder and twitchier than he was, but Steve (and the party ofc) are super glad to have him back.
He wants to hang with Steve, like, all the time, but he keeps running off partway through also, and Steve's not complaining cuz he was really starting to Like Eddie, felt like such shit when he "died" and there was nothing Steve could do, feels even guiltier now Eddie is back with a mildly suspicious (says Robin) story about just waking up over there, fine...
Pattern continues until Steve and Eddie are out patrolling and they run into some unfriendlies- Steve puts himself between the dogs and Eddie, swinging for all he's worth, not willing to fail Eddie a second time, but then there's a 'gorgon too, and Steve knows he's gonna go down, tells Eddie to run this time goddamnit-
And something- another demogorgon?- looms over Steve's shoulder, shoves him out of the way, and takes the head off the one in front of him.
Steve scrambles back, gets on his feet, can't see Eddie, grabs the bat, ready to fight this one too-
But a rough voice emerges-
STEVE. WAIT. IT'S US.
- and the face peels open like a demogorgon -
- and it's Eddie's face underneath.
.
Basically a Venom AU- where Venom is also an upside-down critter, but it didn't like Vecna and when it hitched a ride in Eddie's almost-coepse, it found something more compatible than anything else it had ever found, and it healed him and it fed on him, and after a great deal of bickering they came to an agreement that venom would stay hidden and then Eddie would go along with the Defecting from Vecna and joining the party plan- not willing to bring Venom back otherwise.
And then they found the other thing they agreed on- Steve Harrington and how much they want him to be theirs.
And yeah, those were gifts. From Venom. While Eddie was sleeping at first, or he'd have said it was disgusting and would drive Steve off (but ofc it didn't because Steve also is good at adopting strays)
.
Etc etc venom&Eddie get to bite Vecna's head off and present it to Steve as, like, a can-we-have-your-babies-or-give-you-ours gift.
One of my favorite things in Stranger Things fanfic has got to be when Steve's gotten more queer action than the rest of the group combined:
Robin is excitedly telling Eddie and Steve how she finally got her first kiss from a girl, prompting Eddie to complain about how he can never find anyone to hook up with or date in small town Hawkins Indiana.
Steve, in response, tells them that he (until then presumed straight) used to make out with his team mates in highschool (when they got drunk at away games) and hooked up with Tommy several times. And also his first kiss ever was Jonathan Byers.
One of my favorite things in Stranger Things fanfic has got to be when Steve's gotten more queer action than the rest of the group combined:
Robin is excitedly telling Eddie and Steve how she finally got her first kiss from a girl, prompting Eddie to complain about how he can never find anyone to hook up with or date in small town Hawkins Indiana.
Steve, in response, tells them that he (until then presumed straight) used to make out with his team mates in highschool (when they got drunk at away games) and hooked up with Tommy several times. And also his first kiss ever was Jonathan Byers.
Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Robin Buckley's Parents
Tags: Thanksgiving, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson
Summary:
Robin comes in with a flier and a plan.
The plan does NOT go accordingly, but Steve has a good time.
Petition to have more Steddie writers, have Eddie call Steve "leman."
It's literally the Medieval version of "sweetheart" and it's pronounced "lemon" so unless it's on paper, people will just think Eddie is calling Steve lemon. Eddie is a giant freaking nerd and would do something incredibly dorky like this.
sure steddie dating pre-season 4 is great and all, steve rushing to eddie to check up on him instead of eddie attack him in the werehouse is nice
BUT
steddie hooking up pre season 4, then sorta-almost-dating but they have a big falling out and they dont see eachother until the werehouse IS JUST SO JUICY
even better if they had the argument bcs steve wasnt telling eddie something to protect him from the upside down fuckery. and in the werehouse they lock eyes as eddie realizes what steve has been lying about, and steve (who just realized he was in love with eddie) realizes he failed and eddie is now in the middle of this crazy dangerous shit and he blames himself ofc
and give me robin who knew steve had someone, but he didnt tell her it was eddie. and she connects the dots and looks at steve and they have a little silent conversation bcs holy shit i knew u were a boy kisser but an eddie kisser?!?!
The angst potential with Ronance is so... like, they decide to risk giving it a chance bc Steve is encouraging it and thinks they'll be good together. And, for a while, they are! They're happy, dating, in love.
But Robin always wants to spend time with Steve. She wants to do everything with him. And it's not like she's oblivious, she'd make sure Nancy didn't want it to be a them two alone thing before inviting him.
Only, she would be asking to invite him to everything bc that's her boy right there. And Nancy, who's been avoiding close friendships since Barb, just... wouldn't get it.
She would try to, she would try so hard and for so long, but it just makes her see Steve as a threat to her relationship with Robin. And she wouldn't know how to explain that, so the bitterness only grows.
But, if there's one thing Robin cannot stand for, it's people being cruel to Steve. People talking badly about Steve. Anything that might upset Steve. She hates it so much and when Nancy finally explodes, vents out her frustration but words it so poorly? It all comes crashing down.
Steve eats, but only because Robin puts food in front of him. Only because she reminds him it's for the pup.
Like he needs reminding. Steve often rests his hand protectively over his rounded tummy. It's reflexive, to protect the only part of Eddie he has left. He feels like he hasn't slept in months, even though he knows he sleeps often, in broken bits and pieces.
He hasn't spoken for a long time, he knows that. Everyone watches him, and everyone used to tell him the same thing, 'they're just dreams Steve, Eddie is gone.'
Steve knows though, they aren't dreams. Eddie is alive, and he's trapped in the Upside Down because Steve didn't try hard enough, didn't push hard enough, didn't say the right things to get the others to believe him.
It upset Dustin the most at first, but Dustin has also been the most adamant because he saw Eddie die, can't even entertain the idea that Eddie might still be alive, because that means he left Eddie behind. That's a lot of guilt to ask a kid to carry.
Steve knows they're talking about him again, like them whispering in the kitchen makes it any better. Steve's starving himself. Steve isn't sleeping. Steve isn't showering. Steve's mate sick even if Eddie never mated him. It's the pup. It's the trauma. It's the nightmares.
They aren't nightmares though, not when Eddie holds him close, laid on a grassy meadow under a sunny blue sky.
El is here, kneeling in front of Steve, 'do you really think Eddie is alive?'
Steve clears his throats, feels full of cobwebs and sand, 'I know he is.'
Steve's said it a thousand different ways. A million. He's cried it and screamed it and shouted it and whispered it and said it as normal and level headed as he could make it sound, 'I am absolutely certain that Eddie is alive,' no one ever believes him.
She nods, 'we will check-'
'El.' It's Hopper, in the doorway, he said 'El' the same way he would say 'No'. 'We talked about this-'
'No, you talked about this. I am tired of this, for Steve, I will check. We will check, just this once.'
And Steve feels too broken to let himself hope, but he heaves himself up off the couch anyway.
El opened a gate in the pool. There's not been water in the pool for quite some time now, and it just seemed apt. A place where there is already a weakness in the world. Perfect for El.
In the end, just to stop the fighting, everyone has gone back to the Upside Down.
Steve squints at the sunny blue sky, not at all surprised to see it. Everyone else is making suitably shocked noises. The grass is green, the trees lush. From the trees, a demodog watches them. It looks different, like it fits here, healthy and well fed now, it shakes and stretches and then lopes off further into the woods.
Everything is overgrown, like the Upside Down is reclaiming everything that One created here.
Nearby, laundry flaps on a washing line, metal band shirts and torn jeans, 'Eddie,' Steve breathes for the first time in over six months, and heads into the house.
There's a bowl of odd looking fruit on the kitchen counter. In the lounge, books. So many books, all stacked and arranged into strange little towers like they are giants in a city, and the books are skyscrapers.
Upstairs, Eddie has clearly nested in Steve's room; there are guitar bits and tools on the desk, two guitars in parts.
The bed is mounded with soft things, Steve scents a pillow, it smells like Eddie...and not.
'Where the fuck is he,' Hopper grumbles.
Steve wants to snap. Wants to scream at them all. They fucking believe him now don't they? They could have had Eddie home months ago if-
Dustin has books from the living room, in the front of each is stamped 'Hawkins Public Library'. So that's where they go.
Steve doesn't know what to do when he spots Eddie. He's crouched on a table, bare toes gripping the edge. He's pale, even more so than before, skin a pale enough alabaster that Steve can see the shadow of blue veins underneath. He's flipping through a book, back and forth, back and forth, before finally stopping and hopping down from the table, 'Eddie?'
Eddie doesn't answer, eyes trained on Steve. His hair has grown, even longer, thick dark curls that Steve wants to bury his hands in.
There's a ticking noise, a low, growling rumble as Eddie stalks closer. Things happen very very quickly, Hopper raises his shotgun, El screams 'no,' Eddie's face peels apart like the petals of a flower filled with teeth as he roars and charges at them.
Hoppers gun is jerked up by an unseen hand, his shot causing plaster to rain down from the ceiling, and then Eddie is floating in the air, roaring as his face blends back to normal and then peels apart again, furious.
El's nose is bleeding, she wipes it away.
Steve moves closer. Eddie looks strange; taller. Leaner. Just, more, somehow.
Steve reaches for him, and Eddie desperately tries to get to him in return, clawing at the air, 'put him down, El.'
'Do not do that-' Hopper starts, but doesn't finish, because Eddie lands neatly on his feet, catlike in his grace, where El drops him.
He lunges for Steve, and Steve let's himself be pulled close and gathered up, Eddie clicking and chittering quietly in Steve's ear, scenting his neck, a strange sucking sensation on his skin as Eddie's face peels apart into one big mouth.
Steve actually has all the stuff ready. It’s right there, but he needs a moment to gather himself, so he uses the excuse of retrieving the tube of antibacterial cream, the water, the snack bar. Because what the fuck. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy that quite that much.
Steve has to adjust himself a little in his pants, and he’s got no explanation for that, either.
Eddie is dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when Steve gets back; posture a story of defeat.
Steve doesn’t want to compare what just happened to him, like, breaking in a horse, or something. But that is kind of how it feels. And it wasn’t even that hard.
Steve sits next to him, giving him the water and then, and he doesn’t know why he does this, opens the snack bar before he hands it to Eddie. Obviously Eddie can do that himself, but it was a reflex that had happened before Steve could stop it.
Eddie eats the bar and drinks half the water, and then he lets Steve dab a little cream on his lip; it’s probably not helping, it’s already well scabbed over, but Steve still feels the need to do it. Eddie won’t look at him though, tilts his head back with his eyes closed, twitching as Steve applies the cream carefully with the tip of his pinky finger.
Which is fine, Steve figures they’ve both had enough tonight.
“Okay, time for bed.”
Eddie doesn’t even say anything, no complaints, nothing, just does as he’s told and crawling into bed next to Steve. Steve waits, listening until Eddie’s breathing evens out, which actually happens really, really fast.
Eddie lying there trying to hide the fact that he’s awake and in pain, or Eddie waking up with nightmares and trying to cover it up was a regular enough occurrence that Steve can tell pretty accurately now if Eddie really is asleep or not.
Steve’s pretty sure he’s asleep.
Steve sleeps, too.
Steve finds himself in the city. He doesn’t really go into the city much, and never alone; it’s usually with Rob. Occasionally a couple of the kids. Rob likes to riffle through the thrift shops for clothes. The kids like to go look at Dorks and Dickheads and nerd shit, and then after hours of that torture, demand Steve buys them ice cream.
So.
He’s never usually here alone. And he’s doing something else he never thought he’d do; he’s trawling book shops.
He’s wearing shades inside, like that’ll stop people from seeing him in the adult sections. One thing he’s learned from Dustin Henderson over the years; if you need to know about something, there will be a book about it.
And it turns out, there is. One of them, as far as Steve can tell, is just a dirty novel, so he’s not sure how much use that will be. He picks up something by someone called Marquis de Sade, reads the back, and puts it down again. Definitely not.
He leaves with four books that he has wildly varying degrees of confidence in.
There’s an adult shop in the city; it’s got blacked out windows and everyone knows exactly what it is. Steve’s not expecting a bell to tinkle happily over the door when he walks in, and that’s almost startling enough for him to walk back out again.
He doesn’t though. He sticks it out. He needs to show Eddie he’s serious.
He needs to take care of Eddie. He needs to keep Eddie safe.
Also, he kind of needs to win.
He also needs to figure out how to fuck Eddie without having sex with him, since Eddie has made it pretty clear this is a sex thing. Not just a sex thing, the whole thing is pretty integral to Eddie getting laid, so. He’s going to have to do something. But that’s later Steve’s problem.
He walks past a very impressive collection of dildos and buttplugs and...very, very briefly considers the possibility. His brain stalls out a little bit, decides that this is...too much for right now, and keeps walking.
Steve’s not going to lie to himself. Out loud, yes, he lies all the time, but not in the privacy of his own head. And in the privacy of his own head...he was expecting handcuffs. Maybe like...fluffy pink ones.
He wasn’t expecting quite so much...leather. He sees a harness type contraption that he knows instantly Eddie would like. For the aesthetic, obviously. It’s just that it’s black leather with metal fixings and looks like it would form an ‘x’ over Eddie’s chest. That’s just, Eddie’s style. Or something.
“For yourself-”
Steve nearly screams. He swears his feet actually leave the ground. He thinks he maybe pee’d a little bit. He’s actually clutching at his chest, at the material of his shirt, like some scandalized middle aged woman clutching desperately at her pearls.
He takes a second to breathe through it, and to remind himself that he has been tortured by Russians and has beaten monsters from another dimension to death with a baseball bat and he is better than this, godamit.
It’s a diminutive woman that's speaking to him. She’s made a good six inches taller by the luminous green mohawk she’s sporting though, “sorry, you startled me.”
“I can see that, hon,” she pops her gum, “you’re like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. First time, huh?”
There’s no point in denying it, “yeah. Yeah, first time.”
“Right, so, shopping for yourself, or someone else? You need any help?”
She’s so without judgement, so open about the fact that they’re squeezed into an aisle of the store with leather wear hanging on one side, and gags and…muzzles hanging directly in Steve’s eye line.
“Someone else and...yeah, I think I do. Kind of...new, to all this.”
“Uh hu, so what are you looking for?”
“Well, he wants to be tied up,” Steve blurts before his brain to mouth filter can intervene, “I’m not gay,” he tacks on, panicking.
Both of her eyebrows raise a little, and Steve can tell that she is absolutely fighting not to smile at him, “uh hu. Right. So you want some restraints for...platonically tying up your...friend?”
“Yes,” Steve nods like his head is on a loose spring, “yes, exactly that, yes.”
“Hon, either you are outright lying to me, or there is a story here I absolutely want to hear.”
Steve almost...he feels like he collapses in on himself. He bluffed his way through the last encounter with Eddie...and he fucking loved it, he did. But now he’s got nowhere to go, because this is a sex thing, isn't it? So what the fuck is he supposed to do?
Steve doesn’t know what his face is doing, but he guesses it must be bad when she tuts sympathetically and says, “oh. Oh wow, hon, come on, I’ll make you a coffee, yeah?”
“I bought some books about it,” Steve offers weakly as he trails after her through the store, and she laughs right the way through making them both a coffee. There’s nothing mean about her laughter though, and by the time Steve has a mug in his hand, he’s laughing along with her.
When Steve tells Maria that his name is Steve, she gives him this look, but doesn’t say anything. She thinks he’s lying about his name, he realizes. Apparently ‘Steve’ sounds like a fake name you give when you’re panicking.
Steve guesses she’s not wrong.
“Okay, come on then. Spill. Trust me, nothing you tell me will shock me.”
“But it might make you laugh.”
“Well...yeah,” she grins at him, and something about her kind of reminds him of Nancy, a no nonsense honesty about her.
Steve figures he has nothing to loose, it’s not like she knows who either of them are.
“So...my friend, he’s a...submissive?”
“You sound so sure hon,” but she’s laughing in that kind way again. Steve doesn’t feel like he’s being laughed at, he feels like they’re seeing the funny side together. It helps that this lady is probably old enough to be his Mom.
“Right, well, he is. And he’s...he’s a good friend. We’ve been through a bit together and we’re kind of close. And he’s been showing up with like, bruises, split lip and...dropping. He explained to me what that was,” she nods, “and I just...I can’t let him keep going through that. I’m not going to let people keep treating him like that if...if I can do it, for him. If I can look after him.”
Maria makes a face like that is the sweetest thing she’s ever heard, and she’s looking at Steve like he’s a basket of puppies. Which is weird, because if Steve were to lean too far to the left, he’d knock over a towering display of different flavors of lube and glow in the dark condoms.
Steve lays his purchases out on the bed. He’s just spent way more money than he initially intended, but he figured if he’s doing this he might as well do it right. Maria was a font of information.
First and foremost, this is not, necessarily, a sex thing. It’s a trust thing. And when Steve had really thought about Eddie’s brain going quiet when he’s restrained...yeah, he kind of gets it? He thinks?
He knows shit all about how to safely tie someone up with rope, so he bought handcuffs instead. Velcro ones. They’re soft inside and might not be what Eddie’s used to, but if they’re going to do this, then some things are going to be none negotiable. If Eddie wants out of the restraints, Steve is going to make sure he can do that on his own.
It just makes Steve feel better about the whole thing, knowing that Eddie could take his control back at any moment if he really wanted to.
And he’s got a plan. Sort of. To start small. Might be pretty tame by Eddie’s standards, but Steve’s happy to admit that he’s totally new to this, so that is where they’re going to start.
Maria was very opinionated on the importance of enforcing your own boundaries in a healthy relationship, and Steve soaked up everything she said.
If Steve does something he doesn’t want to, simply because he thinks it’s what Eddie wants...Steve won’t enjoy himself. Steve won’t like it. And if Steve grows to really not like it...then this will fall apart really fast and any stability he managed to create with Eddie will disappear.
Probably to Eddie’s detriment. Probably having some negative fall out.
Which, all of that, is hugely logical, but it wasn’t until Maria very plainly pointed it out that Steve saw it that way. But now that she has, Steve’s really thought about it. He feels like he gets it now, at least, in principle. So for Steve’s comfort, as much as Eddies, they’re starting really, really small. Super safe.
When Maria had said they have to build trust, Steve had scoffed and Maria had raised an eyebrow. He didn’t mean to make that noise...it’s just, they’ve saved the world together. Literally relied on each other when their lives were on the line. Steve can’t imagine building any more trust with Eddie, they’re already at maximum trust.
He doesn’t know how to explain that considering he can’t tell anyone about the alternate dimension full of monsters, or the kids with magic powers. So.
But he didn’t come to Steve with his split lip, did he? The thought makes Steve frown, a niggle of doubt. Maybe he was just embarrassed? Probably that. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Steve with this, necessarily, it’s just he didn’t want to deal with Steve freaking out at him again.
Sure. Probably that.
Regardless, Steve has an idea of something he wants to try, and he feels better equipped to do that with Advice from Maria.
And if he did get half way to reading one of those dirty novels, no one needs to know.
Eddie eyes the cushion warily, “that’s it? You just want me to sit on the floor.”
Steve crosses his arms, “that is what I’ve asked you to do, yes.”
Eddie hesitates long enough that Steve wonders if he’s going to do it or not, but eventually Eddie does. He’s moving gingerly, like he thinks the cushions going to bite him. He sits just as Steve asked him to, back to the couch, facing the TV. Steve puts on ‘Born Free’ and absolutely does not react when Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. Steve settles himself behind Eddie. Not shying away from pinning Eddie’s shoulders between his thighs, encouraging Eddie to settle back even further. He does, but he's sitting stiffly, and Steve can basically feel the tension radiating off of Eddie.
But this is step one. To get over this.
They might be incredibly familiar with each other at this point, and may have already built up a mutual trust...but this. This is something new they’re going to have to sort through and get used to if they want to make it work. And Steve does want to make it work. He can’t let Eddie put himself in one of those situations again if he can help it.
also on ao3
cw: child neglect; mentions of underage drinking; brief weed presence; mentions of bullying
He doesn’t know what he was expecting.
He should have anticipated this, really. The slow drag. The tie knotted around his neck too tightly. The clatter of dishes and ruckus of pretentious, pompous laughter that makes him want to shove his fork through his eye.
He really doesn’t know what he was expecting.
A gift maybe. A birthday cake. Maybe with frosting and sprinkles. Candles. A wish. A clap on the back and an approving statement about his manhood from his father. Childhood dreams, in hindsight. Silly. Immature.
But he still longs for it all. To feel the rip of wrapping paper under his fingertips. To feel the warmth of lit candles on his face as he leans close to them. To blow them out with a silly wish and watch the smoke curl toward the ceiling before it fades. To hear his mother’s voice sing to him.
Something like in the movies. Something he’s never gotten before. Something he’s always wanted.
He’s eighteen today. He should be celebrating somehow. Getting drunk with Tommy H and the other guys. Laughing as they all slap his back and tell him he’s a man. Flirting with some girl by the punchbowl. Humbly accepting her happy birthday.
But he’s sitting next to his father at the head of their dining table, fingers drumming the dark wood as he stares down at the uneaten food on his plate. Steak and potatoes. An undrunk glass of wine. He’s listening to his father’s coworkers laugh about something, but he doesn’t know what exactly it is that’s so funny. Their voices don’t really make sense to him today. Usually he can talk with them just fine, ask about work and business deals and future plans and everything that they seem to care about. But today they sound almost discordant, like they’re all out of tune, a melody that he doesn’t recognize. He can’t follow along as they all talk, their voices blending and bleeding together, mixing with the sound of their forks and knives scraping the porcelain plates they’re using, the sound of their cups hitting the table harder than they should, the sound of their chairs scraping back over the floor.
Steve stares at his plate. Counts the pieces of potato. Six. Counts the prongs of his fork. Five. Counts the flowers on the edge of his plate. Seventeen. He drums his fingers on the table, taps his feet on the floor, takes measured breaths. Waiting until he can be dismissed, until he can leave. He doesn’t know where he wants to go, really. He thinks he’d like to go to bed, but the idea of sitting in silence after all this seems suffocating. Maybe he’ll go for a drive. He’ll have to insist to his father that he’s eighteen now, that he should be allowed to go for a drive if he wants to. It probably won’t work. But by the end of dinner, his father will probably be so drunk Steve will be able to leave without him knowing. He probably won’t remember it in the morning.
And even if he gets in trouble, Steve thinks, it’ll be worth it. To drive in the night with the windows down, the wind in his hair. A CD in, playing on the highest volume possible as he leaves town, even if just for an hour. He’ll take his tie off. Want to toss it out the window and then leave it behind along with Hawkins and this house, but he’ll just put it in the backseat and forget it there for a while.
He’s distracted from the daydream when his father claps him on the back roughly, startling as he jolts forward with the force of it. He’s always hit Steve too hard when he does this, fatherly slaps on the back when Steve’s done well in something he actually cares about. The most recent one was after a swimming competition; Steve hadn’t put his shirt on when he’d done it, and it stung like a bitch in a way that made Steve feel like a little boy again, but it was worth it.
“To Steve,” his father is saying, raising his fifth glass of wine to the ceiling, smiling. He has an eerie smile. Steve’s always thought so. His teeth are too white, too straight. Like he’s wearing a mask.
Steve smiles bashfully as a chorus of his name goes around the room, ducking his head and nodding when the men raise their glasses to him. A few of them wish him a happy birthday. One says something about him being a man. His father drains his wineglass, tilting his head back as his hand rests on the back of Steve’s neck, holding him too tightly, like he’s using him to hold his balance.
As far as birthday parties go, it was shitty.
Not that Steve would really have a good party to compare it to. All his birthday parties have been like this, ending with a bunch of wasted men in business suits crashing in his living room or recklessly driving home to their bored wives. Or, in recent years, ending very similarly but with teenage boys instead. Though Steve doesn’t allow them to drive home; usually a few stay in the guest room (often on the floor) or in his room for the night. He doesn’t sleep.
It’s dark in the living room as he steps around one of his father’s coworkers. It’s the one with the red tie that Steve had admired when he arrived. It’s looser now, draped over his neck as he lays on the floor. He’s snoring.
The floor creaks as Steve makes his way toward the door. His father is in bed already, probably passed out and reeking of wine. It’s a small comfort to know that Steve’s mom doesn’t have to deal with him tonight. She’s at a bachelorette party or something. She’s probably just as drunk as he husband.
Steve finds his car keys in the dark, and they jungle in his hand as he opens the door, but he doesn’t bother looking back to check if he’s awoken anyone; he doesn’t particularly care.
His vision is blurring before he’s even to his car, and before he can think anything else, he’s dragging the end of his key across the door of one of the cars he’s passing. He doesn’t look back, but as he gets into his own car, he realizes it was his father’s car. Maybe in the morning, he can convince him that one of his coworkers did it in a drunken stupor as a joke.
He rolls the windows down as he drives, blinking tears out of his eyes.
Eighteen was always supposed to be a big thing, wasn’t it? Adulthood. Manhood. He can vote now. Isn’t that a big deal?
All his friends couldn’t wait to turn eighteen. Steve isn’t the first of them to reach it, but he isn’t the youngest. The other day at school a few of them complained that they have to wait a few more months, and Tommy H joked about celebrating by going into Indy and hitting up a strip club.
They all laughed at that. And told Tommy it was a great idea, that Jared could drive them all. (He’d gotten his license before anyone else and it was decided that he would always be the designated driver.) They’d all wanted to do it, go out together, have a good time. Et cetera.
But looking at the sky, the wind drying the tears that are streaking down his cheeks, Steve’s never felt more alone. And he fucking hates wine, hates being drunk in general, but he would do anything for some weed right now. So he takes a left turn toward Forest Hills instead of toward the Leaving Hawkins sign.
Eddie knows he should have gone to bed hours ago. He doesn’t even know what time it is, but he’s so comfortable here, curled up on the sofa in his sweatpants, shirt off because it’s warm enough that he doesn’t need it. There’s a book in his lap, and his head rests on the back of the sofa as he reads it, thumbing over the page as he silently mouths the words to himself. The glow of the lamp behind him makes the pages gold.
He’s startled when there’s a knock on the door, and he looks up, wide-eyed. He’d vaguely heard a car pull in in front of the trailer, but he hadn’t paid it any attention, too engrossed in his book, which he sets aside after folding the corner of the page he’s on. It’s just a small fold, but he knows Wayne would smack him upside the head for it.
He stops short when he opens the door, eye to eye with the King.
It’s quiet as they stare at each other for a moment. Steve’s eyes wander down to the tattoos on Eddie’s chest, and Eddie is suddenly embarrassed that he’s shirtless and in sweatpants, especially when he realizes Steve is literally wearing a suit, a black tie tied around his neck. The only comfort is that his hair is a mess, which is oddly more satisfying than it should be.
“Hey,” Eddie says hesitantly. It’s odd that Steve is here. It’s not like Eddie’s never sold to him before, but he definitely isn’t a frequent customer. And it’s Sunday night. “What’s up?”
“I, uhm. Can I have some weed?”
Eddie realizes he’s holding his wallet in his hands, looking at Eddie like he’s pleading, and Eddie’s chest feels a little tight, like he’s looking at a dog abandoned on the side of the road.
“Yeah,” he says, swinging the door open wider and stepping aside. “‘Course.”
Steve steps in, ducking his head like he’s going to hit it on the doorframe, and Eddie shuts the door behind him, awkwardly glancing at him. He looks nice in the suit. Unfairly nice. Criminally nice. It should be illegal for him to be in public like this.
“What kinda party you headed to?” Eddie asks, going to the kitchen and grabbing the tin lunchbox from where he left it on the counter.
“Uh, I left one, actually,” Steve says, pushing a hand through his hair, and Jesus, that should be illegal too.
“What kinda party you ditch?” Eddie fixes, going to sit on the sofa and opening the lunch box, half-smiling when he sees Steve’s expression lighten.
“A shitty one.”
“How so?”
Steve sighs, looking around the room.
“Just… A bunch of my dad’s coworkers came over for dinner. They got wasted. I don’t know. It sucks.”
Eddie glances up at him, pulling a baggie of weed out of the box and preparing to hold it out to him, but Steve hasn’t made a move to open his wallet, and his face is tight again as he looks at Wayne’s hats, like he’s thinking too hard.
“Tell me,” Eddie says, opening the baggie instead and instinctively lifting it to his nose to smell it.
“It’s…” Steve pauses, blinking and glancing at him. “It’s nothing, you don’t— You don’t wanna hear it.”
“Yes, I do,” Eddie says lightly, pulling the grinder out of the box. “Go ‘head,” he adds with a jerk of his chin. “You need to talk about it, I can tell. Tell me.”
Steve blinks at him and sighs again.
“I don’t know,” he says again, turning away to look around again. It’s like he’s fascinated by the living room, like the hats and mugs are from an art gallery or something. “I guess I thought maybe my dad might actually wanna do something nice for my birthday, like— like he might invite over my favorite aunt and her kids, and we’d have, like, a nice dinner. Even though her kids are only in, like, fifth grade, it— it could have been nice. But he just wanted to convince his coworker of something or whatever, so he bought a bunch of wine, and…”
He trails off, grimacing at the wall, and Eddie’s hands slow to a stop, looking up at him.
“And Mom went to some party,” Steve continues, his voice shaking for a moment. “Some bachelorette or something. Which, I mean… She couldn’t change the date on that, but it still, like, I don’t know. Kind of hurts that I haven’t seen her all day. But also, I mean, I’m kind of glad she wasn’t there with my dad’s coworkers, I mean they… They’re so gross. Especially when they drink.”
“It’s your birthday?” Eddie interrupts, and Steve blinks and looks at him. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes searching Eddie’s like he’s lost.
“...It’s my birthday,” he says, and it’s like he’s just realized it, like it’s just set in. Eddie’s chest hurts.
“Why… Why didn’t you throw yourself a party?” he asks after a moment, still holding the grinder even though he isn’t doing anything with it. Steve looks away, blinking his eyes hard, tossing a hand with a huff.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I think— I think maybe I just hoped they’d do something for me. Stupid fucking hope, though,” he scoffs. “Like they’d do shit for me after eighteen fuckin’ years.”
“Didn’t you do something last year?” Eddie asks, finally setting the grinder down.
“Yeah.”
He says it so softly. Like he’s remembering. Like he’s sad.
“Fucking sucked,” he says. “I’m so…”
He trails off, exhaling, but Eddie is curious.
“You’re so…”
Steve shrugs.
“I don’t know.” His voice shakes again, and he shrugs, blinking his eyes hard as he pinches his nose briefly. “Tired of it all.”
“What all?”
Eddie knows he’s pushing it. Steve is going to snap at him. Tell him he came for weed, not therapy. But Steve just exhales again.
“Everything,” he says. “I’m fucking sick of— of my dad and I'm sick of the house and I'm sick of Tommy fucking Hagan and Carol Perkins and I'm sick of parties and booze and those stupid fucking plastic cups—”
He cuts himself off, turning away, and Eddie blinks, furrowing his brows.
“...Steve?”
Steve turns a little bit, looking at him, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears, and he looks so small. Like a cornered rabbit. Scared.
“You can stay,” Eddie says quietly. “If you want to. As long as you need.”
Steve looks like he crumbles, face falling as he looks at the ground, and he sits heavily on the armchair next to the sofa. Eddie kind of (really) wants to reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t.
“I keyed my dad’s car,” Steve says after a moment. “When I left.”
“Bastard probably deserves it.”
Steve finally gives a soft laugh, half-smiling, and he nods.
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” he says. “Or that it was his car. I just… I was already doing it before I even noticed there was a car next to me, it…”
“I think that’s God making you do what’s meant to be.”
Steve scoffs.
“Doesn’t that interfere with free will?”
Eddie shrugs, grinning, leaning back on the sofa.
“He’s gonna be so pissed tomorrow,” Steve says, sighing heavily and leaning back in the armchair. His jacket falls open, and Eddie forces himself to look away. “I might convince him his friend did it while drunk, but…”
“Worst case scenario, you can just blame me,” Eddie says. Steve looks at him, blinking in confusion.
“Why would I do that?”
Eddie shrugs.
“Believable. I can say I was on a nice midnight walk and heard some rich fucks havin’ a grand ol’ time. Pissed me off. Keyed a car.”
Steve listens, looking at him in a way that Eddie can tell he isn’t going to take him up on his offer, but he looks amused, which is nice.
“Plus it would make more sense if it was me,” Eddie says lightly. “You know. The Freak keying a car compared to the King keying a car. Seems more my speed. Also with all the shit I get into, keying a car is barely a blip on my record,” he adds dismissively. Steve raises an eyebrow (hot), and scoffs.
“Yeah?”
“The law can’t touch me, baby,” Eddie jokes, and his chest lights up like the sun when Steve rolls his eyes and looks away, his cheeks flushing with color.
Of course he knows how pretty Steve is. And of course, because why the fuck wouldn’t he, he’s had a crush on him for years. It’s bullshit, in Eddie’s opinion. That Eddie, the Town Queer, falls for the fucking King, the epitome of the Straight Man, the Ladies’ Man. But he fell so easily. And it doesn’t help that Steve is hanging out in his living room, looking around, hair shining in the light of the lamp like it’s threaded with gold.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Steve asks softly.
“You’re not really that bad,” Eddie says lightly.
“...I’m an asshole.”
Eddie blinks at him, tilting his head.
“Steve,” he says firmly, prompting him to look up at him with those fucking sad puppy dog eyes again. “I told Tommy Hagan his money should pay for a better wardrobe and he called me a fag and told me to kill myself. I told you I could smell your hairspray across the cafeteria and you just laughed. I stand up on the tables and harass you guys in the hallways in you're the only one that doesn't try to shove me into a locker or call me a slur. You're not like them.”
Steve looks away. He looks sad.
“Why do you do it?” he asks after a moment, looking up at Eddie, and he’s changing the subject, deflecting. “Draw so much attention to yourself when everyone is so shitty to you?”
Eddie relaxes into the sofa again, sighing, pausing.
“I kind of… I don’t know. Try to keep the target on me. The kids that hang out with me already put a target on themselves by being near me, but they… I don’t know, they’re, like… Fragile, I guess. A lot of their families are shitty, and they’ve been dealing with bullies since they were little, so… I try to keep the assholes’ attention on me as much as I can.”
He pauses, looking up at Steve to find him looking back already, chin resting on his palm, elbow on the armrest. Eddie looks away again, shifting.
“That’s kinda why I answered the door so fast,” he says. “Sometimes it’s one of my little sheep. Sometimes they need, like… Ice and painkillers. Or a place to spend the night. Sometimes just… someone to listen to them. Or take their mind off something.” He looks back at him. “Imagine my surprise at finding the Hair at my front door.”
Steve doesn’t laugh, but he’s almost smiling still, eyes shining, lips curved just a little bit. And he’s quiet for a few moments before—
“I really like you, Eddie.”
Eddie blinks in surprise.
They haven’t even smoked anything. (Eddie was planning on just lighting a joint up without charging Steve. Because it’s his birthday. Duh.) But Steve fucking Harrington just told him he really likes him.
Eddie forces a light laugh.
“Careful who you say that around,” he says weakly. “People might get the wrong idea.”
Steve looks back at him.
“There’s no one else here,” he says quietly.
And then it’s quiet as they just look at each other, and Eddie really shouldn’t be reading into this. (Again: Steve Harrington. The King. Straight Man. Ladies’ Man.) But it’s hard not to in this silence, which Steve looking at him like that in the warm glow of the lamp.
“Do you wanna spend the night?” Eddie asks without thinking. “I… I have some, like, sweats you can borrow, and we have spare toothbrushes and everything.”
Steve finally looks away, toward the door, like he’s expecting someone to come in.
“I don’t know, it’s… I don’t wanna be a bother—”
“You’re not,” Eddie interrupts. Steve stares back at him again.
“We have school tomorrow.”
“Fuck school,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “...You deserve to rest.”
Steve is quiet again.
“...Okay.”
Eddie smiles and beckons with a tilt of his head.
“C’mon.”
Steve follows him to his room after he toes his shoes off and leaves them by the door, and his mismatched socks are oddly endearing. He pushes his hands into his pockets while Eddie gets some clothes from his closet (a pair of black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt that’s stained with bleach, reddish-orange spots near the hem and on one of the sleeves), and Eddie leaves the clothes on his bed before he leaves to the bathroom to find the extra toothbrush.
When he comes back, Steve has taken off his jacket. It’s resting on Eddie’s desk chair, almost blending into the mess, and Steve is struggling with the knot of his tie, brows furrowed with frustration, lips pursed in a pout, and Eddie wants to squeeze him. He steps forward and swats his hands out of the way, taking over gently. They’re close as Eddie works on the tie, hands shaking a little bit because Steve is right there, and also because Eddie still hasn’t put a shirt on. (He forgets he isn’t wearing one. Wayne scolds him often for it, but Eddie’s been like this since he was thirteen.)
He can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he undoes the tie, and when it finally comes loose, he carefully slides it out of Steve’s collar.
“There you go,” he says quietly, almost whispering, and Steve takes the tie from him, his throat bobbing as he swallows.
“Thanks.”
Eddie tries to clean up while Steve uses the bathroom to change and brush his teeth, and he tugs on a t-shirt as he does so, pushing his hair out of the way as he clears off his bed and shoves his laundry into his closet. It’s not as awkward as Eddie expected when Steve comes back into his room, his eyes glancing Eddie up and down like he’s analyzing his shirt before Eddie nods at the bed. It’s big enough that they’ll both have space without crowding each other, and a part of Eddie mourns not having a smaller bed.
Steve falls asleep quickly, facing Eddie, curled up into a little ball with his arms wrapped around one of Eddie’s pillows. His face is buried in it, his hair falling across his eyes, and Eddie holds back from pushing it out of the way. His shoulders rise and fall slowly, steadily, and the sound of his breathing almost lulls Eddie to sleep too, but he stays up with his book and the dim lamp until three.
He’s careful as he goes back to the living room, stepping over the floorboards he knows are creaky, shutting the door as quietly as he can so he doesn’t wake Steve. And he calls Wayne’s work. One of his coworkers picks up.
“Hey, it’s— it’s Eddie.”
“Oh, Eddie, hey, kid. How’ve ya been?”
“I’ve been good, I just, uh, I had to talk to Wayne, is he available?”
“Yeah, he just started his break. He’s eatin’ those damn boiled eggs. Wayne! ‘S your boy.”
It’s quiet for a moment before Wayne’s gruff voice speaks into the phone.
“Eds? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just… Okay, so—”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t— Excuse me. I didn’t do anything. I was wondering if you could do a favor for me.”
Wayne sighs heavily.
“What?”
“Okay, uhm. A friend of mine is over right now, and he… It’s his birthday, right? But his parents are dicks and his dad just had, like, a business meeting for his birthday dinner, and his mom is at some party or something for her friend, and my friend is kinda… I don’t know. It sucks. His friends suck.” He knows he’s speaking choppily, awkwardly, and that the word friend sounds foreign in his mouth, like it doesn’t really fit between his lips. And he knows Wayne is picking up on that too, and that Wayne definitely can already tell that Eddie has a crush, but Wayne, bless his heart, doesn’t say anything.
“So what’s this favor?”
“I don’t know, do you think… Do you think you can get, like, a cake or something on your way home? He’s spending the night.”
Wayne is quiet for another moment, and Eddie hears a clatter behind him, followed by some laughter.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says finally.
“Thanks, Wayne.”
“What’s his name?”
“Uh. Steve.”
“Steve,” Wayne repeats slowly. “Steve. Of the Harrington sort?”
“That’s the one.”
“I didn’t know you were friends.”
“Well. Our relationship is mostly professional—”
“Right,” Wayne says with a light laugh. “Go to bed, Eds. I’ll see you when I get home.”
“Thanks, old man. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The phone clicks when Eddie hangs it up, and he avoids the creaky floorboards again as he makes his way back to his room. Steve is still laying the same way, hugging Eddie’s pillow to himself, and he looks so…
Small.
Not at all like a king. He looks so young here, so little and helpless, and Eddie wants to wrap his arms around him and kiss his forehead. Which would definitely cross some lines.
He gets into bed slowly, lifting the blanket carefully so it doesn’t move where it’s draped over Steve’s body, and he clicks off the lamp.
It’s different in the complete darkness. It looks just like it does on any other night, dark and empty and easy for him to close his eyes and forget about the world, but he can hear Steve’s slow breaths. He can almost hear his fucking heartbeat.
At some point in the night, they move closer, and Eddie, half-asleep, blearily opens his eyes to try to find him in the dark. He can’t see anything, but he doesn’t need to when Steve shifts closer under the blanket. Eddie’s arm wraps around Steve’s waist, and Steve’s head finds its way to Eddie’s chest as he curls up into an even small bundle. The movement feels instinctive, his arm wrapping around him before he’s even fully realized how close they are, and as they settle against each other, Eddie wonders if that’s how it felt for Steve when he keyed his dad’s car. Natural. Right.
Wayne knows the Harringtons.
Richard was called Dick in high school, and Wayne always felt that the nickname was fitting. He was a rich, pompous asshole, who no doubt treats his son the same way he treated anyone he went to school with. He pulled girls’ hair and left ugly notes in their lockers and in their textbooks. He tripped younger kids in the hallways and smacked their notebooks out of their hands, and he and his friends would walk all over their worksheets and loose papers that fell across the hallway floor. He thought of himself as above everyone else, flaunted his big house and fat wallet, and Wayne always kind of hoped he would grow out of it, even when he went after Al relentlessly. It was like he had a personal vendetta against Al, and Wayne would be lying if he said he doesn’t think Richard Harrington is part of the reason Al is gone now.
And Wayne remembers Catherine. Future trophy wife, queen of Hawkins High, with her pretty brown curls that were always done up so perfectly Wayne sometimes wondered if she had a professional hair stylist. She was similar to Richard, maybe a little nicer. Though, maybe Wayne just thought she was nicer because she was so passive. Everyone knew she was the one that started most of the rumors about the other students. Cruel, cruel rumors.
They’re perfect for each other.
Wayne had heard when they had a child, but he never thought much of it. It seemed right to him. Richard and Catherine, with their bright smiles and pretty hair, with their big house and shiny wedding rings. Of course they’d have a son.
Wayne remembers seeing Catherine with Steve when he was a toddler. They were with one of Catherine’s friends, walking down the sidewalk in town, and Wayne saw them as they passed by the grocery store. Steve had been holding a bare dead dandelion, the seeds already blown off into the wind, but his tiny fist was clutching the stem like he was scared to lose it. Catherine hadn’t seemed to notice, too busy engrossed in the conversation she was having with her friend as Steve stumbled behind them, his legs too short to keep up properly.
He supposes it makes sense for Steve to buy from Eddie. The rich kids always do. Wayne remembers the local dealer when he was in high school. He was a dick, too.
But it doesn’t make sense for Steve to be spending the night at Eddie’s. Wayne doesn’t mind, of course. Anyone’s welcome at home. He’s come home from work countless times to find some kid passed out in Eddie’s bed or on the sofa (and once on the floor), and Eddie is always quick to explain. His dad was scaring him. He got jumped on his way home. She thought she was being followed. I’ll drive her home when she gets up. And Wayne, of course, always prepares an extra plate of breakfast before he crashes.
But Steve Harrington.
He can’t be treated well by Dick.
It’s all Wayne can think about as he leaves work, waves bye to his coworkers, drives into town. Everything is starting to open, and Wayne loves this part of the day. The sky is pale and bright, and the world is starting to wake up. Doors opening, sleepy eyes finding one another and greeting each other with waves and calls of “Morning!”
He’s the first customer of the day in the bakery that’s in town center. (He watched the owner flip the sign to open from his car.) He makes conversation politely as he looks around, ignoring the way the shop owner’s eyes linger on his oil-stained hands. And he points to one of the cakes in the display.
And he thinks some more about Steve on his way home. He hasn’t seen him in ages. He wonders if he would recognize him, if he resembles Catherine or Richard more.
The trailer is quiet when he comes inside, and he takes off his heavy boots before moving into the kitchen. There are a pair of nice shoes by the door, shiny and new-looking, and very clearly Steve’s. Wayne puts the cake on the counter before he goes to scrub his hands, and then he searches through the cabinets and drawers for candles. He finds a few, and they’re all uneven and different colors, but they’ll work. One is orange and striped, and Wayne knows it’s from Eddie’s thirteenth birthday.
He arranges them on the cake carefully, leaning down to make sure they’re straight, and he finds his cigarette lighter in his jacket pocket.
He makes coffee and waits at the table with a newspaper until he hears them wake up. They emerge from Eddie’s room sleepily, and Wayne sets aside the paper as he reaches for the lighter, suppressing a smile as he lights the candles carefully.
Steve is wearing Eddie’s clothes, and his hair is so messy he barely looks like a Harrington at all. But when Wayne looks at him, he can see his parents. Catherine’s eyes and nose. Richard’s mouth. Catherine’s hair. But then Steve freezes, eyes finding the cake as Wayne finishes with the candles, and they widen, shining as he stares at the flickering flames and white frosting and colorful sprinkles, and his parents are nowhere to be found.
The candles are mismatched. Orange and striped and blue and purple and green and white, short and used and loved. They’re all flickering with tiny flames that look warmer than Steve’s ever felt, and Steve just watches.
It’s a small cake. Round and white, dollops of swirly frosting decorating the top with rainbow sprinkles that are brighter than the wax of the candles, and it’s beautiful. Steve’s never had a birthday cake before. Not even at the bigger parties with his friends. They brought beer instead of cake.
But Eddie’s uncle is looking at Steve happily, eyes crinkling under his smile, and Steve thinks he’s beautiful too. His voice is gruff when it says, “Happy birthday,” and then Steve can’t see because his eyes are welling with tears and spilling over his cheeks before he can stop them or turn away to hide his face.
“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie says softly, and he pulls Steve into a hug. No one’s ever called Steve that. He thinks he likes it. Maybe he only likes it in Eddie’s voice.
Eddie’s hands are gentle as he runs them over Steve’s back and over the top of his head. They sway a little bit, and even though Steve is still crying he opens his eyes enough to see the cake over Eddie’s shoulder. The flames glow brighter with his tears in the way, blurred together with the frosting that looks like it’s glowing too in the morning light.
“You’re supposed to blow them out,” Eddie says softly when Steve’s crying slows, and Steve lets out a wet laugh, wiping his face with the end of his sleeve.
“C’mon now,” Eddie’s uncle says, nodding toward the cake. “You’re gonna let them get wax all over the frosting.”
“Sorry,” Steve chokes, moving closer to the cake and looking at it from above. The candles are arranged in an uneven circle, the flames flickering as his breath hits them, and he pauses.
He knows birthday wishes are silly and childish, but he really, really wishes every birthday would be like this.
He blows the candles out.
They sit at the table as Wayne gets a knife to cut the cake. Steve can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it, eyeing the frosting and sprinkles and candles like they’re something made of magic, and Eddie can’t seem to tear his eyes away from him.
He’s got this sort of absent smile on his face, and Eddie wants to reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t. He still has the light traces of tears on his cheeks, and his eyelashes are wet, and his eyes are glistening, and in the morning sunlight, he looks like a painting, like he’s too good to be true.
They’re all quiet as Wayne cuts the cake carefully, three little plates stacked next to the cardboard platter. Eddie looks at Steve again. He’s watching intently, unblinking.
Eddie nudges him under the table with his foot, and Steve’s eyes jump up to him, his expression softening. Eddie raises his eyebrows at him, nodding a little, asking, checking.
Steve blinks at him, his eyes flickering across Eddie’s face, and then he’s leaning over, moving closer, and he’s kissing him.
It’s a brief kiss. Soft and chaste and tentative, and accidental, instinctive, it seems based on how Steve’s eyes widen as he pulls away. His cheeks flush red, and his lips part, stammering silently.
“I—”
Eddie leans in and closes the distance between them, hands finding Steve’s face and holding it between them tenderly. Their eyes flutter shut, and Steve exhales, shoulders falling as he melts into the kiss, and Eddie feels like he might burst. They part slowly, and it takes a moment for Eddie to be able to open his eyes. When he does, he finds Steve gazing back at him, eyes wide and shining and almost fucking hopeful. Eddie’s thumbs brush over his cheeks softly, and his lips curve into a smile. Steve blinks, his eyelashes fluttering at Eddie like a butterfly, before he smiles back, tentative and shy.
“So I guess I should know your name.”
They both jump, having forgotten Wayne was there, but Wayne isn’t looking at them, smiling as he focuses on cutting and serving the cake. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him (he told him Steve’s name), and his hands fall from Steve’s face as Steve blushes again.
“I’m so sorry, I’m— I’m Steve.”
“Steve,” Wayne repeats, setting down the knife, looking up at him. Steve is still red.
“Uh, Harr—”
“I don’t need your last name,” Wayne says lightly, lifting a hand up, and Steve hesitantly reaches for it to shake. “Steve’s enough.”
They shake gently, and Steve is starting to smile again, like he knows Wayne is cool. The handshake lingers, and Wayne squeezes his hand a little.
“Happy birthday, Steve.”
“Thank you, sir,” Steve says softly when their hands fall, and the face Wayne makes at sir is enough to make him giggle.
They eat the cake. It’s sweet, and Eddie can’t help but wonder if Steve will taste sweet afterwards. He kicks at Steve’s shins under the table, and Steve glares at him, suppressing a smile, rolling his eyes as he sips the coffee that Wayne gave him when they started eating. He and Wayne chat about sports and work and school, and Eddie is content here with them.
Wayne pats both their backs when he finishes eating, ruffling Steve’s hair with another happy birthday wish before he goes to take a shower and go to bed, and Steve’s cheeks flush pink as he watches him go, glancing at Eddie.
“What?” Eddie asks lightly, licking his fork. Steve shrugs.
“He’s really nice.”
“I know,” Eddie says, glancing down the hall.
“What’s his name?”
“Wayne.”
“Wayne.” Steve repeats it like a prayer. “He’s nice.”
Eddie looks at him. He’s fidgeting with his fork, dragging it through the remaining frosting on his plate, and Eddie is about to say something before Steve speaks again.
“Sorry for kissing you in front of your uncle.”
Eddie snorts, and Steve looks up at him, eyes sparkling with amusement, suppressing a smile.
“I don’t mind,” Eddie says, flirting, leaning over the table. “Wouldn’t mind if you wanted to do it again.”
Steve’s eyes flick across his face, and Eddie realizes that’s how he was looking at him last night, glancing at his tattoos. Eddie’s smile grows.
“I’ve never kissed a boy before.”
“Third time for everything.”
Steve laughs softly, leaning closer, and their noses nudge together.
“You really don’t mind that it’s me?” he asks softly, whispering. Eddie blinks his eyes open, looking at him and tilting his head.
“Ain’t nothin’ to mind.”
“Really?” Steve breathes.
Eddie smiles fondly, lifting a hand and touching his face gently, running his thumb over his cheek lightly. And he kisses him as softly as humanly possible, so light he almost can’t feel it. Steve sighs, his hand reaching to find Eddie’s neck, and his fingers are warm on his skin, especially in the morning air. Eddie rests their foreheads together when they part, his eyes closed.
“Really.”
He opens his eyes to find Steve smiling brightly, eyes squeezed shut.
“Okay,” Steve breathes. Eddie kisses him lightly once more.
“Happy birthday, Stevie.”
“Thank you, Eddie.”
Steve pulls him into a hug, and then he kisses him again, and it tastes like birthday cake and fresh coffee and eighteen years’ worth of shitty birthdays turned upside down.
